Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
SassyJ Feb 2016
Your are a flavour of mystic flow and justice
Resounding effortlessly in vapoured divinity
A channel spinning within your furling crux
Cheers to our cups of leisure and pleasure

I turn around and your warmth embraces
I'll wait holding the gaze of your bright eyes
I'll wait touching this revolving total eclipse
I'll wait as I sense our forbidden mind-scapes

I have sensed your whole when we are apart
A near leap to meet,cuddle and feel the vibration
Uncovering the glistening gem that penetrates heat
Fondling the electric ******* oscillations under the bridge

Here is my cup, holding a rapture of your breath
Here is my cup, melodically swirling in fine entertainment
Here is my cup,exhuming and exhaling our magical essences
Our cup it is! Cheers! As we sprout and bloom pleasantly
O but tainted thou wert with grief,
as a thunder entrapped thy leaf.
In t'is corner doth I just weep-
as canst I afford no more sleep.

Like a songbird t'at leaveth its nest;
canst I not put myself to rest.
Ah, without th' tunes of thy sound feet-
t'ese rainbows sooneth begineth to fleet!

How could my pleasure nature cheat!
Trembling wasth I, with gentle wit!
As I dressed up for thee back then;
and combed my black hair by pale hand.

But thou wert just nowhere to find!
Ah! T'at evilness which made thee blind!
Its vicious trap hath left thee bare;
in yon bland middle of nowhere!

I longed to greet and console thee;
as thou sang loud and sat by me!
Burying thee in my *****;
Lent thee kisses 'till thou felt warm!

And coaxed thee as thou laughed out free-
with sparks of gentle flattery!
Ah! Thy eyes full of sheer mystery,
black and as deep as harmony.

And whispereth would I to thy ear-
t'at I love thee more every day.
T'ere would we lay gladly so near-
with passions t'at never decay.

Ah! How t'ose phantoms now lurk away!
But why still hath I noneth to say?-
Th' moment I frequent'd thy den;
Thou wert still not seen safe back then!

Thin wasth th' vapoured grass outside;
with clips of smile astretched wide!
But canst I only sob in dire gloom;
with red lights crowding in my room.

O, I miss thee now-I want thee now!
But to meet thee I can't see how-
Thy by her charms, and in her arms-
t'at harlot that canst feign thy warmth!

Ah, t'is imprisonment I cherish
For some time it might bringst me bliss!
But still it's thy portrait I kiss-
which I pursued by secret wish!

Love, bestoweth t'is chance on me once more!
To sweet-talk with thee like afore-
just as though there's no tomorrow;
meet me downstairs when no-one shows!

And t'is poem I compose in blue;
with despair in my lonely heart.
To assureth me t'at thou be true,
and we shalt never be apart!

O, it's thee t'at I yearn for, my love;
like th' stars to th' moon above.
And hail I t'ese complications-
as wings to our destinations.
S S Jan 2017
Shimmers molten road
Still air squats, beads, on my brow
Summer road trip woes.

Seat turns to quick sand
Thighs stuck fast can move no more
Summer road trip woes.

Each breath sighs, heavy
Vapoured water chokes the air
Summer road trip woes.

No soul seen for miles
Gauge collapses on empty
Woeful road trip end.
Sum It Jan 2014
Dripping water from faucet of heaven
pierced down the sky of my realm.
Last dream.
The sound went tip tip for two seconds and rimose creeped on my poise.
A fakir without head told me on my abrupt attention
"Find the sun,my son."

Old ragged converse from the stinky corners slipped out and hesitantly told
"You can't walk with me. You selfish rant"

The path was smooth to bore the hell out of me
From dawn to dusk I was among the rainfall of misty fumes
Slowly I vapoured too.I was informed
By voice unsung
"The sun shines only behind the clouds"
The dripping memories from faucet of heaven creaked inside me
I sublimed in absence of myself and words came out "what for?"

The  yellow ball of hot moraine bulbed out. The sun- it said, "What for"

The fakir without head spoke " the night is done"
nivek Mar 2016
Grinding memories into vapour
I touch the untouchable
wrap it all in newspaper
dig a hole, and bury it in the cellar.
nivek Jul 2016
The vapour from your song
mixes with clouds
waters the Earth
and the sea rises a little more.
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2010
Moments fly and phrases die
Like thistledown in breeze,
Creativeness evades
The minds capacity to seize.
Shadows of vast portraiture
Do beckon from within
Just to dissipate like gossamer
When almost penciled in.
Sequences of magnitude
Dissolve upon the lips
And laughter’s spontaneity dies
As vapoured humour slips.
To fancy pearls of rapture
Emanating from the brain
Would tax ones capacity
To ever fantasize for fame.
Frustrations of the frantic day
Those rushing points of call
Where interruptions, interrupt
In fleeting moments all,
Where focusing, just shatters
In the face of crass demand
Where inspiration’s stillborn babes
Are delivered cold to hand.
Tragic are the losses
To the mortified’s dry pen
And jubilantly, Satyrs claw
Creations’ prize …to them.

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
28 June 2010
How harmonious the amber creeks,
Rocking smoothly from mine chair,
Sipping wormwood, mercury and jupiter tea,
Ambrosial be the air watched from west the shores

Found I, him when my years be only few,
Brooding, betwixt toil and melancholy curses,
One whispers, the other answers,
But, knowing not the suffering be here

‘And, I struck deep his heart fitting proper a jester,
Secrets mine loyal is laughter,
O’ how sweet the mind on Elysian Fields,
Yet divine his despair, so sad, so fresh

O love, I die in your star filled skies,
A sun jewel sinking on velvet drapes,
Dulcet my lonely vapoured song,
Dying, dying, dying

A kiss after death, rotting upward from the netherworld,
O Death, O sweet, wilt thous know immortal passion,
Before pocket and pride?
Drunk of absinth, through hazed did ye love thee?

Mercury sparkles in pools below the chair,
And mine fancies be sky glow worms pulsing near,
Cave hulled labyrinths of memories time passed,
His soul rose into mine blood

I loved thee weaving golden in rocking chair,
Dancing with warm Nile winds,
Flanking sky dragons after sun sparkles,
O he thought heart diseased of loves adoration

Improper the vex was touted, time precious before thee
Of fifty I must be, with magick death and lust I shall be,
And thine so effect lives on in me, a mere trifle ye,
His pastime, dreaming of the skies to be

And still a secret dreaming sweetness in the sea,
He looked upon mine crown of Tao and gold in glee,
Mystics glory in a bed of moonlight death,
Found I, an angel mused he, to call thee fooled

Dreamed I, none be spring, and summer neither more,
And thorned a new crown, the fool his winter dawn,
His claw deep a finger bled, his glory shadowy form,
So, dearest, thou art thy likeness wise dead cold

His darkness uttering shadows, beautiful with thee,
My darkened ways, take Ravens wings ascend yee who read,
Love be, no single tear, yet binds mercuries silver rivers near,
The old amber chair rocked to and fro, grey her hair,

Mortal hands weaved, love runs silver

── whence ever death be near

© Arnay Rumens 2015
Poetic T Dec 2016
Liquid luminosity ejected upon the translucent
unoccupied remnants of what lingered
before it, slithering unto the restrained echoes
oxidizing its reach as all was ash in its grasp.

Dimness could be seen lingering aloft and saw
the violation it was perpetrating on the innocence
of obscurity below luminosity was eager to assert
even in a time of its slumber it transgresses outwards.

So the dimness that saw its brethren's plight did venture
in vapoured lingering and more came to the calling and
before long the moons gaze slowly became a figment
of it yearning, wanting to bleed the night into a florescent haze.

The stars were bathed in a void of silence and all that permeated
before was held to account, and so the moon shone upon a
blanket of unyielding fortitude to keep its time of obscurity
safe from the prying moon and it slumbered once again in peace.
Anna Sep 2016
What to say to an already devastated mind
What to preach who is already a disciple of harsh thought
What to  believe in the one who have vapoured their beliefs
What to teach who have already taught themselves to get corrupted...
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2015
Oh sweet, beloved Mercury
Where lucid liquid logic's rise
Who's silver molten vapoured sphere
Doth surge and crackle
fractaled lights.
Her breath ignites, excites, entice
The fevered frantic frightful men
With clustered cluttered clouded  thoughts
Where rabitts, worms and loop-holes blend.
An etheral itch commands her call
Crawling 'cross the rainbowed wires
Wordly winding  waves of mind
Embed upon her violet spiral.
Jayne E Jun 2019
Night binds me blue in blackened silk
elemental sleep stolen by deadest dark
needing rest, comfort, kindness's milk
sifted tears & sobs do leave their mark

still
cold
black
quiet
feels so solitary stark

no escape hatch though I crave release
as wants pull me unto vapoured arms
no succour here I will feel no peace
only bitter pills and swallowed harms

crested light brings harsher days
tattered remnants of coppered dreams
reminds me its the psyche that pays
as fragile silk tears joy at its seams

harsh
bright
bitter
light
of winters mourn

dawns bring the bitten blinded sighs
a glassed in cage for wing clipped birds
oblivion obscura in the masses eyes
ears deadened to my silence unheard

oceans full of childs supple soft bones
his hunters blade glistens the breaks
the wind whispers tortured moans
the sliced knife tip just takes and takes

endless
deep
black
water
the sea swallows me down

Its serene to the point of painful, pretty
this forest where sprites could be at play
no lighter folly for this game is too gritty
secret lair to lead his new lambs to slay

as these vignettes proxy via my dreams
projector unspools reels sickly unsweet
his breath putrefies unpeals my screams
his scent petrifies my heart shale & sleet

hurt
broken
hollow
husk
brittle
a once fierce heart lays flayed.

J.C. littlebird 07/06/2019.
betterdays Jul 2014
truly,
in the
big picture.
we are,
one
and
all.

a
vapoured breath,
set.
upon a zephyrs tail.

one point
in a pontilism
painting.
a
single
dot,
staining
the canvas,
beautiful.

a
solitary
sliver of silicon,
seeded
into the beach's
sandy dunes.

a
nanite
navigating,
a
nano second.

a  
glimpse of glory.

a miniscule moment.


truly,
this
is
what
we
are.

but
we believe,
that we
are,
the centre,
the axis
the
revolutionary
point.

and
that,
we may
well
be

can we not,
be,
all this and more

that is
our
conundrum
we are nothing
and
we are all.
Dayda Jun 2020
I dreamed of this day since that moment
When you left me just like that
To mend my immensely broken heart

13 years have passed
And yet, here we are again
You looked at me and I looked at you

All those years, I practiced all sorts of scenarios
Most are me slapping you really hard
And me giving you a piece of my mind

Yet, we stood here, in front of each other
I smiled and you smiled back
All the hurt I let vapoured away

You told me I was your biggest regret
I stood there silently with a smile on my face
We both know that what was once there will never return

God gave me you back, served on a silver platter
Giving me a chance to give back what you did
But in turn, I chose that moment to forgive you instead

You always thought that revenge is what you want
When instead forgiveness is what you need
I am free now, free forever from you

Thank you
You hurt me so bad once and all I want was revenge. Somehow, when that moment finally came, it was never what I want.
Yenson Jul 2019
That Cat is so slick
man! that dude's as slick as a prototype Maclaren's F1
In type, there's just no match around
academicals - he comes A Type
sound as sound can be, tungsten steel the frame
cool as dew with va va vroom to make toes curl
that Cat is just so slick

hey up, here come De Demoralization Mob
de  Tonton Makout of mama Doc Macafethievies
that doyen of house-burglars and her mob de Anarchy
criminal gangstalkers and the dime-a-penny mob
tasked with the job of pulling down a Colossus unstained

That Cat is just so slick
in dazzling casual style arrayed
with wit and wisdom expressed with panache
in any work or labour always tops the league outright
the quickest of mind, the sharpest of tools, he's just that smart
yet as laid back as the sweetest wine, yet as strong as Balkan *****
that Cat is so slick

Hey up! see the tonton Makout, brainless zombies droning
full of crap in mindless quest twisting in revolting mire
attack-dogs with rotten teeth, snapping and snarling in rabid throe
the going-nowheres of today venting frustrating and eating cancers
them dregs of the simpletons brigade and cannon fodder society

That cat is just so slick
a fine specimen of the real man in a real place
self-assure and vapoured in quiet confidence that's proven
the sensibility of sages, the cheeky humour of designers lauded
a masterpiece of a lover, a renowned craftsman of romanticism
oh to sing like a nightingale and write like he made the language
he cruises in effortless grace like you sail smoothly on the high seas
wow that Cat is exceptionally sleek

Hey up! here trudges the tonton Makout of Ghostville
verbose empties drunk on nonsense ales spewing doom and doom
two score years of anodyne dirges, a thousand dingos doing tangos
eating ****, spewing crap, paid a penny for fermenting forcasts
ding-bats doing the ding **** without any ding-dongs to show
miseries of their inadequacies projected in abject forms and style

That Cat is just so so slick
the host with the most, the Legend that make them feel unworthy
the thinking womans' dream, the *****' dearest wish, the man good
titled and honorable, straight as a dime, sincere, caring, he's just all
the sane mothers will see the son they wished they had
tonton Makouts sees that which they can never be, no matter what
They are never play in that League, all they want is to break a leg
jealousy and envy haunts them in radiated fumes, they choke
that Cat is just so slick and cool and he's the real Deal.....
YOUR TURN MUGGINGS .......Wonder if the tonton Makouts can write poetry, Yes they can, they just hide their identities and create loads of false tags and write zombie poetry. Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2018
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
"""­"""""""""""""""""""""""""""                  

      Where I come from it
         falls from forests.

    "Irish mists come softly
     down and leafless trees
with water buds will weep".

Besides, we host the cloud
   factories for all of Europe.

"Where west each wind is born
mischievous Gaels with pots
of vapoured broth, disperse its
brew and laced with ancient
   potions concoct a drape  
  to cloak the Saxon Horde".

And we have Wishing Wells
from where fountains of our
       history will lubricate
       passions of the past!
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2018
Irish Cloud  
             Factories.
        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Where West,
     each wind is born,

     mischievous Gaels,
  with pots of vapoured
broth, disperse its brew

  and laced with ancient
potions, concoct a drape,
to cloak The Saxon Horde.
Ryan O'Leary Jan 2020
Hidden behind the clouds
someone is watching us
through binoculars as we
begin our new year with
a visible catch.

Let the wishes begin.

The French are looking for
free hand outs from the EEC,
no work, pension age brought
back to 16, which would coincide
with official school leaving age.

The British don't want to loose
their mile, pound or Sovereign,
thus decided to leave the school
yard because the Germans have
got possession of the ball.

Kim Jong Un has decided, that
the Irish of Asia are not going to
be pushed around by W.A.S.P.s
from Washington D.C.

Jacinda Ardern has declared
Christchurch the fake ******
capital of New Zealand.

Australia have lifted the smoking
ban in  bars, restaurants and on Internal
QANTAS flights under 26,000 feet altitude.

The Republic of Ireland's
Metaphorical Millenium Needle
on O'Connell Street has been
successful in deflating the
corresponding Dome at UK
Docklands.

            Druid Chef's.

Where West, each wind is born
Mischievous Gaels, with pots
of vapoured broth,
Disperse its brew, and laced
with ancient potions,
Concoct a drape to cloak
The Saxon Horde.

                  <>

Let their BREXIT begin.

" A Silent Fury comes
   to haunt, a deserving
offspring of another age ".


Ps.

Trudeau is about to change
the countries name due to a
symbiosis of the Maple Leaf's
image and that of Cannabis.
Mohd Arshad Jan 2019
At midnight, snappy,
A shadow, sable,
Appeared at the window;

Tapping, twisting,
Tapping, gazing,

Like a cobra it coiled
And vapoured

Like the steam
Over a cup of coffee.

Oh, it was my Fear,
In its body,
Of beating a cat.

It had sat in my mind
After I got to know

Prophet said:

"Don't hit the cat."

It was my Fear,
In its body,
Of beating a cat.
Ryan O'Leary Oct 2018
Only our rivers run free.

No meter on the bridge
at Mallow in Munster.

But what of the cloud
factories in Connaught?

Where west, each wind
is born,

Mischievous Gael’s with
pots of vapoured broth

Disperse its brew, and
laced with ancient potions

Concoct a drape to cloak
the Saxon Horde.
The River Blackwater runs
through Mallow in County
Cork, Munster, there is also
a Blackwater in Ulster.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2020
The UK is trying to gloss
over a colourful illusion of
racial harmony, equality
fairness, their love of past
wars and imperial gluttony.

Nobody's buying British
******* anymore, English
Scots and Welsh are unified
points in a septic trident of
an evil trifecta, (being shafted).

Bring on Brexit the sooner your
isolation begins the better, ****
up the channel tunnel, let them
eat fish and chips and may the
Irish cloud factories darken you.

Where west each wind is born
mischievous Gaels with pots of
vapoured broth disperse its brew
and laced with ancient potions
concoct a drape to cloak the saxon horde.
A Freedom Nov 2020
Nothing is suffered nor has reached!
Yet, Human strains are traded fancy bubbles of love's vapoured devotion as in reality, 'their backbones' are already broken...with 'caution'.
~
Ryan O'Leary Dec 2023
.         Soupe de Jour
           Oct 7th 2023
        

            Where west
       each wind is born

         Cordon Cooks

    with pots of vapoured
  broth dispersed its brew

   and laced with ancient
  potions devised a drape

  to cloak the Zions horde.
Ryan O'Leary Mar 2020
Evolution of authoritarianism
is in direct proportion to the
erosive ratio of democracies.

Ice melts and re freezes given
the correct environment to do
so, but civil liberties evaporate.

Covid - 19 is a poliical placebo
whereby nation states empower
themselves against the populous.

Voluntary submission, as sheep
to the sound of barking dog's -
neither a Pavlov nor shepherd.

So, the monopoly's of opiation
contrive, consult and confer
their seeds of consternation.

Where west each wind is born
mischievous males, with pots
of vapoured broth,

disperse its brew and laced with
ancient potions, concoct a drape
to dupe the mindless horde.
Ryan O'Leary Dec 2023
.         Soupe de Jour
            Oct 7 2023
        

           Where west
      each wind is born

       Guerilla Gazan's

   with pots of vapoured
broth dispersed its brew

   and laced with ancient
potions devised a drape

  to cloak the Zion horde.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 25
So, what is actually in the name?

Well, if one was doing the family

tree of a word and its hereditary

background, we would refer to

the department of etymology. It

is here we find its root often Latin

or Greek, but in the case of this

•title, it is Irish. BUT, the Oxford

dictionary removed the K after

The Good Friday Agreement so

as to nurture good relations with

with historical adversaries. It is

now officially Toponymic and it

means coming from a place that

is associated with the name. For

example Tullamore Dew is often

in error confused with Irish Mist

but when the English suffer from

foggy weather they always attribute

it to the Irish Cloud Factories, that is

because " Where west, each wind is

born, mischievous Gaels, with pots

of vapoured broth, disperse its brew

and laced with ancient potions concoct

a drape to cloak the Saxon horde " yes

we still employ Druid Chefs because no

matter what those British ******* do

they will never be able to stop the wind

that shakes the barley as long as they're

on the wrong side of the Emerald Isle.

— The End —