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"adaptable" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
0
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
generation Z
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
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39
He's broken, he's in pieces, he's trapped, in a black hole He's crying, he's heartbroken, he's dying of loneliness He's confused, his mind is overloaded, his todger is dropping off He's this and that and that and this projecting your ******* fears and insecurities on him Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha You know what....He's NOT....he's laughing at you He's happy that you now realize there are still men out there who transcend your ******* stereotyping and imbecilic assumptions . He's still laughing because he now sees for ******* real how immature and mentally underdeveloped a lot of you are and how so petty, mediocre and easy to manipulate you are Not to mention how weak, spineless and unable to handle pressure so many of you are. He laughing because you just act without fully thinking You are a shallow lot, cowardly, infantile and narrow minded You lack sound reasoning capacity and a lot of you are neurotic He's laughing because most believe anything they are told Unquestioning drones like a Labrador thrown a stick Go fetch, off he runs, retrieve stick, pat on the head, good boy Just simple minded followers. He laughing because he's attained all he wanted Got a good education, good self understanding, good morality sensitivity, compassion, empathy, confidence and honesty A well drilled man, adaptable, flexible, courageous and brave A MODERN DAY SPARTAN. He's laughing because you can't ******* take that away He's laughing because he's shown you how a proper man is He's laughing because he's invalidated your stereotypical assumptions, your prejudices, your bigotry and your ignorance He's laughing because you have confirmed your inferiority exposed your fears and inadequacies and make others see how damaged and vindictive you are He's laughing because out of all only one woman has shown magnanimity and she didn't belong to the class of the mediocres Which proves the point that mediocrity goes hand in hand with ignorance, fear and lack of Dignity and Integrity. And he's laughing because he's got chutzpah a big package and a hell of "tener cojones" hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha [email protected] Sept 2018,Allrightsreserved.
0
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
Broken Tungsten Space Traveller.....
He's broken, he's in pieces, he's trapped, in a black hole He's crying, he's heartbroken, he's dying of loneliness He's confused, his mind is overloaded, his todger is dropping off He's this and that and that and this projecting your ******* fears and insecurities on him Hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha You know what....He's NOT....he's laughing at you He's happy that you now realize there are still men out there who transcend your ******* stereotyping and imbecilic assumptions . He's still laughing because he now sees for ******* real how immature and mentally underdeveloped a lot of you are and how so petty, mediocre and easy to manipulate you are Not to mention how weak, spineless and unable to handle pressure so many of you are. He laughing because you just act without fully thinking You are a shallow lot, cowardly, infantile and narrow minded You lack sound reasoning capacity and a lot of you are neurotic He's laughing because most believe anything they are told Unquestioning drones like a Labrador thrown a stick Go fetch, off he runs, retrieve stick, pat on the head, good boy Just simple minded followers. He laughing because he's attained all he wanted Got a good education, good self understanding, good morality sensitivity, compassion, empathy, confidence and honesty A well drilled man, adaptable, flexible, courageous and brave A MODERN DAY SPARTAN. He's laughing because you can't ******* take that away He's laughing because he's shown you how a proper man is He's laughing because he's invalidated your stereotypical assumptions, your prejudices, your bigotry and your ignorance He's laughing because you have confirmed your inferiority exposed your fears and inadequacies and make others see how damaged and vindictive you are He's laughing because out of all only one woman has shown magnanimity and she didn't belong to the class of the mediocres Which proves the point that mediocrity goes hand in hand with ignorance, fear and lack of Dignity and Integrity. And he's laughing because he's got chutzpah a big package and a hell of "tener cojones" hahaha...hahaha...hahaha...hahaha [email protected] Sept 2018,Allrightsreserved.
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42
Love is a rare and dangerous creature That only shows face when the time is right now Lust is a complimentary feature Which keeps lovers guessing til both settle down Not to say everyone settles for less Love doesn't lie, but it leaves room for choice Those who are willing to give it their best Keep Lust in its place and let Love be the voice Love is adaptable, constantly changing It morphs and it breathes like a woman or man Lust is impassible, always deranging It puts up a wall and masks what it can Nobody knows what happens to Love When distance requires the mind to have faith And stare at the images Lust conjures up Alluding ideas of mistrust and distaste Isn't it better to let Love be free? To keep it confined would just let it die Allowing the chains for which Lust has the key To govern the feelings of comfort and pride Be free, my love, to run through the brush But always remember where you were at peace And hurry on back when you've had enough For I may not be here when your venture has ceased
0
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
Love VS Lust
together we are a velvet dress comfortable, warm, high-quality material knee-length, not too fancy rich, earthy-green in colour one strap, a bit quirky? accentuates the thin waist smoothly caresses the full hip effortlessly **** soft and flirtatious not a casual piece, although it is adaptable the dress hangs heavily on your shoulders and is strapped to your soul never collecting dust sometimes worn around the house on a free evening, just for you wear me here, wear me there wear me everywhere, the velvet dress cries but of course this cannot be done opt for the denim today, the workwear tomorrow life says it must be so let's save ourselves for the serendipitous occasion knowing that this is the greatest part of our beauty and charm
0
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
Velvet dress
For the lonely, for the loveless, for the forgotten and overlooked, for the discarded and trodden on, for the neglected, for the ignored and mocked, for societies weeds, for circumstantial weeds. For you outcasts are weeds the flowers nobody wants, but weeds are resilient. They persevere where others can not. Often mistaken for weak, but no, weeds are strong and tough enough to break through tonnes of concrete and metal. Clever enough to find growth in places others perish in. Adaptable to every habitat and brave enough to exist on barren wasteland. Weeds need only the tiniest of a chance to flourish For the unwanted, for the unclaimed. You are beautiful. You are equal to every other flower. You are the Charlock, the Buttercup, the Clover, the Pinapple-May-Weed and so much more. Next time you see a **** by the roadside, or peeking out from a crack in a wall, or between paving slabs in a busy city, or overgrown in a garden, or weaving through rubble and debris, take heart lonely ones. You are not worthless You are magnificent.
0
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Charlock, buttercups, clovers and more
We are never free of our Demons We learn to ignore them We learn to drown them out We learn to live with them Or we get drowned by them And don't live at all Our Demons only want one thing They want to see you squirm They want to see you give up They want to see you fail But you must not There comes a time you must face them When you face them It seems like you against an army It seems like you against the world It seems like you against yourself Because you are fighting yourself You are your own fiercest Arch-Demon After you accept this You can finally conquer yourself You can finally conquer the Demons that come from without You can finally conquer even the world itself And make it tremble Before your awesome might But be forewarned These Demons are powerful These Demons are smart These Demons are adaptable They are all of these things Because you are all of these things
0
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Conquering Your Demons
can you tell me how you feel because I don't know can you tell me how to empathise because in me it doesn't show I am trying to bridge a gap that seems to never be filled people say your agsagerating and if you want to change it's in your will but I can't change the way god put me together the storms never go away it's just ment to be wethered I am trying to be adaptable to  societies demands but I am only one man autism is stitched together like a quilt there are many shapes and sizes and can't seemed to be mended and are anger turns to guilt we are few and some of us cry out to be understood and some of us can't but wish we could theres no answers to the mystery of the disease  all I ask is that you listen so you can see
0
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
aware a poem about aspergers/autism awareness
in my head you're on a pedestal not even real celestial like a statue carved by artist you make me feel less heartless but i've hardly gotten to know you i don't want it to be true because what happens next? it's like another vortex like to keep it casual trying to be adaptable but your good looks are intimidating what could i be implicating?
0
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
unfinished
Be = Do = Have: I am Chant!!! I am committed to being all the finest parts of me!!! I am beautiful, unique, and astonishing! I am loved, loving, and treasured! I am empathetic, emotional, and kindhearted! I am brave, courageous, and adventurous! I am intelligent, adaptable, and organized! I am well-built with my self-control, self-discipline, and drive! I am inspirational, significant, and exceptional! I am passionate, persistent, and precious! I am energetic, motivated, and relentless! I am a remarkable wife, mother, and companion! I am an extraordinary human being!
0
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
I am Chant
Self, centered, watching the world burn. This calm is maintained by expelling air in between each blink. Glass is far in sight, glasses cracked and not foreseen, because I'm not a seer. Blanketed in ignorance, wrapped: up tight. Shelf this selfishness, I'm told. So I consider this advice. Rearranging the paperbacks. Misplacing the first editions. All the math in the world; variables do not ease understanding of long division. So I'm left not right, have never been alright, and that is why being centered is crucial for survival. That is why becoming adaptable isn't laughable while watching the world burn. It's having a cold disposition to withstand the heat.
0
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
Capturing Disillusion
I am not in love, I tell myself. Faint words do not reverberate, however, I know that I am very good at fooling myself. I should feel the vibration, or so they say. I am not in love. Scribbled words running off loose leaf. Words left in the margins, underneath the dotted line. No Strings Attached Or so they say. I am not in love. My hand on the small of your back. The taste of cold. Wind blows headlines down the sidewalk. Adjusting coats and gloves. Skin remained covered, to prevent frostbite, or so they say. How much prose can relinquish this fire, this intensity, which coincides with disillusion? When does an act of grace become an act of convenience? I am not in love. *Every once in awhile you find yourself at a crossroad, or you feel like you've reached a dead end. Life is hard to handle sometimes, and so are the relationships we hold. It's very confusing. Especially when it is between two people of the opposite *** The easiest way to explain this, is that it is not easy for most people to let themselves be vulnerable. We all face so many hurdles in life, trying to attain this goal that is (sometimes) unattainable. Not all of our dreams will come true. But that doesn't mean we should lose sight or become discouraged.* Or so they say. That is why we are human. We are willing to make these decisions and prepare to accept the consequences in doing so. We don't allow ourselves to take breaks, simply because life does not stop. We push forward. We strive. Although, sometimes life catches up to us. We become irritable. We become confused. We become tired. My life: far too much scrutiny. In the end, I put too much thought into something that changes my perspective. Usually a distorted one. That is why shutting down in a neurotic state is accepted. A cool down period, when all the while we know another meltdown is around the corner. I am not in love. Ideally, words should have the same encompassing power. But seeing as how I can not determine what works well for me, I have conditioned myself to being adaptable. No rhyme or reason, will ease the pain that seems to follow your name. And that is why I repeat faint words. I am not in love. She never was.
0
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
I Am Not in Love
I am not in love, I tell myself. Faint words do not reverberate, however, I know that I am very good at fooling myself. I should feel the vibration, or so they say. I am not in love. Scribbled words running off loose leaf. Words left in the margins, underneath the dotted line. No Strings Attached Or so they say. I am not in love. My hand on the small of your back. The taste of cold. Wind blows headlines down the sidewalk. Adjusting coats and gloves. Skin remained covered, to prevent frostbite, or so they say. How much prose can relinquish this fire, this intensity, which coincides with disillusion? When does an act of grace become an act of convenience? I am not in love. *Every once in awhile you find yourself at a crossroad, or you feel like you've reached a dead end. Life is hard to handle sometimes, and so are the relationships we hold. It's very confusing. Especially when it is between two people of the opposite *** The easiest way to explain this, is that it is not easy for most people to let themselves be vulnerable. We all face so many hurdles in life, trying to attain this goal that is (sometimes) unattainable. Not all of our dreams will come true. But that doesn't mean we should lose sight or become discouraged.* Or so they say. That is why we are human. We are willing to make these decisions and prepare to accept the consequences in doing so. We don't allow ourselves to take breaks, simply because life does not stop. We push forward. We strive. Although, sometimes life catches up to us. We become irritable. We become confused. We become tired. My life: far too much scrutiny. In the end, I put too much thought into something that changes my perspective. Usually a distorted one. That is why shutting down in a neurotic state is accepted. A cool down period, when all the while we know another meltdown is around the corner. I am not in love. Ideally, words should have the same encompassing power. But seeing as how I can not determine what works well for me, I have conditioned myself to being adaptable. No rhyme or reason, will ease the pain that seems to follow your name. And that is why I repeat faint words. I am not in love. She never was.
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74
I believe I met the devil And he tried to **** me No horns did he have In fact on the contrary He was fine And even better he was mine Or so I thought Cause love grew even after Years of waiting and all the debating Of whether or not I should let him partake of the goodies He seemed to have waited And after all the begging I gave in and became engulfed **** I became a fiend for lied in between It was like a dream and I readily shared myself And shared all I had cause he was my man Or so I believed Even through years of tears And extreme paranoia I couldn't break free There was such an overwhelming presence That had a hold on me The devil, a chameleon Whose colors change as the wind blows Creative liar and deceptive Adaptable to playing games Cause he learned how to be a Master magician to survive Enter I who had the nerve to believe Simply because I conceived Leopards would lose stripes and choose me Depressed and stressed And so disillusioned But under a hypnotic spell Trapped in a living hell of mental torment A sick parody Cause the reality is I'd never let someone run over me Intentionally How could this be Better yet, where's the real me Lost and confused Chest compressed **** how can I be blessed Awakened by visions of years of bad decisions Made my heart stricken as I pant for breath Cause images of famine and death Was much more than I could fathom Life passing me by became my anthem The subtle whispers of despair was introduced to me And seduced me effortlessly Caught in a web of drama and demise Soul so vexed look in my eyes Yet steadily believing I was a prize And to my surprise I was just entangled in the web With many other victims I began to pray and ask God To get me away Free me from hexes and magical powers That apparently had overpowered me He reached in and saved me And separated me and gave me Fresh wind, better visions And a new friend He gave me provision and I made a decision to stay free And truly do what's best for me And finally I can breathe without toxic air Depression, grief or hopeless despair I look back and realize I met the devil And he tried to **** me and **** my dreams But God is so merciful By him I'm redeemed
0
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
I Met the Devil
I believe I met the devil And he tried to **** me No horns did he have In fact on the contrary He was fine And even better he was mine Or so I thought Cause love grew even after Years of waiting and all the debating Of whether or not I should let him partake of the goodies He seemed to have waited And after all the begging I gave in and became engulfed **** I became a fiend for lied in between It was like a dream and I readily shared myself And shared all I had cause he was my man Or so I believed Even through years of tears And extreme paranoia I couldn't break free There was such an overwhelming presence That had a hold on me The devil, a chameleon Whose colors change as the wind blows Creative liar and deceptive Adaptable to playing games Cause he learned how to be a Master magician to survive Enter I who had the nerve to believe Simply because I conceived Leopards would lose stripes and choose me Depressed and stressed And so disillusioned But under a hypnotic spell Trapped in a living hell of mental torment A sick parody Cause the reality is I'd never let someone run over me Intentionally How could this be Better yet, where's the real me Lost and confused Chest compressed **** how can I be blessed Awakened by visions of years of bad decisions Made my heart stricken as I pant for breath Cause images of famine and death Was much more than I could fathom Life passing me by became my anthem The subtle whispers of despair was introduced to me And seduced me effortlessly Caught in a web of drama and demise Soul so vexed look in my eyes Yet steadily believing I was a prize And to my surprise I was just entangled in the web With many other victims I began to pray and ask God To get me away Free me from hexes and magical powers That apparently had overpowered me He reached in and saved me And separated me and gave me Fresh wind, better visions And a new friend He gave me provision and I made a decision to stay free And truly do what's best for me And finally I can breathe without toxic air Depression, grief or hopeless despair I look back and realize I met the devil And he tried to **** me and **** my dreams But God is so merciful By him I'm redeemed
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72
The speed of thoughts traveling along life’s treacherous curves trying to contemplate the next course of action images flashing, to enter then leave the peripheral only for moment, a second in endless time no longer complacent in the innocence of bystanders The conviction of minds set upon a road without a path to return refusing to yield to the simplest of distractions focus uncanny, to overcome then master all obstacles thus bringing to bear a force in self-control limitless in power, endurance, and perseverance The energy of souls self-perpetuating the fuel for sustenance striking the balance of the yin and the yang never tiring, to thrive on then learn from weaknesses like running water, able to mold to any environment adaptable no matter the mitigating circumstances The reason of words inundating the psychic to ponder meaning in the comprehension of the poet’s viewpoint endeavor not, instead seek significance inside for the gear remains in neutral, waiting on the shift license not required, just the courage to drive.
0
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
Full Throttle
We are happiness we are pain We are the sunshine and the rain We are here to remove the stain Of the elite Complete The ideal defeat Without violence without harm Let's do it with love let's do it with charm We have to get the people to listen We have to show them what is bliss and How to achieve it How to receive it How to believe it And pass it on In poems, in speech, in art, in song We are given these gifts To cause a rift In reality So people can see That they're living a lie That they're willing to die There's a more beautiful way There's something powerful to say We have to show them how to make it stay So we don't have to learn this lesson again That we are God, the universe and it's beneath our skin We hold the answers and the truth; We have to be brave we have to be loud But be as gentle and adaptable as a cloud We can't fly away Until we teach people the way We're here to ascend Whether it's by ourselves or with a friend It's written in the stars and only some can read it We bring it to earth and then we seed it Plant it in the ground and make it grow Have it show Everyone what they need to know
0
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
Indigo Poem Of Transcendence
Glide till the end of time Break away from the illusion Experience a smooth ride With the harmonious waves Big sea of nothingness Plunge deeper and swim alone Experience the tides of change Away from where you have been Now you are free of everything Float in the vast sea of oneness Soul is fluid and adaptable to truth Free flow of energy through eternity You are nothingness and everything
0
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC
At the End of Time
My roots aren't here They never were I planted some crops But they were imported An ideal situation this land may be To the adaptable, changing and innovative breeds It is habitable to the natives and hybrids that are able to flourish But me, my roots come from a different tree They belong somewhere else They always have I can survive in new elements But only with proper care and chemicals The artificial adaptations eventually take their wear And usually from the inside out Without the natural nourishment I whither So as thankful as I am for a land that harvested growth It is essential to my survival that I find my proper home
0
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
A Proper Setting
Though first, I evolved according to plan Little enabled me outlive this predator With few permanent armor plates, strong Muscles capable of crushing Anything, bones extremely tough, These serious injuries go beyond My cold-bloodedness. I like my environment, have developed Behaviors to control it, to save energy That can be put to other use An evolved entirety of reason Is why I can go for over a year In extreme shutdown My own tissue will feed On anything it can overpower Extraordinarily adaptable During difficult times, I will scavenge for everything, Digest nothing left behind My social interactions are complicated I primarily lead a solitary life, don’t recognize Vocalization, postures, signals, touch My brain more complex than that of any other A powerful sense of perception The ability to learn, to avoid situations That modify me structurally Adaptations have allowed me to thrive But surviving human encroachment May be my biggest challenge Through habitat enhancement I may be able to ensure these Sophisticated survival skills For years to come
0
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Survival Episode
people operate under the wild belief that survivors are strong by nature strong is a weak word adaptable is better The meek shall inherit the earth the strong will die trying to save it Me? I’m a survivor an actor master of disguise playing the part of a self-righteous anti-hero but when the bombs start falling you aren’t coming in my bomb shelter hell no and when the mobs are chasing us I’m tripping you for a few more precious seconds too stubborn to die quite yet but don’t worry when the dust has settled and the cults have left their caves to repopulate this rock I’ll tell the story of your heroic sacrifice
0
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
Survivors
'Pets and Palates' he had only two real loves ducks and waffles this was highly disconcerting to his parents who tried to distance their boy from these strange affectations by buying him a precious pet goose named Berchunice and putting him on a steady diet of pancakes and their various international counterparts needless to say he didn't live to a great age as a matter of fact he died at twenty-two and a smidge because while pets generally extend and enrich life caring for a goose you despise and dining on starchy carbs seriously inhibits life expectancy his passing was terribly unfortunate as was the life his parents had forced upon him if they hadn't forced these changes on him had they merely accepted perhaps encouraged even this love of ducks and waffles their lovely lad would have efficiently and economically solved global warming in an effort to protect the best interest of his friends the ducks and in his downtime he would have put a major dent in the world hunger problem with a highly adaptable waffle recipe too bad.
0
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
Internet Fairytales II
i am your newest latest most adaptable most conforming but least controlling ****** god termites ate half of my attic as if to prove that this is not my house
0
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
untitled 37
It was raining. On this damp May evening, my mother turned to my sister and asked her to refrain from speaking to me. Pensive is the word she used. My sister heard the word "pencil" and thought I was sick with lead poisoning. I remember her checking the room for different writing utensils, she was looking to hide them as you do the knives when the depressed family member comes for a visit. Such a sweet girl to take the graphite and leave the eraser. I'm sure it was a subconscious gesture, or made with complete disregard, but nevertheless I was smiling. The first time I fell in love, I was standing up straight, head over heels. A web browser was open before me, asking the difference between love and anxiety. Later did I come to find that the former and latter are more similar than most know or care to know. One night while looking at her lips and glancing at her eyes, she told me I was adaptable. That was the first time I questioned love for lust. My grandfather started crying. His hands, those of a carpenter, were holding his face. There I sat across from him, hairs on my neck standing, praying for him to speak first. He always spoke first. He would also tell me to stop him if I've heard the story he was going to tell, although I never did. But the story happening before me was one I wanted to stop but couldn't. Never have I seen this man cry, and that would be the only time I ever would. Two years later he had passed on peacefully. By then it was my turn to cry. Some remember the words they've spoken. Others the words they've heard. But I can recall all of the times I've sat in silence. The moments and memories I hold in the company of the ones I love or have had love for are some of the more quiet times in my life. The only quiet which can rival that told above are the times that I've spent putting word to paper. And those are the quiet times I can't remember offhand, but I can always revist. Those quiet times are kept in the walnut filing cabinet. Right beside the photograph of the cabinet maker.
0
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
The Scent of Wood and Paper
It was raining. On this damp May evening, my mother turned to my sister and asked her to refrain from speaking to me. Pensive is the word she used. My sister heard the word "pencil" and thought I was sick with lead poisoning. I remember her checking the room for different writing utensils, she was looking to hide them as you do the knives when the depressed family member comes for a visit. Such a sweet girl to take the graphite and leave the eraser. I'm sure it was a subconscious gesture, or made with complete disregard, but nevertheless I was smiling. The first time I fell in love, I was standing up straight, head over heels. A web browser was open before me, asking the difference between love and anxiety. Later did I come to find that the former and latter are more similar than most know or care to know. One night while looking at her lips and glancing at her eyes, she told me I was adaptable. That was the first time I questioned love for lust. My grandfather started crying. His hands, those of a carpenter, were holding his face. There I sat across from him, hairs on my neck standing, praying for him to speak first. He always spoke first. He would also tell me to stop him if I've heard the story he was going to tell, although I never did. But the story happening before me was one I wanted to stop but couldn't. Never have I seen this man cry, and that would be the only time I ever would. Two years later he had passed on peacefully. By then it was my turn to cry. Some remember the words they've spoken. Others the words they've heard. But I can recall all of the times I've sat in silence. The moments and memories I hold in the company of the ones I love or have had love for are some of the more quiet times in my life. The only quiet which can rival that told above are the times that I've spent putting word to paper. And those are the quiet times I can't remember offhand, but I can always revist. Those quiet times are kept in the walnut filing cabinet. Right beside the photograph of the cabinet maker.
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I'll be in the woods, but you won't need me. When I find the wood guarded by scarcity I too will steal, yet I will only take the milk that has already been liberated. Los Angeles: The air available here is no longer adaptable, my lungs have not evolved like the rest and my filter is getting full, it’s getting complicated to breathe. The chemicals are no longer reacting like they are supposed to. I used up all the gas, the batteries too. I try to wind-up, pull the string, re-charge. These sources no longer work, I need something new. The wiring seems off, the lights sometimes flicker, rarely staying bright for long. I tried replacing the crank, yet there was not enough electricity to put it into rotation. I called for a tow-truck but it never showed, I pumped up my tires and pushed but I still could not roll. I opened the door, starting my journey to the woods…which I hope still exist.
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
I'll be in the woods...
Beside a full size bed, full of destiny and dream, a corpse dressed up to fit among the living, softly sleeps. Carving sAl(i)vAtiOn in black marker on the walls, recounting upset memories, I stick the landing. I didn't plan to stay In this depressive state, but I'm fully equipped. Adaptable to necessity, without trying to fit. I may be sad, reclusive, virulent at my worst -- When will you come to terms with this curse? When will you learn it's best you be who you need? When will you fall in love with this curse? When will you learn, there's plenty room for the misfit?
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Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
She Died Accommodating