Long Dismantles Poems
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Indicating Fictional Material
ACTION MOVIE PROMT GENERATER
Descriptive keywords used to generate, analyze, or write about films
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Written By: Auteurs Auteurs de Rédacteur Movie Studio Meadia Group LLC
When fictional characters "buy from the dark web," it is a narrative trope where characters use the hidden, encrypted layers of the internet—accessed via specific software like Tor—to anonymously purchase illegal goods, hire mercenaries, or procure untraceable tech from underground marketplaces
They were in for the suprise of their lives!
They were just aweful people one said. Not caring for those
who wished them well and supported their wellbeing.
They bougtht $#@%$$$ $$$$^^^ product #^^^
off of the dark web. It was a kit. When they put it together
they looked in awe an just left it their. Never telling anyone
of it or it's were abouts. 20 years later two freinds camping came across
the device: and thats when the story begans. Megalithic the new words
that started the whole thing. Upon reading the Blurtez Agreement:
and the Treaty of Montellvello Act of 2033, they figured out
what the device was all about."What great for me, redefines your logic"
one said as his maddness state of mind began to develop.
The phrase means that prioritizing your own personal fulfillment,
happiness, or subjective experience is so powerful that it
dismantles traditional, rigid ways of thinking. It suggests
that personal well-being trumps objective rules—if an
approach works for you, its success overrides standard reasoning
Grief, for the heart who remembers,
Dismantles the silence,
With melancholic lights, softly glowing,
Restoring the music to the soul,
Who remembers, remembers the love…
Grief, for the love who consoles,
Stirring the voice,
His grace makes hearts whole,
Trembling, winds raising
Beautiful dreams, so amazing…
Grief, cold as ice, amazing,
Singing through the twilight,
Softly breaking, quiet,
Surrendering beneath shadows,
Rejecting words who blame…
Grief, destined to blame,
All the rhythms, restrained,
By the listening nature,
Who abides in blessings, praising
One who offers God’s grace…
Grief, faced with true grace,
Fades beneath the gentle,
Souls breathing hope,
Hearts who truly know,
Love has its own special glow…
Grief, wearisome in each glow,
Beckoning to those who know,
Without love, nothing can grow,
Without love, the light won’t show,
What it means to feel so low…
Grief, while it brings the spirit low,
Remembers that love,
It is love that that blesses the soul,
It is love that produces grief,
It is love that also brings relief…
Grief, through sorrow comes relief,
Reminding hearts to just breath,
Reminding souls to mourn,
Reminding spirits of love so warm,
This is grief that stirs tears, so wistful…
Grief, blossoms in the wistful,
Creating a knowing, a lost dream,
Despite the assurance that love believes,
Even in the winds of change,
There comes a hope that still prays…
Grief, while the soul prays,
Reminds the spirit that love is willing,
Love is brave and must be given away,
Love is the light we find inside,
The source of our life – His story our guide…
Grief, with Jesus as our guide,
Will be left behind, swallowed up by light,
Remembering the love that is still alive,
Love that comes from the very life,
That we grieve, because love stills abides!
Grief, whether it’s yours or mine,
Relieves the heart who suffers,
Wiping away the tears and hurt,
Comforting the soul with love that is,
Love that comes from the Son who stills….
Even the wind, the shadows, the grief….
He stills the tears with a gentle that sings.
He stills the fears with a serenity that believes.
He stills the years with a solace that means…
Even the seas know He is the relief of all grief!
Written: July 23, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Quote: "There are gentle touches that remind the soul how fragile it has always been." By Poet
**********
Tremulous dawn drips through the lattice,
a lapidary light that swathes the room
in citrine silence—
yet even here, amid sedate scriptorium calm,
the walls start their quiet sunder.
Not the wanton wrecking-ball,
not the truculent ordinance of overt ruin—
but the sapient, serendipitous wooing
that treads orchid-light across an inviolate floor.
A patina of gentling,
a furtive augury that the impregnable
is never as adamantine as it claims.
A beam buckles—
and something in me buckles with it.
The katabatic abyss widens
in the marble edifice
and in the psyche,
a shared gossamer grid spreading
through plaster and pulse alike.
The collapse is circumspect,
a mellifluous malignancy of tenderness
that pinions both edifice and toughness
with the same tremulous touch.
Even the sacrosanct rafters
—Tuscan arches, hortensia frescoes,
ochre patina of archaic iron tether—
start to sway,
and my thoughts sway with them,
their once-ruby-lotus resolve
now cerulean edge cleaved,
squelched by soft insistence.
A whimper in the joists
echoes a whimper in the chest.
A sedate sashay of dust;
mirrors the silken saunter of doubt.
The synergy is unmistakable:
each gentle stroke against the wall
evinces a stroke against the mind,
each frolicking fissure in the façade
summons a fissure in the heart.
Demolition by soft touches—
the lucid quietus,
the quiet debacle,
the wanton velleity of tenderness
that dismantles the impregnable
brick by breath,
beam by sigh,
until the whole edifice
—outer and inner—
sneaks inward as an ouroboros
consuming its serene façade
and the psyche that believed
it was inviolate.
In the finale,
the rubble is not only stone.
It is kenopsia,
hiraeth,
the sacrosanct self
rendered scree by gentleness.
A serendipitous synergy of ruin,
where the physical demolition
and the emotional collapse
are one ordinance,
one augury,
one soft, sapient sunder.
I am transgender, a soul untamed,
Seeking solace, my true self proclaimed.
In this journey, I've found my role,
Here's what I need to be made whole.
Acceptance, a beacon to light my way,
Embracing love, where judgment won't sway.
A mirror that reflects my inner grace,
To see myself, unburdened by the chase.
Understanding hearts, compassionate and kind,
A refuge where I can peace of mind find.
Words of affirmation, whispered in the air,
Affirming my existence, showing they care.
A world that dismantles oppressive walls,
Where equality reigns and prejudice falls.
Opportunities to thrive, without constraint,
For my dreams and talents, a fair playing paint.
Connection to a community, strong and tight,
Where unity blossoms, like stars in the night.
Courage to be vulnerable, without fear,
Knowing my truth is valued and held dear.
I am transgender, bold and unafraid,
Demanding respect, in every accolade.
With these elements, a tapestry untold,
I'll embrace my journey, and forever unfold.
The winds of change blow in time’s course,
waft from an unseen end to another unknown.
The momentum they gather from the power
of the flow of history goes on increasing ever.
The direction they receive from the message,
the geopolitical events provide, can’t be altered.
The future inscribed on nation’s landscape page,
people earnestly design, can’t be changed.
Totalitarian regimes blow away in gale of uprising,
empires collapse in due time in rebellious squalls.
All ordained to meet the change from the start,
their vestiges lie scattered in the pages of history.
The mankind seeking freedom as the birth right,
breaks the disparaging shackles of repression.
Indomitable spirit rises from the dust of suppression,
new generations of belief and value emanate
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change the winds generate.
The strike of destined time arrows of rebellion
dismantles ultimately the authoritarian regimes.
The intriguing course of subjugation history,
turned the innocuous trader into the ruler,
letting British sovereignty in Indian subcontinent
enforce subjugation for endless agonizing decades.
Many valiant attempts of liberation failed,
the chains of domination remained unbroken,
till the persistent persuasion of non-violent protests
became the surging independence movement,
shaking ultimately the citadel of the empire,
whose sun was to set permanently in the east
on August 15, 1947, when the nation awakened,
saw the new sunrise with colors of freedom,
but with an unprecedented colossal human cost
paid by the millions of uprooted innocent people,
the displaced refugees losing their homes
in the wake of territorial partition of the country.
The generations down the timeline built new lives,
breathing free air in the independent country.
“The fervent garden grieves as the frail flowers called love
enwrap the shards of broken heart” – Quote by poet
The rhapsody of rainbow morphs into morose mélange,
bleeding colors bleached from the twilight zone clouds
that rainstorm daubs as blemish on dilapidated essence
when the shades of grey paint the frayed linen of love.
The requiem of roses resonates in melancholic medley,
the petals pine for dripping tear drops of mourning dew,
desiccating in somber sunshine in the deserted mind,
while the fallen flowers make frail bouquet of passion.
Cacophony encapsulated in the cauldron of mute melody,
chaotic symphony dismantles on the discord waves of desire.
Strained smiles sneer the scarred scenario of the senile life,
music turns to convoluted noise echoed by the battered soul.
As you drift away blowing a devastating storm of apathy,
my fervor is fragmented to lie in the debris of ecstasy.
The lattice of life seen through the languid cynic lens
magnifies into the crooked contortion of decrepit heart.
(Inveniam viam)
Far beyond these eerie things, where limits have no scales
Fish are replacing gills, with turbine aerated tails
Sea level’s losing all meaning, for the humpback whales
Ships piggyback them, harpoons syphon wind from their sails
Today I woke up early, lately I’ve let dreams flow
Into an abstract yonder, where visions often go
A wave came over me, up from my downy pillow
When tidal forces passed away, many moons ago
As the ocean waved goodbye, I called for an encore
Behaving like a poultice, the beach drew back old gore
You could’ve bowled me over, sent ripples to my core
Never again I’d sleep soundly, near this bloody shore
After a fretful lie-on, facing truths with each turn
My sundial running on empty, stars can’t always churn
Moribund in dimness, til an old spark can return
Reigniting glory days, (let supernovae burn)
Overhead the vacuum grows, just to make more space
Stretching my dysmorphia, to align with gods face
No one knows for certain, who enhanced his human race
Gave an artful hand, outsmarting evolution’s pace
As life spirals forward, in a world out of control
Entropy dismantles, stripping back our maker’s role
The poet in me keeps goofing, digging deeper holes
He’s a junkie rhymester, overdosing on this soul
So hail all billionaires, who never walk down my street
Flying above fake cripples, with power in their feet
Prodigies of bad and worse, scheming to make ends meet
Leaves an aftertaste of smugness, one that will repeat
As for those big questions, some take a straightforward twist
Two things I thought might go away, stubbornly exist
Not death or taxes, I’m already over that list
Each day I arise, how come lies and bullsh!t persist?
First there was oblivion, til I woke up and saw
Now fully awake, dead ahead looms a fatal flaw
But so long as I can dream, and able to guffaw
It only hurts when I laugh, Don’t you think? vents my jaw
By David Kavanagh
Hms
In trials faced, and battles fought
Through hardships endured, lessons taught.
Pains sharpened edge, a familiar companion.
I weathered its storms, remained unshaken.
Pains cold embrace, a passing breeze.
I stood unbroken, calmly at ease.
Adversities tests I met with grace.
Unruffled, steadfast in my place.
In scars of sorrow, I've carried light.
Each difficulty met with will and might.
No agony could claim my soul.
Through these things, I learned self control.
Nothing could keep me down, because I looked above. Nothing ever broke me, but then came love. It laid its seige upon my core. Made me question all I knew before.
No armor shields from cupids dart
As love surrenders every part.
In its warmth. Vulnerability thrives.
Exposing your all, lifting your blinds.
With loves tender touch- the hearts alloy. We blossom and break In arms of joy. It paints in hues both bright and dark. And always leaves a lasting mark.
In whispers soft love finds its way.
Through veils of joy and shades of grey.
For in its careful gentle hold,
Lies power untamed, stories untold.
It tears down walls, it dismantles pride.
It left me defenseless with no where to hide.
With loves sweet kiss my fortress fell.
My heart an open citadel.
Unlike hurt I've known before
Loves haunting echo an open sore.
Indeed nothing can pierce you through
Like the torments of love, so achingly true.
With every caress each tulmoultous shove.
Nothing destroys you quite like love.
When winter arrives
Icicles manifest around my heart
The Earth is barren
Roses wilter and decompose
Absorbed within grey dirt
Where oh where does life go?
Does it migrate with the doves?
Does it freeze up in the lakes?
Is it buried within the lonely graveyard?
Carried in the cold breeze
With the dying leaves
In the deepest darkest nights
When the moon restarts its cycle
And you are left invisible
Where oh where does light go?
Does it migrate with the sun?
Or float away like raining clouds?
My solemn heart grows impatient
Knowing I can not go on
Knowing I shall certainly freeze
If winter never ends
Growing jealous of God's powers
Crying sleet and snow
All the time ignored
All the time, frozen in one place
Please oh please don't leave me
Mr. Sunny Sky
I need you oh I need you
Travel back or I shall die
Like a grasshopper jumps from branches
And lands with a thud
In a pile of autumn leaves
And silent is the wind
Death, no... Death consumes me
I can not find the life
And as ice shatters strings
Playing amongst my heart
I fall down next to a flower
...
I close my eyes and smile
A yellow petal dismantles, and lands upon my nose
Life survives in winter
In the smallest of the smallest ways
That's where life goes
The Flower Seller
Amelia wares un- cuticled painted nails,
She hop scotches a pirate on one leg,
Tip-toeing long sun cast morning shadows,
beneath billowing hand stitched, salty sails;
Under an early Sun, fingers whir in a motion sweet,
directing an imaginary rainbow of colours to run,
In the trodden silk grass; marked in herbs and fallen pears, while!
Fragrant is a Jasmine breeze, as the Flower cart rumbles the street.
There is a nestling in the spoked wheel pink hue friction,
the dark pupil eyed horse gazes un-blinkered beneath its mane,
peers out of its global socket spooked; unsteady, unsure,
Amelias fingers fanned out now, a serene juxtaposition.
Crickets emit now, in the felt unseen heat, a high noted sonata,
For the flower seller, shes shaded, except from hot air thro her sandalled feet
The flower seller trudges onwards without a sale, while a balconied young Maid, sings solo to herself, a sweet half whistled performance, puccini’s cantata.
Morning becomes its distant day, roasted coffee bean aroma drifts her way,
On sweeping wings of African winds, her straw hat tumbles, she fumbles,
pitted cobbles win; the juggled disappearing bonnet, like a torn feathered falcon,
It dances on, chased by a ferrel Cat; sharp claws grasping, a prize for a stray.
Evening draws a shimmered line, above white horses, (eeing the never; time,
In the retreating back drop, wooded ; trumpeting bark of Stags brakes the stillness !
Rips out, the creeping-darkness, strung out like threads of unwanted faded garments
its left to time to dismantle this opera of thorns, of minutes and hours, her paradigm.
So, Amelia sits rests her sleepy head in the Flower sellers lap,
the subsiding pain, once again, counts the meagre gains,
those long past sensual moments, are floated on seas of tears,
sharp time dismantles us, falling petals on wrinkled skin, short on heartbeats within,
It is, dead quiet !