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jee Dec 2018
the way the water flew through our lungs
and bled through the cracks in our skin.

bubbling, brimming

the sea touched my eyes and you were white
with effervescent foam, curdling between lashes,
phosphorescent silvers pooling over stark blues
on fingertips.

sinuous, submissive.

the shaded cold mixed with the rainbowed salt
over baptized shells.

we breathed out our abtruse mist to cry over esoteric crashes of thunder.

enigmatic, flowing.

you are an acrobat, my prideful tide.  

your steel waters cleanse the melancholy mud
through my eyes
and glassy waves wash, twisting and curling,
releasing through our petrichor.
im sorry that i sought you.
your poisonous solace was my shield.
Jonathan Benham Jan 2018
Endless ropes tangle and grab
each individual omnipotent thought
of pleasure, denied gravity.
Slowed down, brought to frivolous
thoughts of relapse.
Speeding through the flimsy nature
of the ropes final stance.
A noose of the future.
A pivotal moment in comprehending,
all of this temporary fixation of
tragic dead-weight.
I am nothing but god’s will, contrary
to the greater good.
The ropes rip through themselves and idealize
Mistakes.
Pleasures.
Fixations themselves, alone and without
a viewable malice.
Distance is a deliberate blemish.
I don’t need to view myself.
I am falling through the ground and reaching
a turning point. Again. And again.
Faces and voices alike mean nothing until
I beg for forgiveness of myself.
Drifting between pressure tantamount to
torture in solitude.
Anyway, anytime,
I am succeeding in being alone.
Where is the recognition?
This pleasure, is it faux?
Grandiose indeed, a desperate attempt
at reaching a point where days
that exist and have existed are
superficial.
This recovery is relapse.
I will fall back, the ropes
still begging to hold me.
They speak my name.
My name is everything to them.
They are in abundance, but
I am obsequious.
It is all fake.
It is a testament to the reality of it all.
I will grab myself,
pulling as hard as I can until the ropes
snap and I return to a brooding state.
I ruminate.
The rumination expands and breaks my body.
Will I ever return to bliss?
Or was I never there?
Blemished and weak,
always there. I bloom.
Grandiosity returns,
the ropes rekindle their romance in twos.
It all ends.
I have failed my reckoning.
This is reality.
A twist of fate that can only be seen,
by god himself.
Whomever he may be.
I would like to meet him.
He sounds like I would like him.
I love him.
He is eternity, is he not?
The journey is dreadful,
but the return is remorse.
Nothing is right and nothing is wrong.
Either way, I am hanged by ropes I
have obliterated in a haste.
ConnectHook May 2017
It's about loving what you do for being who you are, tooting your own horn to celebrate yourself as you tumble out of your blog right on your Facebook. It's all about the you in you showcasing  your own self to show what you got and prove why you're the star. The next big thing in social media: it's so over now. The new platform was old hat before you even upped the stats while tipping your hat to the old social platforms. Why? Content. It's all about posting original content so you can get caught in your social media network, haul yourself to shore, and fillet yourself on Twitter. It's about drinking outside of the box, parked, with a beer on your dashboard. Upping the stat-check until the chat stacks its own status update without you. It's about getting the apps BEFORE they are released so you get in on the ground floor as they leap from the burning upper levels. It's about following yourself until they know that you know that the blind are leading the ditch-diggers to water.  Work smart, fish smart, let the net do the work as you socially engage the fish community on social media.

-- Facebook boosted ads is where it’s at in posted social advertising.
    
-- Instagram is a serious branding tool for brands of any kind, especially for ranch-hands of free-range cattle, cowboys and indian tech gurus.

-- Boosted posts do well if you want posts to boost more frequently than existing fans or their friends.

--You know your In-platform ad tracking analytics are top-notch when your train leaves without you from Big Six platform.
Ormond Oct 2016
.
*Zombie ego shouts
Among bloodless dead columns
That I once had lived
vox populi:
: popular sentiment
Origin: Latin, voice of the people.
First use: circa 1550
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