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"aground" poems
Feeling desperate oh so desperate Another sun down And I’m run aground. The wind carries me, Forcing me, forcing the corners of my lips once up to frown. Tell me I’m beautiful. Tell me I’m **** Tell me I can be all of your fantasies. Because every time I touch myself I still feel empty.
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Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
F M E
The world is losing Gravity, But no one can escape, We're hurtling on our petrie dish In a gel that seals our fate; Gravitating Towards black holes; They're closer than you think. In China There's a wall of dust, Seen clear from outer space; Our living waters die In a legacy of disgrace. We're citizens Wearing masks; We should hide our faces, But we're running daily tasks. We're fossils burning Fossil fuels Found in cremation gas. The amphibians Are on the fringe; Whales can't sound, They run aground. It's an environmental slaughter. Our world has lost Some gravity. We need to plant our feet, But  charnel fires And greenhouse gas Have hastened our retreat. Migrating birds lose sense of time, Confused by the lights. The morning dove coos at night, The nightingale at dawn; We're like New turtles muddling, Under lost starlight. We must grasp The gravity Of burning Burning  light.
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Our World is Losing Gravity
by Sara L Russell (2003) "Who is this goddess?" Whispered the sun, As the moon traversed the sky, "This angel, silent as a nun, This silver dragonfly?" He moved in for a closer gaze, His heart began to speed, As through a misty, cloud-spun haze, He watched the moon proceed; Soft silver tresses graced her brow, Her dress, mother-of-pearl, billowed like sails on a dream-ship's prow, or curved tsunami-swirl. "Oh Lady Moon" murmured the sun, "I burn, I swoon for you. "Come let me kiss you, gentle one, Before night passes through." "Come languish in my warming arms, To music of nightjars, Come let me taste those subtle charms, Dear lady of the stars." "Ah, do not court frivolity" He heard the moon reply. "My purpose is to steer the sea And yours to light the sky;" "Why, if I languished here with you, Tall ships would run aground, And you must light each day anew Or all nature confound." The sun-god would not be deterred, But kissed her trembling lips. As they embraced, no sound was heard Throughout the first eclipse; Waves lay as mirrors where they kissed, Until they drew away, To drift back into heaven's mist, As night melted to day.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
The Sun, The Moon and Love
1454 Those not live yet Who doubt to live again— “Again” is of a twice But this—is one— The Ship beneath the Draw Aground—is he? Death—so—the Hyphen of the Sea— Deep is the Schedule Of the Disk to be— Costumeless Consciousness— That is he—
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8k
Those not live yet
A ship in a bottle is a useless thing, encapsulated, isolated. It is meant to be crewed. We are each holographic captains seeking first mates and yeomen to climb the riggings and guide us through the storms. Floating colonies needing founding, battened hatches guarding dwindling stores and shielding superstitious sailors galore. We must learn to trust our crews and captains alike to brave the rough seas and coral reefs of life and nature's faith. Sometimes ships run aground, the founding of the colony, and then sandcastles reign supreme. We must learn to trust our crews and captains alike to learn from their faith in nature. We must build upon the dunes, carrying buckets of water and trust from the sea to inland shores.  The castle, like the ship, will one day be reclaimed by the sea, despite our efforts. We build them anyway out of hope, fearing faith, learning trust, while wishing we were safe in a bottle.
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
Exploration
Looking up, seeing you again It makes me feel so tired. Here you are to ruin another day How can I ever be inspired? Now every time I see you makes me wish I was blind. Because you stimulate no peace of mind. You make me feel You make me feel You make me feel Like a ****** old woman! Years ago, you and I ran aground Wiping out on love's breakers I tried to fix things, tried to wake you up But all pleas fell on deaf ears. Sometimes a couple can turn into a joke Impossible to fix something so badly broke. You make me feel You make me feel You make me feel Like a ****** old woman!
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
YOU MAKE ME FEEL...
You look like you could use a drink Heavy pour of whiskey as you sit down and think Seems your mind is on the brink While all the other ships around you sink High tides and heavy goodbyes I can see the emptiness in your eyes Stick around longer, we can all get high Our minds are destined for the sky Familiar faces now enter the space You forget why you were in such a dark place Add a splash from the tap just in case Makes it all easier to chase The window is open so don't sit around The breeze will help push you when your ships run aground The laughter in the air is an uplifting sound Seems what you're searching for has finally been found -AJT
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Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 12:14 PM UTC
Window or the Whiskey
The world is losing Gravity, But no one can escape, We're hurtling on our petrie dish In a gel that seals our fate; Gravitating Towards black holes; They're closer than you think. In China There's a wall of dust, Seen clear from outer space; Our living waters die In a legacy of disgrace. We're citizens Wearing masks; We should hide our faces, But we're running daily tasks. We're fossils burning Fossil fuels Found in cremation gas. The amphibians Are on the fringe; Whales can't sound, They run aground. It's an environmental slaughter. Our world has lost Some gravity. We need to plant our feet, But  charnel fires And greenhouse gas Have hastened our retreat. Migrating birds lose sense of time, Confused by the lights. The mourning dove coos at night, The nightingale at dawn; We're like New turtles muddling, Under lost starlight. We must grasp The gravity Of burning Burning  light.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
Our World Is Losing Gravity
Texting somebody close to you, Gossiping, Chatting, OMGees are all flying around, LoLs flooding your tiny box, Yet you're determined to stay aground. I always have wondered why to limit, Why to cap English or inhibit, Replacing good ol’ words with some wicked text, Emoticons they call, Insipid, dull, and sluggish, Emoticons they’re called. Although indolence has reached its bounds, And although my vote is utterly trifling, Admit it, Concede it, Conclude it, Emoticons’ presence should be abolished.
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May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 7:30 AM UTC
A Chatting Rant
Half circle waves crash into themselves on the shore wipes the slate clean as they rush back to the deep Where Amphithrite cradles them to her breast and collects the imprints of lover’s footprints before she sends them out again If I jump ship and the tide draws me close to your heart, will you keep me safe in the circle of your arms Will you extinguish the lighthouse’s glow so the pirates can run aground on jagged rock buried in a sailors grave where no roses grow When all is done and the storm has gone will you walk with me on the shore my love close to the clean slate of the water’s edge Where the the waves can collect our footprints and carry them to Amphithrite’s breast
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Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 9:10 AM UTC
Amphithrite's Breast
The Sun, The Moon and Love by Sara L Russell, 2003 "Who is this goddess?" whispered the sun, As the moon traversed the sky, "This angel, silent as a nun, This silver dragonfly?" He moved in for a closer gaze, His heart began to speed, As through a misty, cloud-spun haze, He watched the moon proceed; Soft silver tresses graced her brow, Her dress, mother-of-pearl, billowed like sails on a dream-ship's prow, or curved tsunami-swirl. "Oh Lady Moon" murmured the sun, "I burn, I swoon for you. "Come let me kiss you, gentle one, Before night passes through." "Come languish in my warming arms, To music of nightjars, Come let me taste those subtle charms, Dear lady of the stars." "Ah, do not court frivolity" He heard the moon reply. "My purpose is to steer the sea And yours to light the sky;" "Why, if I languished here with you, Tall ships would run aground, And you must light each day anew Or all nature confound." The sun-god would not be deterred, But kissed her trembling lips. As they embraced, no sound was heard Throughout the first eclipse; Waves lay as mirrors where they kissed, Until they drew away, To drift back into heaven's mist, As night melted to day.
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Sep 1, 2009
Sep 1, 2009 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Sun, The Moon and Love
When I was just a little lad I never knew my mom and dad My big brother was my hero. He raised Pidgins as a hobby. One day he upped and promised me a pidgin of my own. Oh goody. One day a storm blew into town and blew his pidgin coop aground. The sole survivor of the storm was one pathetic squab. Here little brother says my sib.He's yours. so I fed him,and built a nest for him, and hugged him, and pet him, and loved him. He was me and I was he my little buddy Pete. and every day I wouldn't stop to play but run home to my Pete. Oh my brother George is my hero. One day I ran home to my Pete and found no sign of him. I asked George where my Pete boy was. He said he had no clue. I found out later That sum-bitch sold Pete. That rat ******* sold my pidgin.
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Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 4:05 AM UTC
Indian Giver - In Pidgin
I have thought of you in this sticky heat in my self-imposed exile Half asleep, feeling broken in my bed that is an empty sailboat i blindly wave out my hands and smash them into the softness of your body because i need better proof that you are real i woke up three times today each time, choking like i had been held at the bottom of the sea with weights on my ankles only to break surface and see that the air is still salt water we talk of anchors of heavy weights that keep us run aground i stand on your anchor, feeling the sharp points dig into my feet wrap my arms around the cold metal from the distance i’d like to look like a mermaid with twin tails\ but i am a sailor, straddling the difference between earth and water i have thought of you in this sticky heat i have wanted to sweat out my misery with you soaking the sheets with salt water and when i wake up drowning you would press to my mouth the bruises i gave you in my sleep the only dry land between us
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Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
my bed that is an empty sailboat
The world was never going to end in fire. It was never thought to. Now. Thunder comes on. The raincoat boleros around the street. Momentous, One two slow slow one two. Earth splits / an avocado, molten core discarded. In the southern hemisphere they are waving flags. Complimentary colors crawl up the sky tiding in. They are dancing. Ba-cha -ta, Me-ren-gue. Their hemisphere Charybidises, trees genuflected. Quiet. The puddles are sleeping. In the north. The hemisphere has run aground. It capsizes. All the bands are going down playing. Rain panics off the timpani prisming. The brass cherubs in the clouds. The strings red shift. At the equator, an umbrella floats: 1 bird inside it. She prays in single syllables. Help. Please. Quack!
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Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
The Umbrella
You are the roast beef I have purchased and I stuff you with my very own onion. You are a boat I have rented by the hour and I steer you with my rage until you run aground. You are a glass that I have paid to shatter and I swallow the pieces down with my spit. You are the grate I warm my trembling hands on, searing the flesh until it's nice and juicy. You stink like my Mama under your bra and I ***** into your hand like a jackpot its cold hard quarters.
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2.8k
Buying The *****
Peter built a paper boat Which he could float about the sea To hidden spots of lonely coast Where not a ghost or man would be He painted words along her bough That soon would plough and skip and trot Between the waves that rose and falled The boat was called 'Forget Me Not' He bid his wife a fond goodbye The tide was high when he embarked He drifted from his tiny cove While weather drove and seagulls larked He set his course horizon bound For solid ground of ****** shore As darkness came he made a bed To keep his head above the floor The voyage took him straight and true Across the blue, toward the sun But soon a tongue of lightening spat And thunder rattled like a gun The waves encircled hungrily And angrily about their prey The tempest heaved with no regret It blew Forget Me Not away He found himself all caked in sand And on a strand of desert beach Forget Me Not had run aground But safe and sound from tidal reach He folded down his paper yacht And found a spot to build a home But saved the sail and rudder strings To forge some wings and daily roam He glided high and long and wide Past mountainside and shore to shore And through the night he forged a blade And with it made a lumber saw He felled the trunk and snared the beast And cooked a feast to celebrate The rain it sought to disagree But quick was he to remonstrate The moonlight waxed and waned apart And on his heart a longing formed For home and his beloved bride For fireside and there be warmed And so he took the house he'd made From humid shade of seldom oak He set the island to his aft And cried and laughed the words he spoke They matched the words he'd lately hewn Beneath the moon in shady spot He carved into that seldom tree 'Remember me, forget me not'
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Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
Peter's Paper Boat
Peter built a paper boat Which he could float about the sea To hidden spots of lonely coast Where not a ghost or man would be He painted words along her bough That soon would plough and skip and trot Between the waves that rose and falled The boat was called 'Forget Me Not' He bid his wife a fond goodbye The tide was high when he embarked He drifted from his tiny cove While weather drove and seagulls larked He set his course horizon bound For solid ground of ****** shore As darkness came he made a bed To keep his head above the floor The voyage took him straight and true Across the blue, toward the sun But soon a tongue of lightening spat And thunder rattled like a gun The waves encircled hungrily And angrily about their prey The tempest heaved with no regret It blew Forget Me Not away He found himself all caked in sand And on a strand of desert beach Forget Me Not had run aground But safe and sound from tidal reach He folded down his paper yacht And found a spot to build a home But saved the sail and rudder strings To forge some wings and daily roam He glided high and long and wide Past mountainside and shore to shore And through the night he forged a blade And with it made a lumber saw He felled the trunk and snared the beast And cooked a feast to celebrate The rain it sought to disagree But quick was he to remonstrate The moonlight waxed and waned apart And on his heart a longing formed For home and his beloved bride For fireside and there be warmed And so he took the house he'd made From humid shade of seldom oak He set the island to his aft And cried and laughed the words he spoke They matched the words he'd lately hewn Beneath the moon in shady spot He carved into that seldom tree 'Remember me, forget me not'
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did you, even now, hope to shut your eyes to so huge a crime, my treacherous one, to think you could stilly withdraw from my kingdom? did our love not once hold you? our ardent vows? or even I, Dido, preparing to succumb barbaric death? how could you, callous you!, take wing to prepare your fleet in winter —i’m sure to run aground— when Boreas thrashes against the heavens? but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil or incited to father a distant nation, if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war, would you keep piercing the wave-washed oceans in your armada? why do you elude me; is it because i have acceded irreality? am i worthless, now?—i implore you! by these tears, and your troth, by our wedding vows, and this oath before ***** we began: if i deserve anything good from you, or if you think, i was good enough for you; pity this household decaying before us! it was once yours, too. and if my prayers are still yours, gut them from my mind! for now the Libyans and Numidians hate me! dear Tyre is virulent! as my honour and once-righteous stature has vanished, just as i was about to touch my constellated infamy. for what destiny, my foreign one, do you set me aside; ever-knowing my imminent death? seeing that only your name endures from this union, why do i bother to keep living? am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine? if only you gave me a son, a little Æneas to play in my courts, a boy to remind me of you; only then, perhaps, would i not be so utterly violated, and consumed.
0
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
quis fallere possit amantem?
did you, even now, hope to shut your eyes to so huge a crime, my treacherous one, to think you could stilly withdraw from my kingdom? did our love not once hold you? our ardent vows? or even I, Dido, preparing to succumb barbaric death? how could you, callous you!, take wing to prepare your fleet in winter —i’m sure to run aground— when Boreas thrashes against the heavens? but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil or incited to father a distant nation, if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war, would you keep piercing the wave-washed oceans in your armada? why do you elude me; is it because i have acceded irreality? am i worthless, now?—i implore you! by these tears, and your troth, by our wedding vows, and this oath before ***** we began: if i deserve anything good from you, or if you think, i was good enough for you; pity this household decaying before us! it was once yours, too. and if my prayers are still yours, gut them from my mind! for now the Libyans and Numidians hate me! dear Tyre is virulent! as my honour and once-righteous stature has vanished, just as i was about to touch my constellated infamy. for what destiny, my foreign one, do you set me aside; ever-knowing my imminent death? seeing that only your name endures from this union, why do i bother to keep living? am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine? if only you gave me a son, a little Æneas to play in my courts, a boy to remind me of you; only then, perhaps, would i not be so utterly violated, and consumed.
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48
This is the last time I write about ships; the mighty seafarer, clasping in the deep. The last time the esoteric tides capriciously change their erratic minds, left torn between rousing up to fight and solemnly crawling into the shapeless night. I’ll haul, I’ll haul. Outward bound, I’ll haul away from the safety of the buoy, through a thousand spiralling knots, batten aground and set anchor upon the recondite bay. I’ll avast the journeys where the compass takes an unprompted turn, where celestial proves consort to nautical woes, awoke awash amidst the darkened shallows. This is the last time I go back and fill vast depths, bearing right, then left, across the beating breadth.  This is the last ring of brash audacity resonating in chime with the gull’s hooded pride, the last of the salt and sway commandeering the longitude of each tumultuous ride. I’ll roll, I’ll roll. Hanging on behind, I’ll roll with the salted souls of Nelson and Hook as they furl and collide, hand over fist, drawing the curtains from their chariot’s majestic height. I’ll gybe and set back to sail, quarrel with the rushing sands, and grace every fractured notion that tooth and nail can siege the devil’s rest and forge currents capable of hustling both vessel and man. This is the last of the gallant endeavours, set adrift from buccaneer’s voyage to a solitary pulse at the end of storm’s tether. This is the last stern embrace of Poseidon’s harrowing howls, the last of the rapturous applause mordant as it rises and swirls, the last time I wrestle away from his scaly hold. This is the last time I change tack and set course into the path of the sound, where finally, the tides settled I’ll release control of the helm.
0
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Seafaring
This is the last time I write about ships; the mighty seafarer, clasping in the deep. The last time the esoteric tides capriciously change their erratic minds, left torn between rousing up to fight and solemnly crawling into the shapeless night. I’ll haul, I’ll haul. Outward bound, I’ll haul away from the safety of the buoy, through a thousand spiralling knots, batten aground and set anchor upon the recondite bay. I’ll avast the journeys where the compass takes an unprompted turn, where celestial proves consort to nautical woes, awoke awash amidst the darkened shallows. This is the last time I go back and fill vast depths, bearing right, then left, across the beating breadth.  This is the last ring of brash audacity resonating in chime with the gull’s hooded pride, the last of the salt and sway commandeering the longitude of each tumultuous ride. I’ll roll, I’ll roll. Hanging on behind, I’ll roll with the salted souls of Nelson and Hook as they furl and collide, hand over fist, drawing the curtains from their chariot’s majestic height. I’ll gybe and set back to sail, quarrel with the rushing sands, and grace every fractured notion that tooth and nail can siege the devil’s rest and forge currents capable of hustling both vessel and man. This is the last of the gallant endeavours, set adrift from buccaneer’s voyage to a solitary pulse at the end of storm’s tether. This is the last stern embrace of Poseidon’s harrowing howls, the last of the rapturous applause mordant as it rises and swirls, the last time I wrestle away from his scaly hold. This is the last time I change tack and set course into the path of the sound, where finally, the tides settled I’ll release control of the helm.
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4
How could he know this new dawn's light Would change his life forever? Set sail to sea but pulled off course By the light of golden treasure Was he the one causing pain With his careless dreaming? Been afraid, always afraid Of the things he's feeling He could just be gone He would just sail on! He would just sail on How can I be lost? If I've got nowhere to go? Searched the seas of gold How come it's got so cold? How can I be lost? In remembrance I relive And how can I blame you When it's me I can't forgive? These days drift on inside a fog It's thick and suffocating This seeking life, outside it's hell Inside intoxicating He's run aground like his life Water much too shallow Slipping fast, down with the ship Fading in the shadows Now a castaway Blame all gone away! Blame gone away How can I be lost If I've got nowhere to go? Search for seas of gold How come it's got so cold? How can I be lost? In remembrance I relive And how can I blame you When it's me I can't forgive? Forgive me Forgive me not Forgive me Forgive me not Forgive me Forgive me not Forgive me Forgive me, why can't I forgive me?! Set sail to sea but pulled off course By the light of golden treasure How could he know this new dawn's light Would change his life forever? How can I be lost If I've got nowhere to go? Search for seas of gold How come it's got so cold? How can I be lost? In remembrance I relive So how can I blame you When it's me I can't forgive?
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Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
Unforgiven 3 - by Metallica
Drop the rocks Full-grown pop in the jaw Bleeding gold Won't save your soul Moving again and again and again and again Until the pacific Closes behind your back because criticism smacks kids out of whack Morphemes-phonemes again and again Given the knowledge of a recycling bin of letters Use them again and again Won't save your soul Atom smash logic replaying and playing before your eyes Some days it's too much coal to mine Mouth covered when you step in time Won't make your life I'm a goner if I can't stand on the rocks and if the laundry doesn't burn If the grim reaper doesn't speak nonsense words from one state of consciousness to the other Drop the bomb Call the mob Stock our shelves Grow the letters Feed all those starving tongues Let me tell you a story Once the grim reaper dressed like an old woman and bought denture cream just to know how it feels to grow old A human is an animal Some think an olive is a fruit A dog is a wolf on the inside Begging to learn the trick Speak Next in line most wait for straight prose pinch their noses misguided Want blood to bleed red Don't want ideas to smash their bread Won't save their minds from a punch in the gut Mine closing in their faces and their Atlantic drowns shattered glass encasing words upon words owned by streams of Consciousness running all around Those nonsense words running aground can't swim though all the world's frowns.
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Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Nonsense Words
the echo of you holds me an anchor i lie strangled aground
0
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 2:08 AM UTC
echo
I once arose before the dawn To seek a reason to go on I kissed the rising sun just for fun And set out on my merry way It might have been a Tuesday now I saw the grazing Holstein cow A ship that had run aground it's bow But no reason for this beautiful day I walked along the concrete streets I talked to strangers in bare feet I queried everyone I'd meet But no one could give me the OK I swam across the snake filled river I took bee's honey with a dibber It made my stomach ache and quiver So I lay down on the sands by the Bay A horseshoe crab came racing by He had no time for my questions why Then I spied the hermit crab go sly As he withdrew deep into his shell Then the porpoise jumped and laughed When I was quick to ask They flashed off and left me daft To the questions that I quelled A sea turtle stroked on through Eating up the jellyfish they do But his conceit just left me blue When he told me to go to Hell I raised up my eyes to the air Seagulls were flying everywhere But they left white in my hair That's when the hammer hit the nail I then knew the secret to life There would no longer be all that strife Confusion was cut in two like a knife I drew my gun and the seagulls fell So the answer is , Don't let anyone **** on you
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
The Secret To Life
Butterflies dance around Creating fate ever so Even with the screaming sound As if we are spellbound We are all actors in a show Butterflies dance around They have our fate aground It cannot be changed, oh-no Even with the screaming sound No control on the battleground Best to lay as a willow Butterflies dance around Memories with us turn brown People always come and go Even with the screaming sound Life is never fully bound Have faith in will even though Butterflies dance around Even with the screaming sound.
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
Butterfly Effect
~ *You're an island in the anodyne brisk. You're a holm of lonesomeness. Your divers in deep diorama sink like boats. There's coins and clothing and troubling notes left by a female passenger imprisoned on watery shore. Run aground, you harbor regret, and speak in tongues of folklore. If I had an ocean I'd give you to it.* ~
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Feb 8, 2024
Feb 8, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
Those Who Rush Across the Sea