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:)
:)
If you don't
Plan for what you need
You won't get what you
Want
A smile for those are having a bad day.
There were stars around your embrace
As if the sky wanted me whole
Some words were so right and enlightening
That they squeezed me tight
Bringing out the stardust on this night
Leaving me shapeless as the distant corners
Of an unexplored parallel universe
Where love is alive at midnight.
It is 11:11 now
In one minute
I will cry more
Than the entire day
Dry tears
Remembering our late night talks.
She has a mask
For every day
When she loves me
She can't kiss me
As she's got 20 masks
But, the one she has on
Is the one that protects me
From the years of struggle
And destiny
With her I know I am a real person
But, when I cough
She thinks I've got the pandemic
I wonder if love's a serious disease
Or COVID
What have I heard in July
It is a month and the rain still pours like crazy
I know I will tumble into the grey mud
Like a rolling stone that aims too high

Rock into dust, dust into wind lot like a lazy sun
Comets turn into stardust, dragonflies lose their wings
There are steady grasshoppers on the path to redemption
As I am letting out my frustration and anger

Like whirling into a vortex of wrath and presentation
Thunders will roll into thunder
Boxcars, boxcars and boxcars will flood the snowy streets
I have will have no possessions, all drenched in a sad life

Just my life, the sun shines on me
The moon has always been the backbone
I wander and search for the stars on the famous skies
Looked at by commoners and burning in iciness
I am hanging from the inches.
At night
It rains
I gazed
I could see
At the sky
The sunshine
The beautiful day
As pure as ever
To walk on
I had my pride
A mirror looked
Back at me
My hair was all wrong
From the storm
The candle burned
In the back
My papers lay
A fire burns honestly
To keep me warm
Wondering when
All happiness
Arrives
I tried a format which I have been noticing gain some due notice.
Me and my girl
We got a thing going on
We got some understanding
We got some love to give in
We got some lessons left for learning
We got the same things in common
So, the same feeling stays with her
As I love you in the morning
The breeze flows through her hair
Our strength, our history
Leaves me weak in the knees
I just want you near, here by my side
So, when are you coming back woman?
We had a thing going on
People talk about death
As if it is the end
Sometimes I see it as a beginning

They tell me that a person expires
When there role is played
And they have done there part

Sometimes I think this body of ours
Is made of wood
The older it grows the more it has to offer

Many people die before their time
People talk of death among other things
These are the very people who should be allowed to grow
No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true
It is often said
That living is the rarest thing
Some people merely exist
I can promise myself this
That the rivers will flow
And the trees will bring wood
Fish don't have feelings
But, innocence fades
That is what clears my conscience
The iota of ephemeral contrast
I can sustain a worthy purpose
Which may have a fleeting foundation
One of immense virtue
That a plebeian approach cannot understand
If I take the crooked path
I can walk among my peers
Who have been waiting
For me
To live free as well
But stand strong I must
As I gaze into an abyss
Without purpose
Undoubtedly determined
I can do something, methinks
Instead of doubting my own perception
Yet, I cannot predict
When the diurnal birds will go in abmigration
I simply forget
Some skip south much of autumn
I cannot remember
When will the solitary tree lie bare
The weather behaves like an intelligent child
No one knows where the wind goes
If you ask why, you question your wisdom
Only you and yourself
Can find the purpose
For the phenomena within
That tells you to move on forward
Contrary to popular wisdom
Until the final beat of an unseen presence
Ushers you into its arms
And like an abyss staring back at you
Tells you there is no rainbow down there
To confirm your fears
Or affirm your immense virtue
Your glory fades
When death holds you closer
Sic transit gloria
Serious poems are tough to read
I like poets who can express themselves
Through realism and simple words
Ironic...
We were traveling
Moving in a train
The railroad passed us
As the night came upon us
My eldest son said,"I know it is night here, always."
That's when I knew he missed
His mother's embrace
Poetry is not tough
It cannot be taught
The outpouring of your heart
Feelings put into metaphor
Mingling a need into an art
Requires passion and courage

Poetry is a release
If you need to express your hurt
In many ways using less lines
Like a street full of people
Looking for their dreams in rush hour
Yet, you will never find it there

Because poetry is not tough
As it needs a quiet place
To talk about it's problems
And open his soul to you
Not self-conscious of the truth.
Psychic glockenspiels come from western civilization to steely dilation
The sun may rise and the Swede's dreams looking for hindsight and elation
A cinema mon amour, the compensation spreads like their legs on ovulation, it's Ninotchka's dilemma with fornication
Firstborn of the soft-core **** of the thorny copulating, and yonder lying in waiting till you're a ne'er zaftig
First-form soothsayers, and strides of samba spies salivating with charm, you're a tinsel town in the maelstrom
Lick your lips, and lickety-split, you're in the instigation of salacious mating
Of a **** of minor, and crime of a major elemental nature, you'll get sentencing from the abyss of vultures
Nine lives
A toss of Indian change
Brings three lions
Tomorrow brings
My future
Inclined to the
axis of my
beginnings
The sun
sets on the best
of my abilities
As the east
brings the light
on the west
My aspirations
Stand the test of time
I seem to be
Tilting towards them
"The future belongs to those, who prepare for it today."-Malcolm X
The semaphoring of the secrecy, and the revolutionizing
Concept of secrecy and its state of mind
The mercy of the individuals, and analogous amalgam
The terse temerity of mindful me and the minefield of landmines
Stevie's blind, the organs plays through lyrical bombs
Sir Duke shone his light on the prodigal son, the goodness in the train of thought
Could be graded A, but, I'd give a plus anime for your animated expression and it was a gas
For the poor submission of the poetic device and honest heart with which you wrote your ravenous hunger in words of Arthur Milner
"Get out of my chair!"
There are no words only stomach grumbles, and the chair texts
I foolishly crave for spring lust, the autumn leaves are up next
They're raked like the Four Seasons of the Earth, like the raw dog of Iggy Pop
You can top-it up with cherry please, on top
Like the ice-cream and vanilla, and the talk of deriding each other
Popping this bubble would be make-believe like a shortcake
The winds of change
Come to travelers, dangerously defiant of denial
Although, denial comes with age
Here is you looking at me
Because you were once mine
Strong and alive
Now you shall be set free

The days pass by
I wish the night gave us better dreams
I remembered you with fondness
When you left my heart broken like a neglected cup

No sooner water flowed
Rivers overwhelmed by storms
Oceans by seas
Hurricanes raged towns and cities stowed

There was something beautiful inside
That never saw the light of day
It just is as crepuscular as a bad dream
That dreams are made of beauty

Unforgettable beauty lies in birds whose flight
One cannot judge lest they spread too far their wings
From the darkest eclipse
She was attired in the sun's warmth and hid the secondary light

After all, justice is blind
Like an ebullient cornet playing
Looking for symphony and awoke by purpose
Her life is music to remember
And home to the homeless

Autumn with thou angels breath
I'm accustomed to her face
Like reeds moving in and out of the wind
Touching the seasons four o'clock each day
If you stopped thinking
And started working
You could be the greatest thinker alive
It is the process of revealing oneself through which one can understand their infirmities and their powerless nature. Successful people will always build their lives around others. Because they are people who want to hear what they want to hear. But, being rich doesn't mean you automatically subjugate yourselves to the weaker philosophy and opinion of the crowd.

But, when we realize that we are different from the rest, therein lies our uniformity. In that clarity, you can see that your life is a search for individual truth. What is being unique?

Instead of a truth that is of cosmic proportions, we find ourselves in an abyss.

A child akin to his parents will think of how he can model himself. Notwithstanding, the parentage of a child becomes a vital factor in the moral upbringing of children. But, a child should be allowed to lead a life among the forests, oceans, and leaves rustling languidly. Thus, pursuing an education in the caprice of the divine and the grace of Earth.

That grace is not available in strictness of the cane, but it flows in the wings of birds.

Instead of forcing conformity on an infant, the perfect mother should propose that a child chose a path. They will react to the stimuli present in schoolyards, playgrounds, social gatherings. Later, a child explores a form of conscious intelligence. Here are places where children feel pressured to excel and become self-aware. But, that self-awareness comes from how close a child is to his parents. A child will never model his behavior to his parents unless he loves one of them more than the other. In other words, he respects one parent the more. It is enough for his subconscious to devise a manner in which he finds a partner similar to the parent he loves. But, the sole burden of pleasing the parent he respects forces him to model himself to the parent he respects.

In some ways, the partner a man chooses is someone he can never be. Free in the ways of the world, one with nature. In short, a child at heart.

This individual is made up of his prejudices, influences, and his little world of interests. Yet, instead of following the footsteps of the kinder parent, he replicates the behavior of the domineering figure of the house. A child's mind is made up from the moment he is born.
Small essay on the psychoanalysis of Freudian complexes and how they govern a person's future relationships as well as ****** endeavors.
The magical wind
Had cast its spell
But your hair was in your face
And your eyes would peer through

As soon as the clouds broke
And the lightning took the silence away
The sun glazed upon the horizon
Almost welcoming the ghost of winter
It was a sense of loneliness
That set me free
Now my friends are heirs of kings
As well as city directors
Whose address is unavailable
In directories or thin air
Such are seasons
Such are a handful of reasons
To walk in moonlight
Or to tread in broken harbors
In pale evening spread against the welkin
To touch your red skin once again
Hello my lover from spring
It was last June I spoke with you
I still go through those poems too
It has been forever since I changed the tulips, roses, and anemone

The flowers remind me of your ruby lips and their sweet taste
My Indie has quickly learned to sit and drop for a quick treat
But the thought of you lingers and stays
I promise to be with you soon in February

Hello my lover from this summer
I let go of the past because it is heavy
An ocean of worry no longer holds me back
I am taking the path of least resistance

You remind me of my mother
She has grown old and worn out her clothes
The effect you have had on me is profound
My writing because of you has turned youthful

The lover before you was cold as winter
Worlds apart we were but we tried
So these letters are an attempt to accept her
The reasons I have to love you outweigh my reluctance
Act
Act
Think about me
Pick up a phone
Once spoken, you know
Love is the only word
That binds us in torn hearts
Patching us up like broken birds
That haven't flown after dark
Every pain gives a lesson, and every lesson changes a person
Tea time snacks
And biscuits
Taken black and sweet
To see us in time
And space
There is some kindness in the stars
I just count my blessings
I tried to depend on you
Feel more than I could
Now all I have left
Is what I used to be

Drained of color
Void of life
Emptied of water and sun
A flower cannot grow freely
Under the bare, pale moon
As I burn hot and blue as a cold star
Hold me tight and secure tonight
If the leaves fall from their heights

In winter's heart, within the icy
Bring me close in your arms
Please let me love you with what's left of me
Only the tenderness of a summer breeze

This poetry lives on the mere thought of you
Building me up with strength
In the face of darkness, giving me light
Before I die in springtime
Paint and anoint all the colors
Bleed into one
Color my face into anyone, like a nosegay
If I love, it is because of you
Sometimes my heart yearns for wonder
It goes to the forbidden land yonder
Looking for a false sense of adventure
I hope to lose myself
Instead of finding myself
In more mysterious ways
Mystery
As we fly in the sky
If we sail through blue skies over pale oceans
I get an appetite for life
The birds sing with a fearful trill "Why don't you fly with us?"

As we sleep with the fishes
If we hold our breath as white sharks do
I get an appetite for living
The dolphins whistle "Why can't you sleep easy?"

As we dry up like ice
If my feet fall into sleet
I get an appetite for life
The polar bears roar "Why is it so hot these days?"

As we try to become primal
If I died hungry
I'd be part of the wild
The animal kingdom looks for a suitable answer, that is biological
Avidly adventurous
Misses her old self
When compassionate
Among strangers
I'm riding the quick cars, and rising tides
Im writing songs that thoughts cannot keep
So I bid adieu to these feelings
Thou est speak
Separately and in speech
Your life shys from the light
Where is your violent life
In purple bruises or redness of your cheeks
Just like a child afraid of the dark
Turns into the bard of barren times
Laconic about his problems
And inclement about his cumulus
The turbulent seas finally shine on this sunset line
Burgeoning bright oars from the stygian life
The tridents push you into the frescoes of reconnaissance
As you lose control of your helm
Your poem comes to a pensive finish
Making someone's poetry better and brighter ad
Cantankerous about fuliginous lines and the velleity towards writing disappears
Some lines for your frostbitten ears
That feel like the heat of icy burn of some desolate polar boreal search
Some of you might think this is a bit esoteric, but, the first time I've figured out this beautiful and extinct language.
You will have to speak up
For the hurt

You will reach heights
To escape life's lowly sights

She will have to hear
All you have in here

Let go of your fears
This is what she needs

You need to tear her apart
To go back to the start

Tear into her
With a curse
Don't be afraid to fly.
I love your work truly
The cascading fists poke at the air
Lay out open with a quirk
Everyone has unclenched the trigger
Their anger for the power and danger

Open up the barrel
This is the end of the quarrel
Let us save the children
Hate us if you cannot end the story

The ship has sailed to dust
As we picked up a man
In a ditch of dust
In Richmond in a vagrant caravan

My father was among us
Now he arrests with duty on the door
Who jump buses run afterwards
Never seen a hurricane before

We talked everyday
His teeth would show
As his veins pulsated
With a vagrant atmosphere around him

Scared of violence
He walked in the office
As an alcoholic
Before realizing he did the same before

With a breaking heart
A uniformed soldier
He took out a pistol once
An anachronism for a toy soldier

He shot himself
The breaking windowpane
Shattering the silence in the room
As the blood sprayed and the smoke crushed him

No advice left in him
To keep promises
To which woman
This has no effect
I was once in love with her
Her heart had no architect
Such is her beauty so interwoven
In mine and my fate I had not expect
I see men
Christen the streets
With the same innocence
They show their friends in need

I see women
Touch the pavement
With the same touch
They feed their children

I see children
On both sides of the road
With bowls in hand
Asking for more
"I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."-Jack Kerouac
You are a part of this di scion
A fallacious stride hurts your articulus genu
Genuinely sore wa tsumete wa, kokoro ko nanda demo natte
Genus and class doughnut matter when you're in the dorsal shadow
Underclassmen stifled by the pernicious tsuakata kumorobi do
Flying on swift imagination, rare as imaginary folklore
I wish I could fly and soar
le non affecté de la gêne que nous allons de
Let us then go, you and I
Into the evening spangled across starry skies
Will you bring the day to its end
As I get off at the next station
Part 17
The universal energy
That keeps me together with you
Is the same reason why stars seem huddled up in the night sky
Even though we are of different sizes, and quite far apart
Sigh
At the beggar's banquet
There are two kinds of worker bees
One in the blows of the breathless insects
With pollen for keeping, and the food they cannot respect
But, the honey lingers like the sweet
The lingering smell
Of the dew
Of a thousand years kept in a hidden hive
Imaginatively, the prey to the work was just canonical
And I worked really hard for my canines
And the square of that lines up with the 6 sides of a cell
Of nine lives
Like a cat curious enough to shake the hornet's nest, three times
I looked for inspiration
For so long, when you
Arrived, I had none left
Then, I stopped searching
And kept waiting.
Since, you've been gone
The lotus flowers have flown
The rivers are ceaselessly flowing
But, the trees have no roots and cannot rustle in harmony
Mama, the land was ours

Since, I left our God-given farmland
The skies have turned grey
The heavens are heavy with rain
Both of us knew laughter
We only see a faint memory of it, today

Mama, the land was once ours
Will the rivers keep flowing in ravines
If you and I
Leave the withering wheat fields
To be washed away by the rain and broken streams
That hunger and dry sand has left behind

It takes more than money and friendship to tame our beloved country
Aftermath of this Crisis (Alternate Title)
It is the wind that guides birds through broken landscapes
Who are yet to find flight as they emerge chronically injured
Fire follows the fiery trail of what comes in its way
Of things that catch it or it assails, none come out the same

Nature's purpose is to give birth, but it also destroys
To grant worth to a weary traveler, it seeks a will to match the destination
To instill love in a thirsty soul, it catalyzes a deep-seated compassion
It also creates magic for the mystics who are of this earth with loftier ambitions

About which neither science nor math can enlighten us
It is an active pursuit of truth and self-defeating journey that is needed
Nature poses questions not as a test nor as a race, but as constant assessment
The result (good or bad) can come through authentic experience

Nature ushers me into a new order, perhaps I might flourish here
I have read the works of the greats trying to come closer to the outcome
Yet daily life is like a disturbed wind that has guided this ravenous bird
This mind cannot enter deep rest until the fire consumes the wealth of the earth

Ambition and greed are of this dry soil
From which grows the envy of others
It is hard, yet you have a choice
And the flower can be love, but you will have to toil
I know
About life
I have read every last page of the book
Before the reason to live changes

Some of us
Will think of warm embraces
And nudges
Among pretty girls

My doctor tells me
I cannot survive breaking
my heart
Reassuringly, I tell him my age
But, that is not life

Sometimes I wonder too much
Just as a bird thinks of spring from it's cage
Their song is like an adage
For the season to change rather quickly; watching it from a stage

You left me
I wondered why
Love is blind
But, that is not life

If I write something nice
It frees my mind
Opens my heart like a book
Reading it, that is life
Trying some poems in the style of Buk. Thomas, hope you like this, bud.
A couple of vegans smoking ****
Said we blaze together and the time has been better
Nonetheless, I could invite you to sacrifice your belief in life
And go lower in the food chain and join our plea
The peace brought by God's plant
Is illegal by the way
What the **** is animal rights activism then?
If a peaceful resistance is looked down upon
Among the backs of disregarded
There lay some purposeful
However, the literature does not talk
About ambivalence as the students of Aristotle
Such people became conquerors
However, there was some time before the enlightenment reached
The inability to observe is left with others ready to watch
Your heart is hidden
But your love is on my hips
Because you are sweet

Your invitation is on
The heart wants what it wants
My heart welcomes new love

I seal this envelope
With a bit of seething wax
You can open and see it, leaving a letter mark

My other country girlfriends can tell ever so sudden
I have had sweet love in my life
But, you're so social
June was standing in the middle of the crowded queue
She tucked a croissant into her mouth
Putting some sugar in her coffee
She held it in her intertwined fingers
That could clasp a vente and a job, in the beaten shade of the house
Maybe, juggle a phone call, amidst the donut aroma
Yet, she couldn't kiss someone with sugary lips, feeling shy not coy
In a coffee shop
I suppose whoever reads this
Knows deep down
Coffee shops don't sell romance to loners like her
Yet, she understands all the poetry books
Like I do, and she is the perfect girl
Who longs to be as beautiful as those females in poems
I want to tell her she is just right
Her jeans fit well
She thinks they are too tight for her lithe figure
Her shoes are too small
I like that she can compare our feet
Just like a child without insecurities
But, she is like the rain that closes down schools
The kind of storm that moves trees
Unaware of the damage she is doing to herself
And to the poet in me
Love can bring the poet out of a person, after all
Dedicated to this month of beautiful weather. And to the women I adore and support.
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