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Invocation May 2015
>Light! infused

We are all one under this sun

>wires unfused

Tap me out and tap me into you

>no longer confused

Bring me serenity and healing

>Life, unused

Let me stand as Earth and Mother

>Scars acrue

Battered gently, I will grow

>Ahead she flew

Your place in this universe will never change

>Not yet for you

Wait a while with me and sing of Earth's beauty

>Too much to do

You can help me love everyone
We are cell
Faiq Arif Dec 2020
Lemme collect these shambles, ones scattered in the name of cards ungambled. Battles that left me rattled. Pieces that never fell together.

Realisations gone to tatters. Memories forgotten, altogether. These pieces of armor unfused forever.

Energies wasted in mindless splendor, with ideals crafted in inks without matter.  

These caricatures of youth, wasted in canvas of unwritten letters.

These realisations altogether, left us with spirits now dampened.      

Realisations, you say? No its the room, the walls, the paint, the comfort, the pain that has left you with these echoes, voices that never mattered.
Erin Triste Mar 2013
I've finally come in terms
And this gaping hole's closing up
Quicksand's hardening 'neath my feet
Where I was trapped waist up.

Breathe it in, at what cost?
Gush it out, unfused
No war was lost
The knives are left unused
Senryu

Bending trees in storm
The resistance of survivors
Another winter gone

Senryu

A sandhill removed
The oak had no protection
Roots in sandy soil

Senryu

Glowing almond tree  
Do not resist the tempest
Unfused let it pass


Senryu
Upset almond tree
Someone called it a bush
****** botanists
Ryan O'Leary Oct 2021
En Passant

Just in passing I heard someone
say Julian, it was close to Belmarsh.

A ***** no doubt serving him slop.

0-0/ They took his glasses and his
computer.

The Marquis de Sade went blind in
a poorly lit cell, he was a writer.

They took his Quills and Ink when
he was at Vienciennes/Paris.

That was back in the 1800s, he was
never convicted by a court either.

             <>

Authors beware.

The moving finger writes, and having
writ, moves on.
Nor all your piety nor wit can lure it
back to cancel half a line
Nor all your tears wash out a word
of it.

            <>

Undercover

Below the street where we
all contribute to societies
waste is housed the ultimate
democracy, sewage, egality
at its finest and all overseen
by the rats,

It is where our methane meets
where an undetonated natural
device remains unfused or ignited.

But the clock is ticking, it is only
a matter of time for some lateral
thinking freedom fighter of a
persecuted nation to suddenly
see the potential of this harvest.

Just imagine a city such as
London brought back to the
middle ages, town criers
“ Bring Out Your Waste
  Bring Out Your Waste
  Bring Out Your Waste “.

End of tourism, a pile up
of effluent a tsunami of
faeces added to daily by
a population of 8 Million.

Undercover is a manhole
lid easily removed and a
lot of them, but even if they
seal them all up, a device
can be delivered by means
of a Royal Flush.

And not a solitary human
loss.






Ps.

Pass on to the disgruntled.

— The End —