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"annum" poems
There’s a lot to be said for this place. A near-perfect pitch for diversity, Diversity: a neurolinguistic term; A quaint way to say: miscegenation. No, just kidding; I meant the melting *** A fine blend of Anglo, Hispanic & Indian blood— That’s Pueblo & Plains Indian blood-- Not that **** masala, chapati & dal Indian blood. My apologies to "Who's the White Guy?" Bobby Jindal. New Mexico: “The Land of Enchantment.” Where 310 sunny days per annum, Are like money in the bank, earning Double-plus compound interest for those Suffering with seasonal affective disorders. A land of sunshine without the orange juice, But substitute chili, red or green? An equitable offset to be sure. 310 days of sunshine: Even the white people are brown here. Which does a lot for my self-esteem. Back east—New York, Chicago & Philadelphia e.g.— People that look like me, i.e., People with dark brown hair, eyes and skin, Get stopped/ass-cheek spread/& frisked, routinely. Stop & Frisk: NYPD’s spectator sport for decades. Stop & Frisk: Mayor Bloomberg-defended Crime-stopping Godsend, Getting guns off the streets. Getting homicides down. Everything’s cool until some slick race baiter, Starts yelling: RACIAL PROFILING. Forget for a moment that people that look like me, People like me with dark hair, eyes & skin, Commit 78% of the crime in most cities. “It’s not racially driven profiling,” Said Newark’s police director recently Referring to stops carried out by his officers. “IT’S CRIME-DRIVEN PROFILING!” But, again, political-correctness trumps common sense: August 2013: Judge Rules NYPD Stop-and-Frisk Unconstitutional. Well I’ll be a monkey’s *** ****** I moved to New Mexico to blend in. My complexion a shoe-in for The Witness Protection Program or Any other public or private, Domestic or international rendition site. But I digress. New Mexico: no passport necessary, Babaloo! New Mexico: be you white or black, Hispanic or Indian, Or even Roswell extraterrestrial, The cops here will beat the **** out of you. Or shoot you dead, Kemosabe.
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Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
"Let Me Hip You to the Land of Enchantment"
There’s a lot to be said for this place. A near-perfect pitch for diversity, Diversity: a neurolinguistic term; A quaint way to say: miscegenation. No, just kidding; I meant the melting *** A fine blend of Anglo, Hispanic & Indian blood— That’s Pueblo & Plains Indian blood-- Not that **** masala, chapati & dal Indian blood. My apologies to "Who's the White Guy?" Bobby Jindal. New Mexico: “The Land of Enchantment.” Where 310 sunny days per annum, Are like money in the bank, earning Double-plus compound interest for those Suffering with seasonal affective disorders. A land of sunshine without the orange juice, But substitute chili, red or green? An equitable offset to be sure. 310 days of sunshine: Even the white people are brown here. Which does a lot for my self-esteem. Back east—New York, Chicago & Philadelphia e.g.— People that look like me, i.e., People with dark brown hair, eyes and skin, Get stopped/ass-cheek spread/& frisked, routinely. Stop & Frisk: NYPD’s spectator sport for decades. Stop & Frisk: Mayor Bloomberg-defended Crime-stopping Godsend, Getting guns off the streets. Getting homicides down. Everything’s cool until some slick race baiter, Starts yelling: RACIAL PROFILING. Forget for a moment that people that look like me, People like me with dark hair, eyes & skin, Commit 78% of the crime in most cities. “It’s not racially driven profiling,” Said Newark’s police director recently Referring to stops carried out by his officers. “IT’S CRIME-DRIVEN PROFILING!” But, again, political-correctness trumps common sense: August 2013: Judge Rules NYPD Stop-and-Frisk Unconstitutional. Well I’ll be a monkey’s *** ****** I moved to New Mexico to blend in. My complexion a shoe-in for The Witness Protection Program or Any other public or private, Domestic or international rendition site. But I digress. New Mexico: no passport necessary, Babaloo! New Mexico: be you white or black, Hispanic or Indian, Or even Roswell extraterrestrial, The cops here will beat the **** out of you. Or shoot you dead, Kemosabe.
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53
Human Trafficking This one thing evolved Such a badly that 31.6 billion dollars Of trade is happening In the world per annum Mostly women and Some young girls They were harassed Sexually, sometimes forced To marry someone or making them Slaves and more that I cannot Explain them in words Because knowing about it I became dumb They are tortured and given electrical Shocks if they refuse their offer Many are affected with *** They offer a job by telling about The packages and the accommodation And finally when they are in their traps They will show their evil faces and Torture them
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
610. Pray to save them
Already the month of August 2018, May never become a je June'm (Forget-me-not) time of year, especially for nouveau homeless and, penniless residents, (now more like worrier), who reside in the (burnt to a crisp) Golden State where, towering uncontrollable wild fire infernos veer really did tax mental, physical, and spiritual oye vey iz mare (to the bajillion power of Google Plex) their heirlooms, mementos, and trappings of das kapital lifestyle went up in smoke, which tragedy didst seer the eyes (yes, iz traumatic, but also the air) looms with toxic particulate matter, though concerned former propertied owners (now ashen faced) as utter grief doth rear a scorched (bumping) ugly head, yet the onset of Autumn, (and the main purport of this poem) (oh my dog, that twill be in approximately three weeks, when Eastern Orthodox Church denotes beginning of ecclesiastical annum mull house for straight or queer (these times opening doors to LGBT, or GLBT (an initialism that stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender), nonetheless history replete with app pear chock full of factoids such as: September (Latin septem, "seven") with near exhaustive steeped in pagan glory of antiquity. Ancient Roman observances for September include: Ludi Romani, originally celebrated September 12 - September 14, later extended to September 5 to September 19. In 1st century BC, an extra day added in honor of deified Julius Caesar on 4 September. Epulum Jovis held: September 13. Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22. Septimontium celebrated September, and December 11 on later calendars September called "harvest month" in Charlemagne's calendar. September corresponds partly to Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire of first French republic. On Usenet, September 1993 (Eternal September) never ended. September called Herbstmonat, harvest month, in Switzerland. The Anglo-Saxons called month Gerstmonath, barley month, that crop then usually harvested.
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
September Daze Haint Sapphire Away
Already the month of August 2018, May never become a je June'm (Forget-me-not) time of year, especially for nouveau homeless and, penniless residents, (now more like worrier), who reside in the (burnt to a crisp) Golden State where, towering uncontrollable wild fire infernos veer really did tax mental, physical, and spiritual oye vey iz mare (to the bajillion power of Google Plex) their heirlooms, mementos, and trappings of das kapital lifestyle went up in smoke, which tragedy didst seer the eyes (yes, iz traumatic, but also the air) looms with toxic particulate matter, though concerned former propertied owners (now ashen faced) as utter grief doth rear a scorched (bumping) ugly head, yet the onset of Autumn, (and the main purport of this poem) (oh my dog, that twill be in approximately three weeks, when Eastern Orthodox Church denotes beginning of ecclesiastical annum mull house for straight or queer (these times opening doors to LGBT, or GLBT (an initialism that stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender), nonetheless history replete with app pear chock full of factoids such as: September (Latin septem, "seven") with near exhaustive steeped in pagan glory of antiquity. Ancient Roman observances for September include: Ludi Romani, originally celebrated September 12 - September 14, later extended to September 5 to September 19. In 1st century BC, an extra day added in honor of deified Julius Caesar on 4 September. Epulum Jovis held: September 13. Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22. Septimontium celebrated September, and December 11 on later calendars September called "harvest month" in Charlemagne's calendar. September corresponds partly to Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire of first French republic. On Usenet, September 1993 (Eternal September) never ended. September called Herbstmonat, harvest month, in Switzerland. The Anglo-Saxons called month Gerstmonath, barley month, that crop then usually harvested.
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81
I never was occupied with the essence of patriotism The altruism of the conscription of the young, to later express gratitude for their service, for their heroism The sensationalism of singing of the anthems, and the so-called 'civil defence' But really, it's all merely an excuse to justify unwarranted offence It's a weapon wielded as a subterfuge for the ethical codes transgressed For capital, people become national and subsequently irrational Due to patriotism, all the decisions of the government are infallible And anyone who opposes said verdicts is radical To continue reading about patriotism, please subscribe it's only $120 per annum. Fees are taxable
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Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
Patriotism
I get scared easily. And I always have persisted to allow my mind to be torn out when I let it affect me. They say, "Worst case scenario is rare." in most situations. I have yet to seek why they ignore worst case, become it, leaving nothing left for the worst. Habitually it creates an aggression with associates: replacement and correlation. Without me noticing inevitably. Behind. This shadow that follows, desires its personification; Consequently the main man must fall, He will dissipate towards the rock where the one before him stood. Rather take a spot of one greater, it is that of less higher. A demotion of sort. In order for it to transpose into progression, a compromise is of order. The compromise of time, itself, playing the waiting game - (let us back step) …replacement…correlation… The understanding of this is of which I no longer feel that emotion; It is configured by the other, making a statement which is unrecognizable. So much, not even I, the speaker, can do anything to prove to you what I mean. --For keeps sake-- This is no where near a poor pardon for my actions. They are far from a credible stature. Far from a pity fete; Indeed a fare apology is in par. Yet this is a means of report to say in far value: worry. It is of pure arrogance that I state this claim. Keep this in mind. That I fear the replacement emotion shall take place in fair time once more. As the tail is coming back again, second time to be specific. And your steps in self-fulfillment climaxes, The steps to which I take are mimicked to that of the first tail. (The apex forms and your entitlement proclaims its spot.) I wish it not, to be furthered in my rut. As of the annum before, was explained by dis-valued ties. This is not to which I think. It is your confidence which speaks and separates your feet. Placing one foot in one path, far ahead from the other. As I stay with the other, while the other one is altered. Being free as it walks along with out I. I wish for an ignoring of replacement, and to this I will forcibly try. For you, my love.
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Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
Adapt.
I get scared easily. And I always have persisted to allow my mind to be torn out when I let it affect me. They say, "Worst case scenario is rare." in most situations. I have yet to seek why they ignore worst case, become it, leaving nothing left for the worst. Habitually it creates an aggression with associates: replacement and correlation. Without me noticing inevitably. Behind. This shadow that follows, desires its personification; Consequently the main man must fall, He will dissipate towards the rock where the one before him stood. Rather take a spot of one greater, it is that of less higher. A demotion of sort. In order for it to transpose into progression, a compromise is of order. The compromise of time, itself, playing the waiting game - (let us back step) …replacement…correlation… The understanding of this is of which I no longer feel that emotion; It is configured by the other, making a statement which is unrecognizable. So much, not even I, the speaker, can do anything to prove to you what I mean. --For keeps sake-- This is no where near a poor pardon for my actions. They are far from a credible stature. Far from a pity fete; Indeed a fare apology is in par. Yet this is a means of report to say in far value: worry. It is of pure arrogance that I state this claim. Keep this in mind. That I fear the replacement emotion shall take place in fair time once more. As the tail is coming back again, second time to be specific. And your steps in self-fulfillment climaxes, The steps to which I take are mimicked to that of the first tail. (The apex forms and your entitlement proclaims its spot.) I wish it not, to be furthered in my rut. As of the annum before, was explained by dis-valued ties. This is not to which I think. It is your confidence which speaks and separates your feet. Placing one foot in one path, far ahead from the other. As I stay with the other, while the other one is altered. Being free as it walks along with out I. I wish for an ignoring of replacement, and to this I will forcibly try. For you, my love.
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38
little white envelope sealed with a promise just like the others open to find means to a better end no bitter ends will you let begin colourful notes meant to read i love you words not easily spoken through clenched teeth jaws locked rusted with time years spent unhinged uncontrolled spoiled words spoken between lips unforgiving winds their destruction still left to rebuild tension releases by passing annum moments spent in silence make way for healing and days left to heal with you are unknown days left are precious words are simple beholden to their potential barriers thin but exist nonetheless not in contempt but in habit detox made easier by bullet holes ghosts of past attempts to infiltrate your kingdom of fatherhood
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Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
Civil War
Your hair was back but your hands were nothing but close. I can't remember what it feels like anymore to hate a touch because now it's all I desire. That look in your eyes was threatening but baby you could **** me and I would still give you everything I have. The sensation of your entity twirling around mine only makes me wish you were here to give me that look one more time. Put your hands around my throat. Turn all my previous fears into sinful wishes. Put your hips around mine and I'll scream your name as if you're leaving forever in my wake. Stay with me until you come up and I disappear because we run nothing but cycles and I want all 365 days of this annum with you.
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Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
******* in the Moonlight
Luna (Latine Lunae) est terrae sola naturalis satellite. [E] [F] [VIII] licet non amet naturalis satellitis in Systemate Solare est, inter satellites maioribus signis maxima quod ad magnitudinem orbes obiecti (primarium) [g] [a] et post Io satellite Jovis, qui est secundus densa inter densitates satellite cognoscuntur. Luna est in vna *** orbem terrarum, et semper, et faciens facies, *** cis insignis, quae per tenebras inter maria volcanus editis clarus, et veteri crusta impactus crateres prominent. Est enim post solem in coelo et immutari. Quanquam autem id candidissimam, obscurus etiam superficie *** bitumen reflectance fessis tantum leviter superior. Huius temporibus perquam cyclus regularem habere in coelo, quia antiquitus in luna lingua maximus culturae opes, fastos artis fabularis. Producit vim gravitatis luna dies et tempora et levi freta. Nunc de orbita lunae distantia diameter vicibus terra in caelum facit ut fere idem sit qui apparet Solis. Nempe per id fere totum solem lunam eclipsin solis tegere. Hoc simile est de magnitudine visuali fortuitum apparens. Lunaris a terra distantiae lineae sit amet, crescens ad rate of 3,82 ± 0,07 mm per annum, id est, non tamen semper. [IX]
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Lunar Love
Hot epidermis glows with appreciation warming pesky flies. Bamboo soldiers dance In natural unison Leaves rustle at their feet. Uncertain rain drops seeping in sandstone spirit frosting through ones soul. The first solar breath Glistens through dew Singing life anew.
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Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 6:12 AM UTC
Annum
Yes, it be two annum since You, i befriended. Who could have foreseen the tragic way in which we ended? You, the quiet rain to mine hearts desert, grief chained. I, the stroke to thine ego hurt where the dark knight remained. Once i be thy angel with lost wings. Guardian of secrets that play thine hearts strings. Now lost and again wandering in the desert of pain. By mine own hand...silenced the rain. I beseeched thee to return to mine eyes. But invain for the sky would not cry. Yet in this morn I awoke to a new day. For thou hast graced me with thy return and I wish thee to stay.
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Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC
Return
Sleeping in the womb of Mother Earth Life to which the rain and ground gives birth Indulge in the silent light, soak up the peace treeling Give to the vastness your fruit and sprout a colossal being House the flying songs, cover the coy crawling lessers Make fertile your foundations, surprise the soiled crevices Contain in your coils each annum, the way of all that breathes Remain a sturdy statue for each generation's leave Let your roots grip the heart of the world On your limbs, dreams and history will be built Life after life, after day and after night All that will come, will go and you'll surpass in ageing might
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Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
The Tree
A bit luni, or so it would appear, to add an extra day every fourth year, though leap we must, Feb adjust, for a near annum would get lost over the next fourteen-hundred years.
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Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
Leap we must
People are literally dying every single day But only the celebrities manage to make the front page A higher level of honour because they gotta lotta dollar What about the people hard pressed showing signs of survival? You dont hear the stories of people rotting away Inside a straight jacket of "normal" human flaws, they say You dont feel the pain of banging heads going down corridors You dont see the stress of death clutching your heart to his chest like pause... Consider whats wrong How suicide rates escalate since before I was born there's something In the air, a blank stare or soulful eyes Begging with each blink that you might hear their silent cries they deny! Their own existence is not as important as yours So stop and think a second time before they hit the floor With gunshots at 50, and with depression about 90, The percent of people dead per annum, they dont need this **** i highly Doubt you gave a **** doubt you wished them luck Doubt you'd be the mechanic to fix this faulty truck Just a little more, all the times you saw Those eyes pierce the night from under those black nightly hoods Therein is chaos in mechanics, robotics, electronics, And that's what y'all have become, bystander demonics Every day is the same to you, every try is lies to truth Nobody seems to realise there's help needed for our ******* youth! Turn to drugs to have some fun, cant feel the pain when you're feeling numb Chemicals to help uphold the happiness you had when you were young Alcohol to help absolve The sins of past remain unsolved But thats okay when every day you forget the reason you were born! Blades to skin to drown the pain The blood we washed won't truly stain Every mark will always change Every scar will stay the same Every day is all in vain All the anger we locked away In the hopes that it would fly away and fade as fast as the light of day! Blog our thoughts to keep us sane! This stabs our mind, steel to brain! A monster crying out for aid BUT ALL YOU DID WAS NEVER CHANGE! So you walk along the sidewalk You dont see, them swinging They felt they never had a choice You never cared, when they lost their voice...
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Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 2:37 AM UTC
Lost Voices
People are literally dying every single day But only the celebrities manage to make the front page A higher level of honour because they gotta lotta dollar What about the people hard pressed showing signs of survival? You dont hear the stories of people rotting away Inside a straight jacket of "normal" human flaws, they say You dont feel the pain of banging heads going down corridors You dont see the stress of death clutching your heart to his chest like pause... Consider whats wrong How suicide rates escalate since before I was born there's something In the air, a blank stare or soulful eyes Begging with each blink that you might hear their silent cries they deny! Their own existence is not as important as yours So stop and think a second time before they hit the floor With gunshots at 50, and with depression about 90, The percent of people dead per annum, they dont need this **** i highly Doubt you gave a **** doubt you wished them luck Doubt you'd be the mechanic to fix this faulty truck Just a little more, all the times you saw Those eyes pierce the night from under those black nightly hoods Therein is chaos in mechanics, robotics, electronics, And that's what y'all have become, bystander demonics Every day is the same to you, every try is lies to truth Nobody seems to realise there's help needed for our ******* youth! Turn to drugs to have some fun, cant feel the pain when you're feeling numb Chemicals to help uphold the happiness you had when you were young Alcohol to help absolve The sins of past remain unsolved But thats okay when every day you forget the reason you were born! Blades to skin to drown the pain The blood we washed won't truly stain Every mark will always change Every scar will stay the same Every day is all in vain All the anger we locked away In the hopes that it would fly away and fade as fast as the light of day! Blog our thoughts to keep us sane! This stabs our mind, steel to brain! A monster crying out for aid BUT ALL YOU DID WAS NEVER CHANGE! So you walk along the sidewalk You dont see, them swinging They felt they never had a choice You never cared, when they lost their voice...
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44
LAYERED EMOTIONS Heaps of hope she heaved on the rare orchid, bidding it bloom. Annum four begot the boon; it tested its little magic and sprouted a slender shoot, sprinkled with decimal buds.   She kept breathing life into her hope, pining for the buds’ open sesame, and daily guarded over it, with her adored two year old. Slowly, after what seemed a ‘thapas’ the teeny buds unfurled, one by one, into a beauteous brooch of mimosa pink. Moment of pure fulfilment! Next noon, her beloved two year old drew nigh, with a spring in his sprint, chirping, ‘mom, close your eyes, I have a present for you.’ Mom geared up as per order, eager to glimpse the gift of love. ‘One, two, three: open your eyes’ the proud voice cooed. She obeyed and lo! upheld in his tender fingers was the rarest of gifts, the pendant of her four year dream, the mimosa pink brooch! He offered his token of love with a proud enchanting smile! Should she cry, or should she laugh? She did both. She locked him in a bear hug, showering kisses all over, proud of his precious love! But tears of joy, laced with dismay silently dripped down her cheeks! It was a loaded moment of layered emotions! heavily loaded, heavily layered!
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
LAYERED EMOTIONS
Fellas ask me Are you in love? I dare say yes, I am in deep LOVE DEEP LOVE! Deep love with the mortals The ones presented me with life I am in deep love With the knowledgeable The one presenting me, With a new floor of wisdom Every annum I am in DEEP LOVE! Oh I am in DEEP LOVE In love with the acquaintances Who direct me through diversions Direct me to the right path Oh I am in love! In love with the open-minds, With the aroma Aroma of freshly turned pages The good-old books! Oh we are already in a good relationship! Oh I am DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH ME! I love my SOUL! What else does a lover need?! This is what I call Les love! Here it is All that matters In the depth of, Les LOVE! I look at a total different perspective, A total different perspective Of love! I dare say, What then we call We call all these feels?! My loves, This is the only love, The only love  I want to know The only love I trust The only love I belong in The only love I want Les only LOVE.....
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Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 5:21 AM UTC
LOVE A DIFFERENT VERSE