My ears listen to the way she speaks
Her warm smile is like the sun on my skin in the dead of winter
Her golden touch around my body
Makes my heart sing and my stomach flutter with butterflies dancing wildly
When I’m with her I feel like a little boy once again
She sets my soul free and lets it fly
Her soul is as pure as a lily blooming by the still water
Beaten and torn she blooms more beautiful than any other flower among the field
Her name of which I sing
I think of her
She’s so ineffably perfect
Always in my mind she lingers
It’s always her.
The world has always felt so ineffably massive
As a child I was scared to grow up; to live
I thought about meaningless existence and absurd hypotheticals way beyond my age
From that childlike wonder I learned to cry silently
In two days, however, I will turn 16 years old
But I have always thought that I would’ve died a year ago
No one ever knew, I made sure they didn’t
But this past year I forced myself into things I can’t do in the ground
I have learned to soar far above my fleeting grave
For my “suicide 16” will be no more
I used my voice and met amazing people
I have cried tears of joy from laughing too loud
I’ve been fighting the urge to starve myself
This “suicide 16” will not take me
So long as I take that first step into freedom,
The world won’t be as scary
For now, I choose to challenge the everyday
I have proved I am capable of being human
As cowardice and determination are seen as weakness,
They aren’t weak, they are human.
Humanly real unlike my premature grave
From ES to ES
Here’s the thing
I don’t really know
What life would be if I declared the truth
I heard you say you were unlovable
Yet I declined to speak
A Delorean moment
An everlasting “if only…”
A coward’s regret
All of that and more
The life I could have had
A haunting presence as I pace my cell
It seems supreme but who can tell?
Here’s the thing
I haven’t got a clue
What makes you tick and gets you feeling good
I idolize your ever little nuance
Pretend I mean as much to you
A hypothetical perfect match
A theoretically blessed union
An ineffably joyous pairing
As only I could conjure up
The wife I could have had
A loving presence as I stumble through the day
Appears so dear but who can say?
Here’s the thing
I’m in the dark
As to the thing that could have made me yours
And now I’m sure you’ve heard the news
I hope at least it took you by surprise
An unspeakable crime
A horrifying action
A man you thought you know
Who used to make you laugh
The life we could have had
A sobering presence but I hope you’re living well
I bet you are but who can tell?
I am ineffably in love with this pain
When your soft tender lips
Brush against my salty cheeks
And your hands warm my neck
I am in love with this pain again
When you pick me up in your arms
And cuddle me close to your heart
Until our breath synchronises its way
I once am in love with this pain again
When you treat me like your little baby
Bringing coffee and watching Disney movies
Along with me,All day
Oh god I love this pain,
once again.
Ineffably, I explore the width of the earth, my sillage an ode to life. Smile of serenity.
I lotus, exude wisdom as I age in stage, petals fade like memories, in purity. Parade akin chameleon. Spin in mud, reawaken like purged Alchemy In your garden.
I ignite your aesthetic apex, stealing glances I see. Sips from my kiss, butterflies pollinate my ears, lured by the susurrous laments, birds slumber on my blooming arms. Chipmunks like drunks, dart on my toes.
Bees dance in the air, mate like spiders.
~I have to wonder what it's like.~
........
After all, I live in a world so twisted.
Where wrong is right, and right is so ineffably misted.
Where destruction of cities is a daily habit.
By Socialiist and Antifa, with less brains than wild rabbits.
When our great Republic may indeed fall,
Crushed by the diabolical Dominion's Wall.
And the brainwashed world,ah yes,they think it's fine.
They hate America with its freedoms and republic sunshine!
~God keep us totally free~
When votes are but trash,America cannot be!
11-29-2020
10:38pm PST
Fixing the Ajna point between eyebrows
we may draw a circle horizontal
traversing eyes, temples, ears till Medulla
seamless energy band spherical
Likewise we may mark the upward path
rising up straight & vertical
via Guru & Sahasrara, Bindu & Medulla
as the energy loop ovoidal
The lotus at crown is said to have 1000 petals
each of which must blossom in ignition
bewildering is the magnificence of Gods miracle
cognising all of Brahman resident within
Futile is reading doctrines & scriptures
for the actuality of is-ness is ineffably beauteous
as we resistancelessly flow in the current
each nuance within potent awakening thunderous
13-September-2020
I acquire grievous compost in my mind’s glass eye,
piles and piles of waste debris lingers-
my subconscious feeds my intellect
and I am left breathing pure black ash
sinister by true nature yet pure as the whitest gold,
I seek the landfill only the poor seek;
for the needy realize the worth of
nourishment, not material wealth
my mind cracks open ineffably with vivid memories,
and this junkyard dwells where things
do not inhabit the universe - well needed
healthy thoughts ascend when the pure
crystalline hourglass stands perfectly still-
(as still as an imperial monumental column)
fear of the acumen residue in my dark mind procures,
feet planted firmly, standing upright-
ephemeral thoughts in my mind’s glass
eye flow through my bone marrow-
I embrace the remnants of solitude that
restlessly reside in my favorite junkyard;
(where I shall salvage what joy I have
left, and yearn to dispose of pain's refuse)
22 lines (sorry I just could not delete anymore lines)
October 31, 2019
Craig Cornish
My Favorite Junkyard Poetry Contest
The BBS has the tracks of how your gestations condescend,
your keyboard is where your fingers time and again stumble.
Numb and dumb, short-winded nib despairs of the scutwork's end;
In regard to your mumpsimus, succumbing to ink inundation, prostrate paper ceases to mumble.
Once arises the idea of an art creation, ineffably blent
or the one free from the rough-and-tumble,
pristine pulchritude, original mindscapes' most faithful fere,
shrinks and shrivels the way Venus dodges factitious smear.
Every morning at the window aside,
I find myself waiting for the sun,
To raise up and melt the snow,
The frost so hoar and numb.
Brooding on my thoughts so long,
Never did they hatch in this icy alp,
So still I keep waiting for the sun,
To watch this avalanche realm's fall.
In the darkness of night, I waited,
With a melancholic lullaby to lull-
The lucid sky to a dreamless sleep,
So the sun can drive in brisk.
Imbibing the cold wester I lay,
With my fossilising will, to stand,
Gaped eyes set at the horizon,
Oathed never to shut but die.
Alpine sun flaming high above,
Melting ice, watering my hopes,
My reflections blooming in the buds,
I kiss my death, ineffably alive.
Trudging on a lonely road
In somewhat desolated and dreary mode
Stumbled upon someone ineffably enchanting
And felt the desire to espouse her, augmenting.
Ah! Her dulcet voice and ravishing charm
That pierced my heart without harm.
I told myself “Yes, I have different goals, peremptory
But to estrange this girl is incendiary”
Having a yak with her was indelible
I asked “When could be our next date? Probable?
She could’ve balked, as her schedule was awry
But she replied “Thursday, dine or a movie?”
The first haphazard kiss was something ethereal.
Oh! Nidhi, my sweetheart, do u belong to Arcadia, for real?
For the moments I spend with you render a catharsis, inexplicable
Frankly, I doubt if I could requite you with something that capable.
I don’t care about the insecurities or the tempests my love would suffer
I’ll always be with you, Love you forever.
Never could I find love commensurate to yours, for me
And I know of nothing as beautiful as your smile for me.
I’m acutely smitten by you
Mind if I bought a Persian kitten for you?
You fill cavities in me I never knew were there
Like you dug inside and wildly bloomed
I felt your inviting light invade the sleep
‘Til I was jarred, shorn up, and doomed
I still think somehow I will I saturate you, too
When he doesn’t love you the way that I do
When I sleepwalk and find myself in you
I watch you late night when you dance to infinity
With a fire I wish you’d feel for me
Brimming and beautiful and ineffably free
As though you and I were meant to be
I sleep for days to shake you off
I see you out and nostalgically stop
I watch you blush as I plainly stare
You laugh and go on unaware
but
how
you
bleed
through the mind-numbingly empty
And blunt humdrum liars and sickening travesty
I pick you out of the crowd with such fluttering ease
You stick out like the moon through the autumn trees
Sometimes you smile as you watch me pass by
But I am letting you go, this time, this night
I am nothing against your backdrop of sky,
A shadow within your celestial light.
O, to find the words that describe
How I feel In my beloved's eye.
Like a mighty lion before household cat
As fierce champion to his victim before a spat
Roaring ocean before modest pond;
A tornado upon a city soon-to-be-gone.
O, to find the words that describe
How I feel when cast a glint from my beloved's eye.
If only I might draw up proper rhyme
A verse to do justice to Beloved, in due time.
I pray thee, let it bleed out on this page, my mind,
To let one see how it is she stirs this chest of mine.
Yes, indeed, mighty lion to lowly cat;
Fierce champion to opponent he would snap;
Roaring ocean to man-made splash;
Twister upon the village it would dash.
You see the emotion my dear, my darling, in my chest doth cause to swell?
One would say to great pleasure and joy it should to me compel.
And, yea, alas, it would, if at all,
If it did not speak of me as ineffably small.
For lion, ocean, champion; I am not he.
But cat, splash, and broken-one-to-be.
Nor twister, with harsh voice and fretful gale, am I
But rather the village laid waste in the blink of an eye.
To what end art,
or music, or poetry,
but to frame a moment
and simply see something
of that moment itself,
ineffably ordinary and peculiar;
her seamed and wrinkled face,
a silence broken to uneven lengths,
the exact expression of love -
and in that moment have revealed
something you hide from yourself,
an ability to remove the frame
and still see the beauty
MOON MORGANS
On a clear night long about October’s end
When the wind is wailing a dies irae
And your brain befitting the season is newly webbed
With la ronde des lutins (the round of the goblins)
Laughing in eerie chorus
Catch!
Swallow hard!
Then look ye up!
The great golden eye will appear slightly misted and
Flitting much like strange derby-wearing cigar chewing
circus criers
Are these small pot-bellied men with wings
Called by weird mystics “Moon Morgans”
You will hear them sing a burlesque tune
They hover just above mother earth
Though they appear quite close to the lunar apparition
So far away - mind’s eye and ear you know
“Too ra loo ra, pumpkin pie
Too ra loo ra, up in the sky
Too ra loo ra, my oh my
Too ra loo ra, oh how we fly!”
“This is nonsense!” you will say
But of course!
Moon Morgans are ineffably stupid
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