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#novelty
Open a bigger locket In devout letters To unhinge hours morality Fending the pessimist off Grasping empty, In laying foundations To refine and revere the life's span
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Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 12:51 PM UTC
Skeptically Open Lovers
You spend more time cradling your shell, lately Coveting not the flesh of just any man But the warmth of his skin - only Tempering your own - rosy Dulling the mind - ***** And curing the heart’s lonely: ~Ahh… Hare! Suppose this must be what it means to burn — Slowly.~
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Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 5:56 AM UTC
O, Doting Tortoise
it's been used quite meaninglessly twice     maybe        three times and in between that it is simply a dust trap in hindsight it was a waste i must have known that it would barely      if ever get used lured beyond sense      and reason; the novelty behind the idea silenced any concept of logic      or prudence being able to say i own the same typewriter as such a great mind must mean something even so          if not it shall remain on display esoteric ironic impotent amidst the pages of my bookshelf
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Mar 30, 2022
Mar 30, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
a waste of ink
i lick the sweet syrup from my fingers so i can eat the same sticky pancake like it's new i rearrange my room with the same three pieces of furniture i've had since i was eleven and all the clothes i got from thrift stores thinking i could make them mine if i put holes in the knees and elbows so i'm sorry if i keep starting over always trying to love you from the beginning
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Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 5:35 PM UTC
rewriting page one
stars align in a blanket of         future snow dusting time's plateau with         a smear of red paint across the fallen angel's         face shedding tears in the naked light from the         hollow of a mirrored heart playing shadows         like a work of art it's an expansive drama of forgotten          leagues keeping memories in silence between the ravines          of what has and what has yet. digital ridges serrate the          landscape of quiet burdens borne by the beings of beastly          countenance counting seven in perpetuity in honor         of the bell that tolled so long ago now. there is a low roar bellowing from the          womb of novelty coming to upset the balance bristling with          charged particles of transmutation and flashing in a dance of          lightning from the void. born from eternity to create in          time those wildest dreams from the darkness of God's mind.
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Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 7:03 AM UTC
darkness in mind
There is a wonder and beauty in uncertainty, that sparkling unknown that unfold before us making each moment precious for its rarity and inability to repeat. So, I hope it brings you joy and peace.
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Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
Untitled
Novelty means new A Poetic Novelty? Explain this to me!
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Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC
Haiku's Novelty
Last night while teaching my niece I told her "She is not paying Attention", she said "she is", and that she just paid it fifteen Naira. By jove! the serious look on her cute face while saying this had me laughing. children given birth to these days are as smart as a beautiful smartphone and she only 3, last December
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Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 11:02 PM UTC
My niece (paying Attention )
don't you dare smile in the face of the day. don't think for a second that you are in control of your feelings. see that person ahead? don't acknowledge them. head down, eyes forward, mouth shut, heart closed. ...good, now you're getting the hang of it. now, accept everyone else's authority but your own, amass financial debt, relieve yourself with the proper drugs, find someone under the same enchantment as you and call it love. have kids because it's the next step. raise them in your image. then, watch them repeat the same cycles and as you're dying, have a flash-thought- "did I even notice who I was? what I wanted for this life?" and as the thresh ceases to be held you light a candle of hope- your love the spark, your children the fed flame. you say, "they will sever the momentum I couldn't, they will see it." -after all they are made to be better than you, not simply blind copies. yet as the kaleidoscopic walls usher you on you wonder, "how many of my ancestors have lit this same vela del lecho de muerte? how many were hoping it was their daughter or son?" the security of tradition and the risk-reward of novelty played out across lineages. both correct and incorrect in their own ways... which one reaches through the ages and hums in your spine?
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Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 8:37 PM UTC
vela del lecho de muerte
Weary eyed shop workers curse the sight of dawn, A drunken Hen stumbles and her tutu gets torn, The smell of burning chip fat invades my nose, ‘Chips for breakfast?!’ I cry, chewing marshmallows, I venture towards the tower feeling free as a bird, When SPLAT on my shoe lands a seagull **** Rough with the smooth - that’s what this town’s all about, I think as a man pulls his Jokebooks out, ‘It’s for charity!’ he lies. ‘I live here mate..’ ‘Oh right, soz love, fancy a date?’’ I ignore the geezer and gaze out to the sea, Wondering where the Lochness Monster might be.. Soaking up the sights as 2 drunks start to fight, ‘OI’ I shout, as a kid sets a bin alight. Skaters jump like kangaroos on the bandstand, As health freaks tut, running rapid on the sand. Children charge like apes in supersensory mazes, While parents eye arcades with terror on their faces, Suddenly crisp packets dance in the air, As the wind picks up and whips at my hair. ‘It’s hometime for me!’ A hailstone hits my eyeball, And the blue sky runs behind some grey clouds of storm, There’s not many places with 4 seasons in a day! So don’t let the weather throw you into disarray. ‘Blackpool’ I say, ‘a town of stark contrast…’ As a horse driven carriage then a rat stroll past. A town to make memories no matter how worn, That time never erases as new ones get born. Back in Bispham, where the prom’s a bit safer, The oldies don’t buy 3 Hammers, just pies and papers, I step off the number 11 bus and shout ‘Thanks!’ The bus driver grunts, takes his hand out his pants, Then speeds down our beautiful, glistening prom, Full of lights that probably shouldn’t still be on.
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Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Bright Lights Ablaze
Weary eyed shop workers curse the sight of dawn, A drunken Hen stumbles and her tutu gets torn, The smell of burning chip fat invades my nose, ‘Chips for breakfast?!’ I cry, chewing marshmallows, I venture towards the tower feeling free as a bird, When SPLAT on my shoe lands a seagull **** Rough with the smooth - that’s what this town’s all about, I think as a man pulls his Jokebooks out, ‘It’s for charity!’ he lies. ‘I live here mate..’ ‘Oh right, soz love, fancy a date?’’ I ignore the geezer and gaze out to the sea, Wondering where the Lochness Monster might be.. Soaking up the sights as 2 drunks start to fight, ‘OI’ I shout, as a kid sets a bin alight. Skaters jump like kangaroos on the bandstand, As health freaks tut, running rapid on the sand. Children charge like apes in supersensory mazes, While parents eye arcades with terror on their faces, Suddenly crisp packets dance in the air, As the wind picks up and whips at my hair. ‘It’s hometime for me!’ A hailstone hits my eyeball, And the blue sky runs behind some grey clouds of storm, There’s not many places with 4 seasons in a day! So don’t let the weather throw you into disarray. ‘Blackpool’ I say, ‘a town of stark contrast…’ As a horse driven carriage then a rat stroll past. A town to make memories no matter how worn, That time never erases as new ones get born. Back in Bispham, where the prom’s a bit safer, The oldies don’t buy 3 Hammers, just pies and papers, I step off the number 11 bus and shout ‘Thanks!’ The bus driver grunts, takes his hand out his pants, Then speeds down our beautiful, glistening prom, Full of lights that probably shouldn’t still be on.
Continue reading...
34
Pursuing new things. Focusing poorly on life’s routines. Losing the novelty. Struggling to maintain new habits. Missing long conversations. Craving unceasing attention. Struggling now. Disappointing failures. Fearing novelty alone drew me. Longing to know what’s best.
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Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC
Quandry
Novelty delays fine work. A lack of interest in persistence as it were. Oh Novelty you and your cousin Naivety wrap me in delusion and play on my vanity, You tell me Rome was built in a day, that riches come quick to those who simply play. Oh consistency, are we here again? The constant whip to push through the day, I'd rather just theorize and think my way. Yes, a lazy poet I am, I rarely speak of grit. Such a millennial they say, I think therefore I can.
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
Interest
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely, Profligating goons in obsidian gowns gathered under rainbow moonshine shaking bronze hands, howling and ******   in the shambles of the moon,   rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight. The mellow marines mourned over malice, lionizing over lost ones, many howled venerated, exalted in wonder in  favor of their thrilling grace, and delight, and brilliance, and might! but some neighboring sticklers,     behaved haughty and in disdain,   of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes signaling out                  to the seers of the sea, singing to the wands overwatching the wedding, and ravens listened,    roving like noble patrolsmen. Traveleres and trainees at sea    humble and bright niave, and frieghtened in traverse,            volatile and toiling,            tireless, Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,) Rumaging through rain, fireciely, rallying and rableroused, through towering halls of mohogony,      hefty and wholesome were their hearts though, beast of the woodsy edifice were foul and benumb scowling with contempt, haste to devide and devised to hindrance. Hence the heroes heed    to the valleys of rose, and violet, and strawberry fields of forever,  seeking Saint Nicholas, in the bustling Byzantium,       in the murky shadows of doubt.
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
A Dozen Cavaliers At Sea
Growing up, I was never trained to love Wonder Woman, So when everyone threw her praise, I knew I had to connect with her on my own. I was never taught how to love her. In the late hours, I found comfort in an unmade bed, curled under her arm, over the curve in her chest, slowly moving in from her shoulders. She was raised hiding her heartstrings behind her ribs, carrying an iron fist, naturally trained to always protect emotion more than herself. Bending structures and norms in society. We always had the same gaps, yet somehow in other ways we fit perfectly together. Surrounded by others, we lived in a world on our own, arms tangled like earbuds strewn across messy notes of pristine ideas. Instead, we spent nights eating chocolate, playing cards, the background of cliché yet novel sitcoms drawing us closer together. Dissecting our hearts and minds in the early hours of the morning before putting them back together and going back to another day. See, we're never actually taught to love the people we seek to love more. Here, I failed to understand how to connect, how to fuse two hearts together, how to stop something right from going terribly wrong.
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
Wonder Woman
I'mnotreallysurewhatI'mwritingabout. MaybeifIstartto slowdownitwill startto makesome kindof sense. There, that's much clearer!
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
Reallyfartoorapid
What is better than a perfect success story? Simple A story where the hero is knocked down over and over only to find the strength to get up again and keep pushing forward A life with only peaks and no valleys is like a story with no tragedy Like a movie with no suspense Where is the novelty in a predictable flow of butterflies and rainbows? The risk of loss and the conquering of darkness is just as beautiful as the most wonderful pleasures that this world has to offer
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Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
life as a novel
All I’ll have is comfort in regularity They will have adorable laughs Unfamiliar smells Novelty. All I’ll have are years under my belt They will have moments floating in question Battering what-ifs Possibilities. All I’ll have is this skin that grows old They’ll have a irresistible softness New parts Youth. All I’ll have is unconditional love They’ll have the luring atmosphere of excitement New found ****** arousals Lust. All I have is me, and that’ll never measure up to Temptation.
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
Me is All;
Can you see me? Am I just invisible To your forever looking eyes? Can't you see How hard I've tried To get myself here, To be heard, And now? It appears my voice has been lost Within the unforgiving crowd. All I ever wanted, Was to own a crown, A place, A thing To call my own, And yet? It seems that no one, Not one single person, Gives a **** about the existence Of a born tune Given the life to do whatever they please But? You seem determined On knocking her novelty down.
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Can
Not too long ago, Facebook and Twitter and other Social Networks All seemed a novelty A truce amongst unimaginative Teens and kids and adults too Whatever happened To romantic paper printed notes The blotched ink that actually meant something Now it is loveless postings And fake marriages And fake relationships This is all thanks To the brain-cell killing 'Media'
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
Media
She resonates intimidation, Playfully, Air of confidence Strewn within Loose, effortless hair. A smile warm And attractive Despite imperfect teeth. Wings; black and inked Make her eyes fly. She's alive with voice, Drawn images Making their ways on to skin. Alive with enthusiasm For all things smoked. And it's impossible Not to light her cigarettes- Which you give to her- Without some sensation Of love. As you watch, Her lips clasp the filter: Pulling in fire to light Her buzz. You want to be a part Of the same songs she sings. You want her in your life As a constant. Almost like I know I used to be, Except your craving for her Doesn't diminish After large doses of time. I'm a novelty, Sizzling out. She's a drug, An addiction Just beginning. And we both know How you are About those.
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Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
I'm a Novelty, Sizzling Out
You give me or Me give you or Give, me, you or You, me give Three simple words but mostly I just want You or You give me you or give me You Just give me, me.. you
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Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Give. Me. You
I just want to tell You        I still You Though it's been years since I still feel the same I try to dismiss the feeling    But when we like never before then you told me " " the first time            I was so I couldn't reply My memories cut out the parts I'm holding on to the memories Maybe I'm just still with the memory And not You Dedicated to whomever You is
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
however You see fit