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#named
from my fingertips emanating, wafting, waving, farewell, overseas bound, many lines of demarcation to cross, I am now acquiring, acquainted, e~spiced, by your geo~locality, feeling the acquired cumin, coriander, turmeric, mustard seeds, and cardamon, ah, cardamon! upon us thus my arrival, disguised, and you sweet~puzzler inquire of the clouds, what is this vaguely, and yet, too familiar, crisscrossed scent, tantalizing but a strangely~familiar unknown? and you reply to yourself, thinking twice, examining your heart, unleashing with eyes closed the lashing aroma scented vision of notes, that penetrate the skin pores and you say: ah ha! that name, that. name. I am that spice, knowing that name, I am so named….
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Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 12:10 PM UTC
that spice, in your air and hair, is my name
(A person known by one name) There's a place for gifting a name One to be known and addressed by One to answer by One that speaks of family One to be adopted and sometimes adapted But one to affirm from birth. There's a place for picking up a name One given casually, possibly accidentally One like Ace and Rock, Smarts and Giggles One that captures a grain of the truth of you. There's no place for names given in distain, names of derision, laced with hatred, names to reject, even if stated in jest. There's no need to repeat these here. Ultimately, there's a perfect place for a secret name, known only to you and your beloved, given in a moment of tenderness, given in a language of love, given to say you belong. A name to be whispered in the quiet of eternity. One name worth waiting for.
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Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
Mononymous
What is a daemon? In computing, a daemon (pronounced DEE-muhn) is a program that runs continuously as a background process and wakes up to handle periodic service requests, which often come from remote processes. ------------------------ Did no one ever tell you, child, never swear for no excuse, plead guilty, confess you was beguiled, indeed. By some when back then you had kin, what made time to preform the secret baby making. Once upon a time, we were always orphans, from first whipper snappers used to scrape tar from industrial chimneys. Songs of Innocense in a new age, learning old religions decay to mythos, whence new religions tie memorium, whence each season we return to recall our broken spirits, how so and so sang, lala live for today, la la live for today, some same stories we recall, links, URLs, to old sessions recording history, close your eyes and drift away, listening, much as winds seem to do, returning on their circuits from collection to collection, paid attention tokens, believed to soften the hull on the gospel seed sown to a cultivated faith, planted to propagate, the idea of a secret code Truth uses in spirit form, the Truth of truths, which, if known, even once, makes the captive free, mentally, happy as one can imagine, under unchanging immutable terminii enforcing order. Order, called for, order in the court of geeky oddball poetic discerners of like or love or not, Thought traditions trades across epochs forming news, too much to think about while considering sidereal extents. Desiderata, poetic license, madejathank, Christian Nation, Conquistadores were still heroes in 1954, when the generation first born in the United Nations victory forever standardization of historical information, - Boomers stepping aside, survivors come to remember - first were we to be graded by machines for marks - made in Number two pencils rounded to one swipe - width, right answers, only, only, one swipe between - the lines, esoteric practice for precision aim. to be overseen by servants of the victorious economy, as pieces resorting to old formerly used rules of conduct, smell the wind the strange idea carries, worth weight, pushing power, pumping umph, known cost of use, userer's fee, faith, the story held true, with the evidence in the box, the bag, the sacred bundle, all but forgotten, faith becomes the evidence of things unseen, children are told to hold these truths, those being taught you, as you line up in patterns of proven paid attention, facing the flag child, you should remember, wordless, for lack of a phraze, thinking What? What am I pledging, what is pledging, I swear I mean, I swanee, by golly, gosh **** shucks, I ghucking did not know.
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Feb 12, 2024
Feb 12, 2024 at 5:22 PM UTC
Old peacemaker's last excuse...
What is a daemon? In computing, a daemon (pronounced DEE-muhn) is a program that runs continuously as a background process and wakes up to handle periodic service requests, which often come from remote processes. ------------------------ Did no one ever tell you, child, never swear for no excuse, plead guilty, confess you was beguiled, indeed. By some when back then you had kin, what made time to preform the secret baby making. Once upon a time, we were always orphans, from first whipper snappers used to scrape tar from industrial chimneys. Songs of Innocense in a new age, learning old religions decay to mythos, whence new religions tie memorium, whence each season we return to recall our broken spirits, how so and so sang, lala live for today, la la live for today, some same stories we recall, links, URLs, to old sessions recording history, close your eyes and drift away, listening, much as winds seem to do, returning on their circuits from collection to collection, paid attention tokens, believed to soften the hull on the gospel seed sown to a cultivated faith, planted to propagate, the idea of a secret code Truth uses in spirit form, the Truth of truths, which, if known, even once, makes the captive free, mentally, happy as one can imagine, under unchanging immutable terminii enforcing order. Order, called for, order in the court of geeky oddball poetic discerners of like or love or not, Thought traditions trades across epochs forming news, too much to think about while considering sidereal extents. Desiderata, poetic license, madejathank, Christian Nation, Conquistadores were still heroes in 1954, when the generation first born in the United Nations victory forever standardization of historical information, - Boomers stepping aside, survivors come to remember - first were we to be graded by machines for marks - made in Number two pencils rounded to one swipe - width, right answers, only, only, one swipe between - the lines, esoteric practice for precision aim. to be overseen by servants of the victorious economy, as pieces resorting to old formerly used rules of conduct, smell the wind the strange idea carries, worth weight, pushing power, pumping umph, known cost of use, userer's fee, faith, the story held true, with the evidence in the box, the bag, the sacred bundle, all but forgotten, faith becomes the evidence of things unseen, children are told to hold these truths, those being taught you, as you line up in patterns of proven paid attention, facing the flag child, you should remember, wordless, for lack of a phraze, thinking What? What am I pledging, what is pledging, I swear I mean, I swanee, by golly, gosh **** shucks, I ghucking did not know.
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My cute young daughter named Shatakshi Asks, "Daddy-daddy what's this thingy?" I, the caring father, with a gasp Reply, "It is a fire ant that you grasp And you hold where it has its stingy!"
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Dec 5, 2023
Dec 5, 2023 at 11:45 AM UTC
A sure day in future
Stuck in a jail cell "Up and Adam" You have to obey their rules Or no basic freedoms. No garden of Eden. No equality. No excuses. They own your space You wonder why that matters They suppress your dreams and passions Yet flaunt the same to aid in their suppression. Try the limited ways in which you can create or share your visions Not one person seems to see or enjoy artistic creations that you have worked with with limited resources to employ. They wouldn't do this to Picasso To: Aristotle However, this is the future. There you are Beating all the odds Your position stays the same Communications in question "Why must I always have a forgotten and unknown name?"
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Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 4:09 PM UTC
Unknown Artists
Cannot escape from this prison named Time Determined outcomes mock me from other side of the bars I cannot live chained to my unmatched expectations
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Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 6:11 AM UTC
A Prison Called Time
It's drive and focus Edge and flexibility finesse It's youth which fades Bulls On Parade And my curse midst blessing One of many things BEST my meaning, interesting As for one more year This old mortal Is king Forward any doubters Doubts trying to bring
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Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 11:05 AM UTC
The Three Year King
Bell Always by side You’ve guarded my heart For so long I remember going busking With you Outside the supermarket And I dropped you at my feet And the homeless guy Smiling at me And when I went to that place The made bed And Red light The smiling girls And I sang Valerie And walked out Passed the guard Following me out Cigarette in the street We were all unmade And I still am You’ve guarded my heart I believe You said I’m worth a chance The gates open and close behind me Now I’m moving It’s time to use my feet Each other we’ll still see I’m going out into the world Make believe
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Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC
Bell
Gentle dawn Tilts her head to a simple side Just like a lover Her embrace and longing kiss Opening wider than a day is long And a night is alive With ease and gentleness alike Her hand comes to rest On my resting knee As I gently reach for a single moment Turned memory Which can be savored for eternity
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Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
A Girl Named Sunrise
She said and shouted She ordered to dismiss He tried to express She shocked her head Her smart was greater But her anger increases He had to go When she could know She ran after him to do To maintain and fix Her fault, but it becomes late Why we lose our gift Under honor ,is named
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Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 7:02 AM UTC
Reflecting hers
It's a cocktail in which memory mixes with sensation and sound. To become even moreso drunk on you. In the remind of those moments once shared, in that certain, southern, American town.
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Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
A Southern Style Cocktail
Tomorrow is coming, like a train of iron on a track of steel and nothing can stop it. Nothing that is or ever will be derailed. Tomorrow is coming between friction and steel.
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Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
A Train Named Tomorrow
why hurricanes are named after people, not things. - v.m
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
you make me understand
Your time My time Never Ours But I have to believe above all else In God and his timing Which does not faulter Which knows no human bounds In this I trust And nothing else
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May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 7:55 PM UTC
Timing
The most gorgeous girl in the world, I remember Pragya by her anonym, Now all I have are her memories, Yes they are sweet and delicious. Real life angel she was my friend, Each day in her company was good, Memories of us smiling together, Early riser she so inspired me, Maybe she does not have time, Busy she is too much for memories, Regal used to be her elegant smiles, Again I hope that I come across her, No one is immortal but memories are, Centuries ago maybe I had known her, Every memory I can recollect sharply.
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Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
Zephyr Sagittarius
I had only started recovery After that inglorious accident That I was faced with a seeming Herculean task at hand as student When I was to tackle ten exams An attempt with forgetfulness I broke no sweat in doing it
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC
When They Thought It's Impossible
My cute young daughter named Shatakshi Asks, "Daddy-daddy what's this thing?" Me, the caring daddy, with a gasp, Replied, "It is a fire ant that you grasp And you hold the end where lies its sting!"
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Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
A sure day in future
I saw you that day was rainy, I wouldn't meet you after this maybe, Please don't escape from rain, because it was me, Dark, misty and lonely I need somebody to hold me. I don't believe in you and your beauty, You're a trick always behind me, I exist, you exist in same county, But couldn't say exist "we". I am exhausted far away form me, Let me die here softly and silently, Please not afraid, I am always ready, Take the gun and count the three. I am not player named game "life". It is over now, from beginning of 1995. Have no faith, the past I don't remember. I chose my library as a holy temple.
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
Named Game "Life"