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I thought that I was the next thompson
I can't unthink that now
I thought I was a pathetic little wannabe playing himself up to be something more
I can't unthink that now  
I stared at a women on the subway for a solid time and then wrote a note telling her she was beautiful and laid it beside her
I can’t unsay that now
I told my older brother that I think he has asbergers syndrome
I can’t unsay that now
I realized as I took a puff of a joint that I was only doing so because I wanted an excuse to sit and do nothing all day
I can’t unthink that now
Subsequently I understood that all of my consummate drug use is not in any sense exploration or experimentation but simply an escape from my persistent thought
I can’t unthink that now
While listening to a boost mobile add I realized that they were targeting black people by using words like “bling bling” and an obvious ebonic accent
I can’t unthink that now
I saw another ad where the bodyless voice claimed “size does matter” and realized that it was playing on the general inadequacy issues and ***** envy of most men
I can’t unthink that now
Standing on the street I thought about stepping in front of a bus
I can’t unthink that now
While discussing gender politics with a friend I drew a comparison between liberal activist sentiments and culturally accepted cannibalism
I can’t unsay that now
While holding a knife for a brief second I thought about pushing through her back
I can’t unthink that now
I told a black couple that they look exactly alike
I can’t unsay that now
I saw a thick assed black women walk past me and was over whelmed with jealousy at the idea that she would never sleep with a white boy like me
I can’t unthink that now
I heard about the lacrosse team at notre dame being accuse of ****** that girl and thought “how horrible now all of those guys lives are ruined”
I can’t unthink that now
I stood with some friends at a bar and derided them with ******* like “I ain’t got money like all you haha”
I can’t unsay that now
I told a my girlfriend that she had cankles
I can’t unsay that now
I asked my ex girlfriend if she wanted to have a ******* with my new girlfriend and I
I can’t unsay that now
I identified with the title of the nirvana song “I hate myself and want to die”
I can’t unthink that now
I thought that the world would probably be better and would function much more smoothly if there weren’t any races or religions
I can’t unthink that now
I thought that I would rather be black or gay because then I would have something to be angry about
I can’t unthink that now
I used to think about running away so then I could have one of those romantic stories of the runaway who went and made his own life
I can’t unthink that now
I used to wish my parents hated each other for similar reasons
I can’t unthink that now
I saw a beautiful ******* the street and immediately thought that she must be so boring because her whole life is given to her because she is so beautiful
I can’t unthink that now
I gave money to one of those gay rights activists on the street and felt smugly confident in my own liberal open-mindedness
I can’t unthink that now
I held a steak knife and wondered how it would feel to run it through my eye
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that if we believe that one action causes another our lives are fundamentally determined from the beginning and are therefore meaningless
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that if we really do have the power of choice then it inevitably follows that one action is not caused by another and that all of everything is essentially random and life is similarly meaningless
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that my life is only as good as it is because it is built on the backs of endless suffering others
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that despite all of these ugly and despicable realizations about myself I still think I’m a pretty good guy
I can’t unthink that now
gusto pud nako mafeel ang nafeel sa ubang baye.
kana bang panguyaban ka,
tapos isayaw ka sa laki sa tunga sa mga tawo,
haranahon sa balay, tagaan og bulak, magholding hands sa plaza, kantahan, ignan og pick-up lines, og uban pa.
kanang bang pakiligon ka niya.
gusto nako mafeel kung unsay feeling na naay nagmahal nimo.
pero unsaon man nako?
na ako usa ra man ka pobreng bayot
og maot pagyud
dili man ko usa ka baye
usahay makapangutana ko nganong wala pa man ko himoang baye sa ginoo?
muingon sila na ang yawa daw gahimo sa akoa
pero wala man nako gigusto na maning-ani ko.
manghinaot unta ko na naay mahigugma kanako pero kabalo ko nga wala
*hinaot unta na naa kay ako usa ra ka tawo nga nanginahanglan pud og gugma
111415-2159
Angelito D Libay Jun 2020
Unom ka bulan na ang nilabay
Sa unang pag wave nako sa imo ug pag HI
Akong kasakit, kagool, ug kalaay
Napulihan sa ngisi, pagkakita nako sa imong reply

Nakahinomdom pako sa una
Moving on ko; naay nagparamdam sa imoha
Abi jud nako ug kamo nang duha
Apan sa dihang gi-ghosting ra diay ka niya.

Mao to, niulpot akong kasingkasing sa kalipay
Paramdam dayon ko, wala nako nagdugay-dugay
Nagahamdom na mapansapin nimo ko bisan gamay
Ikaw naman gud ang gipangita sa akong kasingkasing kanunay

Dalawampu, baynti, o twenty
Bisan paman ug unsay tawag nato niini
Para sa ako adlaw ni na naay dakong bili
Sa atoang panaghinigalaay, mao ni atong monthsary.

Karon, boot nako isulti sa imoha pag usab
Na ako, dili magbag-o sa akong mga saad
Dili teka biyaan, tinood ni walay sagol ilad
Ubanan teka ug dili nako buhian ang imong mga palad.
O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw
The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
Came furious down to be revenged on men,
Woe to the inhabitants on earth! that now,
While time was, our first parents had been warned
The coming of their secret foe, and ’scaped,
Haply so ’scaped his mortal snare:  For now
Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,
The tempter ere the accuser of mankind,
To wreak on innocent frail Man his loss
Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell:
Yet, not rejoicing in his speed, though bold
Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,
Begins his dire attempt; which nigh the birth
Now rolling boils in his tumultuous breast,
And like a devilish engine back recoils
Upon himself; horrour and doubt distract
His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir
The Hell within him; for within him Hell
He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell
One step, no more than from himself, can fly
By change of place:  Now conscience wakes despair,
That slumbered; wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be
Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue.
Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view
Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;
Sometimes towards Heaven, and the full-blazing sun,
Which now sat high in his meridian tower:
Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began.
O thou, that, with surpassing glory crowned,
Lookest from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
Of Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down
Warring in Heaven against Heaven’s matchless King:
Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to afford him praise,
The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks,
How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high
I sdeined subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome still paying, still to owe,
Forgetful what from him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then
O, had his powerful destiny ordained
Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition!  Yet why not some other Power
As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,
Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations armed.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?
Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,
But Heaven’s free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
O, then, at last relent:  Is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
The Omnipotent.  Ay me! they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of Hell.
With diadem and scepter high advanced,
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery:  Such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain,
By act of grace, my former state; how soon
Would highth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore?  Ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall:  so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.
This knows my Punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging, peace;
All hope excluded thus, behold, in stead
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell, hope; and with hope farewell, fear;
Farewell, remorse! all good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good; by thee at least
Divided empire with Heaven’s King I hold,
By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;
As Man ere long, and this new world, shall know.
Thus while he spake, each passion dimmed his face
Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despair;
Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayed
Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld.
For heavenly minds from such distempers foul
Are ever clear.  Whereof he soon aware,
Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm,
Artificer of fraud; and was the first
That practised falsehood under saintly show,
Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge:
Yet not enough had practised to deceive
Uriel once warned; whose eye pursued him down
The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount
Saw him disfigured, more than could befall
Spirit of happy sort; his gestures fierce
He marked and mad demeanour, then alone,
As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen.
So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
Access denied; and overhead upgrew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend,
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of Paradise upsprung;                        

Which to our general sire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire neighbouring round.
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,
Appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed:
On which the sun more glad impressed his beams
Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,
When God hath showered the earth; so lovely seemed
That landskip:  And of pure now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive
All sadness but despair:  Now gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils.  As when to them who fail
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozambick, off at sea north-east winds blow
Sabean odours from the spicy shore
Of Araby the blest; with such delay
Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league
Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles:
So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend,
Who came their bane; though with them better pleased
Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume
That drove him, though enamoured, from the spouse
Of Tobit’s son, and with a vengeance sent
From Media post to Egypt, there fast bound.
Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill
Satan had journeyed on, pensive and slow;
But further way found none, so thick entwined,
As one continued brake, the undergrowth
Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplexed
All path of man or beast that passed that way.
One gate there only was, and that looked east
On the other side: which when the arch-felon saw,
Due entrance he disdained; and, in contempt,
At one flight bound high over-leaped all bound
Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within
Lights on his feet.  As when a prowling wolf,
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,
Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve
In hurdled cotes amid the field secure,
Leaps o’er the fence with ease into the fold:
Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cash
Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors,
Cross-barred and bolted fast, fear no assault,
In at the window climbs, or o’er the tiles:
So clomb this first grand thief into God’s fold;
So since into his church lewd hirelings climb.
Thence up he flew, and on the tree of life,
The middle tree and highest there that grew,
Sat like a cormorant; yet not true life
Thereby regained, but sat devising death
To them who lived; nor on the virtue thought
Of that life-giving plant, but only used
For prospect, what well used had been the pledge
Of immortality.  So little knows
Any, but God alone, to value right
The good before him, but perverts best things
To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
Beneath him with new wonder now he views,
To all delight of human sense exposed,
In narrow room, Nature’s whole wealth, yea more,
A Heaven on Earth:  For blissful Paradise
Of God the garden was, by him in the east
Of Eden planted; Eden stretched her line
From Auran eastward to the royal towers
Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings,
Of where the sons of Eden long before
Dwelt in Telassar:  In this pleasant soil
His far more pleasant garden God ordained;
Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow
All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;
And all amid them stood the tree of life,
High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit
Of vegetable gold; and next to life,
Our death, the tree of knowledge, grew fast by,
Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill.
Southward through Eden went a river large,
Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill
Passed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrown
That mountain as his garden-mould high raised
Upon the rapid current, which, through veins
Of porous earth with kindly thirst up-drawn,
Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill
Watered the garden; thence united fell
Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood,
Which from his darksome passage now appears,
And now, divided into four main streams,
Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm
And country, whereof here needs no account;
But rather to tell how, if Art could tell,
How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,
Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold,
With mazy errour under pendant shades
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed
Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art
In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon
Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote
The open field, and where the unpierced shade
Imbrowned the noontide bowers:  Thus was this place
A happy rural seat of various view;
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm,
Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only, and of delicious taste:
Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks
Grazing the tender herb, were interposed,
Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lap
Of some irriguous valley spread her store,
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose:
Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o’er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall
Down the ***** hills, dispersed, or in a lake,
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned
Her crystal mirrour holds, unite their streams.
The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
The trembling leaves, while universal Pan,
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,
Led on the eternal Spring.  Not that fair field
Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers,
Herself a fairer flower by gloomy Dis
Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain
To seek her through the world; nor that sweet grove
Of Daphne by Orontes, and the inspired
Castalian spring, might with this Paradise
Of Eden strive; nor that Nyseian isle
Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,
Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove,
Hid Amalthea, and her florid son
Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea’s eye;
Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard,
Mount Amara, though this by some supposed
True Paradise under the Ethiop line
By Nilus’ head, enclosed with shining rock,
A whole day’s journey high, but wide remote
From this Assyrian garden, where the Fiend
Saw, undelighted, all delight, all kind
Of living creatures, new to sight, and strange
Two of far nobler shape, ***** and tall,
Godlike *****, with native honour clad
In naked majesty seemed lords of all:
And worthy seemed; for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shone,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,
(Severe, but in true filial freedom placed,)
Whence true authority in men; though both
Not equal, as their *** not equal seemed;
For contemplation he and valour formed;
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him:
His fair large front and eye sublime declared
Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
She, as a veil, down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied
Subjection, but required with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best received,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed;
Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame
Of nature’s works, honour dishonourable,
Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind
With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure,
And banished from man’s life his happiest life,
Simplicity and spotless innocence!
So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight
Of God or Angel; for they thought no ill:
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair,
That ever since in love’s embraces met;
Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.
Under a tuft of shade that on a green
Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain side
They sat them down; and, after no more toil
Of their sweet gardening labour than sufficed
To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease
More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite
More grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell,
Nectarine fruits which the compliant boughs
Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline
On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers:
The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind,
Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream;
Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles
Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems
Fair couple, linked in happy nuptial league,
Alone as they.  About them frisking played
All beasts of the earth, since wild, and of all chase
In wood or wilderness, forest or den;
Sporting the lion ramped, and in his paw
Dandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, pards,
Gambolled before them; the unwieldy elephant,
To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathed
His?kithetmroboscis; close the serpent sly,
Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine
His braided train, and of his fatal guile
Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass
Couched, and now filled with pasture gazing sat,
Or bedward ruminating; for the sun,
Declined, was hasting now with prone career
To the ocean isles, and in the ascending scale
Of Heaven the stars that usher evening rose:
When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood,
Scarce thus at length failed speech recovered sad.
O Hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold!
Into our room of bliss thus high advanced
Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps,
Not Spirits, yet to heavenly Spirits bright
Little inferiour; whom my thoughts pursue
PARNELL'S FUNERAL

UNDER the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd.
A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown
About the sky; where that is clear of cloud
Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down;
What shudders run through all that animal blood?
What is this sacrifice? Can someone there
Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star?
Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through,
A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang
A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow;
A woman, and an arrow on a string;
A pierced boy, image of a star laid low.
That woman, the Great Mother imaging,
Cut out his heart.  Some master of design
Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin.
An age is the reversal of an age:
When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone,
We lived like men that watch a painted stage.
What matter for the scene, the scene once gone:
It had not touched our lives.  But popular rage,
Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down.
None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part
Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart.
Come, fix upon me that accusing eye.
I thirst for accusation.  All that was sung.
All that was said in Ireland is a lie
Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng,
Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die.
Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong
To this bare soul, let all men judge that can
Whether it be an animal or a man.
The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay.
Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart
No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day.
No civil rancour torn the land apart.
Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's
Imagination had been satisfied,
Or lacking that, government in such hands.
O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died.
Had even O'Duffy -- but I name no more --
Their school a crowd, his master solitude;
Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there
plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
Glenda Lee Nov 2017
Ngano kaha gihigugma gihapon tika
masking nawala na imong paghigugma sa akoa?

Ngano kaha gipangga gihapon tika masking wala na ka ganahi sa atoa?

Ngano kaha gahandum gihapon ko nga ikaw ug ako gihapon
masking ako nalang ang gapugong sa kung unsay naa ta?

Ngano kaha ikaw ug ikaw gihapon ang pirminte naa sa akong huna huna
masking kabalo kong dili na ako ang naa sa imuha?

Ngano kaha gagunit gihapon ko sa imong saad na ako ra
Masking kabalo kong naa nakay lain na mas angay muhigugma sa imuha?


Siguro ingon ani lang gyud ko mahigugma
Higugmaon gihapon tika masking sakit na kaayo para sa akoa

Siguro ingon ani lang gyud ang gugma
Sakit pero nahigugma raman ko nimo masking ikaw wa na nahigugma sa akoa

Kabalo kong walay taong bogo pero andam ko mabogo kung ang kapuli kay pagpabilin nimo sa akoa

Pero ug kalipay gyud nimo ang mubiya na
Andam nakong mubuhi sa atoa
Andam nakong buhian ka ug ihatag sa iya
Andam nakong ako nalang ug wa nay kita
Kay tungod ingon ana kadako akong paghigugma sa imuha
#gugmasabisaya
#proudbisaya
Mars Pesarez Oct 2018
Kalami ba mag beach ing'aning orasa.
Payts ra ba bahala ako ra usa.
Tapad dayun kug lapad,
Para didto magsulay-sulay kug lupad.
Ambot lang ngano,
Pero lami lagi mang-ungo didto,
Sa mga tawo na nag date-date,
Na sa kahoy nagpa dapid.

Kalami ba putlon,
Ang kahoy na ilang gisandigan.
Pero di nata magpinait diha,
Pasagdi na antik musok'sok,
Sa ilang mga kigot.

Chill nalang sa ko diri,
Ligid ligid sa balas,
Kay kabalo ko nalate raka,
Sa sig pangita sa ice,
Ikaw ray para nako,
Ang tigtimpla sa chaser,
Pangpawala sa pait,
Sa akung ilimnon.

Kabalo ko muabot raka puhon,
Pero dili lang sad ko magdahom.
Hangyo lang nako,
Pag-dali lang diha di maghapit-hapit.
Diristo na sa akua kay para ako maigo na.

Maigo na jud ko sa imung kagwapa,
Huboga na tawun ko sa imung gugma,
Arung ako muundang nakog buhat,
Aning mga tula na bisaya.
Agpas na. Ako kang tagdun.
Diri rakos balas magligid-ligid
Mag tagad nimo.
Anton Jun 2020
I hope nga sama sa coke og tubig,
Piliion mo ako nga tubig,
Dili man tam.is ug lamion,
Basta bisag unsay mahitabo,
dle ka pwedeng mo dle nako,
Kay ako nga tubig makaayo ug makatambal,
Di lang sa tutunlan  asta pod sa imong kauhaw,
Kauhaw sa gugma ug pagamoma.

Dili sama sa soft drinks,
Nga imong pilion ug pangitaon,
Kung ikaw makakaon ug lamion pero bidli na pagkaon,
Apan ikaw maga duhaduha,
Basta ang lawas may gipamati na,
Mga sakit ug balatian nga tandgunon,

Sa gugma, mao ni sila ang atong mga hinigugma kaniadto,
Mas gipili ang kalami  sa karon,
Wala ga lantaw sa possibling sakit,
Sakit nga maabot ig mata sa  kaugmaon,

Maong unta ako nga tubig imong pilion,
Bisag dle tam.is ug lamion,
Mahimo mo man sad ako nga gamiton,
Sa imong pag hunad ug paglimpyo ,
Sa mga preskong samad sa imong kagahapon,


Isaad kong dughan mo pagahugasan,
Pad.on ang tanang kasakit ug kabalaka,
Dughan mo panggaon, higugmaon ug paga ampingan,
Mga kasakit kong alid.an  ug pagpangga ug paghigugma,


Maong ako nga tubig intawn pagapilia.
Tubig man ko para kanila,
Labaw pa ni sa soft drinks ang katam.is kung mahigugma.

Unta inday kong shiela pilia
Kining
Tubig ko nga paghigugma
10.21.20 2am
#Ilove you so much my Nimel Broñola(Miano)
Anton Feb 2020
kay naipamulong mo naman,
nga ang atong gugma hantud dinhi nalang gyud taman,
ug diri na gyud siguro mahuman,
pastilan pag-kailara nako sa imong "gugmang walay katapusan",

Usahay magkatawa ko nga ako ra usa,
Maghinumdom samga saad mo nga ikaw ug ako ra,
hangtud sa katapusan ug wala na gyud lain pa,
apan karun asa naman tika pangitaa?

nganung ania napod ko karun nag inusara,
sa matag gabii magahilak,
nga daw bata nga bag.ong anak,
pero wala kay madungog nga kasaba,
tungod kay ng kining kasing kasing ang gahilak,

dapat nalang gyud nakong dawaton ang kamatooran,
nga dili gyud kita ang ginapili nga magdayon ug mag uban,
hangtud sa katapusan,
sakit nga pamation ug pamaladungon,
nga ato lang gisayangan ang mga hinaguan



dili ba nga ikaw bisan unsay mahitabo
dili man gyud unta kita dapat nga magkalagyo
nisaad paka nga muabot gyud lagi kita ug anibersaryo?
dili ba nga ikaw sa ginoo akoa man nga gipangayo
pero karun nganung ang pagbiya na kanako mao naman ang imohang hangyo,
nagtuo pa ako nga ang gugma nimo kanako bulontaryo ug dili lang diliryo,


mga gibati ko karun ga sagul sagol, adunay kalipay ,
kasakit ug naapoy kaguol,,
pero bisan kausa wala ako gabagulbol ug gabasol,
siguro sakto na ang gamay nga higayon na ikaw sa kinabuhi ko nagpaduol,

buhian ko naba ang tanan natong gihuptan?  
kalimtan naba tika ug dili na gyud  hisgutan?  
dawaton nalang ba nako nga kanimo dili gyud ko angayan?
imo naba akong biyaan tungod lang kay naa ako'y apan?
o naana bakay lain napili ug imoha nako nga ilisdan?

magkita nalang siguro ug balik didto na sa ikaduhang kalibutan,
isaad ko nga dili ug dili tika hikalimtan
didto sa ikaduhang kalibutan ikaw akoa nga atangan.
kay didto ang gugma nato wala nay katapusan
Now when Dawn in robe of saffron was hasting from the streams of
Oceanus, to bring light to mortals and immortals, Thetis reached the
ships with the armour that the god had given her. She found her son
fallen about the body of Patroclus and weeping bitterly. Many also
of his followers were weeping round him, but when the goddess came
among them she clasped his hand in her own, saying, “My son, grieve as
we may we must let this man lie, for it is by heaven’s will that he
has fallen; now, therefore, accept from Vulcan this rich and goodly
armour, which no man has ever yet borne upon his shoulders.”
  As she spoke she set the armour before Achilles, and it rang out
bravely as she did so. The Myrmidons were struck with awe, and none
dared look full at it, for they were afraid; but Achilles was roused
to still greater fury, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light, for
he was glad when he handled the splendid present which the god had
made him. Then, as soon as he had satisfied himself with looking at
it, he said to his mother, “Mother, the god has given me armour,
meet handiwork for an immortal and such as no living could have
fashioned; I will now arm, but I much fear that flies will settle upon
the son of Menoetius and breed worms about his wounds, so that his
body, now he is dead, will be disfigured and the flesh will rot.”
  Silver-footed Thetis answered, “My son, be not disquieted about this
matter. I will find means to protect him from the swarms of noisome
flies that prey on the bodies of men who have been killed in battle.
He may lie for a whole year, and his flesh shall still be as sound
as ever, or even sounder. Call, therefore, the Achaean heroes in
assembly; unsay your anger against Agamemnon; arm at once, and fight
with might and main.”
  As she spoke she put strength and courage into his heart, and she
then dropped ambrosia and red nectar into the wounds of Patroclus,
that his body might suffer no change.
  Then Achilles went out upon the seashore, and with a loud cry called
on the Achaean heroes. On this even those who as yet had stayed always
at the ships, the pilots and helmsmen, and even the stewards who
were about the ships and served out rations, all came to the place
of assembly because Achilles had shown himself after having held aloof
so long from fighting. Two sons of Mars, Ulysses and the son of
Tydeus, came limping, for their wounds still pained them; nevertheless
they came, and took their seats in the front row of the assembly. Last
of all came Agamemnon, king of men, he too wounded, for **** son of
Antenor had struck him with a spear in battle.
  When the Achaeans were got together Achilles rose and said, “Son
of Atreus, surely it would have been better alike for both you and me,
when we two were in such high anger about Briseis, surely it would
have been better, had Diana’s arrow slain her at the ships on the
day when I took her after having sacked Lyrnessus. For so, many an
Achaean the less would have bitten dust before the foe in the days
of my anger. It has been well for Hector and the Trojans, but the
Achaeans will long indeed remember our quarrel. Now, however, let it
be, for it is over. If we have been angry, necessity has schooled
our anger. I put it from me: I dare not nurse it for ever;
therefore, bid the Achaeans arm forthwith that I may go out against
the Trojans, and learn whether they will be in a mind to sleep by
the ships or no. Glad, I ween, will he be to rest his knees who may
fly my spear when I wield it.”
  Thus did he speak, and the Achaeans rejoiced in that he had put away
his anger.
  Then Agamemnon spoke, rising in his place, and not going into the
middle of the assembly. “Danaan heroes,” said he, “servants of Mars,
it is well to listen when a man stands up to speak, and it is not
seemly to interrupt him, or it will go hard even with a practised
speaker. Who can either hear or speak in an uproar? Even the finest
orator will be disconcerted by it. I will expound to the son of
Peleus, and do you other Achaeans heed me and mark me well. Often have
the Achaeans spoken to me of this matter and upbraided me, but it
was not I that did it: Jove, and Fate, and Erinys that walks in
darkness struck me mad when we were assembled on the day that I took
from Achilles the meed that had been awarded to him. What could I
do? All things are in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of
Jove’s daughters, shuts men’s eyes to their destruction. She walks
delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men
to make them stumble or to ensnare them.
  “Time was when she fooled Jove himself, who they say is greatest
whether of gods or men; for Juno, woman though she was, beguiled him
on the day when Alcmena was to bring forth mighty Hercules in the fair
city of Thebes. He told it out among the gods saying, ‘Hear me all
gods and goddesses, that I may speak even as I am minded; this day
shall an Ilithuia, helper of women who are in labour, bring a man
child into the world who shall be lord over all that dwell about him
who are of my blood and lineage.’ Then said Juno all crafty and full
of guile, ‘You will play false, and will not hold to your word.
Swear me, O Olympian, swear me a great oath, that he who shall this
day fall between the feet of a woman, shall be lord over all that
dwell about him who are of your blood and lineage.’
  “Thus she spoke, and Jove suspected her not, but swore the great
oath, to his much ruing thereafter. For Juno darted down from the high
summit of Olympus, and went in haste to Achaean Argos where she knew
that the noble wife of Sthenelus son of Perseus then was. She being
with child and in her seventh month, Juno brought the child to birth
though there was a month still wanting, but she stayed the offspring
of Alcmena, and kept back the Ilithuiae. Then she went to tell Jove
the son of Saturn, and said, ‘Father Jove, lord of the lightning—I
have a word for your ear. There is a fine child born this day,
Eurystheus, son to Sthenelus the son of Perseus; he is of your
lineage; it is well, therefore, that he should reign over the
Argives.’
  “On this Jove was stung to the very quick, and in his rage he caught
Folly by the hair, and swore a great oath that never should she
again invade starry heaven and Olympus, for she was the bane of all.
Then he whirled her round with a twist of his hand, and flung her down
from heaven so that she fell on to the fields of mortal men; and he
was ever angry with her when he saw his son groaning under the cruel
labours that Eurystheus laid upon him. Even so did I grieve when
mighty Hector was killing the Argives at their ships, and all the time
I kept thinking of Folly who had so baned me. I was blind, and Jove
robbed me of my reason; I will now make atonement, and will add much
treasure by way of amends. Go, therefore, into battle, you and your
people with you. I will give you all that Ulysses offered you
yesterday in your tents: or if it so please you, wait, though you
would fain fight at once, and my squires shall bring the gifts from my
ship, that you may see whether what I give you is enough.”
  And Achilles answered, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, you
can give such gifts as you think proper, or you can withhold them:
it is in your own hands. Let us now set battle in array; it is not
well to tarry talking about trifles, for there is a deed which is as
yet to do. Achilles shall again be seen fighting among the foremost,
and laying low the ranks of the Trojans: bear this in mind each one of
you when he is fighting.”
  Then Ulysses said, “Achilles, godlike and brave, send not the
Achaeans thus against Ilius to fight the Trojans fasting, for the
battle will be no brief one, when it is once begun, and heaven has
filled both sides with fury; bid them first take food both bread and
wine by the ships, for in this there is strength and stay. No man
can do battle the livelong day to the going down of the sun if he is
without food; however much he may want to fight his strength will fail
him before he knows it; hunger and thirst will find him out, and his
limbs will grow weary under him. But a man can fight all day if he
is full fed with meat and wine; his heart beats high, and his strength
will stay till he has routed all his foes; therefore, send the
people away and bid them prepare their meal; King Agamemnon will bring
out the gifts in presence of the assembly, that all may see them and
you may be satisfied. Moreover let him swear an oath before the
Argives that he has never gone up into the couch of Briseis, nor
been with her after the manner of men and women; and do you, too, show
yourself of a gracious mind; let Agamemnon entertain you in his
tents with a feast of reconciliation, that so you may have had your
dues in full. As for you, son of Atreus, treat people more righteously
in future; it is no disgrace even to a king that he should make amends
if he was wrong in the first instance.”
  And King Agamemnon answered, “Son of Laertes, your words please me
well, for throughout you have spoken wisely. I will swear as you would
have me do; I do so of my own free will, neither shall I take the name
of heaven in vain. Let, then, Achilles wait, though he would fain
fight at once, and do you others wait also, till the gifts come from
my tent and we ratify the oath with sacrifice. Thus, then, do I charge
you: take some noble young Achaeans with you, and bring from my
tents the gifts that I promised yesterday to Achilles, and bring the
women also; furthermore let Talthybius find me a boar from those
that are with the host, and make it ready for sacrifice to Jove and to
the sun.”
  Then said Achilles, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, see to
these matters at some other season, when there is breathing time and
when I am calmer. Would you have men eat while the bodies of those
whom Hector son of Priam slew are still lying mangled upon the
plain? Let the sons of the Achaeans, say I, fight fasting and
without food, till we have avenged them; afterwards at the going
down of the sun let them eat their fill. As for me, Patroclus is lying
dead in my tent, all hacked and hewn, with his feet to the door, and
his comrades are mourning round him. Therefore I can take thought of
nothing save only slaughter and blood and the rattle in the throat
of the dying.”
  Ulysses answered, “Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest of all the
Achaeans, in battle you are better than I, and that more than a
little, but in counsel I am much before you, for I am older and of
greater knowledge. Therefore be patient under my words. Fighting is
a thing of which men soon surfeit, and when Jove, who is wars steward,
weighs the upshot, it may well prove that the straw which our
sickles have reaped is far heavier than the grain. It may not be
that the Achaeans should mourn the dead with their bellies; day by day
men fall thick and threefold continually; when should we have
respite from our sorrow? Let us mourn our dead for a day and bury them
out of sight and mind, but let those of us who are left eat and
drink that we may arm and fight our foes more fiercely. In that hour
let no man hold back, waiting for a second summons; such summons shall
bode ill for him who is found lagging behind at our ships; let us
rather sally as one man and loose the fury of war upon the Trojans.”
  When he had thus spoken he took with him the sons of Nestor, with
Meges son of Phyleus, Thoas, Meriones, Lycomedes son of Creontes,
and Melanippus, and went to the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus. The
word was not sooner said than the deed was done: they brought out
the seven tripods which Agamemnon had promised, with the twenty
metal cauldrons and the twelve horses; they also brought the women
skilled in useful arts, seven in number, with Briseis, which made
eight. Ulysses weighed out the ten talents of gold and then led the
way back, while the young Achaeans brought the rest of the gifts,
and laid them in the middle of the assembly.
  Agamemnon then rose, and Talthybius whose voice was like that of a
god came to him with the boar. The son of Atreus drew the knife
which he wore by the scabbard of his mighty sword, and began by
cutting off some bristles from the boar, lifting up his hands in
prayer as he did so. The other Achaeans sat where they were all silent
and orderly to hear the king, and Agamemnon looked into the vault of
heaven and prayed saying, “I call Jove the first and mightiest of
all gods to witness, I call also Earth and Sun and the Erinyes who
dwell below and take vengeance on him who shall swear falsely, that
I have laid no hand upon the girl Briseis, neither to take her to my
bed nor otherwise, but that she has remained in my tents inviolate. If
I swear falsely may heaven visit me with all the penalties which it
metes out to those who perjure themselves.”
  He cut the boar’s throat as he spoke, whereon Talthybius whirled
it round his head, and flung it into the wide sea to feed the
fishes. Then Achilles also rose and said to the Argives, “Father Jove,
of a truth you blind men’s eyes and bane them. The son of Atreus had
not else stirred me to so fierce an anger, nor so stubbornly taken
Briseis from me against my will. Surely Jove must have counselled
the destruction of many an Argive. Go, now, and take your food that we
may begin fighting.”
  On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own
ship. The Myrmidons attended to the presents and took them away to the
ship of Achilles. They placed them in his tents, while the
stable-men drove the horses in among the others.
  Briseis, fair as Venus, when she saw the mangled body of
Patroclus, flung herself upon it and cried aloud, tearing her
breast, her neck, and her lovely face with both her hands. Beautiful
as a goddess she wept and said, “Patroclus, dearest friend, when I
went hence I left you living; I return, O prince, to find you dead;
thus do fresh sorrows multiply upon me one after the other. I saw
him to whom my father and mother married me, cut down before our city,
and my three own dear brothers perished with him on the self-same day;
but you, Patroclus, even when Achilles slew my husband and sacked
the city of noble Mynes, told me that I was not to weep, for you
said you would make Achilles marry me, and take me back with him to
Phthia, we should have a wedding feast among the Myrmidons. You were
always kind to me and I shall never cease to grieve for you.”
  She wept as she spoke, and the women joined in her lament-making
as though their tears were for Patroclus, but in truth each was
weeping for her own sorrows. The elders of the Achaeans gathered round
Achilles and prayed him to take food, but he groaned and would not
do so. “I pray you,” said he, “if any comrade will hear me, bid me
neither eat nor drink, for I am in great heaviness, and will stay
fasting even to the going down of the sun.”
  On this he sent the other princes away, save only the two sons of
Atreus and Ulysses, Nestor, Idomeneus, and the knight Phoenix, who
stayed behind and tried to comfort him in the bitterness of his
sorrow: but he would not be comforted till he should have flung
himself into the jaws of battle, and he fetched sigh on sigh, thinking
ever of Patroclus. Then he said-
  “Hapless and dearest comrade, you it was who would get a good dinner
ready for me at once and without delay when the Achaeans were
hasting to fight the Trojans; now, therefore, though I have meat and
drink in my tents, yet will I fast for sorrow. Grief greater than this
I could not know, not even though I were to hear of the death of my
father, who is now in Phthia weeping for the loss of me his son, who
am here fighting the Trojans in a strange land for the accursed sake
of Helen, nor yet though I should hear that my son is no more—he
who is being brought up in Scyros—if indeed Neoptolemus is still
living. Till now I made sure that I alone was to fall here at Troy
away from Argos, while you were to return to Phthia, bring back my son
with you in your own ship, and show him all my property, my
bondsmen, and the greatness of my house—for Peleus must surely be
either dead, or
Birdy Thyne Oct 2012
There is a period of time
Immediately proceeding a conversation you had
Where you shared, what you are sure in retrospect,
Was too much

And when they go its nearly silent
Aside from the car engine
Your ears are on fire
On one hand you’re glad you said it
On the other hand
You wish to rewind
And unsay the things you did.
Reverse and greedily fill your arms with all the
Pieces of yourself you’d given away freely.
They’re yours and they don’t own them.
But like a dusty collection of spoons,
From all fifty states,
You know that you have no use
Harboring those thoughts.

Maybe they will somehow affect that person
And help them when they’re feeling down
But you doubt it.
They won’t fully understand,
Because you’re a bad story teller
Who can’t describe the feeling of the sun
On the tops of your legs and interpolated
Between your toes.
And you're selfish and don’t care
You feel incomplete now and hope
That maybe, just maybe
They weren’t even listening to you ramble
Or couldn’t understand you
Or cast the little wads of memories away
Like pencil shavings
Which are fun for a little under an hour.

And you’ve almost convinced yourself
Until you see them, and they see you
And open their mouth to say something-
And like some horror movie
The secrets come swarming.
You no longer cross my mind
I burned that bridge.
You took the wrong hand
and left.
This time my tears became mathematical, as I watched you walk away they drew 11 on my cheeks.
I knew this time you weren't coming back so like dividing a 7 with 3, I remained here.
Thinking about you, thinking about us
Thinking about that last day you came into my room and we ****** i mean it felt so real
I miss U
like I am reciting alphabets and skipped the 21th letter.
I miss you
What 4?
Like I was counting 1 2 3 5 and forgot a numeral.
May my feelings for you Rest In Peace, like our relationship was a funeral.

You were my Hat I couldn't get you off my head,
but now the sun is set, I don't need sun rays protection.
Like a lawyer can I make an objection,
You used to be my babe
now you're my 24th alphabet
X.
Like excuse me, did I date you? What was I thinking
Like Ex Curse you, I Hat you now get off my head.
I gave you my heart but you took my soul too,
Satan.
I gave you my Hut but you thought you were so High Class so You couldn't Stay.
I called you Rihanna, but you didn't Stay.
Just because I begged you not to leave, you thought I was a street kid
so like choosing not to go to the right direction you left me Standing there on the streets.

Now like a comrade who went exile can you please comeback and UNSAY you love
Comeback and UNHUG me
Comeback and UNKISS me
Comeback and UNLAY next to me on this bed
UNLAUGH at my jokes.
UNSMILE at me.
I want you to UNREAD that letter I wrote you
Comeback I want to UNTOUCH you
and UNMAKE love to you.


Unlove Me.
Cné Oct 2017
how the years go sailing past! they go by in a blink!
one day i pause and grasp the thought, t'is later than i think.

i bury friends and family and start to realize,
i’m mortal after all, my friend ... and everybody dies.

i take an inventory of life's sorrows and it's joys
rememb'ring most the happy times and all my little "toys"

i think of goals accomplished and my failures just as well.
i think of things i can't unsay and doubts i cannot quell.

mortality, that bane of man, seems but another's fate
and miss my own life's pageantry, with naught but empty plate.

how strange my life should end one day.  the final scene must play.
i take each breath for granted and don't cherish every day.

so... "happy birthday to myself!
i’m fifty-two anon !
what happened to my days of youth!?  i missed them.  now they're gone!
'The beggar boy is none of mine,'
The reverend doctor strangely said;
'I do not walk the streets to pour
Chance benedictions on his head.

'And heaven I thank who made me so.
That toying with my own dear child,
I think not on his shivering limbs,
His manners vagabond and wild.'

Good friend, unsay that graceless word!
I am a mother crowned with joy,
And yet I feel a ***** pang
To pass the little starveling boy.

His aching flesh, his fevered eyes
His piteous stomach, craving meat;
His features, nipt of tenderness,
And most, his little frozen feet.

Oft, by my fireside's ruddy glow,
I think, how in some noisome den,
Bred up with curses and with blows,
He lives unblest of gods or men.

I cannot ****** him from his fate,
The tribute of my doubting mind
Drops, torch-like, in the abyss of ill,
That skirts the ways of humankind.

But, as my heart's desire would leap
To help him, recognized of none,
I thank the God who left him this,
For many a precious right foregone.

My mother, whom I scarcely knew,
Bequeathed this bond of love to me;
The heart parental thrills for all
The children of humanity.
I

Under the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd.
A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown
About the sky; where that is clear of cloud
Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down;
What shudders run through all that animal blood?
What is this sacrifice? Can someone there
Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star?

Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through,
A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang
A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow;
A woman, and an arrow on a string;
A pierced boy, image of a star laid low.
That woman, the Great Mother imaging,
Cut out his heart.  Some master of design
Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin.

An age is the reversal of an age:
When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone,
We lived like men that watch a painted stage.
What matter for the scene, the scene once gone:
It had not touched our lives.  But popular rage,
Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down.
None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part
Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart.

Come, fix upon me that accusing eye.
I thirst for accusation.  All that was sung.
All that was said in Ireland is a lie
Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng,
Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die.
Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong
To this bare soul, let all men judge that can
Whether it be an animal or a man.

                II

The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay.
Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart
No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day.
No civil rancour torn the land apart.

Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's
Imagination had been satisfied,
Or lacking that, government in such hands.
O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died.

Had even O'Duffy--but I name no more--
Their school a crowd, his master solitude;
Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there
plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
Arke Nov 2018
I wish I could take your pain away
plant a garden of sunflowers someday
whisper I love you and that I'll stay
read to you while beside me, you lay
but day after day
I see the way you fray
how her words shatter and slay
but for some reason, you stay
at her whim, you obey
I felt your heart once stray
but you continued to delay
the inevitable, you downplayed
your unhappiness and dismay
I wish I could take back and unsay
the time I called 'us' a foolish cliché,
the smoke filled night at the cabaret
how late the dusk crept on the day-
we laid under stars in the milky way
talked about feelings and our soirée
your touch on my skin, like foreplay
looking back, you were my gateway
but for you, I was just another weekday
...and we both knew you'd never stay
Daniello Mar 2012
I ask—I know,

but did I? pull you close only
only
to keep from flying away?

I once knew I cupped your head,
like water, to my lips.

I think I know now, hauntingly,
I might have wrenched your face to mine
like a ravenous and terrified animal
and kept on your lips but to seal my mouth,
a stormy vacuum,
that ****** ceaselessly the breath of too much
                  in the attempt to inhale one.

****** dry, it became nothing.

Still, it could not be helped.
Meaning would be given to the thoughtless
and its name—passion—would be answered,
its sweet breath ****** on.
But I
I never breathed anything.
And yet there was more sustaining my life.
What sweet did I taste? Its breath or
the more?

You would rename it—silly—to yourself.
You did not know you whispered it to me always.
I only heard it when our cover would
slit briefly open—painfully, and inevitably.
Your breath in these thin moments was bitter, bitter
to you too.
So we covered the slits and sealed the gape,
told ourselves we knew
all the clothes were off, together, for a reason.
Convinced ourselves we were really touching what was untouchable,
for a reason.

But, if since the very beginning
your mouth was to move that way,
was to say those words—and if your eyes were always
going to look like autumn trees and unsay them—
was it for one or wasn’t it?
Is there something at all to smile about
just passing through our geometry?

I ask this to myself—of course. But,
but
today’s sun blades the sky too much like yesterday’s!
So your eyes return! They return to reach! to pull me out to free fields
as they used to.
Your sundress still sparks an Aztec flame
as the colorless crowd ashes.
To me your scene is still an answer
and your breath can still warm truth
as sweet as tragedy on my skin.

The lining of homes around me
glints light red
and I stare at its light, after you,
your cutting rays,

because your thought of ending
now kisses mine
and so—still—I can answer

whether, as I am now— you were always
only a memory.
M Dec 2015
I don't unwrite words from my pen, my skin, or my heart
nor will I ever unsay something I once said
sometimes I think maybe I should, but I don't
partly because I can't and partly because
I am who I was and who I am now, together
and I will not unwrite poems that breathed
"I love you" out of my soul, I will also not unsay
all the "*******'s" that flew out of my lips
driving alone in my car. I will not take back
those words. They are mine as much as any words.
If anything, more. I have been thinking a lot about
privacy: when something is too special to write about
when a moment should be kept to myself. And I've
worked on keeping more things to myself. It doesn't
mean they don't exist. It doesn't mean they aren't real.
If anything, it means that now, I am more real.
I have more of me to myself now. Less of me has been
pirated, parodied, and talked about- I belong to God
who sees all and knows all, and to myself, who bears witness
to words I've spoken in folly and words I've concealed in folly.
I can't guarantee I'll be perfect or always happy
or never **** up again. I can't hardly promise anything.
All I know is that I'm growing up, and Friday night
means books and songs and baths and studying, and I feel
sadder, yes, and also happier, in deeper ways,
I don't quite know who I am and I feel rather lost but
as one grows lost, one finds themselves, and I hope that
it happens for me. After all, I'm turning seventeen soon.
Vernarth was ready at the threshold of the validity of the constellation of Orion, barely a hundred millionths as indicated by the Duoverse in his Cosmogonic amphiboly, and sensitive to physical space with the Kli vessels that he carried on his back that were in the proximity of the Loop of Bernard as the Omission nebula as the exponential hemicycle in the center of Aurion's oculus waiting for Vernarth and redistribute its molecules at 518 light-years or 440 Parsec, with the diameter that will be reflected in Patmos of more than 300 light-years condensed with the element of Hydor or water from high space over Aurion. Vernarth, united by the fragrant hand of the Mashiach, could carry it when he moved away from the Opistodomos and the remains of incandescent lagoons of supernova materials that surrounded them to accelerate the mass of the Iridescent Nimbus that Vernarth would carry, and the Mashiach as a sentinel of his Purgation. already defined whenever the simultaneous explosion of the Super Nova with Patmos becomes effective, and the Terrestrial World in impulsiveness that admonished him under the right shoulder blade in the skinny hollow of the arm that was getting rid of the oscillometer right at the original entrance of Betelgeuse, and when Vernarth remained alone in the frontal altitude chamber to take off towards the cosmogonies of Eridanus to tune into the Ptolemaic astral. The Sybilla who acted as stellar consort would be Herophile with overtones of expansion and her brilliant metric mass that would take her through Betelgeuse Orionis allied to a multifunctional instrument such as the entrance Aulos, expelling hydrogen-like an Ace in 240 harmonic scales, and sounds of light that they boomed towards the Pleiades and the Milky Way where it would be the supposed first state of paradox where Vernarth would utter: "Give me a little Gála and I will be more than Zeus". This is where he will experience the diarthrosis of his synovial joints in the process of Hyaline cartilage, allying himself with the two bones and synovium to hunt down the Trapper Aurion in advance to wake up from the feared defenseless world that he feared since everything he abandoned despite having his Purg discharged, he kept sensing that if nothing would work for a lost world. Here Vernarth would hold Alexander the Great's first childhood vision as an infant at Péla using his scapula with the force of rubbing discs at the Olympiad making the sky his Odyssey-encrusted Constellation of whips, and sullen Hellenistic being by May in the amber trunk trapezoid and in each hand a Xiphos and Dorus.

The pathologies were at the forefront with dexterous inclinations of his Kopis to the west when he throws it and the whistle of return makes him see that the meteorites reached as far as his gaze could observe the latitudes of the Tyrrhenian. He takes his bronze-brass cudgel with the corrosive breath, filing the odysseys on the concupiscent ******* of Eos, Goddess of the dawn, opening the heavens of the eager natives of Gála, by sipping raw milk from the right edge of the corner of her upper lips before the first dawns of the world, when Eos would be in grains or grasses that brandished from the bronze club that Vernarth waited for before leaving Gaia, or rather the fertile land of Patmos that officiated at him. Mega hectares appeared that threatened Enopion's revenge, disturbing his eyes that shone in Hesiod's striae by advocating for him in the Duoverse where all deities would be annulled but his psychic ramifications as stellar humans would be covered by the action of Helium gas. In this way Vernarth was already bidding farewell to Saint John the Apostle with his rounded eye set on the shine of both pupils between Mintaka, Alnitak, and the third shine of his pupils united in communion with Vernarth when arriving sideways at the pale shine of Alnilam (The Three Mariah) fourth star to follow in Orion as the brightest of the three on Vernarth's neck like a necklace of precious pearls. In this way, he climbed the steps to measure the slow brilliance of the immensity of the celestial solstice that raised him with the expedient Sun that also led him towards the twelfth lunation of the celestial vault attached to Pléyone in his bolometric oceanic matrix, which will arise between the stellar limitrophe between the Canes Mayores and Menores, and a priori in the measurement of the eye of Aurion always harassing the Pleiades. The intrigue will be reborn for the second time from the Duoverse's momentum that Vernarth will have to leave in the biosphere oscillation wasteland of Prometheus already freeing himself from life in community, and from an extreme sensitivity of major psychic connections that will flow throughout the immensity of inaccessible time. , on the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of the oxen that urinate on the endowments of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles as flagrant Amphibology. The Kanti Steed and the Aorion nebula to the beat of a waltz will ionize chemical portents of ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse to propagate in the nerves of the shoulders of the bronze club ad limit of harmonious praxis, and net compromise by supplying steps to the nebula and art of the Duoverse that shows the primeval daily days as in his alchemical armband, germinating astral Lynothorax and axillary armpit that held him in his maximum club, cutting down roots of Olivo Bernar after Barnard's Loops in between of fugitive stars that go regimented in their ionized bleeding esplanade, like Stellae Novae that transfers astronomical cults in the formation and pretext of going through the darkness to sleep near his parents Poseidon and Euryale, acclaiming him near the gramineous fields to paste him with explosive clay on the portfolio of such a smiling face drunk with Ionian wine, in precedence of the disemi nar by the new and expandable Duoverso, Vernarth was already on the last steps of the stairs similar to that of Florence in the Medicea Laurenziana as well said to feel alive when going to paradise next to the Messiah who came to pick him up. But at times electrifying residues would vanish over his field of vision in small beams or flashes, which would prevent him from moving forward to the last stirrups without looking back where all the Birthright was watching him for one last time.

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, Zefian was waiting for him to meet him in his dark chamber, since the most intimate and primordial causality of his metaphysics emerged from the bases of the reason for all things that should exist, before everything was created and that it has never had pre-eminence as it is in this case of the parasitic chamber of Zefian in the company of the Auriga, which also came to wait for him in the calash running wild as prescribed by the Duoverse in the structures of luminosity in the midst of this colossal inter-planetary chamber, between molecular agitated points that will venture through the axon of infinity longitudinally unpredictable for light-years even though it is so. The thermal outcomes of superheated remnants over the entire luminosity will speak of the catastrophe, and of the inherent emptiness in the eyes of the eternal hothouse very close to the supernovae that can only strengthen the fusion of the space disks of the Universe-Duoverse long before the explosion between Orion and Andromeda. The axes of time will be dislocated between both astral components in this dissonant chaos that will contract with Vernarth's levitation whenever he has stepped on the last step before entering the Hydor chamber in every dark portion of the Universe, making both constellations the ferrule or ring that will yield to the underbelly of Betelgeuse, dispossessing the boasts of the appropriate Commander Hetairoi of his Lynothorax to resist the ravages and turbulence of the Apokálypsis, which brought the immense loads of matter that discharged all its constant energy through the circulating nuclear power plants, and tangents that caused galaxy changes pierced by Hetairoi Aorion clods satirizing expenses for retracting the galaxies below Soldier's precept and super homeostatic mass attracted from their distance on astronomical scales of 2.5 million light-years.

The galactogenic galaxy made use of great prominences that would cover the greater proportional that is outlined in Andromeda of the strands of the Universe adjacent to the spiral that rolls on the underbelly, deferring to telescope sections, and the gravitational field to execute its nocturnal translation like the Hyperdisis Galaxy that collects the bubbling of the belt in conjunctions of minor stars making star mechanics by exaltation, and magnetic disorders creating other leading atmospheres in those detached from the cord of Andromeda, the Milky Way, and Orion. Vernarth was still holding on to the transparent hand of the Messiah while he was climbing the ascension steps to Hydor that would transport him to travel with him through the globular clusters, they will form the perfect delay in transfusing the lineage and not another, in this way the Lynothorax or bleeding pectoral de Vernarth continued to flow from this polynomial tractatum between all area subjugation guidelines, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the inter-galactic reversible staked Duoverse.

Lenticular to irregular above the nails of the trapezoid, it spread towards Aurion's right armband, sequentially making the centric radiogram hiccup, despite taking advantage of interstellar matter to self-generate its own transmission light, this made it refrain from emanating the hybridity that came out of its body by vibrating above everything that expelled from its center towards the right rectitude of Orion, thus making the multiplied speed of containing itself of both parts of the null hemisphere of its free will when verifying that it never existed, that it was only an illusion of doubtful matter that would soon Go away like gasified water on the galactic repulsions that would settle on Patmos as devotions of Skalá, and Astro-omegas that would be adhered to the Xiphos and Kopis, who were still united to their being rather in the contour of the perimeter of his soul two meters floating like invisible quantum universes. The totality of everything was inciting the fields of omega-stars that would begin to advance after becoming visible from the spur of the sword that became denser with the viscosity of the Hebrew Adom, which trickled from Orion to Hellenic lands as an Omega age for Vernarth which is conceived early when it carries Hecate's Kleidia or keys to the Omega world towards the proto-galaxies that provide ultramarine loaves, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass that they can collide in a few million light-years. The Duoverse of Hyperdisis was predicted in the visual reality of a fusion of change to interact with each other as it dismembered but re-transformed into the new theoretical core of the Duoverse as a large Black Hole embedded in the center of Patmos. In such a way all the inhabitants began to worry when phenomenal masses of warm air that began to take on the appearance of the Universe plagiarized each other generating incoming earthquakes, not affecting the Opistodomos or the Primogeniture, nor the crowd that was waiting. of all the monstrosity of monks who were grouped kneeling on the top of the Profitis, floating the shattered shaggy skein parts of the Himation. As it was dyed in the albi-color of Calígine, demonstrating the darkness of the intrinsic terror of whoever plows later to free all the succumbed who fell throughout Greece and Judah, exposing all the origins of appearance from the internal now in the converted Universe that was reimplanting itself in the helical of polarity, and bifurcating by pretexting all the reincarnations and polishing the stagnant cessation of darkness towards a luminance that could warn them and observe where their feet could move, sheltered from the monumental litter of calorimetry, and chromatics that was linked in romances trivial with the residuals of the angel shark galaxies where Aurion's progenies will deliver in candelas per square meter: LV waking is the luminance, measured in Nits or candelas per square meter (cd/m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, the Milky Way, and Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion. From here Vernarth will supply all of them as the one who will dwell in it in the preface of his Fables of Calígine with the following: "Ex Calígine Chaos: ex Chao et Calígine, Nox, Dies, Erebus, Aether", which transliterated means "Of Darkness: Chaos. From Chaos and Darkness: Night, Day, Erebus, and Ether", Decreeing the (Burning Darkness) before Chaos as flow F, is he also the only one who divinized this abstraction, conferring a proper meaning to the word. And then make of the normality of dwelling in the darkness that is the irrevocable opulence of the desire to maintain the radiance of all the forces that devour eternity. From the remote aces came dark families of flying Lepidoptera Ditrisios, lined up with countless other species that carried dimensional eyes that will be devoured by ocelli or giant eyes that come from the chaos of Vernarth's Caligine to appease the effects of ultraviolet rays, which started from the Nimbus Iridescent creating a layer of protection between the new dimension of the twilight of flight that was already beginning to ignite from the Aurion's scaly fingers.

• dS is the surface element considered the triad Kímolos, Rodas and Patmos. While Vernarth is distracted, he manages to dissipate the twilight of the inverted Erebus between Eleos and Ezis, personifying Clemency and Sadness, where they border the worlds that are not yet riddled with chaos or Calígine, who exalted himself over Erebos with the redemption of Eleos, who was getting ready to swallow the sadness of Ezis. Therefore Kimolos, Rhodes, and Patmos will consolidate their hegemony of unalterable lands where Eleos' piece of clemency will bring the support that makes Ezis's faceless portent, close to the hybridity of the Itheoi gods, in the Transversal Valleys of the Horcondising, with the Norns and generosity of Apollo who had given them after long stays in Hyperborea as female spirits once again as advocacy and imperishable protection of the legacy of Smintheus's travels by providing the company of Dísir, Uror, Verdandi, and Skuld as a female entity, of the past, current and future that should occur by order of Skuld. This will allow the three to unite with the Ds to merge the three as a complement of three female entities that will safeguard all climate change on future disasters in the Dodecanese.

• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse. From this premise, the worst of Vernarth's fears was to let go of the Messiah's hand and fall into the anger that blushes even Hetairoi Hero from Deimos, when the night reverts to the rest of the demons and the night adopts those who go perceiving in Vernarth that perhaps he was holding hands with Ares for the battle alongside his brother Etrestles, under the orders of the savagery of the metaphysical engines of panic. From this vision, Vernarth manages to open his eyes with the desire to show those who were watching him and to be able to show that he was aware of being a prisoner of his emotions and escaping from himself in the illustrious suffering of thousands of arrows, which ran around him like fleeting meteorites to the flat field of Tisiphone's revenge. The luminances became and became colors that were molecularly twinned with disparate tones that were capable of differentiating them, and at the same time nullifying the power of obscuring Vernarth's countenance to take his right hand and take the arrow to break the darkness that was lunged at him.

• θ is the angle between the diameter from Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years), Nemesis or Ramnusia as the retributive coercion of disobedience, being aware Vernarth became more and more of a being adopted by balance Nemesis for balance to command him to his senses before entering the field of limpidity of his soul in transit to liberate himself from all the chained who used to be happy, but sad that no one acclaimed them except Aionius Itheoi of Vernarth who translated the messages that from now on will move diametrically from Andromeda to the Milky Way, without any of these two portions being invaded only under the order of Nemesis, and Vernarth abiding by the retributive justice of The luminance that can be defined from the radiometric magnitude of the radiance without more than weighting each length of the wave by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of Vernarth's eye in the underbelly of Betelgeuse, spilling plasma and magnetic bruises on the galaxies and Eyes of Orion.
Meanwhile, it manifested itself as a personal universe, not excluded from time and space for a metaphysical causality that will not be able to compose the mentality that is measurable in the joint senses of a Zig Zag birth from this same calígine emerging from another creature of self-observation and see the physiognomy of the anti-material and mass Universal Horcondising. From which we pre-exist to waste of science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors with which his life and ours that were propelled furtively. Gravity made great paternity in Vernarth's active Biomass, being in the Dodecanese and cosmos in the verification of curvature that makes us with the moon of its romantic astrophysical swings and exaggerated geometry of a Zigzag.

We are versatile multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the void that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising, and also of time2-space2 that have not been attributed to the origin of the stars that move irregularly in Zig Zag, for their immature componential that is clearly of Aramaic blue light from the Pealim of the Abba, circulating with bullets movements skimming the air of the grasses attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe, making appear before them the duplication of the universe itself; in Duoverse, which is the recently shaken Universe and of gratitude in the distribution of nearby galaxies that are keys to the paleo kosmous already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Tri-solated energy fields, which interact with the phylogeny of the Mashiach in Gethsemane, lying now in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific to the peri Kosmous. Its final station is to wager the Zig Zag Universe on the temporal middle Ages chrestomathies re-expanding in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangels to activate. The implosion of gravity has procreated worlds of visibility of magnanimous astronomical longings, in some fractions of time in Zig Zag by millions of fractioned light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measure of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not acquiring the hexagonal of the primogeniture of the fragment since Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism whose Original is attributed fractal in form.

The personification of longevity was trapped by Geras, always escaping from the obfuscated universe or temperament that could be represented in humanity that relied on the antigens that served as support for the reversibility of every hero like Vernarth, who tried to glorify himself in the fullness of life in Heraklion or in the sand that was dyed red-azure when the soul of Alexander the Great would rise together with Vernarth with the Mashiach. The fractal beating line of the Mediterranean towards a vein resembling the rhinestones of King David to the Ziziphus of the Messiah simulating to be irregular symmetrical formats, to build gems in thorns of landscapes that basically subdivide into similar conical funnels, to then be randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's five o'clock Incorruptible crown, recursively reiterating it in each square until the eminence of the desired detail was reached in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Baptistery of the Shepherds in its hexagonal base, figuring to be the sleet in the final Crown of Rejoicing falling on the top of the roofs "Doroteo or theological gifts" in which the Mashiach's stable of Kafersuseh burst and agonized in the abstraction of the One-Dimensional Beams with foreign eyes, and own tissue eroding to mortal frowns that can be seen with their divine eyes in our own likeness, and of the planet n failed to increase the size so unknown and analytical in this peripeteia of the implosive ideology of the bubbling of the Verthian Duoverse.
The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals detailed in their nature, and in the natural infinity that here was envisioned from the new privileged world for self-similarity in speculative functions of Vertnarth, by intervals in each space of shadowy fences, bringing accelerated courier bulbs from Gethsemane in intermediates of olive trees transformed towards other humans.“Their correlation is infinite with reversible observable time, and paternal belonging to mobile gagged echoes of a space that is obstructed by Vernarth, in such a monograph and integers among the fractional integers "Finite is the curvature between the path that walks through the thickness of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of Zigzag and Duoverse energy, which is unleashed to our subconscious observable orb, and what a great beacon reflecting eye that ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One Dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The Duoverse is the rehearsal Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse Orion, changes of arduous colors in gradient and Avant-Garde, for limits of perspectives and verbally of amendments of physical fields framed by an external gravitational means. The macro waves are exposed to matters not contained in the abrupt changes of the Mashiach optical selection with the One-Dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them in reaction disturbances, and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian astronautics, examining the double of the macro waves and equation of them on the axis of the universe converted into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years, they will continue in the Duoverse, to reconvert from ectoplasm with large margins of assertiveness. Cartography is the error correction of the current universe, getting lost in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time…!, remaining at the expense of the wick of the Cirio with all its electro-matter” Having already established the sub-mythology, Hestia appears after having slept a great dream, when she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika she was seen changing size, when she was six meters away she looked tiny and when she was already two meters away from him It looked monumentally enormous, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in the last steps with its domestic figure of a goddess that emanated light-years disserted by chimneys and its rooms. The critique of immanence that would happen, would pre-exist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of the Vas Auric, which consisted of the great ratio of the proscenium in the Teodora vicinity of Tsambika, between Clairvoyance/Judgment for Wisdom/Meditating constant mechanisms according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called the Triverse. The oscillation of all these fantasies was observed by Vernarth, but he knew that he would have to collide with this finally, already precipitated by temperatures that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate him into the proselytizing provisional Duoverse, which moves backward between the lights vertiginous of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around him, establishing units of millions of years of compressed light from the piccolo Aulós, which Hestia carried in one of his pale hands, his prytaneion was lighting up with the flames of the heart of fire and passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paving the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of farmhouses that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika in search of the Vas Auric, acclaiming with the omphalos stone that marked the navel of the world with defiance wandering to the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face always walking to and from her home unscathed in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones who were staying in the cold fire of her climacteric losing fertility after his father swallowed them, and then they were expelled from himself regurgitated in flaming matches from a blessed house full of indemnity, giving the Duoverse another category calculated with angles never contained vibratingly sliding between distances that discount minutes of Hestian space for such a corollary of approaching to its finitude and inaugurate the sub-finite,  which will never be a source of terminus in a disconcerting end of time not finished flush with the physical equation. “This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is consummated and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinite).

Vernarth was a few meters from entering the Nimbus, when suddenly his soul darkened and his panic flared..., suddenly he felt a scream from above and below he saw how everything was made of rubble. Courage blinded him, not wanting to observe what the evident end of the world and rubble intended to consume him if he said goodbye to his most beloved beings, until the lines of infinity approached those of the earthly world, intending to eliminate all traces of his family lineage. In this way, he begins to run through his hands the reflected Hydor of colors that pierced the skylight of austere words. He manages to see Calígine del Apokálypsis farther from the mist, detached from all gravitational force, only being able to see his mother among the smoke, who was coming up by a ray of light, Vernarth tries to free her from that moment of expiration but does not reach the synchrony of catastrophe in what pretended to be from the hand of Eris as the disagreement that did not allow him to put his survival weapons in order, believing that this instance would not allow him to ****** her from the goddess Eris, if he could believe that it was inevitable that his mother Luccica became a granite coat of arms, after the dark night that threatened to unravel her from her flimsy solid state, and then crumble to the ground turned into the ground that was crushed from roots that postponed it to be consumed by the gift of the light of life, and end of a light that is visible in all the roots of the earth when consumed by the infinite that vanishes in the existence of all being.

Vernarth, when a moment of clarity allows him to see his mother, tries to rescue her, realizing that his father Bernardolipo was with her, between them they would try to redeem them from the spread of Nix and Calígine, who behaved with great pain by mocking the edges of the Ether that they received Crono, they could not be victorious in arriving in time to rescue them, if from the harmony of a troubadour of the Mashiaj he observed him see if he would return with him to enter. They became visible in their parents as they contended before an avoidable awareness of this indivisible event with the aggressor words of hindrances and generations of millennials who anticipated the omega of everything in the lower part, under the feet of their parents appearing insignificant one (w) that precedes and succeeds the beginning of a beginning based on the end of a beginning a thousand times more than a threshold based on hundreds, appropriate to the metric unit of the numeral Myríaz = ten thousand, three times more than the Falangists, one thousand less than the Peltasts and three thousand fewer than the horsemen, total thirty-seven thousand fewer than the fighting forces in Gaugamela out of a total of forty-seven thousand, under the myriads of the Myriaz of Phalangists undermined by their Xiphos in the area of the right calcaneus of each faithful man under his command before facing the Achaemenides. During this period, Vernarth took extreme steps to rescue them and stop the numbing effect of all organic matter, not being able to rescue them, only granting them in the image of each one when they began to turn stone from feet to head until the fragile solidification of their eyes. when for the last time, they looked at each other only making it clear that it was a belated rescue gesture. The omega was ineffable even beyond the omicron, being Omega and Micron in the warfare primer of initiation of its cause within the prophetic in all the necropolis of lowercase omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the raised hand in Saint John the Apostle to rewrite the Apocalypse twice, having to be the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Phalangists that made up the intergenerational gaps, more than mimicked alien ancestors. In such an effect, as is known, the Duoverse opened the skylights with its sheathed pillars and with the strings of tetrachloride of chlorine in solid angles of Ω in what was Virgo institutionum/Aurion, an entity that interfered by projections and leaks that converged in the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing in frequency and bloodless of immortality, consisting of an auxiliary being towards the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With its arms raised in each claw, a sword raised to pierce the vanishing point between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection from an observer that inhibits and limits the biomass in all the aqueous filter pastes and lumens, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus of dissociated physicality, still being an amorphous entity with magnitudes pulverized between numerosities of Pi and Aureos, fading without area or volume.

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “Vernarth, I come from Bethlehem to help your life because I have detected the subsuming of the chains where your parents made the alliance from where your life has been erected from Sudpichi, Transversal Valleys in the temple that bears my pseudonym. The only rune that will determine that your parents can remain united, is through the action and direction that has been consecrated to me. No dead language will unsay what a dead soul cannot interpret. Our Mashiaj has entrusted me to free the languages that have conspired at night, and low luminance where Calígine has been uncomfortable seeing me knowing that it is my favorite environment, the memory of the chains want to incarnate in the stones that surround your parents, but  they are typical of a response that I will get to conclude by urging your mother and father to recognize that here they made the alliances, ordering, and reconciliation of your world that concerns us all in endless dictates to be agreed, I know very well that the point has not of allowing your atonement to have been prevented by this cosmological affront, here are the transverse Valleys in the favorite place of the Spirits lie the treaties that will move my greatest interest to re-marry your parents from the true chains of the complacent scholar, thus all the vastness that afflicts you will belong to your servant Jerome”

Vernarth replies: “At your service, his majesty, here I have been since dawn arriving at the town to meet them when they contracted their marriage. I know I shouldn't be here, rather I know that decades of inquiry had planned it that way. Of such conviction that their chains were anointed from the heights of the Kanthillana whose partiality emits the partials close to your direction? As is known, my very extensive walk through these dusty paths must recognize that the personality and nobility of its burial mounds will strengthen my presence so that everything that is incomprehensible if it is brief by making it neighbor to my reason”

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “everything has been planned like this, and as time drags on I know that your wounds burn in my epistolary like Latin and Greek voices that reluctantly direct me to your aid. Everything is beautifully comparable, and first to what should not be said..., but to do to the genre that above all it practices, the second to one of the ways with the above all that it practices "
By the reverse of the expletive to the insurmountable destiny, Vernarth takes his hands and Saint Jerome withdraws them telling him that it was not time for greater vain for the equivalence of minor desires to please him if he had not appeared before him. It shows him to celebrate him and to want to make of him the permutation of his golden polysemy or interpretation of the world's Apokálypsis by not changing his axis of change, by redirecting them to stated comfort interests. Namely; the leaders of the world in their world of annulled freedom of will to practice following as they please when interpreting the Apokálypsis only as a revelation, and not as a destiny that exalts the senses and compensation that will reconquer the consistency of the nature of the Apokálypsis that adheres to humanity as golden that will consolidate humanity fearful of its own ******* and excess of greed, just as it was just a few steps before entering the Temple of San Jerónimo in Alhué hand in hand with Vernarth already fully healed of his Lynothorax pectoral. They go to the ambo and Saint Jerome essentially takes out of his pockets chaff that was from the escape of the mass of stone that had not yet finally hardened, allowing them to generate a mystical sermon so that their parents return to the nave of the temple in person to surpass farther from the spring of awakening of the Kantillana requesting the unification of the ashes of his father Bernardolipo and Vernarth, to rescue his mother from a poor abundance, and is transposed by the metaphor of the life-giving spirit. Immediately afterward, Saint Jerome pours the chaff of his parents all over the surface, a great noise is produced, the doors and windows of the temple are suddenly closed, and his parents can be seen walking along the central row of the nave, where fiction could testify that everything was a fantasy, rather a great testament that would exhibit the union of two juxtaposed flanks prior to an invaluable crossing of smiles and flowers that fell from the upper altar on their crowns, they came holding their arms like open borders with the procedure before the harsh reality of a metaphor made real in the future of two beloved shepherds who crossed the limbo of their fingers, with the ferrule or the act of engendering rings of family procreation. The crosses of Lisbon and Saint Jerome resembled the monograph in beats of her wealthy feet that were consistent with the nubile gesture of her lips and then released with all frenzy towards the meeting of her beloved Vernarth, the three of them dancing together on the central pinnacle of the obese light that sheltered them, meaning from the testamentary Hebrew the Aleph on the way to Sudpichi after the Raphaca “Healing” ceremony until the diastole that adheres between the middle of the gap that was produced when the three confronted each other and the word “Heth” again He was bent over to take them like gigantic camels to meet his relatives and ghosts that surrounded him when observing the heights of Kanthillana at the assent of all this.

Because of all this similarity, the tribulation from Patmos was raging with very strong resistance, leaving totally clear of the conditionals of the flint or flint, which enveloped the parents, began to fade from their bodies while it was recomposed of seven elemental forms in relation to the transcription and identification of the three as a family trunk enormously of its exegetical possibilities. Tangent to the transcription, and if it is the case identification of the names that we stick to reunion and redemption of their parents, like all anthropology that was chained to the figures and characters that cordoned off the top of the temple when the three met they hugged and held hands as a sign of illustrative demonstrations of never surpassing oneself. Beginning with the compensations in the fullness of the tables, and completion of all the facts that showed that nothing of language escapes what an eye can observe; that is to say, as long as there is a speaking light, it will always be necessary to listen and then observe in the presentation of the mechanics by the lines that expressed the figures, which were increasing the number of letters that were possible to decipher; called stichometry or measurement of the lines in the texts that Saint Jerome that they were ordering to order a vade mecum or memorandum of this unbridled situation, which in any case had to simplify it whenever it is indicated for the reading of three beings that would meet in what literal of four spirits articulated in the continuum, in such a way that Vernarth added his bilocation to this symmetrical experience to meet again with the Mashiach who awaits him on the third step before entering the Iridescent Nimbus.

His parents will be the co-princes gathered on the Supichi road bound for the Horcondising, where Vernarth all Austral Winter Solstices will come to ask his parents for an audience in the Kanthillana Heights where they will summarize the exact day, that everything happened from a Thursday to a Sunday in the first hour of the most certain Saturday in which the twelve unnatural candles will be incorporated into the Duoverse from the branch of the Raedus Codex, specifically from the Antiphon that accompanies them to the compromised one, and sinuous height that was misted by the mist of snow, and vehemence that was perceived in the greatest regulars of Spílaiaus, having a ring of lights as if such were a gesture of Jerome and everything that was named in the concordance that could be confusion that slipped from the metaphysics of new space by beginning. From such a root emerges the Eta or value number and Vernarth symbolized as  N times from "8" to the entire value of the figure of 800 "w" or Omega, which will be the values of figures and numbers to predispose the alternation of the visits that will take place. to have with his precursors each Solstice, after alternating with the Elves of Archimedes, and to cross with them the manifestations that made him lighter than air, as could be expected before the imposition of everything that he imagined to sleep to the badly gestated world that had been altered, even with a remote Faith that symbolized the decisions of Saint John the Apostle by disposing of the salvages of the vestiges that had been destroyed in the physiognomy of a cause that proved more eloquent than a mere revelation that was never believed which would awaken from its very Semitic superlative. In this case, the allegory surpassed the prototype of all curly visual language that emanated from Vernarth's decision for the humanity that needed him, on the one hand, Saint Jerome already resolved, and Saint John the Apostle in the division of two events of the same story that It was melting into the complexity that would be unspeakable for two Saints in the middle of Vernarth, demonstrating that he had taken them with all the power of the force that is capable of pulling and manipulating until arriving at the darkness of the senses where all understanding and reasoning fall asleep. only allowing the silence to take them in the ellipsis recently emanated by the Nothofagus that were walking on the flaccid snow, the three went with graces of faith and satisfaction, Saint Jerome escorted them with everything healthy that made the incomparable awakening of two latitudes explode who managed to revive in invisibility, after resisting the latent verbigrace of the Apokálypsis that showed that the incomparable topic denoted the ma Greater resistance to everything destructive and Omega with the only subjection that only the verb "Love" does. They reached the icy and stinking gases similar to what Santa Rita de Casia emanated, which at the same time would be dividing breakers like those declared by the Corinthians about the Israelites when they were blinded by the radiance of Moses. The same would happen in the veil of little snow that was left behind his last steps when everything was white as a growing incident that would be attached at once to Patmos and Sudpichi, as well as Kanthillana and Olympo. He says goodbye to his parents and they carry their impulsive agreements to meet on the next Solstice together with Saint Jerome and Spilaiaus on the plateau.
Genesí of  Apokalypsis
what
rich generation
we
own
the key
to scratch

anything you
could touch
with your
pathetic
hands
tryn
touch me
beyond this
rich generation
?













...
..
.
noted
...
..
.
father arrives carrying lovelessly
the weight of his own shadow
across the furniture.

throws his socks missing
the mouth of the laundry bin.

exhaust of television static
as his mouth opens agape

receiving the dizzy fizz of
turning channels

like spindrift through the windows
moist, wizened on his resigned couch

he falls asleep like a pin
dropped into the heart of the ocean—

life, what have you done?
mother lacquers her fingernails
as the dog wags his tail furiously

the mirrors ache as dead moments
grow roots in the viscera,

as shadows curb themselves
perfecting their disappearances,

the madhouse women
rehearsing their discomfitures

time swiftly passed
through the very past of things

that we have forgotten,
late to unsay the day struck by wind
and too uneventful to even plead
for undivided rest.
Life eats us away.
Miranda Mar 2017
I want to learn your secrets;
hear the things you've never told;
reach inside and **** your mind,
burn the things that make you cold.

I wish to know your dreams,
those that keep you awake;
peak inside and try to find
a way to give your worrisome mind a break.

I need to know your sins,
the ones you're ashamed to speak;
hold your hand, comfort them away,
reassure you that they don't make you weak.

I hope to know what haunts you
in the silence of your days,
do you think of me, do you think of her?
What words do you wish you could unsay?

I yearn to know your desires,
fetishes that make you tick;
grasp your heart, feel your skin,
discover the way our bodies click.

I crave to love your soul
in all the ways a person could;
hold your fears, kiss your tears,
adore you the way a lover should.
Norman Crane Aug 2020
we rest riverside
enwhispered in the twilit waters flow
seduced by the poplar grove
gently bending stalks
making way for the windswalk
forever let us lie this way
mud sand sun
minds eye unsay
ere new world takes our fantasies away
suppose words
are water and our bodies, wells—

flat on our bellies, our unsuspecting laughter supersedes their suddenness.

too late to unsay the space they occupy.
they arrive not with wind galloping
through trees.
they continually commit a nuisance
to us here in this decrepit home,
christening us with depthless sleep.

— what transpires beyond these shadowed moments unlearn the hairbreadth syntax of their perilous measures:

even the morning has no promise of May.
i say that in wide-flung hours of April when leaves begin to smoulder a cluster of red in the brindled breast of foliages, and rushed like lions to a slaughter, paring the flesh from the bone, these words unsheathe us more than the Earth shedding its skin — a dull synonym of how we are pressed against walls, our bones outstretched to breaking, ourselves displaced somewhere where the air of rescue does not wholly kiss us.

there is no image fainter than what was painted. no machinery can outlast the weight that is carried —

persisting lovelessly, a ragged meadow.
clambering ceaselessly, the warmest of bodies recoiled in melee.

suppose words
are such black-red thorns becoming petals and stems merely lovelorn, joyful to the eye
and hands are moons the bedfellows uninvited, you hiding behind shadows
    of changeless flowers:

so much the quiet way of this fate
reduced to hair-trigger.

thighed and pried lilies, dew slips frightened to a mist of trouble;
morning sleighs its brilliant face,
  such a luminous beginning to a dislimned end — far less touchingly than
a lullaby, this hot water music scaldingly
  presses on naked and whispers to them
  a new name without forgetfulness.

the weight is immense — anchored down, full of something in excess. there are doors that wish to commence oblivion, windows yearn to squint at the Earth so timidly muted in the body.

suppose your body is a home and the night subtly the wind that blows,
topples the roof-beam —

may your sleep be still and unshaken,
  your unperturbed garden slouches with a bounty of emerging flowers;
may your windows to the soul
  be always ready for birds that secretly
move in virulent strings of melody,

  something the world sings screaming
of life, something the stone of a fool
  so supple in hearing, something
the heavens hold together with the
  purest hand, something we precisely
    dream, such that we

        suppose you angels
  and us, the witnesses.
This poem was written for the victims of all kinds of abuse. Also, this piece was supposed to be read tonight at a poetry reading after being invited to read there, but then due to unfavourable circumstances, I was forced to opt out of the reading. Anyway, this was written in complete faith that words can also heal.
MARIE J Oct 2019
Last sunday, we go videoke.
Kaming unom, grabe'g panganta.
Naay nice ug tingog, naay okay ra,
naay wala gyud sa tono, naay nag sabay-sabay ra,
ug naay feeler gyud kaayo nga singer siya.

Niabot ang time, naka feel na mig uhaw.
Ni offer ang isa, isa ka bucket ambot ug unsa.
TOK TOK TOK ayay naa na ang gihulat,
tambal sa uhaw gipatong sa lamesa.
PAK! SMIRNOFF ANG GIDALA!

Kami nagpadayon ug kanta,
kachada sa pamati, sa ilimnong ma'lami.
Niabot ang last nga kanta,
Obladi, Oblada, tala na mamauli na ta.
Nihapit's balutan, mao na po'y gitirada.

Nanglingkod kadjot sa seawall,
nagpahangin gamay usa musakay.
Nipara mig cab kay hapit na alas dose,
sa rural basin mabiyaan mi.
Wa na gibyaan gyud, maygani naay super 5, pero tag 50 gyud.

Kami naabot sa tagsa-tagsang panimalay,
wow kalami sa akuang katulog bai.
Pagmata nako, nganong init kaayo ko?
Wa ko kasabot sa akuang gibati, gitugnaw ko pag ayo.
Yati, ngano man ni? Nag inom man unta kog vitamin C.

Pagka uran2 naa koy gi share sa fb,
nag react akuang miga kay sgalain pud daw iya ginhawa.
Taod-taod nag my day ang isa, gi dextrose kay gihilantan sab siya.
Nag text kos isa pa, kung ga daot pud siya.
"OO" mao na iyang reply,
***! why kami gyud upat dai?

Ang isa silingan ra namo, wala may gibati.
So, isa nalang kulang, akua gitawagan.
Wala mitubag, akuang manghod iyang gi chatan.
"Yes dai gihilantan pud siya", mao nay reply.
Wala nay lain, ang SMIRNOFF mao jud akuang pasanginlan!

Kaming lima baling yarok, sa smirnoff nga mabugnaw.
Ang isa wala nag mind kay nagsaad di gyud siya mo inom.
Mao toy amuang gidangatan, gipang ubo, sip'on ug gihilantan.
Grabe, unsay naa adtong smirnoff nila?
Ngano kaming lima ang naapektohan?
PS. Songhits KTV bar, hahaha mangayo mig refund ug mangayo mig health assistance kay daot inyua smirnoff!! HAHAHAHA! Kami dili palahubog biya nganong inyua ming gi igun adto? dili lalim maka absent.
David Watt Dec 2012
Bound to a memory thats quickly fading,
Your on your knees deperately praying.
Keep the past so crisp and clear,
So the pain keeps raw the hopless fear.

Take your pleeding to a higher might,
One with boundless un-clouded sight.
To Keep you locked in this eternal moment,
Making time cease being your torturous opponent.

Lost in his eyes seconds so splendid.
Defy every whim that fate intended.
For in two days your eyes will close,
Never to bring his cheeks to that subtle rose.

Kiss a smile that makes you quake,
deep down knowing every coming mistake.
For on this morning that you remember,
A fury burned in you as red as embers.

Words were said that you can't unsay,
Your temper could not abate this fray,
On the road that was slick with ice
Blood red rivers ran in a sickening slice.

The lights went out and the world got colder,
The ice moved in ever the bolder.
I miss your eyes that warmed me to my centre,
Now ever sore and fetid from this haunting splinter.
ohNoe Oct 2014
the voodoo doll I have for You
  I speak to every night
with babble beg plead please
  and then a wish for Yur sweet dreams

the tattoo I have of You
  I stare at every night
with a sentimental smile singing please
  and then a wish for You in sweet dreams

I Love You Shannon Hickman (S.H.)
  Stud Hero (S.H.) Inspiration
I was put on this planet
  to be the being who whispers to you
Let's hold hands as we journey even further
  let's Love where we are
    & then Love the journey however far

I'm supposed to bring You Happy Fun Joy
  I'm supposed to be Yur Happy ***** Poet Boy
I should show You the You of You
  Incredible Wonderful Awesome Amazing True
That's the only possible reason I exist,
  unless you'll kiss me inside a dream mist
    which You share with me
      WHICH YOU SHARE WITH ME

Every time we were together
  didn't You feel the Forever?
Didn't You hear the tremble in my voice
  which mirrored the Miracle of Yur choice?

I grieve **** shall always believe...
Please never grieve!!
  **** Please Believe!!
Shannon,
  Please Believe!!!!

Oh Shannon,
  when You listen to a song whose emotions You feel saying You are amazing & Yur touch is the
  primordial nova, do You ever remember that was My touch and that EVERY SINGLE TOUCH OF
  MY EYES WAS PURE LOVE

Ohhhhhh,
  Shannon,
    how the **** did I not lift You with me onto clouds where WE could watch Z-O-E climb trees as WE
    giggled at our giddiness?!

My words made You want me
  **** you bored of the real me
HOW is that OUR Reality?

Stud Hero (S.H.),
  Clint shall now strive for excellent,
    far better than merely partying
      with some misc poeting

I will be everything I can be of me w/out You
  even though the only thing I'll ever want
is Yur life, mind, voice, curves, caress, kiss
  and the Soul in Yur eyes

**** how shall it ever compare
  to when You were forever there
when I was suddenly infinitely hotter
  and am pretty sure I could breathe underwater

Oh, Once Upon A Time Lover
  Forever Fantasy Dream Lover
******* with You
  or into You
    or Both
was the most Man I've ever been
  the realest my lips & tongue & **** have ever been
**** besides beyond the ******
  was the sensual
    & You made my heart's soul whirlpool
      with even the hint of a touch
        (a whisper from Yur look was almost too much)

Yet You were able to eliminate Yur Love for me,
  while for me it is the only Forever I'll ever be.
One day You could suddenly unsay NEED,
  **** Yur the only breath I'll ever bleed

Dumped Discarded
  thrown tossed away
Broken Sharded
  so easily tossed away

How?
  WOW to OW
How?
  HOW!?!?

Not just someone,
  not just fun,
    The One,
Not some ******* Stupid Movie “Neo”,
  SHE IS THE ONE

**** she decided i'm noone
  i am none

every belief i've ever held is unbelieved
  wrong wrong wrong wrong un-believed
                                         (i'm not me)

now mostly Yur a memory
  that personality which spoke words with that voice which sang sighed from that face, oh, that that
  face, through that mouth, sweet mother of the universe, that mouth, with those lips (ohhhh, so unfair
  to have those lips AND those eyes)
now mostly a memory

**** I do remember,
  I remember Every time we touched
                      Every time we talked
and when the nerves of my body
  forget Yur Lips, Yur Fingertips
    & the sweet squeezes between Yur thighs
I will still feel Yur eyes

You thought I saw inside You
  **** it was really inside You seeing me

Oh S.H.,
  the silly sweet stunned smile in my eyes
    is because of You
and Yur what makes them Blue
  (even blind I would see You)

My only philosophy
  is You should BE with Me
tell me to touch You deep inside
  that that's how You NEED Clint,
    in every possible way that can be meant

Other than that
  i'm just the shadow of a shell
and i don't understand
  how you aren't as well
You said I was awesome
  Yur that & then some

In some ways
  I'll be that way always
and even prove
  I can improve

My moonlight is as ever silver nova bright
My soul is still a sibling sister to the sun
I am as always an ocean
  my hand the waves upon the sand

I've decided to be healthy
  and so I shall be
I've embraced positivity
  so I'm as pleasant as can be

Active athletic
  no longer amateur alcoholic
I push to make me
  the Me knowing You
    made me want to Be
Goals for body & soul
  and the Noe I want you to know

And I'm reaching them
  & teaching me
Although other than that
  i'm just a shallow shadow of a shell

And Always
  And All Ways
S.H., S.H., S.H.
  my every realization
  my only information
    is Yur my Inspiration

Maybe Yur future music muse will Someday as a guitar sing my name

Maybe someday as You ride mtb miles
  or rule the road Hickman style
a song will echo in You our smiles
  for miles & miles & miles & miles
Maybe Yur memory music muse
  shall moan laugh sigh
    as a guitar sings my name

Then as You ride on by,
  will You call my name?

I'll be biking or hiking
  or swimming or gyming
    or running or writing
as I'm hoping & wishing
  & wanting & waiting
ben a while, sorry, have a few looong ones to catch up typing, been focusing on physical, triathlon training and miles of riding thinking...
WordWerks May 2023
(Verse 1)
When I wake up in the morning,
I'm often filled with regret
For all the things I wish I'd done
And the things I can't forget.

(Chorus)
While I can't unsay the things I've said,
Or take back the lies I've told
There's no one else instead
I want to be with when I'm old
If you could give me one more chance
I promise I'll mind my ways,
"Cause heaven only knows
I'm learning from my mistakes.

(Verse 2)
I know I can't change the past,
What's done is done I know,
But I try to improve my lot 'cause
It's from my mistakes I grow.

(Chorus)
While I can't unsay the things I've said,
Or take back the lies I've told
There's no one else instead
I want to be with when I'm old
If you could give me one more chance
I promise I'll mind my ways,
"Cause heaven only knows
I'm learning from my mistakes.

(Bridge)
I know I'm not alone,
'Cause we all make mistakes.
But regret can't hold us back,
Disappointments can't be our brakes.

(Chorus)
While I can't unsay the things I've said,
Or take back the lies I've told
There's no one else instead
I want to be with when I'm old
If you could give me one more chance
I promise I'll mind my ways,
"Cause heaven only knows
I'm learning from my mistakes.
Untold Story Aug 2015
We've burned ourselves hopelessly to the idea of love.
But, is it ever enough to just let the fire die?
Pain seeks to every inch of our systems,
Bleeds to every part of our existences.
How can we break to grieve
when all we strive is to give love that's never needed?

We've been in love with people who didn't love us back.
We've been loved by people who we didn't love back.
But which is worse : To be broken or to break another?

The memories we can bare,
But seeing them again makes us feel unaware.
Seeing a smile upon their face
knowing we're the reason for it.
A smile : Fake : to try to move forward.
A smile : Evil : to get revenge.

We can't undo what's been done.
We can't unsay what's been said.
The saddest part of it all is...
We can't forgive ourselves and they can never forget.
Em Apr 2013
Hey, hi.
How have you been? It feels like forever since we talked.
How's school? Work?
How is she? I heard you two are over. Are you okay?
Look, I know you and I have been done for quite some time.
But that doesn't mean I left all my emotions behind.
I think about you all the time.
You've never once left my thoughts, my mind.
You make me crazy, confused, conflicted.
I can't help but wonder if you ever think about me too.
Believe me, I've tried, and tried to forget about you.
You could have made it easier by not giving me so much to hold onto.
I have so many questions that need answers, so many words I wish I could unsay.
You won't understand, but everything reminds me of you.
Whether it's our song on the radio, something on the t.v., or just some corny joke that reminds me that you were the only reason I smiled for so long.
I don't mean to waste your time.
I don't know how you're gonna respond to this, or if you'll even care.
But I just had to get it out there.
I guess I'll end there.
So, I hope to see you soon.

P.S. I'm still not over you.
Ivy Swolf Jan 2015
Listen for just a moment. I know you don't
have the patience but if you don't listen
now I might not have the guts later. Look at me
in the eye. If that doesn't work we'll turn the lights off. I am desperate
to unsay the things I hurled
at you. When we fight I feel cold
and my voice feels far away, as if I have no control
my vocal chords might as well strangle me
it would hurt less
than your rejection
after another fight.
I'm just trying to sort out my brain.

xIvy
Bowedbranches Jan 2022
Safe to un-say
my slip o'the tongue
Embarrassments
Arent at all unexpected  
Pleased to meet you
Time would say I am one
Interesting Investment
Although I stay letting others
Underestimate
Me
And My strengths
to take my power away
But I continue to make it
Til my days are up
×
muteD Mar 2020
Words hurt
But yours shouldn’t have to.
The things you say stick to me like a
Tattoo.
I’m a vacuum.
I **** up all the things you say
and it just replays.
You say
things you think you have to say
in ways
that are better left unsaid.
Too bad you can’t UnSay
the things you said
even though I know
you never would.

How come
it is always the ones we hold closest
that is gifted
with the blueprint
of our defeat?
a way to have us
beaten, broken hearted
and down
on both knees.

How is this honest?
How are we fair?
To be clear,
as you sleep
without fear
I sit here and think.
If you had a snore for every tear I’ve shed,
you might never wake up.
Written : 3/4/20
Life's most precious gift:
To live, we have to just breathe
But there're thoughts beyond thoughts,
Trapped in a realm, yearning to be freed:
If we hold this breathe seize,
We shall seize to live, but leave
But sometimes, to actually live, we have to leave

There's a thin line between sanity and insanity
Erased by our unsay
There's a thin line between Illusion and reality
Erased by our don'ts

This place of gracious enticement
Where we watch us being killed
A place filled with men of slightest thoughts
Amused by this illusional amusement
A place where nothing is real
Full of dos and don'ts, yet no one is free

Though we all came with says and dos
We've not by ourselves chosen to be free
We've trapped all those for the sake of our creed

Why then not hold this breathe seize to actually live
For stance where our thoughts could not reach
For life in a place we've never seen
A place where we're actually free
Why don't we leave to actually live?

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Laura Jul 2018
I was always cautious about using the L word
The word used after like
The big L
Because you can't take that **** back
Once you say it,
You can't unsay it
You can't unhear it

Then I found the L word
I found him
A milk chocolate man with yummy espresso eyes
A goofy, crooked smile that never quits
Tight, soft curls pushed back in a black mane
And a voice that floats on feathers

I found the L word
In between my fingers where he holds my hand
On the nape of my neck where he kisses me at night
Across my cheeks where he brushes his hand
In my mouth where he feeds me the food he's prepared

I found the L word while I was folding my laundry
While I was making us coffee
While we were talking about everything
While we were doing a puzzle and getting nowhere
While I was scrubbing his back in the shower
While we fell asleep in the summer heat under the heavy blankets

I found the L word at a time when I didn't think I would
In a person who wasn't supposed to love me
But did anyway
Despite it all
Dr Sudhansu Dash Sep 2016
My writings are in a wet paper
My morning starts on a floating wave
My memory in a missing time
Everything uncertain and unclear
All the de-petaled flowers of yesterday
Yet I am forced to live into which I am betrayed
Following a journey for a war of life.
Being a conqueror
When I return
YOU (life) are excited for another death.
Futile attempt, futile ego.
I deceive myself sincerely knowing much about YOU
But manage carefully not to know YOU.
YOU cling
To the murderous innocency of the child’s smile
To the unbearable softness of the winter morning sun
To the softest violence of the mother’s love
To the invisible darkness of the no-moon night
To the sharp look of the eye
To the vapors of a warm kiss on the fore head
Still much remain unsaid and untouched
Perhaps any say about YOU is unsay able
And all unsayables are the only sayings of you
Perhaps you are not available when I am there
But available when I am not there
YOURS
The Seeker.

Copyright@ Dr Sudhansu Dash
Diana Mendes Jun 2015
unkiss me for all those times we kissed,
untouch me for all those times we touched,
unsay the words of tender and passion,
unlove me and now forget.
Daylight 4U2C Jul 2014
It tears the border,
like an army of sunken ships and color in the blank seas
It tears the heart,
like a bullet rushing to the finish line but always paused in motion.
It tears the life,
for g-d knows what life truly is.
It tears the thoughts,
for cracked vases do shatter.
Beneath the cold and rough hands,
of broken and battered.
It is skilled.
It tears everything.
Shatters them completely,
until dust is left in each place.
Would 'obliterate' be a good choice of word?
Perhaps 'traumatize',
since that is what happens when 'it' is all over.
And what brings this?
Life.
Life must come,
only to take.
One more is one less.
Leaving the effortless life-taking to be the simplest choice.
It is skilled.
It has you believing ropes and knives are friends.
Knives numb the pain.
So do pain-killers.
As does the stinging of a ringing in your head,
from what you thought would be a simple escape to Neverland.
Ropes bring emotional and physical pain.
Then the walls have holes,
and the scars burn in the rain.
They say,
"Don't do it!
There's a better way!"
Yet they never seem to say,
"It's a illusion that takes you farther from where you wanted to be,
and it gets complicated."
It is skilled.
It tears the little hairs from your head.
It tears the children sleeping in bed.
It tears the words you can't unsay.
It tears the people,
who never seem to stay.
It tears a hole in your gut.
It tears a penny in an empty cup.
It tears until you don't look up.
It tears like a river, moving quick.
It tears and stabs, as it is slick.
It is skilled.
It should be feared.
Living on the brink of "where am I?"
And "whose body am I in?"
There you wonder if everything you've done is a sin.
Alas you don't expect to be forgiven.
In your mind,
you've already sinned,
so you figure you may as well give in.
Wrote this a long time back. Found it in a draft and decided to fix the grammar.
The angel fell and her pure white wings are turning black,
the way that things are now has got me wishing I could turn time back.
I'd unsay so many things, and I'd do so many more,
I'd live so very differently if I knew what life had in store.
But for now I'll sit alone, and dream of a purer day,
what was the point in anything, we stopped talking anyway.

— The End —