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I
Parting from the golden tinge that tears the azimuth
The red orb descends into the vast blue
Infuses a consortium of colors immaculately blend, an interlude
Between the morn, and the night that has to brew

A stillness engulfs the trees, the night dawns
The last rays sieved by the green leaves, swivel through
Escape from the small pockets, shimmering, marking their finale
Afraid from his embrace, light the path in lieu

Amongst the drowned colors of the night, he moves
Trampling the undergrowth, merging into singleton
And though his destination's vague, for others he carves a path
Follows the constant ire, within his heart that burns

And this began years ago, roots unclear
When fingers hadn't yet gained freedom from flesh
And a luring innocence emanated from within
Cuddled in his mother's ***** he rest

From a bedlam of impetuous thoughts arose
A symphony both bitter and sweet
Ridden with memories, some wounds and falls
An overture of edification he knead

Though the day he learnt to tame
In the dark velvet, white jewels they shined
A servitude of the dreams, trapped awaiting emancipation
He set them free, let them touch the open skies

Taught and steered by the ethereal sun
He embarked on a voyage into the unknown
Trying to steer into the path, nebulous that lay
Though comrades there were, he vanguard all alone

II
The patter on the leaves beseech him from the trance
As the faint drizzle makes its way through
The carved lines on his face that hide deep within
Underneath this hardened countenance, a figure unblemished, raw and ****

And then he sees Nature unleash itself
Her eyes gleaming red with rage
Irked by the persevering being that stands before
She vows to vanquish him failing the riddle she lays

"O fellow-being, I am Nature", she cries
"I have seen a myriad of men come this way
But few could pass, who could answer me correctly
Listen carefully O traveller to what I am about to say

Tales speak of a thing within with mysterious origins
Whose workings be elusive and indiscernible
But O my dear friend, it lays carefully hidden and though we can't see
It vivifies the moment, to make the next turn"

As her hair waves in an eccentric swipe
Like Hades from Hell, she tore
"Tell me what it is, for I forbid thee to go further
Answer wisely, so that I know that thy heart is naught but pure"

As he remains mesmerized, feet transfixed to the ground
The courage and valour he has loomed over so many years
Trickles down with the warmth and the cold sweeps in
As the bells ring, the symphony of the impending doom is loud and clear

The very earth beneath him quivers
With a thunder, as an eerie force pulls mountains apart
And these vestiges of time adorn and reflect
The cursed fire that ensues beneath the two halves

The covetous fires leap, advancing towards their prey
As the tumult above marks its arrival
With a crescendo, the storm imposes its anarchy
The clouds do its bidding, the skies they stifle

The exodus of the falling black rain
A blanket covering the sky, sheds out the light
The Satan's canvas anew, the impenetrable darkness pierces
Awaits the strokes that pervades the crimson into the night

As the mountains rise up, blot out the way
The vultures lay sprawled, their eyes, they shine
And these scavengers of death swoop down, sniffing, awaiting the moment
The hunger glistens in the pupils, today, to their appetite they dine

And he stumbles upon a rock and falls
As the storm vivified by the fire creates havoc
He lays exhausted, a numbed mind, though awake
And he witnesses it though the windows of his eyes that lifts his shock

Amongst the carcasses and the carrion strewn on the bloodied ground
Carrying the dead, the little creatures, ants, unaffected they stride
As they move on, compelled by an unfaltering force
Binding them, as they tread these dark knights

And he realises, what be these, these colossal clouds?
Intangible they may seem, it's the air we breathe, remain just misty shrouds
What be the mountains that stand on our lands?
Boulders they may be, remain just mounds of sand

Darkness never ceases unless one open the eyes
Like the wind only carries those who spread their wings
And the destination is never near until taken the first stride
Just as the tide only sails those who hold on to the mast's strings

Dreams shatter and hard blows we receive
Our eyelids close, wet waters they meet
But we look at the lily, from the depths of the murky waters, it rises
Basking, with a smile, the sun it greets

He speaks "Faith be the elusive power that exists within
Emphasises the goal in the turbulent times
Each human capable of it, umarked by religion or creed
Urges the torment laden heart to beat along", as Nature smiles

And with a single wave of her hand, it all vanishes
He stands before the place that his heart for eons has yearned
And the utopia unfolds as his dreams present themselves before him
And his eyes finally give way, to the tears he has for so long shunned

As he stands captivated, ebullient
Savouring each bit of the magnificent sight
The fresh fragrant air fills his nostrils, as he understands
It hasn't been the destination but the voyage he has prized

As a flock of birds chirrup their way through
And the wind toys with his hair, him they beckon
He smiles and with a lasting glimpse
He starts off again, for sleep has yet to come.
what is this love
for I have beheld it
cast in metamorphosis
a love that makes
transformations on the mind
permissible transformations
improvisations of the self
in ****** intensity
which emphasises the drama
of sometimes, dark, violent
and repressive potentials
vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment
of intense and exhausting experience
of vigorous vertiginous chaos
indomitable in its desires
what is this love
is it a registered predicament
made memorable by vivid language
that would butcher in ritual
gratuitous memories and testify
to an urgency of unwisely relinquished emotion
what is this love
does it flourish in flawed
and unreasonable understandings
accumulated upon the mind
in vicarious thrill of sympathy
where traits are highly exaggerated
and eagerly anticipates
the oppressive weight of the past
that functions upon a common collapse
of distinctions
or does it manufacture artificial precepts
pretending in attractive collaboration
to associate fiction rather than fact
what is this love
is it that by treaty or inheritance
with loving ferocity would embalm all tears
and hide all those collaborations
in flared conflagrations of the heart
and yes create a turmoil in the mind
hotter than a thousand summers
and vividly stamp upon a twisted body
a moral viciousness of fathomless malice
that wouldst close its ears
to the admonitions of conscious
and thus through an improbable
incantatory verbal rite
touch the hidden order of all things
in disassembling nature
what is this love
if only it was known
ChristinaS Jan 2014
When you lean in close to my ear and allow me to believe that I can trust you; that the words that will fall from your mouth like a liquid, fast and flowing will be precious and sacred, it is the definition of betrayal.

I pray that when I claim your threats do not scare me, I will cease to be terrified, but they jab at me, as a forked tongue would. I hear the hissing in my ear, which was at first a pleasant change from the persistent drone, but quickly became something much more painful. Where there should be a paternal love, I find a gaping hole. A hole that you and I constantly work to fill, like shady men in the night, hurriedly disposing of the evidence that could rob them of their freedom. Our relationship is a ***** secret.

Whilst I could be a rich girl living off sympathy alone, you have selfishly taken that right from me, in one swift and cunning move. With one forced smile - one ****** movement - that emphasises the creases in your forehead (which, I hear, though I struggle to remember, once kept me entertained for hours), you convince them that all is more than well.

Why pretend that your heart is heavy with pride if the word is not a part of your vocabulary? Why take to grinning if the upwards inching of the corners of your mouth is so unnatural of a feeling to you that it feels like a chore - uncomfortable and laborious?

These people have no care for your state of mind, nor do they care at all about your quality of life. Your time, surely, would be much better spent attending to your sick home than attending to your royal reputation that, when you consider what you have in reality, is worthless.

You bare to me the resemblance of a curious child whose dreamy head is filled with images of faraway lands, glittering treasures and sand. Stop. Perhaps now is the time to awaken from your slumber. The grains are fast slipping through your fingers.

I'm not sorry.
K Jun 2017
today i wear lacy
underwear
but underneath that i am
bare

today i realise that
infatuation
destroys and emphasises on
flirtation

today is the day i learn that
it
obliterates everything and anything with one swift
hit

today i bare my soul to the
abyss
the abyss that steals every last
kiss

today i finally open my
eyes
to the daunts and despair that life
buys

today, i bleed myself
dry
without an
ally

.
kimin May 2018
i could walk to places,
i'd meet a lot of people,
among million faces, my eyes encountered,
yours the best, favourable, preferred.
it consists of uneven lids, and that's okay,
perfection doesn't define,
your beauty, symmetry looks strange to me.
rosy cheeks, lips opened emphasises the sweet sweet smile, one drugged me with happiness.
so i began, one, two,
counting moles littered on you,
prominent one, faded one,
one hugging your nose,
one kissing the side of your lips.
my favourite,
the one holding your soft cheek.
It caresses you always,
I like to pretend its me, holding on to you
so dearly.
Tiny specks of beauty,
enhanced soft angelic physiognomy.
No one can hold on to you stronger,
Than those moles,
Forever rid my somber.

- kimin
This took me lot longer to write. Writing it with the person in mind and choosing the words carefully and correctly makes it more special to me.
Alex May 23
He walks on stage with no introduction.

He talks as you thinks a poet might,
her drawls his words and     emphasises them in particular points-
rushing through the stanzas like he's got somewhere to be,
a mad Huddersfield dog in a limelight heat. He needs no introduction,
flying into his performance with a level of boredom that seems akin
to a Rider on the back of a prime stallion, fine muscles twitching in
perfect precision as his steed
Cuts
into the crowd. Complete silence from the heat of us,
pure silence in rapture
of this rude grown man who requires

no introduction.
Simon Armitage... fascinating but very irritating accent. Insane poetry.
Universe Poems Jun 2024
Aristotle the Genius of reasoning
The source or cause,
of excitement and complete silence
Set forth by Aristotle of course
Aristotle defines,
a nature as "a source or cause,
of being moved and of being at rest,
in that to which it belongs primarily".
In other words,
a nature is the principle,
within a natural raw material,
that is the source of tendencies,
to change or rest,
in a particular way unless stopped
I disagree Scientifically,
with the resting tendency,
to change
Rest in a particular,
way unless stopped
If you are always vibrating energy,
that never stops,
provided by Einstein,
smaller atoms vibrating,
linking with sound,
eternal rhyme
Then it will never stop
Study of the Physical Universe,
we are the raw material,
the nature
Aristotelian perspective,
Women were of the status of slaves
You advocated,
against their right to Authority,
claiming that women were disfigured men
You put this forth,
little to no role in reproduction
Empirical approach,
which emphasises on observation first,
and abstract reasoning second relation
Abstract the source,
is nature know that
Concepts that are real
Freedom
Vulnerability
Not directly tied to concrete physical,
objects and experiences,
you see
Dr Diviney,
the Genius states,
Reproduction is Biology
Nature not debate
Science no mistake

© 2024 Carol Natasha Diviney, Ph.D.

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