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"behaves" poems
What to do with a mind you can not control A mind that thinks of things you wished it didn't behaves a way that isn't you Split or multiple but their is certainly more than one personality residing in this mind Scares me with the images, with the dreams I'm losing control over something that belongs to me I'm losing me   So far no voices but the images I see the way it controls my every move I can not help it but I'm losing control It scares me that I can not keep control of something that is so capable of beauty love compassion friendship peace It scares me that I am losing everything that makes me, me My mind is something I can not control
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Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
Can not control
Mistah Kurtz—he dead. A penny for the Old Guy I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Remember us—if at all—not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men. II Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death’s dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind’s singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer In death’s dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer— Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom III This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man’s hand Under the twinkle of a fading star. Is it like this In death’s other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone. IV The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms In this last of meeting places We ***** together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the tumid river Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death’s twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men. V Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o’clock in the morning. Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow Life is very long Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
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The Hollow Men
Mistah Kurtz—he dead. A penny for the Old Guy I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Remember us—if at all—not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men. II Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death’s dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind’s singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer In death’s dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer— Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom III This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man’s hand Under the twinkle of a fading star. Is it like this In death’s other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone. IV The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms In this last of meeting places We ***** together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the tumid river Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death’s twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men. V Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o’clock in the morning. Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow Life is very long Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
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105
/*h'americans can call it a striptease, but in amsterdam, with legal self-employed prostitutes? we call it a cocktease: because you'd really visit amsterdam for the **** these days?* isabella: the french psychology exchange student -     hung up on her ex-boyfriend - really in anime movies -       and that american i competed with on an edinburgh pub-crawl for freshers - and lost my virginity to -                   probably the only time i had the ontological parameters of your atypical man -   "hunting", competing -    oh so, so, enthralling....     (spot the irony mingling with ridicule, when people "know" how the modern man behaves, with his caveman predecessors: dragging a woman by the hair type of cartoonish depiction) - the other fun time i've had encounters with h'americans was in Soho - two colts, texan tourists asking for directions, or where this or that place was... it almost warmed my heart hearing that twang                        of the tongue... perhaps someone from arizona? that has that - "mid" western twang of the tongue                  added to the bite... snub the Boston high-mind eloquence, like:     you really really want                to sound european... never mind...    people say that water is tasteless... hmm...     so last night i was heating up one arm of scissors...                  and sniffing it... then licked the other arm of the scissor... what's in water again?    minerals... a subtle presence... magnesium, potassium, iron... you name it...    so yeah... water is... "tasteless"... eisenzahn that i am.
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
water is, "tasteless" (eisenzahn)
/*h'americans can call it a striptease, but in amsterdam, with legal self-employed prostitutes? we call it a cocktease: because you'd really visit amsterdam for the **** these days?* isabella: the french psychology exchange student -     hung up on her ex-boyfriend - really in anime movies -       and that american i competed with on an edinburgh pub-crawl for freshers - and lost my virginity to -                   probably the only time i had the ontological parameters of your atypical man -   "hunting", competing -    oh so, so, enthralling....     (spot the irony mingling with ridicule, when people "know" how the modern man behaves, with his caveman predecessors: dragging a woman by the hair type of cartoonish depiction) - the other fun time i've had encounters with h'americans was in Soho - two colts, texan tourists asking for directions, or where this or that place was... it almost warmed my heart hearing that twang                        of the tongue... perhaps someone from arizona? that has that - "mid" western twang of the tongue                  added to the bite... snub the Boston high-mind eloquence, like:     you really really want                to sound european... never mind...    people say that water is tasteless... hmm...     so last night i was heating up one arm of scissors...                  and sniffing it... then licked the other arm of the scissor... what's in water again?    minerals... a subtle presence... magnesium, potassium, iron... you name it...    so yeah... water is... "tasteless"... eisenzahn that i am.
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51
All your life, you've wished for wings While I've learned the notes the ocean sings. To stroke the sky where it hugs the shore, To ask the waves if we've met before. You took your first flight as I was learning to float, You build yourself a catapult, I dug myself a moat. Both our hearts are equally blue, And neither one has learned to hide. Like lovers' eyes, you're lost inside- Intoxicating, infinite, new. We'll gallop together on common ground, Sea horses with eagles true love have found. No wind nowhere, dear, ever behaves, The sky weeps tears and the sea laughs waves. Where sky meets sea at the end of the world, Where they kiss and intertwine to the beat of their song, With the sun as a lone fiery partition, That's where we belong.
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Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
Where Sky Meets Sea
Beating, Drumming, Rolling, Jumping, Spinning, Dancing. That is how my heart behaves When I am so close to you.
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
Close to you
Here I am; waiting, Waiting for an old friend On a deserted Railway Station. She’s late; knew she would be. Time behaves differently in Such public places; very differently. I stood waiting alone, Then a gaggle of women Clattered up the subway. Stilettos and thick, heeled boots, Beating out an echoing tattoo, On the broad, concrete steps. Now we wait together, Myself and a Hen Party. Blending of emotional alloys Fused together, forming Excitement; then I see her And all heads turn to look. Amongst the flower boxes, Silence blossoms on the Platform as my old friend Glides serenely into the station, She’s late; knew she would be Even so, she’s on time for me. Steam unfurls around her, Billowing majestic clouds Crowning this, ‘Queen of The Rails’, last seen when I was a boy, now in manhood Her unsung glory is truly revered. Steel wheels clatter, a rhythmic Tattoo, then she draws to a halt. Old friend from a previous age Escaping through to this century, Thronged by beautiful women, I Smile, and step aboard a true beauty. ©Paul M Chafer 2014
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
Old Friend
We are the genuine men We are the fulfilled men Standing together Headpiece filled with ideas. Huzzah! Our powerful voices, when We cheer together Are loud and meaningful As wind in wet grass Or dancing feet over wooden floors In our damp attics Shape with form, shade with colour, Dynamic force, motion without gesture; Those who have crossed With indirect eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Forget  us—if at all—not as found Peaceful souls, but only As the genuine men The fulfilled men. Eyes I dare meet in nightmares In death’s dream kingdom These do  appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a whole column There, is a tree standing And voices are In the wind’s singing More close and more bashful Than a newly formed star. Let me be closer In death’s dream kingdom Let me not wear Such obvious disguises Silk shirt, snakeskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves Closer— That first meeting In the twilight kingdom This is the living land This is fruitful land Here the cloudy images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a living man’s hand Under the twinkle of a newly formed star. It is like this In death’s other kingdom Waking together At the minute when we are Shaking with excitement Lips that would kiss Form praise to no stone. The eyes are here There are eyes here In this valley of living stars In this flowing valley This whole jaw of our lost kingdoms In this first of meeting places We ***** alone And invite speech Gathered on this beach of the free river Vision, unless The eyes disappear As the periodic star Monofoliate daisy Of death’s twilight kingdom The hope only Of whole men. *Here we go round the mulberry bush Mulberry bush mulberry bush Here we go round the mulberry bush At five o’clock in the morning.* Between the thought And the implementation Between the movement And the deed Rises the Light                                 For Thine is the Kingdom Between the inception And the construction Between the feeling And the reaction Rises the Light                                 Life is very short Between the need And the want Between the potential And the substance Between the ingredients And the ascent Rises the Light                                 For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the world begins This is the way the world begins This is the way the world begins Not with a whimper but a bang.
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Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
The Genuine Men
We are the genuine men We are the fulfilled men Standing together Headpiece filled with ideas. Huzzah! Our powerful voices, when We cheer together Are loud and meaningful As wind in wet grass Or dancing feet over wooden floors In our damp attics Shape with form, shade with colour, Dynamic force, motion without gesture; Those who have crossed With indirect eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Forget  us—if at all—not as found Peaceful souls, but only As the genuine men The fulfilled men. Eyes I dare meet in nightmares In death’s dream kingdom These do  appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a whole column There, is a tree standing And voices are In the wind’s singing More close and more bashful Than a newly formed star. Let me be closer In death’s dream kingdom Let me not wear Such obvious disguises Silk shirt, snakeskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves Closer— That first meeting In the twilight kingdom This is the living land This is fruitful land Here the cloudy images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a living man’s hand Under the twinkle of a newly formed star. It is like this In death’s other kingdom Waking together At the minute when we are Shaking with excitement Lips that would kiss Form praise to no stone. The eyes are here There are eyes here In this valley of living stars In this flowing valley This whole jaw of our lost kingdoms In this first of meeting places We ***** alone And invite speech Gathered on this beach of the free river Vision, unless The eyes disappear As the periodic star Monofoliate daisy Of death’s twilight kingdom The hope only Of whole men. *Here we go round the mulberry bush Mulberry bush mulberry bush Here we go round the mulberry bush At five o’clock in the morning.* Between the thought And the implementation Between the movement And the deed Rises the Light                                 For Thine is the Kingdom Between the inception And the construction Between the feeling And the reaction Rises the Light                                 Life is very short Between the need And the want Between the potential And the substance Between the ingredients And the ascent Rises the Light                                 For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the world begins This is the way the world begins This is the way the world begins Not with a whimper but a bang.
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I want to tell you about time, how strangely it behaves when you haven't got much of it left: after 60 say, or 70, when you'd think it would find itself squeezed so hard that like melting ice it would surely begin to shrink, each day looking smaller and smaller - well, it's not so. The rules change, a single hour can grow huge and quiet, full of reflections like an old river, its slow-turning eddies and whirls showing you every face of your life in a fluid design - your children for instance, how you see them deepened and changed, not merely by age, but by time itself, its wide and luminous eye; and you realise at last that your every gift to them - love, your very life, should they need it - will not and cannot come back; it wasn't a gift at all but a borrowing, a baton for them to pass on in their turn. Look, there they are in this shimmering distance, rushing through their kind of time, moving faster than you yet not catching up. You're alone. And slowly you begin to discern the queer outline of what's to come: the bend in the river beyond which, moving steadily, head up (you hope), you will simply vanish from sight.
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In Position
My dad thinks my name means “Little princess” My mom thinks my name means “Behaves like a cat” and “Hard to love” My brother thinks my name means “That annoying sound maker” My favorite teacher  thinks my name means    “Nurturing         Imaginative          Noteworthy Astute” My best guy friend thinks my name means “Good at poetry and knows how to laugh” My person thinks my name means “Going to help many people one day” But I think they left out some things like “Tries way too hard to impress” “Has many bottled up emotions in stock “ “Dreams of skyscrapers and glass windows” “A binge watcher of many, MANY shows” “Dreams of the perfect family in the suburbs” ”Dreams of love, from someone, anyone” “Has a walk in closet full of masks” And that’s what my name means
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Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 1:46 PM UTC
What My Name Means
The cycle of time never stops, That has never forgiven anyone, Moves fast, slow and sometimes hops, None can claim from it to be won, The kings or beggar it behaves the same, Justice, its essence and time its name. O, the king lying with the queen, Thou's given a figure to the love, The lovers and beloveds are keen, To visit the Taj as pilgrim of love. Thousands of the people visit at a time, To pay tribute a to building of ever prime, Ah! The mosque is empty but I hear, Silent prayer calls in surrounding of thine, People are surrounding thee far and near, They look happy but sad is the heart of mine, O Yamuna! Beside thee one is seeing another age, But time is the obstacle to show its visage.
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Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 4:56 AM UTC
A VISIT TO THE TAJ
So rough the goat will scratch, it cannot sleep. So often goes the *** to the well that it breaks. So long you heat iron, it will glow; so heavily you hammer it, it shatters. So good is the man as his praise; so far he will go, and he's forgotten; so bad he behaves, and he's despised. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. So glib you talk, you end up in contradictions. So good is your credit as the favors you got. So much you promise that you will back out. So doggedly you beg that your wish is granted; so high climbs the price when you want a thing; so much you want it that you pay the price; so familiar it gets to you, you want it no more. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. So, you love a dog. Then feed it! So long a song will run that people learn it. So long you keep the fruit, it will rot. So hot the struggle for a spot that it is won; so cool you keep your act that your spirit freezes; so hurriedly you act that you run into bad luck; so tight you embrace that your catch slips away. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. So you scoff and laugh, and the fun is gone. So you crave and spend, and lose your shirt. So candid you are, no blow can be too low. So good as a gift should a promise be. So, if you love God, you obey the Church. So, when you give much, you borrow much. So, shifting winds turn to storm. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. Prince, so long as a fool persists, he grows wiser; so, round the world he goes, but return he will, so humbled and beaten back into servility. So loud you cry Christmas, it is here.
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The Ballad Of The Proverbs
So rough the goat will scratch, it cannot sleep. So often goes the *** to the well that it breaks. So long you heat iron, it will glow; so heavily you hammer it, it shatters. So good is the man as his praise; so far he will go, and he's forgotten; so bad he behaves, and he's despised. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. So glib you talk, you end up in contradictions. So good is your credit as the favors you got. So much you promise that you will back out. So doggedly you beg that your wish is granted; so high climbs the price when you want a thing; so much you want it that you pay the price; so familiar it gets to you, you want it no more. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. So, you love a dog. Then feed it! So long a song will run that people learn it. So long you keep the fruit, it will rot. So hot the struggle for a spot that it is won; so cool you keep your act that your spirit freezes; so hurriedly you act that you run into bad luck; so tight you embrace that your catch slips away. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. So you scoff and laugh, and the fun is gone. So you crave and spend, and lose your shirt. So candid you are, no blow can be too low. So good as a gift should a promise be. So, if you love God, you obey the Church. So, when you give much, you borrow much. So, shifting winds turn to storm. So loud you cry Christmas, it comes. Prince, so long as a fool persists, he grows wiser; so, round the world he goes, but return he will, so humbled and beaten back into servility. So loud you cry Christmas, it is here.
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36
You forgive everyone for not knowing, or understanding, or even caring, because you know this is the way humans are. This is the way, at times, even the one you should hold most dear, the one who goes by your name and lives in your skin, behaves.
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
You Forgive
You have the beauty That enflames the heart And enchants the soul Within, don't hide it Society's standards Are ridiculous The media's portrayal Of what beauty is biased We spend out of our means To wear such and such labels Wear pounds of make-up, Starve ourselves, Because who we look in The mirror is not what We see on tv? What is beauty? Is it the texture of my hair? Is it the hue of my skin? Is it my ethnicity? Is it my weight? What is beauty? Black is beautiful White is beautiful Hispanic is beautiful Asian is beautiful Bi/multi racial is beautiful You're beautiful We're beautiful We don't need society's Validation No, we don't need to Be deemed perfect by society In actual fact, it's standards Are unatainable So why do we strive for Something we know is Only an illusion? Do we realize the impact That media has in shaping The way the millennium Generation Thinks, and behaves? We demand change, But we're the same people Tuning in to the same Shows that we protest about We've become so engulfed In the world of entertainment That the word has lost Meaning itself Heck, I'm 18 I'm guilty of this too Entertainment is no longer Just that- it's crotch grabbing, Glorified drug, alcohol abuse And yet, we wonder why Majority of My generation has no substance, No depth, and no layers We no longer aspire to be The Obamas, the Ghandis, The Mandelas and so on No! That has long passed The 'American Dream' has Become Kim Kardashian And Kanye West In all honesty, We are our surroundings You want change? Let's stop watching reality tv Maybe then these networks Will stop producing more trash Let's instill morals In our children And help them discover The fire that burns inside Them, the beauty within
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Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Millenium Generation
You have the beauty That enflames the heart And enchants the soul Within, don't hide it Society's standards Are ridiculous The media's portrayal Of what beauty is biased We spend out of our means To wear such and such labels Wear pounds of make-up, Starve ourselves, Because who we look in The mirror is not what We see on tv? What is beauty? Is it the texture of my hair? Is it the hue of my skin? Is it my ethnicity? Is it my weight? What is beauty? Black is beautiful White is beautiful Hispanic is beautiful Asian is beautiful Bi/multi racial is beautiful You're beautiful We're beautiful We don't need society's Validation No, we don't need to Be deemed perfect by society In actual fact, it's standards Are unatainable So why do we strive for Something we know is Only an illusion? Do we realize the impact That media has in shaping The way the millennium Generation Thinks, and behaves? We demand change, But we're the same people Tuning in to the same Shows that we protest about We've become so engulfed In the world of entertainment That the word has lost Meaning itself Heck, I'm 18 I'm guilty of this too Entertainment is no longer Just that- it's crotch grabbing, Glorified drug, alcohol abuse And yet, we wonder why Majority of My generation has no substance, No depth, and no layers We no longer aspire to be The Obamas, the Ghandis, The Mandelas and so on No! That has long passed The 'American Dream' has Become Kim Kardashian And Kanye West In all honesty, We are our surroundings You want change? Let's stop watching reality tv Maybe then these networks Will stop producing more trash Let's instill morals In our children And help them discover The fire that burns inside Them, the beauty within
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77
"How one behaves will determine what one behalves." D. Clare
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 3:40 AM UTC
Behaviour quote
We are all apart of one system yet there are many components to this system innumerable actually all following the same laws as if contractually bound by one set of rules but with infinite variation like nations of expression separated by vibration only contained by the systems within that perceive and react to the system they sustain one giant metaphor a sufficient example is the human body a complex interaction of individual organisms all communicating, interacting and participating in sustaining the body an organism of organisms Even our organs have organs, working together to sustain a system larger than itself cells communicating, producing regulating, exchanging are themselves composed of organisms, performing all these functions we must not forget the system which we sustain the order we provide for the larger body and mind together we compose the cells of this planet interacting and communicating with each other and all other life a subtle dance that carries impressive consequences except the way in which we act as organisms is likened to cancer in which a once productive cell behaves individually not in accordance with the system it sustains replicating uncontrollably wasting unnecessarily not taking the whole into consideration although if the planetary cancer of humanity replicates itself to extinction all will still be well as it always has been and always will be yet the system in which we exist would lose the chance to witness and experience the transformation from cancer to great negative immunity through the powers of the newly recognized human organism a system sustained
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
A System Sustained
We are all apart of one system yet there are many components to this system innumerable actually all following the same laws as if contractually bound by one set of rules but with infinite variation like nations of expression separated by vibration only contained by the systems within that perceive and react to the system they sustain one giant metaphor a sufficient example is the human body a complex interaction of individual organisms all communicating, interacting and participating in sustaining the body an organism of organisms Even our organs have organs, working together to sustain a system larger than itself cells communicating, producing regulating, exchanging are themselves composed of organisms, performing all these functions we must not forget the system which we sustain the order we provide for the larger body and mind together we compose the cells of this planet interacting and communicating with each other and all other life a subtle dance that carries impressive consequences except the way in which we act as organisms is likened to cancer in which a once productive cell behaves individually not in accordance with the system it sustains replicating uncontrollably wasting unnecessarily not taking the whole into consideration although if the planetary cancer of humanity replicates itself to extinction all will still be well as it always has been and always will be yet the system in which we exist would lose the chance to witness and experience the transformation from cancer to great negative immunity through the powers of the newly recognized human organism a system sustained
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75
Sometimes you see her admiring herself In the mirror that's hanging next to the shelf. And when she does it, oh, how she shines! Is that, dear cat, how you practice your lines? She seems not to care if we pay attention, But maybe right here I ought to make mention That being an actress, she's disinclined To always reveal what's going on in her mind. And she'll never, never tell you her age-- Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. She says, "You know…I'm not one to cuss, But when I am hungry, I WILL make a fuss." Yes, she can certainly put on a scene And act as though she's an importunate queen. She says, "My dears, if I'm weak or mild, I'll never drive the audience wild." That critical scene is repeated each night-- A regular tour de force all right. Yes, it's best to try to assuage Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. Her eyes were surely her greatest feature; She THUS scoured the town for a drama teacher, "Who," she says dolefully, "told me one night he Could make me a star. ME: Aphrodite!" But as it turned out, ol' Mr. Mittens Made her instead a mom of eight kittens. "But," she says, "THAT'S between you and me. You know how I like my privacy." It's good to always be on the same page With Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. One thing you learn is for her it's the norm To act a bit slighted when asked to perform. She must be totally in the mood Or else she behaves in a manner subdued. And heaven help you if you are neglectful Of if her audience is disrespectful. She'll exit the room like a "cat" out of hell, And you may not see her for quite a long spell. You never want to see her rage-- Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. She sighs and says, "It's such a shame that Few playwrights write good roles for a cat. My friends say--when they see me upset-- 'Commercials might be a better bet.' My talents, however, as you might have guessed, Best fit the stage. But now I must rest." With that she lifted her nose in the air And strutted out of the room with great flair. It's always nice: advice from a sage Like Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. -by Bob B (1-24-20)
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Jan 25, 2020
Jan 25, 2020 at 8:44 AM UTC
Aphrodite, the Cat of the Stage
Sometimes you see her admiring herself In the mirror that's hanging next to the shelf. And when she does it, oh, how she shines! Is that, dear cat, how you practice your lines? She seems not to care if we pay attention, But maybe right here I ought to make mention That being an actress, she's disinclined To always reveal what's going on in her mind. And she'll never, never tell you her age-- Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. She says, "You know…I'm not one to cuss, But when I am hungry, I WILL make a fuss." Yes, she can certainly put on a scene And act as though she's an importunate queen. She says, "My dears, if I'm weak or mild, I'll never drive the audience wild." That critical scene is repeated each night-- A regular tour de force all right. Yes, it's best to try to assuage Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. Her eyes were surely her greatest feature; She THUS scoured the town for a drama teacher, "Who," she says dolefully, "told me one night he Could make me a star. ME: Aphrodite!" But as it turned out, ol' Mr. Mittens Made her instead a mom of eight kittens. "But," she says, "THAT'S between you and me. You know how I like my privacy." It's good to always be on the same page With Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. One thing you learn is for her it's the norm To act a bit slighted when asked to perform. She must be totally in the mood Or else she behaves in a manner subdued. And heaven help you if you are neglectful Of if her audience is disrespectful. She'll exit the room like a "cat" out of hell, And you may not see her for quite a long spell. You never want to see her rage-- Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. She sighs and says, "It's such a shame that Few playwrights write good roles for a cat. My friends say--when they see me upset-- 'Commercials might be a better bet.' My talents, however, as you might have guessed, Best fit the stage. But now I must rest." With that she lifted her nose in the air And strutted out of the room with great flair. It's always nice: advice from a sage Like Aphrodite, the cat of the stage. -by Bob B (1-24-20)
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51
We fight and we fight and we fight For what our communal conscious believes is right We scratch and we scratch and we scratch At the surface of our supposed human needs We wave and we wave and we wave These banners that state a truthful name How hard we work to prove that we are human How hard we try to not to be dissproven The grave does not care who you are The scythe strikes fast strikes clean but strikes fair It doth not judge for we beings think far too much At night when the prowling pride stalks its prey Where the stars shine heavy on the hides of the unlucky Does the lion question whether to eat the man or the woman? The gay or the straight? The gimp or the man stumbling due to too many sips? The lion only wants his meat His catch Much like our friend the grave We fight and we fight and we shout and we shout And we wave and we wave because we think that is how freedom behaves How lost we are, we children of mother earth How stunned we become at our own plain insignificance That a drifting leaf in a Fall breeze has even more elegance Twisting spitting crying masses of flesh and bone Drones upon drones stand upon stones upon stones An eternal cycle of nature's evolution A plan that is known and unknown Seen and said but not ever shared We fight and we fight and we fight and we fight We say the cause is the hand of an almighty God That the cause of liberation comes from the impulse of our sanitation The wolf howls to be free and is But we We human beings We just Fight and we fight and we fight
0
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 11:09 PM UTC
We Fight and We Fight
We fight and we fight and we fight For what our communal conscious believes is right We scratch and we scratch and we scratch At the surface of our supposed human needs We wave and we wave and we wave These banners that state a truthful name How hard we work to prove that we are human How hard we try to not to be dissproven The grave does not care who you are The scythe strikes fast strikes clean but strikes fair It doth not judge for we beings think far too much At night when the prowling pride stalks its prey Where the stars shine heavy on the hides of the unlucky Does the lion question whether to eat the man or the woman? The gay or the straight? The gimp or the man stumbling due to too many sips? The lion only wants his meat His catch Much like our friend the grave We fight and we fight and we shout and we shout And we wave and we wave because we think that is how freedom behaves How lost we are, we children of mother earth How stunned we become at our own plain insignificance That a drifting leaf in a Fall breeze has even more elegance Twisting spitting crying masses of flesh and bone Drones upon drones stand upon stones upon stones An eternal cycle of nature's evolution A plan that is known and unknown Seen and said but not ever shared We fight and we fight and we fight and we fight We say the cause is the hand of an almighty God That the cause of liberation comes from the impulse of our sanitation The wolf howls to be free and is But we We human beings We just Fight and we fight and we fight
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37
that light hair color the crusade necklace and the way he behaves like a brat whenever I make a sad face I like them all, all of him especially how he cling on to me leaning his head to mine like a cat he got me thinking, I might have fallen for him I fall in love with an idiot
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Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
With An Idiot
It is my legs My shopping bag my companion My float, The two oars My extended arms Parting the water In my little rowing boat. We get there eventually There are complaints on the way But we ignore those and soldier on Loweing the drawbridge in the moat. Tricky I grant you, in your best frock No man to help, just me, and my pal. Keep calm, our motto, or we do rock. Frothy waters jet up our way Every now and then It is like the rivers lets rip Pulls out its cork to say "when" Turbulance, oh yes, it is a scary time The boat behaves like it's on the Irish Sea Stiff talkings to and patience then it is fine. We sail to the bank oh its a stone throw away We disembark like a liner on the ocean I tie it up to the nearest tree Walk off through the wood in time for tea. Piling the two carrier bags on board It is chocs away into the moat Back to the castle we go, my home, To rest, me and my little rowing boat.
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
Me And My Little Rowing Boat
There's something strange going round down on the farm With the animal noises and speeding of cars If you listen it's a bit different, see can you hear it But Farmer Jones doesn't see any harm The pigs are out cleaning up after themselves As the cows cock-a-doodle-do The chickens aren't afraid of anything else And the horses greet you with a how do you do moo The string beans if you please are fit to be tied And the potatoes no longer see eye to eye The broccoli round here is now carrying spears As the tomatoes run for their lives It's Mrs. Jones that really has him worried though She dolls up and dresses fancy at night The way she lately behaves has this farmer quite afraid So he stays days in the field, out of sight, out of mind With the goats that communicate with an oink And the sheep learning to drive the car Yes there's something strange going round down on the farm But Farmer Jones doesn't seem to see any harm
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Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
No Harm Farm
Energy Energy that's something else isn't it? something so beautiful in it's natural form, as it connects  us from a smile to a simple gesture that ends up being meaningful it flows. Energy powerful it alters a mood to the extant that it appears in the ways a certain person behaves. We all connected thru different energy forms, Connected thru different signatures that form friendships, relationships that get fitted in different loves that we end up being on.  As the energy flows our ways change in different times, shared in different places.  As we channel the energy of the situation that we're in,Oooh we let that energy flow which most times its beyond our control. In most cases its chemistry if the energy is good thru the connection those electrical sparkles called vibes will show. We are all connected thru the energy that flows energy. Swoo
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
Energy
I walk my dog a lot, you see twice a day, long walks with me she likes her breaks to stop and *** on every other place that bears a mark could be every thing in any green space, or park, roadside grass, curb sign post; thirty times or more a most. But she is more special than that, she pulls with the heart of a champion at the leash or harness, she as one gear forward fast, her four paws calloused, brace like a storm is in her face, she is game like, that is the norm, her shoulders lean in and her chest opens up she is ten years old and behaves like a 22 pound pup, That is my dog. that is my girl. Most days of the year we have no white stuff on the ground, Truth be told rain by the bucket will be readily found, Spring rains, lead to summer showers, autumn falls both leaves and drops of water, winter moves and the call is the same, what a shame more rain, with out any snow we can't go and purchase a sled so in the end that is, me in tow behind; this man's best friend, my dog. MUSH!
0
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
My Sled Dog
No one sits with him,he doesn't fit in But we feel like we do when we make fun of him Cause you want to belong,do you go along? Cause his pain is the price paid for you to belong It's not like you hate him or want him to die But maybe he goes home and thinks suicide Or he comes back to school with a gun at his side And any kindness from you might have saved his life Heroes are made when you make a choice You could be a hero - heroes do what's right You could be a hero - you might save a life You could be a hero - you could join the fight For what's right.... No one talks to her, she feels so alone She's in too much pain to survive on her own The hurt she can't handle overflows to a knife She writes on her arm wants to give up her life Each day she goes on is a day that she's brave Fighting the lie that giving up is the way Each moment of courage her own life she saves When she throws the pills out a hero is made Heroes are made when you make a choice You could be a hero - heroes do what's right You could be a hero - you might save a life You could be a hero - you could join the fight For what's right.... No one talks to him about how he lives He thinks that the choices he makes are just his Doesn't know he's a leader with the way he behaves And others will follow the choices he's made He lives on the edge, he's old enough to decide His brother who wants to be him is just nine He can do what he wants because it's his right The choices he makes change a nine-year-old's life You could be a hero - heroes do what's right You could be a hero - you might save a life You could be a hero - you could join the fight For what's right... Little mikey d was the one in class Who every day got totally harassed This went on for years until he decided That ever again would he shed another tear So he walked out the door Grabbed a 4.4 out of his father's dresser drawer And said I can't take life no more And like that a life is lost But this ain't even about that All of us just sat back And watched it happen Thinking it's not my responsibility To solve a problem that isn't about me This is our problem This is just one of the daily scenarios In which we chose to cause a riot Instead of doing the right thing If we make a choice Be the voice To those who won't speak up for themselves How many lives would be saved Changed, rearranged Now it's our job To take a shot Now don't keep walking by Now why didn't you try Cause you don't want to exist And never be seen So let's wake up Change the world..Our time is now!!!! You could be a hero - (our time is now) heroes do what's right You could be a hero - (our time is now) you might save a life You could be a hero - (our time is now) you could join the fight For what's right, for what's right, for what's right
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
Hero
No one sits with him,he doesn't fit in But we feel like we do when we make fun of him Cause you want to belong,do you go along? Cause his pain is the price paid for you to belong It's not like you hate him or want him to die But maybe he goes home and thinks suicide Or he comes back to school with a gun at his side And any kindness from you might have saved his life Heroes are made when you make a choice You could be a hero - heroes do what's right You could be a hero - you might save a life You could be a hero - you could join the fight For what's right.... No one talks to her, she feels so alone She's in too much pain to survive on her own The hurt she can't handle overflows to a knife She writes on her arm wants to give up her life Each day she goes on is a day that she's brave Fighting the lie that giving up is the way Each moment of courage her own life she saves When she throws the pills out a hero is made Heroes are made when you make a choice You could be a hero - heroes do what's right You could be a hero - you might save a life You could be a hero - you could join the fight For what's right.... No one talks to him about how he lives He thinks that the choices he makes are just his Doesn't know he's a leader with the way he behaves And others will follow the choices he's made He lives on the edge, he's old enough to decide His brother who wants to be him is just nine He can do what he wants because it's his right The choices he makes change a nine-year-old's life You could be a hero - heroes do what's right You could be a hero - you might save a life You could be a hero - you could join the fight For what's right... Little mikey d was the one in class Who every day got totally harassed This went on for years until he decided That ever again would he shed another tear So he walked out the door Grabbed a 4.4 out of his father's dresser drawer And said I can't take life no more And like that a life is lost But this ain't even about that All of us just sat back And watched it happen Thinking it's not my responsibility To solve a problem that isn't about me This is our problem This is just one of the daily scenarios In which we chose to cause a riot Instead of doing the right thing If we make a choice Be the voice To those who won't speak up for themselves How many lives would be saved Changed, rearranged Now it's our job To take a shot Now don't keep walking by Now why didn't you try Cause you don't want to exist And never be seen So let's wake up Change the world..Our time is now!!!! You could be a hero - (our time is now) heroes do what's right You could be a hero - (our time is now) you might save a life You could be a hero - (our time is now) you could join the fight For what's right, for what's right, for what's right
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72
*adverts and the internet medium:     d'uh... you forgot the capacity   of the mute button...                     wha'? wha'?                                                audi tt? (let's expand on the title: geometry (Y) the three dimensions, and trigonometry (W)... cosine rule, i.e. how three-dimensional space behaves).* i was born in the late 20th century, and, right now,                    i'm seeing the "problem" you thought jews in europe were the problem...               ever read anything           on the subject of kabbalah? i can only reply with sepultura's:                       ra-ta-ma'h-hatta'h... **** me, the tetragrammaton feels like licking a pharaoh's toes in linguistic terms... *and there are always four,             to ensure there's one*.                but at least the aztec pyramids were not burial grounds, or burial monuments, rather, sites of capital punishment...    which the conquistadors misunderstood! only the whites know the concept of ethno-masochism.                       by common-tongue standards so thoroughly expressed with    the desired eloquence, stated, already. social sciences are a disease                             in terms of science per se...      why isn't there a divine intervention         story with regards to the aztec pyramids? **** me and the scaffold!              the largest bird on earth,      and instead of flying off,                 it sticks its head into the earth to "hide".                           that's pushing it... that's saying the non-existence of god is based upon the non-existence of a good joke;           i just don't think he needs to be revered...                  but obviously people have other plans...           never mind the comedian...    mind the moloch;    so they pray, and pray, and ask, and plead, and end up looking like amassed lunatics...    they demand praying...    me? i demand of myself thinking about him... hard to think about nothing,    if i were thinking about nothing,           i simply would be, not thinking;   and you'd probably find me:                                                  painting. but **** me, aztec pyramids didn't receive a divine intervention    but the egyptian pyramids did...    clearly the aztec pyramids weren't vanity projects akin to burial sites / tombs...           clearly...              sites of enforcing capital punishment; years later mis-translated by conquistadors...   and in militant atheistic form...                                               said: retarted.
0
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
aztec pyramids ('h'h catch vowels! / laugh)
*adverts and the internet medium:     d'uh... you forgot the capacity   of the mute button...                     wha'? wha'?                                                audi tt? (let's expand on the title: geometry (Y) the three dimensions, and trigonometry (W)... cosine rule, i.e. how three-dimensional space behaves).* i was born in the late 20th century, and, right now,                    i'm seeing the "problem" you thought jews in europe were the problem...               ever read anything           on the subject of kabbalah? i can only reply with sepultura's:                       ra-ta-ma'h-hatta'h... **** me, the tetragrammaton feels like licking a pharaoh's toes in linguistic terms... *and there are always four,             to ensure there's one*.                but at least the aztec pyramids were not burial grounds, or burial monuments, rather, sites of capital punishment...    which the conquistadors misunderstood! only the whites know the concept of ethno-masochism.                       by common-tongue standards so thoroughly expressed with    the desired eloquence, stated, already. social sciences are a disease                             in terms of science per se...      why isn't there a divine intervention         story with regards to the aztec pyramids? **** me and the scaffold!              the largest bird on earth,      and instead of flying off,                 it sticks its head into the earth to "hide".                           that's pushing it... that's saying the non-existence of god is based upon the non-existence of a good joke;           i just don't think he needs to be revered...                  but obviously people have other plans...           never mind the comedian...    mind the moloch;    so they pray, and pray, and ask, and plead, and end up looking like amassed lunatics...    they demand praying...    me? i demand of myself thinking about him... hard to think about nothing,    if i were thinking about nothing,           i simply would be, not thinking;   and you'd probably find me:                                                  painting. but **** me, aztec pyramids didn't receive a divine intervention    but the egyptian pyramids did...    clearly the aztec pyramids weren't vanity projects akin to burial sites / tombs...           clearly...              sites of enforcing capital punishment; years later mis-translated by conquistadors...   and in militant atheistic form...                                               said: retarted.
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69
well, that was hoped for, otherwise water would have no universal quality, that ascribes it to provide for, every single species of animal; but, mostly man. bugt how does water in ice-cube form, travel outside of its "container": either a cermaic cup, or a glass, to form a water-ring beneath the container? water in, ice-cube form? i'm pretty sure that water without ice-cubes, settled in form at room temp. wouldn't create a water-ring beneath the container... i have only one answer... water in ice-cube form behaves like liquid nitrogen... liquid nitrogen forms a cloud while it evaporates... water can have the properties of liquid nitrogen, in ice-cube form, it will evaporate, like liquid nitrogen out of its container, whether ceramic, or glass, and form a water ring, beneath the container... obviously water doesn't behave liken liquid nitrogen in the all familiar spectacularness of extremes... water is more subtle when compared to liquid nitrogen... you can't see water evaporating... like you might see liquid nitrogen do so... but how else would water, contained in a cup of either glass or ceramics... create a water circle at the base, if it wasn't in liquid nitrogen imitation guise, that was less spectacular and, "invisible" to the naked eye?
0
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
there's no difference between ceramics & glass (liquid nitrogen cf.)