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"abdicate" poems
By: Cedric McClester To achieve your ambition Stop hoping and wishing Voting is a mission It’s like going fishing No fish will you find If you don’t cast your line So drop your remote And go out and vote Your candidate Might not win the debate But let me clearly state If you don’t participate Then you abdicate By not voting your choice You lose your voice And can never rejoice Democracy demands Having all hands Both critics and fans Despite their brands Being involved To get their problems solved Things tend to revolve So we’ll be absolved Voting is a right We could lose over night Unless we unite Stop being uptight And stay engage in the fight For which people died Payed in blood or their hide To not be denied Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
VOTING IS A MISSION
There's a nail, he's set up camp in my brain. Hammered with daylight, held infuriatingly fast by night. Even the stiffest claw would be of no use, not anymore. His presence would herald slumber, were I of a normal stock. But no. He brings attention to the tick. The tock. If I inch him further, with fervour, maybe he will abdicate, adjacent to his entry. But I know he'll return, pitching by the morn, leaving my rest completely, utterly, torn.
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
zo|/_ sleep
Having read both cell biology & molecular biology in Bachelor's, This subject seems a lot different when studying it in the Master's. But I just can't abdicate & concede this point in my master's degree at all, I'll study creating poems about every major topic to let poetry happen. That way it'll be easier to revise, Both poetically and theoretically.
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
Fundamentals of Cell & Molecular Biology
We dashed from your ally with Each spring up the hill I could sense The world abdicate from the unfamiliar Hand I was embracing my body became hollow as The wind carefully pierced me we reached the stage the Lucent lights shone on your lips and my mouth watered while The cold seized our bodies forcing them to glue together under the Blanket of stars the warmth soothed the air but we held the cold captive as A cover to cherish the glow that bubbled us from the city lights and the flourishing Leaves when the secretive silence stole the cold’s show “so” you leaned in and brushed your Lips off mine and the bubble burst and everything shifted. All because of this. One. Moment.
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May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
On the Hill
This Letter Poem WM is dedicated to Mr. Williamsji Maveli, our Masterpoet. Why a dedication to him? These initials WM are his names. Accidentally also the initials of the first name of our Dutch Crown prince Willem-Alexander. The second initial is of his wife's first name: Máxima. I want to write also about our Royal Family, since our Queen of the Netherlands Beatrix will abdicate next 30 April 2013 and at the same time Willem-Alexander and his wife will be crowned as King and Queen of the Nederlanden. Now you know a bit about the Dutch Royal family. Today Her Majesty Queen Beatrix is still Queen of de Nederlanden till next 30 April 2013. These humble verse is for you, Williamsji. Please, enjoy! Thank you for your attention.  Sincerely, Sylvia Frances Chan. **************************************************************************************************** This letter W stands for WILLIAMSJI and the next letter, an M for MAVELI This W par accidence is also the first letter of our Crown prince WILLEM-ALEXANDER on next 30 April WILLEM and his époussée, his wife MAXIMA will be crowned King and Queen of Neerlandica Usually our country is called Nederland the foreigners call it mostly the Netherlands the tourists a many of them prefer to say Holland with your permission, this dedication, if I may can also be used as introduction, what do you say? WILLIAMSJI is the first name of our masterpoet he creates poems mostly about sensuality entwined in beauty, eroticism and love when you'll read his poetry you wouldn't see all those I've written about him above Instead you must use your rational ability in the lines throughout his verse you won't find, of course not, all that worse instead, you will enjoy all the beauty of his master's talent writing about sensuality His family name is also beautiful, MAVELI well known as the masterpoet Williamsji Maveli both are his true names belonging to Mr. Maveli this M reminds me of MáXIMA, Crown prince Willem-Alexander's wife in optima Now you know why I dedicate this poem to you your initials are quite the same as Willem and Máxima WM is Williamsji Maveli the famous poet WM is also Crown prince Willem-Alexander and his wife Princess Máxima Still one thing hasn't been told today the 27th April is Willem-Alexander's birthday he has become forty six years old a good father of three daughters, all their first names begin with an A princess Amalia, Alexia and Ariane their grandma is Her Majesty Queen Beatrix she will abdicate after three and thirty years of reign Dear Mr. Williamsji Maheli, our masterpoet your initials WM are exactly the same as our Crown prince Willem-Alexander and his beloved wife Máxima that's why I present this humble dedication to you today as a small Dutch presentation © Sylvia Frances Chan 27th April 1967-2013 Crown prince Willem-Alexander's 46th Birthday
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Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
WM, a Dedication
This Letter Poem WM is dedicated to Mr. Williamsji Maveli, our Masterpoet. Why a dedication to him? These initials WM are his names. Accidentally also the initials of the first name of our Dutch Crown prince Willem-Alexander. The second initial is of his wife's first name: Máxima. I want to write also about our Royal Family, since our Queen of the Netherlands Beatrix will abdicate next 30 April 2013 and at the same time Willem-Alexander and his wife will be crowned as King and Queen of the Nederlanden. Now you know a bit about the Dutch Royal family. Today Her Majesty Queen Beatrix is still Queen of de Nederlanden till next 30 April 2013. These humble verse is for you, Williamsji. Please, enjoy! Thank you for your attention.  Sincerely, Sylvia Frances Chan. **************************************************************************************************** This letter W stands for WILLIAMSJI and the next letter, an M for MAVELI This W par accidence is also the first letter of our Crown prince WILLEM-ALEXANDER on next 30 April WILLEM and his époussée, his wife MAXIMA will be crowned King and Queen of Neerlandica Usually our country is called Nederland the foreigners call it mostly the Netherlands the tourists a many of them prefer to say Holland with your permission, this dedication, if I may can also be used as introduction, what do you say? WILLIAMSJI is the first name of our masterpoet he creates poems mostly about sensuality entwined in beauty, eroticism and love when you'll read his poetry you wouldn't see all those I've written about him above Instead you must use your rational ability in the lines throughout his verse you won't find, of course not, all that worse instead, you will enjoy all the beauty of his master's talent writing about sensuality His family name is also beautiful, MAVELI well known as the masterpoet Williamsji Maveli both are his true names belonging to Mr. Maveli this M reminds me of MáXIMA, Crown prince Willem-Alexander's wife in optima Now you know why I dedicate this poem to you your initials are quite the same as Willem and Máxima WM is Williamsji Maveli the famous poet WM is also Crown prince Willem-Alexander and his wife Princess Máxima Still one thing hasn't been told today the 27th April is Willem-Alexander's birthday he has become forty six years old a good father of three daughters, all their first names begin with an A princess Amalia, Alexia and Ariane their grandma is Her Majesty Queen Beatrix she will abdicate after three and thirty years of reign Dear Mr. Williamsji Maheli, our masterpoet your initials WM are exactly the same as our Crown prince Willem-Alexander and his beloved wife Máxima that's why I present this humble dedication to you today as a small Dutch presentation © Sylvia Frances Chan 27th April 1967-2013 Crown prince Willem-Alexander's 46th Birthday
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60
So, after reading this Programme with her And felt the Blood up-river past your brain She was Smiling. And thus I beg-confirm How to abdicate this Throneful Pain Do Tears from your Fans ever sensate you Even when their Pillars support your Fare Bitter Notes will tweet; And Pretty Souls too Just how you Falter these Dictions beware She was Brave enough to post the Same Event At Risk to debit their Frustrated Fears Brother and Sister: Most live Excuse meant A Funny Welcome to whom they Revere. Please. This isn't the first Turtle Reflex Of Four-Digits-Two minus Year-of-Six.
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Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - FOURTY-SEVEN - TOM DALEY
*In deep psychedelic trance his companion painted canvases that mix past, present and future, factually as quantum physics would vouch; all of it co-exists, don't turn a blind eye, it's not fair. "There is more past here that try to unseat future, than the presence of present, we would make reality sleep won't believe in its patented lies, we'd create a present, in its fantasy, see the future" The narrative is pictured as fallows: The Cat and the Mouse stopped their games, they invented as a past time, and also serious business. Lucky prince befriended a happy pauper. The beauty beguiled the friendly beast, both eloped and lived happily somewhere. The bored king hugged the leader of the coup "I was dying to abdicate at the earliest, you were my last hope, good riddance" he yawned, sounding like cockerel. He looked much relieved; uneasy is the head on which a crown sits like a ****** politico at the moment of election result. The painter watching what is going on said: "Well, the colors I selected this far, were all wrong. Now, I am going to look twice before I decide" But when she worked on her imagination her manifesto was thrown out, she was far more spontaneous there is the rub. Can't say, whether the philosopher was pleased or not, one can't  definitely tell he only smiled and hurried back to catch the last bus he missed.*
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
The Last Bus
Intrusive thoughts Enamoring fiend Amidst an enchanting euphoric rapture my apotheosis complex washes away like knives to my throat in a deluge of familiar burning healing How I crave to abdicate Self Oh unrelinquishing, (r)                           e  lusive Soul;        (c) Abandoning me to languish In this castigating material existence Slowly feeling My faith wavering Withering to the point of nihility Layer by layer Shed my illusions Shatter my Ego So maybe I'll realize Real enlightenment Because I stopped caring for humanity ages ago. If misery loves company How can even I feel lonely Alone to my thoughts In a crowd of my peers? Just keep up appearances ;) You all look so oblivious with boxes over your heads... Obscurely I yearn to be lucid But instead am welcomed by livid disdain I just want to watch the world burn An inferno; more ****** to churn for my every advance she spurned don't object my grotesque romance or squander it in a moment of happenstance; rather, project a mental image by perchance Of me pursuing an remembrance of the past, in the present; instead of looking forward to the pen I wield in hand; Dubiously proclaimed mightier than the sword
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Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Obscure & Lucid
Beware the cavity of depravity Most people my age got lost in the game of parenting Elemental wisdom Or a sentimental prison You've replicated yourself innumerable times And still your nature is love Did you ever wonder what your lives might have been like If you had more often gone within You have to let me go to let me stay She said, I'm a reality ****** But it's been a rough couple of days Life in paradise or life imprisonment You never really know if its in the flow Until you have to let it go So what is this curse that says comfort must always come first I shall not abdicate my throne to anyone The vision of the voiceless is my kingdom We bide our time and strive for sanity As all forms fade and our encounters hibernate What impacts an emperor What impacts an empire Its all within my reach This compulsion to teach To create art That comes from the depths of our hearts Did you take your medicine today? She said, You are my medicine. I replied, Then take me already
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
The cavity of depravity
If I come to terms then my world will collapse. You said time's made of pockets, so when in doubt just dance. Once I was guiding light that he wouldn't go without, Now a mass of ash, dry in starving mouths. Remember how I melted into the carpet that moved; the ebb and flow? Remember the day we stayed up through a hurricane, remember ****** snow? Memory is a sacrifice buried at our ***** feet, Sacraments that leave our minds incomplete. You were my purgatory, your burning makes me clean, I sat in Persephone's throne, it's fit for a queen. Stolen maiden turned ***** six seeds seal fate. I'm consort on your royal tour, but you need to abdicate. Your morganatic lover under covers. Sharpened claws hide in kitten's paws, Concern hovers, while I discover Who I am, will be, and was. Like a chrysalis hatched a week too early, Like plastic, pulled from Laura Palmer's head, Like latex, pulled over another's, Like sheets, ripped out from under, Fear, excitement, Anticipation.
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
Persephone
Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits, only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow. Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity, they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels. Gray blocks hollow until they're filled with my humanity, making me take the choices reaped with devils. I feel like I've lived a day in one hour, it's so early it could be midnight. Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane. I'm at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow. The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1. We have to go. I'm almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear. So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight. There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to **** There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I'll rattle the hills. Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80's movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast. This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.” Stepping into society, I'm a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom. Halfheartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammarys and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities. 5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I've turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Devils Er
Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits, only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow. Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity, they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels. Gray blocks hollow until they're filled with my humanity, making me take the choices reaped with devils. I feel like I've lived a day in one hour, it's so early it could be midnight. Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane. I'm at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow. The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1. We have to go. I'm almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear. So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight. There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to **** There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I'll rattle the hills. Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80's movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast. This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.” Stepping into society, I'm a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom. Halfheartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammarys and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities. 5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I've turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.
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18
There is A hesitation in Creation So burdensome That even the GREATS Were cursed by it. One cannot escape it Master it or Defeat it; It is as apart of us As our breathe, our sweat, Our blood, our death. Hesitation rests on your Shoulders Heavy and wet Hesitation sits lodged in your throat Like a boat stuck in ice Hesitation: The moment before The beauty of Creation. Thoughts bubble and gurgle Like water at the mouth of a river. There, thought waits for action, For courage, for someone to say go. Because there can be no creation Without a trigger. We are machines waiting to be turned on, Used, abused, and one day, thrown out. The mechanism slowly spins within. Each one of us molded, oiled, and shipped. Our destination partly our own And partly another. Who is calling us out in the world But our own selves? Why don't we just stay the **** put? What adventure do we seek to experience? What has life got to offer? Sensation. Hesitation. Creation Or none. My eyes drift to the edge of my desk. I listen to noises I do not appreciate. Most days everything sounds like white noise. On the horizon, a fog rolls in, heavy gray. I am so very tired these days. Someone give me a pick me up. I'll pay, I promise, I will. Someone give me a pick me up, please. Fortunately, fantasy has no definition, only hesitation. Within the glass holds both the truth and the lie. Brown paper sacks filled with groceries sit along the curb. Rhyme and words smell like cranberries and thyme. Cross your fingers Allow your mind to burn like tinder Abdicate the hierarchy Push the pen One more stroke
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Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
Hesitation
There is A hesitation in Creation So burdensome That even the GREATS Were cursed by it. One cannot escape it Master it or Defeat it; It is as apart of us As our breathe, our sweat, Our blood, our death. Hesitation rests on your Shoulders Heavy and wet Hesitation sits lodged in your throat Like a boat stuck in ice Hesitation: The moment before The beauty of Creation. Thoughts bubble and gurgle Like water at the mouth of a river. There, thought waits for action, For courage, for someone to say go. Because there can be no creation Without a trigger. We are machines waiting to be turned on, Used, abused, and one day, thrown out. The mechanism slowly spins within. Each one of us molded, oiled, and shipped. Our destination partly our own And partly another. Who is calling us out in the world But our own selves? Why don't we just stay the **** put? What adventure do we seek to experience? What has life got to offer? Sensation. Hesitation. Creation Or none. My eyes drift to the edge of my desk. I listen to noises I do not appreciate. Most days everything sounds like white noise. On the horizon, a fog rolls in, heavy gray. I am so very tired these days. Someone give me a pick me up. I'll pay, I promise, I will. Someone give me a pick me up, please. Fortunately, fantasy has no definition, only hesitation. Within the glass holds both the truth and the lie. Brown paper sacks filled with groceries sit along the curb. Rhyme and words smell like cranberries and thyme. Cross your fingers Allow your mind to burn like tinder Abdicate the hierarchy Push the pen One more stroke
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59
By: Cedric McClester It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate There’s trouble everywhere And life’s a living hell For far too many people Caught in the devil’s spell They’re busy seeking this world With no thought for the next Worshipping possessions And engaging in loose *** It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Some don’t have a conscience And they’ll do anything Like sexing fourteen year olds Who like the songs they sing They take away their innocence Cuz they don’t know the deal But we’re exposing them right now So they’ll know how we feel It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Some want the best of both worlds They want heaven while raising hell And we’re not making judgments You can look at them and tell That they’re in bed with Satan While they say they love the Lord Just look at what they’re doing Cuz their deeds can’t be ignored It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Here’s the deal let’s keep it real Cuz we’re not out to play It may not be tomorrow But you’re gonna pay one day Cause all things done in darkness Will soon come to light Just because you’re a celebrity Don’t mean you’re living right It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.
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Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
SATAN’S WORLD
By: Cedric McClester It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate There’s trouble everywhere And life’s a living hell For far too many people Caught in the devil’s spell They’re busy seeking this world With no thought for the next Worshipping possessions And engaging in loose *** It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Some don’t have a conscience And they’ll do anything Like sexing fourteen year olds Who like the songs they sing They take away their innocence Cuz they don’t know the deal But we’re exposing them right now So they’ll know how we feel It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Some want the best of both worlds They want heaven while raising hell And we’re not making judgments You can look at them and tell That they’re in bed with Satan While they say they love the Lord Just look at what they’re doing Cuz their deeds can’t be ignored It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Here’s the deal let’s keep it real Cuz we’re not out to play It may not be tomorrow But you’re gonna pay one day Cause all things done in darkness Will soon come to light Just because you’re a celebrity Don’t mean you’re living right It’s Satan’s world That’s how it seems of late Especially when God’s people Appear to abdicate Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.
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54
907 Till Death—is narrow Loving— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness—be spent— But He whose loss procures you Such Destitution that Your Life too abject for itself Thenceforward imitate— Until—Resemblance perfect— Yourself, for His pursuit Delight of Nature—abdicate— Exhibit Love—somewhat—
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1.9k
Till Death—is narrow Loving
I drank deeply from her dimpled cup, focussed my mind, that was jumping like a colt, and made my prophecies thus: "you are the daughter of a reclusive prince (who could also be a pianist ) a dark power wanted to liquidate him, but his mind was luminant, his will was so strong, he fell head over heals in love with a gypsy, a wandering mendicant who was a magician of love. **he loved the magic in life, no wonder he was saved.** You will lose your virginity to a powerful man whose power will not harm this world a bit! **(powerful not harming us is indeed rare!)** you will give birth to a son, who could be a king (though monarchy now is no option kings by other names aren't rare!) even if they make him king, he would abdicate and in turn, would  lead a life loving trees, rivers,  all in the nature, light, and darkness he considers alike. **he is brave, with a heart brimming with love**. you are a blessed woman spirit of gypsy is alive still. give  a hoot about money, but be contended with **abundance of beauty you create, in ways none can imagine!** you don't want to change the world a bit as you like, but let everything go in the order it should, and just walk past the busy streets, towards a breath taking sunset" i heard an eloquent silence. she jumped up from her seat, took a swig of Champaigne, and kissed me twice. O
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Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
a little while ago, in a watering hole
Hacked Every hook Every cue Every one of my references and internal pantheon He's wired into it. How did that happen? He's a stranger I didn't even know he existed two weeks ago And yet... He gets it so right every time. ~~ self referential I like it when he writes of me. To me. That curly feeling. His revelations, and the mirror held up. Tribute, affection, the wry smile of a stranger. The slightly bonkers obsession and fascination. Glimpses of a convoluted mind. ~~ Rib Ice Standing on thin ice Peacoat open, arms wide I step into that hug Burned by warm skin and hard ribs Even more by his kiss He likes to hear me moan ~~ Whose mindfuck now? Are my actions consistent with my words? Am I as I say I am? Do I mean what I say, or am I playing you? How's your ******** detector? cards on the table time abdicate or defecate ante up ~~ headlong He leads me on a scavenger hunt, insinuating, enticing, pulling me into dark corners to kiss me and probe me intimately, until we're off to cross the next threshold in this trip... I have no idea how I got here. Turned round, disoriented, down the rabbit hole. ~~ Deep Purple On the way out Curious discoveries Door handle sticky Musk in the air Who's that knocking at my back door? ~~ Goddess, lit I like this intimate touch I have on your mind and emotions. It makes me feel powerful and protective of you. And pulls me closer in. When you say I am a goddess, your goddess, I suspend disbelief and nod in acknowledgment and agreement. Yes, of course. In those times, I know I am powerful, wise, feminine, and mysterious, And that you are before me, kneeling, clasping my legs, leaning on me, head against hip and belly, worshipful. And sometimes, you clasp my wrist as I'm turning to go and pull me back, quietly certain and not to be resisted. Inevitable. And then what? Kisses? Your hand on my breast bone? Gently steadied to meet your gaze, interminably and for no time at all? I begin to believe you won't vanish.
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
Dia
Hacked Every hook Every cue Every one of my references and internal pantheon He's wired into it. How did that happen? He's a stranger I didn't even know he existed two weeks ago And yet... He gets it so right every time. ~~ self referential I like it when he writes of me. To me. That curly feeling. His revelations, and the mirror held up. Tribute, affection, the wry smile of a stranger. The slightly bonkers obsession and fascination. Glimpses of a convoluted mind. ~~ Rib Ice Standing on thin ice Peacoat open, arms wide I step into that hug Burned by warm skin and hard ribs Even more by his kiss He likes to hear me moan ~~ Whose mindfuck now? Are my actions consistent with my words? Am I as I say I am? Do I mean what I say, or am I playing you? How's your ******** detector? cards on the table time abdicate or defecate ante up ~~ headlong He leads me on a scavenger hunt, insinuating, enticing, pulling me into dark corners to kiss me and probe me intimately, until we're off to cross the next threshold in this trip... I have no idea how I got here. Turned round, disoriented, down the rabbit hole. ~~ Deep Purple On the way out Curious discoveries Door handle sticky Musk in the air Who's that knocking at my back door? ~~ Goddess, lit I like this intimate touch I have on your mind and emotions. It makes me feel powerful and protective of you. And pulls me closer in. When you say I am a goddess, your goddess, I suspend disbelief and nod in acknowledgment and agreement. Yes, of course. In those times, I know I am powerful, wise, feminine, and mysterious, And that you are before me, kneeling, clasping my legs, leaning on me, head against hip and belly, worshipful. And sometimes, you clasp my wrist as I'm turning to go and pull me back, quietly certain and not to be resisted. Inevitable. And then what? Kisses? Your hand on my breast bone? Gently steadied to meet your gaze, interminably and for no time at all? I begin to believe you won't vanish.
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52
What's it gonna take? For me to enter your mind, I've heard of a universe; That you try so hard to confine. What's it gonna take; For me to make you smile The crinkle in your eyes is enough; To make anyone go wild What's it gonna take; For your eyes to meet mine; There is serenity in them That I cannot fathom; What's it gonna take; For you to whisper my name; My heart would burst into a thousand flames And most willingly; Abdicate.
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Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 10:34 AM UTC
What's it gonna take? 🌌
and now you're singing karaoke... so ha ha and Kyoto. and this is the part where i tell you i love you? it sounds like it's the part where i **** your dog off and laugh; or maybe that's the part where i say i'm scooch-peppery-ish! tangy! mm hmm! solid gold worth's an advert! aha, Elvis just rolled up his sleeves! while Shoon can-can the worthy, sire nigh nigh the knighted made speeches at a royal funeral that made 20 kings abdicate, we all thought of Monaco and Senna... lipstick Helsinki... crisscross Albania and: Waterloo... when Napoleon sniffed glue... oh Waterloo! i too built Stockholm in a day, based on the pop culture of Europe casually so. but indeed Sean, the flowery basin of all that's Essex, Sussex and Kent, i.e. Scottish, show... i'm ashoored it'sh Shcandinavian cartoon or at least halfwit Belgian with the moustache, dumb-flicked Hercules Poirot... authored by a nagging Agatha Christensen.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:34 PM UTC
western conquest of communism
What is the purpose of beauty without creatures to charm? How can the moon awake passions without the black sky of the night? Where would swallows be going without a winter making them fly? Why are you afraid of the darkness if you experienced the light? We are born in pain, because it is pain what proves us alive. We must master the fall before we learn how to walk. We can only accomplish success if we experienced the fail. You are worried, I see, use this friend’s ear, let’s talk. I hope you believe me, my friend, your worries will pass. You will endure the pain, you will soon understand. It can’t be always the same, it can’t be back as it was. But your night will be over, making place to a brighter dawn. The phoenix has risen from ashes infinite times. The flood of punishment passed for resurgence of life. Our ancestors strove struggles to bequeath us  some peace. You can make the future brighter. Stand up! Do not abdicate!
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Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 2:22 AM UTC
Caterpillar
I don't want to listen to your ******** today 'Cos you never really have anything good to say Empathy is dying away Free to judge and to abdicate You’re just hiding behind cruel words That wont ever get you anywhere Every one is walking around at night Trying to find their own piece of sunlight Shady figures roaming the alley way Just trying to survive the day Always under constant judgment By people who don't know them All the agreements you've made To everything that they've said Have seem to found a way Deep inside To brake the pride you once held on to Don't include me in your bitter battle Of Politic, gender, religion and orientation ‘Cos I’m getting a headache Just trying to fix my mistakes It really is a shame When humans act inhumane https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/bitter-battles
0
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
Bitter Battles
I saw a chariot with the mare in it making a man carry it I saw Marie Antoinette and Judas Iscariot abdicate an abortion because they weren't married yet I saw aunt Harriet barreled over bones in a casket gasping begging them not to bury it I saw words on a page that made no sense I saw leopard prints I saw tents with tenants unable to pay their rents
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Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
ask me again and i will tell you
your might is like a river your unfailing power flows readied arrows in the quiver but it’s mercy you bestow you don’t relish in the flesh rather it’s delighting in the heart for my life in turn be blessed is the reason you take part your love is what admires my humbly surrendered name what your soul desires is your compassion made my fame and it’s your conceit you abdicate to transpose my wayward state
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC
abdicate
A world convulsed at fallacious lies, With a pensive reality, And caliginous skies. A night as dark as the depths of hell, Malignant capabilities, Your sinister voice I know too well. Due to your influence, I have become oblique. Dreading all the words That you speak. Am I truly the one you seek? Now I have prospected and also detected That the only way to be consummate Is to remain idyllic, and appreciate The taciturnity you’ve effected I apprehended That I should have escaped while I could But I pretended Like I misunderstood That you were do good. You insanity was cloaked by a hood. I’m not endorsing you to deliver my downfall, Aforementioned here, is my last stand. Absent from reality I’ve become, Just to plummet down this peak once more, Due to the careless vivacity of the fellow that is blind, to his doings unkind. And now, all you do is provoke The constant fear that I have chosen the wrong bloke. And for this I have frozen A friendship that was golden. I really shouldn’t crave you but for some reason I can’t abdicate.
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Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
The Common Adversary
I don't know.. What have i done without it.. No light.. no colours.. Things i see.. Would have been like rumors.. Although small.. But part of my beauty.. Is all black.. But shows all colourful.. Yes it is.. My two round eyes .. I don't know.. What have i done without it.. If you get lost... Il be full of remorse.. You let me call.. All my pal.. I love to touch.. Coz you are such.. Yes it is.. My cell phone .. I don't know .. What have i done without it.. You got me able to live things.. You take me to the world of success.. You give me opportunities And people's praise sometimes.. You are something I could never abdicate.. Yes it is.. My lucky pen .. I don't know.. What have i done without it. Of all the things i mentioned Your the one who gets me most addicted And which i can never abstain Something which is not dalliance And will lst forever Coz only the aroma of yours Is paragon for me Yes it is My mug full of coffee
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
JUST RIDDLING !