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#peculiar
A Peculiar Poet, only one characteristic, vary, varying, variegated, various, varied; neither among nor between, living within a host, in splendid isolation, supping on diverse dusts of a human mixte, drinking deep from the diverse melange; human, humane, hominid, **** sapien, he eats a salad of humanity, dressing it differently daily anew, with newly acquainted alpha~words of one of the 7,000 languages upon this planet spoken by the varying beaucoup individuals of Mankind 7:10am Thu May 14 nml. f i n i
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May 14
May 14, 2026 at 6:39 AM UTC
A Peculiar Poet
Who are they to make me feel this way? Who signed the papers, who stamped the permission slip that said yes, you may crash her spirit until she forgets her name? Who gave them the right to sand me down with opinions, to call it “help,” to rename my becoming as failure? They changed me. They pressed and pulled and judged until I bent in places I didn’t even know could ache. And now they stare, confused, asking why I look different. I was placed on this earth too. Not as an accessory. Not as a lesson. Not as someone’s emotional labour. I was placed here to have a home and kids too, to burn dinner and laugh about it, to build dreams that scare me, to grow old with stories that don’t apologize for existing. But selfish — they held me hostage against what works or doesn’t, measured my worth with earthly scales that never knew how to weigh a soul. They drove me from sanity to insanity, then asked why I’m tired. But listen. I am someone’s daughter. I am someone’s friend. I am a future mom I am a person who survived being misunderstood and is still here claiming space with a trembling voice that refuses to disappear. And if that makes them uncomfortable— good. Because I am done shrinking to make destruction feel justified.
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Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:35 PM UTC
Who Gave Them the Right
your eyes it tells a beautiful story it is incomparable to many eyes I have met before the most peculiar eyes I have ever seen
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Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 11:11 PM UTC
bizarro
I have six of them buried deep inside my head I could just pull them out one by one if I wanted to But I tell myself "don't dig up the dead!" "It's for the best!" they echo..
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Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 5:56 AM UTC
Drawers
The door in the attic is peculiar Sometimes I am lucky enough to find it cold And I will stumble inside and fall Far away from here It's like a dream, a new life You must look around and above you And then you will see it Above, up there, high, far away There it was, I saw the hole Through my fluttering eyelids it was always grey But when I say so Mother starts to weep uncontrollably From here I can only sit and watch and ponder Where it starts and where it ends And if there is a castle of wonder I'd like to see it one day Even if I am old and empty And I have lived forever Even if I am all bones and dust and dead But I'm still alive and my pulse is fascinating I stand up and run, maybe if I run fast enough I will start to fly Yet all that comes of it is a dizzy heart and burning eyes Sometimes, the Big Grey will ask me, "What are you searching for?" I don't know yet, I just want to see past the shadow What is it like, where dreams are told, Where dreams are sold? On the days that she sits me down And tells me what's real and what's not real I wish I could give Mother a dream too Because the lines on her face make her look so tired And that's when they start fluttering again Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. When will I know what dreams are like?
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Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 5:23 AM UTC
What Dreams are Like
You brighten up my day in such a peculiar way. My usual blue feeling morph into a smile which the familiar tears can't wash away.
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Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
A Kind Of Magic
In the weirdest turn of events that day As a cop toting guns and pepper spray I gathered an urge to pen my first ode In my lunch hour, before hitting the road To sirens and light of my precinct's space not a stanza wrote, yet my mind's apace the pen's the problem; confidence recede Pondered a visit to a friend, indeed Thoughtful I'm moving, this old clue I'd act on Brooklyn's pen thief; kleptomaniac acquired from him, an ink dipping quill of Huia birds, still boxed with its bill Case solved; on the back of the bill it hints "Dear Mayor, pen's for poems; lead's for thugs."
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Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 9:59 PM UTC
A Peculiar Pen's Poem
Puzzling and cryptic Quite an unpredictability Bizarre and eccentric This is such a mystery Filled with suspense and darkness Such an unclear scenery A clouded situation appears That is a peculiarity
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Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
Puzzling And Cryptic
Out of the blue, she blurted out, "Peculiar stuff, I want to assert" I had no guess what was her find. (More like many a times one sees onself in turns of life, unexpected, I presumed) "Oh! is it? tell me all about it " I enthused, And woke up at the very same moment in to a dream, of different kind, half progressed, There was no trace of a 'her' in this dream I wormed in!
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Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 8:34 AM UTC
Peculiar stuff
There lived an old woman In a tumbled old cottage In the midst of the silent wood. She kept figurines And the most peculiar things In her little old cottage in the wood. Her vases were chipped Her tapestries ripped And her silverware bent like her back, But beautiful was she And her beloved oddities In that little old cottage in the wood.
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Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
There Lived an Old Woman
I don't think I know where to begin or where to go How to leave chance behind how to change perceptions how to treat my own mind I don't know why I have this need to share and to show Exactly where I stand ever spilling heart in hand I don't know why I keep asking for truth from strangers only passing by Same old retreat numbing sadness on repeat I have no idea what to tell you now how to make myself more clear How to leave and how to save how to make my feet behave I'm a glass full of shards a peculiar collection lots of shiny unknown parts I don't know who I am anymore I don't think I knew before
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Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
While listening to this song I remember...
People couldn't find the way probably they forgot could it be they were too hurt to remember or to happy to notice If my mind was a road I'd give you a way a perfect example of a person who thrives for other's needs while loosing his own way If you broke down clouded with sin only you can heal yourself it starts from within
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
Lost
Imagine blonde ponytail swinging from brunette root angled in a straight line with her jaw bone Pouted lips and manicured eyelashes layered in dark, heavy fabrics to counter her fair skin and tall golden brown boots Her hands are heavy sharp. Her eyes are tired her jaw compresses. Up and down chewing on gum she has a few red scars scattered on her cheeks like freckles She's curved not necessarily slouched but more like it's the only way to fit all of her into her chair her legs are crossed her earrings dangle as if in mid-air She's thinking, constantly thinking
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
Long Thinking Girl
At times I wonder if you are stable and how you are able. You lay in the bed for what seems like days on end without food or water to begin In the deepest part of your sleep, you let out a howling wail I can only resemble as a boy in heat When I come up to check on you, like any crazy human you'll either shoo me away or rub my head so true After you hibernate in numbers, the amount of milk you consume would put me in a diabetic overdose slumber [to be welcomed] When you go to the room where waters pour from the ceiling and *** in a bowl of water that looks refreshing and appealing That's when out comes the dragon, throat roaring, bloodshot vision, blowing smoke like a continuous cannon And you'll stand and stare at the mirror, this you can't hide I've been with you a long time here Not looking at yourself or your grooming, you look at what you've become and why you can't bury six-deep this glooming And truthfully, I get it. The solitude, the independence, the struggle to live alone, when you leave every morning and return at dark After having many companions around and now not. I'm the last cat standing as well, I get it The desire to be nurtured and massaged only to be shoo'd away more than half the time To eat the same foods day in and day out Have a growth of hair breed on your face and body and scratch the itch feed that need, only to wake up everyday looking like yesterday, I get it friend We have an innate nature to feel our peculiarities are alienated, but our similarities are there and that can not be denied or debated. Thoughts on You, from the cat
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Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
From the cats point of view
At times I wonder if you are stable and how you are able. You lay in the bed for what seems like days on end without food or water to begin In the deepest part of your sleep, you let out a howling wail I can only resemble as a boy in heat When I come up to check on you, like any crazy human you'll either shoo me away or rub my head so true After you hibernate in numbers, the amount of milk you consume would put me in a diabetic overdose slumber [to be welcomed] When you go to the room where waters pour from the ceiling and *** in a bowl of water that looks refreshing and appealing That's when out comes the dragon, throat roaring, bloodshot vision, blowing smoke like a continuous cannon And you'll stand and stare at the mirror, this you can't hide I've been with you a long time here Not looking at yourself or your grooming, you look at what you've become and why you can't bury six-deep this glooming And truthfully, I get it. The solitude, the independence, the struggle to live alone, when you leave every morning and return at dark After having many companions around and now not. I'm the last cat standing as well, I get it The desire to be nurtured and massaged only to be shoo'd away more than half the time To eat the same foods day in and day out Have a growth of hair breed on your face and body and scratch the itch feed that need, only to wake up everyday looking like yesterday, I get it friend We have an innate nature to feel our peculiarities are alienated, but our similarities are there and that can not be denied or debated. Thoughts on You, from the cat
Continue reading...
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*come forward, you sweet whimsical dream. fill my mind up with all sorts of beauties. leave my bed empty, but my smile frozen. these euphoric senses dance on my duvet, to later sleep on my pillow. I wish I could stay here forever. for this one feeling. the feeling of something. something like the very feeling of feelings;* feels peculiar. *here I have forgotten you. here I am free of the idea of a silhouette, that used to be mine. but; there is always a but. when the sun's lazy hot rays tickle my eyes open. and the birds, now mournful, chirping trespass my ears. there falls the heavy brick down, and with a sudden bang. I see the raven black silhouette, crystallized in the corner of my eye.
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Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
On My Mind
Seen through your Peculiar eyes, Is a mind Full of pink skies And Vivid Constellations.
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Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
Peculiar Eyes
What am I? A mere butterfly in the summer fly of your beauty? Why am I here, coloured by the summer sky of your grace? Here I am to face the nurture and the chase of a diamond dragon's pace. The searcher and my crystal percher. Where am I? I'm gliding by the land to overhead. By the starry riverbed, and time goes ahead, as I taste the words I never said... I see flower heads of lover's lies that suffer by the frontal eye of azure skies, who's flustered by the boats ahead. Who rode ahead the ocean bed of love and lust. My flesh is a myriad of coloured dyes. And when I wonder why, I am discovered by... What? Truth. And pain. I must be going insane...
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Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
Peculiar
it was a beautiful starry night when we were both drunk, lying on the sand you told me bout your ugly and weird fascinations i was intently listening to your most peculiar thoughts there were moments when we could just shut up for a minute but feel no awkwardness at all i can hear you breathing and that, i think, is still the best melody I've heard so far sometimes i'd take a quick look at your face you looked so happy, i almost thought i was dreaming, as if everything's not real but no, it was profoundly true. we felt infinite. that was the only time i ever felt alive. but that was then, life happened. and i don't know where you are now. i wonder who's lying with you on the sand now, listening intently to your most peculiar thoughts listening closely to your inhales and exhales sharing the most comfortable silences with you staring at the beautiful moonlight, feeling infinite. wishing the night would never end. he must be so lucky.
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May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
Starry starry night
She caught a glimpse of him, her senses paused Her heart starting beating so loud, it muted the world.
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Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 4:51 PM UTC
Synchronicity
i wonder if any of the same hair when we first got together is still on my head it's a weird thought maybe the very last centimeters hair cuts hair dye remember when my ex cut my hair? remember both times i cut my hair to my shoulders or above? i wonder where the hair is that you first touched several hair brushes scattered on pillows and old sheets washing machines wherever i go my hair will leave damage breakage fall out from stress somewhere, right now is the old me or breaking down in the soil now i am so artificial
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
i have hair: a poem
If I could tip toe on the edges of the universe. I'd do it ostentatiously with a top hat and orange shoes. If I could slide down a rainbow I'd do so in a dicky bow. If I could walk on water, I'd play the banjo If I could travel though time I'd drop you line 'I wish you were here' I'd arrange a 5th dimensional candle lit dinner If we could stay together forever and ever, I'd throw in another century just for good measure.
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:18 PM UTC
The Colourful Creator