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"asexually" poems
I love her. No not ******** worldly, But softly, purely , celestially. Obsessively? Not necessarily, just completely, selfishly and I'm sorry. I love her unconditionally, some say unconventionally. But they don't understand me. Yes...I love her. Most spiritually, asexually, platonically and wholly. I love her, truly, honestly, musically and poetically... She doesn't have to love me.
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
With everything i am
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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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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42
in erectile functions or asexually the ideas that give meanings or rises or raise the honor guards rifles; complicate the pool with lust genes surprise me in profundity or praise the humble help yourself by helping another don't accept blindly what is handed out consider the futility of grandness in you and houses and material things just once let it reproduce a kinder heart in us in me in you
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
replicate
for which theirs is no liturgical everyday urge in the cycles we moon flow tides desire then escape the meanings the influences while the blood rushes  in periods can we make haste or deny the seasons and seances and the ****** a destination urges the first day comes like a  sunrise new bold nature all natural subconscious asexually normal a day any other tall warm
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Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
normal