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"voltaic" poems
I give love love love with the one look of my eye eye eye I excite your lament ion charge it high up high uuuuu potentially ready a ***** cation I am your aesthetic flaming electric activate your kinetic stop the resistence now don’t drop voltage difference I create is continually asymptotic I am the variation in your magnetic I am the field of your *** ethic if you not behave I become your inelastic scatter geomagnetic storm high potential chemical desire mechanical fire radioactive disaster through your interior I roar blast break silence the rocks shake the lights reverberate in your head I give love love love with the one look of my eye eye eye I excite your lament ion I am your voltaic lion
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Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Voltaic Lion
you have the formula A Love Poem Recipe:   Fij = G(Mi x Mj)/Dij. This formula, simplified, means that trade between two markets will equal the size of the two markets multiplied together and then divided by their distance. (The model gets its name from its mathematical similarity to the equation in physics that describes gravitational pull.) ~~~ long ago, swore off the love poem business. lying that this the last poem ever published moan not, statistically, for sure be a heart-infected sick teenager bemoaning/high fiving their  fated status but I don't need to add to that smoldering pile the excellence, the richness, the virtuosity of the formula a metaphor, for the bounty and the risk, in any love affair, thus love needy for a diagrammed explication two markets, soft upon each other, multiply their trade in love and kisses can you kiss her (him) but once? nonsense! saying I love you but once a day, like it was a vitamin, preposterous! no, love expands like a gas (a distant cousin to our formula), filling in the empty spaces, escaping through crevices, spilling, oft filling up the nearby bystanders in love, there is no thing as one touch clicking but one touch reveals the genetic marker, the initial intimacy injection Let the addiction begin! ten thousand grasps, some soft, some hard, upon each other, till fingers go lifelong contented numb desire and affection spread like a positive infection, the curative powers elegiac, but never prosaic and though formulaic think more voltaic and paradisiac electric heaven go forth and scribe you got the secret recipe
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Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
Yes Kid, You CAN write love poetry, if...
you have the formula A Love Poem Recipe:   Fij = G(Mi x Mj)/Dij. This formula, simplified, means that trade between two markets will equal the size of the two markets multiplied together and then divided by their distance. (The model gets its name from its mathematical similarity to the equation in physics that describes gravitational pull.) ~~~ long ago, swore off the love poem business. lying that this the last poem ever published moan not, statistically, for sure be a heart-infected sick teenager bemoaning/high fiving their  fated status but I don't need to add to that smoldering pile the excellence, the richness, the virtuosity of the formula a metaphor, for the bounty and the risk, in any love affair, thus love needy for a diagrammed explication two markets, soft upon each other, multiply their trade in love and kisses can you kiss her (him) but once? nonsense! saying I love you but once a day, like it was a vitamin, preposterous! no, love expands like a gas (a distant cousin to our formula), filling in the empty spaces, escaping through crevices, spilling, oft filling up the nearby bystanders in love, there is no thing as one touch clicking but one touch reveals the genetic marker, the initial intimacy injection Let the addiction begin! ten thousand grasps, some soft, some hard, upon each other, till fingers go lifelong contented numb desire and affection spread like a positive infection, the curative powers elegiac, but never prosaic and though formulaic think more voltaic and paradisiac electric heaven go forth and scribe you got the secret recipe
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61
The mosquitoes supped histamine limpets into our puckered flesh dew gilted grass entombed our feet in dappled domes refracting the overhead fireworks smears of whirling color accented by smoke mote ghosts I forgot to wear my contacts my near-sightedness makes you giggle nervously - a hard full body ****** of a laugh it arches your spine pulling our hand-holding into an expansion only the lining betwixt finger inlets galvanized our pulse well, that and your voltaic laugh its flourishing timbre resonant reverberant pyrotechnic thickly glazing aural canal lascivious tomes penned themselves densely upon neural plane dendrites imprinting chemical insignia moment captured in impressionistic blurs
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
A Firework Doppleganger Held My Hand Today
Dark waters ripple thought. horse drawn carriage tread voltaic wires, throbbing brain. lorn elation until osculation of lips dreamt nightly. nectarous skin float between fingers raptured. everlasting sand blown from ashes wrought with doubt. paroxysm of senses like electric eels wreck ties bound by vituperation. Breath like honeyed vapor, encased rouged cheeks. savored time in bottles, minutes turned to minerals mined. hours of golden flecks splashed in synthesized unison. New always, love evermore.
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
Eternally Silvered Sapphire
She is accompanied, by either mild disdain or comfortable curiosity, but always with magnetic eyes that do not spot the glints of time traversing through the shadows to pass her. Eyes glued to the screen, as two reflective sequins, shining opposite of the captivating screen that has momentarily captured her attention. Often squinting with head tilted slightly to the side, unable to give in to the crowd which fashionably wears the smirk of approval. Or with eyes drowning in the hatred of the Legion of Gerasenes, yet still yearning to not be cast aside. Tangible threads begin weaving the cloth of empathy, as each falling grain of sand counts another responsive brain wave reacting to the current. Unsure if these words filtered through the mechanisms of defense forced upon an individual after so many disappointing tributaries, or if rushing claret and voltaic storms of lucidity invited the passing guests. Unsure if you can overcome the luring request of the daughters of Achelous to settle the sandy shores of contentment, or, for just once, endure the salty trials with enough zeal to alter course and navigate to the unfathomable.
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Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
Fighting Sirens
Society, the nectarous drenched **** of gregarious giving. Or so we think.. One must be diligent to not consume to the point of overweening upon her intoxicating milk. "You can be anything" she coos delicately stroking your forehead. My bleary scruffed state prevents me from feeling her venomous ***** I am rendered limp set agog by the hypnagogic melody of society. Then there is you... Your Wild renegade eyes pry me from my cemented prison. Your Voltaic energy seeped in the poetry that coats my marrow and enamel, the substance of my soul. Such beauty estranged from society? How can that be? Was this matronly epicenter all farce and rigamarole? I clamor in search for those eyes to appease my pain. I search in vain.. until I face the mirror. Those eyes belong to me, the remedy to society is the awakening of yourself, the claiming of your poetry.
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Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
Society
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast Eyes glowing through orbs of green She dances covertly in the dark of night Where not another soul is seen warbling a haunting, enchanted tune Chanting, dancing around the fire under light of a full evening moon Questions lie on lips to desire Is she malevolent or benevolent? Never a soul has been so bold to tell their story, too hesitant! She possesses many powers, many tales Lifting her hands as she chants Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil Eyes brightening in orbs of green Chilly mist crawling over her skin Under an oak tree dancing unseen Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl Strange sounds and names uttered as she boldly dances, chanting out her call Wild, fierce, bold and free Like a chameleon she changes in red blazing firelight so unseen Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze Many forces about, electrifying ground and air Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees Many denizens of this land astound Warlocks and witches cast their magic here as their caldron bubbles over ground They come together from lake and fen Here they meet from darkened lair Ferny dells and rocky dens “Make room”, they call in pitch black night Bringing many potions to mix them well Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright! Casting out and about their magic spells Mixing tooth and tongue and nail Under fire, water, earth and dung They mix the caldron, hold the flail Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood Chanting out “By thee we bound upon this road"! Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed Using blood, eyes, tongue of a toad As quickly as they came, they hastily leave Departing forest dark, entering private glades Leaving once again, only to return On another chilly, full October moon eve they’ll chant, they'll brew their magic urns "Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to leave
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
THE WITCHE'S DANCE ON CLAWBOROUGH ROAD
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast Eyes glowing through orbs of green She dances covertly in the dark of night Where not another soul is seen warbling a haunting, enchanted tune Chanting, dancing around the fire under light of a full evening moon Questions lie on lips to desire Is she malevolent or benevolent? Never a soul has been so bold to tell their story, too hesitant! She possesses many powers, many tales Lifting her hands as she chants Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil Eyes brightening in orbs of green Chilly mist crawling over her skin Under an oak tree dancing unseen Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl Strange sounds and names uttered as she boldly dances, chanting out her call Wild, fierce, bold and free Like a chameleon she changes in red blazing firelight so unseen Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze Many forces about, electrifying ground and air Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees Many denizens of this land astound Warlocks and witches cast their magic here as their caldron bubbles over ground They come together from lake and fen Here they meet from darkened lair Ferny dells and rocky dens “Make room”, they call in pitch black night Bringing many potions to mix them well Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright! Casting out and about their magic spells Mixing tooth and tongue and nail Under fire, water, earth and dung They mix the caldron, hold the flail Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood Chanting out “By thee we bound upon this road"! Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed Using blood, eyes, tongue of a toad As quickly as they came, they hastily leave Departing forest dark, entering private glades Leaving once again, only to return On another chilly, full October moon eve they’ll chant, they'll brew their magic urns "Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to leave
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52
Your touch used to feel like lightning; igniting my entire body as if it were christmas lights you meant to wrap around the entire world. Your fingertips followed dance routines on my arms, leaving behind a path of hot embers right down to my thighs. You set off fireworks in my chest the moment our skin brushed against each other's ever so slightly; those Roman Candles were almost lethal, but it seems your extremities could revive me even after death. You'd trigger static and sparks that would light up my eyes and leave a tingling sensation through every limb. I don't know what you did, my dear - you materialized me - made me inanimate just by your touch, only awakened by the currents you transferred through your palms. It's as if I were a light bulb, plugged in forevermore in the socket of your grip. You were electricity, darling, and I was water; my voltaic shock was inevitable. You were fire and a sweet, sweet tempting bomb of affection I couldn't resist -                         tick,                                  tick,                                           tick,                                                     tock. With all that energy we were bound to burn out. But, in some attempt of insanity, you reached for my hand today and I swore I saw those sparks start to pour out of your fingers once again. And I almost reached out, drawn in by the flare and ready for the charge to hit me like a murderer's bullet almost but instead, I flinched. - g.d.
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Voltaic.
Your touch used to feel like lightning; igniting my entire body as if it were christmas lights you meant to wrap around the entire world. Your fingertips followed dance routines on my arms, leaving behind a path of hot embers right down to my thighs. You set off fireworks in my chest the moment our skin brushed against each other's ever so slightly; those Roman Candles were almost lethal, but it seems your extremities could revive me even after death. You'd trigger static and sparks that would light up my eyes and leave a tingling sensation through every limb. I don't know what you did, my dear - you materialized me - made me inanimate just by your touch, only awakened by the currents you transferred through your palms. It's as if I were a light bulb, plugged in forevermore in the socket of your grip. You were electricity, darling, and I was water; my voltaic shock was inevitable. You were fire and a sweet, sweet tempting bomb of affection I couldn't resist -                         tick,                                  tick,                                           tick,                                                     tock. With all that energy we were bound to burn out. But, in some attempt of insanity, you reached for my hand today and I swore I saw those sparks start to pour out of your fingers once again. And I almost reached out, drawn in by the flare and ready for the charge to hit me like a murderer's bullet almost but instead, I flinched. - g.d.
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31
Bring me your tired souls, Of flesh burned Marked limbs with numbers, Age is nothing to me. Still thy beating heart Your song trembles, Words of melody Writes thy voice. To thee a single petal Of motionless thought, Coalesce into thine mind, You are the one. Surging distress, Lament one’s dying love. For thy heart beckons It’s hymn to me. Indulge thyself Into the sea. Searching for love’s True self.
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May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Voltaic Melody of Soul
Lacking imperfection his un illuminating yarn woven secrets speak spilling silt that doesn’t even exist. Inseperable the meta voltaic charged touch of her skin against his blemished soul leaving behind marks of polyphony with staccatos hanging by a pine, gathering gusts of wind and rocking his unsteady soul on the swing set into a leap into the depths of the blue oceanic sky and diving deep into her love that binds him together forever more. Ever again her calming wind shakes up the roots of the evergreen trees in the movable earth of his body.
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Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
Lackluster.
in the afternoon we chew our pills, sweating the backs of knees, armpits, blessed the skittering of grass on down-brushed shins. pulsing behind our eyes, weeping the veins, shuddering the voltaic nerves. god, the excedrin.
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Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
photophobia in summer '24
His voltaic caress courses through me As his fingers bloomed into flowers And his breath a soft breeze on my skin. His voltage electrocuted me My confidence amplified as the words Rolling off his lips Found my ear And charged my veins When it reached my heart. Skin on skin like no other magnetism A breathlesss sensation From such an opulence of love. His true electricity so overwhelmingly paralyzing So overwhelming that my desire Had devoted to hydrating itself Under the waterfall of his affection, His current perilous but phenomenal As it coursed through my liquid love. And no other contingency could execute The inadequacy and animosity I held from myself For the lightning that struck from his heart And radiated from his hands Convinced me otherwise. A galvanism so tremendous Emitting when the crevice of his lips Closed around my neck And up to the roses blossoming from my face Igniting A spark.
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May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
Electricity
Ignis fatuus reverie Vigil me in mine torpor Douse me in voltaic lava Be mine mi amour' Facade me in thy fancy Include me in thy life For a king I'm trying to hand thou For a queen to be mine wife!!! Compose me to mine worries **** this juice up off mine tongue Where honey bees and huckleberry Floweth well, And wherein dry doth not run!! Garb me in the coffin Observe the beast I am Unslave me from mine shackles Say I do, I'll say I'm your man!!
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
calme mélodique ( melodic composure) french tongue!!
Breathless You too could see That this heart isn't your playground Even though you promised Are you safe? Are you loved? Your environment Has taken care of you And you speak You speak only as you know how Surrounded in the amphitheater Amongst the friends and foes I am not there But I'm on my way To your corroded memory The gutted consciousness that is your mind Night after night of questions Left me unable to answer your repose Tranquility A source foreign and fragile to me Never made voltaic by the moonlight
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
Brewing Cosmos
I have fashioned myself a cosseting nest of denial to protect me from my earnest yearnings. I sit atop my stoop in cavalier crusted pessimism lobing over stones at the passing pedestrians enraptured with the bliss of romance. "rigamarole dimwitted **** I huff as I examine the fluidity of their movement. They bob along as two flocculent clouds set agog. Such dulcified fools; they see their lovers lips brimming with nectar and skin dashed with gold. "Such farcical magic musings, who needs such things?" ; I question rustling in my scathing bed of delusion. One day I awoke to see a frenzied nest stationed next to me with a peculiarly pristine fellow bellowing. The days following my eyes were deterred from ogling at the lovebirds beneath me as they grew curiously closer to the voltaic man vexing me. He didn't pass his hours feeding from the disdain and self deprecating disarray, instead he perched giddily reading books and pacing incessantly.   This mans marrow doesn't reek of lovers idealism, but his eyes lift a veil to show me utter perfection. Owning the vessel he inhabits he doesn't allow room for preposterous inhibitions. As he unrobes to show me the mind wrinkles fueling his insanity, I began to wonder if his lips are coated in the same sugar doused divinity. As his hands gingerly caress mine, I decide to retire my stones, It seems about time I let myself learn to float.
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC
float
This dimension of living is endlessly shrouded in mystery. We are the midwives to our own platform of living and we have the authority to liquidate it and start upon a new tier at any moment. I know but only what my eyes have unrobed to show me. All around us isolated winsome lives of their own fabric and hemming are kerneled into the crust of our worlds existence. We are so distinctly separate yet intrinsically connected. We tend to weave our lives in a way to circumvent the albatross that is free-floating and searching for a host. It is so simple to sector yourself away from the things that pose fluster to your character. But we infallibly need each other, we must uncloak ourselves from the throttling labels. Once you make peace with the construction of this world you are unfettered and free. All of these sumptuous luminescent minds quarantined away serve no good. Live your life with decorum and ease and let this light scintillate to invigorate others. This revolution is not rooted in vociferous speeches and affronts, but by merely emitting your unadulterated authentic self. Excavate yourself of the toxic of society and you will become the voltaic entity. Make haimish comfort with the idea of uncertainty and live life simplistically.
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Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Unknown
you told me of who created the cosmos heaven, earth, both with no breath lost his right man born 'tween stone worshippers his teachings bores wisdom within touch my head on this earth for You at least 5 times a day, help my brothers and sisters of god to be a good man, what if I only did the latter and also to those who don't believe in You does it really matter? the address the prayers point to? but it did to you, mom ordained since birth in His ways to be good, first and foremost and I did, just wasn't in His ways so it's not a detriment, to you but a commitment, to me to be good in spite of it and a compliment, to us so know you did well so much so that, I catch myself thinking, if even He, thinks I'm good too.
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Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 3:39 AM UTC
Voltaic Confession
Brush fire, feverish fervor drowned. Hands cup my face, fingers coil around loose tendrils, lips plunge into cold water immersion. Heart stops, voltaic pulses converge, burst avidity. Can't stop. False affection, eidolon. Mouth sewn, pushed under, yearned for truth. Thinking about you. Eyes wide open, phantom tether grasp unto nothing. All becomes dust.
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Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
Hypothermia
Crestfallen gaze allures the man of wicked ways Two broken halves & hearts magnetized to the burn of the flame Oh, What a shame The voltaic fire soon shall bring an enticing zing & heart of gold will no longer sing
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Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
Crestfallen gaze