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Literature Text
just before the start of spring
whilst blue moonlight washed
my slightly sacred thing
i vacated
i moved out overnight
in a dream of sharp lines
as mad naked women
danced to thick phallic symbols
all covered in vine
i packed up in the darkness
(but for the blue)
placed my logic in a square trunk
my fears and my algebra too
left the past with the future
left all science with facts
and found history quite light
for all that it lacks
i left for the street sweeper
perfect plato in boxes
left him all for a vision
of green spotted foxes
settled down for the now
divining tea leaves with turtles
and rainbow buddhas with cows
i live quite alive
with my dreams and my flights
yellow auras aqua angels
cerise symbols white lights
i will never go back there
having discovered my plight
living here amongst new gods
living here on the right
whilst blue moonlight washed
my slightly sacred thing
i vacated
- the left side of my brain
i moved out overnight
in a dream of sharp lines
as mad naked women
danced to thick phallic symbols
all covered in vine
i packed up in the darkness
(but for the blue)
placed my logic in a square trunk
my fears and my algebra too
left the past with the future
left all science with facts
and found history quite light
for all that it lacks
i left for the street sweeper
perfect plato in boxes
left him all for a vision
of green spotted foxes
- i live now on the right side
settled down for the now
divining tea leaves with turtles
and rainbow buddhas with cows
i live quite alive
with my dreams and my flights
yellow auras aqua angels
cerise symbols white lights
i will never go back there
having discovered my plight
living here amongst new gods
living here on the right
Literature
A Gift
I keep thinking about burying myself in your embrace, my face in your hair. And while I regret the fact that we both seem to be too much of damaged, quietly broken cowards to even talk about that night when we so naturally, seamlessly, gravitated towards each other, seeking warmth and comfort underneath the covers - using our sleep-pliant bodies to protect each other from the night - I am glad that it happened at all. Because to know that it is not a thing of fiction to actually feel like that in someone's arms… I am afraid you will never know how much of a gift it was that you unwittingly gave me. Still, I would give near anything for
Literature
lightkeeping
As you pick up the lantern in front of you, you find it filled with a busy, buzzing flurry of lights. Somebody stuffed fireflies into this one - not the proper thing at all. You unfasten the latch, open the door; the little bugs stream out gratefully. They bathe the wayside in a faint glow for a moment, then vanish in the pitch-black of the Long Night one by one.
You settle down cross-legged and gently put the empty lantern onto your lap to dream up a star.
Literature
lonely
figure 1 . — ISOLATION .
a girl screams into a sea of people who love her,
but nobody turns nobody looks nobody listens
a girl screams into a sea of people,
but they don't really love her
a girl screams into a sea,
the sea,
a girl screams into
a girl
and thinks it is the same thing.
figure 2. — GRIEF .
sometimes, i think i am a ro
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i have been jung too long to be a freud.
Thoughts on Concept?
Thoughts on language?
I know the poetry is not pure and perfect but does it keep enough rhythm?
Other thoughts?
Critique [link]
Thoughts on Concept?
Thoughts on language?
I know the poetry is not pure and perfect but does it keep enough rhythm?
Other thoughts?
Critique [link]
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