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#haste
We seek to pass the time as if to rid ourselves of trapped discomfort, somehow brought on by the excess of it, rather than cherishing the little we have, blissful in its scarce passage. We speak of passing time as if it were a leisurely pursuit, but in truth, it passes us too fast to slow and lounge with us. In truth, we must rise and ride, lest we chance falling behind.
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Aug 15, 2025
Aug 15, 2025 at 3:05 PM UTC
Passing the time
NOTE: I intentionally Reversed (FINE and DANDY to DANDY and FINE) but you guys get the idea same concept!!! Rise and Grind!!!! as the Sun starts to shine, Wipe the sleep from your eyes, Come on, IT'S GO TIME!!!, COME ON AND MAKE HASTE, YOU GOT NO TIME TO WASTE, GOD WOKE YOU UP THIS MORNING, of HIS LOVE and HIS GRACE, so give GOD THE PRAISE, for this BRAND NEW DAY!!! Before you hit the streets, DO NOT FORGET TO PRAY, OH, THE BEAUTIFUL SUNSHINE, full of BEAUTIFUL SUNRAYS!!! BLUE SKIES, NO CLOUDS, NOT EVEN A SIGN OF RAIN, So, start your day off, feeling DANDY and FINE, I hope you have a GOOD ONE, Once again, RISE AND GRIND!!!! B.R. Date: 6/8/2025
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Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 9:14 PM UTC
Rise and Grind
to what end wrestle ye with spirits in truth, not a true Jungian complex if we slip the knot, now, who started the dispute about right useness? Table manners at a Norman Rockwell reenactment. As eldest, I let my peace, first comfort me, then extend, as joy in truth is our strength to use, facilitate wait to see, which chocolate each remembers - it's me as the never has been grand father - establishing the fact that life remains as much like a box of chocolates as any random chance choices acting a fan of symbiology on holiday l'chaim made so by holy symbolic life experience changes in the Christmas story, the one where Mary's matters, she being Luke's prime source, James the Wise's mother, Mere and pure, indeed, one idea peaceable at nomination, wise at the taste oh, the beguilement, we can make secrets, ours, alone, eh, holy ordained layer on of hands, no, holy transcriber of tongues, there are enough inspired utterances ex cathedra ala Azusa Street, and radio mind trust building framed information, so greedy deep that to this day, knowers feel the genuine pain of wasted peace, invested in hate needed to consume according to planned economic impression therapy, reset… wars for old ignorances of custom, fief fee fidelity 501 c3, proven non profit… duty due the personal will to say why right works and wrong does not… to tell the whole Bible story, as imbedded in a disciple to the kind of being we form, as rowdy boys let run a little wild as has been practice in war societies, or has been so fictional-ated as to make no never mind what if, ai ag us on one eclipse explanation, sheer luc, by any measure You gather all your experience, pick any 27 years, in acquisition sequence ------- I can remember thinking different… -- what more can a rescuer Dad attempt, temptation to avert a train wreck, praying to be led away from adversity endured, enjoyed remembered, encouraged to let this mind be, in you, be ye bond or free, be leaving the lessoning about to be wished loose, as one's equivalent knot, to a yoke, broken in the acceptable fasts, we agreed, let every yoke be broken, set the captives free, enforce reality, or else, enjoy making up your own mind, given the exact same mind, liturgically, as the blessing of wisdom settles on us, as we witness the weform this mind takes and we feel light headed.
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Dec 27, 2024
Dec 27, 2024 at 6:59 PM UTC
Private Interpretation, prejudiced
to what end wrestle ye with spirits in truth, not a true Jungian complex if we slip the knot, now, who started the dispute about right useness? Table manners at a Norman Rockwell reenactment. As eldest, I let my peace, first comfort me, then extend, as joy in truth is our strength to use, facilitate wait to see, which chocolate each remembers - it's me as the never has been grand father - establishing the fact that life remains as much like a box of chocolates as any random chance choices acting a fan of symbiology on holiday l'chaim made so by holy symbolic life experience changes in the Christmas story, the one where Mary's matters, she being Luke's prime source, James the Wise's mother, Mere and pure, indeed, one idea peaceable at nomination, wise at the taste oh, the beguilement, we can make secrets, ours, alone, eh, holy ordained layer on of hands, no, holy transcriber of tongues, there are enough inspired utterances ex cathedra ala Azusa Street, and radio mind trust building framed information, so greedy deep that to this day, knowers feel the genuine pain of wasted peace, invested in hate needed to consume according to planned economic impression therapy, reset… wars for old ignorances of custom, fief fee fidelity 501 c3, proven non profit… duty due the personal will to say why right works and wrong does not… to tell the whole Bible story, as imbedded in a disciple to the kind of being we form, as rowdy boys let run a little wild as has been practice in war societies, or has been so fictional-ated as to make no never mind what if, ai ag us on one eclipse explanation, sheer luc, by any measure You gather all your experience, pick any 27 years, in acquisition sequence ------- I can remember thinking different… -- what more can a rescuer Dad attempt, temptation to avert a train wreck, praying to be led away from adversity endured, enjoyed remembered, encouraged to let this mind be, in you, be ye bond or free, be leaving the lessoning about to be wished loose, as one's equivalent knot, to a yoke, broken in the acceptable fasts, we agreed, let every yoke be broken, set the captives free, enforce reality, or else, enjoy making up your own mind, given the exact same mind, liturgically, as the blessing of wisdom settles on us, as we witness the weform this mind takes and we feel light headed.
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71
We keep racing down, and from what we hear the van -- has lost its exhaust.
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Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 4:18 AM UTC
[ We keep racing down ]
Who am i Before i was born What was i doing In the mysteries of the unknown Do i have a name Where do i call my home Did i say goodbye Before i was gave birth by my mom. Why did i chose my parents. Who carried me first, Who cleaned me up, Who wiped my first tears Who were my first friend Why do i have to be in haste Why do i have to die Where are you taking me to Am i going home ?
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Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 5:56 PM UTC
Conundrum
There will certainly be A great many of them Far readier than I’ll ever be O blessed unborn one Yet endowed with inexistence To whom mercy shall slip from And re-emerge in its awakening Beings past or below my shrinking age A great many among them Whom I once did or shan’t collide Beyond the captured scope of mutual days To relate to you what high events Unrolled before our common eyes Folks granted with the privilege Promoted to the status of witnesses Historians, athletes and prophets By themselves and their narratives I let them unroll their good accounts Forfeit their tales of what must be bound To mould your unsuspecting Circumspect mind and Save you from sensing Delicately sensing Voices that once knew more Than in haste speak Than with haste carry Daringly could the silence hear Untangle the mumbling tango Of the vociferous crystal parade My darling unborn one The tortuous path out of the forgings Of reason almighty, the ventricular beast Played and echoed in loops and on repeat No, you shan’t feast on their hymns Yours is meant for the engineering of belief In something further, of glory, Far more, furthermore, Something extraordinary Than the days of days And the knowns of knowns And to lodge firmly out of the stillness That’s woven in the heart of your chanting storm And in the precipice of the forecast May you never come to designate But the space between the notes So that when it comes not to ever pass We shall rejoice in the untold absence That binds us as if pierced by an arrow While we ask about the bow
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Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 6:26 PM UTC
Furthermore (2023)
There will certainly be A great many of them Far readier than I’ll ever be O blessed unborn one Yet endowed with inexistence To whom mercy shall slip from And re-emerge in its awakening Beings past or below my shrinking age A great many among them Whom I once did or shan’t collide Beyond the captured scope of mutual days To relate to you what high events Unrolled before our common eyes Folks granted with the privilege Promoted to the status of witnesses Historians, athletes and prophets By themselves and their narratives I let them unroll their good accounts Forfeit their tales of what must be bound To mould your unsuspecting Circumspect mind and Save you from sensing Delicately sensing Voices that once knew more Than in haste speak Than with haste carry Daringly could the silence hear Untangle the mumbling tango Of the vociferous crystal parade My darling unborn one The tortuous path out of the forgings Of reason almighty, the ventricular beast Played and echoed in loops and on repeat No, you shan’t feast on their hymns Yours is meant for the engineering of belief In something further, of glory, Far more, furthermore, Something extraordinary Than the days of days And the knowns of knowns And to lodge firmly out of the stillness That’s woven in the heart of your chanting storm And in the precipice of the forecast May you never come to designate But the space between the notes So that when it comes not to ever pass We shall rejoice in the untold absence That binds us as if pierced by an arrow While we ask about the bow
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49
Simulated tastes Emulated face Of a careless faker Think in haste, Take and you take, Living life as if it were a race What will you say, when you meet your maker?
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May 1, 2023
May 1, 2023 at 9:19 AM UTC
Box Trucks
What do you do for a living? I Live For A Living #NoPressure
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Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 6:21 PM UTC
No Pressure
the yearling roasted on the spit its drippings crackled the fire huddled in a smoky closed space family with a neighbour, or two bags packed, shoes on, ready to go the meat carefully carved its skeleton intact, unbroken with endives rolled in flatbread unleavened as we had no time meal's remains destroyed in the fire we're ready to leave at any moment from where we're born and always lived to a place known only from ancient tales outside, shrieks and wails, of horror and utter terror inside, goosebumped, hair standing, we waited, in silence
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Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 9:02 AM UTC
outside and inside
Impatience Is a fool If you make it a friend It will make you a fool too
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Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 9:27 AM UTC
Impatience
The call of the void, The ever present touch The ever graceful nudge The sudden realization The hasty correction The resent of thought The promise of never again.
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Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 3:38 PM UTC
L’appel du vide
As I surf on some people's ideaologies, I notice that They spend their time with others Maybe to waste in haste!
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Sep 10, 2020
Sep 10, 2020 at 4:28 PM UTC
Hurry To Waste!
__Three Scottish hags brew up a political storm in a...cauldron.__
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Aug 29, 2020
Aug 29, 2020 at 6:15 PM UTC
Macbeth In Haste
Slips of time, Stolen by, The frustrating cry of empty space. Just 3 words, just 3 breaks, The clock ticks by, I see your face. Skin for every pocketed minute, A strand of hair for each delayed train, A minute here, A minute there, An hour lost in anywhere. Slips of time, Stolen by, A friend from a better place. You're with me always in places I refuse to see, Teaching me to tune a better melody.
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Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 8:34 PM UTC
Heart of Haste
Mastering the art Speaking without thinking through Skilled in hurrying
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Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC
Skilled (Haiku)
A Poem about “The Justice in Self Love” By Marley Fritel Someone around you finds justice in haste. Emotions of yours justify where they're placed. Leave it to justice to fiddle with games. Forcing one's will to conform to its fate. Lead on mournful son, bring justice on home. Obstacles gleam like most polished of chrome. View, and greet others as friend before foe. Even justice hesitates when it need be bestowed.
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Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 11:23 AM UTC
Justice
Silky cocoon of routine leaves this metamorphosis stagnating how the discomfort thieves the fear of change isolating The struggle lies in the escape with no energy left to attempt monotonous days left to drape as if life holds me in contempt Hanging on this lonely branch sometimes I pray just to fall monotonous routine's avalanche  creates days so banal And then a child finds the lonely silk plucks carefully into a glass jar Oh how the curiosity of their ilk creates this warm inner spar A want to escape a need to taste  freedom's luscious grapes make haste happiness,  make haste.
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
Make Haste
your hand on my waist i found my place looking at your nervous face don't want you to give me space don't let our love go to waste i want you to proceed with haste darling, you have me and my lace stop letting your thoughts doubt love's taste spread out under you like a sweet candy paste wonder who will win the race i've fallen into your embrace i won't become Love's Disgrace so finish me slowly, but with utmost haste.
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Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
calm
i never told you how beautiful you were, i made you feel special at some point. but i was not surprised that you did not respond the next day. i promised you many things,and now its like i'm writing a handbook with my right hand; which i don't write with my right hand. i cannot speculate anything when you say something. but how can i be so sure? "always follow your heart, even if it hurts." you said. so i did. and now i'm the happy girl i always wanted to be or am i? you can never tell if the person your looking at is just sad or depressed because of what they've been through but i promise them it'll be okay! and so it was. but she was still dealing with her body issues and shes gone off guard with herself, and doesn't care about the aftereffect about herself. people realize whats worth for them is everything but only you can be the one to change yourself and love yourself. and i see there is no in between due to the fact iv'e done it.
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Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
Untold Love Story (pt:3-3)
die nacht tickt durch die uhr davon zu laut tickt sie und sie verstreicht niemals obwohl sie rennt und rennt aber sie kommt nicht an die nacht ist zu leise, ist zu schnell und die zeit zu dunkel (attempt of a translation) the night ticks away through the clock too loud it ticks and it never passes by although it runs and runs but it never arrives the night is too silent, too fast and time too dark
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Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
Untitled
Waiting on Yahweh is an effective binding of our soul to His; will this Life’s quiz be clarified within… our identity in Christ? We’re human beings, not human doings; begin to live without worry. Haste makes waste; can we expect real change, if always in a hurry?
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Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
Poem: Not In Haste
the hands of time do tick on by in the process years passage quickly by our clock's cogs speedy of haste there's not a spare minute to waste a youthful soul   racing along then into old age comes a final gong the hands of time do tick on by in the process years passage quickly by life's every moment strikes a chime until they reach a conclusive prime days on the rapid   circuit decrease   as momentum's lap will so cease the hands of time do tick on by in the process years passage quickly by
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Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 5:46 AM UTC
Passage Quickly By