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#heated
I’ve heard the planet will overheat and roasty-toasty carbonate us - but what is that to me? Let’s mock the low expectations of the world, abiding as we can, taking what comforts we can now, in this ***** winter - what purpose would cowering serve? There’ll be spring renewals, I’m willing to bet ice in our martinis and yet other playful summers. It’s true. that someday, our busy keyboards will be dust and all of our affections will lie in tombs but worst case scenario by natural and supernatural laws - as sure as an infallible God looks earthward - our souls will be lifted on heaven’s wings . . Songs for this: And when I die - Laura Nero Jesus Walks - Kanye West Somebody Bigger Than You and I - Elvis Presley
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Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 10:06 AM UTC
dusty keyboards
The truth's often miss worded Proof's too easily distorted While trust gets quickly depleted Then misery must be begrudgingly greeted Good is historically related To every bit of evil it created As inner battles get heated Dangerous thoughts are left untreated Inner voices can't be silenced, Only ever quieted Insecurities refuse to be defeated After hope has permanently retreated Alone, And on your own Until the cycle is repeated ©2024
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Sep 6, 2024
Sep 6, 2024 at 3:05 PM UTC
~•§•~ Alone ~•§•~
I'm almost most certainly about to break It's only a matter of time but I hate the wait Holding that familiar panic feeling I can't shake Leading to a heated, one sided, debate Pitting good faith against bad take They're getting more alarming at an alarming rate Basically arguing that everything's but what's fake is fake Completely oblivious, a bad trait if you know what's at stake Because BAM, in a flash, I awaken at my own wake "Excuse me, there must be some kind of mistake" But I must admit, the casket occupant is concrete proof I'm far too late ©2024
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Jun 13, 2024
Jun 13, 2024 at 12:07 PM UTC
~•§•~ For *** Sake ~•§•~
awhile, a time ago, wrote: “the oven's writing warmth, still faint discernible, giving off the aroma of heated ink, upon a skin-smooth page..”                          <> my words returned by the commentator-in-chief: “Tells me why the best part of my time with her was spent in the kitchen.”^ lay fallow my emotive, a response due catalogued but unfulfilled till today, oh hell it is a moody way, partly cloudy day, raining in between sunny  brief teasing episodic. perfect. for the mixed mood, a melancholia of innocence with a dash of a salty, self-reflective hazing, choosing careful words when I write without clear direction, you want to rush outside, get set up, and then surrender-retreat inside to the comfort zone, the hearty, all-involving,  kitchen where the ink is always kept on warm on the glass topped oven, and the dripping-coffee-machine never shuts down, at-the-ready stale crackers in the cupboard, and all these writing utensils at the two-handy, when she comes in, and with a quick surveying, kicks me out, to make us accoladed good food, with these words: “*my darling only love poetry man, render unto me, this captaincy, my fiefdom now, and herein are kept my ingredients and tools, whe my words are secreted.”  You mistake the warmth here as a necessary condition for thy composition, but not so, the warmth required travels in the hearth of the body, get thee to the nook, to the sunroom, or our bed where I catch you prepositioning conjunctions to join weeping verbs, adjective so riotous their beauteous is stolen by God i’m the fall, thoughts worthy of becoming verses and stanzas, the exclaim the wonders of thy perspective, thy goodly nature, thy odor of freshly stirred vocabulary, an alluring stew in a new *** surrender this cooking place to me in order that you might chef a new creation, half mine, half yours, all ours.*”
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Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 10:24 AM UTC
The best part of us was...in the Kitchen
awhile, a time ago, wrote: “the oven's writing warmth, still faint discernible, giving off the aroma of heated ink, upon a skin-smooth page..”                          <> my words returned by the commentator-in-chief: “Tells me why the best part of my time with her was spent in the kitchen.”^ lay fallow my emotive, a response due catalogued but unfulfilled till today, oh hell it is a moody way, partly cloudy day, raining in between sunny  brief teasing episodic. perfect. for the mixed mood, a melancholia of innocence with a dash of a salty, self-reflective hazing, choosing careful words when I write without clear direction, you want to rush outside, get set up, and then surrender-retreat inside to the comfort zone, the hearty, all-involving,  kitchen where the ink is always kept on warm on the glass topped oven, and the dripping-coffee-machine never shuts down, at-the-ready stale crackers in the cupboard, and all these writing utensils at the two-handy, when she comes in, and with a quick surveying, kicks me out, to make us accoladed good food, with these words: “*my darling only love poetry man, render unto me, this captaincy, my fiefdom now, and herein are kept my ingredients and tools, whe my words are secreted.”  You mistake the warmth here as a necessary condition for thy composition, but not so, the warmth required travels in the hearth of the body, get thee to the nook, to the sunroom, or our bed where I catch you prepositioning conjunctions to join weeping verbs, adjective so riotous their beauteous is stolen by God i’m the fall, thoughts worthy of becoming verses and stanzas, the exclaim the wonders of thy perspective, thy goodly nature, thy odor of freshly stirred vocabulary, an alluring stew in a new *** surrender this cooking place to me in order that you might chef a new creation, half mine, half yours, all ours.*”
Continue reading...
16
Lets microwave our kernel                            of thought. Seeing what  becomes of it,        when the moments have counted down. And the ping of freshly popped                  ideas become a tasty metaphor.
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Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 9:18 AM UTC
Microwave Our Thoughts
My attention is hammered into being, as the anvil of my motions are moulded into formation. Heated in the furnace of my subconscious. What once was just white heated noise now moulds with each hit of reasoning.. Our thoughts are always being sculpted in the milliseconds of there creation. Some aren't as we wished, misshapen syllables are reheated to verses later hammered into cognitive thoughts. *"Our perceiving is moulded with wielded blows that form our every sentence,*
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Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
The Anvil Of Our Reflections
It's been a while, but you're recognized from when we went to school. You and I have hooked up before, nothing of ****** relations. But when you popped up on my screen, I'll admit there was hesitation. You push and push then suddenly pull, don't know if it's a game. but against my better judgement, I swiped right anyway. there you instantly shot a message, and picked up where we left off. Before i know it I'm in a car, the windows are all fogged up. Hands to my ******* I'm in your lap, your lips leeched to my neck. mind screams "No, what are you doing?" But my body says "Pleasure me." If that night wasn't enough, we met the very next day. Went back to his and like before He had his way with me. Guilty conscience plays repeat, to this day I probably shouldn't have done it. He pushed for plans where I didn't have time, It was either work or moving. Eventually told me he was done playing around, but i thought *** was all he wanted. Told him I was moving 6 hours away That I couldn't hold that type of connection. I haven't heard from him nor have I seen him since But now that I'm 6 hours away I've lost all form's of connection In a new town, filled with new people It was crazy, but I felt lonely.
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Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC
The Tinder Series - #2
I'm holding onto you and shutting my eyes, as the song keeps playing, my heart continues to melt. The sounds from the squirrels jumping on leaves are all drowned out... I feel your hands moving, I smile and breathe you in, our faces come close again, your nose touches mine and I know I don't want this time together to end. It was cold outside but you left me feeling heated.
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Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
It was Cold
But you said, she whispered, her voice laced with poison and smoke. You said dragons don't exist. I never said they didn't exist, I breathed, the snow melting beneath our twitching fingers. I said I'd never seen one. Until now.
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
forked tongues
It's known that everything expands when it is heated, so our discontent grows when we're not fairly treated. -------------------------------------
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Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
Simple Observation #237 - It's known that everything ....
all i wanted was a simple apology if you loved me it wouldn't be that hard but i guess you didn't they told me not to fall to hard but i never listen for i thought was different. but you were exactly what they said and to my existence your malignant but yet somehow you still are a stimulant you set gasoline to my fire and it heats up resembling our heated arguments that end up with one of us in pain for you were never the solution you were never my rain to exhaust my flames your a poison and it's addictive yet my soul still survives it hurts so much but my heart yearns for you it chimes chimes in a irregular beat; wishing for you to care but its like i'm never there i always end up suffering the ramifications your my main cause of my dreary tribulations yet, i stay yet, i still care yet, i'm still blamed yet, i cant stop loving you Where did i ever go so wrong?
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Where Did I Go Wrong?
Bursting pinkish white blossoms fall in spring patterns The air is filled with connecting one being to another Each being is enthrolled with the heated day Birds chirp on nature's timetable in genetic rhythm The new warmth envelops your body like a true lover Your body relaxes in each step that is taken Spring skies vanquish the dismal grays revealing a sunny and blue canopy with white billowing clouds Still and at ease are your and my thoughts as remorseful thinking is now of cheer And the relaxed happy chattering of outside people break the harsh-winter silence
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Cherry Blossoms And Sunshine
you made me guilty for the things  I don't know you made me liable for such things in my absence you even may not care what might happen to me in you i'm a torn in which you really heated most yet , you never understand despite of this, I care for ~you... even though it is so very hard and expect nothing in return i ask myself  quite sometimes what would i get of heating you when I burn and sick just because of you you would even not buy me medicine when I become burn and behalf~dead you might not present in my burial and when I lost myself  just because of you you might not even care for me more so, I ask myself for many times and days.... and wholeheartedly  learned it so..... of heating  someone like you that heated me so what would this all about  in my present be of  doing the same things like you do what would be the good I could get too ~now that I know the truth peace be with you   and sorry if you won't stop thinking  of me and sorry if i'm not what you expected me ~ to be me just for your sake.
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Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
YOU
You are shocks down my spine Electricity Fear Wonderful You are warm hands and heated breath Flashing eyes and quiet smiles You are soft touches and pressure Long nights and quick pulses How these butterflies flutter about, as if to wish release from goodness. Always screaming doubts and madness Madness Madness Madness This is madness Breathe Breathe Breathe Madness
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Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Madness
I'm in that mood When I want a collar round my neck Though I'll still be in control Two bodies writhing, one bed. I'm in that mood When I shiver at my thoughts And I prowl ever-restless The house is freezing, I'm blazing hot. I'm in that mood When I'd beg for anything And time is too slow My eyes are open, I'm blind with need. I'm in that mood When shame is a foreign entity And humiliation is impossible Or perhaps exhilarating. I'm in that mood When I can't contain the desperation And I'm far past coherent or sane So very rushed yet patient. I'm in that mood Where I'd curse anyone who set me free And my mind is an unending chant, 'Collar me, collar me.'
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Collar Me