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M Harris Feb 2017
There was a time,
A time so fair,
A zero despair,
Cuz She was fair,
Life as I knew it was drizzling daisies,
Bleeding me the feel like the crazies.

Perfect absolutes,
Chimerical dilutes.

Enchanting moments with ephemeral bliss,
Rapt me into blissful abyss.

Ambient lightnings,
Forming supernova sightings.

My soul trapped in her seductive high,
Unknowing of her destructive lies.

Little was I was aware of her two-tone design,
My ****** Valentine
An alter ego so divine.

Demon with deceitful frames,
Unravelling her intimacy games.

Her bloodless lips whispering in the corridors of time,
Deporting me into her hate grimes.

Mutating into odium of torrential far cry,
Lies sarcastrophic podium of her mislaid demise.

Gagged and bound as me you broke down
And I believed everything,
As my love for you was logic drowned
Round and round I emanated all the way down.

Still submerged in the swamp of dummy beliefs,
Hoping to heal with concealed appeals,
Squeals of her feels reveal choking ordeals,

Cuz it was a different belief in a veiled inception,
Infinitely drowning with these unconcealed dogmas,
Remembrance feels like a past from yesterday,
All I am choked with are these Interstellar beliefs,

Detonating memories,
At the haste of light,
Giving me an anguish fright from the down right,
Corroding my heart with those Sulphur memories we once called a lifetime.
Like those 4 years with 4 million considerations.

Still lost in her maze of psychopathic daze,
Downward spirals decayed & set ablaze.
Reveries of her infinite sentiment once called transcendences.

All that’s left now are your radioactive reminiscences,
Of a place once called Tomorrowland.
As soon as you make something seem terrible,
it becomes
slightly terrible.

Someone could be using that very something in a good way,
but as soon as someone comes up with a bad way it could be used,
that thing becomes tainted by thought.

Those people ignore the good in that thing,
and imagine a bad future with it,
creating a taboo that is almost inescapable.

Our thoughts create our future.
Give things a chance.
Think positive.

The future is in our hands.
It is also in the hands of bad people.
We must coexist and cease blame on things.
I have been all of them...

So,
how could they shock me?
and
how could I not understand them?

They are me
from the past -
this is for certain,

but am I them
from the future?
This is unknown,

and most likely, unlikely.
If you are a rainbow,
show the world all of your colors,
not just one of them
for your entire lifetime,
when you have so much more to offer.
Christian Bixler Jan 2017
Winged flight;
souls yearning.
Journey
into the far
places, into the
deep places,
of the sacred
heart; myself
but one
of many.
Beautiful thoughts...beautiful world.
Lunar Oct 2016
i formed constellations on your face
with every point that my lips touched
and i ended with your eyelids
which opened up to me
and i saw the stars

so i came to realize
that neither astronomy or astrology
can explain how much i love you
i held the entire universe
when i held you close in my arms
this is one of my favorites from the Pocketry Series. it started with the "kissing eyelids are cute" kind of idea, and it flowed from there. i always try to look for the stars in everyone's eyes.

8/13 of the Pocketry Series.
K Balachandran Oct 2016
To me she clearly sounds more
like a joyful bamboo thicket,
the only pet of this gentle breeze,
swaying in self abandonment.

Holding her  just a heart beat away
I could hear my heart's wonder,
"Haven't her whispered words allude
on something really profound, effulgent,
beyond the realm of both life and death?"

"Sing that lullaby, I identify you with
when our kids were young, instead.
It's indeed perfect as a fine spring board
to fly past the net, time has spread" I said
"Landing gently in that dream space
of permanent twilight, defying death"
Timeless quality of moving lullabies to melt self and touch transcendence.
spysgrandson Sep 2016
from her window she could see
the shells of buildings the bombs battered--gray concrete
ghosts, haunting in their silence

Father said his ears
hadn't stopped ringing since the attacks, though he still
could hear her playing

and he expected her practice to continue
for one day, he promised, prayers would prevail, peace
would return, and her song would be heard

play, he entreated, for ivory, black
and white, has forgotten the evil of men, their carnage;
the notes know nothing except to be played

and to give pause for hope, when
more trenchant sounds demanded one’s attention,
still the song must remain
Aleppo, December 2014
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