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#connotation
art must be a message delivered through the scrappage of noise... "compression machine", they had called it one's mouth! i do wonder, what weight of the cosmos holds a word into a single point yes, it is what i had thought. connotation had been rewarded with my enemyship notion's cradle: reverse or backwards; frigid or frozen? was it both or none? where had all these words been strung? squelching pulsar neural connotation ellipse starlight meat grind cartilage crawling heaving weariness, dew Then, is spring metallic or leafy? it doesn’t come easy Yes! That. is what i have been trying to say. **** my stupid rhyme life
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Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 6:55 PM UTC
connotation
You’re a wolf - A connotation. You’re a breed of imitation. You’re a guise among the sheep. Snagging lambs while they’re asleep. Your smile sings with consonance - but your howls vibrate with dissonance. You’re a liar with eyes of fire - The termination of my desire. You sparked a change in my perception. You were the Alpha of pure deception.
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May 25, 2023
May 25, 2023 at 1:13 PM UTC
"Wolf Boy"
Lest you forget! Each definition in itself carries a connotation— You'll always be something more
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Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:13 AM UTC
More than what defines you
Darling, please tell me When you hear my name mentioned Once in a blue moon, on quiet afternoons With all the time that has passed between us Do your bones still jump and dance with joy, Awakening and reigniting the old feelings That you once held so passionately for me? Or do you feel the opposite and burn from the inside out, Your blood boiling, heart racing, muscles aching because the sound of my name alone can no longer tame the raging war you’re battling inside?
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Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
Name
baby, he called me with such desire with such a cold heart what is the connotation of your love because, sometimes it is hard to tell if its even existent since if it isn't desire you call me baby with such a cold heart
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Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC
desire
Scratching scribbles across the page: Meaningless if rearranged. Meaningless scribbles scratched, Until meaning we attach. Scribbled meaning scratched in stone; Whatever it means, culture will erode.
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Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC
Scratching Scribbled Meaning
Deep brown color, messy as it’s eaten. Like something that failed to crunch. Brittle yet soft, rough and delicate. It can be fudgy, chewy or cake-like, topped with walnuts or apricot glaze. A heavy horse failing to hike the high mountain of crisp. Hard on the outside, but not as taut as chocolate-chip cookies, or M&M;’s, A fragile strength that breaks with subtle touch. Smooth and moist inside, melted chocolate held together. Created solely for a royal’s mouth to taste, Slowly dissolving, sea foam ****** by the damp sand, A guilty pleasure I cannot live without. The brownie becoming a beautiful bouquet blossoming In my chocolate tinted mouth. It cures whatever ails you, The flavor empowering any mist of dullness or bitterness. Forgetting about everything, as he mixed the batter Creating the perfect combination of smoothness, sweetness, And the creamy after-taste. Our favorite thing to bake together. Friday evening we scurried to the kitchen, creating our own baking contest. His hazel eyes, swirling with the batter poured in circles, His lips, whistling to the beautiful sight of brownies, plumping as they bake. Days later, we would come back to that kitchen, With the scent of freshly baked brownies still lingering in the air. We would look at each other’s deep brown eyes Like the brownies we baked and enjoyed together. His lips, a wallop of sweetness.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Brownies
Poetry is beauty because of its ambiguity It's not black or white Or even gray It's indigo skies Golden rays of warm light. It's bitter morning frost on the hood of your car, Sweet squishy sand in St. Tropez. It's the thud of a heartbeat, The silence of a blink. It's the emptiness of the mind And the ingenuity that fills it. Poetry is nothing... But boy is it everything.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
Opinion of a Poet
Lost: It's an adjective It's a past-tense verb It's a TV show It's a state of mind. It's how I describe myself; I've lost friends I've lost feeling I've lost hope I've lost heart I've lost faith. It's hard to admit being lost, But it's the first step in being Found.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Lost