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"aimlessness" poems
I am darkness I am light, I am chaos I am might, lies and truth unite, Fear and bravery, envy with hatred and love finally combined, I am the difference between illusions and dreams, nothing as it seems, Nightmares and mirrages, a realm of infinity and finite by its means, I am fusion and fission, with one simple yet very complex misssion, Energy and indolence, a wall, another fence, questions upon answers If small lies give rise to grand falsities, what is the truth gonna bring ? A place where you should be able to feel reality and fantasy's sting, Apathy and concern unite, come closer I don't really bite, trust me, My teeth look sharp, yet they are blunt, you can rant or stay calm, I am a living death wandering yet standing still, does it make you ill? Generosity and greed are both present while they are missing, still! Control the lies of your uncontrollable tounge, listen to the silence, Could we possibly agree that this unanimity relies in total dissension? I am the discouragement for your precious, little yet pure intentions, Aimlessness for hope of a future unexplored yet near enough to grasp I am the rue in pride, a lamp without light, elusive but not transient, A harmonic ramgage, riots over the horizon in undefined dark light, I am malevolent and benevolent, bent yet straight, right behind you, What am I ? ~ Umi
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Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Inexplicably Undefined
it seems whenever i read of these monumental astronomical events annular or total eclipses planets in alignment a radiant of meteors as grand in magnitude and meaning as hyperbole will allow that i am never able to truly witness or fully appreciate the wonderment that others have claimed these spectacles always occur on the other side of the planet or at a time of day that makes the divine insignificant mundane and barely noticed despite the significance assigned in theory this clamour for once in a lifetime opportunities will inevitably be missed leaving me with a sense of aimlessness and distraction until i read that experts claim this occurrence repeats approximately every ten or so years
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Apr 21, 2023
Apr 21, 2023 at 6:16 PM UTC
eclipsed
Misgivings taught, fallacies absorbed, perceptions formed, lies endorsed, pain enamoured, hope dormant, meaning strife, decisions diced, aimlessness concise
0
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 2:18 PM UTC
Synítheies
I might just have to accept the fact that your alcohol talks more than you should. Controlling what is the truth and what is less deserving to be shoved under that category, you seem so interesting and perpetually grandiose. I believe someone asked: "what is the point of you?" - I kid you not, I feel the same aimlessness as you see in me. However, far away from your presence, someone needs it. You know this, but then again if you didn't, the difference would still be none what so ever. Not everything needs fixing, except you. You're crying rivers in my bubble world, but they are still not enough to drown us. in other words; je suis onze, je suis ici et je le fais pour toi. 11
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Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 4:08 PM UTC
*********** of the mind
It kills my high when venom is spit This enclosure, unlike mine, comes with a ****** narration Mine hears birds and owls wolves and crickets and bats and sees quite often starlight smells burning wood regrettably the occasional crisp arachnid Commonly scents of Cannabis Sativa, rarely Indica Incense, and punks There are sights of resin tables, half-inflated air mattresses, and ***** on the fence Cling of fence gate Car Cry of relief or adventure heat sleep aimlessness
0
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
Direction
*Liberty perched on a pedestal balancing progress and evil Holding high the palm of peace over those who hold it so dear But peace comes dropping too slowly with all due respect to you, William An unsettled and urgent promise cloistered within vows of possibility Willing victim of romantic culture betrayed by the keeper of souls Romance is no idle distraction Intimacy, a vocation Long afflicted by... the sounds of music the scent of linden blossoms the taste of sea salted skin the feel of sultry midnight air the sight of sun through closed eyes... Dreams once silently withering liberated to wander freely Uprooted from the stagnation of emotionally depleted soil Transplanted to aimlessness where all roads lead to roam Preferring the role of explorer to the vagrancy of a lost soul Strolling through this beautiful city as having traveled throughout life Observing without participation part of a whole yet not wholly a part An accomplished failure on a quest to achieve simplicity of purpose To savor those moments of stray peace that ephemerally cross this path ...all the whilst searching for that bee loud glade*
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
Incarcerated Liberty
I can grant you any wish you want.   I can give you anything you want. I can grant you the knowledge you have been craving for.   I can give you the creativity you have longed for.   I can bring purpose into your life. I can drive away the aimlessness in you.   I can change the nothingness in you Into something altogether different. I can turn your fears into strengths.   I can bring confidence in you.   You just have to make a wish.   You have to make your choice now.   You have to decide how badly you want the one thing.   The intensity matters to me.   I am the most generous yet not the most generous at the same time.   You have to be modest.   Be wise.  Think twice before you make your wish.   You have to tell me why you want it.   If it's genuine, you'll get it.   I am omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent.   I am God to you.   I am your God.   I am everything to you And you are everything to me. Make a wish now forgetting all your fears and failures.   I am ready to grant you whatever you want. 'Coz I'm you and you are me. I am your reflection. I am the ultimate GOD, the only one on this planet, who can change your world.
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May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 4:02 PM UTC
MY STRONG SIDE TO MY WEAK SIDE
step one: do not look at their mouth, for you will expect to see rivers flowing from it, poetry slipping through the space between their lips in the same way that the wind slips through the space underneath a door, but instead you will only see spit and saliva and a tongue too big for its home. step two: do not look at their hands, for you will expect them to craft cities from marble right before your very eyes, but instead it will be just the thumbs, the twiddling of thumbs, the aimlessness, the senselessness, the lack of experience with building empires. step three: do not look at their eyes, for they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and when you see that the curtains have been drawn, you will feel so very alone. step four: i did not love you. you have to repeat it. i did not love you. i did not love you. i did not love you; i loved what i thought you would be. i thought you would be eden, but you were only the apple. step five: i suppose i am to blame here for digging holes too big to fill, for crafting shoes too big to fit in. and for that i am sorry. i am sorry that i expected more from you than i even expect from myself. step six: human. human. let the word roll off and around your tongue, let it cover every inch of the inside of your mouth. say it. over and over again. say it. like it is foreign and you need to know what it means. say it. and when you have said it enough times and it feels dull, old, disappointing, you will know that we are nothing more than flesh and bone, and that as much as we wish there were gods among us, flesh always rots in the end. this is the beast of truth that we cannot outrun. hands cannot craft cities from marble if only given clay. step seven: do not let this frighten you. clay, after all, was meant for molding. (a.m.)
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May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
how to pretend that a person was always a person and never a god
step one: do not look at their mouth, for you will expect to see rivers flowing from it, poetry slipping through the space between their lips in the same way that the wind slips through the space underneath a door, but instead you will only see spit and saliva and a tongue too big for its home. step two: do not look at their hands, for you will expect them to craft cities from marble right before your very eyes, but instead it will be just the thumbs, the twiddling of thumbs, the aimlessness, the senselessness, the lack of experience with building empires. step three: do not look at their eyes, for they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and when you see that the curtains have been drawn, you will feel so very alone. step four: i did not love you. you have to repeat it. i did not love you. i did not love you. i did not love you; i loved what i thought you would be. i thought you would be eden, but you were only the apple. step five: i suppose i am to blame here for digging holes too big to fill, for crafting shoes too big to fit in. and for that i am sorry. i am sorry that i expected more from you than i even expect from myself. step six: human. human. let the word roll off and around your tongue, let it cover every inch of the inside of your mouth. say it. over and over again. say it. like it is foreign and you need to know what it means. say it. and when you have said it enough times and it feels dull, old, disappointing, you will know that we are nothing more than flesh and bone, and that as much as we wish there were gods among us, flesh always rots in the end. this is the beast of truth that we cannot outrun. hands cannot craft cities from marble if only given clay. step seven: do not let this frighten you. clay, after all, was meant for molding. (a.m.)
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57
Hello This is my doing I guess you want me to answer for it I will if I feel like it Some say we all have the same sense of aimlessness And we're preyed on by the leech behind the curtain But I think we've gotten passed that That could be my inner mantra mixed with ***** talking though Turning my back to the confusion only to find that meaning has already found me I look at the leaders, they only can make educated guesses And we'll all know if they did the right thing years from now I've never put my name in the hat for consideration But I know I'll still get called when my turn comes They can touch me and I can't deny what I've said or done But they'll never lay a hand on the ideals and truths that are in each of us I'm beyond grateful for knowing this I may become old I may become ill I may starve and die but my creations will go on for eternity Moments of pleasure Moments of purity I won't name names or cast stones I won't chase paper or fall to my knees for guaranteed safety That's why I'm here, legs crossed and mind silent Spirit centered and flowing free My adoration for the underdogs and stray cats My respect for honesty and curiosity for experimentation Have taught me invaluable lessons Just give me a shot, I know I can make a difference I can see both sides of the fence I can see between the lines of supply and demand I can see the blinks between life and death There aren't many of us but there are more than before Hopeful Pushing for unity and looking for our face, our voice We have our suspicions But more than that we have love
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Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
Precursor
Hello This is my doing I guess you want me to answer for it I will if I feel like it Some say we all have the same sense of aimlessness And we're preyed on by the leech behind the curtain But I think we've gotten passed that That could be my inner mantra mixed with ***** talking though Turning my back to the confusion only to find that meaning has already found me I look at the leaders, they only can make educated guesses And we'll all know if they did the right thing years from now I've never put my name in the hat for consideration But I know I'll still get called when my turn comes They can touch me and I can't deny what I've said or done But they'll never lay a hand on the ideals and truths that are in each of us I'm beyond grateful for knowing this I may become old I may become ill I may starve and die but my creations will go on for eternity Moments of pleasure Moments of purity I won't name names or cast stones I won't chase paper or fall to my knees for guaranteed safety That's why I'm here, legs crossed and mind silent Spirit centered and flowing free My adoration for the underdogs and stray cats My respect for honesty and curiosity for experimentation Have taught me invaluable lessons Just give me a shot, I know I can make a difference I can see both sides of the fence I can see between the lines of supply and demand I can see the blinks between life and death There aren't many of us but there are more than before Hopeful Pushing for unity and looking for our face, our voice We have our suspicions But more than that we have love
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37
Dance to the tune of yesterdays promise Hope for the pay out on another days win, Cast around for that magical formula Knowing that lotto is primarily spin. Frantically poised with high expectations, Ready to pounce on that first lucky break, Keeping the ace card carefully hidden Waste it and you'll be as mad as a snake. What determines the gap between winners and losers, What is the difference in the mode of approach? Is the talent to guess what's round the corner The key to dismantling this realm of reproach? Happiness rests on a knife edge balance Having too many is as bad as too few, Suspicion that others are stealing it off you Destroys you as much as poverty will do. How many fat cats are really ecstatic, How many lie awake in their beds? Tossing and turning, worrying, burning. Suspicion and avarice tormenting their heads. On the other hand poorness is no picnic either, Hardship and hunger are no friends of mine. Destitution and cranial aimlessness.... Lost to the world and a great waste of time. So what have you got? What is the answer? Go for broke and ****** the cost? Walk over your mates and live with the consequence Or hold back and join the legions of lost? As I walk through the valley of death I ponder, Lost in this web of lust and intrigue, Am I coming to terms with greed and confusion Or going backwards and starting to bleed? Marshalg At the Gate Mangere Bridge 4th January 2008
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Oct 13, 2009
Oct 13, 2009 at 11:54 PM UTC
Going Backwards
i'm anxious for an early grave an expressway to the pearly gates or a laundry chute to the furnace flames any burning faith that i can claim- like yearning for a puppet string, i'm addicted to the dangling- salivating for that suspension heaven help me make these hard decisions because the aimlessness of atheism is weighing down my weakened limbs as it beats me til i'm bedridden or confines me to the casket's grip.
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Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 4:31 AM UTC
godhead
Listen to the howling wind Not a whisper in the voice of it An embodiment of all the aimlessness And the chaos which was once within This heaving chest And beating heart Which is now outside Cold and lying bitter still   And howling like mother nature had tanned its hide Listen to such a wind as this And you will understand what it is And what it means to be trapped inside such bitterness As the howling wind does speak of it
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
That Howling Wind
Age 5 There we sat, you in criss cross applesauce, I sat on my chicken legs. I remember your small curls didn’t come past your ears As we slurped our apple juice and gabbed on about Harry Potter. Our stubbornness and entitlement matched. Age 7 I remember the day you told me that we were growing apart. You told me that I wanted to grow up too fast for you, I think it was my lipstick that did it. We grew separately. Age 13 Six years past, and we had finally matched up again. Growth and maturity was as similar as it could be, But now I needed to be something for you: A specific mixture of contentment, judging, intelligence and a spirit that we both always wanted. 15 You were blossoming before my eyes, I felt as though I owned some part of that, we were close knit and joyous. We belonged together again. You didn’t like the strange boy who came into my life, you neglected my heart he resided in, I moved things around to make you room but again, it wasn't enough. 16 Effort was engraved in my voice, I wanted our mismatched souls together again. I felt as though I was begging on my knees for our unconventional love. Do you remember our fight? Where I believed we were finally expressing enough to progress to a real level. I realized the aimlessness of trying to affect you. 17 There were still spurts of hope in us, but finally I cut the chord, I doubt you noticed. Even our glances I struggled to make sure were not glares. Then the miracle moment, you stand next to me and speak the empty words, “How are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while.” In the same voice I sculpted to not sound desperate. You spoke it effortlessly with no substance, that right there was when I truly understood we just never matched up.
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
Never Matching Up.
Age 5 There we sat, you in criss cross applesauce, I sat on my chicken legs. I remember your small curls didn’t come past your ears As we slurped our apple juice and gabbed on about Harry Potter. Our stubbornness and entitlement matched. Age 7 I remember the day you told me that we were growing apart. You told me that I wanted to grow up too fast for you, I think it was my lipstick that did it. We grew separately. Age 13 Six years past, and we had finally matched up again. Growth and maturity was as similar as it could be, But now I needed to be something for you: A specific mixture of contentment, judging, intelligence and a spirit that we both always wanted. 15 You were blossoming before my eyes, I felt as though I owned some part of that, we were close knit and joyous. We belonged together again. You didn’t like the strange boy who came into my life, you neglected my heart he resided in, I moved things around to make you room but again, it wasn't enough. 16 Effort was engraved in my voice, I wanted our mismatched souls together again. I felt as though I was begging on my knees for our unconventional love. Do you remember our fight? Where I believed we were finally expressing enough to progress to a real level. I realized the aimlessness of trying to affect you. 17 There were still spurts of hope in us, but finally I cut the chord, I doubt you noticed. Even our glances I struggled to make sure were not glares. Then the miracle moment, you stand next to me and speak the empty words, “How are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while.” In the same voice I sculpted to not sound desperate. You spoke it effortlessly with no substance, that right there was when I truly understood we just never matched up.
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43
I reside in shallow desires, That have burned to ashes, A mere swine swindler and a mime, Are my traits to define, Exhibiting aimlessness, I watch the stars align, And for God to show me a sign, Like a River sullen in misery, Knowing it will have to fit In a pond, I besiege my reach, And so I preach, My heart to not have it's way, Now as a pond, I reside without a say.
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Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 4:16 PM UTC
Pond without a say.
The boxer has so much rage Pacing to and fro in within the safety of a cage She is bright, mighty and powerful on the stage Where all wild inclinations can be un-caged Her brain burns violent red Her anger originates from her head In the grasp of aimlessness she lay in her bed In the grasp of torture she wishes to have her pain bled Maybe if she could see pain in her opponents eyes She would understand why We all have this inclination to fight Why we become ruthless and inhumane through the darkness of our life If she caused someone else to bleed Maybe she could conceive the victory With her punches--In making someone small With her kicks--In making someone fall Being kicked down, beat, and unwanted Is all she ever knew from birth to now She just needed to understand her existence somehow Picking fights on the street isn't allowed So she chose to fight an opponent for a crowd.
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Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
The Boxer
Not the aimlessness Indecisiveness Or the constant lack of questioning No None of that But I’ll always remember her raven hair in a spiral stair And the jealousy in her sister’s eyes
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Memory
was it right and just the wrong time? or was it wrong? did i break it, or just bend it? should have i begun it? should i ever have ended it? the fact of asking questions makes me think i know the answers I still wish i could be with you. I am sorry for what i have put you through. I know i am forgiven. That is not my worry or my hurt. My hurt is in the dashing of what we had upon the rocks as if it was an infant, and i just couldn't take care of it, or it was sick, but it was a beautiful child, and i will miss it, even though i never really knew it. I feel even now, as if in my aimlessness, my direction, my weakness, in my search for truth, and  the strength to make the  change i know i need in myself, I am only destroying any and every inkling, of anything that's left, if there is any at all with each breath, with each kiss, with each time i try to fill this place you fit. with each time i try to move on, or distract myself, i fear i give up my future, the one i know God wants for me. Yes, he is sovereign, and if it is meant to be it surely will, but, i can't help but wonder, can't help but feel if i can thwart it, that i broke it. What have i done, and what have it done it for? yes there is love but, love like pearls on the floor. I keep trying to pick them up. What can i do but try to see their luster through the dirt? What can i do now that i have figured out what they are worth?
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Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
What have i done? And what have i done it for?
i just hope and pray to find My Shams, or the Khizar to my Shams, before i dock eternally before the circle starts again. for All i see blinds me the more i see blinds me give me a Khizar to show show me a Khizar to give All i live, is a want to love. All i want is,a love to live take my boat, take my star be my boat be my star. don,t let me float aimlessly this aimlessness let Shams Be. ---Tuesday, August 31, 2010
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Khizar to Shams
chirp-i-derp chickadee! flee across the sea with me to seek foreign fantasies, we won't need anything but our hands our feet our lips reaching. kick the dust up and make a ruckus, we were born to spit fire. funny thing, desire, always takes you into the inferno, burning the whole, cleanse and resew the form from hollowness. in all of this we are but sand in the wind, minuscule molecules floating on the whims of something much greater. so I plan on claiming myself, and naming myself captain. I plan to trust my intuition to bring all my wildest dreams to fruition. because what is life worth if I concede to to bow and serve the scemes of men who believe they deserve to hold power over me - HA! as if anyone could mold me hold me fold me up into cookie-cutter slots. I spit on you! catch me if you can, big brother, you might take my body but you'll never touch my soul, she's already soaring through saturn's rings, slinging sapphires round to isis and winking at the moon, being rewoven through the mother's loom, knit back into the cosmic womb. now begin again.
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
decisive aimlessness
i don't like loving you because you are so flawlessly human. you breathe like anyone else, with faults, & rough edges, and your face isn't karmic, (like his was) our connection isn't fate, (i don't have the heart to believe in such whimsical ideals anymore) we're just having fun, for the time, for the night, for the moment, your curls lace my fingertips to your scalp grounded with no fantasy. i don't like the meandering of my soul right now, i like you, i like enjoying this, but i don't like the aimlessness of this: i miss karma, and spirits, and souls i am tragic & this love is too sane
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
1night1life (finite)
I awake each morning With fresh hope And tranquility; I might go for a saunter Down quiet London backstreets... Soon my aimlessness Depresses me, And I realise I'd been deceiving myself As to my ability To relax as others do. I decided on a Special B Before the eve. I bought a lager At the bar And chatted to Gaye. Then Ray Bought me another. I appreciated the fact That he remembered The time he, His gal Chris, And Cary downed An entire bottle Of Jack Daniels In a Paris-bound train. A tanned cat Bought me a (large) half, Then another half. My fatal eyes Are my downfall. I drank yet another half... My head was spinning When it hit the pillow; I awoke With a terrible headache Around one o'clock. I prayed it would depart. I slowly got dressed. I was as chatty as ever Before the exam... French/English translation. Periodically I put my face In my hands or groaned Or sighed - My stomach was burning me inside. I finished my paper In 1 hour and a half. As I walked out I caught various eyes Amanda's, Jade's (quizzical) etc. I went to bed; Slept 'till five; Read O'Neill until 7ish... Got dressed, And strolled down To Golders Green, In order to relive A few memories. I sang to myself - A few memories Flashed into my mind, But not as many as I'd have liked - It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same. Singing songs brought Voluptuous tears. I snuck into McDonald's Where I felt at home, Anonymous, alone. I bought a few things, Toothpaste and pick, Chocolate, yoghurts, Sweets, cigarettes And fruit juice. Took a sentimental journey Back to Powis Gardens, Richness And intensity, Romantic And attractive, Sad, suspicious and strange. I sat up until 3am, Reading O'Neill, Or writing (inept) poetry. Awoke at 10, But didn't leave My room till 12, Lost my way To Swiss Cottage, Lost my happiness. Oh so conscious Of my failure, And after a fashion, Enjoying this knowledge.
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Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
The Wanderer of Golders Green
I awake each morning With fresh hope And tranquility; I might go for a saunter Down quiet London backstreets... Soon my aimlessness Depresses me, And I realise I'd been deceiving myself As to my ability To relax as others do. I decided on a Special B Before the eve. I bought a lager At the bar And chatted to Gaye. Then Ray Bought me another. I appreciated the fact That he remembered The time he, His gal Chris, And Cary downed An entire bottle Of Jack Daniels In a Paris-bound train. A tanned cat Bought me a (large) half, Then another half. My fatal eyes Are my downfall. I drank yet another half... My head was spinning When it hit the pillow; I awoke With a terrible headache Around one o'clock. I prayed it would depart. I slowly got dressed. I was as chatty as ever Before the exam... French/English translation. Periodically I put my face In my hands or groaned Or sighed - My stomach was burning me inside. I finished my paper In 1 hour and a half. As I walked out I caught various eyes Amanda's, Jade's (quizzical) etc. I went to bed; Slept 'till five; Read O'Neill until 7ish... Got dressed, And strolled down To Golders Green, In order to relive A few memories. I sang to myself - A few memories Flashed into my mind, But not as many as I'd have liked - It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same. Singing songs brought Voluptuous tears. I snuck into McDonald's Where I felt at home, Anonymous, alone. I bought a few things, Toothpaste and pick, Chocolate, yoghurts, Sweets, cigarettes And fruit juice. Took a sentimental journey Back to Powis Gardens, Richness And intensity, Romantic And attractive, Sad, suspicious and strange. I sat up until 3am, Reading O'Neill, Or writing (inept) poetry. Awoke at 10, But didn't leave My room till 12, Lost my way To Swiss Cottage, Lost my happiness. Oh so conscious Of my failure, And after a fashion, Enjoying this knowledge.
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100
Babies are sleeping in silver cradles; cats roam with a certain aimlessness that only the night can detect. Mist mingles with the undulating smoke of dying fires, with my warm breath caught in the darkness of the air -- languid voices whisper and I remember the color of your eyes.
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 12:06 PM UTC
Noir
Drifting to unconsciousness is the only cure to my sickness these sullen nights. Images overflowing my eyes—taking control of my mood and feelings. Images of the way your lips introduced themselves to mine; gentle at first, but oh so sweetly. And our faces visualized themselves into the nerves behind my eyelids; the system they took to search for each other, melding like the ingredients of two hot medals pressed into one another. I wish I could find some sort of approach to escape reality and relive those moments—even if it is only a few seconds, mere seconds could inspire me for the entirety of my remaining hours. People say that the ocean or the moon is the most beautiful thing your eyes can see, or even how the seven wonders of the world had gone unchallenged throughout the realm of time as the undisputed champion of allure; but darling, you’re selling something to me that I’ve never experienced. True beauty is watching fireworks explode in broad daylight hidden in the tiny, blue veins of your eyes. Watching your snow covered teeth chatter when you shiver in the cold, a reminder to hold you closer than i ever thought would be possible. The music your mouth makes as you giggle when my lips near yours, how could someone turn away something so vulnerable, so innocent, so pure. Even as I type these words, I have to take pauses. I get lost in the way your hands ran their way across my body, following the blueprints of some grand city—a city I wanted you to create. The night’s hours ran dry like the drinks previously consumed; twisted drunk love was the only love i wanted to ever experience for the rest of my days. The ocean waves reminded me of your voice, so quiet when they wanted to be and so demanding when they had to be. They would take me out with the pull of the current and I did nothing to stop them—even encouraging the rift. I wish that you saw me the way I saw you, though. A cosmic masterpiece created with the finest stars at disposal; a grand creator had some sort of divine conviction when designing and constructing her ultimate purpose. Time had its way of disrupting our affairs, but the universe commanded the blending of two free souls—aimless in their motives. Aimlessness had found resolution? Only time can tell. How ironic. Sleep knowing my dreams are of sun sets and watching headlights reflect from window to window with your hand pressed firmly against my lips, love.
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Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
Cosmic
Drifting to unconsciousness is the only cure to my sickness these sullen nights. Images overflowing my eyes—taking control of my mood and feelings. Images of the way your lips introduced themselves to mine; gentle at first, but oh so sweetly. And our faces visualized themselves into the nerves behind my eyelids; the system they took to search for each other, melding like the ingredients of two hot medals pressed into one another. I wish I could find some sort of approach to escape reality and relive those moments—even if it is only a few seconds, mere seconds could inspire me for the entirety of my remaining hours. People say that the ocean or the moon is the most beautiful thing your eyes can see, or even how the seven wonders of the world had gone unchallenged throughout the realm of time as the undisputed champion of allure; but darling, you’re selling something to me that I’ve never experienced. True beauty is watching fireworks explode in broad daylight hidden in the tiny, blue veins of your eyes. Watching your snow covered teeth chatter when you shiver in the cold, a reminder to hold you closer than i ever thought would be possible. The music your mouth makes as you giggle when my lips near yours, how could someone turn away something so vulnerable, so innocent, so pure. Even as I type these words, I have to take pauses. I get lost in the way your hands ran their way across my body, following the blueprints of some grand city—a city I wanted you to create. The night’s hours ran dry like the drinks previously consumed; twisted drunk love was the only love i wanted to ever experience for the rest of my days. The ocean waves reminded me of your voice, so quiet when they wanted to be and so demanding when they had to be. They would take me out with the pull of the current and I did nothing to stop them—even encouraging the rift. I wish that you saw me the way I saw you, though. A cosmic masterpiece created with the finest stars at disposal; a grand creator had some sort of divine conviction when designing and constructing her ultimate purpose. Time had its way of disrupting our affairs, but the universe commanded the blending of two free souls—aimless in their motives. Aimlessness had found resolution? Only time can tell. How ironic. Sleep knowing my dreams are of sun sets and watching headlights reflect from window to window with your hand pressed firmly against my lips, love.
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