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"adherent" poems
You Sir, Are An Electrician! **technocrat — noun a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.** This city boy was expert at Turning the lights on, Unlocking the front door, Putting new batteries in flashlights, And calling the handyman to "Please come upstairs" When the degree of diving difficulty was a Positive number. Also, Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR, Triggering alarms, Killing car batteries, Making laptops question Human sanity, Tearing up when reading, "Some Assembly Required!" Raised in a city of experts, He was unskilled in things electric, Becoming apoplectic, When a device had an On/off switch that ignored him. Somewhat famous he was, For engaging the inanimate, In a verbal dialectic, Which included words highly phonetic, But unsuitable for children's ears. She was raised in rural pastures, Corn fields used for hide n' go seek, Riding goats after school Just for fun, Familiar with innards of Deus ex machina, a/k/a Minor engine repairs, and Doing what he called, Making reparations. IOS7, heaven. Cabling laptop to external devices, Icing on the cake, Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker, Did not require calling an 800 number. She never read an instruction sheet Without pleasurable laughing at Japanese English. He was unashamed of his skilled Unskilled characteristics, For such is the way of the world In the human kingdom, Some of us two handed, some of us, bi-standers. But upon occasion, He would bemoan his fate, Decry his inability to survive On a post-apocalyptic Earth, Like the people on tv and movies. Periodically he would grow morose, Listless, at his inability to adapt to a Point Oh world. Uncomprehending Icons and symbols whose meaning Were wholly unintuitive, He secretly ashamed of his need for technological ****** She would sense his frustration, Wipe away his inner condensation, Climbing into his lap, Whispering the following: **You sir, are an electrician of words, a verbal technocrat,** Plumber of the depths where Few fear to tread, explorer of the head, Restorer of human paintings unmatched, Without your ilk, this world would be unbearable, Your heart's warming silk Comforts bodies and souls, Speaking from experience personal. Then, she flicked his On/Off switch, On.
0
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
You Sir, Are An Electrician! **technocrat — noun a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.** This city boy was expert at Turning the lights on, Unlocking the front door, Putting new batteries in flashlights, And calling the handyman to "Please come upstairs" When the degree of diving difficulty was a Positive number. Also, Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR, Triggering alarms, Killing car batteries, Making laptops question Human sanity, Tearing up when reading, "Some Assembly Required!" Raised in a city of experts, He was unskilled in things electric, Becoming apoplectic, When a device had an On/off switch that ignored him. Somewhat famous he was, For engaging the inanimate, In a verbal dialectic, Which included words highly phonetic, But unsuitable for children's ears. She was raised in rural pastures, Corn fields used for hide n' go seek, Riding goats after school Just for fun, Familiar with innards of Deus ex machina, a/k/a Minor engine repairs, and Doing what he called, Making reparations. IOS7, heaven. Cabling laptop to external devices, Icing on the cake, Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker, Did not require calling an 800 number. She never read an instruction sheet Without pleasurable laughing at Japanese English. He was unashamed of his skilled Unskilled characteristics, For such is the way of the world In the human kingdom, Some of us two handed, some of us, bi-standers. But upon occasion, He would bemoan his fate, Decry his inability to survive On a post-apocalyptic Earth, Like the people on tv and movies. Periodically he would grow morose, Listless, at his inability to adapt to a Point Oh world. Uncomprehending Icons and symbols whose meaning Were wholly unintuitive, He secretly ashamed of his need for technological ****** She would sense his frustration, Wipe away his inner condensation, Climbing into his lap, Whispering the following: **You sir, are an electrician of words, a verbal technocrat,** Plumber of the depths where Few fear to tread, explorer of the head, Restorer of human paintings unmatched, Without your ilk, this world would be unbearable, Your heart's warming silk Comforts bodies and souls, Speaking from experience personal. Then, she flicked his On/Off switch, On.
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83
On my way to work, Whenever I pass through The Holy Trinity church, After a brief prayer, The tombstone of a martyr My eyes never fail to search As his eulogies sensitive cords Are sure to touch! I admire The tombstone’s design A flickering torch, Whose tongue Is the  martyr ’s statue, That talks loud his virtue! “Holy Trinity Till I crossed the river of death Allegedly, striped of my health, Poisoned by evil doers, Who hanker By unfair means To amass wealth, I had been A public servant Adherent to my faith! ” “Holy Trinity To abide by Your commandment- Don’t steal- Was my desire Also to pull out   millions From poverty’s quagmire. Across the board development Working better than one's best Efficient resource utilization Also drew my attention! " “Holy Trinity A generation To corruption averse Is all-out The bad scenario In my country To reverse.   A generation  for A developmental ****** That has lust. I have come to understand The coming up of Many a lass and lad, Whose rights that  demand I need no more reward, When in front of you This way I stand Justice to demand! ” Children of Oromia, Ethiopia’s elephantine branch, You have to detach Your state, your country From the impudent And the corrupt That still exercise The outmoded Colonizers’ Divide and rule As a fool . A corruption fighter Development’s workforce Is also a hero Like Ethiopia’s Valorous and dear sons Balcha Abanefso Geresu Duke,Abdisa Aga And Jagama Kelo. Children of Oromia Giving to divisive guys A deaf ear, You should hold your Country Ethiopia, A cradle of mankind And civilization, dear Do not forget Adding up Is the current road map Evil doers Killing a hero Could not bring The change drive To zero. As a poet what I can say “Evil doers Stop to opt for Devilish way! But if you Keeping going astray You will go To the grave in Ignominious way!”//
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
A martyr’s eulogy
On my way to work, Whenever I pass through The Holy Trinity church, After a brief prayer, The tombstone of a martyr My eyes never fail to search As his eulogies sensitive cords Are sure to touch! I admire The tombstone’s design A flickering torch, Whose tongue Is the  martyr ’s statue, That talks loud his virtue! “Holy Trinity Till I crossed the river of death Allegedly, striped of my health, Poisoned by evil doers, Who hanker By unfair means To amass wealth, I had been A public servant Adherent to my faith! ” “Holy Trinity To abide by Your commandment- Don’t steal- Was my desire Also to pull out   millions From poverty’s quagmire. Across the board development Working better than one's best Efficient resource utilization Also drew my attention! " “Holy Trinity A generation To corruption averse Is all-out The bad scenario In my country To reverse.   A generation  for A developmental ****** That has lust. I have come to understand The coming up of Many a lass and lad, Whose rights that  demand I need no more reward, When in front of you This way I stand Justice to demand! ” Children of Oromia, Ethiopia’s elephantine branch, You have to detach Your state, your country From the impudent And the corrupt That still exercise The outmoded Colonizers’ Divide and rule As a fool . A corruption fighter Development’s workforce Is also a hero Like Ethiopia’s Valorous and dear sons Balcha Abanefso Geresu Duke,Abdisa Aga And Jagama Kelo. Children of Oromia Giving to divisive guys A deaf ear, You should hold your Country Ethiopia, A cradle of mankind And civilization, dear Do not forget Adding up Is the current road map Evil doers Killing a hero Could not bring The change drive To zero. As a poet what I can say “Evil doers Stop to opt for Devilish way! But if you Keeping going astray You will go To the grave in Ignominious way!”//
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96
My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved. Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.
0
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
- THE MARQUIS DE SADE, IN A LETTER TO HIS WIFE
My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved. Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.
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2
reverence in poetry.                             everything to every person. reader claims they can                         a necessary skill for uncover the reverence.                         successful hypothecating and in the scripts that                       (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing, life straight hands me,                          tell them what thy want to hear, for collection & correction,           and they’ll call you laureate,                       secretarial transcribing,                        instead of good listener binding, typo correction                       or just a keen observer-fakir mundane are the tasks,                          just take what they give ya, that’s all them muses ask,                     dress it like Joseph in a don’t interfere, taken what’s given,     coat of many colors, bow, curtsy, show respect,                     don’t let on your plagiarism treat its aspects/instincts correctly       is all them, redressed legally you’re just the pass through agent,   true you, gotta be smart about it, patient for no payment expected,    variant spellings, swinging verbs, be our adherent, not our truant,      be discreet, they’ll call your script we appoint don’t disappoint,          a real keeper and give love or sun, accept our patent, render legit        mucho poem emojis accoladeya as for this reverence thinge        devil in a blue dress, walk the streets if I do my job ok, on any day,     grabbing snatches of overhearings, any poem could save a life,        pressed into a single tunic, you think, if I get the commas placed,         he a genius, knows my thinking, just right, the periods period,     exactly,  what a great poet and while obeying the speed limit    con/hu-man par excellent them muses so **** pleased     even fool muses, too full themselves, by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and and self deprecation,                     couldn’t do it without them they call me reverend,                   great pretenders by stealing imagine them silly folk,                everything in everybody and calling a big fat liar.                       all thieves and cape riders, reverend, duh, the end                 original liars, pants on fire before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
reverence in poetry. (2) everything in every person.
reverence in poetry.                             everything to every person. reader claims they can                         a necessary skill for uncover the reverence.                         successful hypothecating and in the scripts that                       (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing, life straight hands me,                          tell them what thy want to hear, for collection & correction,           and they’ll call you laureate,                       secretarial transcribing,                        instead of good listener binding, typo correction                       or just a keen observer-fakir mundane are the tasks,                          just take what they give ya, that’s all them muses ask,                     dress it like Joseph in a don’t interfere, taken what’s given,     coat of many colors, bow, curtsy, show respect,                     don’t let on your plagiarism treat its aspects/instincts correctly       is all them, redressed legally you’re just the pass through agent,   true you, gotta be smart about it, patient for no payment expected,    variant spellings, swinging verbs, be our adherent, not our truant,      be discreet, they’ll call your script we appoint don’t disappoint,          a real keeper and give love or sun, accept our patent, render legit        mucho poem emojis accoladeya as for this reverence thinge        devil in a blue dress, walk the streets if I do my job ok, on any day,     grabbing snatches of overhearings, any poem could save a life,        pressed into a single tunic, you think, if I get the commas placed,         he a genius, knows my thinking, just right, the periods period,     exactly,  what a great poet and while obeying the speed limit    con/hu-man par excellent them muses so **** pleased     even fool muses, too full themselves, by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and and self deprecation,                     couldn’t do it without them they call me reverend,                   great pretenders by stealing imagine them silly folk,                everything in everybody and calling a big fat liar.                       all thieves and cape riders, reverend, duh, the end                 original liars, pants on fire before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
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33
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart. a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission. he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking. his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back. any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled. he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts. his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
0
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
the current state of handwriting in Baltimore, OH
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart. a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission. he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking. his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back. any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled. he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts. his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
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7
a malignant cancer grows inside this test tube today in longing abundance escaping with our humanity equally adherent to this cause of death in ***** where theater diametrically opposed will cherish it again with leprosy approx sort of this vacation that's well in remission with heredity again. .
0
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 8:21 AM UTC
Allentown
Maybe i am not so perfect But i know how to reflect Maybe i represent a faded picture But my life is such a great mixture Maybe i lie and die everyday But my smile never departs for a day Maybe i have alot of tough dares But with them i have people to care Maybe i am not in a perfect mood But i have a situation to tackle and crude Maybe life is full of lost games But it also sometimes provide us fame Maybe life is sometimes abhorrent. But its wonderful if we are adherent...! --A.A.
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Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
IRONICAL VERSION
Even in mine sickness im never to leaveth; When this breath exit's mine lung's, and i do not overcometh, the grave that swalloweth me. When these eye's reacheth to the sky and thus mine heart seemeth to fail; I wilt be waiting for thee by the Luzon bay, in celestial white detail. In these darkly hour's I canst sense heaven and hell; though I am never to leaveth thee mine Jane, for we were long ago ordained, for the eternity of ourn holy grail. I shalt forever be an adherent, next to thy seraphim shoulder's; Even in mine dying, I wilt ameliorate thy crying, as ourn amour' will forever be warm, even in mine death whilst mine skin goeth colder. O' I am never to leaveth thou: Mine soulmate jane, in life and death we shalt be, forever to loveth. O' forever I wilt loveth thee.
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Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
Never to leave
At first I was a lover, adherent adorer of the ultimate father figure to whom I sublimated all that I was. Then when faced with the pain of existence I became a questioner of the almighty. In studying the sorrows of history, I saw the stain of human tragedy perpetuated on the forms that people hated, how they mutilated men, women, and children. Then I became an accuser judging the behavior or lack there of of this omnipotent being. Till, I saw the truth and the abstraction shrank from something to nothing. The light of a creator that subdued my mind and enslaved my spirit blinked out into the nothingness that it always was.
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Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
Untitled 10
Coexistence I I attend on each specified day, I take off my hat in respect. I believe in what I see. I know; And I dare not reject.
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Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Adherent
The planet earth is maybe the material gold dust of all. But it’s null on what it bases purely standing on empty space! Indeed there is no matter at the base of the matter. The nano atoms adherent to natural scientia split and dance the bottomline is pure blank! Cosy slim and delicate atom continues to deep down. Stripping off to the quark zooming in yet far inside much more further down. Goodness knows how comfy slim will it be before it touches down on to the universe smallest layer. The matter, confined to natural codes, in search of the smallest building block turning to be a matter free off the matter.
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 7:55 PM UTC
The Art of a Scientific Atom
Inglorious light To strand light from darkness the greatest victory Jesus said I am the light of the world it was fixed and Sure no dividing nothing to confuse but then man’s desires arose as in all instances when he would Dismiss God’s sovereign authority honesty is missing they don’t say initially the truth spoke thusly no They craft well their superimposing disfigured light it has to appeal it must have the essence of Misrepresentation with this you will be enlightened and thankfully you can do it by a measure that you Can control you will be god and have the authority see all the lights draw them together into a super Beam they are outer bold strokes of genius variable dreams exists in this bright coexistence with Darkness you can blatantly satisfy all manner of appetites and keep you heart from alarm you are Walking in light there is a supreme being and he too is known as the angel of light that is filled with all The arts of deceit he will dazzle and from his inner light you will fall from heavenly heights the same as He there is no end to your trouble nor his but what a ride to control thoughts and destines of others that Innocently trust your words the breach know the true word was abridged to fit a morality that didn’t fit Into true and right nobility no matter substitute your own please make it glowing the greatest Subterfuge must look closely like the original we are speaking of eternal verities fine tune the sphere it Must pass the acid test for the casual adherent only the best divisible means must be employed you are Substituting bedrock truth with the illusion of truth never say the devil won’t give you your do even he Plays fair to a point you are giving up a kingdom your right as an heir not to mention love will be changed To murderous intent the death of a soul is not a minor undertaking you laid the ground work so expertly Now to keep up the pretense it’s not really like its hard we are all rebels just play into the general feeling That is maximized when you add the poison of deceit its the drug that will never fail love be dammed see You in Hell
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Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
Inglorious light
Inglorious light To strand light from darkness the greatest victory Jesus said I am the light of the world it was fixed and Sure no dividing nothing to confuse but then man’s desires arose as in all instances when he would Dismiss God’s sovereign authority honesty is missing they don’t say initially the truth spoke thusly no They craft well their superimposing disfigured light it has to appeal it must have the essence of Misrepresentation with this you will be enlightened and thankfully you can do it by a measure that you Can control you will be god and have the authority see all the lights draw them together into a super Beam they are outer bold strokes of genius variable dreams exists in this bright coexistence with Darkness you can blatantly satisfy all manner of appetites and keep you heart from alarm you are Walking in light there is a supreme being and he too is known as the angel of light that is filled with all The arts of deceit he will dazzle and from his inner light you will fall from heavenly heights the same as He there is no end to your trouble nor his but what a ride to control thoughts and destines of others that Innocently trust your words the breach know the true word was abridged to fit a morality that didn’t fit Into true and right nobility no matter substitute your own please make it glowing the greatest Subterfuge must look closely like the original we are speaking of eternal verities fine tune the sphere it Must pass the acid test for the casual adherent only the best divisible means must be employed you are Substituting bedrock truth with the illusion of truth never say the devil won’t give you your do even he Plays fair to a point you are giving up a kingdom your right as an heir not to mention love will be changed To murderous intent the death of a soul is not a minor undertaking you laid the ground work so expertly Now to keep up the pretense it’s not really like its hard we are all rebels just play into the general feeling That is maximized when you add the poison of deceit its the drug that will never fail love be dammed see You in Hell
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22
The youth Good toppest lustre of the day The brave hulk which makes hay These adherent shining through blames Our pure ambrosial saints ain't flames These souls has a new odour today The young beautiful flash to play We are the good children of glare Our colour candytuft shift blur God's love mends and make the youth This time and space experience use The living waters with the future frozen Our power through the mirror was spoken Past passion, post move on the song The uniform dance, listen the flowers wrong Happiness blossom the rainbow nation Our fruit bloom the path of fasion We are blood washing through the rails Of a sweeping banister. Unfolding tails
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
the youth
Crushed by the perplexity of Chronos transparent Awakened to destiny Ananke, forever adherent the Titans birthed the Gods without peripheral vision who against the odds, would free the cycle from its own attrition
0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
The Breaking of Ananke
Standing silent close to Kaveri reach, Watching vary fountain which night please, In middle blossom of unsteady plant, Being indulge with various vision haunt. Along the beauty dissolve my offer, I was infatuated in love indescribable manner. No sooner than that music flow, All at once water sparks glow. By ogle display confirmed pair deadly pact rest. And put hands tide round each waist. Within period merely couple a day, Agree to run both on single way. A soaring airship disturbed our pleasure Harshly snatched her looks from arms mine forever. There were cloudy sky near those mountain Violent storm too approached drain out plane. How sad was thee trip to B'lore shine, Made vanish present as fairy tale genuine. Perhaps, none accounts definite what would happen, Rare enjoys life replete, many fade uncertain. It is pre-determines every lot before hence. The man has skilled accustom structure accordance. While an individual's regular purity convinced Him, Only may trial complete his crack courteous whim. Love and *** known as supplement, Any be effective prior in adherent, Just satisfaction of obstinate body illustrate *** But love is lasting long till universe. If a man bounds with sensual lore, Ne'er gets limit, well! I am sure. My love touch pride of wide majesty, Doesn't need tedious effort advent sanctity. Let proper close destiny matter jollifying. Yet I shall preserve idol always undying. Neither time could decay nor death blot, Thy name will survive period breathes little art.
0
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
My Love
Standing silent close to Kaveri reach, Watching vary fountain which night please, In middle blossom of unsteady plant, Being indulge with various vision haunt. Along the beauty dissolve my offer, I was infatuated in love indescribable manner. No sooner than that music flow, All at once water sparks glow. By ogle display confirmed pair deadly pact rest. And put hands tide round each waist. Within period merely couple a day, Agree to run both on single way. A soaring airship disturbed our pleasure Harshly snatched her looks from arms mine forever. There were cloudy sky near those mountain Violent storm too approached drain out plane. How sad was thee trip to B'lore shine, Made vanish present as fairy tale genuine. Perhaps, none accounts definite what would happen, Rare enjoys life replete, many fade uncertain. It is pre-determines every lot before hence. The man has skilled accustom structure accordance. While an individual's regular purity convinced Him, Only may trial complete his crack courteous whim. Love and *** known as supplement, Any be effective prior in adherent, Just satisfaction of obstinate body illustrate *** But love is lasting long till universe. If a man bounds with sensual lore, Ne'er gets limit, well! I am sure. My love touch pride of wide majesty, Doesn't need tedious effort advent sanctity. Let proper close destiny matter jollifying. Yet I shall preserve idol always undying. Neither time could decay nor death blot, Thy name will survive period breathes little art.
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36
I'm saddled with a basic logic Still I dared to assume most who could get it, would get it Might get it? Should get it? I don't get it Forget it Look at this nightmare that's gone unchecked, it's pathetic A lost faith in the general public You'd think it'd matter who done it but it doesn't No one's above it The simple seems problematic, What do you hear in the static, Voices in an attic? Gotta keep that quiet Tone it down a bit Everyone's super understanding here on the internet But watch it can change quick in private THAT'S what hurts the most, THAT'S what's unfortunate THAT'S the embodiment of evil adherent ©2024
0
Jun 4, 2024
Jun 4, 2024 at 6:37 PM UTC
~•§•~ Becoming Problematic Quick ~•§•~
I carry an umbrella again and find gigs to play when soon my adherent of veracity does connect mood with a thread here her snooty wish now verbosity and fill nights with vicissitude that can still cling to virtual attitude with a quasar if I can compose near as a constellation tout direct ties there though multitudes from clouds of authenticity and ridden with adversity only good as Columbus while a homespun manicure of bliss will stiffen stations with thine air and stake canvass in this future sound.
0
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
Constellation Bracket
i used to play guitar, as i also used to fiddle with my fingers, against the thumb... titilating experience... playing guitar?     let's just say... how would a guitarist read a morse version of braille, would it be easier to read the morse version of braille...    or just braille? numbed tips of fingers of a left hand...                                       ∴    morse                                   braille . _                                             ⠁ _ . . .                                         ⠃ _ . _ .                                        ⠉ _ . .                                           ⠙ .                                                ⠑ . . _ .                                         ⠋ _ _ .                                          ⠛      (g) . . . .                                          ⠓ . .                                              ⠊ . _ _ _                                       ⠚ _ . _                                          ⠅ . _ . .                                         ⠇ _ _                                            ⠍ (m) _ .                                             ⠝ _ _ _                                         ⠕   (o) . _ _ .                                        ⠏ _ _ . _                                       ⠟ (q) . _ .                                           ⠗ (r) . . .                                            ⠎ _                                               ⠞ . . _                                           ⠥ (u) . . . _                                         ⠧ (v) . _ _                                          ⠺ _ . . _                                        ⠭ (x) _ . _ _                                       ⠽ (y) _ _ . .                                        ⠵ (z) point being... you really must have tender finger tips to read braille... which also implies... if were not born blind...    when you were not blind and had to roughen your hands up, with some mediocre "waste of time" akin to playing a guitar?    **** you're ****** no, literally...    because if braille is the answer... and you have thick finger-tips?! that's it...       unless of course, braille is replaced with morse... test: i write with my right hand... but... if i were to read? i.e. use my left hand for both playing the guitar and reading?       braille, or morse? morse!     at least it is adherent to some sort of translateable arithmetic / quasi-algebra... you must have very tender finger tips to read braille... i tried it a few times, given that its provided on most of the packaging of pharmaceuticals in england...       i.e. diabetic type 1, born with it, diabetic type 2,                         overdid the chocolate... sorry, my finger tips are too rough, shouldn't have learned to play the guitar,               i couldn't read you braille with these fingers... but if you translated braille into morse?        chances are...                               i probably could. plus? i wouldn't require tender fingertips, akin to a french origin braille reader... give me morse, blind? i could read it... but, the current braille? requiring tender french finger-tips? no hyphen, solely dotty? well... good luck... finding the next blind lemon jefferson... who, apart from playing the guitar, could also read braille... good luck!
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
the morse | braille divide
i used to play guitar, as i also used to fiddle with my fingers, against the thumb... titilating experience... playing guitar?     let's just say... how would a guitarist read a morse version of braille, would it be easier to read the morse version of braille...    or just braille? numbed tips of fingers of a left hand...                                       ∴    morse                                   braille . _                                             ⠁ _ . . .                                         ⠃ _ . _ .                                        ⠉ _ . .                                           ⠙ .                                                ⠑ . . _ .                                         ⠋ _ _ .                                          ⠛      (g) . . . .                                          ⠓ . .                                              ⠊ . _ _ _                                       ⠚ _ . _                                          ⠅ . _ . .                                         ⠇ _ _                                            ⠍ (m) _ .                                             ⠝ _ _ _                                         ⠕   (o) . _ _ .                                        ⠏ _ _ . _                                       ⠟ (q) . _ .                                           ⠗ (r) . . .                                            ⠎ _                                               ⠞ . . _                                           ⠥ (u) . . . _                                         ⠧ (v) . _ _                                          ⠺ _ . . _                                        ⠭ (x) _ . _ _                                       ⠽ (y) _ _ . .                                        ⠵ (z) point being... you really must have tender finger tips to read braille... which also implies... if were not born blind...    when you were not blind and had to roughen your hands up, with some mediocre "waste of time" akin to playing a guitar?    **** you're ****** no, literally...    because if braille is the answer... and you have thick finger-tips?! that's it...       unless of course, braille is replaced with morse... test: i write with my right hand... but... if i were to read? i.e. use my left hand for both playing the guitar and reading?       braille, or morse? morse!     at least it is adherent to some sort of translateable arithmetic / quasi-algebra... you must have very tender finger tips to read braille... i tried it a few times, given that its provided on most of the packaging of pharmaceuticals in england...       i.e. diabetic type 1, born with it, diabetic type 2,                         overdid the chocolate... sorry, my finger tips are too rough, shouldn't have learned to play the guitar,               i couldn't read you braille with these fingers... but if you translated braille into morse?        chances are...                               i probably could. plus? i wouldn't require tender fingertips, akin to a french origin braille reader... give me morse, blind? i could read it... but, the current braille? requiring tender french finger-tips? no hyphen, solely dotty? well... good luck... finding the next blind lemon jefferson... who, apart from playing the guitar, could also read braille... good luck!
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102
Surrending Mind and soul Wishing you Gives sublime bliss I wonder How would it be If you Wish back Everything about courtesy Thanks To the sacred breakthrough Forever true And once again Here I'm With a zen smile Adherent joyfully What could I ask for more?
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Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 1:31 AM UTC
Breathless
I heard And my voice Broke- That was the end: “Kennedy Fell From a criminal hand… ” And My hair Stood on end. I gave A hostile reception To that News on my own way. I did understand Kennedy is A kind And nice chap. And He is Reform’s Eternal adherent. In the morn He lived During lunch He died. Everybody Lost comfort At that instant. “Kennedy!” Pipes Blew loudly “Jo-o-o-hn!” Dead marsh repeated The word Democracy’s Pillar Was cut down Meanly. Johny Is quitting The boundary Of our world. We will remember These heroes! Johny is America’s glorious son. He is among Home foundations’ adherents, Descendants Will be proud Of him Under the sun. {22.11.2015} СЫН АМЕРИКИ Услышал – и мой оборвался голос – «Кеннеди пал от преступной руки…» Дыбом вставали за волосом волос, По-своему новость восприняв в штыки. Кеннеди – добрый и славный малый, Вечный сторонник больших реформ. Утром он жил, а в обед – не стало. Все потеряли в тот миг комфорт. «Кеннеди!» – громко трубили трубы, «Джо-о-о-о-н!» – повторял похоронный марш. Столп демократии подло срублен, Джонни предел покидает наш. Будем мы помнить таких героев! Джонни – Америки славный сын: Ярый сторонник родных устоев – Будут потомки гордиться им! {22.11.2015} Translator - I. Toporov
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May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 7:33 AM UTC
THE SON OF AMERICA
I heard And my voice Broke- That was the end: “Kennedy Fell From a criminal hand… ” And My hair Stood on end. I gave A hostile reception To that News on my own way. I did understand Kennedy is A kind And nice chap. And He is Reform’s Eternal adherent. In the morn He lived During lunch He died. Everybody Lost comfort At that instant. “Kennedy!” Pipes Blew loudly “Jo-o-o-hn!” Dead marsh repeated The word Democracy’s Pillar Was cut down Meanly. Johny Is quitting The boundary Of our world. We will remember These heroes! Johny is America’s glorious son. He is among Home foundations’ adherents, Descendants Will be proud Of him Under the sun. {22.11.2015} СЫН АМЕРИКИ Услышал – и мой оборвался голос – «Кеннеди пал от преступной руки…» Дыбом вставали за волосом волос, По-своему новость восприняв в штыки. Кеннеди – добрый и славный малый, Вечный сторонник больших реформ. Утром он жил, а в обед – не стало. Все потеряли в тот миг комфорт. «Кеннеди!» – громко трубили трубы, «Джо-о-о-о-н!» – повторял похоронный марш. Столп демократии подло срублен, Джонни предел покидает наш. Будем мы помнить таких героев! Джонни – Америки славный сын: Ярый сторонник родных устоев – Будут потомки гордиться им! {22.11.2015} Translator - I. Toporov
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121
the good toppest lustre of the day the brave hulk which makes hay These adherent shining through blames our pure ambrosial saints not flames we are the good choldren with glare our color candytuft shift blur these souls have a new odour today the young beautiful flash to play post passion past move on the song the uniform dances listen to the flowers wrong but our fruit bloom the path of fashion happiness blossom the rainbow nation we are like blood washing through the rails of a sweeping banister unfolding tales
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
the youth
Stanley, An adherent of Rosenblatt, Who declared we must always Return to the text, I write you this apology. Having read your text, How to Write a Sentence, And How to Read One, I confess, I've changed my mind. Your point is made: The tension we must feel Is found in words Arranged carefully In ways meaningful, In ways transcendent Of the words themselves, Or we should leave the books We love to read upon the shelves.
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Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
Apology to Stanley Fish
Looking for a secret in the cemeteries Cause that i walk with corpses Even began with sun and shine Darkness is where my mind blows The blind gleam couldn't find Any liaison between life and death Double seeing everything Thoughts are adherent to emotions Screams coming whence caverns Forgot what i know so afraid Horrendous and terrible I wish a rainbow dragon I am saying a prayer that i never heard They are nailing my skull Turning a deaf ear I haven't gone crazy yet
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
Androphonomania
"The Body Eclectic" Sons and daughters of the cosmos we stand touched together light vibrations adherent Space emanating consciousness consciousness emitting space one cause without contradiction Effect arises and becomes co-creator shaper and shaped roiling to laws self born Gravity not other separate but one side view of me you rock the heavens coiling together emptiness to forms transient moving no stopping of the process flow exists wonderment continual Words but crippled leprous fingers pointing tool only don't get lost seeing the path as God Journeys End Reality Metaphors i write crafting melody perhaps some may hear this effort for my own progress to i don't know where a here now out of the mirror In the beginning naught but the naught void not even rays clear light no need all is all in all What is past present comprehension happens none the less human views unneeded for genesis gnosis that which is began begins omniscience fading fast under wavelets minuscule almost not Bump bump cling bump bump cling physics births itself space time sentience primordial wisdom one step down up sideways in ten directions expanding growth nothing happening out of the ordinary Miracle a name for beauty not comprehended i you we fish elephants star One by one no such thing separate a myth invented Oscillations stream genes now are before weren't again will not be Particles particles ever new particles fabricate particles waves Us the body eclectic
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Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
The Body Eclectic