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"accelerates" poems
my lips purse to meet you you are like champagne unopened are you sweet or are you bitter are you spoiled are you a winner take a beat from my heart, it accelerates and strengthens if you pluck an eyelash from me I’ll remember how to cry again — and just in case you’re wondering, I’m still inclined to hold my own hand guess what I bought this cactus ‘cos I don’t have to care much for it we both know I can’t admit I can’t commit to letting something bloom but I’m hoping you won’t notice see my green thumb, I am caring! but see the cactus… I am lying…
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
cactus
the friction of  my selfish stubbornness colliding with your personality is nothing compared to the speed at which you always send my heart slamming into my fractured ribs. just enough to remind me of the laws of attraction and how my mind accelerates and crashes and how you always have enough force to save me from the edge of the map
0
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
physics
yesterday, I caught my words crying not out but within. cryptic and concealed no more as the rain poured up and the ice melted shut. The muscles isotonic strain kindles heart filled hurtful strength as endurance accelerates. Wasted ones and fives on groped lonely women. The ******* forgot the fishbowl and his keys on government steps but remembered the leaky wineglass. Total recall enforced the key ring's silhouette rolls on by looking for the keys to grab a broom and clean up this mess of market debt and ajar markets. Ceiling tiles mist and swirl and wait for mercy to strike again
0
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Endurance
How can we attain the perspective of the introspective When detectives aren't respected By crowds drawn by clowns Made vicious by the wishes Of Hades with rabies In order for humanity to progress We must all consider our place in society Emotional disclosure accelerates our human race Until externalizations halt our momentum We begin to drift Discourse drifts toward absurdity Absurdity drifts toward reality Reality drifts toward Hell And accepting reality Means accepting the bullet's laughter while it drifts through the innocent Then we must accept where our souls have drifted So our minds drift into fantasy We wrap our abandon ties around our neck And go to work We live in a society Where not giving a **** about what others think Is actually encouraged Yes, exchanging ideas can hurt That's whiplash as we stop drifting and jolt in each other's direction But communication Takes detours to dead ends As honesty and compassion Elude us In a self-perpetuating cycle When education's only purpose Is learning how to ****** each other Before we know too much Our species drifts toward extinction
0
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
Drift
In your eyes shines universe in the shape of your face. The stars whisper verses of unconditional love. Light of the moon emanates with your heart. Sun burns oath of immortality on my skin. Planets dance to the music of our souls. Even the black hole discovered the essence of love. Stardust wraps our bodies and souls. Meteorites juggle in space of desire to hit ecstasy of fated land. Interstellar space is filled with love of devotion. Electromagnetism guards intimacy of our bodies. Gravity is jealous about force of our feelings. Strong impact rising between us. Space-time continuum is richer in our kisses. All forms of matter and energy count light years of love head over heels. Our love was born in the Big Bang's peculiarity, existes since the dawn of time. Atoms formed union of our beings. Star agglomerated in galaxies of fascination and fulfillment. Supernova of our passion is new kind of cosmic explosion. The shock wave propagates even in the toes and feet. We transformed in pure energy. Expansion of our love accelerates. Existence has become a paradise on earth, cosmic catharsis. Love is bliss of *********** with you. Drink a love potion to the bottom of romanticism. You will raise where I am. In you I found the multiverse.
0
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Cosmic love
Yes, you are gorgeous Makes me love drunk all day How you are gorgeous you asked? Words can't even give a brief explanation Your gorgeousness Is beyond this world Something I never seen Never to be detected in the milky way Deflecting every radio waves Your gorgeousness Is something that cannot be seen By the naked eye Reflecting every traces of light Causing internal reflection Forming rainbows around the sky Your gorgeousness Is poison Kills me inside and out Accelerates the drums of my heartbeat Nearing me to my dear grave Yes, you are gorgeous Can it be true? I'm not sure if it is affecting everyone else But, I guarantee you I have fallen head over heels for you
0
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
**** you are gorgeous
There's a fire hose: You drink it. Well, you try to drink it. You playfully examine it For a few moments, then You wrap your lips around the nozzle, And pump up the pressure: It blows you back And pins you to a wall. The spray stings your eyes, But if it brings tears to them, They are washed away by the flow, Before you, or anyone else, Can be sure they were there. Your limbs ache, You think that if only You could rest them, You could hold them stronger But the time for rest rarely comes. Some people, washed in despair Or simply sanity, step out of the way Never to look back and never to regret. Some collapse or simply drown. Others stand the force. The mass of the waters accelerates, But still they stand strong. Wavering at times, But never giving up. And one day the flow slows To a stream, to a trickle, to a drip Then it stops. You stand there: Sudden and Sullen, Dripping and Deflated, Percolated, but Proud, Wet, but Wise. And you reach out, Brass Rat rusted to your knuckle: You grab a beaker and into it You wring the waters of knowledge From the clothes of your experience. You take this drought and distill it. You bottle it, you market it, or you give it away, But, with luck, it takes the world by storm. From the fire hose flow rises the rarefied results Filtered through your hands, Tested in your trials, Fortified in your failures, Vivified in your victories. You look back with mixed emotions: Wondering if it was all really worth it. Your prospective my grow, It may never be clear, But the fire hose flows on... ~D.B. Guy (March 6-12, 2010)
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
MIT
There's a fire hose: You drink it. Well, you try to drink it. You playfully examine it For a few moments, then You wrap your lips around the nozzle, And pump up the pressure: It blows you back And pins you to a wall. The spray stings your eyes, But if it brings tears to them, They are washed away by the flow, Before you, or anyone else, Can be sure they were there. Your limbs ache, You think that if only You could rest them, You could hold them stronger But the time for rest rarely comes. Some people, washed in despair Or simply sanity, step out of the way Never to look back and never to regret. Some collapse or simply drown. Others stand the force. The mass of the waters accelerates, But still they stand strong. Wavering at times, But never giving up. And one day the flow slows To a stream, to a trickle, to a drip Then it stops. You stand there: Sudden and Sullen, Dripping and Deflated, Percolated, but Proud, Wet, but Wise. And you reach out, Brass Rat rusted to your knuckle: You grab a beaker and into it You wring the waters of knowledge From the clothes of your experience. You take this drought and distill it. You bottle it, you market it, or you give it away, But, with luck, it takes the world by storm. From the fire hose flow rises the rarefied results Filtered through your hands, Tested in your trials, Fortified in your failures, Vivified in your victories. You look back with mixed emotions: Wondering if it was all really worth it. Your prospective my grow, It may never be clear, But the fire hose flows on... ~D.B. Guy (March 6-12, 2010)
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54
a shooting star is born from the bleakness of the heavenly spheres racing to earth the flashing streak sears a burning path across the sky at dazzling speed it accelerates, slashing the porous atmosphere like a laser bolt from Zeus's own hand then evaporates into the nothingness of the midnight sky the universe remains little changed from its advent and passing Charlie Parker: Star Eyes jbm Catskills, NY 8/88
0
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
Shooting Star
she closes her eyes as the nightmares flash she screams and wake up in cold sweat her heartbeat accelerates as she glances furtively around her dark room frightened and terrified as she lies back on her bed she keeps her eyes open in fear of the dark the unknown lurking there yet another night of hers where her sleep was disrupted just like any other nights its a wonder how she hasn't gotten used to it she prayed and wished to escape this state of insomnia even if it was comatose she wouldn't mind
0
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Insomnia.
sleepy eyes open glimpse high ceiling red wood beams house built in 1920s glance out window tree tops blue skies mountains in distance flock of birds flying east chirping sounds passing car engine accelerates inhale deep breath through nose stretch legs plantar dorsal flex feet raise arms over head stiffness in shoulder feel strange sensitivity in right pectoral above ****** cautiously examine with hands feel coarse lump growing more like nub smell moss glare down at growth protruding from chest panicky by soreness rise from bed to mirror on closet door tree stem jutting out from chest inspect dark bark like calloused growth little leafs budding this cannot be race in nervous tantrum run to bathroom suffer painful weight pulling me down clutching carrying foliated limb with arms see myself in mirror horrified stagger back to bed lie on right side branch resting on mattress breathe anxious breaths reexamine pectoral area feel sinewy roots spreading under skin across chest up neck down over stomach waist legs forget how to get home disorientated nauseous exhausted what is this flora invading me ******* kafka metamorphosis post-modern hyper-real narration without accountability jorge luis borges metaphor without mindfulness fairytale run wild jean baudrillard simulacrum psychosis room now filling with plant undergrowth stinking of earth dirt gooey slugs worms shells bugs festering climbing towards windows voracious for light warmth moisture blocking out morning sun entire body trapped in tangled twisted leafy twigs excruciating pain fright lungs gasping suffocating encroaching darkness fatigue loss surrender wake up 4 AM from nightmare scared to fall back to sleep
0
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 3:45 AM UTC
remember to water garden
sleepy eyes open glimpse high ceiling red wood beams house built in 1920s glance out window tree tops blue skies mountains in distance flock of birds flying east chirping sounds passing car engine accelerates inhale deep breath through nose stretch legs plantar dorsal flex feet raise arms over head stiffness in shoulder feel strange sensitivity in right pectoral above ****** cautiously examine with hands feel coarse lump growing more like nub smell moss glare down at growth protruding from chest panicky by soreness rise from bed to mirror on closet door tree stem jutting out from chest inspect dark bark like calloused growth little leafs budding this cannot be race in nervous tantrum run to bathroom suffer painful weight pulling me down clutching carrying foliated limb with arms see myself in mirror horrified stagger back to bed lie on right side branch resting on mattress breathe anxious breaths reexamine pectoral area feel sinewy roots spreading under skin across chest up neck down over stomach waist legs forget how to get home disorientated nauseous exhausted what is this flora invading me ******* kafka metamorphosis post-modern hyper-real narration without accountability jorge luis borges metaphor without mindfulness fairytale run wild jean baudrillard simulacrum psychosis room now filling with plant undergrowth stinking of earth dirt gooey slugs worms shells bugs festering climbing towards windows voracious for light warmth moisture blocking out morning sun entire body trapped in tangled twisted leafy twigs excruciating pain fright lungs gasping suffocating encroaching darkness fatigue loss surrender wake up 4 AM from nightmare scared to fall back to sleep
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1
There's a moment when everything accelerates And there's no questioning, things just are. Madly. Frantically. My mind gyrates; Playing wildly, dancing upon each single star. Blurred vision precipitates the tears As I freeze, knowing in my heart of hearts That each word falls upon belligerent ears, And takes second place to your townhouse art. What pain could Monet paint when floodwaters Rise, and it becomes clear that the clearest Understanding lies in the theatre's Eyes? The curtains fall to the finale's dearest Friend, and it's there I pretend that it's just a natural disaster, That this is a craft I still find hard to master.
0
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Tears
Dimmest obscurity the depths adduce. Awaiting an impatient pulse. Dazzling light the ocean floor conceals. Its rhythm slowly accelerates, yet alone. -Risk is to be taken.
0
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
Ocean Floor
No place for roleplay in this illumined shrine of sanctified skin and porcelain where the most literal of lovers whelm in the stainless steel hot spring's silver stream where the smoke screen of clothing clashes with the steam cloud rising like ironic bread in Eden's kitchen where a woman turns around wrings and whips her satin slope of hair around a shoulder leaving to her man ideas and a bar of soap that slithers effortlessly in his palm like a melted deck of cards where a bubbled corner is embedded in the small of her back elevated from the tailbone to the neck and lowered like the zipper of the dress he parted not so long ago where a jolt of urgency accelerates an exercise in the ski of soap around the junction of the hips and outer buttocks and a segue silently approved by her arms hoisted to attend to hair thought to be already washed and conditioned where the soap is shared by both hands on the scaling of her sudded sternum presaging an unseen demand from the beacons of progression swelling in the wet heat where a hand of soap and hand of slide verifies the demand of hands on her beaded ******* where he answers her swell with his stiffness in the final feel of mystery before a soft shift of arms approximates a plea for a frontal rinse where hands return to ****** crowned chest sparking the advent of eye contact all the while where his ****** intensifies in proportion to the eyes closed in anticipation of their saturated mouths' magnetic duet where saliva and the cooling water mix on their cameos of tongues slipping through their lips in the midst of the mist and where their towels hang in a forgotten heap while he takes her dripping body in his arms and carries her to where the roleplay will have to wait after all
0
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
CISTERN
No place for roleplay in this illumined shrine of sanctified skin and porcelain where the most literal of lovers whelm in the stainless steel hot spring's silver stream where the smoke screen of clothing clashes with the steam cloud rising like ironic bread in Eden's kitchen where a woman turns around wrings and whips her satin slope of hair around a shoulder leaving to her man ideas and a bar of soap that slithers effortlessly in his palm like a melted deck of cards where a bubbled corner is embedded in the small of her back elevated from the tailbone to the neck and lowered like the zipper of the dress he parted not so long ago where a jolt of urgency accelerates an exercise in the ski of soap around the junction of the hips and outer buttocks and a segue silently approved by her arms hoisted to attend to hair thought to be already washed and conditioned where the soap is shared by both hands on the scaling of her sudded sternum presaging an unseen demand from the beacons of progression swelling in the wet heat where a hand of soap and hand of slide verifies the demand of hands on her beaded ******* where he answers her swell with his stiffness in the final feel of mystery before a soft shift of arms approximates a plea for a frontal rinse where hands return to ****** crowned chest sparking the advent of eye contact all the while where his ****** intensifies in proportion to the eyes closed in anticipation of their saturated mouths' magnetic duet where saliva and the cooling water mix on their cameos of tongues slipping through their lips in the midst of the mist and where their towels hang in a forgotten heap while he takes her dripping body in his arms and carries her to where the roleplay will have to wait after all
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59
From sevenpanda.com . Computer accessories enhance the efficiency in the way you are using the computer. This additional stuff really adds value to your work and accelerates the rhythm of your job. Take the functions of basic accessories like speakers, printers, scanners, UPS, surge protector, headsets, cases and covers, cleaning and repair kits. Now imagine... can you do your business without these accessories? Now think about some advanced accessories, which include webcam, microphones, gaming equipments, portable storage devices, CD and DVD recordable drives, network accessories and modem. All these accessories - basic and advanced - to help your business flourish. Overall, accessories are must-have for a complete pc experience. No matter what kind of system you have, whether it is desktop pc or laptop, these hardware and peripherals can make or mar your business if not selected smartly. http://sevenpanda.com
0
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Computer accessories
Acceptance Accentuates And Accelerates Alacrity, Ambition, Acumen; Allowing Astounding Achievements And Accomplishments All Alive!
0
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Sonnet #1
let me teach you how to dance to the song that is my heartbeat first; lay your head upon my chest stay silent, unmoving, hold your breathe nothing? no, there it is steady, unyeilding, comforting but as I feel you slowly exhale it’s tempo accelerates of course you induce that ‘butterflies in my stomach’ effect if I was talking, I would’ve stuttered as your fingers absentmindedly drew patterns on my wrists i could feel the hairs rising my body calling out to your touch gentle, calming, peaceful and when I peak at you your eyes are closed, relaxed savouring the moment our pulses meld together and dance a tranquil tango.
0
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
.tranquil tango
Great fades to gray where commonplace turns to decay where the abnormal becomes negatively neurological which leads to the ingestion of government sector sedatives and we wonder why segregation of brain and mind is prominent promises never kept and mind that never gets better but before we fix the broken we must make you broke. Objects in the mirror to fit society's standards E news, TMZ, fox- all the new cancer. Throw your money at it make it go away and watch in awe as the auction of your autonomy accelerates- your mind is money to the highest bidder and they don't budge when they watch your wallet quiver. Quiet in the courtroom- little Kyle's got a drug charge searched his car without consent convict at the age of sixteen which is sickening to see. Kyle was just depressed and needed a little THC the only thing that would help him with social anxiety and now he's facing a charge for not taking the meds marijuana manipulation of the municipals and now little kyle won't be able to go to a good school 18 the record will be swiped clean but the debt of the courtroom creeps into his credit. Society's white lies will tell you you'll be fine debt from the courtroom turn to slanging dope- dealing with depression while dealing in possession pulled over, twice moreover propaganda's progression. They feed us the same lies we go out of our way to buy- news channels, channeling bias views for more views sitting idly by as our lives pass through changing channels as we become the chattel slaves to our own brain waves from the manipulation we love to bow down to this free nation led by puppets- controlled by intimidation tactics. It's just backwards, the backbone of the nation doesn't have one Columbine happened because little Kyle could get a gun, run- repeat until it's done, dictating your discrimination it's fun until everyone has to run away from the shooter. Bangs heard throughout the world talk of how his head was on backwards smoking on these backwoods But he was off the marijuana and on the medicine- FDA approved turned into a bullet to the head. BANG. Sinister structure of society- **** america why did you have to lie to me.
0
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
Keeping Your Logic Elusive
Great fades to gray where commonplace turns to decay where the abnormal becomes negatively neurological which leads to the ingestion of government sector sedatives and we wonder why segregation of brain and mind is prominent promises never kept and mind that never gets better but before we fix the broken we must make you broke. Objects in the mirror to fit society's standards E news, TMZ, fox- all the new cancer. Throw your money at it make it go away and watch in awe as the auction of your autonomy accelerates- your mind is money to the highest bidder and they don't budge when they watch your wallet quiver. Quiet in the courtroom- little Kyle's got a drug charge searched his car without consent convict at the age of sixteen which is sickening to see. Kyle was just depressed and needed a little THC the only thing that would help him with social anxiety and now he's facing a charge for not taking the meds marijuana manipulation of the municipals and now little kyle won't be able to go to a good school 18 the record will be swiped clean but the debt of the courtroom creeps into his credit. Society's white lies will tell you you'll be fine debt from the courtroom turn to slanging dope- dealing with depression while dealing in possession pulled over, twice moreover propaganda's progression. They feed us the same lies we go out of our way to buy- news channels, channeling bias views for more views sitting idly by as our lives pass through changing channels as we become the chattel slaves to our own brain waves from the manipulation we love to bow down to this free nation led by puppets- controlled by intimidation tactics. It's just backwards, the backbone of the nation doesn't have one Columbine happened because little Kyle could get a gun, run- repeat until it's done, dictating your discrimination it's fun until everyone has to run away from the shooter. Bangs heard throughout the world talk of how his head was on backwards smoking on these backwoods But he was off the marijuana and on the medicine- FDA approved turned into a bullet to the head. BANG. Sinister structure of society- **** america why did you have to lie to me.
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48
It is a murky unsympathetic night; the air is dense but so brittle. The city’s lights are glaring while the buildings are pellucid. The clubs are radiating with pandemonium most can’t seem to ignore. It’s a Friday night, a chaotic age restricted night. Both predators and prey invade the avenue. Walking through is Jane Doe. Tall slim and slightly inebriated. Attached to her skin are stitched together materials snug, satisfying but fleeting. As she prowls, the materials bind and elevate revealing her dermis. Beyond the noise, she hears phrases towards her, rotating her abdomen as she becomes livid but intimidated. Jane accelerates but the stilettos restrict. As she walks faster so does the brute, until finally their paths collide. Jane meets his cold malicious iris. Before altering directions, his callous filled hands swiftly but suddenly snatched her confidence and depth. Her figure jolts as he infiltrates her physique. Others observed nonchalantly and attentively whispering “she has received the appropriate consequences” based on the apparel draped over her figure.
0
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 7:46 PM UTC
Not Asking For It
"Mom?" I whisper, your bedroom door slowly creaks open Pill bottles still clutter around your nightstand along with Your blue journal with a family photo of us glued to the front page. My mind manipulates me, toys with my vision; hallucinations Your bedroom is now bleak, bitter, a cloud of sadness above it You're favorite blanket is still sprawled out on your perfect bed, untouched and cold. I'm afraid to touch it 'cause it was your favorite thing in this world.. I creep over to your bed, "Mom?" I wait for answer. My fingers touch the softness of your blanket, memories appear like an adrenaline rush and the sadness accelerates. I fling it over myself. It still smells like you. I lay in your bed, wrapped in your fleece blanket, shuddering. "Mom?" I whimper. I remimince the sounds of your soft and loving voice, calming me "My baby girl", "I love you", "I'm sorry". I peek my head out from my bundle of comfort. Reaching for the framed picture on your nightstand Healthy, happy, full of life. Last time I saw you, your eyes were puffy, your face was pale, your voice barely passed as a whisper. Now, I lay here helplessly, A empty bottle of pills inside my bitter cold hands. Mom, please take me home. "Mom?" I call out in the midst of your room. Everything around me fading to black.. "Hey baby girl." She finally answers back.
0
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 2:30 AM UTC
Mom?
I open my eyes to the green valley below, filled with light. I am at the peak of the mountain, I feel a strong, warm updraft under my, now outstretched wings. I feel light and so I jump, Soaring into the sky... Or so I thought... The air suddenly turns harsh and cold... As I fall through. "This can't be happening" I think But I continue to fall. I expect to fly at the last moment, or get caught by someone, or At least wake up... But it doesn't happen. The ground accelerates towards me... and I hit it. I feel everything, Every ounce of pain. I realise then... I have broken my wings... I wake in pain... On the floor in my room, gasping for the breath that falling out of bed has knocked out of me... Dreams... sometimes I'm too scared to fall asleep because of what I may dream of...
0
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Dreams...
I pick this Earthly slide into Summertime, this season to begin, propels forward in all sense of Time, history retrograde, etched in Stone for Centuries, Coded in DNA, programed Circadian bodies, impressions applied geometric thickly glazed coat, generously slathered across my Retinal Screen. Setup complete for me, attuned to Solar frequencies, aligned to cohesive Cosmic driving motion spiraling Syncopation with all partaking rotational bodies, all timers set to synchronous, all ties to everything celebrating their teamwork well done. Activity accelerates, as does the heavy heat, both inseparable, together climbing ****** into sunburnt sweat, steaming, sizzling Sunday barbecue to reflect the Flesh boiling together in sympathetic Celebration of our Seasoned Sun. Longer days accommodate for memories and fun, commemorate the Force of Season, into swing, will soon be swung, centripetal to glaze a different gaze lathered across my retinal screen, reverberate through Atmosphere, redistribute composition, smooth bottlenecking, flowing out yet emptying to take fill of what flows in. No change of Season, nor change of Heart, no redirection ever knows emptiness, no moment leaves a Void unfulfilled. No moment when the smooth Transition stutters to a Stop. The sync is in the constant movement bringing balance in equilibrium by shifting tides, Spinning Stars locking in, programmed by Primal Cause, the Synchronicity in Everything, so Summertime comes, this Time in which we rejoice, knowing it's all been planned, beautifully executed by mechanics of Nature. Trust in understanding a Power much Greater is in Control, we are here simply for the Experience. ...Not to much more, just in attending to the Transitions of Ourselves.
0
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Cohesive Summer
I pick this Earthly slide into Summertime, this season to begin, propels forward in all sense of Time, history retrograde, etched in Stone for Centuries, Coded in DNA, programed Circadian bodies, impressions applied geometric thickly glazed coat, generously slathered across my Retinal Screen. Setup complete for me, attuned to Solar frequencies, aligned to cohesive Cosmic driving motion spiraling Syncopation with all partaking rotational bodies, all timers set to synchronous, all ties to everything celebrating their teamwork well done. Activity accelerates, as does the heavy heat, both inseparable, together climbing ****** into sunburnt sweat, steaming, sizzling Sunday barbecue to reflect the Flesh boiling together in sympathetic Celebration of our Seasoned Sun. Longer days accommodate for memories and fun, commemorate the Force of Season, into swing, will soon be swung, centripetal to glaze a different gaze lathered across my retinal screen, reverberate through Atmosphere, redistribute composition, smooth bottlenecking, flowing out yet emptying to take fill of what flows in. No change of Season, nor change of Heart, no redirection ever knows emptiness, no moment leaves a Void unfulfilled. No moment when the smooth Transition stutters to a Stop. The sync is in the constant movement bringing balance in equilibrium by shifting tides, Spinning Stars locking in, programmed by Primal Cause, the Synchronicity in Everything, so Summertime comes, this Time in which we rejoice, knowing it's all been planned, beautifully executed by mechanics of Nature. Trust in understanding a Power much Greater is in Control, we are here simply for the Experience. ...Not to much more, just in attending to the Transitions of Ourselves.
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8
there's a picture of sunflowers, my favorite by far. one leans apart from the congregation, rests it's head on a wooden fence. a visible sigh in it's face it's posture affects -- and though time accelerates, there is still gold in the lines of my face, some days    the light catches and warmth Ihold in my pockets for days like today, I drizzle it on my tongue. &my; insides are wrapped in dusty glow from eons before I began to wilt
0
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
at the dentist's office
“We’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot announced, “settle in, our flight time to Atlanta will be 9 hours.” The Gulfstream roared down the runway and in a moment the tops of trees flashed by. We climbed quickly, and banked. Paris dwindled, the Seine became a string of blue, the world a patchwork of colors before we punched through a layer of hair-like cirrus clouds. My roommates and friends were all a-chatter as we lined up on the runway but as we ascended, they grew quiet. Thoughts of Peter ran through me and gripped me like a serpent. The last time I saw him he was dressed in a summer outfit I bought him - a short-sleeve, pale-pastel-plaid seersucker shirt, kentucky-derby breaker shorts, pop color flip flops and a straw fedora. His sweet-face was all grin, he looked like a deck gillespie. Meow. When I think about Peter, my skin tickles, my pulse accelerates, I’m confuddled. I think about the disturbance that moved through the air between us when we met. We were strangers, but a magnetic flux seemed to roll off him and break against me. I didn’t let it show. I drew in, looked away and became quiet. What else could I do? Later, when I described it to Sunny, our meeting seemed like nothing. When I described it to Lisa, it sounded like too much. Of course, my choices must be consistent with my ambitions, but I want Peter to come to Athens, so badly. He was a human placebo, for me, in otherwise stressful times. Now I want to be with him without school pressures - to see what that’s like - and get closer, a lot closer. I don’t want commitment, but I’m saturated with desire. All I want is a fun July or August - with him. I seldom reveal the businesslike hardness I have buried inside. I want this and I’m ready for derp. Peter worries - about money, about gender roles, social positions and what’s apposite. I don’t care about any of that. I want to give him a free month, like an amazing gift. He’s so male, so deceptively complicated, fragile and intoxicating. I really need to think about this, and work it out - HA! - like I can think of anything else.
0
Jul 3, 2022
Jul 3, 2022 at 8:58 AM UTC
cleared for takeoff
“We’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot announced, “settle in, our flight time to Atlanta will be 9 hours.” The Gulfstream roared down the runway and in a moment the tops of trees flashed by. We climbed quickly, and banked. Paris dwindled, the Seine became a string of blue, the world a patchwork of colors before we punched through a layer of hair-like cirrus clouds. My roommates and friends were all a-chatter as we lined up on the runway but as we ascended, they grew quiet. Thoughts of Peter ran through me and gripped me like a serpent. The last time I saw him he was dressed in a summer outfit I bought him - a short-sleeve, pale-pastel-plaid seersucker shirt, kentucky-derby breaker shorts, pop color flip flops and a straw fedora. His sweet-face was all grin, he looked like a deck gillespie. Meow. When I think about Peter, my skin tickles, my pulse accelerates, I’m confuddled. I think about the disturbance that moved through the air between us when we met. We were strangers, but a magnetic flux seemed to roll off him and break against me. I didn’t let it show. I drew in, looked away and became quiet. What else could I do? Later, when I described it to Sunny, our meeting seemed like nothing. When I described it to Lisa, it sounded like too much. Of course, my choices must be consistent with my ambitions, but I want Peter to come to Athens, so badly. He was a human placebo, for me, in otherwise stressful times. Now I want to be with him without school pressures - to see what that’s like - and get closer, a lot closer. I don’t want commitment, but I’m saturated with desire. All I want is a fun July or August - with him. I seldom reveal the businesslike hardness I have buried inside. I want this and I’m ready for derp. Peter worries - about money, about gender roles, social positions and what’s apposite. I don’t care about any of that. I want to give him a free month, like an amazing gift. He’s so male, so deceptively complicated, fragile and intoxicating. I really need to think about this, and work it out - HA! - like I can think of anything else.
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10
Laughing mans gotta run. Feels it. Kicks up his spine - It used to only crawl. Shake a little cold from the bones. Never hadda run before. Oh well, Always knew it was coming. Boot to dirt,              to leaf,                  to twig. Came down from Hollywood. Laughing man never shined. Never, not once. Felt it there too. Always feels it. ''God ****      God ****          God damn'', Always. Didn't run from the city of angels. Walked a stint though. Taught a man some spanish for a ride through Arizona. "Knowin a little Mexican can keep your nuts dry'' Laughing man laughs at his own jokes, laughs at everything. Sky is grey and spitting a little bit. How many more steps ol' Laughing man have? Keeps on running. Saw a paper in some town a while back. That first ones face was on the front, Then a bunch of words - how many pieces there were. Laughing man laughs at this. Remembers asking, "Whats it feel like?" Thinks her lovely and tucks that one away. Boot to asphalt,              to mud. Here's a trick - said to tree. "Always put on a face, People like faces." Laughing man Laughs, shivering. Gotta get running. Surely they've found more by now. Two and three were no doubt a mess. Bad memories. Shake 'em, duck 'em. ****         ****               **** Laughing man angers. Gotta get running. Wake up achy muscles. Paula drove to the beach. Never been before - Laughing man thrilled. She laughed almost as much. Shakes a little - cold, hunger, maybe lament? Thought she'd stay around. Ol' Paula fails to make the return trip. Laughing man laughs and accelerates. Shiny new car. No car now. Times done its thing, always does Feet to the grass,                    to the gravel,                               to water. Wretched waters to nurse wounds. Laughing man drinks, awakened - thanks the icy liquid.. Never hadda build a fire before. "Instinct my dear." - Laughing to smoldering tender "Evolution my dear." - Laughing to roasting meat,                                                                          to crimson stained steel. Gotta get running. "She wont turn up but she might" and "Ok, might've left her teeth in the sink." Feels 'em breathing down the neck. Into the lake, water stinging skin. Laughing man paddles. Mindless. Throbbing, heavy breathing. Feet to nothing,                        to thrashing. "Help me out here ya gorgeous ****** Laughing to the moon. Exhale,           inhale,                    float, nose to sky. Calm, gives a shake to number seven. Remembers fourteens eyes. Cold and grey. Looks to the moon.                       Winks back and gives driftwood a chuckle. Laughing man does his thing, then the water does its.
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Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
"Infinite Mortality"
Laughing mans gotta run. Feels it. Kicks up his spine - It used to only crawl. Shake a little cold from the bones. Never hadda run before. Oh well, Always knew it was coming. Boot to dirt,              to leaf,                  to twig. Came down from Hollywood. Laughing man never shined. Never, not once. Felt it there too. Always feels it. ''God ****      God ****          God damn'', Always. Didn't run from the city of angels. Walked a stint though. Taught a man some spanish for a ride through Arizona. "Knowin a little Mexican can keep your nuts dry'' Laughing man laughs at his own jokes, laughs at everything. Sky is grey and spitting a little bit. How many more steps ol' Laughing man have? Keeps on running. Saw a paper in some town a while back. That first ones face was on the front, Then a bunch of words - how many pieces there were. Laughing man laughs at this. Remembers asking, "Whats it feel like?" Thinks her lovely and tucks that one away. Boot to asphalt,              to mud. Here's a trick - said to tree. "Always put on a face, People like faces." Laughing man Laughs, shivering. Gotta get running. Surely they've found more by now. Two and three were no doubt a mess. Bad memories. Shake 'em, duck 'em. ****         ****               **** Laughing man angers. Gotta get running. Wake up achy muscles. Paula drove to the beach. Never been before - Laughing man thrilled. She laughed almost as much. Shakes a little - cold, hunger, maybe lament? Thought she'd stay around. Ol' Paula fails to make the return trip. Laughing man laughs and accelerates. Shiny new car. No car now. Times done its thing, always does Feet to the grass,                    to the gravel,                               to water. Wretched waters to nurse wounds. Laughing man drinks, awakened - thanks the icy liquid.. Never hadda build a fire before. "Instinct my dear." - Laughing to smoldering tender "Evolution my dear." - Laughing to roasting meat,                                                                          to crimson stained steel. Gotta get running. "She wont turn up but she might" and "Ok, might've left her teeth in the sink." Feels 'em breathing down the neck. Into the lake, water stinging skin. Laughing man paddles. Mindless. Throbbing, heavy breathing. Feet to nothing,                        to thrashing. "Help me out here ya gorgeous ****** Laughing to the moon. Exhale,           inhale,                    float, nose to sky. Calm, gives a shake to number seven. Remembers fourteens eyes. Cold and grey. Looks to the moon.                       Winks back and gives driftwood a chuckle. Laughing man does his thing, then the water does its.
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