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"bannered" poems
Black blueberries buttoned by ***** Black blueberries buttoned by ***** This wasn't yours to loose Nothing was yours to loose Black blueberries backed by bench men Bench men that sit on side lines Thinking When will the golden moment be To break through; proving themselves Worthy of the benched boxes they be in Everyday Because They believe in benevolence Black blueberries busting through my ***** Black blueberries busting through my ***** Better than bullets Better than bullets Better than bombs and turrets Better than ballistic knifes and skillets And arsenals of ignorance bettered with bills Bills I pay to ensure my life is ready to die Is it a matter of our collective thoughts? Those black blueberries are buried And not because I am becoming a black blueberry I say this But because life begins with black blueberries Who all turn into nothing but pale ***** All conformed Not to natural laws But to the cognitive bacterial infection Called education Turning us to blue blueberries Blue blueberries And grand building bannered with ******** Black blueberries are bored Black blueberries are right Black blueberries are always right…
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Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Black Blueberries:
The monotone of the rain is beautiful, And the sudden rise and slow relapse Of the long multitudinous rain. The sun on the hills is beautiful, Or a captured sunset sea-flung, Bannered with fire and gold. A face I know is beautiful-- With fire and gold of sky and sea, And the peace of long warm rain.
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2.1k
Monotone
~~ First & Foremost ~~~ a friendly competition, not of erudition, more a contest of speedy eruption *who will be first, for quenching their thirst, on not any but only every, day of their togetherness, to declare, swear, affirm, that their love for the other is the greater* a race where both win, by crossing the ever-moving forward, the unfinished line a never static series, much more than merely being a claimant of a trite first place, more akin to momentarily being at the head of an unending mathematical progression, (1 + 1 > 2) solvable if and when leap frogging over each other, extending their combined reach *when one is first to pronounce this daily blessing at the beginning of the new awakening twenty four, of their joint custodied imprimatur, silently implied, I love you with a simple syrup summary* first and foremost one, if by pillowed whisper two, if by text *a succint messag to the other, their love is coming fresh direct, with an invading intensio, deserving recognition that a new edition will be published on this very day, with the same exact freshly steaming coffee'd, bannered headline, that my love for you, my darling sweetheart is* first and foremost condensing with a yellowing smiley face, in these illiterate days of emoticons, unacceptable, yellow carded, though summarizing acceptable as **F & F or 1st/most** formats that have been adjudged to be an A-Ok entry, in the contest without a foreseeable ending and *that no one, but only both, can possess the winning record* ~~~
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Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
F & F (1st/most)
~~ First & Foremost ~~~ a friendly competition, not of erudition, more a contest of speedy eruption *who will be first, for quenching their thirst, on not any but only every, day of their togetherness, to declare, swear, affirm, that their love for the other is the greater* a race where both win, by crossing the ever-moving forward, the unfinished line a never static series, much more than merely being a claimant of a trite first place, more akin to momentarily being at the head of an unending mathematical progression, (1 + 1 > 2) solvable if and when leap frogging over each other, extending their combined reach *when one is first to pronounce this daily blessing at the beginning of the new awakening twenty four, of their joint custodied imprimatur, silently implied, I love you with a simple syrup summary* first and foremost one, if by pillowed whisper two, if by text *a succint messag to the other, their love is coming fresh direct, with an invading intensio, deserving recognition that a new edition will be published on this very day, with the same exact freshly steaming coffee'd, bannered headline, that my love for you, my darling sweetheart is* first and foremost condensing with a yellowing smiley face, in these illiterate days of emoticons, unacceptable, yellow carded, though summarizing acceptable as **F & F or 1st/most** formats that have been adjudged to be an A-Ok entry, in the contest without a foreseeable ending and *that no one, but only both, can possess the winning record* ~~~
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Dominating democracy The current debonair Popular rule world over Parties playfully bannered Need to be well mannered Dreamed deemed democracy Of the people, for the people Cozy easy essence of electoral pulpit An elusive mirage of political outfit Exciting polls parlour Power crazy parties Seat savvy leaders Alluring elections Festoon of manifesto Tuned and tutored motto Voters’ votes wide divide Soapy sops sweep success Massive mandate despise Despite passive poll Empower modern emperor His rising raging entourage Poles apart; ex-party departs Next party takes part Polls uphold democracy Parties unfold idiosyncrasy Polls are tools of power pools
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
Polemics of Politics
Lets glorify our sickness Lets shout it loud and proudly face down on our wrongs blindly Wave flags of bannered shroud Lets pacify our flaws erase them each and all the guise of law inconspicuous with views of bathrooms and walls A dictatorships edict a fanatical revel those who do not fall in line are threatened fires of hell Let us voice the few and bicker among the many degrade those of need and elate those who have plenty Lets celebrate how we are free by mimicking celebrities Wasting away behind our screens merrily flashing and screaming repeat after me. . repeat after me. . repeat after me.
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
US
I took my love to Talby Faire And there, the world seemed right   To cut the chill that knit the air   She clothed herself in white Her gown, appearing linen A silken symphony to touch   Although the night was bleeding out   In us there was no rush My jacket was a tattered swatch Some dead man's wife's donation   Acquired many years ago   When I was not so cold and thin Her perfume made a different muse At the neck and at the wrist-   I'm sorry but I'd rather there be rope   On both, with scent betwixt And as the night, that pale blue mage Worked magic over Talby Strait   I wandered toward the bannered stage   The bone white moon had made And on the wood, three skeletons All gentlemen, prepared,   Took to the task of violins   And music made they there And in that din I lost her- She's a stranger now to me   I'm left to bow my violin   And wail to Talby's eaves I took my love to Talby Faire We hardly knew each other then-    Strange music that the moon allowed   Has made us strangers once again - Brian Bigley
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
Talby Faire
While I try to get myself out of bed she glistens in the distance rubbing it in, hues of pink and gold bannered across the midriff of her soaring buildings reminding me of her flawlessness and another day sold
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Dec 2, 2021
Dec 2, 2021 at 6:20 PM UTC
3:54 pm in Manhattan
*it hits too close to home topples your comfort zone intimate diatribes are all but gone whatever your choice, you voice-- truth declared with poetic poise bannered in bright coloured noise* ●○ °
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
whatever your choice
When will you stop Hiding in the bushes, Of bannered hourglass And deal breaker muses, Of mysterious voyages And undecoded patterns, Drenched in your lips Coated with wine; Guarded in sublime. When will you etch Your lone marches, Upbeat through spectrum Of your impulse purchase; Of the things you dream for And the extravagant churches, Of your complaints and pains, Of your rigid achievements. It's all mysteries And twisted verses; Of all the missed mid weeks Of all the inside curses; At the cohesiveness of stories With all the vague bars We are at the same range Fighting different wars. When will be the endings, Of should be happy endings; Of all the struggles and fake friends; Lurking in your future wedding. When is the moment, The blooming of the fields Your mornings and my night wields Raising our shields Improving our builds With all these crates We suppose to create Is it too late Or is worth the wait For time's sake Will you flake?
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Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Omega