Raw, unfiltered anger, it’s all that I know. Constantly
Aggravated by worthless pieces of scum that I struggle
Getting off of my shoes. A nasty glare, a hostile retort,
Everything and anything can, and will, fan the flame.
After the infliction, what happens then? A swelling, a vicious,
Nasty swelling in the throat. A horrible torrent of flames threatens to
Destroy all in its path. Words of pure venom threaten to spew out.
Harrowing to myself and others, I know this to be so. But, like a sore
Affliction or rash, it never truly dissipates. It only subsides, a dormant ember
That flickers in the inky darkness until some ignorant cretin ignites it again.
Red, red, red! Blinding, sizzling-hot red is all I see. Pure and unfiltered
Evil that only cares for spreading vile hatred and destruction. Suddenly, the
Devil is fatigued. It sinks into the abyss, dormant. But not for long.
[Note : For FINISH MY POEM CONTEST
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Tuesday 15/4/25
1st two verses by Mystic Rose Rose ]
(3rd Placing in Contest)
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true
Two papyrus thin wings of buttercup yellow
she flutters in and out of my garden Heart
it is freedom she brings, cares not for bellow
I crave to join her, finish my art, baking tarts
Her proboscis deliciously delicately long
into a lonely red rose she inserts it so precise
inspiring me to dance to a super Spring song
her wings like my breath dissipates every vice
Oh Butterfly ! Take me with on your fanciful flight
daisy fields, mountain streams to desired Eden
let’s go where no cares air, just serene sights
fairies composing tunes for whispering women !
stirring
with
silver
throated
chirrups
cherry
sonata
soothing
serenade
beauteous
rhythm
mid-morning
mood
tunnel of cell tone
dissipates
drowned
by
delirious
elixir of solitude
plans fall through
surprises around the corner
a random rendezvous
mirage moment mourner
diluted destiny denied
but disappointment dissipates
when you realize—
it's all fate.
-k80
Dancing beneath the celestial tapestry,
Each tender touch and warm embrace ignites her joy,
A radiant warmth lingers like the twilight’s kiss,
As love deepens, weaving threads of passion ever tighter.
It echoes the canvas of a setting sun,
Where the horizon bleeds into a symphony of colors,
Yet shadows loom, seeking to veil this glowing warmth,
But it endures, shimmering in the gaze of distant stars.
Occasionally, the world acknowledges my toil,
As a young dreamer, my father’s pride wraps around me like a cloak,
In the realm of labor, accolades bloom like spring flowers,
Filling me with a fleeting warmth, as time momentarily halts.
In this fleeting existence, permanence is a myth,
The sky surrenders its glow to the encroaching night,
Romance fades into the quiet of slumber,
And the warmth of achievement dissipates at the boss’s inquiry, “How is your work progressing?”
Someone would rather not speak the truth
After weighing the cons and pros
They're exquisite egoists
Someone dares to bet the causes
Inspectors weighing the pros and cons
Restrict viewers or ban the speakers
Since then, no truth matters
Only compliment words or praise heard
This is how a law of thermodynamics
Works for all communities
If a system dissipates and disintegrates
As it loosened balance, so does
An interest- congested community cease
The inveracity beauty is on the surface
While leaving bugs inside numerous
Adapt to the stars.
And eating rocks on Mars.
Try to be a little flexible.
And let space dust take its toll.
Adapt to driving a car.
And swinging a golf club far.
Maybe you’ll learn to cook salmon.
And cut your own hair like they do at the salon.
Adapt to roller skates.
Adapt to the way perfume dissipates.
Adapt to learning French.
Adapt to falling asleep on a bench.
There’s not much to do here on earth.
Except give everyone else a wide berth.
I could learn to cook them a fancy dish.
But that would not be my wish.
Adapt to having your pinky toe cut off.
Or having an endless cough.
Having a bee living in my shirt sleeve.
Who whispers about a man named Steve.
If anyone out there knows,
How to hold an awkward pose.
Or juggle a pile of vegetables.
While balancing on a three legged table.
Adapt to the stars, they said.
While you lie in bed.
While you dream about becoming someone new.
And learn to change a tire on a car that is blue.
Adapt or else no one will listen.
So I better get to fishin’.
God or the angels must be having their way today
For there is a large happy white smile in the sky
It was a cloudy gloomy doomy day until now
I stare at the smile, wondering what it reflects
Will eyes and a nose appear? I watch as it slowly dissipates
My imagination thrilled with the possibilities of what it meant
May the healing mother give your heart peace
May the forgiving father watch over you as you sleep
May your spirit animal, the deer, issue you much needed comfort
May your totem, the turtle, show you the way to health
May your sweat lodge sisters pray that your cancer dissipates
May your family dream of better times and ways to help you through this
May your body push out the bad, and inhale the better greater good
May our prayers help you through this trying time, White Wolf Woman
Cold dissipates as the Winter bird tweets.
Perpetual treat, that enters my ear, singsong
merriness, retreats all too quick, completes
its assignment, to the next neighbor, gets along.
Stillness of second Winter, naked oaks.
A seasonal painting as my window frames.
Upcoming Spring, the loss in April, brushstrokes
that paint a vivid scene, purple in flames.
Summer and Fall wedged in between, poking
the embers, sending smoke up the chimney hole.
On this side of heaven long days, never revoking
the pact to keep sealed in her urn, memories toll.
Still heaven is hope, hopeful days of endless sun,
seasons without pallor and pain, holding so soft
hands, hugging eternity, leaning on Tree of Life; one
family in the Lord; my mother’s eyes…I look aloft.
A vine in winter…
stripped of its leafy clothes
shivers in forlorn silence
as it sways and scrapes at the colorless sky.
She walks alone…
in a barren, winter field
hoping to find a way past her tears
stinging tears, of loss and sadness
burdening and weighing her down.
A sudden choking chill of frost…
descends upon the vine
frozen fingers cling mercilessly
threatening to break it
from its brittle, hardened spine.
She looks up at the hazy sky…
the obscure, distant sun still shines
and a quiet hope begins to germinate
as her desperation dissipates.
A shoot sprouts anew on the vine…
…her revival has begun.
Lure of mirage
in deranged dunes,
dances in
dandelion rhythm
with oasis dream,
illusion inscribed
in sane sands of time,
sliding continuum
with desiccated travail,
thirst unquenched,
stimulus sensuous,
perpetual.
Dormant despair
usurps harps of hope,
vibrato dissipates
unperceived,
wisdom shroud
unfurls crafty chimera
in life of actuality,
awareness avid,
imbibed.
Stifling shadow
anguished onyx cloud
creeps remorseless,
dissension darkness drips
opaque desolateness
on listless landscape,
mangled in
strife maelstrom,
mind sucked within
hope vortex,
umbrage pervades,
unushered.
Silver spectrum
of lines transient
in acumen cloud,
splits into colors
of radiant reverie
in optimistic prism,
sculpted.
Convoluted canvas,
carapace conjured
for contorted hideous faces,
turning in a trance
into baroque frescos,
flicker of beauty
sparkles sneaky
in conceived smile,
beholder,
the painter.
In the depths of a world breathing beneath the vast and silent sky,
Where shadows are memories of days that were never ours,
Someone, an architect of dreams and fear, stretches their invisible fingers,
Gently caressing the fragile threads of minds that believe they are free,
Woven from illusions, we, mask-wearers, lost in this dance
Of imposed thoughts, a silent waltz of an invisible government,
Floating above us like a storm cloud that never dissipates,
Led by the echoes of voices we have never heard,
Yet that shape our dreams and fears, tastes and desires,
Every evening, when shadows stretch across the sidewalks,
We wonder if we are merely puppets in a theater without a curtain,
And if we will ever feel that we truly are,
More than silhouettes moving to the rhythm of an incomprehensible song,
In a world where truth is a rare guest and silence
Is the lullaby of sleeping souls,
Awaiting the light to awaken us from the collective dream.
nothing spoils this surface view ~ see me
crave attention, gift empty touch
tonal mask veils flaws and vices
face alter ego and kneel
to feed the shallow shadow that circles
~ around gossamer tears of the grieving moon,
as silenced streaks of tongue-twisted lines,
undress a puddle of poisoned stars
pull force imperceptible, attraction
lost in blissful contemplation
comatose until that last equation
gravitational persuasion creating longing
but will the lake that flows with fears
thaw words tangled in golden chains?
for I’ve drowned in liquified lies,
drawing perfection from imperfect reflections
delve to the depths of my spun world
peripheral interference dissipates in darkness
only requirement is carved version of self
that steadies my hand and drags me in
sinking beneath Narcissus's polluted undertow
tainted oxygen leaves my expanding lungs
hitting jagged rocks, spoiled skin shreds,
exposing a forgotten empath ~ salvation rises
“Whatsoever that be within us that feels, thinks, desires, and animates, is something celestial, divine, and, consequently, imperishable.” Quote by Aristotle
The aurora borealis glowed above us,
Beckoning us to the stars,
where meteoroids and asteroids challenge,
microgravity becomes our new reality.
stardust speckles our skin,
creating an ethereal glow.
I’m lost in your soul's windows,
diving into your solar plexus,
drowning in the Milky Way's whirlpool.
Our bodies sweat, cosmic confetti bursts,
celestial hallucinations haunt my mind,
my engine is ready to combust,
asteroid ashes and space dust swirl.
As our lifetime dissipates,
I stitch my lifelines to your skin,
in shimmering ink,
we await the encore of rebirth,
new bodies formed from cracked constellations,
descending from heaven's opalescent gate.
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