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"augment" poems
Now, We are mellow. Having spent the evening exploring the threads of friendship. That had come adrift of warp, weft and weave. Time and distance had silks, snag-tagged-torn, on the bustling-busy, hectic-hustling of work and family. Teasing-taunt, needle-gnawing, small, gap-rip-rents in the snug comforter that is... the wonder of us. Us, so many secrets woven. So many, nights of tissues and sobbing tears. Darning in daring exploits. Cutting away knotted, fear-angry-scream-fighting feuds. Cutting work, for days of delight and nights of desperate yearning. We used anything at hand, rough wools, pieces of string and twines. To weave a blanket, to hide us from life's storms. We were, so young, so strong, recklessly-brash, stupidly-joyous and braveheart-fools. And now, time and age, has softened our work. Felted and fuse-melded, the fibres into a beautiful entity. That we store-save in the heart's cupboard, of special and precious  things. It is an heirloom of sorts. We bring it out,with occasional, humble-grace, to be dandled and stroked with reverence. Caressed and cossetted are our memories held within the abstract weave. We are the dwindling of a youthful exuberance flung-thrown-heaved to the wild winds. So now, we are grateful to be curator-custodians of the retrospective nature as we augment-append and reiterate-repair. A new thread here, now, embellish-embroider,embed and tatt-stitch. My son and your twin girls, squeezed, splashing into your tiny bathtub big-grin-giggling in the gurgling water. Our future, here and now, is the brightest of silks, Our past, mellow and yielding in, the luminent opulence, angelically-asleep in, the other room.
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
warp weft and weave
Now, We are mellow. Having spent the evening exploring the threads of friendship. That had come adrift of warp, weft and weave. Time and distance had silks, snag-tagged-torn, on the bustling-busy, hectic-hustling of work and family. Teasing-taunt, needle-gnawing, small, gap-rip-rents in the snug comforter that is... the wonder of us. Us, so many secrets woven. So many, nights of tissues and sobbing tears. Darning in daring exploits. Cutting away knotted, fear-angry-scream-fighting feuds. Cutting work, for days of delight and nights of desperate yearning. We used anything at hand, rough wools, pieces of string and twines. To weave a blanket, to hide us from life's storms. We were, so young, so strong, recklessly-brash, stupidly-joyous and braveheart-fools. And now, time and age, has softened our work. Felted and fuse-melded, the fibres into a beautiful entity. That we store-save in the heart's cupboard, of special and precious  things. It is an heirloom of sorts. We bring it out,with occasional, humble-grace, to be dandled and stroked with reverence. Caressed and cossetted are our memories held within the abstract weave. We are the dwindling of a youthful exuberance flung-thrown-heaved to the wild winds. So now, we are grateful to be curator-custodians of the retrospective nature as we augment-append and reiterate-repair. A new thread here, now, embellish-embroider,embed and tatt-stitch. My son and your twin girls, squeezed, splashing into your tiny bathtub big-grin-giggling in the gurgling water. Our future, here and now, is the brightest of silks, Our past, mellow and yielding in, the luminent opulence, angelically-asleep in, the other room.
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54
History has shown They will **** their own Before living with others in peace Have no doubt That hatred is as nourishment Sustenance Subsistence A necessity for existence They can not do without Burning hot as fire within the wretched souls Of those Whose evil knows No bounds Would **** you As soon as kick you Because your skin is Olive or Brown Or you pray to a Deity That your life revolves around The depravity The corruption Never cease to be astounded By Those that NEED someone to hate Who would these mongers hate If successful in their efforts To eradicate Everyone who was, from themselves, different? If they knifed all the ******* Burned all the ******* Chopped up all the chinks Would this, their hate, augment? If they tortured the towel heads Killed the catholics Hanged the homos Would this, finally, curb discontent? Or Would the haters implode And begin to feed upon themselves Would short people Shoot tall people? Would merely looking at skinny Make fatty incensed? Would brown-eyed people **** blue-eyed people? Would red hair and freckles Be a stoning offense? Would black-haired people Break blond-haired people? This is a hate poem… And hate seldom makes sense… But sensical or no… Seems the real status quo Matters love that we show There will always be those That just plain NEED Someone to hate
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May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 9:28 AM UTC
Someone To Hate
Try your best to escape and free Your mind is not your identity Your genetics, your family tree Your looking glass eyes can see Through the window an fatefully Change your perception of reality And redefine who you are to be My new persona is in a coma down in Barcelona Now I'm Jonah in love with Mona from Arizona Drinking corona with Fiona in the streets of Verona Creativity is a proclivity that unshackles our identity free Journey with me far from the vast sea of mental captivity Exclusivity of proactivity creates a glorious life of festivity Consent to your dreams to the absolute umpteenth degree Augment your schemes and forget about the no guarantee Reinvent thee extremes, and you will never be a life absentee Remember as you read that we are all connected eternally On this marble together spinning we are all just guests Wandering around trying to solve our personal quests Humans being we happened to be, but only temporarily May as well attempt and squeeze life to death and manifest All your aspirations and ambitions should be put to the test All so blessed with a mind, and a beating heart in our chest So why not invest the rest of our time to aspire to be the best
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
I Dented Thee
I have a heart full of cement Solid... Permanent I've sang your lament over and over again But every song has the same intent Like something permanent. I regret not having a patent on your scent, Or the way your teeth are bent or broken. Like at some point a decent person Had a cruel accident But, against your jaw ..........A fists descent... ...To punish you.......... And forever augment that one percent of you. I don't know the intent of the event But, I do know you underwent some hell To get to me, in our present But, that doesn't matter my gent My denouement is becoming distant          ...you are here...                       And there you went. But, our two souls are water and powder We create cement... Permanent
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
You Are Here
The curves on a brachiosaurus make Queen Latifah seem like a beach towel. The jaws on a tyrannosaurus rex make Jay Leno augment his chin. The spikes on a stegosaurus make Travis Barker shave his head. Latifah Leno Barker hunt for dino flesh like aboriginals chase mammoth with sticks stones and fire dances. Yeah, I'd pay to see that.
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC
Rocko's Prehistoric Life
Content, with a tinge of love, I repent All I've given up. Realize what I've surmised Is a traversed trial of fire. Higher, higher; The atmosphere you admire: Lighter breathing, Muscles beating, Entreating my desire. A pyre, The phoenix feeling renaissance: The lover's having --- Once the want to be satisfied --- Which was, while shattered, reconciled --- Compiled a mile-long list To mist the ever-flowering tree Of prospect, Respecting past Opinion. Your dominion over my Ever-subjugating heart (Pulsating a Morse message) Belittles meaning in Stockholm Syndrome, For I am no Shackled drone; And, forever, This you've known. We are symbiotic. We are psychotic. Celeritous symbols Sampling this: Extended metaphor. Extempore, we entertain and Adore each other, The world we are to each. So: teach me how you look With beseeching reach Into deep territory in sleep; Incept directly And affect me Romantically. Augment what is meant and true.
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 11:20 PM UTC
Meantality
I hate you No, no I love you Slower, slower I hate fast Slow down the pace This cannot last This fall from grace Augment your fingers Across splintered hips Your taste lingers On sugary lips Submerge Into red, red wine Surge You’re the cork Slower, slower I want this to last Slow, s l o w This can’t ever last
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Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Strawberries
There is a word that expresses all the ways in which you have disappointed me and driven me to tears of frustration; I could not enumerate them without displacing my mind in the process, I can only seethe in the chagrin that you have left behind you, a thick gelatinous mess you spread with each movement of your sluggish body and with each breath you take you augment my resentment for you until it boils over into one expression, one word that encompasses this empirically justifiable vexation, uttered with the sarcastic malice that could drive it into your dense English skull; cheers.
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Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
My Most Profound Gratitude
A nascent society gluttonously feeds on the palingenesis of hyaline paragons forged by stolid and archaic eremites. A whilom friendship leaks a susurrus of tristful regret, while pernicious ***** maunder puerile attacks on munificent intellectuals who only wish to augment risible souls and divagate from vertiginous roads too often traveled. Such a chimerical respect for tradition is too rigid to be broken alone.
0
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:09 PM UTC
Untitled
always remember to give one hundred and ten percent the golden rule to ensure ones professional ascent i've been told this repeatedly without asking what they really meant does the world really expect me to give it my all until i am old and bent when they only give me back just enough to cover my rent am i the only one who feels so overwhelmingly discontent no matter how much i give my earnings only once a year augment and the thought of how small this raise will be leaves me in torment so **** this society and the current establishment i have a better idea for how my life should be spent i have a place in mind where i'll never need another cent one day i'll escape this place leaving the world wondering where i went
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
frustrated lament
Appended streams exhume the dreams that surface in conscious guide, As photon beams augment the seams transmitters must abide. The quantum strings of knotted ties, Entangling's of worlds collide, A vortex of spiraled rings, In scattered sets convergent glide, The convex spacial vacuuming's, synaptic points electrified, A hex, insatiable, stochastically adjoins frequencies over-amplified, as complex oracle valuations weight choices to decide.
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
Thought-Poetry
Life must be carried on with contentment We must develop an enough sentiment All our ideas we must try to implement Doing the best not for just compliment Efforts to succeed we must augment Waste not time in useless argument Go for wise and shrewd agreement And ever work for World's betterment We must perform well our assignment Sending kindness as our consignment Work hard for our fine goals' attainment By accepting arriving disappointment We must make our rules" enactment Acting always with real commitment We must obey God's Government mvvenkataraman
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Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
For No Resentment, Instead Enjoyment
you are the cigarette i pull out of the box every other evening after fourty-six and five thousand strides, three underpasses and one last pedestrian crossing as with the cigarette, i look forward to you, look forward to the high derived from the very presence of you of your enigmatic entity misting through my lungs like a sick, heady liaison akin to that of beer and smoke but as with it which stubs out before the junction of bartley relinquishes within me a curt perspiration, a heightened vision you ravel my walk, desiccate my lips, augment a melancholy that after muddy fields and an overhead bridge initiates yet another discretion away from blurry headlights as with the two sticks, tuesday and friday five~, but only in selected amity you leave traces of tobacco and filter paper grinding between my newly dentalised set as the zephyrs of the monsoon season **** against the spark the bitter aftertaste of something so wrong, accompanied by the warmth in cold of something so right
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
daily habit
in already @ first streetlamp the ocean states away with my broken complacency, new deserts, mollasses blood settled in my feet within each footprint lunar lisping in the night air augment consolement in me because i feel empty eyes swimming in the new view
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Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
im still alive
How long the rumbling chord ebbs on irregular in dull augment of endless streaming green and brown An audience to long hours spent The soperific drone plays for   a tired dance of shifting limbs What contrast with the streaming track That blurred metalic weaving score Then all at once the score divides The conductor's signal brass   The final movement slows and so the blur takes form of brick and grass The orchestra all rise as one and bow below the luggage racks A final clunk, the doors release, the journey ends and life unpacks.
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Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC
Locomotive Symphony
Forgive my wallowing in words my lapse is not light, words are fire, creative use of them with more care with out raising a curtain of smoke and uncontrolled flames, if expected it's only fair, not to scare you, gentle readers unreasonably with all the  heat it could generate. A gentle fire, at night, a golden glow where you would sit around and partake my fare is what I dream. Every word has deep roots, and laughing  flowers, cryptic connecting codes, tunnels that augment the flows channeled to hearts, music that connects words, unexpected fire works of meanings that explode, metaphors that amble and gallop forward with spectacular beauty, you watch without batting an eyelid, that's what brings clarity, and a gentle ecstasy mind licks up, and goes to sleep purring in delight. Signs pointing to the unknown, even unsaid become evident, like in magic, how it unfolds how can I say, what's the  well spring of an oracle's revelations, amazing! Imageries arise along the flow of creation, evoking, love, pain, hope or remorse- whatever feeling that invades human psyche, that demands an immediate emotional response, and from there leads to catharsis, mind's elation. Taking you to the forest route of words, - that blankets and blocks the view of elegant trees, you love to look at and to forget everything for some moments, at least - was my fault, I was carried away, yes, I should learn to control my excesses.
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Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
What did the poet say
A nascent society gluttonously feeds on the palingenesis of hyaline paragons forged by stolid and archaic eremites. A whilom friendship leaks a susurrus of tristful regret, while pernicious ***** maunder puerile attacks on munificent intellectuals who only wish to augment risible souls and divagate from vertiginous roads too often traveled. Such a chimerical respect for tradition is too rigid to be broken alone.
0
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
Yesterday's Truth
brewing potion with ritual reciting chants, merely verbal niching these little caviar a mixture of gravitas and war such ladle so long enough to combine a virgin's blood with a spoon of wine perhaps adding a buckskin would suffice this hellcat's hellacious bliss a bushel of a misogynist's intestine, must not forget to hitch gobs of sharks fin, augment a pair of an old man's sight then smatter the hogs' teeth bite sing song this dark lullaby you ought to hear plead and cry smell and smear this fatal brew any life it shall take and shoo death will come and it will reign blood will begrime and it will stain thoroughly toting the daring deathly hex seeking a prey who must be next
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Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC
witching
is a personal choice. It is well within One's realm of power to rise above what One has been to learn from One's own mistakes and to augment and amend the standards of quality to which One chooses to hold One's Self. Edification is not simply a lofty pipe dream achieved only by perhaps a few past geniuses; it is the perpetual act of active mental cultivation, taming One's Mind that One may lead it that in turn it may propel One upon the Path rather than One merely being dragged along for the ride of a lifetime. Edification is a personal choice. Begrudge not they who seem to choose to overlook it, though they may well begrudge you your vernacular; for it is they who cheat themselves with some grandiose mass-produced delusion of comfort and they thereby **** themselves to forever wallow in their own putrid and vile irk and ire. And, in the self-absorbed yet self-nihilistic process, do they cheat us all of an edified society! Even so, perhaps even more so, with that withstanding, it is of utmost importance not to begrudge them their disedified state, for pray they wallow not in malice, but in ignorance; for all it takes is perseverance and knowing One's Self. Aye, there's the rub.
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Edification
Thinking of all the evil that had made you done All the bad deeds that happen under the sun Knowing though sufferings were growing up in all You'd still like to have the fun When fear comes on any mortal they think of no more than to run As if to revive themselves by gulping down the bright shining sun What good is there in doing good for them Who follow your faith but put you in blame Then real and fake would look as if all were same Chanting your glories in the sake of your name We people down here under the shelter of the crust Need no worry whether we grow in happiness or an illusionary lust We may not put up with an idol that shows disgust About all the good things which happen as you say must But keep faith like real people in our Lord whom we trust Thinking bout all the miracles and beauties divine Most of which are left for ages leaving them pristine Except for some of the many considered bovine For which O Lord you weren't allowed to shine Sharing the shade of darkness of neither Thine nor mine In the rise and fall of all the glories considered crime Pass away people, most of who stay in the light of the lime In which some preach true lies and some act out in mime Just to prove their glow in the thick layer of grime So descendants of the three worlds come on as one To settle down score to leave 'the' world to survive under the sun And for all the grave sins that ya got done Would rise to new heights to augment your fun
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May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
Doing Evil, Thinking Good
the alternate of the next remember, close behind the quavers are approaching rest„„„ ….into another bar breve until movement restarts CACOPHONY!!! minors gone awry chasing melody helter-skelter cycling the 5th major just walked in B prepared to C how trouble is spelt sharper than the relative rescuing all but the F A C E flattened formulas augment the coda intervals feed nerves on queue inverting modes and mood to suit diminishing happiness, relishing rules of progression perfect ~ perfect suspend 2 no, 4 from the blues flood with syncopation and forget everything I’ve said.
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Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
Harmonizing
Milk-stone tiling, with some figure-hugging brown and Castleton's ceiling pervading; cement works, cement works, on my mind. The shroud of Christ's teachings is left in damp upon the soap-fused wall. Fan beating in aggressive pleasure, it staves off stagnancy, instead cleaning all humidity with purity of essence. Cleansed, cleansed, the soaps are tinted in poisonous colours, lethal toad and paradise mountain, you scale all levels of disappointment, to leave in want of better investment. As in all politics, each day I intend to settle my doubts in your cleansing augment, of all that is pure, and all without grime, from the stubborn North wind, that freezes bells before chime.
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
The Wetroom
We believe female circumcision Is barbaric, But boys should look like their Dads, It's traditional, like swinging a dead cat In a gunney sack over your head. Yeah, like Dad and I showered together daily? Should girls augment their ******* to look like Mom. Should Mom landscape to look like daughter. Let's bring Granny into the mix. We believe homelessness to be cruel And unnecessary. Why I have one in winter, And one in summer. Our dogs have wall-to-wall. Birds have gilded cages. They have vents and cardboard. We believe in fair trade (Except with countries we don't believe), To get what others have, Especially those diamond rings, Blood stones. We abhor child labour, But haven't enough Money to give Wal-Mart On Black Friday. Where do our sympathies lie? When sympathies lie.
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Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Where Sympathies Lie
Electricity is out Shut down by nature’s power Ice’s storm break danced till dawn Twisting branch, limb and tree trunk onto lawn 16 nights of darkness 16 days of frost 16 days without power Yet not all is lost Relaxation’s comfort found in front of fireplace Sun’s light deferred, soaked up in greener days Hearth felt spiritual warming in fire brewed cup of simplicity Candlelight flickerings augment the serendipity 16 days without power and not a thought of TV 16 nights of quiet and stillness Strangely appealing to me
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Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:15 AM UTC
16 Days in Springfield, MO