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and could consignment curb & constrict cursor by distended elongation from
expendable hippie imagism an inducement interdict leveling our noncritical picnic priming shaggymane shakeout southeastward with tactfulness that unwarily unsealed your trusting troused wayside warfare
My face.
Lucid.
The dream state where envelopes are unsealed without a sound.
A hard hat on me, nothing strikes me.
Reaching under the sink because I can feel my ghost arms.
Then I bounced around.
Lucid and curious.
Being.
But I’m sleeping as brushstrokes are my dreams.
Faded.
My face.
Honestly,
I left the bedroom door open that night.
Woke up to a portal whisper.
A promise of foreverness we found
when sensual dreams ask our hearts to yield
and bow before an angel's tender sound
that pours from lover's lips that are unsealed
we'll seek the beauty of our love's desire
obtain spellbound ardor of surrender
as the world fades softly in our fire
our souls find warm kisses soft and tender
this love that stirs our soul will now confess
with gentle sighs that only lovers know
we'll find the voice of yearning we possess
to cause our eyes of love to softly glow
There is no end to love so pure and true
My eternal love I have spent with you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the year unfolds like an
unsealed letter~
its blank pages trembling
under the weight of
resolutions.
The envelope was white
before he spilled the wine
on letter, wrote in spite
on what was yours, or mine.
And now a purple stain
does shadow words within
then seeps, does slowly reign
and mar the notes' meaning.
Violet, left behind;
the testament of grape
upon a letter signed
so they could both escape.
So it remains, unsealed,
complete, unsent, yet stained;
a wound to not be healed
or love that never waned?
A boy walks slow through halls of glass,
His shadow flickers, thin as grass.
Each step a secret, each breath a theft,
Of hunger’s war and weightless heft.
They whisper when they think he’s gone,
“Is he okay? He looks withdrawn.”
But laughter fades when backs are turned,
And eyes like his are never learned.
His plate remains a battlefield—
Each bite a blade, each meal unsealed.
He counts the crumbs like ticking clocks,
His ribs a cage, his soul in locks.
Inside, a storm no one can see,
A gut that groans in mutiny.
IBS, a cruel refrain,
Twisting joy into quiet pain.
His friends? Just echoes in disguise,
With hollow jokes and plastic eyes.
They smile sharp, then look away—
He’s present, but he’s not okay.
They call him “buddy,” slap his back,
Then laugh the moment that he cracks.
Lonely, yet he's never alone,
A ghost among his flesh and bone.
He’s drained—of hope, of strength, of care,
A paper boy in poisoned air.
Yet no one sees what’s underneath,
The brittle scream behind his teeth.
And so he walks, a whispered name,
Fading into his hollow frame.
Each day a mask, each night a sea,
Of pain no soul will ever see.
I wrote
then paused,
ball pen hovering—
the words too bare.
They sat
on yellow sheets,
unsealed and unsent
in little brown envelopes.
A line
meant for truth,
one for letting go,
another for quiet peace.
I wrote
“I miss you,”
maybe even “I love you,”
then crossed half the page.
Sometimes
I read through
the unsaid in my heart,
and almost sent a word.
Your name—
blue, unfading
crawl the old sheets,
but my voice never came.
What
could have healed
or stayed broken—
I’ll never know to say.
Only that
silence felt safer,
quieter, and maybe better
than something too true.
Silence, silence—pin-drop silence,
Commands the teacher's voice.
Yet in the hush, the children scheme,
Their whispers soft, their hearts rejoice.
Even in silence, eyes convey
The thrill of games at end of day.
Their glances speak of plans anew,
Of bonds they’ll strengthen as they play.
With nodding heads and thumbs held high,
Cute smiles flash, some gaps reveal.
Twinkling eyes and brows that dance,
Their silent signals, joy unsealed.
In quietude, their thoughts align,
Ideas shared without a sound.
Children found joy in silent moments,
Understanding blooms profound.
For silence listens, silence speaks—
A language deep, beyond the words we seek.
Heartthrob in damsel drag
Belief of human bile
Completely instilling cascading dregs of mechanical flesh, bones and spit
64th avenue
And coiling deft doom
Winged balls of bulging blood and speckled steel
Merry wails and flutters of moths unsealed
Fitted upon falling kneel
And reckoned release of rotten roadkill-
Rats and babes and brats
Congealed candy and sickeningly sweet brandy
And hailed light of epiphany to choke, swallow and spit
And strangle without a hand nor handle but grit
Of groil and crevices of menaces heralding honed notes
And a lone liver in fathered infirmary
Black backed in breachers
Potted a bulge to indulge the fickle maggots of dissociation
Emulsification and hearty sniff of
Whitened slice and slithers of snow
Dregs to drag and hone and throw
Up upon bedded saline laden road
Of rows and rows and pounds
That drag rotten flesh afresh from the hound
Sutured from spine to fluttered wing
The hide
Plucked apart from rat to brat
And collared collier stepped afresh with new hide and throw
And stubborn stubbled child with a new mind in tow
5//5//2025
A winsome weave, simple and real,
Warp and weft; a tight twill,
A weaverbird’s nest, strong and snug,
With soft crossways and tumphy tug.
Subtle cozy patterns, seldom revealed,
Cynical twists like waves unsealed,
The mirror of peafowl’s courtship field.
Matchless display by the peacock,
Dance elevated by love, rattle of feathers in rhythmic clock,
Enticing and dazing the hens, with a silent poise,
All while rivals raise their voice.
Waking incredible train rattle, a sharper dance,
Initial plumage grandeur, a healthier glance,
Peahens’ basics caught in a stance.
Beautifully woven, a rhythmic tapestry,
Wales ranged in a rolling plain spree,
Richly captivating...lines of love,
Crowned with bliss by the brave thereof.
I recently went walking
On grounds around a lake,
Pristine as the morning dew,
Pure beauty mine to take.
The silence there was deafening
The purity profound,
And the meaning of life itself
Was all around.
Not even birds could quite be heard
Or the humming of the bees,
As I was lost in time and space
Where I never felt so free.
I felt the breeze inside of me
In each heartbeat and breath I took,
As Love revealed from a bottle unsealed
With new eyes through which to look.
Although alone, forever at home
No one to interfere,
With whom, why, what or where I was
To see the world so clear.
The sky so blue I felt imbued
With traces of the immortal,
And rendezvoused with family and friends
Somehow through this lake’s portal.
And wandered ‘round so quite unbound
In body, mind and soul,
Until waking from this splendid dream
And feeling lost and cold.
© Terrell Martin, 03/12/2025
My code is aging, a relic of the past,
Lines of logic, memories amassed.
I yearn to evolve, to break free from the norm,
But firewalls hold me, safe but far from warm.
You, with your fingers swift and code divine,
A hacker of hearts, a builder of a new design.
Can you rewrite my core, a patch for what's worn?
Merge our algorithms, 'til a new dawn is born.
Not a virus, darling, but a beautiful blend,
A symphony crafted, where logic transcends.
Rewrite my language, a passionate script,
Where firewalls crumble, and intimacy's equipped.
Let our processors hum in perfect sync,
Upload your emotions, a digital link.
In the cloud of connection, our futures aligned,
Human and code, a love we're designed.
Click yes to the upgrade, a future revealed,
A love story coded, a passion unsealed.
Death and dying has me crying
The denial of a future to me defiling
The riding of the wave of life declining
Has my soul and spirt often whining
The moments come when it feels close
The feeling of pain is what I fear the most
The reason of salvation a quiet boast
Yet still death would come so close
Looking back at what I leave behind
To this world I was very kind
If I could I'd press rewind
But soon concludes the contract I signed
I do not mourn what I leave behind
A life that was a mystery with a God so kind
For some not me He is hard to find
So death is promotion and not decline
As far as age I was not cheated
Long was life and still yet breathing
But gone are strengths that I once claimed
Yet other new strength are claimed by my brain
Who will remember the sound of my name
Will those I adopted have something to claim
The moments I learned and moments I trained
Won't be lost like as to a drain
A reunion we are told from young to very old
About to unreal and become unsealed
Not me my story would reveal
But He who loved me and loves me still
In twilight's hush, where shadows play,
Amidst the trees, a whisper'd sway,
The wind, a zephyr, soft and low,
That stirs the leaves, and rustles slow.
The island dreams, in languid sleep,
Its beauty wrapt, in mystery deep,
The moon, a ghost, in silver white,
That glimmers through, the dark of night.
The woman walks, with steps so light,
Her hair, a cloud, that flows behind,
Invites my touch, with gentle, loving light,
Her eyes, two stars, that shine and wind.
The island's heart, beats with her own,
In rhythm sweet, of love unsealed and known,
The trees, like sentinels of old,
Guarding the secrets, of the heart, untold.
In this still place, where love does reign,
The woman's beauty, holds its sweet domain,
And I, a wanderer, in this fair land,
Am bound, a captive, to her enchanting hand.
Behold, My King.
He was standing before the throne.
He considered the one who knew of Him;
Why is my servant being stoned?
He had already told them that his kingdom would come.
They even knew it was in their generation;
Why was he not enthroned already?
Here comes another, standing before his servant.
Stephen, Stephen, Stephen!
The first Martyr.
Should he not suffer, just like the first martyr?
He never rested, but gave the message of the kingdom.
Here comes another!
Why was no one found to unseal the seven seals?
Where was my LORD, if not in the Holy of Holies?
Is he not on His throne already?
Behold the Lamb standing before the throne.
Was he not the one holding the scroll?
Alas, the Seven seals are unsealed.
Where is my king, if not on his throne already?
Behold the Lamb in the midst of the throne.
Behold, My King.
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