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"avowed" poems
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
African Woman
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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98
Leaves stripped bare, The clump of a nest Now so obvious, but since abandoned Past residents won't care. This morn, winter flavored branches Sweet confections that beckoned. Black in twilight, the silhouettes Look again as barren, Swaying spindly fingers And counting stars Which today seem so far. Once I reached up and plucked Those winking sparkles to sprinkle A pillow I shared, Though glowing duller amid dreams That shined in young eyes. Their beams became beacons, Joining hearts across oceans So that distance wouldn't matter. It was in absence dread fate dared, Soon setting ancient lights to falter, Dimming, dying through time's haze. Oh, how long ago did I last gaze Upon exciting skies as this! Certain of the hopes and promise Avowed within those sparks held. T'was briefest of life's moments, Most rare and intense, Never again finding its day Save in ambush of memory On a night like this When wind blows bitter and swift. Brilliance still dances, but ever so far away
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Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 4:36 PM UTC
Starry Night
There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly over the perceived salience of his musings    It was as if there were a veiled mystique that left hopeful understanding ,                    ambiguously obscured ... His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale , like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,                    drowning acumen ; albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions , scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye                     Illusive accord ,                     beclouded by seeming stigmas                     borne of the flesh ;                     delicately sensitive nuances ,                     misunderstood imperfections ,                     bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ... In the hush of pensive repose , flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ; bequeathed as if darkness was magnetically drawn towards light , purging muted understanding ...                     Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,                     accepting , that all answers sought                     are not meant to be understood A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ; the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved , befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat , understanding a circle is vulnerable , only makes it stronger ―                     hence ,..                     it had been written                     in countless misunderstood ways ... Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ , tattooed on introspective walls far removed from the afterglow of light , where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;                     heart speak hushed , deft words avowed                     in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper                     soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow                     from unseen depths , permeating                     deeply within inner realms The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :                "Spell words that bind together passing strangers                    *Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone                  Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual                  hearts and minds with words of love and light.                    Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,                  a faith in unabated love*" and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words …words grasped from emerging thoughts                    drawn in to the light                    searching for other adept words                    to recite yet another way ,                    sketch another word-scape ,                    written with the relentless inexhaustibleness                    of an unstoppable awakening ...   Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light                    he will write it again and again ,                                           ... finding another way to be set free ...                                                                  Harlon Rivers
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Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
A fog that seemed to hover ...
There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly over the perceived salience of his musings    It was as if there were a veiled mystique that left hopeful understanding ,                    ambiguously obscured ... His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale , like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,                    drowning acumen ; albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions , scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye                     Illusive accord ,                     beclouded by seeming stigmas                     borne of the flesh ;                     delicately sensitive nuances ,                     misunderstood imperfections ,                     bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ... In the hush of pensive repose , flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ; bequeathed as if darkness was magnetically drawn towards light , purging muted understanding ...                     Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,                     accepting , that all answers sought                     are not meant to be understood A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ; the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved , befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat , understanding a circle is vulnerable , only makes it stronger ―                     hence ,..                     it had been written                     in countless misunderstood ways ... Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ , tattooed on introspective walls far removed from the afterglow of light , where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;                     heart speak hushed , deft words avowed                     in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper                     soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow                     from unseen depths , permeating                     deeply within inner realms The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :                "Spell words that bind together passing strangers                    *Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone                  Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual                  hearts and minds with words of love and light.                    Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,                  a faith in unabated love*" and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words …words grasped from emerging thoughts                    drawn in to the light                    searching for other adept words                    to recite yet another way ,                    sketch another word-scape ,                    written with the relentless inexhaustibleness                    of an unstoppable awakening ...   Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light                    he will write it again and again ,                                           ... finding another way to be set free ...                                                                  Harlon Rivers
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61
The Paragliders like ravenous vultures flew to southern Israel to predate on soft targets. Like swarms of bees, they snuck, ***** maimed, shot, burnt and slew. Terror did every man's fragile conscience becloud. Hate made their embittered hearts to mercy forget. Abductions followed, having to terror avowed. Then came the IDF's genocidal intent, having intended global laws to circumvent; Children, women, all consumed by mighty vengeance. A disproportionate response beyond balance. Homes, hospitals, Mosques, Churches and schools are levelled, as Gaza is by torrents of bombs bedeviled. I do not with a livid Israel sympathize, nor do I with a besieged Gaza empathize. With humanity I have my affinity, for my deep love for it, tends to infinity.
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Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 4:37 AM UTC
Black October
Taming of the Shrew I would do anything for you, trembling avowed, summer swept sweet lipped, sugar dipped surrender I become: a Victorian sonnet  sailing; the river banks of Seine when you are near, thirsty love , bistro champagne oils, parasols and bubbling dreams, tickle all my senses shimmering of moonlight kisses breathe into me the lights of shooting fire flowers, and my errant tongue is stilled.
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
Taming of the Shrew
Pure achromatic, immaculate egg, sits in a nest. Shaking and rustling, exploding at its best. Once hatched it latched to its mother’s wit. For the hatchling knew that she needed it. The dove it flourished as a dove should, And it grew so beautiful as beautiful as she could. Now with integrity and innocence, The dove knew to find love, it would finally make sense. My Dove found love of the falsest facets, Honeyed words of lust; they lack it. Flattering gestures that quicken heart beats Do often allow the dove to glide off her feet. But Honeyed words don’t often last, And soon that love became her past, And now she wanders lonely in the clouds, But this kind of love attracts only nimbus clouds Of which to them she was avowed. Now a dove, Is indeed a symbol of love, But love so pure and true, The kind of love That is common to a dove Hunger for it, a yearning sensation within you. Hunger, Thriving, Craving for this feeling of being complete, But can’t you see that dependency leads to obsolete. You will never be you, You’ll be the both of you. Is that what you want? You want, you need to be someone’s gaunt Old, decrepit partner? Not I, I am alone, But not lonely. I am empty Yet complete. I am moist, Yet dry as a desert. I am me, Yet no one at all.
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
Achromatic Beauty
All I remember is remembering it hurt, memories are haunting me now and reality altered into doubts. The pale moonlit night is full of futile tears, crying for the hands that once held me. The hurricane in my heart is crashing down all my senses and changing those that was in greater good into countless worsts. It is inevitable, and killing me within, and I was left nowhere cursing the wind. Every bridge I built was already burned; the particular journey of this avowed love is now over. And all I remember is remembering it hurt.
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
Cursing The Wind
Wishing I could avast Everything that happens so fast Dreaming of ourselves beneath thy clouds Rolling and laughing between those strouds I was holding his soft hands We were lying on the meadowlands Leaned on my broad shoulders When he avowed that "I must be stronger". Days had never been this lovely All I can hear is our hearts' on melody However the music went go wrong His last smile was the last song Lips became pale as rose It can't even make a single prose His eyes slowly close This is not the future we chose Wished that I could avast Everything happened so fast Wanted to take his last breath But All I can give is this wreath for his death
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
Everything happens so fast
A married couple built a home. They filled it with sustenance, carried trouble from the mist Shrugged their tired shoulders and said, "the heck with it." A few months later, they worked diligently to make ends meet and settled with three. The first was science; his eyes black to the depths of feelings catered by human beings. He had no ambitions; Life carried for him, no mission He settled with a distant universe Lost to the world, cradled by the stars. The second was art; her eyes open to life's imagery, Frivolous to reality, Living in fantasy, Outwardly misplaced in a world confined, By laws and walls that vex her open mind. She sees the universe in people; The color they shine from souls, divine While the world just comes and goes. The third was physics; Always in motion, unable to rest, Fixed in her thinking, quick to protest the world's catastrophes offsetting her inertia, Grounded by gravity bound by rule, Drugged by ambition avowed to a criteria, Where everything needs fixing and she is the tool. In the company of such diversity, Option created the university. Send your offspring there. Tell them to learn what is worth knowing: That change is infinite and life keeps going, and love has no limits, it keeps on growing, as long as there is air to breath and feelings worth showing. In the end it comes down to chemistry, But the result always varies; Creating a creature of beauty From acceptance and unity That carries on the legacy, Of subjective company. Sometimes, the unexpected can be so lovely.
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Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 11:46 PM UTC
Subjective Company: Results May Vary
A married couple built a home. They filled it with sustenance, carried trouble from the mist Shrugged their tired shoulders and said, "the heck with it." A few months later, they worked diligently to make ends meet and settled with three. The first was science; his eyes black to the depths of feelings catered by human beings. He had no ambitions; Life carried for him, no mission He settled with a distant universe Lost to the world, cradled by the stars. The second was art; her eyes open to life's imagery, Frivolous to reality, Living in fantasy, Outwardly misplaced in a world confined, By laws and walls that vex her open mind. She sees the universe in people; The color they shine from souls, divine While the world just comes and goes. The third was physics; Always in motion, unable to rest, Fixed in her thinking, quick to protest the world's catastrophes offsetting her inertia, Grounded by gravity bound by rule, Drugged by ambition avowed to a criteria, Where everything needs fixing and she is the tool. In the company of such diversity, Option created the university. Send your offspring there. Tell them to learn what is worth knowing: That change is infinite and life keeps going, and love has no limits, it keeps on growing, as long as there is air to breath and feelings worth showing. In the end it comes down to chemistry, But the result always varies; Creating a creature of beauty From acceptance and unity That carries on the legacy, Of subjective company. Sometimes, the unexpected can be so lovely.
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42
Old crippled man, charcoal burnt and ashen, a thousand days debauchery molded you in this fashion. Haggard and stiff, you can barely walk across the stage-- no one ever thought that you would make it to this age. Your girth has expanded (although it’s covered well), but still your piercing voice summons demons up from hell. Not as strong as it was once, but eerie just the same, calling those who’ve followed you, who now chant your name, to assemble in our legions, gathered in this shrine, where we repeat the catechism, in throbbing metered rhymes. Are you a madman? Or just a troubadour who lends melodic shimmer to verses dark and dour. Whose singing slides and skims along the edge of sanity, but who never surrendered to the true evil of vanity. Recovered from drunken, dissolute despair, to call the faithful masses back, never mind the wear and tear-- to plod the journey of your craft, to sing before the crowd whose loyalty, to your band, forever is avowed.
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Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
The Troubadour (an ode to Ozzy Osbourne)
i am crying out loud it falls on deaf ears my pain is avowed but only death hears air is just a cloud which my breath fears my end is my shroud created by less cares this agony is endowed tested by my best years only silence is allowed where only death hears (A big thank you to all the ones who have ever read my words)
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
where only death hears
Though your body has vanished from my daily grind I find solace in what is left behind Every moment, minute, and second of time Is vividly retained in my mind. Your soul meets me nightly as I dream aloud Taking me on tantalizing flights among wispy clouds Retracing your touches from love avowed Conjuring heated encounters in a thundercloud. © Tina Thompson
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Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
Night Sweats
As I lie on this final pyre of life high, Atop scented logs burning, that sigh, Agni,the fire god great,cleansing me truly, Asks,how was your life my Son? so kindly. Askance,through the walls of fire,I look, At your gentle face, of deep sadness a book, Avowed to be bound,in grieving heat shimmered, And Answer, O lord, you burned inside me great, Also in my loved one,guiding our fiery paths of fate. Aflame and lit by you was it,In knowledge supreme, All we did was fly, like moths to the inferno serene, Aiming at this blaze final,meant always, in your divinity. Alas now my time ends,I know but its your flame eternal, Always uniting,bonding our love, burning bright together. Amidst now your flaming graces, I Thank you,as me you gather, Aching in this lovely embrace, for my alter love,to meet in future farther!
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
My last Dialogue with the Fire-god-" A" Poem.
Your eyes dwell on the frailty of my ****** structure. Yet, you find it pulchritudinous. What makes it? I have no idea, what you see. I am as reckless as a child, but it was my sophistication that you’ve chosen to descry. Your hands linger on my skin, caressing every bit of insanity and fragility, needing leniency. What are you sensing? I have no idea, what you perceive. I am as sober as the night sky minus the stars, but you avowed your benevolence towards my desolation. Hence, you hefted such joy inflamed such felicity that was lost. What are you begetting? I have an idea, reciprocation, it is. ♥
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Reciprocation
I’ve grown weary of those who claim A false tense of enlightenment So bored of vast displays Of neon pigments and entitlement For where the fairies walk And spirit hooded figures talk I cannot find, cannot divine Where soul and ego bear to walk… ( in unison ) So permissive is this culture, That I feel the eyes of vulture Preying on the weak and un-avowed In what kind of world is this allowed (to continue?) But who am I to question, The laws, the rites of these transgressions I am merely just an actor An inconsequential factor But I do I dare deny That in your dogma there’s a lie For all the glitter in the world Cannot turn **** into a pearl
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Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
Culture
Take flight! Bright Iris, cirrus sunken cloud; Paint heralds through azure unblemished skies, So all may witness your wild repose avowed, Reflected and collected for reprise. I rise, soft solemn dreams with you so high, And oft decry that chasmic space between, Where spread across angelic wings we lie/die Our temporary deaths down deep ravine. Now over the rainbow Destiny she stirs; Her prismic glances scatter spectral Sun, And Moon with endless eternal eclipse, Awaits the Synchronist to come. Awake! Dear dreamer you alone I see; A ghost, a dream, the rise of Mercury.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
Sonnet #2
You say it so casually "Mine." As though by saying it Then it is meant to be You repeated it when I Denied For I fully know you are not "Mine." Our history forbids it All sources say against it How could we begin again With everything left so unsaid You still hurt And still seek others Then describe what you want It's me And you know it And still want it And want it to not be me I'd say go **** yourself But I wouldn't really mean it In spite of your stupidity And avowed non-commitment I still love you I'm willing to let you hurt me Because when you leave I want you to see this time That under no circumstances Did you tell the truth When you said "Mine."
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Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 3:07 AM UTC
Mine
In different men beat different hearts O, love alights on many boughs. Our fires burn whole worlds apart Enamored well but not avowed. O, love alights on many boughs And branches sway in violent storm. Enamored well but not avowed The wind rocks branches, bark is torn. And branches sway in violent storm So suffered men embrace in shame. The wind rocks branches, bark is torn And heads of state denounce their names. So suffered men embrace in shame To swallow judgement, dim and slant. And heads of state denounce their names For fear they too hold sinful hands. To swallow judgement, dim and slant Abnormal partners yet still wait. For fear they too hold sinful hands The ruling men keep vice at bay. Abnormal partners yet still wait Not biting back but biding time. The ruling men keep vice at bay Too thick to see past party lines. Not biting back but biding time Our fires burn whole worlds apart. Too thick to see, past party lines, In different men beat different hearts. -c. c. Condry
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Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 8:26 PM UTC
For The Queer
The one great enemy of all of those that perceive, is doubt. How it floods my watering mind, leaves me crashing amongst the waves of esteem and confidence. When I am least aware, that is when the little viral thoughts return. Infecting all that I am, and all that I am trying to become. Time so constant that what has happened, has transpired only to lead us to what is happening, and what will happen. It is what it is. What it is not, it cannot ever be. My past is what must be embraced in order for me to move forward. Years have passed, bringing me forth to this very moment where I am finally ready and willing to do just that; embrace what I cannot change. A wild memory of a memory, it was your words that reawakened a purpose, a meaning, a way of life within me. I will not be a prisoner of doubt if I willingly choose not to do so. The chains I unknowingly placed around my very mind have left scars; wounds that have become a commitment to my flesh. A girl once told me, when I made my self vulnerable to her with my inner workings, that my scars can only tell a story of which I was once in pain, and have now healed. I now understand that the those wounds within, the wounds that were not visible to the eye, cannot heal if they are not avowed. I was so fearful of looking into that which confines me, acknowledging that I was damaged, that I was only allowing myself to continue a life of pain. For too long my afflicted heart and mind was rotting and decaying inside. All because I was choosing a path of ignorance. But here I am awake, and ready to accept that which breaks my heart. Knowing that if i let it break now, the process of healing can begin.
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Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 6:30 PM UTC
Fulfillment of One's Own Potential
The one great enemy of all of those that perceive, is doubt. How it floods my watering mind, leaves me crashing amongst the waves of esteem and confidence. When I am least aware, that is when the little viral thoughts return. Infecting all that I am, and all that I am trying to become. Time so constant that what has happened, has transpired only to lead us to what is happening, and what will happen. It is what it is. What it is not, it cannot ever be. My past is what must be embraced in order for me to move forward. Years have passed, bringing me forth to this very moment where I am finally ready and willing to do just that; embrace what I cannot change. A wild memory of a memory, it was your words that reawakened a purpose, a meaning, a way of life within me. I will not be a prisoner of doubt if I willingly choose not to do so. The chains I unknowingly placed around my very mind have left scars; wounds that have become a commitment to my flesh. A girl once told me, when I made my self vulnerable to her with my inner workings, that my scars can only tell a story of which I was once in pain, and have now healed. I now understand that the those wounds within, the wounds that were not visible to the eye, cannot heal if they are not avowed. I was so fearful of looking into that which confines me, acknowledging that I was damaged, that I was only allowing myself to continue a life of pain. For too long my afflicted heart and mind was rotting and decaying inside. All because I was choosing a path of ignorance. But here I am awake, and ready to accept that which breaks my heart. Knowing that if i let it break now, the process of healing can begin.
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11
The Inner most House Outer distain the walls contain The rhythms divine deepest well Outward debris fasten so well The plaintive soul does swell It inventories the coastal tides The pirating the savage overthrow Of purity at its center and seat All betrayed nothing good left to know Abuse at the bases level silent cry Peace was sold it will never be told Only the most forlorn deadly sigh But it only has the voice of the dead Nothing living pays it any mind All the days of life it warned of dread But it was taken as error and was misread The caldron glowed the body was bowed Trouble grew wild without restraint All the value and great truths it avowed Tossed on the trash heap nothing left to do but weep You killed the guardian placed to give life its greatest good You wonder lifeless all that is filled with disgust does seep Now you eat from a poisonous bin filled to the brim Turn here there nowhere is there rest How long will you plod the ghostly waste? Turn back confess I lost all that was best Out ward tears will restore all that was royal and chaste
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Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 5:26 AM UTC
The Inner most House
You could blame it on how she got turned inside out or you could blame it on who she was. You could give her pill after pill and pray she's not ill, but her mind will not subside. She sees the doors dancing and hear the white noise She hears suicide calls and it is not her own voice. She either feels with no choice or feels nothing at all, everyone knows, but they just watch her fall. She hits the floor with a scream still nobody hears. She's been forced to go on and swallow her fears. But the voices drag on, and they all seem so loud-- reprimanding her for being avowed. So feelings of hate and dread rush back in the voices scream 'FAILURE', so she'll never win. She's been told before that she was insane but they took her away, and nothing was the same.
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Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 6:56 PM UTC
The Words We Solemnly Swore to Never Say
A swarm of angry gulls is whirling overhead. Our breaths both reek of *** And there's a fire on the deck. Baby, grab what you can while the grabbing's good. We misread all the maps and we misunderstood the pulling of the currents in our poison blood.                     So we'll split up                 the spoils in the hold.      Yeah, then we'll send this ****** below. I'm laughing in the rain, drinking in the Crow's Nest. You're inhaling all the smoke from the flames down on the deck. You're crying in the wind. I'm leaping in the drink. You're tangled in the rigging ain't ya, babe? This ship's begun to sink. You're always ****** I'm sick             of your **** So let's raid this leaky schooner, then we'll scuttle it. Baby, grab what you can while the grabbing's up. We ****** up reading stars and the compass now. Avowed we'd only drift until the tide went out. But we're lost and favored winds ain't enough. Buddy, grab what you can while the grabbing's good. We misread all the maps and we misunderstood the torrents and the waves in our raging blood.                     So let's split up           all the plunder in the hold.      And then we'll send this ****** below.
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Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
Martyr on the High Seas!
interlocking Complex(cities) a fortunate mixed complexion comprising of liberating schemes. the unnatural routine followed by beings with hindered genes i see them upload themselves in a virtual scene. i look up to them, twice binocular vision remix the visuals with binaural beats to keep me levitating before breaking into a fragmented piece. they’ve preached their nuisance to me i’ve definitely caught an anomaly i’ve heard them fabricating speech into something humble and noble i’ll wait till it’s my turn to be insidious i’ll spit radiation like Chernobyl to obliterate the ever growing regime. molecular regain they speak up to my senses to attain the consent of the eternal and beyond with an upright movement momentum i gain from forthcoming sonder while wandering down to the streets you’re listening to city dreams lean back, chime in with psychedelic scenes peripheral context sidetracked to prevent hindrance from the beings that are of obscene nature i’ve seen a lot of those nurturing themselves by ******* onto the future still stuck up on the yet coming past trying to get grips on the titular concept there’s authority with the ones who kept it flowing rugged strength no guffawing headed straight to the delirious ends of the rope always falling but never out of hope the stream that quenches the guilt of those showing up with guns just to pinch a loaf exterior combats come back to the present im here to steal the philosopher’s stone getting ****** just to soar above the stratosphere i went straight out of the blue sphere where i got to see the blues that fill up the majority of the crust ****** back to my grounds the velocity burned my rust thats a leap higher than the nukes you trust get to my location ask the Everest where im at it’ll point up to me and i’ll wave back but there’s a truth thats yet to be told i held the meeting of gods that weren’t sold nobody showed up neither the young nor the old except avowed fakes that claim to be woke
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Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 1:19 AM UTC
Interlocking Complexities
interlocking Complex(cities) a fortunate mixed complexion comprising of liberating schemes. the unnatural routine followed by beings with hindered genes i see them upload themselves in a virtual scene. i look up to them, twice binocular vision remix the visuals with binaural beats to keep me levitating before breaking into a fragmented piece. they’ve preached their nuisance to me i’ve definitely caught an anomaly i’ve heard them fabricating speech into something humble and noble i’ll wait till it’s my turn to be insidious i’ll spit radiation like Chernobyl to obliterate the ever growing regime. molecular regain they speak up to my senses to attain the consent of the eternal and beyond with an upright movement momentum i gain from forthcoming sonder while wandering down to the streets you’re listening to city dreams lean back, chime in with psychedelic scenes peripheral context sidetracked to prevent hindrance from the beings that are of obscene nature i’ve seen a lot of those nurturing themselves by ******* onto the future still stuck up on the yet coming past trying to get grips on the titular concept there’s authority with the ones who kept it flowing rugged strength no guffawing headed straight to the delirious ends of the rope always falling but never out of hope the stream that quenches the guilt of those showing up with guns just to pinch a loaf exterior combats come back to the present im here to steal the philosopher’s stone getting ****** just to soar above the stratosphere i went straight out of the blue sphere where i got to see the blues that fill up the majority of the crust ****** back to my grounds the velocity burned my rust thats a leap higher than the nukes you trust get to my location ask the Everest where im at it’ll point up to me and i’ll wave back but there’s a truth thats yet to be told i held the meeting of gods that weren’t sold nobody showed up neither the young nor the old except avowed fakes that claim to be woke
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An pleasant night...Amore mild ,than wild. You..zoomin,stumbling,moving alright for my most,minimised sets of vision insights. Made in...moved in for meeting without no consciences of moonshine. We Smiled..it shined,tough to deny the uprise..the valued climb. Where everything seems to rhyme. Or was i at the center of meltdown on my melting point.And you kept mesmerising. It took a'while to memorise..you were too mazed to measurise,to my surprise. Or was it you,on the monocyclic ride in &off; my mind.And i'd still moo down like an moonbeam ,my way. Morphed down,above some waves...moss hags, mrches across our way,the muted disguise. Dis-mantling apart my motor cortex and hers as well. Motoring,defflexing us far away Misprized off,what we hold of we were misplaced...mislayed so cruel,the perfect mishap. Waving off,from the monstrance of our  retraction irreticulating without no demise Avowed i stood by..Upon those marks,beyond the maze of multiplicated edges 'Hope they'll know..Coz we knw weGA
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
few fine sights.