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"unseeable" poems
For the readers Nerds, geeks, book lovers Wizards, Hobbits, and Tributes, believing in unseeable lands. Minds grow restless to travel through the fluttering pages of these paper portals, Bookmark today and visit another version of reality. Brave enough to love people they can’t see. People they will never meet People who would understand them The way no one else does Smart enough to know this world isn't worth staying Dystopian lands often favorable To our own growing demise Wholeheartedly believing in the fictional and loving the unreal. Attempts to turn the nonfiction fiction To self hypnotize away today's chaos You must have one hell of a heart to seek refuge in another's imagination, and be able come back to reality when your done and try to to love this world.
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Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
For the readers
Prelude "Let's go" his soft whisper the mantra, in his voice she hears the esoteric voyage through the cryptic high seas of self, fathomless, unmapped, uncharted and reachable only by the most fearless ready to unbind and make the self free for it's adventure, begins thus for the peaceful pair complementing the absolute for a life time, til they reach there and find themselves one with                       pure consciousness. "Let's let's, but only together" she chants in unison,with him. 1. Bidding good bye to ego, clad in red and black a beast, not easy to bring to it's  knees, submit, the high horse proud,raring to go,having  sharp horns sticking out, fierce, that goes berserk,on seeing white. Altogether a curious construct, that dictates terms- they set about, invoking the blessing of the flame of light. 2 They stood together,  eyes widely shut, bringing both palms together,in front of their  chests creating a lotus bud, symbolizing hearts,bowing each other in "Namaste",-bows the divinity in thyself- chanting the mantras of peace, thrice, each time, repeatedly. 3 "Lets go back to the begining of every begining.." the primordial hum, transcending quagmires of time in the path of our ancestors,who did see the" unseeable", without eyes, knew the "unknowable",diving in to the ocean depth of self,going inwards chanting"Neti, Neti" Not this, Not this, inquiring each till the essence did reveal. 4 They did this, focusing the eye of the mind, on the eye beyond all, that watches every small thing in universe. Mind, sharpened like the blade of a sword,efficient to cut the Gordian knots,of paradox, duality and illusion, encountering the silence that thickens at last, speaks the words of wisdom,patient they are, to know the ultimate, right there at the source of light that is the true essence of all, 5 Celebrate the pure consciousness, that pervades in every thing, the thought that begets all thoughts,that  moves on to be karma, that becomes purer, through the cycles of lives, one after another. "Let's be humble, utmost, sans the ornamental clothes of pride. May the thought reigning cosmos, the spirit of peace,chanted aloud, take us to it's sanctum sanctorum and melt us in to it's divine embrace. Only one there is, all are it's integrals,the divine cosmic hum 'Aum' that enliven the universe within each cell, remember , is eternal"                                                 #@@#
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC
The Journey to the center of the cosmos
Prelude "Let's go" his soft whisper the mantra, in his voice she hears the esoteric voyage through the cryptic high seas of self, fathomless, unmapped, uncharted and reachable only by the most fearless ready to unbind and make the self free for it's adventure, begins thus for the peaceful pair complementing the absolute for a life time, til they reach there and find themselves one with                       pure consciousness. "Let's let's, but only together" she chants in unison,with him. 1. Bidding good bye to ego, clad in red and black a beast, not easy to bring to it's  knees, submit, the high horse proud,raring to go,having  sharp horns sticking out, fierce, that goes berserk,on seeing white. Altogether a curious construct, that dictates terms- they set about, invoking the blessing of the flame of light. 2 They stood together,  eyes widely shut, bringing both palms together,in front of their  chests creating a lotus bud, symbolizing hearts,bowing each other in "Namaste",-bows the divinity in thyself- chanting the mantras of peace, thrice, each time, repeatedly. 3 "Lets go back to the begining of every begining.." the primordial hum, transcending quagmires of time in the path of our ancestors,who did see the" unseeable", without eyes, knew the "unknowable",diving in to the ocean depth of self,going inwards chanting"Neti, Neti" Not this, Not this, inquiring each till the essence did reveal. 4 They did this, focusing the eye of the mind, on the eye beyond all, that watches every small thing in universe. Mind, sharpened like the blade of a sword,efficient to cut the Gordian knots,of paradox, duality and illusion, encountering the silence that thickens at last, speaks the words of wisdom,patient they are, to know the ultimate, right there at the source of light that is the true essence of all, 5 Celebrate the pure consciousness, that pervades in every thing, the thought that begets all thoughts,that  moves on to be karma, that becomes purer, through the cycles of lives, one after another. "Let's be humble, utmost, sans the ornamental clothes of pride. May the thought reigning cosmos, the spirit of peace,chanted aloud, take us to it's sanctum sanctorum and melt us in to it's divine embrace. Only one there is, all are it's integrals,the divine cosmic hum 'Aum' that enliven the universe within each cell, remember , is eternal"                                                 #@@#
Continue reading...
55
Nobody would've ever guessed that I, Maggie, the crazy, joyful, happy one, could've ever done what I did. I, Maggie, the one that prances around, not giving a **** The one that takes life by the hand and pulls it along after her; while deep inside, she scorns it. As I smile on the outside, no one can guess the amount of pain that my soul is putting up with. I mask it with false joy, unknown to others and unseeable except for when I slash it open on my wrists, legs; My only weak spots. And nobody would've guessed that I, Maggie, the one who loves, hated herself enough to try to end herself. They never could've, though. I gave them no reason to. So why would I want them to think that I did? I blame the hormones.
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Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 12:31 AM UTC
I, Maggie
I'm tired of this fake reality. This non existent world I call home. This fantasy where whales fly with the wind while woodpeckers swim with the waves. A place that Impossible scenarios call home. Exhaustion takes me there every night. I've studied this place and I know how it works now. It's not a home for impossible scenarios but a place for false hope. It takes your memories and creates fantasies that'll never turn into actualities. I've noticed this so I've stop trying to go there. These nightmarish places disguised as fascinating fantasies are no interest to me anymore. I'm leaving this hellish place behind but I'm not going to leave without something. I'm not going to let my nightmares runaway with years of my dreams. I will drag something good out of this situation because my teacher told me to write a celebration. When in reality For me at least That is almost unachievable. Key word almost All I have ever wrote is depressing poems crafted by a beautiful mind using sinful words. So I ask myself: How is this possible? How does one take a hellish situation and find hope? How does one go outside their comfort zone? What am I going to do? I've tried before. It only stuck me in second place at my freshmen year slam which ***** because I finally know I'm much more then some ******* second place at a freshmen year slam. I just wish I knew that early. So I wouldn't have to have these emotional scars, and physic. They have returned, day after day, week after week, year after year. But I am done. I'm going to find something good in these nightmares if it kills me. I've taken these emotional scars and taught myself to deal with them. These scars that are unseeable can't restrain me anymore. You see, I finally now how to give celebration to these corrupted dream catchers that live inside my head. These Permanent EMPs that block dreams and not nightmares. These things that have created unwanted dates with unwanted "dreams". I've experienced anything and everything there. So if I'm gonna pull anything from this hellish place. It's experience. I've played this game of life hundreds of times and I finally know the level nows. I know where not to go. I know what not to do. And I know who not to talk to. You see these things are just thoughts from my broken guardian angel trying to warn me about the bad things in life. The things in life that broke her and made her unrepairable. She does not want that for me. So thank you broken guardian angel for stealing my dreams and making them nightmares. I've only just realized that these nightmares are metaphors for hard life lessons.
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Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
Guardian Angel
I'm tired of this fake reality. This non existent world I call home. This fantasy where whales fly with the wind while woodpeckers swim with the waves. A place that Impossible scenarios call home. Exhaustion takes me there every night. I've studied this place and I know how it works now. It's not a home for impossible scenarios but a place for false hope. It takes your memories and creates fantasies that'll never turn into actualities. I've noticed this so I've stop trying to go there. These nightmarish places disguised as fascinating fantasies are no interest to me anymore. I'm leaving this hellish place behind but I'm not going to leave without something. I'm not going to let my nightmares runaway with years of my dreams. I will drag something good out of this situation because my teacher told me to write a celebration. When in reality For me at least That is almost unachievable. Key word almost All I have ever wrote is depressing poems crafted by a beautiful mind using sinful words. So I ask myself: How is this possible? How does one take a hellish situation and find hope? How does one go outside their comfort zone? What am I going to do? I've tried before. It only stuck me in second place at my freshmen year slam which ***** because I finally know I'm much more then some ******* second place at a freshmen year slam. I just wish I knew that early. So I wouldn't have to have these emotional scars, and physic. They have returned, day after day, week after week, year after year. But I am done. I'm going to find something good in these nightmares if it kills me. I've taken these emotional scars and taught myself to deal with them. These scars that are unseeable can't restrain me anymore. You see, I finally now how to give celebration to these corrupted dream catchers that live inside my head. These Permanent EMPs that block dreams and not nightmares. These things that have created unwanted dates with unwanted "dreams". I've experienced anything and everything there. So if I'm gonna pull anything from this hellish place. It's experience. I've played this game of life hundreds of times and I finally know the level nows. I know where not to go. I know what not to do. And I know who not to talk to. You see these things are just thoughts from my broken guardian angel trying to warn me about the bad things in life. The things in life that broke her and made her unrepairable. She does not want that for me. So thank you broken guardian angel for stealing my dreams and making them nightmares. I've only just realized that these nightmares are metaphors for hard life lessons.
Continue reading...
47
The road darkens quickly; it turns and sways and tapers off into an unseeable zenith. The gravel cracks and rolls underfoot. This road peels skin off of knees. This road rips palms to shreds but I've traversed it many times; I can recall each boulder and each protruding limb. I nestle between the crags and I bathe in the starlit puddles. The water is murky and littered with bottles, with pens, with Barbie dolls. It is lukewarm. I revel in my shivering, pruning skin. I walked along its path yesterday. I closed my eyes but I listened well. Unholy silence. I lifted my foot and triumphed a broken branch that always exists. I could run this road blinded and gagged. I dipped my toe in a puddle. Time wouldn't let me bathe. Darkness fell beyond my eyelids and chilled these fragile shrouds. I leapt over a crag. It has grown since I've been gone. I fell into its depths. It isn't a crag at all: it is the end. This road has broken off and it dangles children's toys off a precipice. I am still falling. The wind lashes at my eyes and dries out my tongue. I am blinded and I am gagged, but I do not know this road at all.
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Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
Malleable Crest
she boiled my blood inside a *** of steel, with bread she cooked it thoroughly till foam, had covered all, unseeable, unfeel- -ing, vengeance wrathful, hardened to a loam, where blood is life, she caused the life to be, unlivable, no more a life to me (C)2012, Christos Rigakos
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
she boiled my blood
silk & saffron cylinders basking in the still light thoughtlessly as a blue jay bathes in his bird bath as a brave baby bites for his mother's bare breast as i watch you from a house across, you stretch awake your rib cage glimpses the light for a moment and dissolves, disappears. i knew i was unseeable first when i was five watching my mother undress for him and then him and then him and then again when i was fourteen when my eyes were white as snow against the unlit room but still my sister didn't-couldn't see me staring. i'm a ghost, woman, and I need to **** something to make me live again
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Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 2:41 AM UTC
woman
I see two paths, two lives for myself - with him I am cast into an ocean of untamed feeling, lost to reason, and floating off into an unseeable future. With the other, I am held fast, held close by his love and burrowed deep into the earth; an old tree that twists faithfully growing strong and aging gently across the planes of a lifetime. How am I to love - who am I to be, to choose, to sink into. I feel the pull of his tumultuous waves and the roots that simultaneously bind me to the earthly warmth of another kind of man.
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Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 8:58 AM UTC
Internal monologue
Drowned in self pity Negativity Eats you up like breakfast Tears away fragile tissue Smears your head in thick mud Dirt in your lungs Spits on your dreams Kicks at your wishes But he's weak He comes He goes No more And when you find the strength Peak your head over the high mountain Down into the green, green valley The valley, not of death, but the opposite Be sure to remember his face Never forget the horrors of old For they are what keep you from that place Another visit, another level of Hell It's never necessary lest you're careless If you forget that grudges aren't you And they only **** truth And that sharp words make no one Except the speaker... bleed This - this thing - Unnameable but unmistakable Unseeable and unkillable It diesnt deserve your sugary disposition Or you're homely offer of kindness Just show it what you're made of Smile a smile to cause blindness
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
(bind 'em) + (blind 'em)
His Mother thinks her way is supreme So another man arrested by hubris. My gifts learned and honed in fire are as useless to her as **** on a bull. Unable to see the unseeable. Hear the unhearable. know the unknowable Renders gender sense to the ash heap of Pure Feelings. Why not pluck the eyes Cork the ears with molten lead. Burn the olfactory to the ground. Testosterone will dazzle and fling that yolk aside. Mother nature has her place but Father Time will bring all to balance. If left to his devices. A fathers gifts are underrated. A cultural Blunting. Sorry baby bunting. Daddy can't go hunting.
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May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
My boy in limbo
*Sitting in the cold metal bench Shivering, I wait for the train I watch people come, then blench I hear some guy calling Jane I see a face, a lost young face, crying I listen to a mystical men playing violin In the dark left corner of the station Weeping a deep melody about lying This...ah...sedation? I... I watch, I... I hear, I see, I listen but I've only been Here for a fraction of a second... (I reckon) The train is coming The ground is shaking Please view me Please dye my soul I've no control The answers? The questions! The questions that lead to wandering Pondering the suggestions of answers Am I invisible? A spectrum of light unseeable to human eye? A slave of the soul? What role? Reset! Set! and go... I'm suddenly in a train, no woe Sitting in a warm bench Snug and no pain With no clot of revenge Someone pulled the plug I feel...disconnected of...?? Memories? Reflections? Wonders? Brrrumm!! Thunders in all directions Ripped from above the numb I've no control Am I a slave of the soul? A spectrum of light unseeable to human eye? Invisible? The train stops! and the curtain drops.*
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Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC
The Train
Music Just has a way Of expressing everything Worming itself Deep Deep Down Inside Digging out the deepest Hidden emotions Explaining the inexplicable Showing the unseeable *The Pain Anguish Reluctance Sentiment* Everything you wanted To say To express To think *Anger Tears Frustration Turmoil* It all comes out The instrument An extension of your very self The vibrations reaching Your very core And sometimes You even feel a little Pull In the argument between Melody and Lyrics The Music Is the Power The Words Only give it Meaning But they can only do So much.
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
Wordless Power
Love can shine like salvation. Love lights unseeable torches When heated, love evades judgment. It gives breath to the sweetest sounds. Love makes reasons and it breaks reason.
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Jan 9, 2022
Jan 9, 2022 at 7:01 AM UTC
qualities and characteristics
Freezing cells into place Carved-out space Most of the possessors are ****** queens with unseeable crowns and tethered gowns The particles assemble, dissemble And in their midst Oh, how I tremble -cj
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
VIII
He looks up at me with fragility, his panic an unseeable mask from reality. I have lost him to his past. I cannot fix this, cannot change this, but I'll try. I'll try to make it bearable, For him, because I love him, and that's what loved ones do. "Is there anything I can do?" I murmur, lighting treading my words into the forest of his brain. I shall remain here till I can find him once again. "No" His face so weary with defeat stares down at the floor, and at his feet. In these moments I see him weak. Alone. Like me, but not. The Child the Parents forgot. "Would you like me to leave?" I stroke his hair, an involuntary gesture, used almost to assure myself that he is still here with me. At least in body. "No" The voice reaches out to me, and speaks of beatings, loneliness, and pain. I watch the stains drain him, so engrained in him, it's hard to watch. I want to wash his mind, to find a piece of light to curl between his fingers and make him cling to tight. I want to make it right. And so I wait. Cast a breadcrumb trail of bait, and will him back to me. Patient, and understanding, holding and hoping to travel an embrace into the past, and raft my love to freedom. Come back to me Please I don't like it when you leave me Time always has an echo.
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Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
A Child's Memories Remain.
Numbers are real Yet, untouchable. The universe in my hand Literally, unseeable. My thoughts, they’re real But seemingly, unbelievable. Your skin against mine, Ha! improbable. Longing for you, The impossible. I’m waiting for you, That’s undeniable. Your feelings? That’s questionable.
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Questionable
My fire is dilatorily dissipating. I was once a holocaustal conflagration. A cremating, mad inferno. Containing an unseeable array of vibrant shades of amber; that could be seen from distant, distant regions. I had once ignited with such a passion. A drive that was beautifully unstoppable. You were my blazing incendiary. You started this combustible mess. I am now but a flickering ember, barely being able to spark. My once scorching and numerous flames have pulverized to ashes. ...Ironic isn't it? The arsonist who dared to create me whom fueled me with such a flammable tinder was the same person who tore me down within seconds with but a drop of water and a blink of an eye.
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Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
"An Exhausted Pyre"
Changle changle, Chain chain. Jingle like that loose brain The sounds of coins, full and dense Tasting all that decadence. Inertly, following I not must allow that gentle heart to rust The hole, may not of course be true but it's reality brings terrible news. If this book, which it is just that, is not fiction, but after all, a fact That is the worst, yes, indeed For we are all bound by our greed We must obey, the words, the facts Those undoubtable, untouchable unseeable artefacts. Yes, hell for you. And you. And you. Heaven for me and those who agree That some-man-in-the-sky-decided-that-he-wanted-us-to-be Free?
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
Believe!