|
|
|
|
|
| | Afflatus FragmentsPage 77 of 85 (45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85) | | The aura of mysticism radiates from her soul. She is the alchemy in God’s eyes. I look in a panic to catch a glimpse of her visage. Sheer consternation rumbles through the forest of my mind. When she appeared, the Lord was taken aback by Astarte’s creation. She is the golden scrolls of immortality, the elixir of youth—she is wisdom unborn. If I could but make love to her and then perish, I would awaken in heaven, no matter the location. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 2:46:29 PM | In Honor of Valentine’s Day
Laden with love,
Is this not the season
Of amore?—where
Lovers attest to their
Vulnerability—where
We wail through
Vibrations the depth
Of our love.
Is she not the woman
In Songs of Songs?
—read through An
Anagogic lens—where
All radiates: I love you.
She’s an empyreal
Dove, carrying our
Pressures throughout
The years. Where
Would we be without
Our precious diamond?
Where would we be
Without our soul?
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 4:38:16 PM | Somewhere within a trance,
I came face to face with love.
She has devastated me unto life.
Life became poetry, my balance. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 6:10:20 PM | Love IS
Love is a conundrum,
Perceived through actions.
Love is the soul’s ambrosia.
We desire more.
Love is sacred as prayer, a
Treasure to the soul.
Love is the art of existence.
We paint to its rhythm.
Love is an idyllic force. We
Try to measure up.
Love is an indelible soul-print,
Awakening the spirit-mind.
Love is sacred as music. We
Tiptoe upon symbols thereof.
Love is an electrical current,
Striking throughout our spirits.
Love is a vibration. We vibe to
Its rhythm—ancient as time!
Love is a dreamlike dimension,
Often murky as midnight.
Love is the mind of dreamers,
Searching to perfect love.
Love is illumination, giving
Light to our lives.
Love is unto mystic
Enchantment. We yen for more.
Love is a magical rollercoaster.
We ride it to the bitter end.
Love is a sacred religion. Its
Language is universal.
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 7:55:11 PM | AF 180 (Beautiful Woman)
In and through man’s bones
She moves without mercy
Touching within the soul’s
Catacombs. She has become
Man’s infatuation.
Dare we insult the goddess!
Dare we touch her flushed
Flesh? The sky shall split in
Half, as God rains upon man
Confusion.
In silence, man pleads for
Redemption. She smiles as if
She has read man’s heart—
Teary eyed in spirit, crumbling
In mid-thought, walking
Through the seas that have
Been rift apart.
Dance upon a cloud, my dove.
I hope that the fowls will
Beckon God on our behalf,
Before her beauty drives us
Insane.
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/16/2012 6:26:38 PM | She is intimate with the
Womb of light, even the
Sanctity of life—a
Victorian queen, a ruler’s
Wife. I was pulled in
Gradually—into my soul,
She dripped throughout
The seasons. I tampered
With fire unknowingly,
Unaware of passions
Burning forevermore.
I now yearn not to break
Free. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/17/2012 3:43:24 PM | Infatuation, Art over Love
How did I not try sooner?
Such an Intellectual woman!
Times were immature. My
Mind was adrift with poetry.
My heart was buoyant with
Words. But courage was
Wanting. I just composed
As I never had before. Every
Sentence I read became pieces
Of poetry. I was hypnotized.
I was selfish. I chose art
Over the pursuit of love. I
Was comfortable in inspiration.
Cosmic rays pulsed through
Every fiber of my being.
I was electrically polarized.
To pursue my poesy in the
Flesh was a foreign thought.
I just kept writing. Every
Impulse was consecrated
In script, for she is a
Candescent angel. But I am
A blank expression,
Gravitating in many
Directions. Every thought
Is an examined Cave.
Every memory is a shadowed
Reality. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/17/2012 4:02:24 PM | seduced by your muse
kissing your mind with her grace
seeds of thought flowering
words empowering the page
thoughts become specks of light
fireflies in flight
thus the magical kingdom
of the poetic knight
keeps drawing her back to you...
back through you....
seduced by your muse
kissing her soul with your grace..... | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/17/2012 8:39:38 PM | | ^^^^This is a great capture. I truly enjoyed reading it. I thank you for posting it here. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/17/2012 8:40:15 PM | To breathe in her essence
Is a soothing manifestation
A calming of the storm—
Place of my spirit-soul.
Herein I have read too
Deeply into an illusion
That has intensified my
Bruise.
But I shall flee
From moonish whims
Pondering freedom while
Sinking into illumined eyes. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/18/2012 2:54:30 PM | AF 200
Into a bottomless lake, I
Fall, gripping desperately
To forever. Her breath is
In my hand, dancing to
An unutterable tune
—some supernatural
Voice, scratching at my
Aloof heart. But I want
Her to hear, albeit, I do
Not listen. Hear me love,
For I am afraid to hear a
Echo voicing back to me—
Voicing back to me that
My mind is an illusion, an
Unsolvable riddle
—permitting me passage
To tread across the desert
Region of my mind.
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/18/2012 3:01:22 PM | thought I would give you some numbers..
sacred.
nauseous owl-snore moon, rapaciously silent
clack of dusk,
by what quaint legend did the dead fledgling
dream the Phoenix was even
a bird?
or by what bold supposition
does woman dream
Icarus was a tragic man, save
that of a man seeking the place of wind
all summer dresses find
my lady walks with me
when the sun is splendor and when
gentle is wind
my lady feels me walk with her
when the sun
is garish and frustrating is the tear
of airs
is it a sadness that dew must die to rain into the seas
or down naked
running lovers who shampoo themselves in rain?
we know that we must die
someday
we know death
is more supple than all the worlds can bear
death's great and massive head must wait its turn
the grass is soft
warmly upon this day
the grass this day is more supple than
all clocks, deaths, their billions
can bear except as Daffodils and Daisies
and Swollen Mothers insouciant
grinning
and tendered burly men who tremble
like eggs
when their mothers dance around them
in secret meadows
among wet roots of trees I ask you
truly
what is sacred.
.. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/18/2012 4:25:43 PM | These stanzas stood out--they are very intense.
"my lady walks with me
when the sun is splendor and when
gentle is wind
my lady feels me walk with her
when the sun
is garish and frustrating is the tear
of airs"
As for what is sacred, I suppose that that is dear to heart.
This is a great capture, Truthisee. I thank you for posting it here. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/18/2012 7:53:28 PM | Concern
While walking through a
Garden of lilacs, I mused
On allusions of love,
Pondering upon one dear
To heart.
It appears that time has
Left her soul wounded,
Wherefore, her dearest
Love is running wild
Throughout the city for
Her cure.
Love has a way of
Churning the spirit,
Moving the psyche in
Many directions, but the
Rewards infuse the heart.
How does one turn away
From love?
Thus, when love is
Turbulent, one’s entire
World becomes vague—
And everything wearies
The soul unto heaviness
And sloth.
But when love is in
Alignment with reality,
One’s life has meaning—
Everything brings joy to
The heart, everything
Gives purpose.
I just pray that her soul
Heals gently, and her
Love loves her dearly.
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/19/2012 5:04:12 PM | Sophia
She is the color of my heart:
The surge throughout my being;
The angel within my mind;
The source of my indecision.
She is my aphrodisiac. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/19/2012 6:50:12 PM | Delusion
I was chained to a vision.
I knew not the limits of
Reality. Something inside
Drove me into the future.
Now here I sit the city’s
Buffoon. But I yearned to
Become something special—
Something special to a
Sacred soul.
Did I accomplish my goal?—
Doing such from a distance.
Or shall I remain a broken
Portrait, lost in prayer?
I am a weary spirit, desperate
To escape a delusion; but it
Is forever present, despite
Hours, even months of
Meditation. How do I make
Sense of phenomenon of this
Magnitude? Is it truly a
Delusion, or even an illusion,
Or have we stumbled upon
A deeper pleat of existence?—
Something solemn and
Inexplicable, even
Imperceptible! Something is
Upon me. It is her presence,
Forbidding me from taking
Refuge within myself. Are
We experiencing the same
Phenomenon?—for if we are,
How is she holding up?—for
Daily I am drowning in the
Essence of an indefinable
Force.
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/21/2012 10:53:18 AM | Secret
She is a delicate soul,
Even an alluring spirit.
I was drawn to her from
Day one. But I never
Divulged my secret.
She is a junoesque
Masterpiece, electrically
Surging throughout my
Being.
She once made
Herself known to me. I
Was taken aback,
Drifting through time.
I wonder if we could
Recapture a virgin’s
Love, as she vibrates
Throughout my person.
I wonder if our love
Would slay us in the
Spirit, for we are both
Charged with energy.
To feel her soul,
Freefalling into my
Being, unto
Incarnating the Daystar,
What could be more
Exhilarating; for
She is a delicate soul,
Even an alluring spirit,
Communicating through
My person, by way of
Mystic undulations.
But I shall remain silent,
Dwelling in the shadows,
Smitten with an angelic
Force, keeping my secret.
Naive | |
|
| Woman of my Desire
Posted: 2/21/2012 4:55:39 PM | Woman of my Desire
I can only hope that my
Heart beats in your soul
As the music enchants
Your senses, for my visions
Are noxious of another
In your embrace. But I
Realize the night is fallen,
The spirits are taken over,
And the call of nature
Hovers over the
Countenance of your
Gloriously chiseled to
Perfection frame. If was
In your presence, I would
Burn continuously, begging
Venus to strike you with
The intensities of my
Passions. Then we could
Not break free of the
Magnetism of currents
Borne. But in time
Pondered: let the light be
Gentle to my thoughts; let
The war of my senses find
Refuge to rest therein; and
Let the spirits of the rising
Sun protect you in godly
Motion. | |
|
| Such to Cherish
Posted: 2/26/2012 3:03:21 PM | Such to Cherish
My ambivalent amore, source
Of my confusion, the room has
Become smaller—as I gaze into
A chandelier, musing upon your
Presence.
Are you not a keepsake? Falling
Into the sun, glowing for all to
See. Assuredly, I’m doting. But
A goddess is before me, despite
Your distrust of mirrors.
My brilliant muse, locket within
My churning soul, you have
Become the sound of eternity,
Resonating through the orchestra
Of my spirit.
Within my psyche, your picture
Is within a frame, where I sit and
Dote, praying that your soul is
In the hands of mystic wholeness—
But I feel pain.
I yearn through the day, my
Distant friend, wishing that I
Could wash away the malaise, on
Both ends of the spectrum. But I
Am truly a dreamer of dreams.
And albeit I am a foolish man,
Walking down a lonely highway,
Aware that we shall never be, I
Am reading into mystic vibrations,
Feeling the frequency intensify
When I utter your name,
Confirming that our spirits are in
Communication. Thus, the
Mystery is such to cherish, and I
Shall, in the spirit.
Naive | |
|
| It’s all a Mystery
Posted: 2/26/2012 6:11:38 PM | It’s all a Mystery
With all my soul, I love
Lost in the waves thereof
Eager to embrace my mystery.
O’ how I adore my dove
Meditating within the grove
Puzzled by our brief history.
If only we fit like gloves
We could love and rove
Throughout the vast city.
Naive | |
|
| It’s all a Mystery
Posted: 2/26/2012 6:51:54 PM | the sacred dance
two souls weave
is not by chance
for i believe
all is divine
like a beacon's sign
the source of love
the flow of our blood
all carries this light
from the night before time
innately designed
to not be defined | |
|
| It’s all a Mystery
Posted: 2/26/2012 7:35:12 PM | to not be defined
is a love divine
moving one's soul
to speak and dance
to a tune which only
the spirit can conceive,
but I try... | |
|
| It’s all a Mystery
Posted: 2/26/2012 7:41:00 PM | | you do well... secret...a beautiful journey | |
|
| It’s all a Mystery
Posted: 2/26/2012 8:06:22 PM | It’s all a Mystery II
Without love, I live in barbwire
Soulfelt pains setting me afire
Leaving me to burn in flame.
Without love, I burn with desire
Fraught with agony in dire
Need of a love to claim.
Without love, I walk the wire
Where either side is set afire
What must I give to gain?
Naive | |
|
| It’s all a Mystery
Posted: 2/27/2012 2:57:36 PM | Abyss of Dreams
What became of me?—
Drifting through various
Dimensions, falling into
The abyss of dreams.
I was there, detached
From myself, dwelling
Within the chamber of
Masquerades—the only
One present. I fell into
A fairytale, composing
To break free, only to
Fall deeper into the
Abyss of dreams. What
Would urge a man to
Give himself over to
Illusions?—wrestling
With reality, walking
Through a vortex of
Visions, freely immersing
Myself in unreality.
What became of me?—
Acting out of character,
Causing fear to emerge,
Temporarily lost within
The jungle of the psyche,
Warring with my deeper
Self—even falling enlove
With a mystery.
What became of me?—a
Riddle unto myself,
Fighting to return home.
Naive | |
|
|
|
|
Page
77
of
85 (45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85)
|
|
Home
login 