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#itself
these the words of V.B. ~~~ I have no access to the billionaires’ research to make the body live ever longer. but I do have what the artist Agam*, isolated as my heritage’s, pill of vibrancy, an in~nate, planted deep, self funding! decked with my core genetics, my DNA, my imprinted history, tales of horror and rescue dating from the middle ages; this ****** my carat creativity, knowing very few appreciate my eclectic, acquired taste, that simply is to everyone’s tastes, senses, & sensibility, to the right of a little crazy! this I understand and debate it not; but Agam, reminds of the foundational who and why my soul, is only satisfied, when I can create new word combinations it is as if god’s: comma, dementia of moral commandment to pray three times daily, is met, satisfied not in the way prescribed, but instead, pro~scribed in my thrice daily poems aborning, each a confirming rebirthing inimitable! even if my voice, lost among in a million voices, he reminds me, that I am of, when he recites: “When I look around at my works, what I see is beyond the pieces themselves,” said Agam. “I turn my head and see something different. Everything changes here. That’s the reality. Reality in other art is set and narrow, and here it isn’t — it’s open, and it changes and brings you closer to seeing the reality of Hebrew and Judaism.” “Agam wasn’t much of a student and would run away from school to the beach of Rishon Lezion’s dunes, back when the shifting hillocks of sand were a visible part of the landscape. It was there that Agam noticed how the wind changed the dunes’ shapes, making them look different at all times. That wind was the source of his inspiration, and he ascribed it to the Torah, saying God created the dunes and humans, who can also create.” “The reality is what shifts, and that’s to open your thoughts and creativity and understanding and expression of the reality in another way,” so got to go forth and do the summary commandment, create!
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Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 11:53 AM UTC
The Summary Commandment: A busy mind, always shifting, trying to outrun time itself
these the words of V.B. ~~~ I have no access to the billionaires’ research to make the body live ever longer. but I do have what the artist Agam*, isolated as my heritage’s, pill of vibrancy, an in~nate, planted deep, self funding! decked with my core genetics, my DNA, my imprinted history, tales of horror and rescue dating from the middle ages; this ****** my carat creativity, knowing very few appreciate my eclectic, acquired taste, that simply is to everyone’s tastes, senses, & sensibility, to the right of a little crazy! this I understand and debate it not; but Agam, reminds of the foundational who and why my soul, is only satisfied, when I can create new word combinations it is as if god’s: comma, dementia of moral commandment to pray three times daily, is met, satisfied not in the way prescribed, but instead, pro~scribed in my thrice daily poems aborning, each a confirming rebirthing inimitable! even if my voice, lost among in a million voices, he reminds me, that I am of, when he recites: “When I look around at my works, what I see is beyond the pieces themselves,” said Agam. “I turn my head and see something different. Everything changes here. That’s the reality. Reality in other art is set and narrow, and here it isn’t — it’s open, and it changes and brings you closer to seeing the reality of Hebrew and Judaism.” “Agam wasn’t much of a student and would run away from school to the beach of Rishon Lezion’s dunes, back when the shifting hillocks of sand were a visible part of the landscape. It was there that Agam noticed how the wind changed the dunes’ shapes, making them look different at all times. That wind was the source of his inspiration, and he ascribed it to the Torah, saying God created the dunes and humans, who can also create.” “The reality is what shifts, and that’s to open your thoughts and creativity and understanding and expression of the reality in another way,” so got to go forth and do the summary commandment, create!
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the Sun has broken through (she cannot be denied for very long) burning off the sea haar (she was doing this eons before we were aware) long before bi-pedal consciousness even had a clue.
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Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 7:40 AM UTC
burning off the sea haar
A painting, like a library inside the man who is no more. Like the mystery of the skilled painter’s brushstrokes. Emotions put together like a string of different beads making a beautiful necklace. Too heavy the weight to carry. Every color shedded tears that gives a man his posture. Walking or standing still. Look and hear the joy of laughter, the cry in pain. See the happiness in flowers faces. In a true lovers game. Like the last breath of broken men feel the final brushstroke of the fading waves of endless sea. There are as many worlds as there are people. When one man dies we lose a library of untold stories. To know a man look at the finished painting Feel a life, lived. Shell✨🐚
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Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 6:14 AM UTC
A life.
my mind has collapsed upon itself here is now
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Sep 15, 2024
Sep 15, 2024 at 7:37 PM UTC
personal 24/9/13c
The arrow endures The bow string's tension So that in the release It can become More than itself
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Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 4:04 PM UTC
The Arrow
Talking about our feelings Can benefit our mental health And, with that in mind, I'd like to say; Anxiety can **** itself. It sneaks up like a ninja; It knows the art of stealth, But I have to teach it new things; Like how to go and **** itself. It bothers me with social stuff, It screams about my wealth, Until I can simply take no more, And scream right back; "Go **** yourself!" It's a nasty little demon! It's a horrid little elf! It's the thing I hate the most, And it needs to go and **** itself. Yes- talking about our feelings Can benefit our mental health, And, with that in mind, I'd like to say; "Anxiety can **** itself!"
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Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 4:47 PM UTC
A Poem About Anxiety (Go **** Yourself)
I was killing myself from the inside Once it overflowed to the surface It bled through my wrists I had told my body to hate itself So it tried to drain itself
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Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC
Draining
We'll be ok There's smoke The skin burns We'll be ok There's a voice raving The words burn We'll be ok Boots are marching The elderly roll six feet under We'll be ok They wonder: why did you forget? We didn't forget war we wanted it We'll be ok He raves War war war war war war We'll be ok The boots march in tandem And disappear We'll be ok The elderly roll six feet under They wonder: Didn't we fight for your peace? We'll be ok We didn't forget war, we wanted it
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Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
Didn't we Fight For your Peace
Life is tough, but even In the darkest of times you can Find some good. Everyday you'll find some good left. In the darkest hour, in The middle of the night-- Sleepless and thinking-- Each day is a new chance to Live and Find the good in the world.
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Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
Life Itself
Tricks and higher education, Training and development, I let artificial intelligence, The Android A.I. system, Suggest me words and phrases, In an experiment where I am, Letting the poem write itself.
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Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
Letting The Poem Write Itself
If soldiers ride under the flag of someone else's dawn what choice do we have but to march right on? So he says, "Just like god I never meant to be, and just like time you'll never know the end of me" "Your answers lay in the middle of an enclosed glen I wonder if you dared to step right in" He says, "Just like god I never meant to be, and just like time you'll never know the end of me"
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Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
War Stories
A poor heart is one which finds No companion Along the way of life. A poor person is one which cuts Another onion Seeking just to weep. A poor soul is one which haunts No one else But only & only itself.
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Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
A Poor Soul
Sometimes fear stems from not understanding Blame is but a gift in a hateful society Lack of encouragement leads many astray The river streams in one direction But forces some to struggle against the current. How does one break out of line- if it is enforced with barbwire? Embrace the injures life inflicts and rush through stomping on brittle pavement. Ignore the trembles in your chest cavity and brave a smile Negativity surrounds you like an endless sea, but divert your gaze to brighter portions of the sky. Fear is another form of ignorance, only if allowed to cloak judgment.
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Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Fear itself
My head is a warzone in itself. Sometimes there's no victors. Sometimes there is. I hate to convince myself that i must confide A amoeba that's restricting me so i can abide There's no true purpose in where i hide And taking unnecessary sides I just want something tasty on my side Nothing too dazzling But that's exactly how i describe myself And i want to run it away Not so it can come back another day I tend to be vociferous And it irritates me Why can i have a mind that entices the thought and not berate it? I feel disjointed, jaded Far from elated Somehow my reinforcements become instant vaporization Nothing adds up to a stimulation What was i put here for? To quarrel, to entrench myself with misery? I need something to distract Keep me in humble tact Busy As a bee But i don't want to sting Or the frivolous bling Why can't i figure it out? Nobody can for me As easy as that pleases the ear I must adhere To my own belligerent madness And find some sanity in it It's a unembellishing feeling.
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Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 4:27 AM UTC
In Itself
He stabbed me in the back And **** ***** me. A lover? No. Love itself. -- Eleanor
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
**** ****