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David Barr Jan 2014
I have discovered myself to be lost in shimmering puddles of an ancient dream where the recollections
of an acoustic guitar delve into the depths of an autumn sky.
They are unequivocally related to damp wellington boots, butterscotch and bacon.
At last, I have balanced upon the glorious edge of unfathomable childhood rituals where esoteric plantations are shrouded by a hedge of Britannic history.
So, as you seek to slide down the steep and icy pathway into the park, make sure that you return by 9 o’clock in the evening because the black nun wanders around those ghostly woodlands where religious buildings remain to be sunk into historical graves.
Kush Sep 2016
I see a sheet of moonlight shine on the drops of water
It looks as if streams of longs diamonds are piercing me

The entire sky resembles my skin
Everything feels familiarly cold
Plants wither and animals flee with every step taken

I lost my true love long ago

Unabashedly innocent, she bore the same scars as I
Unequivocally forgiving, she took my dark origins in stride

For her existence, I would battle both the blessed and the ******
For her soul, I would fight until my last breath
and then eternity afterwards

Devotion has no jurisdiction
Having scoured the heavens,
my search takes me to the pit

I dip my toe into the abyss as it shifts
Hell drags me into the fray
Her sweet eyes on my mind,
I dive into the fiery bays
Mariam Shittu Aug 2017
It was a love
That was magical
It went beyond fantasies
And lustful desires

It was a love
That was unexplainable
It went beyond feeling
And unselfishly giving

It was a love
That wasn’t ordinary
It went beyond hurting
And unequivocally abasing

It was a love
That caused pain and despair
It went beyond heartbreak
And too many tears

It was a love
That was unfathomable
It went beyond distrust
And continuous berating

It was a love
That was controlling
It went beyond danger
And persistent fear

It was a love
That was depressing
It went beyond being unpredictable
And considering surrender

It wasn’t love
It was hostility
It went beyond everything
And led to death

Mariam Shittu
xo
Love is kind and gentle. Love is safe.
nivek May 2020
restriction can be a taste of freedom
once experienced never forgot
a place of plenty, overflowing
where the thirst to get and spend
is unequivocally quashed.
noura Apr 2021
3/4
You must have known.
That day I held your hand and you held my gaze
And the air was thick with smoke and unspoken words and tiresome clichés.
Your eyes crinkled softly like they always do.
Always, always in the pretentious books I would pour over for hours as I try to envision myself right there,
Comforting myself with the idea that someone, one day, will dance with me to the sound of nothing but two hearts beating in unison.
There is something desperately intimate about oxygenation.
Always in these silly, profound books, they describe their darling’s eyes with every hue known to man.
Deep, aquamarine, sparkling crystal orbs that you would be so happy to drown in.
Entrancing and stormy forests.
Pools of warm honey with gold flecks in them, sweet as dandelion wine.

I will not condescend to compare your eyes to saccharine.
Or bodies of water, for that matter, or trees.
I will not waste time equalizing them to shades of the rainbow.
What are eyes, really,
Other than a means to see?
All that is beautiful and all that is clean.
I hold my own eyes in higher esteem than yours, dear,
Because they allow me to revel in the way yours light up when you smile.
How the skin underneath creases and wrinkles in all the most endearing ways
Like the infinite pages of a book in some foreign language
That only I can understand.
The ability to do so is a prerogative of the infatuated.

I wonder if you’ll let me read this book more often now that we’re here, two forgotten souls grinning stupidly at each other in the dark.
You must have known, then, that I would spend every day of the rest of my life reading this book if you only allowed me to do so.
Embedded in my mind was the way the corners of your mouth shot up towards the heavens.
I did not have to trace it to know that it was there.
You must have known.
There was not a crumb of my being you did not hold in the callused palm of your hand.
All of the streetlights were doused by the blanket of the night and it was truly not a movie-worthy moment because there were no stars and the moon was out of sight and there were stray cats padding around in the neglected garbage dumpster and I could not even remember why we were laughing so hard and I loved you.
Unequivocally.
Taken aback , by the beauty of a' holler' in Quicksand one morning , songbirds echoing across the valley.. Traversed cool waters of the North Fork Kentucky River , window shopped on the streets of Jackson ..Wondering what it would be like to witness such beautiful scenery , day after day , vistas that most certainly play upon a mans mindset , unparalleled views , chatty blue collar shopkeepers and farmers , she's unequivocally fodder for endless stories and legends ..Foggy , gray , early mornings turn into daytime masterpieces , Xanadu for artist , poet and musician ! At dusk as the air begins to cool , smoke permeates from farmhouse and hamlet , aroma of firewood trapped in the valley as the whippoorwill sings her evening lullaby ...Kentucky is at rest tonight ......
Copyright October 2 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Jacey Nov 2014
When will we learn that no always and unequivocally means no?
When will we learn that he or she or them or it were never asking for it?
When will we learn that we don't get to decide what others feel?
When will we learn that our experience is not all experience?
When will we learn that hate only begets hate?
When will we learn that violence is never the solution?
When will we learn to open our ears and hear?
When will we learn to accept people as individuals and not preconceived ideas?
When will we learn that love is what this world needs?
When will we learn to stop being so complacent?
When will we learn to make our own decisions?
When will we learn to speak our minds in wisdom, to bring peace?
When will we learn that we are not all knowing?
When will we learn,
What will it take for us to learn,
That we have so much left to learn?
Jordan Frances Nov 2014
Red stop light blends into grey clouds
Looking around, faces blend one into the next
Just as their stories do.
While individual
Here,
We are all the same.
Stuck in traffic.

I have broken something some would call
Sacred
It feels as though I am moving
But like quicksand holds my feet in place
Where are you, my love?
Are you that far away?
Breathing becomes intentional
And suddenly, I am stopped.
Stuck in traffic.

The quicksand I mentioned earlier
It's beautiful, yet horrifying
I can suddenly think about all my mistakes
But I am too entrapped to fix them.
The golden ocean surrounds my body
Tugging me down, letting me watch
As my fate is reduced to an idea.
Once again, forever
Stuck in traffic.

I believe that I can save myself,
Maybe, just maybe
If I get down far enough
Crawl out on my knees
I'll be ****** and scathed
But I truly think I can succeed, right?
Not a chance.
I already am well aware
That I am eternally and unequivocally
Stuck in traffic.

More things flash before my eyes.
Do I look okay?
Am I the fat girl that was staring in the mirror
Tearing apart her appearance
Just fifteen minutes earlier?
Now, none of that seems to matter
As I am dealing with the extreme effects of being
Stuck in traffic.

Now,
Do I really exist?
Is my being a fact or opinion?
Suddenly I feel
As though I am not here at all.
If no one sees me
Am I invisible?
My thoughts, spinning the wheels
Have caught up with my body and are
Stuck in traffic.

Speaking of broken bodies
Seven years old was the most dreadful.
Full of shame from the way he touched me
He led me to believe I could trust him
But that trust was not mine to harbor.
Funny how when you're about to die
These memories implant themselves in your brain
Things you think about while
Stuck in traffic.

It's a miracle I am even thinking at all.
Considering in these dire situations
My mind tends to slip
And I stumble and fall with it.
Shards of glass hit my face
But I am the one who crashed and burned.
At least I am no longer
Stuck in traffic.
Mikaila Nov 2015
Sometimes I love you so much I can't breathe.
You're always there now, on the edges of my mind.
You're like a light that falls on every thought I ever have-
You don't ever obscure anything, you just make it all clearer,
Brighter,
Better.
When I feel sad, the thought of you flits across my mind like sunlight on the water
And I feel warmer.
When I am about to fall asleep your fingers drum my heartbeat
And I am at peace.
And I,
Lying in your arms
Skin to skin
Soul to soul
Lying in silence for the first time in five years
My demons not just silent but shrinking,
I can't help it-
I know I could spend my life like this.
I know I could be content to come home to you,
Not even that,
Not just,
But for you to be
What home means.
In those dangerous, quiet hours of the morning
When your breath tickling my neck makes my heart ache with joy that you ever took a breath
And the smell of your hair lulls me into dreams of your smile
I dream in waking as well;
I admit to myself
Just how serious I am when I murmur that I love you
Just how deeply I've fallen already.
In those moments
I know that you are already
Home to me
And I can brush the thought aside when I am too scared to let it live but
The proof is in the way I ache to leave you when the morning comes.
I hurt inside when we kiss goodbye at your door,
You bleary eyed and wrapped in a blanket,
Me being tugged away by a world I am increasingly, blatantly
Uninterested in
If you aren't there to light it up.
My life nags at me like a whiny child
And I push its greedy fingers away.
What is life when there is love?
What is the work you do to pay your bills when there is the work you can do to feed your soul?
There are wounds healing in me that I didn't know I had,
Wounds that protest feebly when I turn away for the stairs.
What is a house I grew up in
When all it holds for me are memories of so many nights
Wishing for what I feel when I'm with you?
And yet I know we are young and afraid,
Caught in the tide of this enormous world
But the strength with which I feel that we can conquer it is staggering
If we can only reach one another, tethered by the wishes we've never dared to speak before,
Holding on with fingers that have slipped away from too many perfect days
And hearts that have bled for too many lonely nights
If we can only remember the breathless shock, that sudden certainty that the eyes we gaze into could be our port in every storm, our deepest comfort and our own sweet joy reflected,
If we can only decide
Unequivocally
That the chance to be happy like that is worth the risk of losing it
We will not lose,
We will not fail.
The light in our eyes that burns for each other cannot go out
If every time we close them we reach for it.
I can't know anything, can't be sure I really have seen the future that I dearly wish for
But I can promise that every star I see
Every night
Everywhere on earth
Will bear your name to me like a wish, like a prayer.
I can say with certainty that its lilting melody will escape my lips unbidden
Every time I round a corner and see something that reminds me of you
And leave a smile there.
I can swear to you with every piece of me that you
Are in my skin
That once I've said the words "I love you",
They can never be undone.
What I'm saying is that if someday you choose to fade away
If even in our passion and sweetness and devotion
Life sweeps us out of each other's arms for a time
I will love you until the day I die.
I looked at you the other night and knew it suddenly
The way I always know.
I knew that if I live to be 100, I will forget my own name but remember your face,
And it made me so wrenchingly happy
And so gently sad, somehow.
Because I can't know.
I can't know if I will always be worth the risk,
If all of our efforts will pay off.
A hundred thousand things could change us and our world...
But I do know
Me.
I know me and I know that the biggest, most permanent gesture of love I can give you
Is to let every second I spend with you change me like it does
To let every touch you give me leave fingerprints
Mould me into something new and better.
I will open my doors to you
Every one
I will let you run your fingers along the dusty, light starved parts of me
I will lead you through the rooms of my heart I've kept locked away
A shrine to brokenness
And I will see you throw the curtains open and let the sunlight make them glow anew.
And that way whether your stay be forever
Or tragically brief
Everyone who ever meets me
Everyone who loves me or my art
Everyone who passes me on the street and thinks my smile is lovely
Will meet you
Will admire you
Will
Love
You
As well.
That is my gift to you
The best and most complete I have to give.
Casey Dandy Aug 2017
I had a week of bliss, surrounded by love and friendship;
Diversity in color, sexuality, and creed.  
The 'oh-my-God-I'm-gonna-die' turbulence on the flight home,
[Which the pilot coyly called "rough air"],
Was nothing compared to the avalanche of awful I hit after exiting the ramp.
Slammed into the tarmac, engulfed in hate.
My eyes wide open to the bigotry and sin.
[I say sin, not because I believe in it, but because they do.]
Here are my eyes, slammed wide open,
Reading article after article on Charlottesville.
Begging, waiting, for the President to make a stand,
To give us some hope,
To unequivocally denounce white supremacy,
To show some compassion,
To say Heather Heyer's name,
To demonstrate to the world what human decency is.
...I keep waiting.

This was not about partisan politics.
This was not about 'right' or 'left'--
This is about right and wrong.

This is not about partisan politics.
Hate transcends politics.
This was not a chance to pander to or pacify voters.
This was a grim opportunity to be truly presidential in a time of great need.

A person should never experience such radical hatred
for being born the way they were born--
Exactly the way your God made them.

Freedom of speech and expression was not created for the benefit of Neo-****'s.
It was created to liberate Americans, not oppress them.
You cannot [ab]use it as a shield to mask your abhorrent agenda.
You cannot randomly yell “FIRE!” in a crowded theater that is not, in fact, on fire;
Nor can you create a fire on a stick then run through a crowd, spouting off your beliefs.

Here are my eyes, slammed wide open
And all I wanted to do was to shut them,
To go back to my bubble of bliss.
But I cannot.
We cannot.
That is exactly what gives hate and ignorance the permission to spread like wildfire.
The lovers need to keep loving.
We need to keep speaking out against violence for violence's sake;
Against oppression of an entire race, simply because of melanin;
Against discrimination of the "different";
Against the ideal of "the perfect race";
Against the idle tolerance of these obscene, disgusting ‘ideals’.
We need to keep speaking out against "taking back our country"--
We are living on stolen soil.
We are all visitors here.

Where did your ancestors come from, sir, wielding the fiery torch?
This land is not yours.
It is not mine.
It is ours--
All of ours, together.
My history teacher had a poster in the classroom that read "We learn about history so we do not repeat it".... Yet here we are again.

A reflection on the violence in Charlottesville, VA
Felix Universe Dec 2014
The twisting and turning, grumbling, churning, elation, desperation and more.
Reflexive minds compacting semiotics until an inevitable meaninglessness rears up in smugness.

"There is Nothing here.

Nothing for you

Nothing Of you.

Nothing."


The mind begins again, fumbling, stumbling, eureka-ing, ambling, grasping and more.
Reflexive minds compacting semiotics until an inevitable meaninglessness rears up in smugness.

"There is Nothing here.

Nothing for you,

Nothing Of you,

Nothing."


The mind will not accept, that it, in it's biological supremacy, is simultaneously, Nothing.
A joke.
Some vapid expression of consciousness.
The mind will only protect, that which it most values; Esteem.
Reverence of it's own structure.
The Marvel.
A human, student, sales-assistant, a sister...
...Something? ...Anything?...

"There is Nothing here.

Nothing for you,

Nothing Of you,

Nothing."


The mind is a tool, one of the most primitive.
Natural selection adding accessories like some distasteful outfit.
The mind means well.
Aching to Justify, with inelegant adjectives, it's fondness of itself.
Petrified of it's "Nothingness";  
The wordlessness that conveys meaning no mind can ascribe to language.

"There is Nothing here.

Nothing for you,

Nothing Of you,

Nothing."



please Stop mind.

The thrashing and the squirming,
stop flexing your Precocious Verbiage.

just stop.

.
.


allow Me to quell your convolution, using your own Pig English;

you are unequivocally a  Thing.

And, there IS Nothing here.
And it is NOT For you.
And it is not OF you.

//It//Is//Nothing//

you, Are a possession,
I, the possessor.
Therefore you,
My most precious of things,

Will never fathom Me.

.

Because you are Something,
and so, you are not.


But I am Nothing.

For, I - am.
While he was in the alchemical session with Valekiria with the ***** lushness in the veins of his beloved, he felt instantly the arrival of some mounts. Etréstles, goes out and looks around the store and makes sure that Alexander the Great's entourage was there. I brought him a letter. Etréstles alerts Mardiath and the others. As the General pulls out his Leonatus, he dismounts and approaches the tent where his chief commander Vernarth was. He sees him surrounded by probes, which were like branches inserted by his right pectoral and his main veins.

Alexander the Great says:

Khaire, "I wish you joy" my great Commander Vernarth ...!!. He raises his hands, clicking with his hands to scatter some tiny earrings, to grind them on his face, they were sent by the Falangists, paying homage to him. They were like pieces of the horse's leashes with gold fillets that they ripped with the hooves of the cavalry from the armor of the bruised containers. With the tips of his fingers up his face and his hands up he appealed the presence of Zeus, and then bowed.

The last time I saw your individual, we had alternated to see the enormous over-proportioned bravery that Vernarth imposed on the battle. Here you arranged your army so that we could face everywhere, forming a large rectangle that we could face attacks from anywhere. I saw millions of Arrows fall on our army, I paid attention to you, your Lord Vernarth, who went with your wounded right breastplate, also semi hanging your Hoplite breastplate. You had legs and shoulders with impostor arrows that did not detract you from continuing with the ****** ramming of the enemy infants who were incapable of you. You mounted Alikanto and with all the momentum in an act of extreme madness you ravaged the insistent enemy ranks. There was the last great moment that I could see about your great courage and bravery to decapitate the enemy troops. Today we have defeated and I will go after Darío after his flight, which is what the world did behind him who should never have dared against our alliance with our army.

Vernarth replies:
All plunged into the Dorus and Xiphos with their multiple ****** edges, like a new blood alliance that must provide us with a new life beyond our deaths. In the hand of the blacksmith forger will reside the new lands where we have to implement new expeditions.

Brisehal, my Dog of Lut, embarrassed his ambitions to tarnish our designs. Now on the plain there are signs of panic, that only He infused on the bodies unscathed by the Falangists, they are witnesses of our daring and of the wild rebellion that caused the flight of the Achaemenides. On the glory that I do not stop aspiring, I will go to my hopes of meeting my ancestors in paradise, I have to gratify my great brotherhood to the kingdom of creation that boils through the great chimneys of the universe separating the own faculties from the power of true love , that make us coexist with our arms and legs without it being anything clearer than the footprint of the shadows, more exceptional than the same that others must thank with love to represent under all the limits that exceed the upper limits.
Alexander the Great embraces him and honors him with his battalion. His comrade Hephaestion dispenses the liturgy and dedicates a war song chanted by one hundred Hoplites plus the inclusion of his figure on the Hellenic banner to always be part of the military emblem arc of all the Greek armies and the coming social class. The Liturgy begins for a great commander and a good soldier who inherited new lands. Not only because the greed of the enemies could not be hidden, but mainly because he worked the land, which was a school of virtue for the veteran, in which he acquired the qualities of vigilance, strength and justice that form the basis of the military spirit with honors.

Hoplites say: with the General's voice in unison Khaire !!, “We wish you joy”. Our lord Vernarth eternal life. He will never forget, and he will remain enrolled in this life and the other all this feat, as a great soldier and comrade, who will also be the father of our family, out of concern to preserve the freedom of all of us, who will now be ours in the good reason to fight.

Hephaestion proclaims: Same nation and age with my lord Alexander the Great. As a Macedonian aristocrat and a Macedonian general noble. I do not see another certainty when we know your greatest skill in all the works that will be sculpted in our monuments. Today we must before your divine figure, of our credit to compensate all those who will swallow history before the same people as their own bite. Aristotle will grant volumes to refer to Vernarth in his history as a contribution of Helenofilo hero and all the jargon involving the new and unpublished diet of the poetics of the Greek world.


In the third part of the noon, when a voluminous day the most underlined epithets of the homage to the greatest commander of Alexander the Great increased; all would leave to continue the investigation of Darío III. In the store were Mardiath and Etréstles faithfully accompanying them along with his wife Valekiria.


The Parapsychological session resumes:

While Vernarth was in the hands of the Medical Medium, they kept their narrations attentive, which his assistant recorded and took note of the most relevant. To know more about his incessant chronicles. Countless journalists and people in the field of information were already stationed there near the building, all shocked by the reputation that this unusual parapsychological event had taken, before the clinical, political, cultural and news media.

Ellipsis Vernarth in Berlin, Germany - April 16, 1945:

Vernarth was paying attention to Reichstag defenders April 16, 1945. As he walked between the cross-shootings of the Wehrmacht and Allied sides. He walked in between the Battle of Berlin, which was the last major battle in Europe during World War II. It began on April 16, 1945 after the start of a major Soviet Union offensive on the capital city of the Third *****, and ended on May 2, 1945, when German defenders surrendered in the city to the Red Army. That full ability allowed Vernarth to interrelate inter-war situations of a political / warlike nature, as for this stage that remained to be reported. Now it was already in Germany occupied by the Soviet army. And to be able to continue living intensely in this way the marks and vestiges of the bullets of heavy caliber, which would be of great historical boast for future civilizations and their socio-political criticism, which still follow these marks of bullets in all the generations of this great Nation.

"On January 12, 1945, the Red Army entered German territory during the Vistula-Oder offensive and advanced westward at great speed, up to forty kilometers a day, entering Eastern Prussia, Lower and Upper Silesia and Eastern Pomerania, to a stop sixty kilometers east of Berlin, on a German defensive line along the Oder River. When the offensive resumed, two Soviet fronts - army groups - attacked Berlin from positions to the east and south, while a third attacked German positions to the north of the city. The first preparations to defend the outskirts of Berlin began on March 20, when the newly appointed commander of Army Group Vistula, General Gotthard Heinrici, correctly anticipated that the bulk of Soviet troops would cross the Oder River. Before the start of the battle of Berlin, the Soviets managed to surround the city thanks to their victories in the battles of the Seelow and Halbe hills. On April 16, 1945, the First Belarusian Front led by Marshal of the Soviet Union Gueorgui Zhúkov began to bombard central Berlin, while the First Ukrainian Front led by Marshal Ivan Kónev, pushed south to the remains of the Army Group Center. The German defenders were led primarily by Helmuth Weidling, and consisted of exhausted, ill-equipped, and disorganized divisions of the Wehrmacht and Waffen-SS, to which many joined. Thousands of Russian cannons bombed day and night, air control Russian was total, the avenues were at the expense of fanatical Waffen SS, totally Blocked ”.

Vernarth, was crossed by means of the Reichstag, and was parapet taking a German machine gun to harass Soviet soldiers, who only used it to protect himself, limiting that he was neutral. Then he disappeared into the hills and kept his distance, only seeing the immense fires that were trying to take over a dominated city. The Reichstag building was located in the already abandoned Tiergarten district, in the Mitte district of Berlin, the capital of Germany. Where he was just interned with the combatants, and in order not to be captured he served the side that received him unequivocally.

Thousands of Russian cannon bombed day and night, Russian air control was complete, the avenues were at the expense of Waffen SS fanatics and blocked. Vernarth was crossed by means of heavy transport vehicles and mortar and cannon bombs, until cornered in some skirmishes and colossal ruins. Where he manages to escape and heads to the Hotel Adlon, a great palace of kaiseres and authorities of the great bourgeoisie. Here he manages to reside and finally escape crossing borders without knowing, thinking about going to Munich and crossing other borders, perhaps disdain to join the allied side and serve as a spy.

To be continued, under edition
XVIII THREE FNALS BUMODOS
sara burns Dec 2013
She loved an earth that held her firm, relentlessly present, a strong & constant landscape whose only inclination was to bear her

She loved a wind from across the world that touched her skin in some unspoken, selfless way that made her know she had any body at all

She loved a wildfire in its blazing and consumptive chaos, sagely conscious that she was burning from within its hungry & narcotic flames

And they loved her in their ways, steadily, sadly; distinct but alike in unequivocally knowing she was opaque, arcane, unfathomable:

In need of a measureless ocean that awed her from each vantage point, that could do nothing but swallow her whole with an all-powerful calm
This doodling Yankee (boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger hut issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold
doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky (with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling

(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial
jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill by  Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel
capriciously, felicitously,

and indubitably stripped away
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill) to duff fend themselves
whereat mortality will steal immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux existence
capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,

indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink from ethically principled,

but give full reign to selfish callous deleterious foibles,
gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,

justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto
lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor doodling Yankee staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.
Q Dec 2016
I don't trust you with it
I want to rip the infested pieces of you away from it
Scourge you out from every nook and cranny
Rip the oldest remnant of you from the deepest crag in it
And place you in a thick glass jar

I want to observe you from every angle and know you inside out
And only then will I know if I'd prefer to wrap you up
Or tear you down
But whichever I chose I would never, never let you out

I would keep you from it but know you both so well
Not even your mother could boast to know more
I would rend you from each other and stitch you back together
And bind you both to me that way my mind screams at me to do

But

First I must reach out and you must grasp my hand
I would love to hear all about you
If you'd open up and let me see who you are
I will accept every filthy and clean part of you
All I require is your every thought
Every breath
Every heartbeat
I ask so little of you
You ask so much of me

You ask me to be a friend in the sense
That you are not entirely unequivocally mine
I refuse
You ask me to be a confidant as though I am not aware of who needs to hear the words you will say
I refuse
You ask me to believe you because you are honest
As though I don't know who you were and are
I refuse
You ask me to care to listen to hear you and I can do all that and more but you have done nothing for me

Slit your throat for me.
Show me you truly need only me to care
Reach down into your chest and present your heart to me
Open your skull and give me your brain
Prove that you trust me enough to check its every secret
Empty out your arteries for me. Show me you trust I'll put you back together
Give me your organs and know that I'll hold you to life

I will accept then
I will listen then
I will care then
You've no clue the extent to which I love those who give me all of them
I will love until heaven and hell and earth and the universe itself wither away
Eternally
Unwaveringly
If I have all of you
You will have me.
This started out restrained and ended up in the too far jar. Whoops.
PoserPersona Apr 2018
From the iron red sea flows
an infinite forest of white roots and gray leaves

Unequivocally woven in response to
the senses of each unique being

Ahhh, if timeless beauty is what you seek,
let the transcendental levies bleed

For that which may be perceived internally,
will be embellished eternally
Poetry
We constantly deal with poetry which puts us in a soporific state,
we sit here apathetic to the cause of studying this beautiful art-
but Poetry’s breath Ad Nauseum about love and laments is bad for a date,
oblivious to the images, while attempting to turn the key we begin to depart.

Yet the door haunts us, novels, plays, yet poetry is the apex,
of this ethereal mystery within the maelstrom that is our mind,
alas this frustration is focused upon the conundrum of poetry being complex,
is it just a condensed novel, this Herculean Task of understanding the undefined.

There are many who deem poetry obsolete but tis rather far from its nadir,
now begins the unequivocally splendid power of the imagination-
hidden by poetry from the vituperative invader,
who’ve made an egregious mistake in deeming poetry a partial differential equation.

Imagination, oh what a beauty long forgotten in the age of reason-
we’ve been given Hobson’s choice, force fed Occam’s razor, given epitome-
yet good ol’ imagination persist like an excretion,
from the eyes of the true daughter of Time, Science’s proficiency.

People assume poetry is the modern day Gordian’s Knot-
well- let us assume this is Utopia, were Imagination runs wild-
as she watches her forest, a black cat surreptitiously passes a man in thought,
startled because it is Friday the thirteenth his Triskaidekaphobia acts up- this is all rather mild-

Just the tip of the iceberg was touched upon, just the tip-
Poetry and humanity is an oleaginous affair we mix but do not blend,
Or should we, poems are nothing more than what we put in, as if to dip-
just our toes, before we plunge head first into poems so as to apprehend.

Poetry is the Sun, as you are the flowers shined upon,
given warmth of knowledge and power if you are to just reach.
Not to let Poetry in as if to catch on-
give it back in your own form of speech.

Through your own imagination feed poetry,
It hungers for your reality, though not reality-
procrastinate not- hopefully,
for your conceptions are your sanity.

Or rather is fancy your faculty- decide,
it will affect your observation of poetry forevermore.
It will excite-
whether you believe it to or not- you will love or abhor.

Poetry is not arduous -
just do not assume there is a secret door.
In fact poetry is quite virtuous-
Seek only what you can give poetry, I do implore.
A poetry that required certain vocab words, had some fun with it.
Denis Barter Jul 2018
When poetry describes the historical,
One refrains from becoming hysterical.
However by use of the judicial rhetorical
A Poet makes full use of the allegorical!

So when writing poetry I remain stoical,
That though some may think me radical,
Employing words they considered lyrical,
I try never to appear, irrational or critical.

To write about the mystical and cryptical,
Using strict rhythm?  Can be diabolical!
As for themes regarded purely mythical,
I shy from words too pictorial or technical.

My approach to topics humourously comical,
Is to compose lines thoughtfully satirical.
In turn this allows me to remain sceptical,
Whilst appearing not too fanatical or cynical!

So, if with words I am reckoned economical?
I hope my rational thoughts are not illogical,
But in using descriptive words, is it ethical
To ensure Poems not be too whimsical?

Now, without appearing to be pontifical,
Though I'm always careful to be veridical,
I'm allowed at times, to wax philosophical,
As I attempt to depict matters paradoxical.

Doubtless some will find my words inimical:
Fanatically methodical and chronological?
But in attempting the facetious or ironical,
I'll avoid the pitfalls of being too graphical.

Should poetry be left to the technological?
One might find it becomes too puritanical.
And suggest the Poet was unduly practical!
Such is the way of the biased hypocritical!

If my poetic lines appear to be egotistical?
Then readers must understand, that's logical.
But please I beg of you, never be heretical,
When lines concern the canonical or political.

Will a Poet's thoughts be considered farcical,
If a reader is left bemused and quizzical?
Or should he stick to the unequivocally canonical?
Personally, I'm happy if my poems are grammatical!

So I'll conclude thinking poetry may be symbolical,
And my many rhymes, in quantities numerical,
May not satisfy the purist nor the global ecumenical,
But they deal with topics that are never hypothetical!


Rhymer.  July 10th, 2018.

(Your turn Jim!)
Dawn King Mar 2015
It tears at you
Eats away and corrodes the very life of you

It is unequivocally the most obscene shock show of your life
But it haunts and torments you

It’s like a train wreck
The one that is so profoundly gruesome

It makes you want to jump out of your skin
But you just can’t stop watching

There is peace and solace in the damage
Comfort in the decay
Affirmation in the aftermath

It tears at you
And you hold your darkness so dearly
As an opportunist would

For embracing anything other
May launch you into waxing abound
Phillip Hooper Sep 2014
I see...

Majestic stallions, composed of stars, riding tides, of deep night sky,  
In my eyes,

I feel...
reverberations of water on flesh,
as mothers tears give meaning to young sons early death,

I hear anger, in the voice of the old, whipping youths ears, like december cold,

Can i speak? may i be so bold,
as to caress the worlds order, and try to fold,
solid institutions cracking with decay,
whose every single fisher seems to give way,
to a ray,
of light,
previously unseen,
the veiled confusion of darkness ripped by knowledge at the seem,

choose never to break,
from,
my dream world till kingdom come,
drunk off imagination like a pirate off ***,
running with mental agility a bullet out a gun,
when all is said and done,

DREAMS SET ME FREE!
unequivocally,
like an ancient man staring into a stream,
my dream,
reflects me,
and when my eyes close,
i start to see
Jenni Aug 2015
I'd be angry
I think
If I still possessed the ability
To experience a full range
Of human emotion
Shades of grey
Are all that I know
But sometimes
I watch the news
Or read an article
And for a moment
My apathy is shattered
For a fleeting second
I am angry
I am furious
And I am fire and brimstone
Personified
Intent on raining hell on Earth
For the injustice
The greed
The cruelty
The ignorance
That seeps from every corner
Like lava
Engulfing everything in sight
But then
My blinds are once again drawn
My fire is suffocated
I am sedate
And in ashy greyness
I sit
Unfeeling
Once again
Unfazed
By all that is wrong
Unequivocally
And
Unblinkingly
Apathetic

It's what they want from me
But I'm still unsure how to be free
Travis Green Oct 2021
You make my body evolve
With your hot thoughts
Your enthralling jargon
When you talk
When your eyes
Are focalized on mine
Listening to your
Strong-toned voice
That absorbs me
How I adore your alluring
Shore of masculinity
So happy that you are mine
That you love me unequivocally
RC Dec 2014
He unsettles the deepest parts of me
tremors reverberate through my bones
awaken unfamiliar motives
spit dusky intentions into my skull.
His taste lingers with a burn on my lips
and I can still see the darkening bruises
his fingertips coaxed onto my skin.
They intensify by the day.
He planted seeds in my mouth
bouts of lurid need growing south
and he knows  they're  there.
I swear, his eyes drill holes in my lungs
where the cattails are tearing through
too fragile tissue
clinging to and pressing up against my chest
I think he sees their impressions on my flesh
but I can't break his gaze
I'm a moth and his eyes are ablaze
he's tracing my visible strain to look away
he wants me to miss the warmth of his flame
and I do.
Regrettably
Irresponsibly
Unequivocally
do.
I hope he never sees this dear lord. He won't.. but ****.
I think of all the air I’ve breathed
Happily ******* it in to the maximum, and then
That time he forced it down
Swallowed my “no” with his tongue
Both instances equally oxygenated

Why are the somber, sober selections always
unequivocally deeper in their loveliness
Scathing crisscross critique
Harsh words cannot dampen my fire
Hot and smoky I inhale

Steaming in this teepee from my fourth grade field trip
some re-creation of real civilization
absent was the metallic machinery
I long for stars brighter than
Plastic Hollywood

Ten and I convinced your mother I had died in a car crash
The first instance of my violent imagination
My conscience, sloth like, inverted blame
Like a sock turned inside out
I wished what I said was true

Years later I started the slow process of intentionally dying
Stupid girl I was. Unoriginal like the others
Only sewed up my holes. They asked me if I had a plan
Spitefully silent and still
I did not reply because I did not care to

The rolling hills of my temper
Emerged as I exited the binding comfort of my home
Young adulthood in all its glorious newness left me devoid
Of confidence in my ability to breathe on my own
Therapy and tablets forced me to care

Today I am high
I spew words
You don’t write poetry she says
Playing with words like string
It runs through my fingers, loose then taught, then a mess of tangle on the floor

As ******* as my tongue
Lapping up the air
Derek Miller Feb 2011
I wish to now express to you
This feeling that my heart speaks true.
What's happened here is just and right,
Bestowing herculean might.
It seems but yesterday I saw
A beauty that left me in awe.
Like moth to flame I moved to see
And quell my curiosity.
I wish that you could know that joy
And hopes that I did then employ.
As they unfolded like a dream,
I could do naught but gaze and beam.
My smile never left my face,
And though I'd known my heart to race,
I let you know that though It'd run
This was the first time that It'd won.
And It was then I fell for you.
It felt too good that you did too.
But gracefully you swept me up.
My unkempt joy spilled from my cup.
From here we seemed to grow so fast,
All timid fear left in the past.
And you became a part of me,
A light that always brings me glee.
It seems I've known you all this time,
Though without reason, without rhyme.
I don't care that it makes no sense.
I'll fight against all false pretense.
For you're the sun that climbs and falls.
You're the voice that always calls
When I'm in need and cannot sleep.
This ambient fervor reaches deep.
You're so much more than my best friend,
Because together we transcend
Whatever problems we might face,
And still remain here in this space
That we have fought to call our own.
I'm proud to say this is my home.
Wherever you are, there I'll be,
And all shall now be called to see
It's in my heart that you reside.
Forever will you there abide.
I wish that words could mean much more.
To strength of writing I implore.
I wish for you to know this state.
I'm so sure now this is our fate.
Analogies don't quite assume
The roles I want them to presume.
It looks as if it's come to this.
I'm sorry if I seem remiss.
I cannot find another way
To speak what my heart begs to say.
So here it is, laid bare to see,
With all the strength inside of me.
Sweetheart, I love you. Always, true.
There's nothing I won't do for you.
For I would face the worst of life.
I'd tackle any fearful strife
If in the end, it meant you're here
For me to claim and hold me near.
Your warmth does things I can't relate.
No way could I articulate
My love for you, Its strength or will.
Even in death, I'll remain still,
Eternally yours, I'll always know;
Darling, I love you, unequivocally so.
Oliver Philip Dec 2018
A Poets quest.
An ABCDERIAN poetry form.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Avant couriers of final solutions
Battalions left fighting by the way
Condescending world powers twittering
Deeming all they say as gospel of the day
Everything under the sun or darkest shadows
Foolishly not admitting their own failings ever
Gathering hatred at each turn of every corner
Happy that their heads were in the sand.
Indiscriminating constant betwixt good n evil

Janissary exterminates all cause or principal
Knowing nothing of the true skill of judgement
Lasciviously take good from good for no good
Microlithic walls of stones to cover errors
Navigatiors using ancient charts for guidance
Outrageously heralding credit for the route
Perchance they knew no natural pathway
Quadrature at ninety between the sun n moon
Revived old Christian scruples long forgotten

Saviours ? Save all states from self destruction
Tablature of a tragic outcome hard to face.
Unequivocally tough on any creed or religion
Vededictory taken two thousand years to build
Wrapped indiscriminately up in just one missile
Xenelas now mankind from each world corner
Yea from peaceful pastures grazed for years
Zion heaping up evangelical dogma.
              Pray to God and let us learn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December.  11th . 2018.
Think about a Poets quest from A to Z.
Convalescence,
How are you?
Better,
But I've been saying it
Since the beginning.
Are the whispers inside true,
That maybe I can finally start to believe it?

What did it take,
Some may innocently wonder.
Patience.
With every single breath I make.
I've been half trying to ignore the improvement,
Fearing one moments notice will
Surely steal it all back.
"No," I whisper alone, "I want to be better."

The other half
Astonished,
I try to be proud for the little things now,
So really I should feel
Amazing.

I swear I do very much venerate all of my achievements,
It was the only way,
That I could continue to survive.

Unequivocally honestly,
I'm afraid.
Scared of it all going wrong again.
Waiting to feel the terror of all the endless times I've tried,
Getting thrown right back in my face again.
Because isn't that what's been destined to happen
From the very start?

I've been having an almost
Two month long rest,
A complete break of everything.
It was only meant to last a month, but after that month had been and gone,
It started to actually feel
A little better, brighter,
Less dark.

I'll admit it,
I'm guilty,
Guilty of getting comfortable with how it started to feel.
I didn't want it ripped away from me,
Please.
I know once it's gone it will be hard as Hell to get back,
I've already been through all that,
I am still.

I want to get back to pushing myself.
(Like this)
I never wanted to stop,
But I had to listen,
My body was screaming at me, for me
To stop.
And this evidence is telling me why I had to listen.
It seems you can't beat your body,
Ever, but especially not when it's fighting for you and against you.

And the symptoms yelled
Please stop, please be still,
Like they wanted me to sleep all day,
But still it will take half-a-year for there to be any difference.
But I waited.
I didn't get any choices.

So now, I'm sorry
It just terrifies me that trying,
When I finally let it be,
Might tear me back down, to where I used to be.
I'm not foolish enough to expect this is the end.
Surely when I try again my symptoms will join in too.
They only started to improve
The more I tried to rest.
Yes, eventually - After a lot of effort I got here,
But you have no idea how I tried.
How I limited my actions,
So in a month maybe it won't be so hard.
Now I'm here, I'm worried my efforts will send me back.
Wasted.
Don't make me go,
I don't want to be useless anymore,
I'm still bad but so much better,
Please don't
Stop me,
Hurt me,
Trip me,
Trap me,
Lose me to my own body.
Not anymore.
I'm still here
Fighting.
Martyn Grindrod Jul 2019
Wife of mine
What see shine
gemstone glow
finger left four

A vows, a vow
spoken, set in stone
A promise unbroken
never needing atone

A milestone me and you
i can unequivocally say
a quarter of a century
not one less nor more a day

years five past
ten amore
fifteen adore
A score i beseech
Anniversary silver reach.


Martyn Grindrod
My wife Valerie Joy's and i's 25th wedding anniversary and this is the poem inside her card
Ashley R Prince Sep 2012
You rolled off of me
and I felt nothing.
You wanted to keep
it casual,
and I felt everything.
A simultaneous relief
and destruction in
three words.

I don't want that.

I want to be loved
unequivocally and
there is nothing
casual
about that.
Ali Mayo Aug 2014
I want you to plunge right in me
Feel your fingers yank my hair
I want to see the hunger
Of your heated, ravenous stare...
I want to feel you moving
Set a fiercely, lustful pace
I want to sense the moment....
Your control has lost the race....
I want to embrace your body
Grasp you tightly with my thigh
I want to hear your rasping moan,
Hear your deeply, sated sigh.....
I want to hold you to me
Feel your heat upon my skin
I know your love's gone through me
Purging demons...deep within....
I want to whisper 'I love you...'
Caress that staggering beat
I want you to know....you are my world
I am unequivocally.......complete!
SE Reimer Feb 2016
~

i have always loved the truth that...


grief shared

is grief divided,



while love shared

is love multiplied!


~


*post script.

gives new meaning to
"sharing in one's suffering"

and

allows us to say unequivocally,
"i'll give you a share of mine!"

my inspiration- PoetryJournal,  please read their’s here:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1551297/shine-when-you-burn/

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