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"availability" poems
The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity. Have I been there today ? But it’s easy to be. Ever heard the expression “ idle hands n devil” Loneliness fills the empty void if you are idle Expanding loneliness to fill that barren space Virtual reality I know that’s not the answer Ever watched the kids these days at play ? Levels of loneliness expand within availability See when spare time gathers you start to feel Occasionally being reminded of those bygones Friends and family you’ll not see again is real. Let that not bring you down, try meditation. Only then can you believe you are in control Not giving yourself time to be at all maudlin Each day loneliness can be kept at bay. Loneliness is a dull sloth that can be tamed In not letting things get to you in any way. Not giving up to the inevitability of old age. Even if bits keep falling off your body ev’y day Stoop n build ‘em up again with worn fingers So many times in life you seem to hit the rocks Oh yes I know ,you say , “ tell me how you feel” Feelings ? Well I’m pretty sure you’ll fill y’socks Anyway , they all can see that you’re still real Poets are a very special breed of person. On a scale of one to ten I guess a nine. Experience fills their minds to overflowing To the point where they’ll burst or put it right On that occasion best sit an’ write a poem Friends can then receive it straight overnight Love each friend you have “Without condition” Only then can see that friendship is alright Nothing ventured,nothing gained , a fine ideal. God granted us the sacred power to choose Ethereal guides stand there in our background Vicissitudinous opportunity presents itself. I as a poet and friend I know this to be true. True as the nose upon a happy poets face. Yours is the life , yours the opportunity anew. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written by Philip November 18th 2018.
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Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity.
The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The levels of loneliness of a poet of longevity. Have I been there today ? But it’s easy to be. Ever heard the expression “ idle hands n devil” Loneliness fills the empty void if you are idle Expanding loneliness to fill that barren space Virtual reality I know that’s not the answer Ever watched the kids these days at play ? Levels of loneliness expand within availability See when spare time gathers you start to feel Occasionally being reminded of those bygones Friends and family you’ll not see again is real. Let that not bring you down, try meditation. Only then can you believe you are in control Not giving yourself time to be at all maudlin Each day loneliness can be kept at bay. Loneliness is a dull sloth that can be tamed In not letting things get to you in any way. Not giving up to the inevitability of old age. Even if bits keep falling off your body ev’y day Stoop n build ‘em up again with worn fingers So many times in life you seem to hit the rocks Oh yes I know ,you say , “ tell me how you feel” Feelings ? Well I’m pretty sure you’ll fill y’socks Anyway , they all can see that you’re still real Poets are a very special breed of person. On a scale of one to ten I guess a nine. Experience fills their minds to overflowing To the point where they’ll burst or put it right On that occasion best sit an’ write a poem Friends can then receive it straight overnight Love each friend you have “Without condition” Only then can see that friendship is alright Nothing ventured,nothing gained , a fine ideal. God granted us the sacred power to choose Ethereal guides stand there in our background Vicissitudinous opportunity presents itself. I as a poet and friend I know this to be true. True as the nose upon a happy poets face. Yours is the life , yours the opportunity anew. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written by Philip November 18th 2018.
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44
Asking a question does more than fill open space. It expresses curiosity. Devolving into things not easily expressed. Given our availability. It expresses a deeper need for connection. Whether we are open to what we desire most. Closed off to preference.  The right time of day or night we can de-clutter. Taking in what we give out. Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom. Or merely because your there. It expresses a thought that requires action. That I've thought of you. That there is a desire laid bare. An anticipation that builds until the next time I am able to hear your voice. For the more serious moments require a deeper tone. An ear that senses deeper need. Responding to this deep need of connection. A need of care. A need of longing. To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility. But in the openness of being
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Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Being
“I’m just confused.” You say. “About?” Is all I volley with, throat still clogged with tears. “Your writing, I feel like I know you, then suddenly I feel like I don’t know a whole part of you.” How do you think I feel, Love? I thought you only had pretty words for me, then surprise, and your doubt, fear, lies, love, are all exposed for the world to see. My faults and yours for everyone else. Our relationship falling apart as your fame grows greater. Pain gets reads. “I don’t know where it comes from.” I say. Silence. “It’s like I put my pen to paper and it pours out.” I continue. Your brow furrows, digging for something more. “It’s not even just that, It’s how you act around people it’s different with everyone. I don’t know if you’re real with me.” I don’t either, I think as the tears spring forward faster. I’m frantically searching for a shade of me to hold onto, one I like. It’s hard to find, personas slipping through fingers like sand. “I just…” I trail, hoping for an interruption, but you wait. “I’m a people-pleaser; I know what makes them feel good. I can read them well, I can understand their wants, so to ease some pain, I’ll be what they need.” Still Silence. The fullest, noisiest silence. Am I real? I thought so, with you, yes. With others? No. My parents need a good girl, who loves them like a child. My roommate needs someone to ***** with her, bend to her will, be her punching bag. Your roommates need a girl with ***** someone to shoot **** like they do. Someone to ignore sexism, and racism, hate speeches, and ***** jokes. My school friends need a quirky weird girl who’ll never say no. My teachers need a hard-worker. My boss needs more availability. I need quiet. I need love. I need to find myself in a maze of personas. Each only slightly different. Then I realize, I’m me already. I don’t need to find myself, I’m here waiting, I just need room to grow. RoomToBreathe. So I light a match, set fire to the maze, and watch as all the lies go up in flames.
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Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
To Find Myself.
“I’m just confused.” You say. “About?” Is all I volley with, throat still clogged with tears. “Your writing, I feel like I know you, then suddenly I feel like I don’t know a whole part of you.” How do you think I feel, Love? I thought you only had pretty words for me, then surprise, and your doubt, fear, lies, love, are all exposed for the world to see. My faults and yours for everyone else. Our relationship falling apart as your fame grows greater. Pain gets reads. “I don’t know where it comes from.” I say. Silence. “It’s like I put my pen to paper and it pours out.” I continue. Your brow furrows, digging for something more. “It’s not even just that, It’s how you act around people it’s different with everyone. I don’t know if you’re real with me.” I don’t either, I think as the tears spring forward faster. I’m frantically searching for a shade of me to hold onto, one I like. It’s hard to find, personas slipping through fingers like sand. “I just…” I trail, hoping for an interruption, but you wait. “I’m a people-pleaser; I know what makes them feel good. I can read them well, I can understand their wants, so to ease some pain, I’ll be what they need.” Still Silence. The fullest, noisiest silence. Am I real? I thought so, with you, yes. With others? No. My parents need a good girl, who loves them like a child. My roommate needs someone to ***** with her, bend to her will, be her punching bag. Your roommates need a girl with ***** someone to shoot **** like they do. Someone to ignore sexism, and racism, hate speeches, and ***** jokes. My school friends need a quirky weird girl who’ll never say no. My teachers need a hard-worker. My boss needs more availability. I need quiet. I need love. I need to find myself in a maze of personas. Each only slightly different. Then I realize, I’m me already. I don’t need to find myself, I’m here waiting, I just need room to grow. RoomToBreathe. So I light a match, set fire to the maze, and watch as all the lies go up in flames.
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16
Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally. Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love. We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling. The initial look that begins as taste. Naturally we are starved. Aroused by the scent that lures us close. This thing, love. One thing we must learn is self control. To not over indulge in the primary reason it exists. To selfishly take because it's there. This thing, love. Effort exudes as it becomes habit. Being placed at a table readily available for what portion comes next. This need becomes confused with want. To please others before our need in unselfish manner. A straight forward response to habit. The rising availability of also being taken for granted. The insurmountable outline that defines lust. Our intake becomes higher attempting to justify the difference. Thus we become lazy. Reacting in ways we normally wouldn't. This thing, love. This scent acts as incentive,  instantly attracted by which we over indulge. Searching for this thing, love. It's a reasonable thing. Knowing when to reach. When to pull. When to give and sacrifice. Almost always all of these happen, learning self control, vocalizing when we've had our fill. Else we will continue to eat until there is nothing left. Grown obese. This thing, love
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Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
This Thing, Love
We don't appreciate what we have until we lose it We don't see the glow on the skin until we bruise it We don't believe in miracles until we need it We don't appreciate farming until there's famine We don't appreciate water availability until there's water scarcity We don't appreciate wealth until we see poverty We don't appreciate good health until we experience infirmity We don't appreciate democracy until we see tyranny We don't appreciate loyalty until we see jealousy We don't appreciate liberty until we see slavery!
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
Appreciate
Existing in this infinite stream. Observing the towering waterfall above me. Seeking a peaceful habitat, liberation and re-birth anywhere except here. This excessive baggage I bear, fighting against the current. Wondering why I started at the bottom of this waterfall, while others, at the top. Detained by unrelenting forceful water, drowning me to the shadowed ground. Rubble marking and defacing my skin. Hiding and scared from the revolving threats. Burdened by understanding my surroundings. Currents throwing me around with availability. Examining the colors of life sparkling through the reflection of my water. Trapped in chaos, Starved for happiness, Losing hope in this dark stream. One day I will see the calm sunlit waters, I will swim past this abuse. © Jl 2015
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Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
Salmon
Brand: Aara Product Code: B-106 Reward Points: 49 Availability: In Stock Delivery Time: 10-12 DAYS All products sold on SKBMart.com are brand new and 100% genuine. Price:र4,555.00 Anushka Sharma wearing in Manish Malhotra's Lehenga Choli Designs. This cream colour looks elegeant on any complexion. Covered with sequins and beads graces up the beauty. Bottom is richly adorned while her Backless Choli is crafted with lots of pearls and beads, comes with Net see through stole with silver sequins scattered all over. The Color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. The difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for reference.Anushka Sharma wearing in Manish Malhotra's Lehenga Choli Designs. Cod india
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
AARA ANUSHKA SHARMA WEARING IN MANISH MALHOTRA CREAM LEHENGA CHOLI DESIGNS
oh what sustains this mind a mind that teeters on the edge of a spiral vertigo that sways and rocks in an unease of palpitations attempting to escape from the brutal insensitivity of the granite faces that occupy the streets a mind of hallucinated perceptions with a constant stream of imagery that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation, the articulation of its inner geography where a frightened availability of disturbance in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti leaves speech vacated on the tongue where eyes are pushed to see a discord of sympathies for different dimensions that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate living in an inner dialogue of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations a self alienation that heightens the poetic colouring of the imagination causes a ************ of the mind that makes me cripplingly aware of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum to do rather than be
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
to do rather than be
I am a certified expert in the sequential pushing of buttons, this pushing performed, on a good day, in concert with the expensively purchased, somewhat rare mental model of the workings of a recently commonplace variety of machine dependent at its core on the minuscule presence of increasingly-rare earth metals allowing for the conditional flow of groups of electrons. These machines, like their precursors, are further dependent on the supply of slightly less increasingly rare combustible material for which armed conflicts are routinely fought and many have died. My interest in the machines began at an early age, enticed by the illusion of control, and on the whole, I think, motivated by the idea that these machines processing information, the core mechanism of reality, might be used to create understanding. In the interceding years, it is increasingly apparent to me that while some are used for this purpose, most, like most things around me, are controlled and engaged by multi-personed organisms concerned primarily with: 1) self-preservation AND 2) the collection of, and limited divestment of, unit notions of rarefied value, insured by the existence of another similar organism valued for its 1) self- and nearby-environs preservation AND 2) recent track record of insuring continued relatively easy access to the aforementioned important combustible materials. —it is generally considered to people's credit that this notion of value is thus-derived and no longer as frequently derived by virtue of possessing a metal which, while of certain non-combustible use, is basically just pretty rare and really, really shiny. I find myself again shortly in a need of convincing such an organism that my button pushing is of sufficient quality, on sufficiently frequent good days, that it should consider me a temporary part thereof and divest, of itself to me, sufficient units of value that I might happily continue to push buttons on its behalf in the pursuit of further units. I am, for some reason, somewhat less than thrilled with this prospect finding it, despite its marketability, a maybe less than important enterprise. I am existentially concerned by the idea that my whole value may derive from my button pushing, and is thus further dependent on the availability of rare-earth metal and also-rare combustibles. In some delusion of importance amongst 7 billion plus similar primates and a unfathomably vast universe, I thought you might be interested to know
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Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
An Autobiography
I am a certified expert in the sequential pushing of buttons, this pushing performed, on a good day, in concert with the expensively purchased, somewhat rare mental model of the workings of a recently commonplace variety of machine dependent at its core on the minuscule presence of increasingly-rare earth metals allowing for the conditional flow of groups of electrons. These machines, like their precursors, are further dependent on the supply of slightly less increasingly rare combustible material for which armed conflicts are routinely fought and many have died. My interest in the machines began at an early age, enticed by the illusion of control, and on the whole, I think, motivated by the idea that these machines processing information, the core mechanism of reality, might be used to create understanding. In the interceding years, it is increasingly apparent to me that while some are used for this purpose, most, like most things around me, are controlled and engaged by multi-personed organisms concerned primarily with: 1) self-preservation AND 2) the collection of, and limited divestment of, unit notions of rarefied value, insured by the existence of another similar organism valued for its 1) self- and nearby-environs preservation AND 2) recent track record of insuring continued relatively easy access to the aforementioned important combustible materials. —it is generally considered to people's credit that this notion of value is thus-derived and no longer as frequently derived by virtue of possessing a metal which, while of certain non-combustible use, is basically just pretty rare and really, really shiny. I find myself again shortly in a need of convincing such an organism that my button pushing is of sufficient quality, on sufficiently frequent good days, that it should consider me a temporary part thereof and divest, of itself to me, sufficient units of value that I might happily continue to push buttons on its behalf in the pursuit of further units. I am, for some reason, somewhat less than thrilled with this prospect finding it, despite its marketability, a maybe less than important enterprise. I am existentially concerned by the idea that my whole value may derive from my button pushing, and is thus further dependent on the availability of rare-earth metal and also-rare combustibles. In some delusion of importance amongst 7 billion plus similar primates and a unfathomably vast universe, I thought you might be interested to know
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43
The movement of speech, speaking swiftly with eloquence alliterative, quixic, elloqution, enunciation, pitch, tone, intensity, sensivity, proper, and evident, prosody, and brilliant speaker, followed by a brilliant speech, we all would love to listen to a great idea. Or write down the secrets to success, to pay bills and not get hit on by voodoo. I heard them lye, lie, and then lie. Lye like ***** hands needing soap. Lie like there are no stars ever in the sky. Lie like in bed with a ghost, and then a ******* mindful of racists with a passing grade for the bar exam treated the 3 above outstanding resources to the trinity to tell us to work with an Oath. The availability to be independant is a solvency to a cross examination, and the property of freedom is a handsome reward if you can pry open the jar of Trinity. We wanted a badass to be the President and I know, that we just might get what we ask for. Remember to study your own favorite poets a dedication to a life in the fast lane of the most Amazing manner of all time. We may just be the newest monastery in the world. So when we all say something, like all 7 billion of us. We GET it. DO NOT F&%^$^$ TOUCH ME, EVER! Lol.
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
Talent
Distance knows, as distance grows, It's short and long It can raise the stakes and hopes. It can make you long for the edge, For the thing at the other side. Distance doesn't have to be in miles or in feet. Distance could be attitudes, expressions; In class, availability...victories or defeat... You are out of my reach, a distance away. I can't help but look your way and pray Praying you would notice me You may glace toward me, but its not what I want I just wish to gaze into your eyes And have you smile at me...only me. But two inches between us, Make it as if we have nothing to say, And we really have miles between us, And this distance grows each and every day. You're the king, the prince of hearts, While I a simple pawn who would melt to just get a glimpse of your face. This distance knows, and oh how quickly it grows At the end of this road... We'll never see each other again.
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Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
*Distance Hurts*
Maybe I only think I want you Because you're the only one Who's likely available to me But you're not him And I can't take advantage of you like that
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
availability
David Farrier shoes horses for a living Found himself in a life worth giving His whole life to see them from the gate And finish in life still believing that this race is not just worth trying But a pursuit of passing on the baton of Faith! He may pound it and nail it hard but David just won't let you run with your hooves dusted Oh how he used to shoe us eight times but be filled with the greatest gratitude as he was healed and learned that our hooves are two-divided Oh I think I need a pat on the back My hair doesn't feel like feeling the wind against it Oh that doesn't even rhyme But a few knows the songs of David as he was born in Rock Bottom He circled the town eight times and washed his hands as he allows himself very often Born with a so-called 'natural blindfold disease' he found himself a Savior clothed in the purest of fleece He asked David to hang for a while and His hand shaked with eternal availability While His friendship promised milk, cookies and eternal security Oh I might need a pat on the back The open gates of change welcomed by a gunshot noise usually freaks me out Oh can someone get me a rhyme book?
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
David Farrier
1: an economic good: as a : a product of agriculture or mining b : an article of commerce especially when delivered for shipment <commodities futures> c : a mass-produced unspecialized product <commodity chemicals> <commodity memory chips> 2 a : something useful or valued <that valuable commodity patience>; also : thing, entity b : convenience, advantage 3 obsolete : quantity, lot 4: a good or service whose wide availability typically leads to smaller profit margins and diminishes the importance of factors (as brand name) other than price 5: one that is subject to ready exchange or exploitation within a market <stars as individuals and as commodities of the film industry — Film Quarterly>
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
Commodity defined by Meriam-Webster (compare to humanity)
You know, I started smoking because of you. The availability of the cigarettes you had on hand when I saw you To be fair, when I was with you, you’d try your best to not smoke as I’d get dizzy But somehow I always gave in I asked for one while knowing this You’re just an analogy to cigarettes I know how bad you are for me Yet when I see you I can’t but help to dive in again Do it over and over again because as good as it feels it is so unhealthy for me I do it over and over again and I know it’s unhealthy but it just feels so good It’s toxic through and through The smoke etched on my lungs And I drown in you Now every time I’m offered a cigarette I can’t help but think of you I smoke them knowing they’re bad for me But somehow it gives me a connection to you Somehow smoking one makes me miss you It makes me feel you again And I hate it Oh how I hate it I know how bad it is for me — how toxic it is But somehow I can’t stop You’re just as bad for me as the cigarettes you once looked at me shocked by me asking for some Smoke fills my lungs and you fill my heart But as you keep coming back As I will keep getting cigarette after cigarette This feeling of self destruction is unfortunately never ending And truly, how does one find a conclusion to something everlasting? This pattern is circular. I stop and when I see you it starts again. I probably won’t ever cut you off. This pattern of self destruction will consume me, just as cigarettes take their victim (12/24/22; 12:45 am)
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Jul 11, 2023
Jul 11, 2023 at 8:35 AM UTC
A Reminder of You
You know, I started smoking because of you. The availability of the cigarettes you had on hand when I saw you To be fair, when I was with you, you’d try your best to not smoke as I’d get dizzy But somehow I always gave in I asked for one while knowing this You’re just an analogy to cigarettes I know how bad you are for me Yet when I see you I can’t but help to dive in again Do it over and over again because as good as it feels it is so unhealthy for me I do it over and over again and I know it’s unhealthy but it just feels so good It’s toxic through and through The smoke etched on my lungs And I drown in you Now every time I’m offered a cigarette I can’t help but think of you I smoke them knowing they’re bad for me But somehow it gives me a connection to you Somehow smoking one makes me miss you It makes me feel you again And I hate it Oh how I hate it I know how bad it is for me — how toxic it is But somehow I can’t stop You’re just as bad for me as the cigarettes you once looked at me shocked by me asking for some Smoke fills my lungs and you fill my heart But as you keep coming back As I will keep getting cigarette after cigarette This feeling of self destruction is unfortunately never ending And truly, how does one find a conclusion to something everlasting? This pattern is circular. I stop and when I see you it starts again. I probably won’t ever cut you off. This pattern of self destruction will consume me, just as cigarettes take their victim (12/24/22; 12:45 am)
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30
Guns Slick metallic Fully loaded sidekicks A right held higher than most Opinions vary, more or less For laws and restrictions For availability and freedom A country divided, a hot topic debate And while you ponder your side of the fence Remember that the leaders and lawmakers Prefer prayer as a means to relieve such tragedies There is no plan to change how things are There is no answer from the left There is no answer from the right Accepting complacency and prayers Prayers, which have done nothing, not a thing at all.
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Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
Complacency of Guns
. I'm one tissue shy of calamity, next to the last soul in humanity. I am one ounce of pride short of dignity, and one mph away from velocity. I'm in one town, you're intensity, a Master Charge away from identity. One aching tendon from flexibility, and one arc'd degree from the university. Happiness has lost it's frivolity, I have narrowed down my availability. Gumby has lost all elasticity. Will we live beyond infinity? I've never crossed the lines between serenity and insanity, has a poet's moon lost it's sensuality? I am one drink ahead of sobriety. The second to last to stand in society. The unforgivable sin elbows my morality, your pen sells your individuality. One jail bar between your vulnerability. Your down to earth qualities mock your vanity. My daddy never claimed me through paternity, I was the last kid standing in the maternity. And just when I thought this poem was through, you asked me to spend eternity with you.
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Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
~The Y's Have it!
Young chicken turned into fricassee How hot is your gravy? Such sizzling goodness Smells so fresh in the pan Having a fry Don't really know why Cooking at such high temperatures Makes me crazy this way But I've got to have you frizzle Cut tenders spitting grease about Think I'll dice up a side of Turnips, greens and roots There's an unwritten law about it Even so Availability finds comfort in handiness A little splash of wine on that Ought to make it all Come together
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
Bird In The Pan
Re: Your Availability Is it this yours or mine? Only time will define the kind of charm that you chime when you're dropping your line in my ears I will find.
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Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Bound
Organizing books Answering calls about the availability of books This is the role of the librarian I am watching them in action now Looks like a fun position to have I don't have a position I just wander from place to place
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
Librarians
Navigating these new age jungles City species run through the curious dark Thinking now is the time to be alive As we stay out late enough to watch the sunrise From suicidal heights We stay awake to watch our minds commit themselves to their ultimate demise Once bustling brains become a barren tundra Their city thoughts die Bodies still moving with the beat Thoughts experience defeat Conquered by the never ending Availability of bad decisions We are the buildings with out ceilings We want another round We are badasses without feelings (At least we pretend to be with our looks and our sounds) ~ Messes in dresses running through empty city streets After the voices of those we love whispered They would never let us go And proceeded to do just so Learning to articulate from rap songs Not resisting the urge to emulate our bad influences Lot of love Lot of hate **** karma when you can’t discern What’s good from what is wrong It’s all going to break Down the hollow factory’s stairs Where we ruin our lives without compunction And brag about who we will impress With the mistakes we said we’d made
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC
Full Speed Ahead to Some Place We Will Never Find
Multiple beautiful faces, immaculate complexions, and precise, practiced grins. It's easy to understand why it makes me thirsty; they invented bottled bliss, eagerly and professionally selling: beauty, happiness, companionship--- all for the price of $1.50 with tax at the cost of only my dignity. Affordability and availability, it's no wonder it's high in demand. The American success story: to sell simple desires to the lazy, naïve man, who believes he can't obtain them otherwise.
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC
"Bottled Bliss"
Each new vision of a sunset inspires a glimmer of hope Illuminating the depths of darkness Reminding us of the availability Freely given by mother nature Encouraging us to nurture the soul By finding peace and tranquility Resting in the palm of such beauty
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Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
A sunset
digital availability around the clock after a while begins to feel like permanent responsibility your friends expect you to be online all the time whether you like it or not so they can share with you their daily trivia of personal condition, discount shopping, their dog’s health, the children’s good, their problems with their partners, etcetera etcetera I know it’s nice to hit a button and hear the ringing of the other’s phone the voice responding to your call it’s fine when there are no alternatives and yet somehow the electronic chat confirms more than redeems presence of absence of the person I feel like talking to an avatar a disembodied voice that has a virtual existence yet whose life in the real world still needs to be asserted by meeting – and talking – in a café or simply on the street
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May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
connected 24/7
On a trip ship to Saturn Nine I met this chick on the gunner deck she was a class one warrior, just like me we kissed and showed our availability She took me there and then I hoped it would never end she slapped me around and gave me such a licking I drop kicked her over the dining table and she nutted me in the face you have to be hard core military when you are fighting out in space All the grunts were cheering giving us the go go go that day fired me up, I was in such a stupor that's when I lost my virginity to a starship trooper Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
Saturn Nine