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Arcassin B May 7
By Abpoetry


Better know it,
Better believe it,
Its really coming,
There is no running,

Roses bloom , no more,
And the fruits kept sacred,
Mason jars less broken,
Evils comes , you better scope it,

Pleasing other people,
will not get you anywhere,
protecting your energy,
Fake as extincting bears,

Proven the innocence,
Some work 12 jobs and ****,
Take time to find yourself,
To be the best and ****..
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2025/05/know-it-wanna-be-your-lover-ode.html?spref=tw
a monkey
******
the art of kurt Cobain NOT  the music,  the Quay brothers inspired  paintings.

****** was a painter and pretty good at it too, better than most.
  A ***** perfectly sculpted  to have  the face of Bill Clinton.
Perfectly him.
So disturbing yet not at all.

The ******* ******* fake artist Jackson Pollack , (please don't ******* tell me about innovation. Any idiot can sling paint ). and his lame *** drug addled hillbilly cousin Andy the **** whit Warhol. Complete **** con man. ****  ***** and slime all the way through. Corporate repetition, not even imaginative. Not even original or innovative.
My opinion of art matters about as  much to  me  as mine does to you.;
  The difference is  I know better.
I produce and  I  am    better'
I don't see light and shadow and texture like you.
  I don't interpret  notes measures  tones and chords  like you.
I sculpt.  I compose. I perform.  Do I seem scared or ashamed ?
Why should  I be?

  I don't think and feel like  you,  thank god .
  Yeah, yeah we are all beautiful unique  ****** snow flakes  and all that      horse ****...
but are we?

Ever wonder how beautiful Ed Gein  really was?
A belt of human ******* . I'm assuming female.
Breast and  **** cheeks turned into lampshades. Coverings of chairs and. Bone creations.
Ever hear the one about that poor little girl who her drug abusing alcoholic idiot? Self lobotomized parents didn't want or need her, so they made her live outside. They treated her like a dog and they made her sleep with the dogs they didn't even care. They literally fed her scraps. The fact that this was allowed to happen or did actually happen. When the authorities came. Took her away. She couldn't speak. She didn't want to walk upright. She growled and snarled and sniffed for years. So what is my point?

Is it nature or is it nurture?
Are we all truly unique and beautiful?
Are we all snowflakes?
What if some of  us shine just a little bit brighter than the rest?
Or if some don't shine at all. What if they pull in light like an abyss? What if they are  darkness itself?
When we let the floodgates be completely open. So that we call anything and everything art. Who gets to judge? What does the judgment even mean if it's all just subjective?
How far am I really actually supposed to respect your opinion?
A monkey.
Or two.
******.
Don’t sell me plastic-wrapped trauma and call it brilliance.
Technique, skill, and vision used to mean something.
..... "you're right: culture tries to define love, hate, good, evil, tasteful, crude. But those labels shift with time and region. Talent doesn’t. Talent remains. "............; Corey Feldman
Mariah Apr 18
Grow! Grow! Grow!
Or you'll be left behind
How productive was your week?
Are you accountable for your time?

Tell me just what it is-
You bring to the table
How much would you profit me?
If you are even able.

Next! Next! Next!
Could you command a room?
Can you read context?

Tell me your greatest weakness
Is it also your greatest strength?
What exactly is your worth?
When you include your height and weight.  

Are you reliable?
Do you think you're personable?
How do you work with coworkers?
Would you share bathrooms with her?

How flexible is your time-
when in truth its actually mine.
Good answer, sign this line,
No need to know what this implies.

See you Monday, watch your breaks.
Be on time, don't clock out late.  
Remember there's no overtime.
My door is open anytime.

Welcome to the family.
Weekly breakdowns guaranteed.
Tour our facility, get to know the faculty.
We've had to lock the balcony,
apart from that small tragedy,
here we live quite lavishly.

First day's always the hardest one
Keep your head down till it's done
If you can bare the powderkeg
You can expect your weekly check

See you soon and don't forget,
You haven't even started yet!
In my job I sit and smile
And talk for a while
With each task that I do
I feel proud and so true
For this job I do
Because I love you.
A Job
I just want to be outside...all day.
Well, from 4 to 2 Monday thru Friday.
I just want to feel some pride.
Where whatever it takes is right.

I wish there was a place.
Trying my hardest, wasn't a waist.
Where I can learn from mistakes.
Without fear of shame.

To throw myself into whole.
Be glad to leave a bit of my soul.
To net a livable wage.
To live to buy and to save.

To have something to look forward to.
This is my wish I wish would come true.
It used to exist, but now just eludes.
I just want a job I want to go to.
A.R.M.
Postal worker.
Steve Page Feb 16
what could be harder
getting up before the dawn
beating a lone path

climbing into your cold cab

what could be cooler
sitting high above the snow
clearing a shared path
Thanks to John Scalzi for the idea.
You make me wanna
Buy a classic motorcycle
Quit my boring corporate job
And move to the Italian alps

You make me wanna stop
Piling up wasted days
And start living
And I'll always love you for this - even if it's nothing but a dream.
Àŧùl Jan 11
The night has ended,
And the dusk is stale.
A different dawn descended,
And the sun is shining pale.

There are some memories here,
Some more are hidden there.
I'm still lonely,
But I'd be lonelier
If not for my parents.

Now I work on my dream rate,
None was more appropriate.
My HP Poem #2039
©Atul Kaushal
Kai Nov 2024
I'm busy on break
Mind is at stake
Endless work and anxiety from school
Making myself a fool
To do hobbies to be burned out
Continuous counting about
My stitches
Constantly looking if my art needs any stitches
To bring it all together
Just to put it in the corner over there
Just so no one can see my drawings

I'm too busy on break
My wrists need a long break
Yet I can't pull away, it just feels so magnetic
I feel so hectic
I can never catch a single break because of myself
Just so I can put items on the shelf
Waiting to sell out

I want- no- yearn for a break
Yet I'm always busy on my week long breaks
Taking care of things left and right
It feels as if I can barely see the light
I hate it
Dealing with everyone's ****
Is this really the consequences of having a job?
Where I'm being renamed as Bob?
To the point where I'm so tired that I need to move every second so I can get untired?

I'm so ******* exhausted
It feels like I just got deported
Just tie me onto a bed
Make dreams go to my head
Make me go into a deep slumber
Now I don't have to cut timber
Make my muscles relax
Just so I can relax
Just so I can remove my eye bags
Get all the hot rags
And put them on my forehead
Whenever I'm in bed
So this sickness will go away
Just so everything can go away
Remove all the stress on my shoulders
And place them ontop of boulders
See if the boulders would break because of how much weight there would be
Just a poem about working on my break. It's taking a toll on my body but that's okay! At least I can see children happy! I'm sick right now and it's so fun!(Thanks Toby/Caesar for the sickness that I 100% needed!) Though, the sickness was talking about the work, you can use it in both ways 🤷
Todd Sommerville Nov 2024
Love doesn't have to rhyme.
It doesn't have to be shouted from the rooftops,
or written in the stars.
Yet it is a poets job to make it so
To elaborate, exaggerate, compare it to the incomparable,
Capture the unsnareable, share the unshareable. 
Like fingers finding fingers in the dark,
or tender hugs holding grief at bay.
The conversation of her eyes through a teardrop,
saying more than a million words could convey.
 And this is where we find the meaning of love,
in the quiet moments where no words are spoken.
Where tender kisses and soft touches
become a dance to the rhythm
of two hearts beating in unison, under a lover's moon.
Shared only in the reflections of their eyes.
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