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#do
limitation is relative relative is joined to everything everything knows no limits
0
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 7:51 AM UTC
love
what i used to say was why don't you care anymore? but it seems so clear now that you never did
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May 23
May 23, 2026 at 12:40 AM UTC
liar
my old adage poetry is where you find it, in every room in the house, every egress and exit, the passing conversation the desultory and the methodical, the overheard and the under heard the riff, and tha raff. many/not all/ children are climbers; a mountainous boulder in the Central Park, the steps of the nearest Mesoamerican pyramid, staircases with rooftop adventurous unknowns, there exists within many a child, the urgency, the compulsion to climb the ignorance of risk, is a specialty uniquely native to the very young, and disappears much sooner than later when the fear of heights becomes an early adult onset intuitive, sensory privation noticeably in the low legs suddenly gone weak but when you are the ripe old age of 5, 6, 7, 8, or even an odd nine year old child the tuition of intuition of gravity has not yet been fully paid, and scrapes and bruises are boo hoo here today, and though unwanted, are ****** gone on by the morrow morn, so any structure exist for the pleasuring of a thrilling challenge. (‘tis no accident that thrill and spill rhythmically rhyme) my point made. yet my seniority perspective inward on highest alert, as the granddaughter and the grand~niece scramble up, a high up shelf behind the family table, a shelf that was either deemed useful or decorative, but no one longer remembers the plain danger of something being being there, at the precise height of reachable and yet dangerous! that makes my half century warning bells go off like a firehouse alarm then I hear the young parents calling out calmly, perhaps, even wisely, do you have a plan to get down? in contradiction to my experienced instinct to run, to preserve, to protect the inocentes from the risks that only the protectorate of old grown ups can future envision instantaneously, and tethering seat belts are never where you would like them to be, a teachable moment, a life long skilling being put in place, and when so inquired, they scramble down with unforeseen ease by jumping down fearlessly from their latest attainments the day will come that a bone be broke, but not a heart or a mind, they are learning forever not to be afraid, when ya gotta plan to occasionally know how to step down. carefully, when you gotta just keep climbing, higher and higher.
0
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 2:32 AM UTC
Do you have a plan to get down?
my old adage poetry is where you find it, in every room in the house, every egress and exit, the passing conversation the desultory and the methodical, the overheard and the under heard the riff, and tha raff. many/not all/ children are climbers; a mountainous boulder in the Central Park, the steps of the nearest Mesoamerican pyramid, staircases with rooftop adventurous unknowns, there exists within many a child, the urgency, the compulsion to climb the ignorance of risk, is a specialty uniquely native to the very young, and disappears much sooner than later when the fear of heights becomes an early adult onset intuitive, sensory privation noticeably in the low legs suddenly gone weak but when you are the ripe old age of 5, 6, 7, 8, or even an odd nine year old child the tuition of intuition of gravity has not yet been fully paid, and scrapes and bruises are boo hoo here today, and though unwanted, are ****** gone on by the morrow morn, so any structure exist for the pleasuring of a thrilling challenge. (‘tis no accident that thrill and spill rhythmically rhyme) my point made. yet my seniority perspective inward on highest alert, as the granddaughter and the grand~niece scramble up, a high up shelf behind the family table, a shelf that was either deemed useful or decorative, but no one longer remembers the plain danger of something being being there, at the precise height of reachable and yet dangerous! that makes my half century warning bells go off like a firehouse alarm then I hear the young parents calling out calmly, perhaps, even wisely, do you have a plan to get down? in contradiction to my experienced instinct to run, to preserve, to protect the inocentes from the risks that only the protectorate of old grown ups can future envision instantaneously, and tethering seat belts are never where you would like them to be, a teachable moment, a life long skilling being put in place, and when so inquired, they scramble down with unforeseen ease by jumping down fearlessly from their latest attainments the day will come that a bone be broke, but not a heart or a mind, they are learning forever not to be afraid, when ya gotta plan to occasionally know how to step down. carefully, when you gotta just keep climbing, higher and higher.
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75
you destroy me every day like a cancer in my bones my own body eating me away until there is only the dust of you
0
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 10:17 PM UTC
hard to sleep
I do not know what to say, I can't keep quiet yet! When I see you, I want to run away Remember this, let me disappear! I'm burning up like a spark in the night. Nothing to say? Then be quiet. Your gaze beckons and intoxicates, It hurts my heart! It will lure you into the distance... April 21, 2026
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Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 5:31 PM UTC
I do not know what to say
To do or not to do I am ****** either way Because regret will follow me one way and the unknown another Perhaps I am doomed to fly, wax-coated feathers and all Doomed to soar over a world I will never hold And in a moment have it ripped from my mortal grip in the fall But yet maybe the Earth is my punishment, my wound Gravity and his hands always grasping and pulling My fear of flying my folly to fall It is of no matter if I do it or I don’t The time will pass anyway.
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Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 4:24 PM UTC
Do I or don't I?
from the musky mist of anonymous readers, all takers of low repute, stopper-by's on a voyage of self pleasuring I give you my pain, my infrequent joy, my five sensory historical compilation of voyeuring into a multi-felled, a multi-celled organism and u can't lift a finger to acknowledge your presence here is my rule of opposable thumbs, Mary Elizabeth, read not the last line, read not the last chapter like a novel, a cheap way, a teenage way to decide what to read if you read a poem all the way thru, top to bottom, if it holds you enough to make you go thru the whole of a body of art, if you hated it or loved it, or just sniff indiff the mere fact that it held you the mere fact that you held it, means that in some manner you liked it, or it captured your lazy eye so don't be a lazy **** click the like button, otherwise you are just a john or a ***** did you like that last line? 2:48 am
0
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
2:48am Do you have the courage to like a poem? (2014)
chocolate smile forever melting a licking of lips sweet reminisce
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Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 10:11 AM UTC
10w a kiss for Easter
Eu tinha um mundo inteiro pra te contar, cheguei a rabiscar cada segredo em páginas que o vento levou. Estraguei tudo antes mesmo de ter a chance de falar, mas sei… foram as mãos de Deus guiando cada passo meu. Você me era permitido, mas não me cabia. Por que demorei tanto pra ver? Teríamos poupado o coração de tanto frio. Com outra garota, viva os planos que fizemos em silêncio, ela seguirá caminhos que talvez eu não alcance. Cada sonho de casamento, cada saidinha, cada roupa combinando… ainda florescerá, mas em outro jardim, sob outro céu. Sorrio com o que rolou, porque nunca imaginamos que o amor que chamávamos de “nosso” teria fim. Viva cada instante, não olhe para trás, não carregue a “gente” nas lembranças. Não quero ser sombra no seu futuro, mas peço, leve comigo um pedaço da nossa conexão… ela sempre encontrará seu caminho, mesmo que seja em silêncio, mesmo que seja distante, mesmo que seja apenas memória doce nos cantos do coração.
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Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 6:22 PM UTC
o que ficou
I chose you over a blunt over a 5th of liquor I chose you over a family over a life I chose you all these women I chose you such a big planet I chose you what a small world I chose you sleepless night silent cries I chose you kingdoms world wars I chose you I chose you over everything I chose you over God I chose you over life over death I chose you Mariah you are mine I chose you walk the walk talk the talk I chose you silence no friends no woman just you because I chose you near death I chose you dying alone only because I chose you I love you Mariah I won't give up i chose you so choose me heil king Z
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 4:35 PM UTC
"I Chose You" By: Zackavelli The Don
the last smile the last hug the last text the last walk to school together the last skip in the rain the last heartbreak the last kiss of fourteen for my birthday the last time you slipped your hand from mine the last time you left me the last promise broken
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Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 10:31 PM UTC
the last of us
i had memorized the way that you walked along the left side and how the biker guy every morning always rung his bell at you; i'd watch from all the way across the field and we'd run from opposite sides to meet each other in the middle but i was most times the faster runner i still know the way you blink when you don't get something in class and if you hadn't switched your history i would be watching i still remember the way you'd write confidently; you knew i believed you when you said "i love you."
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Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 9:15 PM UTC
i love you too
my love and the girl with the most ******* gorgeous heart and eyes: you may not think i think about you every day you probably don't for me; yes you deserve more than me someone who'll message you back right away who lives in your timezone and sees all your texts i might only be conceptual to you though you've seen me in pixels i might be theoretical or ai i'm as good as a stranger, i would know i wonder if you know that i miss you all the time when you aren't there and i can almost imagine you lying awake when i'm waiting for your message back through the thousand miles
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Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 2:59 PM UTC
in another life i'd already met you
vivi this will be the millionth-to-last time i write about you again; this will be the time when i say my heart breaks every time i see you and i miss you like the moon is always only in earth's orbit, and i miss you like hell, love i miss you and i love you too
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Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 7:32 PM UTC
vivi
bandwagons sold a penny a dozen too many to choose from so you jump from one to another
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Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 9:11 AM UTC
fashion, conspiracy, bandwagons
yes a daily first questioning of the day, at the same time, same place! 6:00AM and in my face. a philosophical and social question, a rejiggering of a rigging triggering reminder rigorous! of your need to proof one’s continued human existence, the value thereof, urgently needy to justify your self, to your self, Herein, A Proof, by allowing your eternal internal spark your sparking sparkling justification for you to probe and prove, why chance made made you for a good and for better, and not for nought, by creating something new, you add oxygen to our shared atmosphere, making all, our breathing intended to be better…. just a tad easier <nml> ~and the day begins~ with an answered Yes!
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Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 7:13 AM UTC
A Proof: Do You Know Where Your Poem Is?
they are stored in clear or clouded, states of liquidity, kept in Mason jars or empty milk gallon jugs, perhaps their exterior container, needs an occasional rag wipe, but the character of the content fermenting, never + always, achanging <> to read and write: my particular & peculiar muses awaken me, @ 3:50 am, which is when the hootenanny, commences, with an open mike for you to share! for at the hoedown barn dance in the town of my mind, tones of slapping toes, hand clapping, foot stomping, stolen kisses, shy glances, free~given that would waken any red blooded poet to instant alertness <> this then my “intro” to this, a new day: my field’s fertility of rows of planted poems, survive 3 foot snow coverings fallen, (my mixed tape of dreams) and green shoots busting out of loamy soil with its equal-proportions of sand-silt- n’ clay, sweet and salty nouns & verbs of fine herbs <> there is no such thing as too many poems, even no-good ones, just, many ***** boors booing~hooing skewering & slurring, deadwords freshly spawning from the polluted ponds of small minds and distempered abhorrent arrogance <> and I thank anyone still who politely inquires,“do I still write poems?” “why yes,” me replies, “with simple syrup certainty, for I’m always continuously searching for my perfect epitaph, my next poem, my last poem, to take with me to the gravity of my grave, come for a visit, to hear me last~laughing, way out loud…”
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Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 4:43 AM UTC
4:28am: my poems do not collect dust; yes, I still write poems every **** day
Late in life consciousness softening to so fine, some fretting for money sake, suckering dingdingding alarm all to arms, to arms, awake a woken giant, just as justice was about just guess, whom to pin the tail on, whose wonder years, had no screens, if you don't count oscillator wave rectification representing signal strength, we thunk splash ripple popped fifteen famous minutes, once we could kinda tune in to countries in Africa, once we heard people happy to become national once births of nations, happened several times, Dubcek spechekslopif if if if only actual Max Headroom real wasation sensation tic tac TOE the line, balance matters at this point, testing precisely the one everity, are we or were we once certain we comprehended boundless mercy?
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Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 2:17 PM UTC
Resting in Peace while we live, we remember
have mined so oft my core, it is quite the hugest bore, this morning, a rare overflow, the poems drop like sniffles, wet rom!com teardrops, and plenty more to follow, as my storage unit runneth over, and the author-o-rities complain I’ve taken too much space on the internet’s gigga~giggle~light~bytes; but the stomach reminds mas, mas, so I’ll wander to the kitsch~en for some stocky sticky whipped almond/peanut butter, which has proven the most effective stopper of my fingertips, them compositional angels, and dem muses, who beg me for to lick my fingers, to distract me from working them overtime no sense of humor, those amusing muses…
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Jan 24
Jan 24, 2026 at 9:33 AM UTC
for whom do I write? why, for you, of course!
Could someone please take me from here There is a house on my wall with the lights on I keep waiting as if someone will appear I stand at the door, swaying with ease Still waiting for it all to go wrong Could someone please take me from here It's wrapped in vines and dead leaves Built to last, all its stubborn locks I keep waiting as if someone will appear Seasons pass, and I pull at my sleeves I have longed as days have gone Could someone please take me from here Eyes closed, still the shape is clear I stand where the door was drawn I keep waiting as if someone will appear I can never know if they will hear This stillness of mine, a wish to belong Could someone please take me from here I keep waiting as if someone will appear
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Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 6:16 PM UTC
As If Someone Will Appear
all on the road home some have wandered far away some are resting by the way some are forging ahead some are completely lost and at times I have been all these and will be again
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Jan 13
Jan 13, 2026 at 10:27 AM UTC
all on the road home
i knew that you found my account at the start; you read all my poems and talked to me and you asked all the time if i was alright i knew that you knew and vice versa, but L, are you still there? i haven't heard from you in so long.
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Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 6:07 PM UTC
are you still reading?