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basil Feb 2021
your mother tongue never needed to distinguish between
house and home
i miss you every day, maria </3
O plimbare cu tine sub cer deschis
În timp ce drumul nostru de mai jos sa bazează pe stimă

Când mă privești cu ochii tăi de Egee
Simt căldura ta îmi influențează visele

Un sfert de secundă a fost tot ce a fost nevoie
Să știu că nu aș fi niciodată la fel

Începând această călătorie, o nouă pagina pentru cartea noastră
Pentru că deocamdată va rămâne doar seninătatea
////
A walk with you under open skies,
As a path below rests in august esteem.

When you look at me with those Aegean eyes,
I can feel your warmth influence my dreams.

A quarter of a second was all it took
To know I’d no longer be the same

Beginning this journey, a new page in our book
Because for now, only serenity will remain.
Romanian.
Chad Young Jan 2021
Numbers are arbitrary in a system that doesn't allow diversity.
The dream world - no,
As the universe as one body, it is beyond specialization, yet there are all specializations.
It is arbitrary to define something. What is, is.
The senses perceive it.
All language is a dormant faculty in meditation.
In fact, all senses are dormant faculties in meditation.

What's left is a doubt to need progress.
The head is held in vacua awaiting a placement from a source beyond the Self.
In meditation the head is as a ****** allowing the environment to enter it.
Progress graduates as a straight back -- free.

The deepest meditation is devoid of life.
I will not give up my meditation for any social undertaking, or any entertainment.
I leave my seat to relieve myself or to take up water, food, or a cigarette.
I become weary of stranger, friend, or family.
My heart has no capacity for interaction beyond silence.
The very esteem of any other man, I shrink from.
The very gaze of any woman, I am anxious of.
Animals laugh at my awkwardness.
My own groin, I am apprehensive of its use.
I do not wish to face my reflection in a mirror.
But what else is there but timid eyes?
Kingdom in Kingdom.

The heat from the vent keeping it 67 degrees is as a bath in the most royal palace.
Pain pulverizes me.
Contemplation
Oceanul a fost creat pentru noi
Norii ne-au copiat lacrimile, și au cântat.
Pașii noștri au răsunat bătăile inimii Pământului
În timp ce mergeam de-a lungul țărmurilor sale de toamnă
Și chiar și atunci când ne îmbrățișăm
Am nevoie so fii mult mai aproape
/////
The ocean was made created for us
Clouds copied our tears and sang along.
Our footsteps echoed the Earth's heartbeat
As we walked along its autumnal shores
And even when we embrace,
I need you so much closer.
My first poem in Romanian.
- Jan 2021
All language is euphemism.
We seek to convey our senses and intuitions
But cannot achieve this with words.
Every thing real is abstract,
And every thing simple is a farce.
A bastardization of reality which seeks to
Force a mass of energy into an envelope and
Send it away with insufficient postage.

We are desperate to be understood,
To communicate our reality,
To achieve our natural unity as
Lifeforms, forcing language to
Mean something particular
And devoting our lives to that method
Of exacting.

Language is the tragedy of human existence.
It gawks at us and splinters our already rugged tongues
With unmentionable tones, vibrations, and guttural utterances
Engendering a cacophony of false synchronicity.

We are left with a sense of profound emptiness
And alienation, setting pieces in opposition to each other,
and defining them by their self-imposed tensions.
The false sense of our clan, the necessity for an enemy.
We are left with a world riddled in misunderstanding and
Conflict.
Dante Rocío Jan 2021
The purest sexuality is not being
left excited by one’s ******
like a forbidden fruit
or found
in metaphors
via
allusions
of one’s wild
aphrodisiac breath
or resembling it phones/melody
during ******* in the bed;

it is the moment of philias
and events
that leave you finitely burnt from the inside, reforming
you and leaving you anew
for burning again

And humans aren’t its source

they’re just its vessel.

Just like poems kiss knowing:
no lips in flesh will be able to replace them for you.

The same goes with the choice of a human language
till we’re still
here.
On relationship with the carnal ceremonies that can transcend only once they let go of the ground and your nervous system pleased constantly. Example being experiencing Arabic in sound in the dark with no one to witness you being decomposed by the tangerine passion within it more than skin's stimulation could give
Amanda Hawk Jan 2021
Love, an elusive language
Spoken clumsily from my tongue
Unsteady are these words
I look for guidance
In the soft tone of your voice
My emotions clamor inside
Waves, ebbing back and forth
Compromises are subtle sometimes
Like slipping my fingers
In your hand
Rea Jan 2021
With each tear, a memory of us blooms in my mind's eye.
The pink-purple of the sky blending into your eyes,
until I couldn't tell
where You ended
and the World began.
Maybe there's not even a difference.
Just the same words speaking in different languages.
This is me trying.
Evan Stephens Jan 2021
Language ends here -
in the hazel of her,
in uncountable sleeps,
in a bundling of sun,
in a resonance,
a stray violin.
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