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"ause" poems
(C)ause (R)eality (U)nderstands, (S)tolen (H)earts (S)ometimes (O)verdo (D)evoted (A)dorations
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 3:54 AM UTC
{Crush Soda}
. •they'd                come at night•                these footsteps are                never light• always                     heavy and running ar-                       ound•...they are annoy-                         ingly creepy..., these aw-                        ful sounds•every night,                           after eleven without                         fail•into rooms,                         us they would                         tail• making a                         din overhead                         •when all                                                  should                         be quiet inste-                          ad•like barefooted                           children i would ***                           ume...•wandering and                           exploring into every ro-                            om•...could they come                             wilfully•from the cou-                                 ple who live above                             me•i very much                              doubt so•bec-                              ause this much                              i know...•that                              the neigh- bour up-                     stairs, they're                         old•frail and meek;                             never bold•they'd re-                             tire early•after late, ne-                             ver a party•now... there                             the feet go again•drivi-                             ng me almost insane•                             on my ceiling now,                             they're pacing•                         they know i kn-                         ow and they are                         playing•these                         invisible                                                 feet•ne-                         ver would we                             meet•one thing for                            sure•this is not a friv-                             olous tour•determined                             to tell•that they exist                               as well•nothing i'm                                certain but it is clear                                •i think they really                               like it here...•                               •i don't think                                they're leavi-                               ng•they're                                bent on staying...
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
Footsteps
. •they'd                come at night•                these footsteps are                never light• always                     heavy and running ar-                       ound•...they are annoy-                         ingly creepy..., these aw-                        ful sounds•every night,                           after eleven without                         fail•into rooms,                         us they would                         tail• making a                         din overhead                         •when all                                                  should                         be quiet inste-                          ad•like barefooted                           children i would ***                           ume...•wandering and                           exploring into every ro-                            om•...could they come                             wilfully•from the cou-                                 ple who live above                             me•i very much                              doubt so•bec-                              ause this much                              i know...•that                              the neigh- bour up-                     stairs, they're                         old•frail and meek;                             never bold•they'd re-                             tire early•after late, ne-                             ver a party•now... there                             the feet go again•drivi-                             ng me almost insane•                             on my ceiling now,                             they're pacing•                         they know i kn-                         ow and they are                         playing•these                         invisible                                                 feet•ne-                         ver would we                             meet•one thing for                            sure•this is not a friv-                             olous tour•determined                             to tell•that they exist                               as well•nothing i'm                                certain but it is clear                                •i think they really                               like it here...•                               •i don't think                                they're leavi-                               ng•they're                                bent on staying...
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58
There's a friend-- Why JUST a friend? BeCause  she said. There's a girL-- Why JUST a girl? Because i said. You're just A boy. That... I won't deny Who do yoU want? i don't know. Who shoulD you want? That's too easy. "Pick a Side" "mIx em" Well, there's a challenge a chase an obsession ...It's fleeing Or, Am I?
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
The Triangle
.                             Ho w                        about I come                      to your place to                     night,so I can sho                   w you the growth                      ofmy natural log                      I'm  not being ob                      tuse, you  are  be                      ing a cute girl . Y                      ou mustbe the sq                      are root of -1 bec                      ause you can't be                      real. The  derivat                      ive ofmy love for                      you is 0,  because                      my lovefor you is                      constant.  Why d                      on't we use some                      Fourier  analysis                      on  our   relation                      ship  and  reduce                      to a  series of Sim                      ple     per io doc          Fun ctions.                I wish i was  your calculus home  work, because then I'd be hard and   you  'd be doing me on yo ur desk.Hey, baby     want to squeeze my   Theorem while            I     poly   your        n   o    m                        i   a     l
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Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
A Cute Girl
.                             Ho w                        about I come                      to your place to                     night,so I can sho                   w you the growth                      ofmy natural log                      I'm  not being ob                      tuse, you  are  be                      ing a cute girl . Y                      ou mustbe the sq                      are root of -1 bec                      ause you can't be                      real. The  derivat                      ive ofmy love for                      you is 0,  because                      my lovefor you is                      constant.  Why d                      on't we use some                      Fourier  analysis                      on  our   relation                      ship  and  reduce                      to a  series of Sim                      ple     per io doc          Fun ctions.                I wish i was  your calculus home  work, because then I'd be hard and   you  'd be doing me on yo ur desk.Hey, baby     want to squeeze my   Theorem while            I     poly   your        n   o    m                        i   a     l
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30
.                         A                      Tiny hat                 My forefathers             Humble beginnings         I somewhat envy them bec Ause then,they had their own styl           E with self made values           And rules not trying to           Copy others but living           in utmost grace and si           mplicity.though I woul           dn't want to live back;           in those days,I respect    The strength of my forefathers    Their intellect and wisdom,yes.
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Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Humble beginnings
When everybody tells me that I can be anything I want, I was born to do what I want, I believe them. So, I was born to be wild. Or maybe I was born 2 b wild (numeral and letter) or brn2bwld (no vowels nospaces) I'm a poet and I'm proud to say **** form and while im at it, **** the word *** (no c) and **** the grammar of needing to put the apostrophe in im Because I write as i want i am as I want and nothing can Change that. like gatsby the Great i have given birth to Myself and I am me, no One ELSE not even gatsby or any Ayn Randian wetdream dreamed of on a midsummer night because fk (no c no vowels) Shakespeare and fitzgerald and the shrugging atlas becuz (uz instead of ause) this is Me and no One, not a duckface peacesign Mona Lisa or a bandanawearing bazookawielding Benjamin Franklin can ever destroy t h a t because (no change) I am born to be wild (no change)
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
Born 2 B Wild
this is                                                      a poem of a                                      bird, a duck to be tota-                                         lly specific .Although                                                            there might                                                           not seem any-                                                                                                                     thing that duck-ish about this poem as you read                                                            it, it will soon occur to you (if it has not already) that                                                              this poem is really very special since it is not only                                                              about a duck but it is in the shape of a duck...                                                               You see this duck is called Gershwin and he                                                                   likes splashing in puddles so that is                                                                          what                 makes                                                                                     he ,                  him                                                                          does               happy                                                                             all                  bec-                               this is   ...                             day                ause                         supposed to be a                     long .              he                    puddle .Yes it is and          and   that  ,         is a duck!                       a     .......    too   ........                                                                         ...........   ....... ... .                              splash                                                                                                                                                            look below......                                                                        ......                                                              ......  ..................                                                                ......................                                                                   ..............                                                                       .......                                                                          .                                                        * this is the most weirdest poem i                                                     have ever written and its just so RANDOM*                                                                 ;p
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
in the shape of a duck
this is                                                      a poem of a                                      bird, a duck to be tota-                                         lly specific .Although                                                            there might                                                           not seem any-                                                                                                                     thing that duck-ish about this poem as you read                                                            it, it will soon occur to you (if it has not already) that                                                              this poem is really very special since it is not only                                                              about a duck but it is in the shape of a duck...                                                               You see this duck is called Gershwin and he                                                                   likes splashing in puddles so that is                                                                          what                 makes                                                                                     he ,                  him                                                                          does               happy                                                                             all                  bec-                               this is   ...                             day                ause                         supposed to be a                     long .              he                    puddle .Yes it is and          and   that  ,         is a duck!                       a     .......    too   ........                                                                         ...........   ....... ... .                              splash                                                                                                                                                            look below......                                                                        ......                                                              ......  ..................                                                                ......................                                                                   ..............                                                                       .......                                                                          .                                                        * this is the most weirdest poem i                                                     have ever written and its just so RANDOM*                                                                 ;p
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32
rainbows of oil where your f ingers t ouch leave mar ks on marble leave ma rks on slate leave waves in wa ter and I know you can touch the surface bec ause I pulled you back from goi ng deep before you fell too hard to rea ch the bottom -- -- -- -- I imagined your fingers reaching up
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
oil slick
I try not to tell you how I feel No one should determine your choices but you Farther from honesty I become Lies aren’t told, but my thoughts aren’t portrayed Unless you can dig them out of me Every thought you have discourages you No truth I could tell would save you from that ‘Cause the truth is, if you go Everything would be hard for me, and you’d only feel worse
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Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 4:47 PM UTC
Influence
the disappearance of lightning-bugs-scares the little dark place behind my rib- cage. it twangs with a need of a flutter and a beat.beating.trying flying- sensation of wind-under a beetles wingss. a crea ture. of peculiarloveliness that twinges into theee word bee.t.ling the disappearance of lightning. bugss. I’m afraid to say. Is bec- ause… I i I swallowed them into and swallowed them into the dark of my chest.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
4.
R emember when we were in love? E ven just a little? B ecause I'll never forget. E specially the bad moments. C ause the worst moments with you, C hanged me for the better. So I'll A lways thank you for that year point 5
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
Untitled
a was b cause c ause he d id e arned f irst g ave h is I d j ust K arl L oved m any n ot o ne p er q uite r s ane t o u ndo v ery w ell X poses Y z?
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
a was
Sacrilegious thoughts fill my Unusually sick mind, and I don't care be- Cause I will Die Eventually
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Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
the unmasked message
today i didn't cut my leg ab ove the knee be low the hip bec ause  i didn' t want yo u to ask w h e n we have *** and you watch me get dressed after.
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Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
so i smoked
Pause, Along the lines of, Universal time. Suppress the hands of the minute and hour Entrap my thoughts in a cage PAUSE Make sure to double lock them And throw them away. Don't forget to burn the key, I really need a second to breathe PAUSE Perhaps, a couple seconds more Understanding me, the forever misunderstood Stamped on my forehead, Engraved on my skin. PAUSE Can you read me now? Now that I'm, drowning in seconds, engulfed in minutes, gone for hours. Yet, time never paused....
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
Resume
I want you to: Protect me always Even if you are away Always call me Cause you are mine to be Everything else doesn't matter, you see I come with peace:                                  Personality                                  Education                                  Attention                                  Care                                  Everything I just want you for me... ©sim
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Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
P.E.A.C.E
(I) s this really all that's left? (C) an I get out as a thinker with a pen? (A) m I worth the trouble in the end? (L) ife seems not to think so, (L) iving the way I do (I) s it really all that wrong? (T) o fight a feeling for this long (V) engance will be mine I swear (E) ven if all along I cared (N) ow you've tipped the edge (T) onight as I hang above my bed (I) s it going to be enough to turn your head (N) ow that I am dead (G) uess not, you never saw your bad (S) o guess what? (I) am not mad (N) ever have been (C) ause I care too much (E) ven now that I no longer breathe (Y) ou still hate me (O) ut of sight, can you see (U) nderneath all the skin of me (W) hat if I peeled it back for you (O) nce just so you could look (N) ever again (T) ill you (L) ook into the world that you shook (I) 'm still here and ready to fight at your command (S) till ready to move the dust, dirt and the sand (T) his night might just be my last stand (E) ven though I know (N) ever again will I be yours But that's just my crying right?
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
You Call It Crying