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jack-varnell
American I am not a hero, possess no fortune, haven't changed the course of mankind in any way. I am unaware of any whose life has been permanently altered by knowing me, and for the most part I know nothing about their lives today. On the other hand, I am no serial killer, thief, dictator , malingerer, or miscreant. I am not in jail or institution. Some were sure I would be. I am not dead. Bets were surely placed on how long Id last. / / Mine is a story the world could probably do without, but for me, it is one that must be told. / / “Sine amore, nihil sum”. Without Love I am Nothing.
Life lessons - left unlearned Our compulsion to stare at the sun - leaves eyes burned Victory through union and acceptance - easily gained. Escaping loneliness and its crimson stain ( entered in soulpoetrysite.com Acrostic competition---Jan 2010 WINNER) ** Loneliness- Overcome Vapidity- Escaped. ( entered in soulpoetrysite.com Acrostic competition--) ** Lessons learned, Our unblind hearts reveal our most Valued visions are Everywhere ** Life Lessons learned, Our unchained hearts reveal Victorious vision Escaping ** Leaving Out Vaccuous Emotion
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 2:45 AM UTC
LOVE Acrostics....
in the dark forest she is far above the ground. she feels the lift and fall of walking but feels comfortably paralyzed. beneath her, the shoulders of a man one who would carry her for miles and years. when she is weightless, or heavy with doubt. he is as unsteady as a leaf in the wind. she, like a feather floating, or on the crest of a round ****** river. she knows he will fall. because she is above him, she will fall further. it makes no difference. because the night holds up all around them. like great fields of poppies, or fluffy teddy bears worn from time.
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Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 9:46 AM UTC
-Assured-
(Authors note: I realize this is more short story than poem. I hope you find it poetic as well. Apologies in advance if this is not an appropriate forum.) Have You Seen This Girl ? I sat sleepy eyed one morning enduring yet another cardboard and treebark bran flavored bowl of breakfast with milk, 2 percent of course, and I stared at the carton. First I reviewed the measures of various fat content, and nutritional values listed as a matter of law. And as usual, I thought of you. This time by way of pondering the plight of the American Dairy Farmer and remembering it was the “corporatizing” of the independent dairy farms which led your family to other uses for the land they had raised dairy cows on for over a century. And I missed you terribly. To quickly shake the associated feelings of loneliness, and your face from my mind, I was drawn to the deep dark eyes of the child who was missing and apparently exploited on the other side of the carton. She had innocent, kind eyes that indicated she wouldn't even harm an insect. Curious eyes that would watch an insect for hours as it munched on grasses and leaves she fed it. She would be two years grown and two years older since last seen in blue jeans and a t-shirt in Amarillo, Texas, in the company of her biological father who was possibly armed, dangerous, and driving a pickup truck towards Mexico. Or Canada. And it struck me. You needed to be on the side of a milk carton. 2 percent of course. At some point in our life together, you had been kidnapped. Whoever was responsible had gone to a lot of trouble to replace you, to carefully drop you right back into my life. It was a great attempt but finally my belief that the real you would never do the things you did to me were validated. You had the misfortune of actually having an “evil twin” and corporatized or not, it seemed only the Dairy Council could help, since there is no Center For Missing and Exploited Adults. Big red letters screaming “Have You Seen This Girl ? ” were what we needed now. God knows I had recent photos, and could describe all of your features-distinguishing or not. I think tomorrow, I'll have French Toast. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on my work at www.emotionalorphan.net.
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Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 9:13 PM UTC
Have You Seen This Girl ?
(Authors note: I realize this is more short story than poem. I hope you find it poetic as well. Apologies in advance if this is not an appropriate forum.) Have You Seen This Girl ? I sat sleepy eyed one morning enduring yet another cardboard and treebark bran flavored bowl of breakfast with milk, 2 percent of course, and I stared at the carton. First I reviewed the measures of various fat content, and nutritional values listed as a matter of law. And as usual, I thought of you. This time by way of pondering the plight of the American Dairy Farmer and remembering it was the “corporatizing” of the independent dairy farms which led your family to other uses for the land they had raised dairy cows on for over a century. And I missed you terribly. To quickly shake the associated feelings of loneliness, and your face from my mind, I was drawn to the deep dark eyes of the child who was missing and apparently exploited on the other side of the carton. She had innocent, kind eyes that indicated she wouldn't even harm an insect. Curious eyes that would watch an insect for hours as it munched on grasses and leaves she fed it. She would be two years grown and two years older since last seen in blue jeans and a t-shirt in Amarillo, Texas, in the company of her biological father who was possibly armed, dangerous, and driving a pickup truck towards Mexico. Or Canada. And it struck me. You needed to be on the side of a milk carton. 2 percent of course. At some point in our life together, you had been kidnapped. Whoever was responsible had gone to a lot of trouble to replace you, to carefully drop you right back into my life. It was a great attempt but finally my belief that the real you would never do the things you did to me were validated. You had the misfortune of actually having an “evil twin” and corporatized or not, it seemed only the Dairy Council could help, since there is no Center For Missing and Exploited Adults. Big red letters screaming “Have You Seen This Girl ? ” were what we needed now. God knows I had recent photos, and could describe all of your features-distinguishing or not. I think tomorrow, I'll have French Toast. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on my work at www.emotionalorphan.net.
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No need for panic. The heat of the moment is gone. No, everything is not alright. But the honey sweetness of Love, dancing on the tongue like a memory lasts forever.   Only true love is truly innocent. Love and life are a chance, when there is a risk - self made. Give up Life for death? Love for friendship alone or romance? Not a chance.   He is firmly entrenched on the one side. She stays feet planted in her land. The floating distance that’s between them is something neither understands. One may be able to run from true Love, but once it’s found them, it will always track them down.   Sever an Achilles heel to stop the running. Yet they created the pain. Against Love they can be numbed. Then the only real pain is to feel nothing at all. How can lovers hurt when they have bridged the distance and are holding on to each other?   Their souls need Love, and the soul needs a mate. And for what the soul wants it will patiently wait. Sure there is faith, hope, *** but it’s mostly fear. A million things that might keep them here. Floating in the distance between them. Told as fiction it is mysterious and engaging. Like a nighttime fairy tale story. Trust the author and the view changes. And in the morning you will see. We cannot continue to hurt this way When I am holding you, And you are holding me.   120809g Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at www.emotionalorphan.net. >http://ow.ly/Ksxa
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Dec 9, 2009
Dec 9, 2009 at 5:04 PM UTC
The Mysterious Distance
No need for panic. The heat of the moment is gone. No, everything is not alright. But the honey sweetness of Love, dancing on the tongue like a memory lasts forever.   Only true love is truly innocent. Love and life are a chance, when there is a risk - self made. Give up Life for death? Love for friendship alone or romance? Not a chance.   He is firmly entrenched on the one side. She stays feet planted in her land. The floating distance that’s between them is something neither understands. One may be able to run from true Love, but once it’s found them, it will always track them down.   Sever an Achilles heel to stop the running. Yet they created the pain. Against Love they can be numbed. Then the only real pain is to feel nothing at all. How can lovers hurt when they have bridged the distance and are holding on to each other?   Their souls need Love, and the soul needs a mate. And for what the soul wants it will patiently wait. Sure there is faith, hope, *** but it’s mostly fear. A million things that might keep them here. Floating in the distance between them. Told as fiction it is mysterious and engaging. Like a nighttime fairy tale story. Trust the author and the view changes. And in the morning you will see. We cannot continue to hurt this way When I am holding you, And you are holding me.   120809g Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at www.emotionalorphan.net. >http://ow.ly/Ksxa
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39
It’s thought provoking and emotion evoking I feel like I’m choking, {Heimlich} Truer words have never been spoken by a dancing mime with only one leg. Minds have reeled Fates have been sealed Unknowns become real It’s a negotiated deal made by some lawyer with a soul. Tragic, Comedy- Tragicomedy Shipping-handling. As seen on TV. What’s the cost of free ? Nothing comes really, with a money back guarantee. Wash, rinse, repeat. Operators standing by- keep your seat. Stay out of the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat. And know your victory isn’t over defeat. Miller time- the best time of year But I’ll never need another beer, My life’s so complete when using Tampax. The latest miracle cure is as safe as anthrax. Who has time these days for voting, when I feel the blight of bloating ? There are no important politics or elections. When I have four plus hour erections but I bet my doctor won’t be the one I decide to consult. >>>>> Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at www.emotionalorphan.net.
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Oct 1, 2009
Oct 1, 2009 at 1:49 PM UTC
As Seen On TV