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#vicarious
I want my voice - to steal fright and darkness and restore it with hope & freedom - to rumble emotion into evanescence of transformation - to answer your imbalance heart - to question your wrong notion and naturally free you from your past. - I am not Jesus, but my words can be converted as: Still as water, soothing as cold water, Real as truth, Direct as straightline. Poetry is an art with no specific purpose of act. But it pays taxes of emotion. ~Mikelson
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Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 5:26 PM UTC
The water skin
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations   Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations Umbral ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
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Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 12:02 AM UTC
Synergy
To love when other people feel happy in themselves is the best bit of human seeing other’s smiles and feeling their confidence, resilience, bliss or comfort rise makes being alive make sense The claws of jealousy, covered in fibre-glass bristles, can make you believe that their gain is your loss which is utter toss Switch to embracing their joy and you’ll employ your own
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Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 9:38 AM UTC
I love you, mankind
The past fades, it must, alas! you fade to dust, oblivion be thy death, you are but a phantom, words be thy breath, mine in writing them. Vicariously, you pull through, A man merely has one yet this one gives life to two? One as elegant and lovely, her immortality deserved to be made true, words be thy breath, mine in writing them. Dreams be thy eyes, mine sinking in them, hours, days, months, passed and to come, Our kin never dies, never did, never will.
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May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 9:22 PM UTC
words be thy breath
I am a bit of a thief, a killer king stealing things that are not mine, to write another line. I pilfered the filtered through which others see, to expand the breadth of what I understand. I leveraged past experiences, to supplement my view that despite my ambitions come off slightly skewed. I even bargained and borrowed my voice from tomorrow, so I could pass pleasant wisdom down to all who come to view this poetry I wrote.
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Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 12:18 PM UTC
Untitled 492
The epitome, of working in the shadows never having the spotlight, or acclaim realizing you may fade, to grey with no dogs in the hunt, or game Kibitzing the edges and corners making edits, of heroes' ploy feeling all the pains and tortures not sharing in, all the hard earned joy Greatness is as greatness does you know within your deepest soul you've done and did everything you could, or can even if, nobody ever knows
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May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 10:40 AM UTC
Behind, the curtain
Never competing watching you win the roses again and again
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Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 7:57 AM UTC
Adoration (10w)
I have no cause to blow my horn or draw attention or high praise No gold upon the clothes I've worn no paths or trails I've blazed And yet I have touched the sleeve of great doings and grand things To this day I still believe I may have tugged on hero's strings
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Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 9:08 PM UTC
Vicarious
Heading for the next election, Votes vied for by vicarious politicians, Who are we all voting for? Is it for their superannuation? Or, Streamlining services to sway us, Does Oz really needs such fuss? We're walking on the winning side, Let's have some more Hi-fives! Debates due no direction, Teen brain selfie obsessions, These are our politicians, It's a short, amusing ride, Someone pass vicarious pesticide!!!
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May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC
THE 2016 ELECTION!
You, photo sharing pop-up rhymester a one-day glory for a full-time jester? is that all you’ve got? exulting in adulation of ‘up thumb’ display painstaking toil for a chirpy convey much bother for naught go away from that evil a rectangular cage a duality so curbing too daunting to assuage surely, not asking a lot! banter a bit, out of the cage break her reckless grind a cursed double-life no cage to hide behind!    it wasn’t what she thought! mother’s day isn’t just a day it is your lifetime, borrowed moment by moment nourished and hallowed a vicarious life – don’t let it rot!
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Vicarious Life
Eye on the TV 'cause tragedy thrills me Whatever flavour It happens to be like; Killed by the husband Drowned by the ocean Shot by his own son She used the poison in his tea And kissed him goodbye That's my kind of story It's no fun 'til someone dies Don't look at me like I am a monster Frown out your one face But with the other Stare like a ****** Into the TV Stare like a zombie While the mother Holds her child Watches him die Hands to the sky crying Why, oh why? 'cause I need to watch things die From a distance Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies You all need it too, don't lie Why can't we just admit it? Why can't we just admit it? We won't give pause until the blood is flowing Neither the brave nor bold The writers of stories sold We won't give pause until the blood is flowing I need to watch things die From a good safe distance Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies You all feel the same so Why can't we just admit it? Blood like rain come down Drawn on grave and ground Part vampire Part warrior Carnivore and ****** Stare at the transmittal Sing to the death rattle La, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels in the hearts of men. Pull your head on out your hippy haze and give a listen. Shouldn't have to say it all again. The universe is hostile. so Impersonal. devour to survive. So it is. So it's always been. We all feed on tragedy It's like blood to a vampire Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies Much better you than I
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Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
Vicarious
Eye on the TV 'cause tragedy thrills me Whatever flavour It happens to be like; Killed by the husband Drowned by the ocean Shot by his own son She used the poison in his tea And kissed him goodbye That's my kind of story It's no fun 'til someone dies Don't look at me like I am a monster Frown out your one face But with the other Stare like a ****** Into the TV Stare like a zombie While the mother Holds her child Watches him die Hands to the sky crying Why, oh why? 'cause I need to watch things die From a distance Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies You all need it too, don't lie Why can't we just admit it? Why can't we just admit it? We won't give pause until the blood is flowing Neither the brave nor bold The writers of stories sold We won't give pause until the blood is flowing I need to watch things die From a good safe distance Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies You all feel the same so Why can't we just admit it? Blood like rain come down Drawn on grave and ground Part vampire Part warrior Carnivore and ****** Stare at the transmittal Sing to the death rattle La, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels in the hearts of men. Pull your head on out your hippy haze and give a listen. Shouldn't have to say it all again. The universe is hostile. so Impersonal. devour to survive. So it is. So it's always been. We all feed on tragedy It's like blood to a vampire Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies Much better you than I
Continue reading...
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The melancholy of the wasteland satiated: pinned down by bliss. Hanging lamps with unnerving smiles flickering with murderous intent. Gas lines are primed and poised for one hell of a barbeque. Altruism amounts to nothing when vultures are involved, adorned in gold. All seeing death machines do figure eights across the sky Spewing heat from the mouth moves the shadows amongst the darkness. A rogue wave capsizes sycophants the weak are run aground mad, grinning like a facsimile amongst the remains of a heart that's imploded.   Even bloated whales consume for greed picking dignity from their teeth. Deny them the glory of being written if you can pry your eyes from the T.V. screen.
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Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Vicarious