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"ameliorating" poems
drowned the Earth suddenly.   underneath honest light,                                   all    submerged. this cataract of feeling — waters pursue beginnings. cradling them to unknown ends, washed by the shore.         gluttonously the night swallowed all — parliament of birds warble no longer.              midnight, the   Moon claws the supple skin of organized stone   displaced                where all the edges bloom forth torrid froth of dappled light which kills no less than a brief life of matchflame. tenuous spar of wind on the unserious twilight; bulge of death in the stream — a body haul, rafting   in compost; stench of all topple like resins held loose in vats. rat **** becomes            as inviting as moulding bread; tantric music for no instrument, hoarse cries unbeheld —             until the flesh no longer flounders pressed against sleep-shaped youngness hewn lissome in the hours of no succor,        modeling silence in the thrill of this enthusiastic space,            hands scouring muddied   obscure, atremble,       shadowless hours fill stomachs with the plump word of rescue yet none   of these fingers unwished the ingenuity of dull gods — this twilight   nor twinight could ever grive in forethought, striking bells to signal birds          to arrive again so we could feast in  silver  fish, with bare hands scaled to callouses,            looking at it twice-over, this battered yolk of whiteness, with deeds of the viridian    now atrill in new fragile woodworks        lurching and          ameliorating as we all     stutter and sing        haunts dabbing open   lips of small wounds that    wish to shut quietly,   almost every threat of gray     or pummel of    wind startles the flyblown ornate,       hurrying us back to cornerless homes where all photographs washed away,     very few hang                swayed by verdure   of the gradual throne of sea         curving perpetually the several stars we have ignored for a while,      where everything quite begins     again to enthrall with a melodic   leitmotif of the most tender of        instances loose             in mouths                  and in endless recall                                                                   breathless—
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
Rat **** As Inviting As Molding Bread
drowned the Earth suddenly.   underneath honest light,                                   all    submerged. this cataract of feeling — waters pursue beginnings. cradling them to unknown ends, washed by the shore.         gluttonously the night swallowed all — parliament of birds warble no longer.              midnight, the   Moon claws the supple skin of organized stone   displaced                where all the edges bloom forth torrid froth of dappled light which kills no less than a brief life of matchflame. tenuous spar of wind on the unserious twilight; bulge of death in the stream — a body haul, rafting   in compost; stench of all topple like resins held loose in vats. rat **** becomes            as inviting as moulding bread; tantric music for no instrument, hoarse cries unbeheld —             until the flesh no longer flounders pressed against sleep-shaped youngness hewn lissome in the hours of no succor,        modeling silence in the thrill of this enthusiastic space,            hands scouring muddied   obscure, atremble,       shadowless hours fill stomachs with the plump word of rescue yet none   of these fingers unwished the ingenuity of dull gods — this twilight   nor twinight could ever grive in forethought, striking bells to signal birds          to arrive again so we could feast in  silver  fish, with bare hands scaled to callouses,            looking at it twice-over, this battered yolk of whiteness, with deeds of the viridian    now atrill in new fragile woodworks        lurching and          ameliorating as we all     stutter and sing        haunts dabbing open   lips of small wounds that    wish to shut quietly,   almost every threat of gray     or pummel of    wind startles the flyblown ornate,       hurrying us back to cornerless homes where all photographs washed away,     very few hang                swayed by verdure   of the gradual throne of sea         curving perpetually the several stars we have ignored for a while,      where everything quite begins     again to enthrall with a melodic   leitmotif of the most tender of        instances loose             in mouths                  and in endless recall                                                                   breathless—
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All that I need, all I've wanted for years, and even during the lost times, you were pressed under my skin like pure, warm aching. Had to go through it, we say now, had to lose each other entirely then to be heavenly entangled now. Such great heights only after sunken deep lows. Let me tell you, angel, I am certain you were made for me, and goodness, believe me, I could never leave. We stood the test of time. We endured the distance. We have conquered demons. You and I fought a ****** war, and hell if we didn't win it.
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Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
titanic redamancy. ameliorating cingulomania. ineffability.
I am an accumulation of stories, An amalgamation of myself and others, Shared experiences lessening cultural differences, Secrets and fears; My own and those I hold near. Joy and Sorrow; What I say today may not hold true Tomorrow, I am not constant I am ever-changing, Adjusting, evolving, ameliorating, Tomorrow, I am the people I met Today And part of the person I left behind Yesterday What I am is Who I am, A correlated concept, every day an elevated stand.
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Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
The Storyteller
I desire to create, What remains unperceived, Unrepairable faith in it's authentic self, Unscathed by anothers opinion or morals, Their hopes and desires, The birth of such a rebellious idea remains unearthed, I want it raw, But God despises it, The idea of being challenged, So all left of my thoughts is the binding vision of tomorrow, A vision of hope, That ensues an ameliorating repercussion on my mental capacity, Concluding the idea of a saviour, And Of my passion and greed, Greed to learn something I shall never master,
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Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 1:45 PM UTC
Crux of my being
The immersion of oneself in another beleaguers mind body and soul; ameliorating one's aplomb...engulfed
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Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
Baptized
Guilt & Shame, Exhaustion, Doubts & Failure I’m capable of grief, regret and feeling sad. But is that guilt? And is guilt bad? Knowledge that the one responsible is you, However caused: From innocence or ignorance, Naiveté, unworldliness, The mess created to put other(s) in a stew. Perhaps it is. In the stillness of decision, From a willingness and will, Rejecting guilt, dismissing shame, Taking culpability in name of karma, (though I’d never harm a fly on purpose), If I’ve done a something to a someone, I will have to pay back someone sometime, Try to form and glue a future, integrated, sutured me, New belonging and identity; Acquiring a philosophy to lean on: A new frame, new name, rules of the game Ameliorating guilt and shame. They write about this all the time Have done it since the start of Any kind of written art - In prose, in picture and in rhyme In life, in death, with every breath, Mistakes corrected to reach truth Uncovered and un-smothered, Reaching out that truth to other. Through the spittle, Perhaps victual Of the title I reach out to you. Guilt & Shame, Exhaustion, Doubts & Failure 5.7.2017 Circling Round Egos; Nature Of & In Reality; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin
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May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
Guilt & Shame, Exhaustion, Doubts & Failure
He plays himself With a mask like soaked clay And faux tears on-command, All you can do to cope with the hindsight Is to say you were brave for sticking with it When you weren't brave enough for the alternative, Voice like a whisky-croak and words that Ring of sweet nothings but really mean nothing at all. Blood on the carpet. Never coming off And never failing to remind you of what you did and didn't do wrong. You figured you'd make boredom into something Less important but the meaning of any philosophy Is dependant on the day and the weight of the past it carries-- **** it Bassline stranded on the boderline, that is to say Stuck and unfixable. That's part of growing, right? Dealing with it and moving on, forming a character From a tortuous pantomine; doing the impossible in Ameliorating light strictly with the tools given to you by the dark room you were raised in. Rise or sink. It was out of your hands, your actions moving forward Is all that has to matter now. Just hold on until tomorrow.
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Jul 19, 2020
Jul 19, 2020 at 11:24 AM UTC
Troubled mind begets regrettable actions
The last time there was time there was none. Pushed and pulled I am the ameliorating clay I am the Sun, I am the Stars, I am Solar System Glue. It's I for all and none for me.
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC
Tirado 647
Ethereal__ my mind has gone far; Which I wish to distantly observe and inform, Very far beyond the precincts of this material world. Politics, time, gender violence or what? My head is scattered and I don't know what to write. But the effigy of a damsel silhouettes adamantly upon my imagination; The bearer of this shape, Permanent upon my clairvoyance consciousness Has a gentle soul_ laden with solace_ Radiating towards my scattered head, Ameliorating the spontaneity there in; To stray no more, and beckoning my dissipated psyche back home. Of a damsel, the silhouette pleasantly speak of LOVE And I cannot but write love; So as to tell you there's solace in love.
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 3:00 AM UTC
The Gentle Soul and Solace