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"amiss" poems
Lying beside you I know everything's right it really doesn't matter if it's the day or the night, because as long as we are together and nothing is amiss together we shall live in a sorrow less bliss.
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Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 2:59 AM UTC
Bliss
Never try to trick me with a kiss Pretending that the birds are here to stay; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. A stone can masquerade where no heart is And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay: Never try to trick me with a kiss. Our noble doctor claims the pain is his, While stricken patients let him have his say; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis, The old maid in the gable cries all day: Never try to trick me with a kiss. The suave eternal serpents promise bliss To mortal children longing to be gay; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. Sooner or later something goes amiss; The singing birds pack up and fly away; So never try to trick me with a kiss: The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.
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23.4k
Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss
What is our life? The play of passion. Our mirth? The music of division: Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be, Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy. The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is, Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss. The graves which hide us from the scorching sun Are like drawn curtains when the play is done. Thus playing post we to our latest rest, And then we die in earnest, not in jest.
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20.7k
What Is Our Life
you make a wish upon a star but little do you know another being, far away is wishing on it too perhaps there is the slightest chance both wish for one same thing like ending hunger, poverty lack of education or economic stability but each of us will take the time wishing for our own all i know is human nature differs prayer from a wish when we pray, we ask that god bless all that is amiss but when we wish upon a star all thought for others leave we wish only for ourselves its what we've come to be.
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
.if only stars would fall on Sunday
No no no, this isn’t one of those commendable confessional rants of redounded reality. We all know where that goes and what it leads to. This rhetoric comprises solely of the faulty intuitive comprehension and the ******** behaviour people have while under the influence of the poor man’s **** That could be mistaken for a typo. Xeno-meph, would be what aliens are called if they did this too. Extended warranty of your sinus cavity is a must. And a mouth guard so you don’t churn away at the capricious calcium that are your teeth. Smoke and dance till lungs and legs collapse. Talk like you’re the spokesperson for an oil company that’s pillaging life and land. Change your personality in a minute and become the ****** you always wanted to be. That smart talking, **** wagging, ***** licking, *** ******* back stabbing, self serving, worthless piece of **** is now you, but it doesn’t feel like that to you. Rational ******** your only reprieve. Keep doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again hoping the outcome will change. But you’re cool. You’ve done this before, it’s solvable. A break. That’s all there’s to it. The itch in your nose has stopped. Your jaw doesn’t hurt. You don’t feel like **** but you know somehow that something is amiss. Things are not what they seem. Sense doesn’t make itself. The dark is your sanctum. Fast is your peace. That’s not a typo. The world cannot slow down for you. You have to speed up. Another gram, another line, another lie. Control is what you say it is. Handles are what your stomach has. Fast forward a few months and you don’t have a handle on anything. You don’t feel down, you feel fine. Nothing’s wrong But just another fall, and you’re straight out of line. Justify! Justify! Justify! Listen, keep listening… Talk! keep talking! Everything makes sense. Everything is a sense. The difference is that I’m faster, quicker, sharper. I’m handicapped. Leverage is my mind, broken and blind. I wish that was a typo.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
From Meth-head to Madness
No no no, this isn’t one of those commendable confessional rants of redounded reality. We all know where that goes and what it leads to. This rhetoric comprises solely of the faulty intuitive comprehension and the ******** behaviour people have while under the influence of the poor man’s **** That could be mistaken for a typo. Xeno-meph, would be what aliens are called if they did this too. Extended warranty of your sinus cavity is a must. And a mouth guard so you don’t churn away at the capricious calcium that are your teeth. Smoke and dance till lungs and legs collapse. Talk like you’re the spokesperson for an oil company that’s pillaging life and land. Change your personality in a minute and become the ****** you always wanted to be. That smart talking, **** wagging, ***** licking, *** ******* back stabbing, self serving, worthless piece of **** is now you, but it doesn’t feel like that to you. Rational ******** your only reprieve. Keep doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again hoping the outcome will change. But you’re cool. You’ve done this before, it’s solvable. A break. That’s all there’s to it. The itch in your nose has stopped. Your jaw doesn’t hurt. You don’t feel like **** but you know somehow that something is amiss. Things are not what they seem. Sense doesn’t make itself. The dark is your sanctum. Fast is your peace. That’s not a typo. The world cannot slow down for you. You have to speed up. Another gram, another line, another lie. Control is what you say it is. Handles are what your stomach has. Fast forward a few months and you don’t have a handle on anything. You don’t feel down, you feel fine. Nothing’s wrong But just another fall, and you’re straight out of line. Justify! Justify! Justify! Listen, keep listening… Talk! keep talking! Everything makes sense. Everything is a sense. The difference is that I’m faster, quicker, sharper. I’m handicapped. Leverage is my mind, broken and blind. I wish that was a typo.
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Presently convinced my mind has gone amiss. Where from me, betrayed, does my current filter lay? Under the stars? Over the moon? Locked away in complacent solitude? I refuse to wonder, or dream, or wander. I must do what I can with this joke of a hand.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Unknown.
On the ferris wheel we steal a kiss, careless zeal, no bits amiss, slip into this, mind and timelessness, twist wrist, spit lip like starshine, crisp. Down below the kids get lit, ripped, hair wind flipped out, broke mouths sip doubt, shout fire-light, ice pout, grown out the hometown, grown loud, a fun crowd, one's got the know how, the others got the low down, one shot the sheriff, then the others hit the ground. When he shot the sheriff he kneeled, we saw it from the ferris wheel.
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Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Hometown
Here's a verse to make you laugh! You make me feel like an urban giraffe, With a fabulously long neck, What to do with that, by heck? I see you far above the madding crowd, Respect from afar is allowed, I send you my feathered breath, What do you do with that, by heck? Did you know a giraffe can kiss? For you, I pray nothing goes amiss, A verse to you, sealed in bliss..... I see you, far above the madding crowd, Is respect from afar allowed?
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May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
THE URBAN GIRAFFE....
There’s no other choice but to wear them, The drawer offered nothing but these. An odd pair of socks might be quirky, Odd sizes don’t normally please. The one at my ankle was spotted, The other was striped to the knee The latter two sizes the smaller, The former quite large by degree. This mismatch I thought to keep secret And cover the dissonant pair. I chose from the wardrobe some trousers And shoes, with considerable care. My ruse would conceal the divergence From prescribed social standards of dress And none would be any the wiser My discomfort I’d have to suppress. Now, it’s harder to mask discomposure When physical pain has attacked. The small sock had cramped my toes tightly That blood didn’t flow, was a fact. My colleagues regarded me strangely For they could see nothing amiss But I could feel cold perspiration, Anxiety I couldn’t dismiss. It was then that I felt a strange itching, The striped sock began to descend And round my right ankle it wrinkled And bulged at the trouser leg end. Dismayed at my great consternation But clueless to what was awry My friends made comforting gestures Need of which I could only deny. The moral of this story’s transparent Socks are always best worn as a pair Their nature is in the relationship Which provides a well-balanced air. And take the trouble to remember Be congruent in all that you do For disparity will often bring discord And that path, you’ll certainly rue.
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Oct 11, 2009
Oct 11, 2009 at 6:43 AM UTC
Odd Socks
Draped, in a long sleeve shirt, to cover the evidence
 And painting an expression of contentful bliss
 But it is simply an illusion for the sake of others
 Denial the easiest act to employ


 Crimson tears stream down and pool on the floor
 A slight shudder from the sting of the razor’s kiss
 Momentary reprieve from the turbulance in her mind
 This pain her only time of joy


 But the outside world only sees the smile on her face
 A subtle attempt to make it seem like nothing’s amiss
 Her false expression of happiness forever a burden to her
 Because no one wants a broken toy…
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
Broken toys
We fell in love, life was perfect for awhile, Each touch was concentrated sunlight, We'd kiss, I'd taste whichever flavor ***** we drank earlier that night. Turned to you, I needed a friend, Called to vent every day, Time passed by us swiftly, Had my heart, things finally felt okay. Was the perfect romance for awhile But as the summers and winters went by Began to notice the thick haze we lived in, Something different in your eyes. Didn't know what was amiss, Keep me waiting up all night, Though I wasn't sure exactly what it was Knew you were hiding something out of sight. Uncovered more and more incessant lies, Started small then grew, neverending, We sadly floated further apart With each secret text you were sending. Was obvious there was someone else, She took all of your time, I figured you were buying her lots of gifts Because you never seemed to have a dime. Truth is, it was painfully clear, Should have seen it at the start, I was not the only one Owning a piece of your heart. The day I finally discovered who she was, Identity of your seductive sin, Is the day our world changed forever, Your mistresses name was ******
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
The Other Woman
Capricorn the sea goat Equal parts earth and water Emotions rush over like waves; quickly they consume like undertow, dragged into depths of melancholy abyss Determined, we persevere as if nothing is amiss Climbing back atop the mountain in spite of such turmoil, we bury our feelings in the cool dark soil Though sometimes we get stuck in the mud so we wait until it turns to clay Aiming to build solid foundation without delay, forming structure is our forte We’re quite resourceful, I must say! Sure, Saturn’s influence is rough; repaying karmic debts can make life feel so fatalistic It's why we can’t help being so tough; these unexpressed emotions make us want to go ballistic... Just always remember it’s all humbling at the end of the day Such lessons are important for doing whatever we may Really, we wouldn’t have it any other way
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Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Capricorn
When I woke up today, something was amiss, I was expecting sunshine, but I didn't expect this. Snowflake upon snowflake, falling across the sky. I was quickly awake, and I thought I knew why. The calm beauty of snow, it never grows old. It relaxes my mind, and softens the cold. It makes me yearn, for that inner peace. And makes me wish for, Snow, to never cease. 3/24/13
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
Snowfall
On a sheer peak of joy we meet; Below us hums the abyss; Death either way allures our feet If we take one step amiss. One moment let us drink the blue Transcendent air together— Then down where the same old work’s to do In the same dull daily weather. We may not wait . . . yet look below! How part? On this keen ridge But one may pass. They call you—go! My life shall be your bridg.
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5.2k
A Meeting
Her skin was pale Like the moon kissed by a midnight sky Snake-bite piercings Blessed her catastrophic smile Beauty beyond conception Beauty in it's purest form Our lips met in the glow of stagnant stars A moment of serenity Met by utter shock Something was amiss I tasted poison in her kiss Her eyes locked on mine Sinister yet so divine There was no escape As she bit my lip Dropping to my knees She ignored all of my pleas An angel of the night Set on sending me below Tears I need not weep She consoled my every dream She took the life from me Singing lullabies ever sweet I climbed into my coffin The minute her gaze met mine
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Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
Remorseful Silhouette
I give you my heart of glass, shattered Would you take this heart that's bruised and battered? I know you've got the tools to fix it And for your love, I'm desperate I need you like the oxygen we breathe, Produce similar effects when you're taken away from me—choking on sadness, the lack of you leaves me unable to breathe Maybe I'm too needy, but really, can you blame me? It was in my worst moment that you said you would take me You wanted me when no one else did Loved me, replaced the things in me that were amiss You gave me happiness, fixed my trust Is it even possible to love you this much? I'm so sorry for the times I doubt you, but you have to understand It's rare in this life that I'm given the upper hand So it's not your ability I'm doubting, trust me, it's me I **** things up as you've clearly seen I love you I love you I love you oh my God I love you Those three words just aren't enough to express what I hold for you in my heart Regardless, please accept them. They're all I have and they can express even an inkling of what I feel for you. I want to wake up with you by my side every morning for the rest of my life, Just being near you will suffice Drawing circles on your skin while you lay still sleeping And you looking at me with a lazy grin on your face when you wake up and see me—as if I'm the most beautiful thing I want you so much and waiting to have you is torture But I will wait until the day I can finally wrap my arms around you and kiss you hello
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
I'll Give You My Heart
I give you my heart of glass, shattered Would you take this heart that's bruised and battered? I know you've got the tools to fix it And for your love, I'm desperate I need you like the oxygen we breathe, Produce similar effects when you're taken away from me—choking on sadness, the lack of you leaves me unable to breathe Maybe I'm too needy, but really, can you blame me? It was in my worst moment that you said you would take me You wanted me when no one else did Loved me, replaced the things in me that were amiss You gave me happiness, fixed my trust Is it even possible to love you this much? I'm so sorry for the times I doubt you, but you have to understand It's rare in this life that I'm given the upper hand So it's not your ability I'm doubting, trust me, it's me I **** things up as you've clearly seen I love you I love you I love you oh my God I love you Those three words just aren't enough to express what I hold for you in my heart Regardless, please accept them. They're all I have and they can express even an inkling of what I feel for you. I want to wake up with you by my side every morning for the rest of my life, Just being near you will suffice Drawing circles on your skin while you lay still sleeping And you looking at me with a lazy grin on your face when you wake up and see me—as if I'm the most beautiful thing I want you so much and waiting to have you is torture But I will wait until the day I can finally wrap my arms around you and kiss you hello
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The sun shines as I fly; As I fly  high, as I fly low There is a question on my mind 'Where is it that I'm trying to go?' I make some noise, I spread my wings I join my peers in an aimless flight. I ask myself; Where is my purpose? It's not before me. It's not in sight. The eagles hunts the rats The vulture eats what remains The parrot sings with its pretty wings And I sit, in my nest, all grey and plain My friends, my brothers and all the others Never feel that something is amiss We have no role or goal or greater calling Is our purpose just to exist? The humans don't seem to like us Other birds think they're superior We eat worms and spread germs Our other talents are unclear. We sit, We sleep,  We **** We eat An endless mundane routine Sometimes,  I feel there must be more; That our purpose is there, it's just unseen There must be a reason for our creation We can't be such a usless species We're just a nusiance to the world Finding answers won't be easy. My mind is made; I begin my journey. What is my purpose? I must know! Over the trees, the sun sets As I fly high, as I fly low.
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
The Aimless Pigeon
*She put on her lipstick, combed her long blonde hair and looked in the mirror, from a look evolved a stare, searching for something amiss an eyelash, a hair. Anything out of place that ugliness could declare, and what looked back, was all her tear stained blue eyes could see Extinct perfection, a precious face drenched in misery.*
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Perfection
There was a place. There was a time … There, I stood … still unknowing and everything seemed fine. But there in that place … at that moment in time … the moment I saw the eyes, I'd never believed I'd find. Well, what could I say? What could I do? In a world filled with billions … and there … was a you. I'd always known you were out there … even written of something amiss. I never, ever stopped looking for you … because my heart always said that you exist. My breezy Fall became harshest Winter. My crazy life left my health running out. I'd resigned myself that our moment had passed … but this moment … it removed all doubt. Well, what could I say? Tell me, what could I do? There we stood, staring … alone … in a city of millions … yes, there … there was a you. Oh, that mistress fate, she is just so cruel. Frustration, a curse to be mine.    I'd searched for you my entire life … but now … my clock … knows a limit of time. You see, I would never venture a love with you, while knowing I'd have to leave you … hurt and alone. I could only admire from afar … stoic and aloof … while turning my heart into stone. Nothing I could ever say and nothing I could ever do … But now, at long last … at least I finally knew. There, you stood … green seas, gazing up … into skies of blue. My long-awaited revelation … become sorrow-laced realization. There really is … a you.
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Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
Epiphany
Reality That stone cold word That ***** out all your life Reality Is this world With hunger, pain and strife Reality Is when you see That beggar on the street Reality Is when you know That you must admit defeat Reality Is death and loss And not knowing what comes after But Reality Can be fun And filled with joy and laughter Reality Is the time you spent With everyone you love Reality Is lying down And seeing the stars above Reality Is a perfect day Where nothing seems amiss Reality Is your first love Or marriage's sealing kiss Reality Is good and bad Depending how you see it Reality Is what you want If you just have the spirit
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Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Reality
While sitting at a café once a boy of sorts went by. His clothes were bright, he wore a suit a purple, orange tie. He looked around him while he walked and then I caught his eye. His hair was wild and fairly long, his shoes were bright and new. His face was lit up with a smile and said “how do you do?” He waved his hand, his giant hand, the smile quite simply grew. He walked on over, then he sat down on the chair across from me and all my company a friend, his wife, my boss, and handed me a brochure of Learn how to play lacrosse. “The name is Nathan Douglas Day of age I am nineteen. I have thick hair that gets quite gross which then, I have to clean. The knots that form, they almost dread. You do know what I mean? But hair is not all that I am there’s skin and bones and thought, but even then, that isn’t much my weight is almost naught. The mem’ry in my brain is small which leaves much to be taught. The people call me names to do with where they know me from like, Mugbo, or the wanderer, or rang-rang, or Nathan, or Nathan Douglas Day and some don’t call me anyone.” This speech of his, it left me shocked. What kind of life was this, to have more names than anyone from this metropolis? I was so puzzled and confused there was something amiss. I said “Okay…” and looked straight down to where the pamphlet lay and then began to read about Lacrosse and how to play. And Nathan snapped his fingers loud and got a piece of cake. A strawb’rry shake came next and then a plate of biscuits came. he offered them around and said “they all taste much the same.” We ate them all. He sat quite still. I learned about the game. My boss and friend were wondering, who was this Nathan day, this boy who came from nowhere and sat down and seemed to stay? They asked me with their eyes but I did not know what to say. Then Nathan started talking to the wife of my good friend he made her laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh it didn’t end. We all wanted to hear the joke he wouldn’t say again. “Lacrosse seems very difficult” I said to stir the air. “It is” he said “I played it once but now, I would not dare” I wondered then why he would hand the pamphlets out with care. I wondered maybe did he work in trade from door to door. I asked him this and his reply it shocked me even more “I do not hand them out” he said “I found it on the floor.”
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Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 7:49 AM UTC
Nathan Douglas Day
While sitting at a café once a boy of sorts went by. His clothes were bright, he wore a suit a purple, orange tie. He looked around him while he walked and then I caught his eye. His hair was wild and fairly long, his shoes were bright and new. His face was lit up with a smile and said “how do you do?” He waved his hand, his giant hand, the smile quite simply grew. He walked on over, then he sat down on the chair across from me and all my company a friend, his wife, my boss, and handed me a brochure of Learn how to play lacrosse. “The name is Nathan Douglas Day of age I am nineteen. I have thick hair that gets quite gross which then, I have to clean. The knots that form, they almost dread. You do know what I mean? But hair is not all that I am there’s skin and bones and thought, but even then, that isn’t much my weight is almost naught. The mem’ry in my brain is small which leaves much to be taught. The people call me names to do with where they know me from like, Mugbo, or the wanderer, or rang-rang, or Nathan, or Nathan Douglas Day and some don’t call me anyone.” This speech of his, it left me shocked. What kind of life was this, to have more names than anyone from this metropolis? I was so puzzled and confused there was something amiss. I said “Okay…” and looked straight down to where the pamphlet lay and then began to read about Lacrosse and how to play. And Nathan snapped his fingers loud and got a piece of cake. A strawb’rry shake came next and then a plate of biscuits came. he offered them around and said “they all taste much the same.” We ate them all. He sat quite still. I learned about the game. My boss and friend were wondering, who was this Nathan day, this boy who came from nowhere and sat down and seemed to stay? They asked me with their eyes but I did not know what to say. Then Nathan started talking to the wife of my good friend he made her laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh it didn’t end. We all wanted to hear the joke he wouldn’t say again. “Lacrosse seems very difficult” I said to stir the air. “It is” he said “I played it once but now, I would not dare” I wondered then why he would hand the pamphlets out with care. I wondered maybe did he work in trade from door to door. I asked him this and his reply it shocked me even more “I do not hand them out” he said “I found it on the floor.”
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Stand at my door, Young succubus. Give me the passion of a ***** Drench me in your bliss. Addle my silly mind, Make me feel this- Confusion flooding over, Struck by your kiss. Take me to grow old, succubus So nothing will feel amiss.
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
Confusion
Tears crumple to the ground But so do the raindrops And as you can't tell the difference In which one is which One soul gone In a storm of millions Would not ever seem amiss
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
A storms of teardrops
Years later Bathsheba's psychiatrist Was analysing the tryst Between King David And her. It was no tryst Said she. What a slur. He was a ****** And an opportunist. An amoeba would concur Said the psychiatrist That a shower screen And being more demure Would have been Quite spiritually enterprising. You cannot expect Kind David to desist From objectifying your femurs And a cracking pair of amethysts. Don't treat me Like some calculating Hormone Exchange Unit You sexist misogynist. You are not fit To analyse me. You say your name's Freud But you're wholly devoid Of any insight Of what is amiss Or my troubles might be. Not one piece of grit Have you put in my oyster. You obsequious churl I'm a girl you don't mess with. I could have you hung. But instead she dismissed him and booked an appointment With a certain professor Who went by the name of Carl Gustav Jung.
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
Bathsheba's Psychiatrists
Weeping by the Willow Tree Written by Adam M. Snow Who is she adorned in moonlight's veil - This beauty with skin so fragile and pale? I see her within a dream surreal, Weeping by the willow tree. Why does she weep such a woe, Under starry midnight glow? Upon the ground, her tears will flow; Weeping by the willow tree. How can I clearly see? She weeps so tenderly... Will I come to know; can it be, She weeps for me by the willow tree? What can cause her broken heart, That led this dame to hurt? Her hair does fairly touch the dirt; Weeping by the willow tree. A love that's lost should only be, Misinterpreted reality, For she will never be set free, Weeping by the willow tree. A heart's amiss if love is lost - An empty bliss would be the cost. A troubled dream, she would exhaust – Weeping by the willow tree. Every which way the wind would blow, The rustling leaves, the willow'd throw. Akin to willows weep, we know! She weeps by the willow tree. Is she an angel kneeling there? What is her burden that she bear? Certainly there is such grief in the air, Away by the olden willow tree. She veils her face with waterfall tears, Misery held her all these years. With tender hopes and fears, She weeps by the willow tree. The willow tree leaves would sway, As she, on her knees would pray. Every night and every day, She weeps by the willow tree. Alas! It is that she cries for me; It twas I who caused her such sweet misery. I hear her cries, her plea, Underneath the willow tree. I oft wonder what I did to she, And wonder why she weeps for me. In the night I hear the keys - While she weeps under the willow tree. Upon the morn, it occurred to me, That maiden cries out of love for me. And I simply walked past her plea, Not knowing what causes her to weep, Silently under the willow tree. The succeeding night I went to see, That beautiful girl who sits under the tree. I saw her there, but in despair - She hangs from two branches bare. Swinging under the willow tree. http://amsnow.weebly.com
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Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
Weeping by the Willow Tree
Weeping by the Willow Tree Written by Adam M. Snow Who is she adorned in moonlight's veil - This beauty with skin so fragile and pale? I see her within a dream surreal, Weeping by the willow tree. Why does she weep such a woe, Under starry midnight glow? Upon the ground, her tears will flow; Weeping by the willow tree. How can I clearly see? She weeps so tenderly... Will I come to know; can it be, She weeps for me by the willow tree? What can cause her broken heart, That led this dame to hurt? Her hair does fairly touch the dirt; Weeping by the willow tree. A love that's lost should only be, Misinterpreted reality, For she will never be set free, Weeping by the willow tree. A heart's amiss if love is lost - An empty bliss would be the cost. A troubled dream, she would exhaust – Weeping by the willow tree. Every which way the wind would blow, The rustling leaves, the willow'd throw. Akin to willows weep, we know! She weeps by the willow tree. Is she an angel kneeling there? What is her burden that she bear? Certainly there is such grief in the air, Away by the olden willow tree. She veils her face with waterfall tears, Misery held her all these years. With tender hopes and fears, She weeps by the willow tree. The willow tree leaves would sway, As she, on her knees would pray. Every night and every day, She weeps by the willow tree. Alas! It is that she cries for me; It twas I who caused her such sweet misery. I hear her cries, her plea, Underneath the willow tree. I oft wonder what I did to she, And wonder why she weeps for me. In the night I hear the keys - While she weeps under the willow tree. Upon the morn, it occurred to me, That maiden cries out of love for me. And I simply walked past her plea, Not knowing what causes her to weep, Silently under the willow tree. The succeeding night I went to see, That beautiful girl who sits under the tree. I saw her there, but in despair - She hangs from two branches bare. Swinging under the willow tree. http://amsnow.weebly.com
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