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Liz  Jan 2015
Poor Yorick!
Liz Jan 2015
"Poor Yorick!",
His soul is saved.
Safe and sound,
In cold unbeing.

Cold unbeing,
For whom I am so hungry.
It's bitter tundra will fill me,
But my fire won't go out.

The burning won't stop,
And my ashes only gather.
There's something very wrong,
With a blistering winter.

Oh Yorick,
I envy.
Your sleep is undisturbed;
Where I am only tired.

You are bones,
And King Hamlet is a ghost.  
Floating like him and stagnant as you,
I cannot rest.

My sleep is disturbed.
Like the king, I can't find peace.
But like Yorick,
I am hollowed bones.
LOVE, HATE, WISDOM, FEAR, WEALTH… KEYS MANY ARE TO LIFE IT’S SAID
NONE IN BIRTH IS AFRAID,WISE,HATEFUL,GREEDY,NONE SHALL BE SO IN DEATH.
LIFE! ITS A NOW,A PRESENT CONTINUOUS,DIES HERE THE PAST,A FUTURE BORN
NOW,A SUM TOTAL OF PAST,FUTURE AN EQUATION INEXORABLE FROM HEREON.
FUTILE IS FUTURE MIRRORING PAST, AWARENESS MY PRIMER FOR A CHANGE FAST.  
WHEN ALIVE ARE HEARTS PUMPING,WHY ARE MINDS AND SOULS DEAD BARREN?
ISN'T HEART THE GOOD EARTH ALWAYS AND MIND THE TREE WISE OF BANYAN?
I RID THE DISCONNECT, BY GRACE, HAVE A MINDFUL HEART, A HEARTFELT MIND!
LIVING THE STAID REALITY OF LIFE, LOVING, HATING, THINKING, BEING WISE,FOOLISH
KILLING, FORGIVING, PHILOSOPHICAL IN A CRUELLY KIND WORLD OF PARADOX.
IS THERE A REALITY DEVOID, OF LIFE AND DEATH, LOVE AND HATE, GOD AND RELIGION,
OR TRUTHS,LIES, TIME-SPACE,SOUNDS AND SILENCE,EQUANIMOUS PEACE AT WAR?
IS IT JUST A PLAY, OF THE MIND AND HEART, DESIRE AND POWER,******* UNREAL?
GOOD VERSUS EVIL?
I LIVE BY THE HEART,IT DOES STOP AND THE MIND,OH DOES IT ROT!
UNFEELING HEARTS AND UNTHINKING MINDS, THESE BARRIERS SLOWLY I CROSS,
BEYOND IS THE BEING, THE EXISTING, INCAPABLE OF THE UNREAL, DIVINELY AFAR,
A VOID SURREAL,UNFEELING YET KIND SOMEHOW, UNLOVING YET CARING SOMEHOW
UNSAD, UNJOYOUS, UNAFRAID, UNWORLDLY...ATTRIBUTES NONE AT ALL! UNBEING??
I KNOW NOT IF IT’S GOOD OR EVIL, IS JUST UNBEING,UNAFFECTED BETTER SOMEHOW?
IS THE FREE UNBEING THERE,JUST TOTALLY BEING HERE?! BACK TO A REALITY RELATIVE!
GREYS ARE MANY, IF DARK BE HATE AND BE LIGHT LOVE, MID-GREY IS THE WORLD, HOPE CAN MOVE!
FROM THE MOUNTAINS DOWN I CLIMB, JUST, WITH PRECIOUS BAGGAGE, UNPACKED TO MAKE SENSE,
OF THE REAL IN THE UNREAL,THIS ONE WORLD IN INFINITY, WITH  ITS ANGELS AND DEMONS,
I CHOOSE TO LIVE WITH REALITY; AND UNRAVEL JUSTLY; ELSE IT COMES LIVES WITH ME ANYWAYS!
OR IS IT ALL JUST INEVITABLY INEXORABLE, JUST A HERMITS DESTINY?!
Dark lover  Jul 2023
Twisted...
Dark lover Jul 2023
It's well even in the land of well..
It's well even in the kingdom of well ..
It's all garbage in garbage out all from garbage . Just like the name, the thoughts of many are, like in most.. it's garbage to those  in the same vibration but below exceptions makes it seem godly and magnificent.
I wish.
I understood.
things, words, language the fingers  scribes some times...
Trying to make sense but making nonsense, ha, I get it, sense takes one third of nonsense,
twisted for the disabled.
It's just too twisted for the disabled but not for the ables.
Twisted.......
Books..
Twisted..
Poems...
Twisted....
Beli­eves.
Twisted...
Unending....
Twisted scientists making clones..
Twister...
Imagination...
Twisted..
Flexibility...
Twist­ed..
So they say...
Anxious..
So they feel..
Unbearable.
So they remain...
Twisted it is and twisted it will be..
Cause, it's believed that twisted is for the unbeing..
It's the outwordly.
It's the unreal..
Few escapes, the fews that grasp twisted and make it a friend and a guardian..
A partner and a mentor...
Hence they sleep with twisted..
Pray with twisted..
Worship twisted..
Eat with twisted..
Eats twisted..
Marry twisted..
Bond twisted
And starts delivering twisted babies.. everything rolls down with the understanding of twisted..
Never could end this infinite theorem.. cause the source is twisted and twisted is goodness and goodness is in all but all isn't in goodness...
Even fates are twisted..
Cause our fates are being changed in per second not discovered yet but now or soon..
By the
Steps taken...
Choices made...
Thoughts expressed.
Thoughts conceived..
Conceived, oh, I remember a line in one of the forgeten books of agony..
Agony in processes.
Agony in delivery..
Once again twisted it is.
Sense is one third of nonsense..
Wakeup...
Days are very slim here and nights are very colossal..
So awaken and prepare, for the rainy days might seem no end.
Drought might be handy.
Sorrow might be arrowed through the heart.
Preparedness toughens and Patience exonerate..
Patience can be twisted with weakness, it's okay, Patience is weakness to the extent that weakness compels strength....
That's the TWIST..
Many fight to distance weakness yet run after strength but never realize that strength is the shadow to weakness.
Shoma morita's..
Embrace with..
Accept it..
Adopt it..
But never tolerate it from the weak..
Else excuses will be made from it.
Procrastination will be fashioned.
And discouragement will be manifested..
Manifestation..
The resulting culmination of things..
Things precipitated by TWISTED...
Now Wakeup.

It's well even in the land of well..
It's well even in the kingdom of well ..
It's all garbage in garbage out all from garbage . Just like the name, the thoughts of many are, like in most.. it's garbage to those  in the same vibration but below exceptions makes it seem godly and magnificent.
I wish.
I understood the things, words, language the fingers  scribes some times...
Trying to make sense but making nonsense, ha, I get it, sense takes one third of nonsense,
twisted for the disabled.
It's just too twisted for the disabled but not for the ables.
Twisted.......
Books..
Twisted..
Poems...
Twisted....
Beli­eves.
Twisted...
Unending....
Twisted scientists making clones..
Twister...
Imagination...
Twisted..
Flexibility...
Twist­ed..
So they say...
Anxious..
So they feel..
Unbearable.
So they remain...
Twisted it is and twisted it will be..
Cause, it's believed that twisted is for the unbeing..
Is the outwordly.
Is the unreal..
Escapes.
Few escapes, the fews that grasp twisted and make it a friend and a guardian..
A partner and a mentor...
Hence they sleep with twisted..
Pray with twisted..
Worship twisted..
Eat with twisted..
Eats twisted..
Marry twisted..
Bond twisted
And starts delivering twisted babies.. everything rolls down with the understanding of twisted..
Never could end this infinite theorem.. cause the source is twisted and twisted is goodness and goodness is in all but all isn't in goodness...
Even fates are twisted..
Cause our fates are being changed in per second not discovered yet but now or soon..
By
Steps taken...
Choices made...
Thoughts expressed.
Thoughts conceived..
Conceived, oh, I remember a line in one of the forgeten books of agony..
Agony in processes.
Agony in delivery..
Once again twisted it is.
Sense is one third of nonsense..
Wakeup...
Days are very slim here and nights are very colossal..
So awaken and prepare, for the rainy days might seem no end.
Drought might be handy.
Sorrow might be arrowed through the heart.
Preparedness toughens and Patience exonerate..
Patience can be twisted with weakness, it's okay, Patience is weakness to the extent that weakness compels strength....
That's the TWIST..
Many fight to distance weakness yet run after strength but never realize that strength is the shadow to weakness.
Shoma morita's..
Embrace with..
Accept it..
Adopt it..
But never tolerate it from the weak..
Else, excuses will be made from it.
Procrastination will be fashioned.
And discouragement will be manifested..
Manifestation..
The resulting culmination of things..
Things precipitated by TWISTED...
Now Wakeup.
Twisted inspired,   live is twisted  and only the twisted enjoys it.
Palcion and Ratisbon stood amidst eachother forever-
the father of being and the bringer of non-being stood
And as they stood, time and her efforts in vain, they she could not weather
Palcion and Retisbon looked upon the first to move between them
named the consequence of being and unbeing- Abro, meaning passage
Abro could topple walls and reduce mountains, all while light as a feather

Abro was not the mother of peace, nor the maiden of chaos-
The former was Ritacene- daughter of Palcion, whom he named after his brother
The latter was Phalgacene, daughter of Retisbon, who named her after the other
Abro was the steed of Phalgacene, who pulled her chariots and made her spears fly
Abro was also the bull of Ritacene, who plowed her fields and grew her wheat
And when the sisters argued, Abro would sit between them and wait, and stare at the sky

Abro would count the faces of the sky, and found the sky to be beautiful
‘I am Chazan- servant of Palcion and Retisbon,'’ the sky said. ‘I carry the weight of them both”
‘I am Abro- the eldest of the goddesses Ritacene and Phalgacene’ she told him
‘You are such a strong and fair woman,’ Chazan said. ‘To keep your youngers from conflict’
‘I do no such thing’ said Abro. ‘They are twins, and as above, they are as two as they are one’
‘They, like their fathers, are two faces of one disk-’ she went on ‘and so conflict they do not risk’

‘And you Chazan?’ Abro asked him. ‘What of you, and why above all made but below makers?’
‘I am the throne of the creator of creators and destroyer of destroyers’ he said to Abro.
‘I conceal the made from their maker and the maker from what they’ve made’ he went on
‘I hide the destruction from their destroyer- I herald the light of being and death’s shade.’
‘I find you beautiful-’ said Abro. ‘What say you to be my groom? What say you I be your bride?’
And in that, the swords of Phalgacene glowed bright, and Ritacene’s crops began to die

Chazan’s hair began to grow short and loose, and the face of the sky burst into flames
The air began to heat and the sky’s blue began to lighten- Chazan’s skin became like glass
Abro saw Chazan- his skin pink, orange, green, and cerulean- his two eyes, the sun and moon
‘You lie to me, Abro-’ he said aloud. ‘How can you say I'm beautiful when this is what I am?’
‘Everchanging, ever new- I will shed a thousand skins, but you will still be you’ he told Abro.
‘How can you have a husband, whose faces change, and whose memory of you with it fades?’

And so, Abro stood, and faced the sky. Her legs began to grow tired, and so she went away.
Chazan, seeing this, fell into misery. The sky darkened and the the winds blew strong
The fields of Ritacene were reduced to lakes of mud, while rust grew on Phalgacen’s wheels
Chazan was in tears. His hair grew long and wispy and from them- water crashed into the earth
Then Abro returned, with the beast Malzaphaiatan- whom she borrowed from her sisters
Malzaphaiatan was a beast that plowed fields and pulled chariots and on it, Abro sat and waited

Abro’s sisters made more of these beasts, and soon their numbers would become the land
They’re backs fertile and their stampedes would causes quakes, but upon them Abro sat
Abro sat and waited for Chazan to calm down- and upon Malzaphaiatan she would wait
Chazan, upon seeing Abro, lightened and was delighted. “You have returned! I am elated!‘
He ran through the sky and to the ground at such speed, which created lighting and thunder
He ran to hold Abor and lay with her on Malzaphaiatan- and in their bliss was born Spring.

Chazan would soon change face again- and the air began to heat and the sky would lighten
The glow of Phalgacene’s metal and the drooping of Ritacene’s plants all heralded one thing-
“Abro’s lover was angry.” in his rage, he remembered Abro not, and so Abro stood and went.
She borrowed Zapharagaz from her sisters- a steed of of great speed- delicate and deadly
Zapharagaz carried Phalgacene’s navy, and fed the fields and water wheels of Ritacene
Abro drove Zapharagaz across the herds of Malzaphaiatan so that Chazan may drink

Across the backs of the herds, she carved waterways, canals, and cisterns with Zapharagaz
The tracks of Zapharagaz made rivers and from the places it rested, were oceans and lakes
Abro made a chalice from clouds and gave it to her lover Chazan to drink- and he was calmed
This face of Chazan knew Abro not- but found her beautiful. ‘Be my bride, oh Lady of Time!’
‘Be my bride and this entire kingdom of fire and light shall be as yours as it is mine!’
‘I shall be your bride, and you shall be my groom!’ and so they lay together and bore Summer

Chazan would not change face again, and his memory of Abro would persist, yet he was sad.
‘Abro, my love- Queen of the Sky as I am its King; does it not hurt when I forget you at times?’
‘Chazan, my love- King of the sky who made me its queen; I love you and all your faces.’
‘How could you? What if I forget you in those faces? What would become of us and of life?’
‘I will still love you’ she said. ‘And each of your faces, what face may come, will call me its wife’
And so in a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, Chazan used the sun and breeze on the land

He took the Clouds away, but stunted the heat of the sun. He dried the leaves of Ritacene-
He put the soldiers of Phalgacene to rest and told them to return to their wives and families
He blew across the sea and into land to create the first wind and waves, and so he began
And so with a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, the harvest began and produce came
Upon the backs of the herd- Chazan painted a golden portrait of Abro, and it was beautiful
And so in a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, the two lay once more and bore Autumn

As Abro awoke, she found her husband away from her embrace. Chazan was not away though.
Chazan could simply not be seen. Droplets of hard, cold water fell on Abro’s hands. They spelt:
‘Who are you? I am Chazan, king of the sky. Who are you, why are you here?’ said the snow.
‘I am Abro, Lady of Time, first daughter of the twin Kings of Creation and Destruction’ she said.
‘I am the eldest child of Palcion and Retisbon. I am the eldest to Ritacene- goddess of order’
‘And of Phalgacene- goddess of chaos.’ she boasted. ‘You are in the presence of the gods’

‘You were drunk, and in your stupor, took me to your bed.’ Abro wanted to know what he’d say.
‘Forgive me! I am king of the sky, but humble servant first to the Twin Kings- how do I repent? ’
‘You shall have to wed me! For we shall both be punished if the Twins find out!’ Abro told him.
Abro, despite her love for Chazan, wanted to be wed. And so, the king of the sky wed her.
Chazan froze the waters for them to walk on and donned the land white in snow- as did Abro
Ordained as husband and wife by the twin gods, Chazan and Abro were wed- and bore Winter.

The children of Chazan and Abro would be the essence of the seasons who played together-
Spring, the fastest and most beautiful of the siblings, ran ahead of her brothers and sisters-
Summer, the strongest but largest, ran behind Spring, but could not catch up to her however
Autumn came next and often called for Winter, and came to soothe Summer of his blisters
Winter- however, walked and did not run. He carried with him coal, which he marked with.
Soon, he would not run at all. He would sit and wait like Abro, and forget to run like Chazan

This is why the Spring is so well loved, yet feels as if it passes too fast and too quickly at times
And why Summer is so hot, yet most of the work must be done under its heat and weather
And why Autumn brings peace, and in its golden banquet bring good food, harvests, and wine
And why Winter and all its snow, darkness, coldness and blight seems to drag on forever
And yet in Winter, the only well that does not freeze over is the well that draws forth black ink
And so the myth of seasons finds its Author in the hands of the cold. Behold- the Song of Winter
the myth of the seasons, the story of the lady of time and the king of the sky, and the twin goddesses of order and chaos found the Epic of Ioleksa

this is the second part of the first analects of winter
Silence after words,futility after actions
emptiness after thoughts,indifference after loves
desolation after joys,destruction after creations
death after lives,truth after lies,being after unbeing
peace after wars,ignorance after knowledge
pains after pleasures,nirvanas after samsara,
nothing after everything,and all so ****** vice-versa!
M Clement Mar 2013
Becoming what I'm not
And who I am isn't who I am
But might be a mixture of both being
and unbeing

Celestial lack of knowledge
Becoming learned by lack of sense
Watching birds on the porch
Pay the family recompense

Walking in a wheelchair
Aborted walk the earth alive
Amish on cellphones
There's something wrong, here.
I've never written a line that I've disliked more that "Aborted walk the earth alive". That being said, I'm not going to change it.
Sputter Outlaw Mar 2014
Feverish to the state of unbeing.
My wish is to evince green natured sublimity.
My love waits for one moment between
A valley between peaks
Mt. Adore, Mt. Deplore
Where every pocket of my immediate surroundings
Pulses it’s rhythmic truth
Rattles my sensation
Rattles of co-corporalisation to the tips of my nerve
Till my chest sinks or swallows or something
Till I literally gasp before the miracle of the Air
Till I phase out.
Till next time.
The hum drums on
Colm Jun 2022
No Man or intuition
Can see more than a day or two
Into her dream
Not weeks or months or years to spend
Instead all they think of is
"Wouldn't it be nice if"
Boxing Poems . 8
hidden galaxy Mar 2019
people ask me if my brain has started rewriting itself
If my consciousness expanded to take up the space left behind in these two months of rapid decline
Maybe in the week my eye has refused to read street signs and text messages

I am asked If I start hearing people’s locations as my sight slips further out of my reach
as if this is a neotech drama about self awareness and I am Neo
I just need to wake up, take a pill and I will harness the Matrix

more aware of my lost ness of my smallness
Of how I am I insignificant and absorbed into the collective strangeness of a crowd

It is not a different kind of light or of seeing but a falling darkness and sensing things in the night, when bats are flying low and recklessly close. When I feel the current swell around me as the unknown let’s me escape in previously grandfathered ignorance.

Tonight I am not ignorant. I am looking at a blank and dismal map. It is not filled in in the slightest.
I am rust and berry pulsing within a thick cracked skin in a sea of unbeing, only aware of where I touch the raw, colorless, and endless universe
Intensely attenuated to my body curled in fetal position
against the thickest nothing I have ever encountered.

like a slumbering geode
Filled with colorful secrets
Poised to bloom
I wait
But rocks sleep forever
Satsih Verma Nov 2018
Eyeing the pale moon
I will grace the path
of neutrality.

Piercing red
a current pulses through
the vacant eyes.

You always
curl the lips to remain unsaid
about the embrace of fire.

Conversing with
the waterfall, you forget
that you were standing on edge.

Invisible undercurrents
have a ritual. They appear like
glazed cleavers when there
is no crowd of thoughts.

Like indigo child you
extend the purple hands
to heal the bruised ego.
RA  Feb 2014
I miss you
RA Feb 2014
There's always this stage, later on
after you have realized that you
actually can live without
this person, though it is a continuing
source of pain. At this point, everything
you were so scared of saying
for those long many months, somehow
has been said. You both know
how much you mean together, how
your conversations will go, what
the subtext clearly says, though not
said clearly. I know you miss
me, just as much as I continuously
miss you. After some point, I will know
you love me just as much as I
will try to show you how much I love
you, though I didn't believe it before and
I couldn't tell you so for old fears.
At this point, the wound of you
not being here will start to scab
over. The very essence of your unbeing
in my presence will dictate that you
cannot heal me, that I must live
with this pain and your vacancy. I will not
tell you I miss you, taking a knife
to my healing holes. Against my will,
I am pulling back. After the thrill
of "I miss you" has worn off, it only
brings pain with every utterance. I miss
you, I miss you I miss you I
miss you, and you are missing so profoundly
the very air around me sings
of your absence, whistling through emptinesses
that echo the ones inside. But sometimes
I would rather not remember
that you are missing.
February 17, 2014
5:25 PM
     edited February 23, 2014
        I think this might be a spoken-word poem

— The End —