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"barging" poems
A window flung open with drapes barging into the room, The sun's smug shine tells my toes that the rest of the world is awake, And so my eyes make their first journey into today's forever.
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Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC
joeun-thachin-eya (Good Morning)
Consuming useless videos and content Alone in my room To distract from the racing and hurtful Thoughts about you And it always works for a moment Or a minute or more Until the intrusive thoughts come back, Barging down my door I put it back up, re-screw the hinges And shut it And lay back down to consume more Mindless content
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Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC
Distractions
Every night i count the stars Sitting on the grass, Looking from a far. Every night I wish To capture all the stars To juggle them in my hands And put them in a jar. But i believe. If i do that... The sky will be losing its light The sky will be blank every night. Every time i think of it It feels not right To be selfish and greedy For taking all the starlight But your smile keeps on barging in my mind The memory of you being happy While watching the stars dance in the sky Suddenly i feel loneliness Knowing i will no longer see your smile "Please give the stars to me" That's what you said Before you Die
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
My Last Gift To You
Prowling through the undergrowth In our barging juggernaut, Ploughing the rolling hills of water, Which crease as the narrowboat sluggishly gliding past, Brushes the bulrushes like a tiger in the reeds. For four intrepid days Our film and photographs are empty to show, No sign, only missed whispers, Of the hummingbird blue blur. A darting flash cresting the morning chill, Regal turquoise stealthily steals Our attention, our focus, and our tiller Noses toward the bank hugger. And we have him. Small amber-royal fisherman, Eclipsing his heron heralds And the swans silent vigil In majestic lapis lazuli. Swift and sure he graces the water, Fisher King, Which bends beneath his dive. Resurfacing, his golden breast Mottled with silver minnow. There recluse in his exclusive spot, Fish foundering still in the ****** The kingfisher's poise frames his catch Aperture, shutter, captured shot.
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Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Kingfisher
Eyes of fear, Mouth of shock Because I never saw it coming. To the arena I return again, My darkest horror already starting. To my left, I turn to see my mother, Trying not to sob, As I rethink the memories I always had during summers At the Hob. Eyes wet, Arms tired, Barging through the door, While picturing the future And all the madness that's in store. Gale and Prim, My only treasures, Are soon to say goodbye. For this year in the Quarter Quell, No more will there be a tie. I'm deep in thought As I review the words For my last farewell, When I realize a secret for Haymitch That I can't wait to tell. To protect Peeta In this terrifying Quell Is my one and only goal, For I want him to come back to it And live peacefully In this district of coal. To be strong is what I think of While under the stars I lay. To be strong The only solution For I am the Mockingjay.
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
The Mockingjay
In moments of raging to the hospital, the jolts from the road, the squeal of the tires, and the tripping of your feet only multiply your anxiety. Delicacy is suspended amply in the air, hanging daintily on the thread of life and death. Delicacy is the soft and inconsistent beeping from the cardiac monitor. It controls your thoughts; yet is only a shadow on your radar. It shares the rhythm of the pounding in your head, and the thumping in your chest. You strain to shut everything out, leaving only the shy quiver of breathe slithering out from their lax lips. Their lips tremor under the reign of some foreign enemy, and their eyes flutter from an unseen truth. It is the suffering you wish to unburden them from, the pain you would inflict upon yourself in return for both their lives intact. Delicacy is a light fragrance, a mixture of disinfectant and sweat. Is it the scent of creating a life, or the imminent end of it? Beads of perspiration stream down your face and sting your eyes. The sweet caress of silk treads faintly underneath your fingertips. You rub the back of her hand, clammy and fragile. Rubbing the skin, you forget who the comfort is more for while footsteps pierce the stillness in the air. A figure dawned in white appears before you. Their form blurs in and out of focus, their voice a toneless muddle seeping through your cloud of stupor. Delicacy is a whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We can only save one of them." It is the realization that too much pressure, and two months premature, is a cocktail dyed with poison. She looks to you with eyes of understanding and acceptance. Delicacy is the collapsing of all you know. It is the berating of incoherent words tumbling from your lips for the pure sake of escaping. You're swiftly taken from the room, kicking and screaming to the hallway. The unsettling tick of the clock mocks your every fiber. You **** the void of silence with the tapping of your foot, taming yourself from barging your way into the room. With the screaming from the bed, the instinct of protection, the stiffening of your back, the nurse quickly ushers you back in. The soft and consistent rising of the baby's chest is surrounded with the light fragrance of life. The plush fibers of the yellow blanket tug on the skin of your fingertips. The fascination apparent in your eyes, look to her while wondering how this little body will have the biggest impact on your life. Delicacy is the soft whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We made it."
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Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
Delicate Friction
In moments of raging to the hospital, the jolts from the road, the squeal of the tires, and the tripping of your feet only multiply your anxiety. Delicacy is suspended amply in the air, hanging daintily on the thread of life and death. Delicacy is the soft and inconsistent beeping from the cardiac monitor. It controls your thoughts; yet is only a shadow on your radar. It shares the rhythm of the pounding in your head, and the thumping in your chest. You strain to shut everything out, leaving only the shy quiver of breathe slithering out from their lax lips. Their lips tremor under the reign of some foreign enemy, and their eyes flutter from an unseen truth. It is the suffering you wish to unburden them from, the pain you would inflict upon yourself in return for both their lives intact. Delicacy is a light fragrance, a mixture of disinfectant and sweat. Is it the scent of creating a life, or the imminent end of it? Beads of perspiration stream down your face and sting your eyes. The sweet caress of silk treads faintly underneath your fingertips. You rub the back of her hand, clammy and fragile. Rubbing the skin, you forget who the comfort is more for while footsteps pierce the stillness in the air. A figure dawned in white appears before you. Their form blurs in and out of focus, their voice a toneless muddle seeping through your cloud of stupor. Delicacy is a whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We can only save one of them." It is the realization that too much pressure, and two months premature, is a cocktail dyed with poison. She looks to you with eyes of understanding and acceptance. Delicacy is the collapsing of all you know. It is the berating of incoherent words tumbling from your lips for the pure sake of escaping. You're swiftly taken from the room, kicking and screaming to the hallway. The unsettling tick of the clock mocks your every fiber. You **** the void of silence with the tapping of your foot, taming yourself from barging your way into the room. With the screaming from the bed, the instinct of protection, the stiffening of your back, the nurse quickly ushers you back in. The soft and consistent rising of the baby's chest is surrounded with the light fragrance of life. The plush fibers of the yellow blanket tug on the skin of your fingertips. The fascination apparent in your eyes, look to her while wondering how this little body will have the biggest impact on your life. Delicacy is the soft whisper flashing goosebumps across your skin, "We made it."
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8
‘Puts Me to Work’ echoes through the house, Cate Le Bon’s voice bouncing off the walls. I can almost see it, storming down the hallway, Barging out of the bathroom. This floor is ******* freezing. I can see my reflection in the shiny wood; A circle of condensation that grows and shrinks As I breathe in and out. ‘But I know that you’re there, ‘cause you’re making it hurt.’ Entire galaxies are swirling in the shaft of setting sunlight Streaming through the broken blinds At right angles, sharp and sudden. Solar systems shift and spiral, Exploding every Time I take a breath. A lake is forming by my chin. I wonder if it is clear and wet Like swimming, Or white with froth and paste Like winter. I stop wondering when the shivering becomes me. ‘It puts me to work . . . puts me to work. It puts me to work . . . it puts me to work.’ The song has been repeating for an hour now. I used to really like the end. Something like forty-five-minutes-ago. I wonder if the battery will die soon. I wonder not if I will die soon. Preoccupied with galaxies and spirals and the little spot of condensation Forming and unforming as I breathe. With the frozen lake I feel cold enough to be skating across In these baggy shorts and this tattered t-shirt From a Nirvana show last century. The battery doesn’t die, and Cate Le Bon comes racing around the house again. I close my eyes and sigh.
0
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 3:32 PM UTC
right angles, sharp and sudden.
My dear, it was a moment to clutch for a moment so that you may believe in it and believing is the act of love, I think, even in the telling, wherever it went. In the false New England forest where the misplanted Norwegian trees refused to root, their thick synthetic roots barging out of the dirt to work on the air, we held hands and walked on our knees. Actually, there was no one there. For fourty years this experimental woodland grew, shaft by shaft in perfect rows where its stub branches held and its spokes fell. It was a place of parallel trees, their lives filed out in exile where we walked too alien to know our sameness and how our sameness survives. Outside of us the village cars followed the white line we had carefully walked two nights before toward our single beds. We lay halfway up an ugly hill and if we fell it was here in the woods where the woods were caught in their dying and you held me well. And now I must dream the forest whole and your sweet hands, not once as frozen as those stopped trees, nor ruled, nor pale, nor leaving mine. Today in my house, I see our house, its pillars a dim basement of men holding up their foreign ground for you and me. My dear, it was a time, butchered from time that we must tell of quickly before we lose the sound of our own mouths calling mine, mine, mine.
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1.6k
The Expatriates
O how I loathe him, hideous man-child Bounding down the steep stairs of our house Barging through that shambles of a door, and leaving it open, the brute Clattering about the kitchen, cramped and yellow Rustling sweet wrappers as he raids the cupboards O fat disfigured son of mine I pray you leave this house for I love you no more The odour of a dying rat, the face of stoicism and sadness Leave, O leave disgusting boy, I love thee no longer My patience is tried, your mannerisms crude and vile Leave this domicile at once, for it is no longer a home
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Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
Musings on Mothers; Matrons of Unspoken Truths
Isn't it funny How they call you big? When your limbs were shaking And your belly's shrunk All bones from muzzle to tail. Perhaps the cheerful girl Wasn't so little for a kid Under that red hood. Don't you get mad When people call you bad? All you ever did was do The sickly grandma a favor. The girl could've done worse Disobeying the elder's order And nibbling on half the food While prancing in the woods. Don't you get sad When people call you wolf? Though you looked more like A stray dog barging at the hut's door And a bear after swallowing the two whole Pretty much misunderstood By the village and the world Full of big, bad, wolves.
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Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Big Bad Wolf
1. *Her bleary red eyes tired from carrying heavy load on her head- all day long, while harsh sun was beating down, still looks  beautiful like a doe's, in the soft light of dusk; with wonder they peer, at the glinting necklace, extending down the night's blue black ******* Are they white diamonds or moon drops, falling from the clear part of the sky just now freed from the hold of clouds? Like an eagle, sudden lightening swoops down, exposing  trees hiding  in darkness, reminding ogres, that come chasing her in nightmares. But the flash embellishes the cloud, the shy moon takes cover; the cloud in that moment, transforms to a sheer silvery dress- for the moon to wear proudly,  at any temple fair. 2. The celestial dance  of light and darkness is stunning; makes her wonder aloud: "Such beauty! I only need this to forget my pains" with sweet power, it hits her, bringing to her mind, the waves of pleasure erupted from her ***** that she felt once, just once,  with her man. She couldn't understand,  how it happened, life still hides some secrets. It was like a randy male goat, barging in to her home compound, opening the closed gate swiftly, hitting softly with its head, for a brief moment, she didn't know what happened, and how the waves of pleasure, swept her off her feet, she floated, like a cloud, in her sun scorched life, that never  happened again. 3. Existing  as a cacophony as long as it is awake, the village, is still, went to sleep, except moon and a  few like her, the chattering of women in the market had died down dogs do not bark, the drunks aren't cursing dogs or clashing with others who come their way. Late at this hour, a lone  night owl stirs, his urgent hoots, resound making him more egregious. She would go to sleep, if the owl stops, then, to his snores she would turn a deaf ear as usual, and let him slither like a snake, in his part of the  bed till morning breaks, When-- it's again time for her to trek to the well too far, to fetch water, before the women of next village, come flocking with pots and pails.*
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Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
As the village sleeps, she sits listening to herself
1. *Her bleary red eyes tired from carrying heavy load on her head- all day long, while harsh sun was beating down, still looks  beautiful like a doe's, in the soft light of dusk; with wonder they peer, at the glinting necklace, extending down the night's blue black ******* Are they white diamonds or moon drops, falling from the clear part of the sky just now freed from the hold of clouds? Like an eagle, sudden lightening swoops down, exposing  trees hiding  in darkness, reminding ogres, that come chasing her in nightmares. But the flash embellishes the cloud, the shy moon takes cover; the cloud in that moment, transforms to a sheer silvery dress- for the moon to wear proudly,  at any temple fair. 2. The celestial dance  of light and darkness is stunning; makes her wonder aloud: "Such beauty! I only need this to forget my pains" with sweet power, it hits her, bringing to her mind, the waves of pleasure erupted from her ***** that she felt once, just once,  with her man. She couldn't understand,  how it happened, life still hides some secrets. It was like a randy male goat, barging in to her home compound, opening the closed gate swiftly, hitting softly with its head, for a brief moment, she didn't know what happened, and how the waves of pleasure, swept her off her feet, she floated, like a cloud, in her sun scorched life, that never  happened again. 3. Existing  as a cacophony as long as it is awake, the village, is still, went to sleep, except moon and a  few like her, the chattering of women in the market had died down dogs do not bark, the drunks aren't cursing dogs or clashing with others who come their way. Late at this hour, a lone  night owl stirs, his urgent hoots, resound making him more egregious. She would go to sleep, if the owl stops, then, to his snores she would turn a deaf ear as usual, and let him slither like a snake, in his part of the  bed till morning breaks, When-- it's again time for her to trek to the well too far, to fetch water, before the women of next village, come flocking with pots and pails.*
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45
Heavy hearted hands lifting my body up Almost filled up And soon ill be snatched up Self made Enraged In a cage of shame Chained To my Godless contemplation of the oneness Smothering the somethings, I worked so hard for But i adore the test Ignore the rest Blessings from the depth Of my love for all of you I dare to dream of things my eyes are too small to see In futility to the world I breath deeply Unfurled Upon the twisted shapes Refracting light Shifting states Heightening my holographic hemispheres Likening the charge of the heliosphere To the happiness barging into the universe In verse-less surges of sanctity Solidifying the sanity With purges of popularity From the light-less Polarity Spinning the tops Of sincerity Declaring its love for me
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Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 8:38 AM UTC
Simulation
I warned him I was poison, That my womb spouted lava, That there was fire between my legs And it spared no visitor, Yet he laughed, the fool, And the proud, vain loon, Did not pause a moment before Barging in unwanted, Like he had, into ninety-nine other forbidden heavens, Eager to add a tale more of dominance, To the ninety-nine others He would proudly tell, Only to emerge- consumed, scorched, devoured by my fumes. Hadn't I told him I was hell?
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Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
Acid Love - II
death came to visit today and now he sits, smoking a cigarette, in a chair on the other side of the room he did not say why, simply barging into the room saying hey hey man how ya doing care for a smoke? he didn’t say much after that so I went on with things read a magazine, paid some bills, made a sandwich and ate it still he sat, just smoking and smoking, occasionally asking me: you sure you don’t want one man? I was sure and after the fourth or fifth time he asked me if I wanted to go somewhere “a little noise will do us good man” “this place is quiet as death” I realized slowly he didn’t mean for us to return if we left as I write this he’s still over smoking and smoking and smoking I weigh my options as the sun sets once again
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Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
no good intentions
thank the humid place between my legs for being the only ***** of mine not to take it personally perhaps because we are so safe and secure you would have to unfold me, trim the weeds around                                         this secret, secret house   somewhat abandoned and no longer the host of such hopscotch games because once your round thumbprint made me so sore I do not forget the care you took to separate petals like eyelashes caught on a dangerous rim but now it is for defense, such a mechanism something to prevent intruders, beggars, from barging in                                   these lips, an alarm system oh, I do hate to make you leave but my ****** is the only ***** I have that does not take everything personally
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
undercroft
The Toves came by again last night To rant and rave at me But what they asked they had no right As any fool could see To rant and rave at me Its pointless as I could not say As any fool could see And if I could I wouldn't anyway Its pointless as I could not say I do not talk with Toves And if I could I wouldn't anyway As everybody knows I do not talk with Toves They always treat me with contempt As everybody knows They just came barging in my tent Demanding that I tell them things But what they asked they had no right Lording around as if they're kings The Toves came by again last night
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Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 11:04 PM UTC
Pantoumic Toves
Riveting reflections of rapture resting on my face intenseness completely captured in the warmth of your embrace. Wave upon wave in crescendo pounding against the shore invading the very window barging through soul's open door. Electrical charge so shocking sensations so sharp and clear touching, caressing, interlocking whenever you are near.
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Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 11:00 AM UTC
Riveting Reflections
I'm a steamroller on a highway, Unstoppable, and gripped by craze. 'Get out of my way! I'm coming through!' My vision's blurred, I'm trapped in a haze. I swerve to the left, then swerve to the right. Through the windshield, I see the moonlight; Bright and shining; shining, bright, Everything is coherent in that bright light. The bang shocks the ride, and the glass shatters; It's that rare moment of clarity... *The weeping bark is my destiny, And I swerve again to meet the tree.* I've broken through my shell, And I stand exposed. So this is how the levee breaks... I can hear the river barging as it explodes. My crystal barricade has been breached. There's no escape, there's no defense. The night's conspiracy is in fruitition. And I rest my case, cease pretense. The moonlight was a gentle kiss, On this night, it wasn't alone... You were the target I was destined to miss; I'd lost the mortgage for my time loan. -- My number was up, I was your slave Funny how that worked out On saving you, My core reactor burned out. The little boy in the moonlight Was the reason for my demise. *Were you my personal demon? Or my salvation, my prize?* -- You devoured me, I worshipped you. Then up you got, and there you left. Guess you were my demon then... You abandoned me, bereft.
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
The Little Demon
All nations beat their own drum. The US, China, Britain, Russia, Europe, Israel, India, Turkey, Pakistan, Syria, France, Germany and a whole host of others, have been beating their own drum in deafening cacophony since realisation dawned of their individual sovereign potentiality. Every nation is manouvering for their own best self interest…and in this volatile environment of the Middle east plus the factor of the complete savagery and unpredictability of the rampaging ISIS Calithate….any outcome, anything is now possible. Iran is the meat in the sandwich. She squirms this way and that, buying favour here sacrificing loyalties there, switching, adjusting. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends at the drop of a hat. Writhing within herself attempting to find the path to the future in an incredibly difficult minefield of pressure from the onslaught from the East and the West….A crushing miasma of pressure from friend and foe alike. Who can say which way she will jump? The only sane predictability is that Iran will leap to her own salvation, her own survival….and to Hell with the rest of the barging, braying self-obsessed world. Marshalg 23 July 2015
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Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
The Meat in the Sandwich.
It's the same dark evening I've grown accustomed to. The terror of approaching footsteps (for me) is nothing new. A drunken holler at the door sends a chill down my spine. I know it is time again to face the wrath of cheap wine. With trembling hands and a racing heart I fumble at the door. My body tries its best to resist the abuse it has endured before. Yet, against my wishes the door is now ajar. The man who comes barging in is terrifying even from afar. With no barrier between us and pure rage in his eyes, he does what I expect and erupts into wild cries. "YOU ***** he screams (the man that I'd wed) whilst charging at me, (his humanity-all shed). Blow after blow he plants on my frame. Slaps, kicks and punches have become his favorite game. Each humiliating strike that I wordlessly embrace attacks my dignity until is left no trace. After his outburst (an everyday tale, of late) he staggers off to bed (his newfound best mate) Now I'm alone, beaten and bruised. The pain of mental hurt overpowers the blood oozed. Is this it then? The reward for being nice? My kindness taken for cowardice non-violence paying its price? Is it my FAULT then, to be born a girl? Is it reason enough for all atrocities he hurls? I lift myself up to take a deeper look at me. Features lost in bloodshot red, there is nothing left to see. I drag myself to bed now, It already is very late. I wait for sleep to carry me off to a land of better fate.
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Everyday
i am a man of science— something like that. i was never one to put things up to faith or religion; no, i am a firm believer of all things formulated out of reason; until you came along, with galaxies in your eyes and star dust in your hair; (when i kiss you, i swear i see supernovas) and who do you think you are, anyway? to come barging in to my perfectly explained universe and re-arranging all my theorems, to come waltzing into rooms, acutely unaware of how you send every ***** of mine in to overdrive; dilated pupils, and an increased heartbeat, and a spike in some hormones, and a light going off somewhere in my brain— (diagnosis: love) i despise the effect you have on me, the churn in my stomach to have you smile at me, the thrill to hold your hand, the constant train of thoughts about you that has muddled the part of my head that can explain all this in a more scholar-ly way. but no. all that i knew could not explain what i felt for you; no, you had me denying newton's laws of motion— with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction— (you had me hoping my love would recieve, instead, an equal and similar reaction) no, you were not just a lump of atoms born in to this world for the mere purpose of recreation and, inevitably, death— (to me, you are much more than a scientific construct) no, all the chemicals boiled down in to nothingness and all the formulas were void of their values and all the terms were mere jargons that could not help me fully comprehend why you are warmer than sunshine; why you could take away the oxygen in my lungs faster than anything else; why the planets seem to align in order to keep you here; why gravity does not exist in the spaces you occupy; why distance is my enemy; and why i am in a love-hate relationship with the rotation of our earth (it depends on when i can see you again); it was suddenly not just physics, or astronomy, or biology, or chemistry when you came along.
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
why i threw science out of the window
i am a man of science— something like that. i was never one to put things up to faith or religion; no, i am a firm believer of all things formulated out of reason; until you came along, with galaxies in your eyes and star dust in your hair; (when i kiss you, i swear i see supernovas) and who do you think you are, anyway? to come barging in to my perfectly explained universe and re-arranging all my theorems, to come waltzing into rooms, acutely unaware of how you send every ***** of mine in to overdrive; dilated pupils, and an increased heartbeat, and a spike in some hormones, and a light going off somewhere in my brain— (diagnosis: love) i despise the effect you have on me, the churn in my stomach to have you smile at me, the thrill to hold your hand, the constant train of thoughts about you that has muddled the part of my head that can explain all this in a more scholar-ly way. but no. all that i knew could not explain what i felt for you; no, you had me denying newton's laws of motion— with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction— (you had me hoping my love would recieve, instead, an equal and similar reaction) no, you were not just a lump of atoms born in to this world for the mere purpose of recreation and, inevitably, death— (to me, you are much more than a scientific construct) no, all the chemicals boiled down in to nothingness and all the formulas were void of their values and all the terms were mere jargons that could not help me fully comprehend why you are warmer than sunshine; why you could take away the oxygen in my lungs faster than anything else; why the planets seem to align in order to keep you here; why gravity does not exist in the spaces you occupy; why distance is my enemy; and why i am in a love-hate relationship with the rotation of our earth (it depends on when i can see you again); it was suddenly not just physics, or astronomy, or biology, or chemistry when you came along.
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23
she barged so uninvited in my space, so futile were my palms and outstretched arms, forbidding her from entering my place, mistrusting her that she may bring me harm, rebuttals--counterpunches to my claims that she was just another soulless ghost-- had penetrated fences, and her aims to win my heart succeeded more than most, but here we are almost a year from then, i've pushed her off, she shares her heart with one not me, but one who seems above all men, and i have lost where once i thought i'd won, now i'm the one who's barging in her space, my own rebuttals falling in disgrace (C)2012, Christos Rigakos
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Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 12:35 PM UTC
she barged so uninvited in my space
Ahem, Uh excuse me- just what do you think your doing? barging in on my life, causing a ruckus after so long now it's was fun while it lasted but your my past & I know you know better then to try and relive what can never be again... You love who um hell naw not me, see I once was blind but baby I see clear through your fake persona to the little devil who'll use what ever he can to try and become my man, you had ya chance and you ******* blew it, don't keep emailing or texting me I want nothing to do with you and how sad cuz when I wanted you It was you playing hard to get not so much to get just so **** hard to hold on to, I left that part of my life, left the bitterness and pain too, your words never hurt as much as your actions- caused me to wanna die, **** you too but what then of the seed you planted in me, now as months,months and months go by I laugh at my stupidity for thinking everything you said you meant.... Please save it for someone who gives a flying **** I guess you can say through it all and after all this time my feeling & self have changed feeling regret and hate for the careless way you tossed me away tossed my words back at me and choose to play games on me begging me to let you back in You had me thinking we could of been more then just friends and more then anything we could of been a family.... funny sadly so cuz I no longer have those feelings I just pity the useless way you drag on begging and running after memories something that COULD NEVER BE NOW Not again not after all the **** you did not after all the pain you caused and never after all the loss I went through. Sorry didn't do so save it for her she finally got what she wanted and I'm happy for her cuz least it aint me any longer & I no longer worry hurt or even miss you. Stop bothering me Stop lying to your self Strop trying to make me feel something that wont ever be there again. Save "Sorry" for the weak minds who'll listen to your ******** Sorry again huh OK your right your a SORRY SON OF A ***** SO KEEP SORRY TO YA'SELF & GET THE **** ON outta here LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! haa haa haa HAAAAAAAA Remember We said No Regrets Always Me Ayeshah
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Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
No Regrets
Ahem, Uh excuse me- just what do you think your doing? barging in on my life, causing a ruckus after so long now it's was fun while it lasted but your my past & I know you know better then to try and relive what can never be again... You love who um hell naw not me, see I once was blind but baby I see clear through your fake persona to the little devil who'll use what ever he can to try and become my man, you had ya chance and you ******* blew it, don't keep emailing or texting me I want nothing to do with you and how sad cuz when I wanted you It was you playing hard to get not so much to get just so **** hard to hold on to, I left that part of my life, left the bitterness and pain too, your words never hurt as much as your actions- caused me to wanna die, **** you too but what then of the seed you planted in me, now as months,months and months go by I laugh at my stupidity for thinking everything you said you meant.... Please save it for someone who gives a flying **** I guess you can say through it all and after all this time my feeling & self have changed feeling regret and hate for the careless way you tossed me away tossed my words back at me and choose to play games on me begging me to let you back in You had me thinking we could of been more then just friends and more then anything we could of been a family.... funny sadly so cuz I no longer have those feelings I just pity the useless way you drag on begging and running after memories something that COULD NEVER BE NOW Not again not after all the **** you did not after all the pain you caused and never after all the loss I went through. Sorry didn't do so save it for her she finally got what she wanted and I'm happy for her cuz least it aint me any longer & I no longer worry hurt or even miss you. Stop bothering me Stop lying to your self Strop trying to make me feel something that wont ever be there again. Save "Sorry" for the weak minds who'll listen to your ******** Sorry again huh OK your right your a SORRY SON OF A ***** SO KEEP SORRY TO YA'SELF & GET THE **** ON outta here LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! haa haa haa HAAAAAAAA Remember We said No Regrets Always Me Ayeshah
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Click. Arms around with a profound smile Pearl teeth reflecting happytimes Click Blanketed now,anchored to my bed Alone and this time no shine Clear like blue cotton sky your eyes Perfect like truth your smile Temptation of your sugarcoated words Marshmallow soft full your lips How could have I simply be in a corner? And resist myself to not touch What I loved , you. Like the new morning glory Your candle lit up face brightened me The whispered words buttered me Like the softness of peach Your fluttering touch melted me Like a burning wax Barging through the air Whipped the breath out of me Call me I wished you could save me Your hair brought the shade of sweetness How could I have simply be in a corner? And resist myself not to do the only thing I do? Love you. Though you are cold in earth And sky cries with screams and tears Its me who feels sick Graved alive.
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
Switched.