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#moi
deserve it more than most, more than anyone, indeed, in deed, your passion drowns me, overwhelms and even makes me admit out loudly over comes your faceted identities, delight, charm, provoke, and evoke multitudes of moods, desires, even writings... but you are too stern, this thing called love, is tissue soft, so hard to form, so easily torn, it requires time & hard work, many words, though oft the fewest are supreme, and I laugh at myself, for the only word I think that rhymes with supreme is dream which is just another synonym for endless opportunities*** and I, we, read each others poems to each other quietly, for that is the only, & the best way.
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Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 5:33 AM UTC
you did not ask for this, even though you
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2) who needs challenges, commissions. kicks~in~le butte~ when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its first communion(cation, come back months later to subtract - another poem from where it lay dormant on the doormat of my sub~sub~terranes of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain a favored poet, a secretive admirer, whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover, but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly, ana~lyrically licks me into dredging from me un begrudgingly and yet, another love poem, she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3)) 'pon one of mine, a long long time ago Alas!  Alack! unnaturally immodest, one concedes, when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes, seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot nor uncover so I requite & requote with unlabored pleasure miz patty m's primary terse verse, neither secondary & never tertiary, her absolut perfect mixed drink defining, summarizing, the essences of love *"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"* I concede, in deed, and in writing, I know nothing, of writing of only love poetry and all the great predecessors, elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated, by yet another women, (1) I will take my weary words elsewhere, and if perhaps, disguised as a woman, (Natalie, Natasha, Natali see note below) perhaps my verbal herbal insides, my turgid insights, will be shorter, sweeter, but never more completer than those of, who can syncopate it in rhyme and the naming of my predilection, by mid~initial, will give a measuring of solace, and a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie, having been unsuccessful at my one chosen endeavor, only love poetry, adieu, I, due, utter Nevermore                     M>
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Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:38 PM UTC
"A love poem is a kiss, whispered sweetly"
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2) who needs challenges, commissions. kicks~in~le butte~ when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its first communion(cation, come back months later to subtract - another poem from where it lay dormant on the doormat of my sub~sub~terranes of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain a favored poet, a secretive admirer, whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover, but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly, ana~lyrically licks me into dredging from me un begrudgingly and yet, another love poem, she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3)) 'pon one of mine, a long long time ago Alas!  Alack! unnaturally immodest, one concedes, when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes, seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot nor uncover so I requite & requote with unlabored pleasure miz patty m's primary terse verse, neither secondary & never tertiary, her absolut perfect mixed drink defining, summarizing, the essences of love *"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"* I concede, in deed, and in writing, I know nothing, of writing of only love poetry and all the great predecessors, elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated, by yet another women, (1) I will take my weary words elsewhere, and if perhaps, disguised as a woman, (Natalie, Natasha, Natali see note below) perhaps my verbal herbal insides, my turgid insights, will be shorter, sweeter, but never more completer than those of, who can syncopate it in rhyme and the naming of my predilection, by mid~initial, will give a measuring of solace, and a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie, having been unsuccessful at my one chosen endeavor, only love poetry, adieu, I, due, utter Nevermore                     M>
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79
Compromise feels only like my complete demise; I am solely right.
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Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 9:21 PM UTC
Compromise
I think myself tall compared to all below me. I've never looked up.
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Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 3:26 PM UTC
Me
You’ve mastered the act You’ve turned off emotions Now everything’s black I am truly sorry I slowly grow colder It’s always my fault She breaks when I hold her He’s bitter and angry There’s pain in his eyes He bleeds from his struggle His will slowly dies There’s things I’ve done The things I regret The problems I caused I won’t easily forget But i’M nowhere near perfect And neither are you Let’s all hurt each other I’ve lost you two -M.O.I
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Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
I Blame Myself
my mind is a chaotic maze guarded by confusion. Lost in the labyrinth. it’s too dark i can’t see. i’m trapped in this sick sick place. Sanity is slipping. Thoughts that haunt me slide into my unconscious mind. i havnt slept in days Please someone, anyone pull me from the edge. i stare into the abyss ready to jump. i’m being chased by the demons in my mind. They torture, torment and tease by dangling my sanity by a Thin Thin thread. my mind is recklessly running ‘round rampant. and swiftly shifting sideways then twisting, turning and tilting like a convulsing snake The voices in my head scream So loud They block my calls for help. Will i ever escape?                                                       i’m so lost no one is looking because i’m right in front of you but I am still Lost -m.o.i
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Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
Lost
With a stuttering shacking hand that is also my voice I write in absolute silence, my voice is Hidden. We think of thoughts so deep We never stop sinking... A pen becomes a paddle , and a book a boat. And I write myself away Over a an ocean of thought So I don’t drown... -M.O.I
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
Thought
A black mind is an infectious shadow. It creeps and crawls to cover the light. You suffocate because nothing grows in the dark. Your broken black heart spreads Like the disease it is. Your presence is cold and your heart is full of rot. No light illuminates your endless dark pit That consumes everything Eternally empty You fall in but limp and crawl out THESE people are just a void THEY take and use So do go, go into the light Where you can see what they are -M.O.I
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Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
The dark
Inconsistent shifting sand burns beneath my feet. I don’t know where I stand surrounded by miles of desert. Only walking on the surface where everything is the same. Only the oasis lets me sink. but we are a scorching sun That evaporates Making us too scared to sink Too scared to       think. We harden and bake the topsoil. No wonder we can’t dig deeper to the water beneath we are all dying of thirst. -M.O.I
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Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 1:22 AM UTC
i’M without depth
The planets re-aligned today and I thought it was, just me being special, in my way a quiet wishful, plea The sun came up this morn and I, narcissistically believed I was re-born after all, everything, is me The girls, and boys, fawning it's just this effect I do new day, and new way dawning myself, always, coming through I'm your gift this season I'm cause, for all your joy I'm just saying, I'm the reason Cuz I'm, the real, McCoy
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Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
It's all, about me