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"amung" poems
Ang amung kahayag sa balay punu ug pangaliya ug pagmahal. Siya ang naghatag ug kahayag sa amung dalan nga gitungha arun dili masala-ag. Iyang kahayag mihatag ug kainit nga punu sa gugma. Apan, wa damha Na upus na ang iyang kahayag Ug usa nalamang ka asu nga hinay-hinayng Nahanaw. Napawng. ubanan sa Kangit-ngit.
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
Ang Amung Kahayag sa Balay
Personal happiness applys a standard to move forward. On a pessimistic note, as it sets a willful mind off track in fear of mistakes, separation resets our procrastination entitled to self loath for regrets. You set yourself up for failure. As we refrain counting back the steps of recreational substance abuse, it's just asking for counter clock-wise reenactments. On a positive note, foreseeing a common continuum of false thoughts that manifest as it resets. A realization amung the powerless cause a brave forsight continued in conduct to bewilder a disappointment on a controlled lack of ongoing self destruction. We have to have enough self respect for selfishness to look what's in front and forget what's behind us. Help is on the way in a matter of how you portray your feelings. We control it by a friends mission to seek what's missed. We get over it, with a mother kiss. Hope for the best is all we can admit. Hit or miss, love is in us, as we walk the plank of faith. Like a prom queens gown that doesn't fit or a stain on a wedding dress. Our imperfections are what made us perfect. Lazy skills in double vision cause a second opinion. We call for an ambulance to cure a broken heart we all get in this lifeless jungle we live in. When the doctor we call for has nothing but a dollar sign with no intentions for a death wish. We trust this, "why not? What's the worst that could happen believe me bull **** Trust me and my degree, but in the first stage of having a healthy baby you learn to trust a crazy sinerio in a **** testing community. We are raised in this blind sighted society as walking zombies. One heart beat turned into separation anxiety. So I drink beer, as I'm always giving out my writings, like a discount on sale. Like a kitten we pet, I share them and do nothing with it. I wonder why I feel what I have to say means nothing like a decoration. When my friends truly relate, with a bottle in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. I don't know what to do with them in the end of a conversation. I will say I like what I have to say, but it's just that it goes nowhere. Just me adding a another selfless crime to reset our minds of how we read in between the lines.
0
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
Phylicia's Opinions On Kittens
Personal happiness applys a standard to move forward. On a pessimistic note, as it sets a willful mind off track in fear of mistakes, separation resets our procrastination entitled to self loath for regrets. You set yourself up for failure. As we refrain counting back the steps of recreational substance abuse, it's just asking for counter clock-wise reenactments. On a positive note, foreseeing a common continuum of false thoughts that manifest as it resets. A realization amung the powerless cause a brave forsight continued in conduct to bewilder a disappointment on a controlled lack of ongoing self destruction. We have to have enough self respect for selfishness to look what's in front and forget what's behind us. Help is on the way in a matter of how you portray your feelings. We control it by a friends mission to seek what's missed. We get over it, with a mother kiss. Hope for the best is all we can admit. Hit or miss, love is in us, as we walk the plank of faith. Like a prom queens gown that doesn't fit or a stain on a wedding dress. Our imperfections are what made us perfect. Lazy skills in double vision cause a second opinion. We call for an ambulance to cure a broken heart we all get in this lifeless jungle we live in. When the doctor we call for has nothing but a dollar sign with no intentions for a death wish. We trust this, "why not? What's the worst that could happen believe me bull **** Trust me and my degree, but in the first stage of having a healthy baby you learn to trust a crazy sinerio in a **** testing community. We are raised in this blind sighted society as walking zombies. One heart beat turned into separation anxiety. So I drink beer, as I'm always giving out my writings, like a discount on sale. Like a kitten we pet, I share them and do nothing with it. I wonder why I feel what I have to say means nothing like a decoration. When my friends truly relate, with a bottle in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. I don't know what to do with them in the end of a conversation. I will say I like what I have to say, but it's just that it goes nowhere. Just me adding a another selfless crime to reset our minds of how we read in between the lines.
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32
This day was an absolute Wonder for me I saw all of my Friends i’ve been Dying to see the Sun shined so bright, i could Hardly Believe This place is for Me, i don’t want to leave From the Time i layed eyes on their Smiling Faces I couldn’t stop thinking how Perfect this place is, The energy is Love that is floating amung Us So small on a map, But in our Eyes, humungous This place is My World, it is where i Belong, These Freinds are my people, our Bonds, so strong i’ve been around the World now, and Still do i feel that In This place, the love that I feel, This is real.. Through sharing these Days with my Freinds, We Reveal This Laughter, This Love, This Life... This is Real.
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 1:33 AM UTC
real
i open my eyes to all the silent flakes falling ever so gracefully, amung the dusty mountain peaks. icy friends lay on my eyes, my hair, the ground happily melting away into frozen nothingness. it is cold, but i find comfort, in natures snowy blanket and as I gaze up from my place on the ground, i grow sleepy, and my eyes close. Just as i drift off to sleep, winters cold breeze whispers it's mystic melody that seeps into sleeping ears of every living creature around. everything is quiet, as it first was, in the very beginning. *No time to wait, just sing. No one to listen, just play.* And so, nature begins its song. +
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
Winter, i hear your song
I was born from the trees My roots grow for miles I am a child of the sun And i live be the moon My friends are flowers And i blossom with colors I will grow throughout my life And i will die amung the trees They will cut me down like i was dead, They will harm my flower friends They will destroy my roots And take away my sun, my moon But i will still be here, My leaves flowing through the wind I will plant my seeds and grow again.
0
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
Flower Child