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#particular
So they march us down the street keeping time to a broken beat And the morals that we worship will be gone Spite the blisters on our feet, we will all make a mass retreat to a world where what we need will carry on It’s spiraling out of hand, and we’re polling the crowd again Nobody told me us life was not free So I say to me “Put up those halfway houses and pray the storm recedes.” We act so vicious out of greed As if there’s a victory among us, none such So we’re taking our friends and we’re puttin’ ‘em out like there ain’t no love to go around Pulling no punches, only teeth Then we’re taking the ends and we’re finding it out It pulls you up to push them down And this is not where I wanna be, either, picky eater Now I think we’ve lost the plot, so we make ourselves a new lot by putting two of our friends inside a room We’ll be popping our candy corn in a protest anti-porn while strapping ourselves inside the viewing booth And staying so clean Taking our Adderall, and going for the guttural Laying all our incensers next to us They’re blaming us for the mess so we’ve gotta totally digress and turn against the only ones we trust Next time I feel mean I’ll try openly Cut out my heart and tape it on my sleeve Can we have their shame redeemed for a handful of thee in tickets (quit this) I’ve got a certain feeling you’ll be beat around it when the bush is in bloom Again, I’ve got a secret 7th sense about it…you’ll dance like a foot if I shoot Though - my mind is resolute: I don’t play with my food. So we’re taking our friends and we’re puttin’ ‘em out like there ain’t no love to go around Pulling no punches, only teeth Then we’re taking the ends and we’re finding it out It pulls you up to push them down and this is not where I want to be, either, picky eater
0
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 7:24 PM UTC
Picky
So they march us down the street keeping time to a broken beat And the morals that we worship will be gone Spite the blisters on our feet, we will all make a mass retreat to a world where what we need will carry on It’s spiraling out of hand, and we’re polling the crowd again Nobody told me us life was not free So I say to me “Put up those halfway houses and pray the storm recedes.” We act so vicious out of greed As if there’s a victory among us, none such So we’re taking our friends and we’re puttin’ ‘em out like there ain’t no love to go around Pulling no punches, only teeth Then we’re taking the ends and we’re finding it out It pulls you up to push them down And this is not where I wanna be, either, picky eater Now I think we’ve lost the plot, so we make ourselves a new lot by putting two of our friends inside a room We’ll be popping our candy corn in a protest anti-porn while strapping ourselves inside the viewing booth And staying so clean Taking our Adderall, and going for the guttural Laying all our incensers next to us They’re blaming us for the mess so we’ve gotta totally digress and turn against the only ones we trust Next time I feel mean I’ll try openly Cut out my heart and tape it on my sleeve Can we have their shame redeemed for a handful of thee in tickets (quit this) I’ve got a certain feeling you’ll be beat around it when the bush is in bloom Again, I’ve got a secret 7th sense about it…you’ll dance like a foot if I shoot Though - my mind is resolute: I don’t play with my food. So we’re taking our friends and we’re puttin’ ‘em out like there ain’t no love to go around Pulling no punches, only teeth Then we’re taking the ends and we’re finding it out It pulls you up to push them down and this is not where I want to be, either, picky eater
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39
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue, the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's scrubs as they usher in unity,  with no imp-unity, the risks, while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued original of what has been painted an uncountable times before, and before… tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful, he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities of this summered simmering, human warming and baking and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers, un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish- ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark, the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm, the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks, nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated, goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance  on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place… 7:00am Silver Beach Shelter Island Aug 19 2025
0
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC
this particular day...
is like no other early morning, man reborn, in the delivery room of sky blue, the offsetting water deeper bluish hue, the trim-all-around of the mixed salad greens of the staff's scrubs as they usher in unity,  with no imp-unity, the risks, while the supervisory sky, disperses cumulus clouds in peppercorn patterns of white chains, or big wide solitary brushstrokes on a a ****** canvas, gettin' the feel in the palm of the heft of brush, the viscosity of the paint, the day's palette reflecting available colors in order to create a uni~cued original of what has been painted an uncountable times before, and before… tho short weighted, was the sleep of the prior night's restful, he awakes to the early morning light, the sounds of early island rouse him, even, arouse him, for the August chill foretells of the early onset of memory loss of the peculiarities of this summered simmering, human warming and baking and natural braking of the slowing of the heart rate, to better accommodate, nature's hints and hidden reminiscences of the true purpose of the summer's intervention upon our collective and unique bottling, our individualized containers, un~lidded, uncovered, eager for the fuel of sunrays replenish- ing the length of our lives by the elixir of the summer it is a chill 63 Fahrenheit at this time of day as we crossover to the nigh day, from the cooling air conditions of dark, the occasional helicopter intrudes upon the morning's calm, the water placid, the geese honking regarding my watchful rewarding presence, a slew, a bevy, of female vocalists, to ease this transitory performance unfolding, and though one feels the existential of his solitary singularity, as he thinks, nay believes, he is the only one in attendance at this ritualized emergence, he takes in the cool of, the heat of, the admixture of both, the clashing integers of each, and he, fully invigorated, goes silent, for once more, he has uncovered new combinations of old words to accept and describe a new day's creation, miracle of miraculous, defying the odds of this ventures's success, his own continuance  on this sheltered but open all around island implanted tween two tines of land, as if all the surroundings were created just to protect this, wholly holy place… 7:00am Silver Beach Shelter Island Aug 19 2025
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38
She wants me less and less everyday Which is why I think about walking away And I know exactly what she's gonna say She will turn it on me in a spectacular way I used to hate that it's something I was able to say I just don't care anymore ©2024
0
May 5, 2024
May 5, 2024 at 12:21 AM UTC
~•§•~ Not Anymore ~•§•~
when does time affect how we feel towards someone? maybe as the seasons progress we will find a winter to lay down and rest. or when the midnight hour fades in your voice is a lullaby that can paint a vision. our radiant past that enriched our hearts pinky promises and aspirations. thinking of the future, do you see our sunflowers ever blooming?
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Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 9:10 PM UTC
timeline
How did it feel When you turned around Rain chafing off your umbrella Shiny shoes tapping on wet pavement How did it feel When you turned and walked away Did it feel like cinema Did you feel like a masterpiece Never looking back on me
0
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 12:37 AM UTC
Blue Monday
Please Don’t ever think that you’re alone That no one has seen with similar eyes Or could understand the initial confusion That is, Inside
0
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
INtuitives
The glass bottle feels better against my lips than you ever did
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Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
Drinkin
Life’s an awful rat race, and it’s getting trickier and trickier, so forget the woes you can’t face, and do nothing in particular. When life starts getting real tough, relax from the perpendicular, lay back and kick your shoes off, and do nothing in particular.
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
Nothing In Particular
Soon I will get far Beneath our footsteps on a long shore, The sand is soft and promising And there she is A beautiful muse Waiting for me like there's no fear In the world Looking forward for challenges
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
Soon I will get far