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Noah Martin May 2016
I'm not sure what they said
what is done really messes with my head
Communicating with butterflies always ends with them in your stomach
then we age and wonder why we're aneamic

just say yes or no
there is no pain in rejecting a question
there is only pain in a lack of communication
as messing with the senses creates an awful sensation
so just stop ******* around
and say what you mean

Anxiety, depression, migraines, mysteria
they never make much sense
now i know this isn't in your criteria
but just be honest
be blunt
it will end all pain
I may be ambitious
you may be delicious
but miscommunication is disatrious
Medusa May 2018
all is warm and one
you are here in my mynde,
where I keep the holy relics
all along the martyrs' trail

****** footprints less than
walking on your spirit hands
so skip, dance, you martyrs

you signed on for this: mysterium mysteria majestic
now you are here, there is no turning back,
you ate the knossos bread, you drank the wine
you are tainted by ancient perfection

You are one with the Golden Age
You can no longer be less than you are

welcome, welcome, rose petals at your feet
next harvest, perhaps you will be our sacrifice

but for now, live in thys moment
become what you know you might be

so many to cheer your life as it drains away in dust
revered, beloved, nothing less than a God
you are to me, save the crops for another year
become the bread between our teeth

grind me like corn beneath your hips tonight
that moon demands a sacrifice, but first
you are the golden god of our dreams
we need you, trust your blood

singing like erinyes at your heels
singing helah helah helah
as you walk the white dust of the path
The path that only Iphegenia knows

we love you
we love you
selah, love, selah

we would die for you
will you die for us?
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
abandon those ambitions of the modern poetic,
poetry has not theological ambition,
even if it must, it can only skim these waters,
write me a history, a mythology,
write me of today: as it might appear and
be recounted of, a thousand years later,
and be said, to be untrue in a thousand years.

and while i was reading a book review
of the letters of sylvia plath, i stumbled upon
something unexpected,
like a fox in the suburban outskirts of london,
where you can end up running with a herd
of deer without the male to ease the traffic,
or almost get kicked in the head by a horse
who starts nibbling on your hand inserted
into its gob, thinking it's an apple...
i have what can only be summarised as
that which *clarice lispector
cited in dedication
to james joyce, forget what book,
all i remember the opening was her as a child
fused to hearing her father's typewriter,
like a woodpecker tucking into a tree
(and no onomatopoeia is necessary);
it would seem, thus, studying a woman's mind,
that i once had a lover, and now have a daughter,
and that's the hadean part of platonism,
that's ultra-platonism,
that's the most ****** you'll ever manage
as a man...
and you can't even imagine it,
unless you listen to music,
and stumble into shivers, or your heart
is a cage containing a kangaroo kicking
its way out from the confines,
with that awfully sounding thumping of
kickboxing...
poor choice of words, that, i will admit,
but platonism can reveal itself in another way,
not that a man may befriend a woman,
but that a man may be turned into a father-figure
and contemplate the fancies of a figurative
case of incenst, and yes: the marquis de sade's
book (as titled the act be) is his best work...
but while i was sitting in quicksilver
(moonlight) it all seemed to come together,
then apart, then back together...
you know how the astronomers debunked
pluto as a planet?
well... i had to debunk mercury as a planet
too...
to me mercury is a "moon" of the sun...
it has all the details of qualifying as a moon,
its rocky, it's not a gaseous giant,
why even bother calling it a planet?
and all it took was sitting at night looking
at the quicksilver layering on almost all things...
i could still see the moon from my window,
so i conjured upon a scenario,
and what if there was not a case to
argue that the moon could be akin to
mercury, if the earth represented louis xiv
in that geocentrism of a heliocentric man?
surely we have forgotten that even by replacing
the dogma of heliocentrism,
the geocentric model has not eradicated
the heliocentric man, that all revolves around
him, and him alone, whether the earth
be flat, round, triangular,
the heliocentric man always overcomes
the **** sapiens...
the rest of us are geocentric men,
farmers, brewers of beer,
but no matter what the scientists feed us,
there will always be the heliocentric man,
king louis xiv is the best example...
it might be a heliocentric model,
but you still need a geocentric model to read
a map, rather than listen to your g.p.s.
sat-nav... and never mind 3D,
the 3D comes when you're stupid enough
to drive into an ocean, and who said that
2D was outdated? i once read a map,
at wales, glasbury, we were divided into teams,
we were the second team, driven further
afield,
point being: the first team didn't ask
the question that i asked for my team:
where are we?
the quo vadis was in plain sight
when the finger dropped a point on the map,
i already spotted a shortcut, through some woods,
and a field of cows...
we beat team (a) by about half an hour...
again, besides the point,
i had to treat mercury like the astronomers
treated pluto...
i degraded it from a planet status...
and while sitting basked in
quicksilver of our dreamy satellite thought
about twinning the two...
the twins merx (mercury) & luna (moon)...
obviously a boy & a girl...
pluto? that was their pet dog,
neither transgender, nor bi-centric-cis-whatever,
it's trans, sure: but it's, a ******* dog!
in still can't get over the fact that i started
calling moonlight: quicksilver...
i hardly think i'll manage to keep it
repeated over & over until it sediments itself
into a pop lexicon...
but how dull can it become
if you call moonlight quicksilver,
and have not alternative for sunshine?
what would you call sunshine in the alternative
care for things?
there's no romance in changing sunshine
to any other descriptive parallel,
only nights care for eerie romance &
mystique... days are filled with work,
daydreaming, and suntans, and being late for
work, for commuting, for sweat,
crowded trains...
i account for claustrophobia as
a symptom of the day, rather than the night...
and no, i'm not a method poet,
**** me, did you watch that scotland
vs. slovakia match today?
one of the best matches i've ever seen,
two near misses on the cross-bar...
and then the irony of the own goal...
you think that they might just beat slovenia
away?
while in armenia it was 6 - 1 to poland,
and the support was so great that i almost
felt i was watching a home match...
come on: romance it great, mysteria all
the better,
but when push comes to shove,
you're still gonna take a ****, and think about dinner.
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2020
She doesn't wear sunglasses
to be hot or cool

She doesn't wear them
as a fashion statement

She doesn't even wear them
while in the throes of mysteria

She simply wears them
to hide the bruises
The woman he saw from his childhood often,
He pondered—
She is not even fair and beauty—
When did his heart become so fragile and soften?

Was it her silence, deep as the ocean,
Or the way she was unbothered
By what the world might think of her life and motion?

When did I start to observe her so?
I should condemn my heart before it goes too far.
I’ve witnessed every phase she’s been through,
Watched the life she walked, in joy and scar.

Some claim that love means sharing the good and bad,
But it’s hard when I think of pulling her into my worst and sad.
I’d be glad if she got a life much better—
But I fear, what if I’m wrong and regret it later?

Enough—this inner battle must now settle.
I’ve decided to take her hand in mine
And get over this heart’s restless saddle.

I went to her
And whispered in a gentle manner,
"I wish for your heart—
Give me a chance to heal your broken part."

Blushing a little,
She answered:
"You really took your time a lot.
Don’t you think you deserve a penance
For all the days we spent apart?"

I cracked a laugh
To ease my nerves—
She really doesn’t know
How fast my heart beats.
It’s a mysteria, I don’t deserve.

She chirped,
"I have a request to tell—
Please hear me once, and hear me well."
I replied,
"I am yours, as you are mine.
Don’t hesitate—just tell your mind."

She continued:
"I want to make memories with you—by
Walking down a narrow aisle,
Getting married before the ones
Who gave us birth—and the One who sent us here.
Not just making pictures with those
Who can’t decide whether to forget or forgive,
Or those who never learned ----------
---- How to live or let live.

I want to leave an impression of each moment in this world,
With you—walking along.
I never cared who doesn't get along.
I don’t want castles or money bills—
Let’s live the rest of our lives in a little cottage down the valley and hills,
With nature and our pet Dolly—
Simple feasts now and then with friends.
And I’ll be so happy.

I know you have many dreams to pursue—
I’ll support them, even if it costs a few.
I know it’s hard for you to open up sometimes,
But I’ll be there—for all your climbs."

I was astonished by her speech—
She looked puzzled, unsure how I’d react.
So, I gave her a peck on the forehead,
To let her know—
She’s not getting away from me.
Never ever.

Now I know why it happened to my heart...
Indeed, she is not fair and beauty.
She is beyond that—
She is my beautiful fairy.

— The End —