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"albiet" poems
fell into a hole of myself-- i know too much a bag of cheetos in an ill-fitting suit runs the country - made the mistake of reading what it had to say awhile ago all in the stirring of a feather my ego, my ignorance smattering albiet aggressively in an annoying aggregate, dog-bark bird-squacking grating my effing ears these 7am mornings
0
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
i annoy myself, ha ha ha
I always wrote bung-ee before, it made more sense with the context, you are stretching the rope, it is adding to your acceleration, you are, possibly, falling. My darling friend, it is not the momentum of the rope I was warning you against. Although I wonder what metaphor that could take. No, I was warning you about the fall. Period. Albiet I warned with an unconscious mind. For I was falling too. No, I did not jump. I shall not take that credit. (Not because I am above it, but because others who read here know I did not jump). But we both fell anyways. We fell for fictional men. We fell for fictional beasts. And we fell for boys. Good luck to us both. May we never get used to the fall. May each jump feel more strongly than the first. May we never be that hurt that we are too scared to jump again.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Bungee side effects
Miserably, I'll cling to the fading moments I spent with you in my bed. Fed up with things ending too early, I'll constantly be fending for those soft touches and empty hushes. Empty. What a word to describe how I feel knowing you'll be gone by Sunday, without waiting for me to heal. Monday will come and my heart will shudder. Flutters, that soft, delectable feeling that I felt in my stomach will drop and stop, halting all pleasantries. Finish me off with one last kiss, Make me miss you until I fade from the confusion. The pollution that you have caused to build up in my chest Best be worth the final touches you caress onto my skin. Sin-fully, I'll compare your clear brown gaze to the murky lust, dirtied by others. I wonder if you ever had any room under your covers. I wonder if I ever had any pull on you, ever. Never, Ever will I ever want to weather that weather-y storm you've measured with buckets of rain painfully, locking onto my chest glued to my teeth Mistaken. Misled. My soul feels erasably unfed. I bled. I bled. I ******* bled when you held me in my bed and the words of your utter denial Cried out between us, causing a separation I wanted nothing to be with. God, just three weeks. That's it. Three weeks, peaking my emotions to their utter, serene, intoxicating HIGH. My, what kind of magic have you poured into my veins. I didn't think you could ever be the cause of this much Pain. Wait. I didn't want to be another one. For me, I've always been the detached one. The one with a dismissal attitude, a missile of self-confidence and independence. Impermanence was all you were ever offering. While I always was offering you my everything. Foolishly, albeit. Albiet, foolishly. I'll be it. I will be it. I swear it. I'll be yours. But **** it, you don't need it. So? Now what? ... I'll go back inside and recreate that tall, thick wall of utter strength and unwavering singularity. Single. No more tingle in my bones, woe me. Woe is me, all right. Hope for me, that I can fight with all of my might. If only I had the power to push you away before it's too late, before I hate even a cell of that specific date. May. Thirteenth. SUNDAY.
0
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
Sunday
Miserably, I'll cling to the fading moments I spent with you in my bed. Fed up with things ending too early, I'll constantly be fending for those soft touches and empty hushes. Empty. What a word to describe how I feel knowing you'll be gone by Sunday, without waiting for me to heal. Monday will come and my heart will shudder. Flutters, that soft, delectable feeling that I felt in my stomach will drop and stop, halting all pleasantries. Finish me off with one last kiss, Make me miss you until I fade from the confusion. The pollution that you have caused to build up in my chest Best be worth the final touches you caress onto my skin. Sin-fully, I'll compare your clear brown gaze to the murky lust, dirtied by others. I wonder if you ever had any room under your covers. I wonder if I ever had any pull on you, ever. Never, Ever will I ever want to weather that weather-y storm you've measured with buckets of rain painfully, locking onto my chest glued to my teeth Mistaken. Misled. My soul feels erasably unfed. I bled. I bled. I ******* bled when you held me in my bed and the words of your utter denial Cried out between us, causing a separation I wanted nothing to be with. God, just three weeks. That's it. Three weeks, peaking my emotions to their utter, serene, intoxicating HIGH. My, what kind of magic have you poured into my veins. I didn't think you could ever be the cause of this much Pain. Wait. I didn't want to be another one. For me, I've always been the detached one. The one with a dismissal attitude, a missile of self-confidence and independence. Impermanence was all you were ever offering. While I always was offering you my everything. Foolishly, albeit. Albiet, foolishly. I'll be it. I will be it. I swear it. I'll be yours. But **** it, you don't need it. So? Now what? ... I'll go back inside and recreate that tall, thick wall of utter strength and unwavering singularity. Single. No more tingle in my bones, woe me. Woe is me, all right. Hope for me, that I can fight with all of my might. If only I had the power to push you away before it's too late, before I hate even a cell of that specific date. May. Thirteenth. SUNDAY.
Continue reading...
69
“Sorry”,they said, “No matter how many times, You shook your head, Provided with all the necessities, Now move ahead. No matter what you say,no matter what you feel Now get up and be brave, With time,all your wounds may heal You wouldn't be taken care of, So better look for your own meal There wouldn’t be a lullaby singer;make it a habit now There wouldn’t be anyone to wake you up, You have to adjust anyhow, And don’t be a mischievous kid, Now take a faithful vow. Come to us now;it's time for goodbye, They said they’ll love you like we both, Albiet it’s a lie. But you have to be independent now, Go son! It’s a goodbye”.
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
It's a goodbye
A sunrise beckoned me In contrast, to flee An invitation earnestly endorsed for lengthened had I lingered a bona fide friend lucidity it had painted and a landscape captivating Drop by drop, had I rendered sightless Bestowed with priceless emotions deluged you, with intentions distilled, truly were for you did capture them at the rise The once limpid scenery, opaque, visionised today the yellow smudged a sunset to betide A panic swelled within, a grave slip-up implemented for I strived to ameliorate it Albiet, Versimilitude solicited distance I failed to proffer you with, as the intent, stainless and a heart devout remorse, shall lie etched for the landscape entailed not remedy though, the desire for your understanding was all I stipulated
0
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 12:46 PM UTC
From sunrise to sunset
the rain came down in torrents i grew jealous and sped home as fast as i could on two legs, two wheels one flimsy frame when i got there, i was here and i opened the door to find i had nothing to fear the house was empty the windows boarded up, and the sink leaking as though it were laughing at my predicament i dug my nails into my skin, punctured a few loose veins and let the blood do it's thing,-- look pretty, embrace the floor, and spread like wildfire through the cracks of the porcelain skin i fell to my knees and wailed until the wolves howled for silence to return to me and it did but not without fighting my screams the noises in my head refused to cease, and so this continued on for days, months, maybe even weeks until my beard grew and sheltered me from putting anything in my mouth my ribcage felt like the talons of a hawk clawing to get out i wasn't me anymore; the me she loved and adored instead, i was much better, albiet much worse than ever before i became the nightmare i wanted to be and sank in this reverie until i could no longer feel hunger
0
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
how it came and went
*when i was a child* at night i used to see shadows dart across the walls in the gutters of our streets it wasn't till i got older till i finally met those creatures and called them by name some of them have passed; some of them still live to this day we don't get together as much as we used to but those filthy, albiet, gorgeous creatures still live at the bottom of my heart where the waste of my mind goes
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Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
gutter trash
i can already tell you that diacritical distinctions does exist in the english language... (olde english) albiet / (modern english) although it's well hidden, for starters there is a good example of an acute u (ú) popping it's "ugly" head from the edenic camoflouge: e.g.? pút... otherwise known as the double omicron in pool - varied within púll... oh **** me, invoking the germanic ß (grapheme) was always going to attract attention... given anglo-saxons are cousins with bavarians, swabians or pomeranians - if ever a prussian print would exist, we'd find that they're the fourth leg of a dog that queer in linguistic terms... the other three oddities? finns, estonians and the hun(garian)s... i'm still at odds of discovering all the particular diacritical examples (distinctions) in english, since no example of such an instance being apparent, unravels itself into a universally consistent expression... try applying diacritical marks to each and every english word... even j. joyce didn't mention this "adventure" in his undeservedly omitted work finnegans wake... but it is an adventure nonetheless... for there are instances in english, when applying diacritical marks is, frankly? all-too blatant: your eyes start twitching, your fingers start itching, your tongue has a crap dangling off it, implying: walk side-ways for once, off the beaten track of pop trend.
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 7:14 PM UTC
discovering diacritical marks in english
imagination you said lives somewhere between dream and reality but what if that imagination shared experienced Is real it was you leading, wanting, encouraging be careful to understate imagination intentional sharing albiet apart in the physical realm are nonetheless real nor imagined and now although I may never again feel that way With you I am happy and grateful to now know The one thing the only thing that matters that which I have always known And that is what it would feel like, for me With you
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
imagination
I want to write you and say That I've never stopped loving you. I want to write you and demand that you see me so that I can see that The love I have for you now is stuck. Is the love that I had for you The last time I saw you The last time you saw me The last time we kissed. I want this to be over. I want to know that I can stop writing About how I can't let this idea go. The ship has sunk and Part of me watched it go from the safety of shore but Part of me is still inside of it Sitting Comfortably, albiet a little fidgety, Listening to the clock tick tocking away my years, My loves, My partners, Envisioning that one day you'll come scuba diving down Down Down To find me here, where we both know I've been Waiting. I want to write you and say That I've never stopped loving you. Maybe putting the message in a bottle Releasing it into the water that surrounds me And watching where it floats to Will set me free from this sunken ship too.
0
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
ocean floor