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"animalness" poems
We live in a world of noise, of parallel and asymmetric movement, where nonchalance has become the norm. Sweet, melodious and pleasing is our phony makeup. We are animals that reject our animalness. We dread nuclear, secular, red lights, cockroaches, love, threats and non-threats alike. Fear has taken us on its morning stroll, and predictably we bark. (The sun is almost up) We are turned on and turned off by oil-, wind- and hydro-powered switches that respond to clapping. There are beige, mauve and burgundy curtains to choose from, and supersized french-fries, pots, and cars. We have lost ourselves in a mess of options, and strive incessantly to complicate. We fly in formation and flow through carefully placed and beautifully colored rocks made from Styrofoam, down an improbable slope of over-romanticized hypotheses. We are ******** ego-centric and nepotistic, and asexually multiply. Thought and all other wasted rationality keeps the axes of our unsustainable and fanatical wheels from breaking loose (into free space and true autonomy). We create meaning where there is no meaning, and scientifically and thoroughly flout god and the truth, whilst we absorb, photosynthesize, bear fruits and grow leaves (we are still, essentially, vegetable). With every step we go deeper, and faster and better, and farther from our selves. Hence, we barely feel. We are deaf and blind and mute and approximately frozen; and dance, swirl, sing and scream in our vague, whimsical life, till we fall.
0
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
The sun is almost up
We live in a world of noise, of parallel and asymmetric movement, where nonchalance has become the norm. Sweet, melodious and pleasing is our phony makeup. We are animals that reject our animalness. We dread nuclear, secular, red lights, cockroaches, love, threats and non-threats alike. Fear has taken us on its morning stroll, and predictably we bark. (The sun is almost up) We are turned on and turned off by oil-, wind- and hydro-powered switches that respond to clapping. There are beige, mauve and burgundy curtains to choose from, and supersized french-fries, pots, and cars. We have lost ourselves in a mess of options, and strive incessantly to complicate. We fly in formation and flow through carefully placed and beautifully colored rocks made from Styrofoam, down an improbable slope of over-romanticized hypotheses. We are ******** ego-centric and nepotistic, and asexually multiply. Thought and all other wasted rationality keeps the axes of our unsustainable and fanatical wheels from breaking loose (into free space and true autonomy). We create meaning where there is no meaning, and scientifically and thoroughly flout god and the truth, whilst we absorb, photosynthesize, bear fruits and grow leaves (we are still, essentially, vegetable). With every step we go deeper, and faster and better, and farther from our selves. Hence, we barely feel. We are deaf and blind and mute and approximately frozen; and dance, swirl, sing and scream in our vague, whimsical life, till we fall.
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We are all rapists Of the most beautiful women We abuse her body And make her feel less We fill her with our destructive *** To the brim Drip , drip , drip She's gonna explode with our morbid "love juice" We as humans have altered the way we love Instead we destroy and survive We **** like animals Bent over in the street And we keep penetrating her soft curves and harsh waves , her valley like stretch marks And yet She still provides for us She gifts us with the perfect combination of gas To keep destroying and filling her as she closes her eyes and can't fight anymore Until she can't exist anymore and our animalness won't have a place to prosper anymore. ~M.P
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Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
Love juice
It is the woman who succumbs to the temptuous It is the woman who becomes the temptuous It is the woman who bears It is the woman who tears It is the woman who bears again It is the woman who tears again and again and again Bearer of death, bearer of life It is the woman Bearer of girdle, bearer of griddle Animalness, Madness , hysterics, sorceress, torturess Again and again and again New times, new suits Object of pleasure, object of comfort, object of scorn Object of discomfort Purple body, purple heart It is a ****** affair, and a ****** affair again and again Womanhood Guilty as charged A birth occurs of spirit of mind of soul A new world awakens It is the woman, the woman it is!
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
It's the woman, the woman it is