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"adopting" poems
My mom used to tell me when I was a kid that thank you note is important. To let people know that you're thankful, and appreciate their efforts. As I grow older, I'm so used on writing thank you notes with the same template on every note. But I, or we, tend to forget to write one for those who cope with our lives. So I wrote this one is for you. Thank you for letting me crash in your place when I was far from sober, almost on every Friday nights. You literally picked me up when I'm down. On the grown. Thank you for staying up with me until 5 even when you got a big meeting at 8 in the morning. Because you know how much I hate sleeping, but I'll be the bitchiest ***** if you try to wake me up. Thank you for bringing me a bouquet of fake flowers instead of the real one. You sure know me way too well to know that I can't keep real flowers alive. Or cactus, or fishes, or my phone's battery. Yea, my phone's battery ***** But you trust me to keep what we have, alive. And lasts as long as it possibly could. Thank you for making every queue line less boring with all your dad jokes, they made me think that you're a qualified good father to your future kids. Or maybe ours. But I hate children and you love them, as much as I hate karaoke and as much as you love it. But gosh, you made me think of adopting. We are nothing but night and day. A thunderstorm and a rainbow. A cactus and a peony. A manageable chaos and a managed you. And yet we compliment each other like peanut butter and pickle on a sandwich. Sure, it's one of the weirdest combination but somehow it goes surprisingly fine. I swear I'm not going to make this cheesy but if it was, well, **** I know this is not what you imagine to be with me in the first place when you slipped into my life. But I thank you, for deciding to stay.
0
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 7:42 PM UTC
Thank You Note
My mom used to tell me when I was a kid that thank you note is important. To let people know that you're thankful, and appreciate their efforts. As I grow older, I'm so used on writing thank you notes with the same template on every note. But I, or we, tend to forget to write one for those who cope with our lives. So I wrote this one is for you. Thank you for letting me crash in your place when I was far from sober, almost on every Friday nights. You literally picked me up when I'm down. On the grown. Thank you for staying up with me until 5 even when you got a big meeting at 8 in the morning. Because you know how much I hate sleeping, but I'll be the bitchiest ***** if you try to wake me up. Thank you for bringing me a bouquet of fake flowers instead of the real one. You sure know me way too well to know that I can't keep real flowers alive. Or cactus, or fishes, or my phone's battery. Yea, my phone's battery ***** But you trust me to keep what we have, alive. And lasts as long as it possibly could. Thank you for making every queue line less boring with all your dad jokes, they made me think that you're a qualified good father to your future kids. Or maybe ours. But I hate children and you love them, as much as I hate karaoke and as much as you love it. But gosh, you made me think of adopting. We are nothing but night and day. A thunderstorm and a rainbow. A cactus and a peony. A manageable chaos and a managed you. And yet we compliment each other like peanut butter and pickle on a sandwich. Sure, it's one of the weirdest combination but somehow it goes surprisingly fine. I swear I'm not going to make this cheesy but if it was, well, **** I know this is not what you imagine to be with me in the first place when you slipped into my life. But I thank you, for deciding to stay.
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58
I am the entourage Of a fantastic mirage I am the agent Of my mind's figment I am a believer Of mythical creatures I am a builder Of splendid architecture I am a drunkard Tripping on futures so absurd I plan construction Of my own destruction I am the feeder To dreams of grandeur I am a magician Of wild, potent concoctions I am a tycoon Of emotional typhoons I am an adept Skilled in exploiting concepts I am a parasite Brandishing fangs that bite I play host To a monstrous, hideous ghost I am an addict Of thoughts derelict I am the dreamer Incapable of anything lesser I am a diver Sinking deeper and deeper I am an insatiable thief Claiming trophies without grief I am an emotional hermit Hoarding my all in a bottomless pit I am a weaver Fabricating tales that meander I am a Neanderthal Adopting behaviours and habits that appall I am an ape Mending wounds that gape I am but me I'm blind, fighting to see I am rhymesmith I lie through my teeth Getting hard to breathe Heart to words, I seethe...
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Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
Me
Chance is being in the right place at the right time, coinciding with the orbit of another searching the aspirations that you to seek. A connection needs attention, a compliment, a smile, an enquiry of mutual interest that engages instantly. The abdication of convenient norms, a shift in behaviour, adopting a new travel direction. It requires no discrimination, but an open welcoming mind, conjoining parallel convergence, Meeting. © Pagan Paul (2018)
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Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC
Chance Meeting
i like to turn into a girl once in a fortnight after i just washed my hair... and take a selfie! then i read the fashion magazine alongside marquis de sade... and it makes perfect sense to **** beauty like that... well according to the marquis it does. how's my hair? styled properly brushed to the side long against anti-clockwise curtains of lock that was propaganda with ****** adopting the charlie chaplin moustache and people after ****** ensured confusion whether to split it to the right rather than the left? i’m right-handed, i need the power base of keratin on my cranium hanging to the left!
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
fortnight hygiene
Her mind is the lake where the rainbow rests. I stolen the lake that she withhold to me. now, I colour to my life with the shades adopting from the same.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC
The lake where the rainbow rests
By book-ends my stomach is churning, I'm cantankerous and stand-offish in spurts, barely there in others. I could not dig up where my head was if I had to. I do not have to. There are some things in my life that lead themselves to failure. I have dropped instinct, instead adopting pattern, a means of coping with the endlessness of life in a globalized world. This is not lament. I could part with objectivity, happy to expire for a scrap of extra sentience. Please, before my words become manners and manners become holes full of dirt, pardon me for the mess. I only had so much time after all.
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Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Manners
If I die tonight, there is so much to be said that will be left unsaid. The memories your only company of me. Time and nature making me one with dirt. Out of all the people whom I thought I loved or said I did, one has remained the closest to my heart always. 19 years seems far too little a time to have made an impact on the world. But I hope I may have made a difference in the lives of the few I knew and cherished. I ask those whom I have hurt to forgive my misdoings. For no one, not even I could understand the emotional conflicts of this young teenage heart. I thank the friends who have stayed by my side through the sands of time. Through every test, every crush and every fight. For their unfathomable faith in me and their love gave me the strength I needed. I also thank those who did not stay for long. Your presence even for the shortest minute in my whirlwind drama of a life was a gift. You certainly made a difference no matter how short your stay. The memories of you have stayed with me even though your physical presence could not. My parents, whom I have blamed, cursed and hated for countless reasons on occasions, I am glad you gave birth to me. Them adopting me into their family of love, eccentricity and laughter is a gift I can never stop thanking for. I don't blame them for their faults after all; we humans are all flawed to the core of our souls. This was not the way I had planned on leaving. The hopes and dreams and ideas of my young self now lay in the dust beside my cold body. Nothing but shattered thoughts of what could have been. The journey ahead is unknown and terrifying to me. To walk into the tunnel alone is definitely not what I wished for. To leave those precious without another word or kiss pains me. I float away into an adventure or oblivion I know not. Yet I float away all the same.
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
If I die tonight..?
If I die tonight, there is so much to be said that will be left unsaid. The memories your only company of me. Time and nature making me one with dirt. Out of all the people whom I thought I loved or said I did, one has remained the closest to my heart always. 19 years seems far too little a time to have made an impact on the world. But I hope I may have made a difference in the lives of the few I knew and cherished. I ask those whom I have hurt to forgive my misdoings. For no one, not even I could understand the emotional conflicts of this young teenage heart. I thank the friends who have stayed by my side through the sands of time. Through every test, every crush and every fight. For their unfathomable faith in me and their love gave me the strength I needed. I also thank those who did not stay for long. Your presence even for the shortest minute in my whirlwind drama of a life was a gift. You certainly made a difference no matter how short your stay. The memories of you have stayed with me even though your physical presence could not. My parents, whom I have blamed, cursed and hated for countless reasons on occasions, I am glad you gave birth to me. Them adopting me into their family of love, eccentricity and laughter is a gift I can never stop thanking for. I don't blame them for their faults after all; we humans are all flawed to the core of our souls. This was not the way I had planned on leaving. The hopes and dreams and ideas of my young self now lay in the dust beside my cold body. Nothing but shattered thoughts of what could have been. The journey ahead is unknown and terrifying to me. To walk into the tunnel alone is definitely not what I wished for. To leave those precious without another word or kiss pains me. I float away into an adventure or oblivion I know not. Yet I float away all the same.
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26
Seasons come and go, it constantly changes Like changing a notebook that's running out of pages Modernization comes and wipe off traditional ways But does it really help us ? - That's the big question now a days Long time ago, we're all living in simplicity Everything's enough, and there's no scarcity We're contented with God's gift together with our family But those travellers came and changed our mindset Our culture experienced a very big offset And up to now- we can still see the disparity -For our country once became a kind of charity Adopting every detail of other's culture And had almost forgotten our own Theirs had grown in stature While ours was rarely sown. Tis' one of the sad thing to imagine But it's like just some of us are concerned Our culture is experiencing famine We need to feed it! - that's what I learned. Come to think of it my fellow Filipinos Culture is part of each and everyone of us So let's continue to enrich it and learn more values For in this modern world that constantly changes, it's the only thing that'll last.
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 6:31 AM UTC
"Culture"
I'm still stuck in day-drunk unemployment. A millennial with eyes to a screen, adopting a science in a bedroom whisper for Gaza. Now a writer of pretty words and clumsy verse, there's no place for happiness in forcing poetry. There are ribbons and bows around the fenced-off trees, there are notebooks of unfinished thought. I'm searching the skies for a scrap of movement, for some coded message to **** the engine of war. There's a wedding in the morning, and there is somebody who still believes in love. Rainbow confetti will kick in the sky, a dandelion is born in the skull of old Palestine. I'm still stuck in this new-age desperation, a constant plea for peaceful completion. I'm changing address for a clean way of living, in your sweet floral dress, let this be the beginning.
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Don't Be A Writer
I shed tears You shed humanity I dread and fear Your unstable insanity You loosen your compassion Like it's your belt For it's in your fashion To inflict welts On the ground I knelt Doubled over in pain From a punishing rain My eyes welled up and my vision got blurry I was unable to break your encryption of fury My mind was in constant examination Of your gift of violent contamination Lines were crossed on my back Living life on your torture rack You become my God You never spare the rod My brother may be able But I'm on ******* I turned the tables By torching my brain On the ****** train I invented a game Out of ruining your creation My veins experienced deflation Until I saw the error of my ways Adopting your negative craze You wanted me to get used to pain But I'd rather get used to change The effects of corporal punishment are felt When society hits us with a conveyor belt Convincing us if something worked it must continue to Our childhood experience this is imprinted through We figure our children must be belted After our minds have been smelted Forged in fire Our hearts retired As we grew colder The beaten grew older And reproduced And re-introduced A punishing perception of the world They beat the clam that holds the pearl
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Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
Punishing
I’m recording this From the future Ten years ahead To warn you that Growing up is proven To be a trap. Inevitable as it is Here are five advice That you should keep in mind And follow right after Reading this message To live long and prosper. Foremost, please try your best Not to make a hobby Of talking to yourself For it will haunt you Even while you shower Or as you take a sip on your coffee. Start adopting a cat Not for you to cuddle But as a guard to your home Aliens have used dogs to invade us And without a feline, their only weakness You will not be safe this April 11, 2016. Double your dose Of caffeine intake I regret to have started When I was already twenty five The sooner the better It’s the secret elixir of youth. Do not believe in commercials All the likes have been banned In the year 2020 For they have been shown To be made up of 80% lies Which caused a second industrial revolution. Coke is good, if not the greatest But try drinking Pepsi more often For a Pepsi fanatic will dominate the world And he will release a proclamation Sentencing to death any Pepsizen Who cannot reach the required daily intake. And a post script Just to let you know If you can hear the loud noises At the background of this tape It’s a horde of zombies Dancing to the sound of Justin Bieber’s Baby.
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
To The 21-Year Old Me
thin. paper thin. here is a bonus. (or is it bogus?) the order of release. the order of dead pages gliding in the wind. advertisements for adopting a lonely asteroid or building fire extinguishers in your spare time. the rain of acceptance comes with dark clouds of shipping and handling. just check the appropriate box and send it in. send it in now!
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Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 12:36 PM UTC
Subscription Cards That Fall Out of Magazines
Amidst the stench of alley trash And musky homelessness, The slicing eyes of a slinking black cat Were the only silent watchers. II I lie at the bottom of a gaping chasm. High above me, the cat peers Over the edge. III The cold, dark cells Echo the cries of loneliness. The soft patter of black feline paws Walk the halls in waiting. IV The car sped down the icy road Until a black cat crossed its path And stopped to watch them, Passing. V I peer at the statue of an angel in the mist And it stares back, Adopting the beady green eyes Of a black cat in the shadows. VI A woman runs from clawing hands. The black cat must be in pursuit. VII Temptation cries my name Three times. The black cat awaits.
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Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
Payment Awaits (A Modernist Poem)
Selfless service. Ego-less existence. Robes Unwearable to mortal Men, yet their colours are Worth adopting onto One's own everyday Fatigues. I sit with one eye Closed wherever I am, wondering Whether this snake uncoiling Within me is Kundalini awakening To tell me that Dio's Stand Up And Shout is not a mantra, Or just some sense of knowing That I have not a single reason to Smile. Until I Smile.
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Kundalini
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, find peace but don't forget your journey to that---old draft :-: being no one is embarrassing everyone becomes null in everything put the mean in a meaning to steam but nothingness is a two edged sword when levitating a meaningless world adopting the faces into my timeline for glasses to erupt in aware speak for themselves my thoughts of clears and fair notice my dares and hesitates when it comes to the memories of them fades and unfades want the roses to bloom for the awake of the kills and dooms take a breath shake life's hand against death tongues speak although aimless word disguise is chic an invisible devotion about surviving chaotic commotion                                                                                         -----ravenfeels
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Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 6:06 PM UTC
Row Row Row Your Boat
(footnote) 2100 years ago a band of Jews defeated the Greek army And drove them off their land, reclaiming the holy temple In Jerusalem and rededicating it to the service of god. when they sought to light the temples menorah They found only a single cruse of olive oil that escaped contamination by the Greeks. Miraculously the one day supply lasted eight days. The sages instituted the festival of Chanukah To publicize these miracles. The Dreidel which is a four sided top with a Hebrew letter on each side which means “ a great miracle happened here” was used later on in the years to give thanks to god Without the enemy knowing that they were praying. Chanukah, the Jewish festival of rededication, also known as the festival of lights, is an eight day festival beginning on the 25th day of the Jewish month of Kislev. Chanukah is probably one of the best known Jewish holidays, not because of any great religious significance, but because of its proximity to Christmas. Many non-Jews (and even many assimilated Jews!) think of this holiday as the Jewish Christmas, adopting many of the Christmas customs, such as elaborate gift-giving and decoration. It is bitterly ironic that this holiday, which has its roots in a revolution against assimilation and suppression of Jewish religion, has become the most assimilated, secular holiday on our calendar. Christmas and Chanukah are known world wide But these two faiths do not collide. They walk hand in hand For they came out of the promised land. You see : the son of god was born a Jew The Romans felt this was taboo. No other religion could exist This was controlled by the Romans fist. JESUS preached in synagogues throughout the lands Something that the Romans did withstand. His own people wanted his death But little did they know That with this- a new faith would grow. The cross on which he died became a symbol Of Christianity, and that’s the way God meant it to be. Chanukah is eight days of giving while the Christian Holiday is just one day ,but during these holidays we all kneel and pray. We give GOD thanks for all the beauties of the earth And for family and friends, and it is something That will never end. As long as man holds a belief in their hearts And faith,-then all will be overcome and Let GODS will be done. © L . RAMS
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Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
chanukah and christmas
(footnote) 2100 years ago a band of Jews defeated the Greek army And drove them off their land, reclaiming the holy temple In Jerusalem and rededicating it to the service of god. when they sought to light the temples menorah They found only a single cruse of olive oil that escaped contamination by the Greeks. Miraculously the one day supply lasted eight days. The sages instituted the festival of Chanukah To publicize these miracles. The Dreidel which is a four sided top with a Hebrew letter on each side which means “ a great miracle happened here” was used later on in the years to give thanks to god Without the enemy knowing that they were praying. Chanukah, the Jewish festival of rededication, also known as the festival of lights, is an eight day festival beginning on the 25th day of the Jewish month of Kislev. Chanukah is probably one of the best known Jewish holidays, not because of any great religious significance, but because of its proximity to Christmas. Many non-Jews (and even many assimilated Jews!) think of this holiday as the Jewish Christmas, adopting many of the Christmas customs, such as elaborate gift-giving and decoration. It is bitterly ironic that this holiday, which has its roots in a revolution against assimilation and suppression of Jewish religion, has become the most assimilated, secular holiday on our calendar. Christmas and Chanukah are known world wide But these two faiths do not collide. They walk hand in hand For they came out of the promised land. You see : the son of god was born a Jew The Romans felt this was taboo. No other religion could exist This was controlled by the Romans fist. JESUS preached in synagogues throughout the lands Something that the Romans did withstand. His own people wanted his death But little did they know That with this- a new faith would grow. The cross on which he died became a symbol Of Christianity, and that’s the way God meant it to be. Chanukah is eight days of giving while the Christian Holiday is just one day ,but during these holidays we all kneel and pray. We give GOD thanks for all the beauties of the earth And for family and friends, and it is something That will never end. As long as man holds a belief in their hearts And faith,-then all will be overcome and Let GODS will be done. © L . RAMS
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43
I wish to comb the now distant Eden Adopting Penelope's marble poise To find her marvelling Polaris' freedom Not questioning her heart, unlike my words. Vaulted abaft* her marmoreal* shoulders Chiliad* tales won, your silhouette Decorticating* off African suns. Oil lamp explorer, icy caves your lamp Cannot warm; There are paths to cross with will, Verdant* bridges constellated* with time. Yet you, Inexhaustible human heart, Beat with love. You gravedigger of the sky, Estranged Love, brave forevermore the Afar, Beyond the doubts of your enduring Heart.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Memorial: To a Wavering Pulse
The silver moon falls from sight as the rising tide kisses adjacent piers. The cool morning rests over the gentle bay as clouds commute covering the light of day. Brown thrashers rhythmically mimic stolen song as they traverse the canal. Barefoot toes roam freely frequenting familiar footpaths. Minute minnow mouths toy with the bait bobbing the cork. Experienced hands handle seafood adopting its scent while the blue ***** boil into crimson. Afternoon showers cool the earth as a mysterious moon lowers the tide. Night falls again in Mississippi.
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Jun 6, 2023
Jun 6, 2023 at 4:21 PM UTC
Mississippi
I crave to be an owner, Sedulous and true, Striving to become a gainer, Knowing exactly what to do. The formula is to take a pledge, To preach authenticity and be determined, Steadfast with my  thoughts that fledge, No matter, to what we may be destined. Ensuring a good state for the wage-earners, By protecting them with economic shields, Harnessing all my morals and manners, Adopting legitimacy and making fair yields. Civil service, civil trust, Lawful endeavor is a must.
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
LAWFUL ENDEAVOUR
I was born into a world where your inner pocket decides your destiny, A world were dreams have no value A world filled with people with black hearted soul, Carrying around big cheesy smiles across their face, Living with malicious thought but still never fail to mingle, Mischievous they are, they depend on your success for motivation, Yet our motive is to be innovative, Seating so adamant not observant, and end up been their servant, When shall it end we ask, today or tomorrow ? tomorrow's better if not today we reminisce, Hoping for a breakthrough, After we have been stabbed & left with scars, Looking for the strength to stand up tall ones again, Realizing our mistakes & adopting a new personality trait, I Never had d chance to dream, So how do I revive myself , Noting inspires me , so why should I be affectionate we say , We become so ****** nd vained, Anger & sadness mixed with joy , pain & sorrow, No one to count on anymore, All these strains my credulity, sadness gathered from one mistake Making me miserable every minute, Suicide we think of, but the pain subsidies, Shivering and capturing ourselves cap sizing Within a blink of an eye, But the truth of life's, We need nightmares to appreciate not been in it, life is a beach we are just playing in the sand ,"
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Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
PAIN BEHIND LIFE
its been a month funny how time flies it seems only yesterday you were there laughing smiling holding my hand singing along to showtunes in the car we were happier than we had ever been i shouldve known it would end life has a hard-on for ******* me over ruining all the good in my life . . . whyd it happen to you of all people . . . we had a lot of plans college together an apartment in the city maybe getting married adopting a kid or two spending another thirteen years as best friends and then some but those plans never work out do they? . . . i dont know how ill move on . . . i listened to the cd the karaoke we did at the arcade two years ago livin on a prayer we were fifteen freshman in high school even when youre scream-singing you have an amazing voice had you had an amazing voice i envy the angels who hear you singing now save a song for me . . . i hope this finds you wherever you are i figured polaris would help . . . you are my home always have been always will be . . . farewell . . . ill see you soon
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May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC
a farewell, of sorts, addressed to polaris
I felt your ghost sitting in that chair with me today. I don't know when I took to sitting in it too But I mean, it makes sense that I'd like it. People develop the same tastes as their best friends, And as their fathers. When dad left you were their to make it Not so bad. And you didn't like dad very much So you had no reservations About adopting his chair as yours. But then you left too And six years later The scars both of you left behind Have only just now healed enough For the chair to gain me as its occupant. I reclined it it all the way today And as the silence engulfed me You and I cracked up together And played video games while my dad Sat there too: snoring, Unable to stay up with his kids To watch The Rugrats Before putting them to bed.
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
The Green Leather Chair in the Living Room
You used to laugh (and     pretend my spiny sweet-gum        words would cringe at the very   brush of a lifetime), but                      our seasons are changing                 (everything is all at once an                   unwavering green), adopting                       breadth of iceberg proportions        (we dance around forever.)
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Growing a Story
Beloved son (of a)... Sweet mother...lover. yes, please, write this on the gravestone I'll rest under. You must mention my NPO for the poor on our streets, you can still see me adopting stray dogs. I FED HOMELESS KIDS! Remember my kind smile brightened by the sun, or the flash of a camera, helping cats stuck on trees. I'm gonna leave a lot of footage for my memorial, but you see, it's important that you remind people that I, a good guy, have done all these things.
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Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 8:18 PM UTC
I'm the Good Guy, Duhh
Share with me your words Make me know the face The gaping hands the sunkissed skin The unwashed hair the broken feet Though not enough (my will still evident) There is another way- Make me Thomas and ask but thrice That I may explain a doubt yet compromised: That a fancy took a man To pardon villains and condemn the saved Adopting eleven (add a twelfth for foster care) then spurning more First the rich, then his junkies And any prone to bore He demanded death to dare refrain Not from himself, but from the dead To leave the weary to his hands and the broken to his feet. And the rest is simply religion. So I must question (my doubt detailed) That such a man as this could praise your name and call you Father. That he would tread Calvary alone To claim you goodness, kindness, self-control To be the scapegoat for your sins To be the price upon your head and die and live again. And still, you let the world devour itself to darkness. And still, you suffocate this faith. This mustard seed. So I bargain this: Let also the diffident move mountains Let also the lost find shelter Let also the dead have hope As once was promised. And then only then will I call upon Your name and wait.
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Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 5:21 PM UTC
Sight