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K Balachandran Feb 2016
The dark purity of the night, I lustily sought,
to juxtapose it with the exhilaration filling in me
seeing her lush,**** body's eager anticipation.

Each cell comes alive, in her libidinous embrace,
Her erogenous silken touches,blends with the satin sheen
of sheer black cover darkness unfurls one end to the other,
the  dreamy lighted spots, embellish the nightscape's  opulence.
Night, anointed us with the fluence of love, when our supple bodies,
entangled in the bed till we drunk slept, blissfully lost the world.
Brother Jimmy Feb 2018
And while we are in
Conversation here
So many humans
Have expired, I fear...
 
Each moment brings
New life and new death
Final words spoken
And baby’s first breath
 
Life’s currents unbearable
Meand’ring through confluence
The sublime and the terrible
Don’t know their own consequence
 
The rush and the curve
Create oxbow crescents
The vim and‪ the verve
Ensure each one’s presence
 
And all we can do
Is react and observe
(Our own bent deeds too)
And endeavor to serve
 
Either the self
That glutton of grease
Or somebody else
And attain inner peace

Or at least a brief break
From worry and strife
Hold on to the harness, take
Joy in this life!
Negative Creep Mar 2016
we were taught we are disposable
and equipped with liquids, minerals and gold to preserve our fading beauty
because our charm is our only fluence
and it's a language with an expiration date
neth jones Jun 25
. .
pinhole eyes                                                            
­    observe over your kindled lie                         
the spread of your inedible pattern
doctoring against the indelible darkness
              quilted climate of mediation   forms over your bed
wiring out your unfiltered horrors with gentle fluence
(the rental of ebb  and the menial of flow)
tapping metal   musician on the raw triggers                    
                         that fore-reign your vital psychology
the inks  the rigs  the tinkers   the shallows
the shadows  and score  that wink to us all    
from the blue night
                                    observed
              ­                                      pinhole eyes
. .
blue screen   onto the window of the night
stalked by the lonely boy            
          you widowed it all away
vagranted and volunteered away   all your daylight
gave up the tokens of family                        
schooling features and few friends
remaining ; an intelligence to pool fear
you take on the scientists
popping your dreams                                
                 to see if they spasm and scream
gutting their symmetry  blazing a ****
recovering only more symmetry
rummaging away with their simplicity
extending the corridor without sympathy
searching out the temple of it all
a deeper darker origin to answer to it all
. .
shakedown    plug right through the eyes
you were riding it for ecstatic life
made a corpse of it now
naked to the nerve   your teeth grown in
invited to savage your way out              
               venture through the gaper glass
information salvaged    wreckage retrieved
your markers picked up   the importance received
up to you/ the message :  "exist,  if you please"
. .
after watching the movie Come True
Jayantee Khare Dec 2019
when comes
the fluence in silence
and
solitude in crowd
you are ready for poetry....
Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
2020 -day 84

Tuesday, March 24, 2020
8:55 AM

Seeing wrong,
seeing all the light available,
swallowed
in the shadows.

The unknowable turns believable.
Seeing monsters made up of

fears, non knowns, and warnings of what if;

how does the seer ever see
the absense of

all that never was as it all

appears as real
is now
visible in the light of day after tomorrow.

Expect, see, out there, ex-spectate, wait

what if this all passes

----

Meeting death in the barren market place,

this old man insisted on standing, to see past

pasts claiming causal friction grows slicker

sticky corruption shorting
utilities to
ground us.

{about five hundred million functional on-offs
fit on the silicon in a single grain,

a finite grain, in the finite sand, FYI}

pearl essence,
a layer of lacquer on a rough cut stone, a single
granular bit of silicon,
not sand, not silicone leaked from cracks and cleavages.

Real natural silicon, minus the dioxide cubist sand shapers that
seem to hold silicon in three-d
inside an oyster gut,
but smooth
silicon, slick
flat silken surface,
formed via imagi-tec-hative prognostication of holo
grammatical

bubbles shaping spheres of in fluence where once were

only circles
and every thing was as simple
as pi and Bohrian atoms.
from 1905 to now,
in some boxes men think in, imagining
orbiting electrons is how authoritarian sci using folk explain
chemical electricity,
and some try to say gravity is the active force at work.

Word, we know better... in the two d reality of words and flatness, here
psy psi sci
wist ye not- known knowns trump unknown unknowns.
Yes, we won.

Wisdom first, as a force, knowing, sci itself comes first,

by any name you claim you know but can't say,

for fear of the power in such names, no,
for fear
of the power
that makes such words, magic words,

words only magi-techs can utilize
safely in low light conditions,
adding matrices in
layers of little lies, informing the evidence chain
back to the idea of taking, and using, perhaps,

the idea of acting like only certain sorts of minds
may imagine knowing how to use
God - big g, all emanations and flavors
's name in vain.

Jot that down. Yod heh heh heh

here, have a sound track for the battle being set in array...

Don't Fear the Reaper

40,000 every day, la la, la la la

-- blue oyster cult mythic edge of sixties band

rock rollin' music for happy Sisyphus fans,

who find links to Camus in Covid 19 news, oh no

knowing growing must go on,
we leak out a spurt of

pearl essence, warning, this could be slippery,

keep your balance, walk don't run, listen we

survived, there is no guilt in that.

Nor must we do more than mortally possible, to believe
this life is temporary, at best.

consist, insist, resistance is futile, tiny grain

irritant emanating signals

secrete the pearly essence, encompass us

so smooth, so full of potential beauty
in this light
Bright and early, I remembered any music I wish for is probably on YouTube. And some times, I sing along
Riz Mack May 2020
A willing captive
gripped tight by her eyes,
steely, grey
and sparkling bright
in love
I watch her talk,
a loquacious fluence,
and study her lips like
a foreign language

"your attention is slipping."

"not at all."

"well," she begged
"haven't you ever been in love?"

I must have been
surely, I think
or something more akin
to time standing still,
the sands sculpting a moment
of a thousand lifetimes.

"of course I have."

"where is your love now?"

right here, I think
chronic and immutable,
boxed into lines,
safeguarded and sound
in dreams and reflections,
vicarious,
a farce of mimicry.

"well travelled,"
I would say.

"like blood from a stone.
well,
I'm glad you came,
will you come again?"

and she went,
leaving me
with a pocketful of sand.

of course I will.
I have no idea what I am doing
neth jones Jun 2019
the emergency of life
the spot lit fight
vigorous
apparent
the thrashing of the harvest
in the threshing of our night cares
sew what you mourn
in the blot of the moon

it’s all a swallow
one gross reactive swallow

your time perception
is gourded
your feelers
are fluence and torted

everything’s fun today
the sun spills the sun today
all fur is on end
all eyes are refreshed
fleshing mirrors
absurding the observed
playing with mother’s scissors
dog sugar dog sugar
attend to the worlds genitals
re-open The Eden for business
and theatre
Surreal style piece..

— The End —