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"betweeen" poems
Phantasmagoric Entranced through the spirals of delusion Limitless misery trapped betweeen the perfect illusion Shattered visions trickle along a joyous dream *********** of deep waters biting through the atlantic sea bream Whispering in the midst of silken white fantasies Swiftly stricken back into the disturbing realities Prismatic colors embedded into a spirit of misconception A darkened certainty embraces its profound deception Peaceful pleasures circling whimsical euphoria Drastically transforming into agitated hysteria Reflecting portraits of tasteful affection Briskly dissolving into appalling fabrication Stimulating my mind with exceptional optimism The day I met you heartbreak obstructed essential wisdom MEGAN JAMES (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 3:44 AM UTC
Phantasmagoric
It. It is. What is it? That's just it: it just is. Fight it if you will. Will does have certain power that knows no known bounds, but Will is nigh useless unless you act. Action can be a step in the wrong direction if you don't stop to consider the implications of the choice. Choice is both a gift and a curse, for we can never know with certainty. Certainty is a generalization for a particular probability that we see to be in our favor. Favor is a slippery slope inexorably leading to isolation. Isolation is what mind felt when saw itself as the pilot of matter. Matter is frozen energy- potential en potentia: Potential. Everything is potential. Create the future you wish to reap. Have the courage to blaze your own trail if none you've found is as you desire; there's nothing wrong with that: It isn't selfish to seek what it is for which your heart and soul cry out. It isn't selfish to refuse to follow a Path laid by another. It isn't selfish to pursue happiness; rather, I find it to be quite the contrary: If we all, independently, could bring about our own ecstasy try to fathom what a rave life could be. Puns may be intended; ne'er forget to read between the lines- read between the words themselves, and look within them as well as thyself for comprehension; for understanding. Words are such funny tools. Such is a theme of mine. Tools be not at fault for the evil that is so often wrought by them; they are a catalyst; a medium: a sort-of transmittal of intention: A hammer can build or **** with similar effort and ease if only the Will is so inclined. That is the boundless power of Will. That is our responsibility as conscious beings. One must seek construction of the Self, rather than destruction of the Other. For, what is destruction of the Other if not destruction of the Self from the outside in ? (All off my questions are rhetorical and not. Answer them. I dare you. They are my challenges. Therein lies the journey to understanding the Self; or, as they call it in academia: "Philosophy.") I find that One finds what One seeks, whether it is harmony or dissonance or anything else in between. (Or, maybe that's a product of my own bias!) Thy every moment may differ, but t'is of thy Path that I speak. Tread lightly, my friend. Only you can bear thy torch- but, the true crux is refusing to drop it until you no longer require it.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:22 AM UTC
Write betweeen the Lines
It. It is. What is it? That's just it: it just is. Fight it if you will. Will does have certain power that knows no known bounds, but Will is nigh useless unless you act. Action can be a step in the wrong direction if you don't stop to consider the implications of the choice. Choice is both a gift and a curse, for we can never know with certainty. Certainty is a generalization for a particular probability that we see to be in our favor. Favor is a slippery slope inexorably leading to isolation. Isolation is what mind felt when saw itself as the pilot of matter. Matter is frozen energy- potential en potentia: Potential. Everything is potential. Create the future you wish to reap. Have the courage to blaze your own trail if none you've found is as you desire; there's nothing wrong with that: It isn't selfish to seek what it is for which your heart and soul cry out. It isn't selfish to refuse to follow a Path laid by another. It isn't selfish to pursue happiness; rather, I find it to be quite the contrary: If we all, independently, could bring about our own ecstasy try to fathom what a rave life could be. Puns may be intended; ne'er forget to read between the lines- read between the words themselves, and look within them as well as thyself for comprehension; for understanding. Words are such funny tools. Such is a theme of mine. Tools be not at fault for the evil that is so often wrought by them; they are a catalyst; a medium: a sort-of transmittal of intention: A hammer can build or **** with similar effort and ease if only the Will is so inclined. That is the boundless power of Will. That is our responsibility as conscious beings. One must seek construction of the Self, rather than destruction of the Other. For, what is destruction of the Other if not destruction of the Self from the outside in ? (All off my questions are rhetorical and not. Answer them. I dare you. They are my challenges. Therein lies the journey to understanding the Self; or, as they call it in academia: "Philosophy.") I find that One finds what One seeks, whether it is harmony or dissonance or anything else in between. (Or, maybe that's a product of my own bias!) Thy every moment may differ, but t'is of thy Path that I speak. Tread lightly, my friend. Only you can bear thy torch- but, the true crux is refusing to drop it until you no longer require it.
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83
Livin' a lie this life might as well be a crime cuzz my career is based on the money i'll be making instead of the joy i'll be faking perhaps i'm crazy according to you, i'm lazy and who am i supposed to believe betweeen my lova and his brotha laying on the bathroom floor starring underneath the door you want your credit? well here you'll get it! I'll etch your name right into my arm and you''ll blame it on your alarm
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Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 1:47 PM UTC
You Liar.
are you what. ((i think you are)? the body). i think you are (which is just slightly rotund just easily weak. fit betweeen your years) long and barely skinny of arms. O and you are what (i think) you are?what? (you are the rushing keenly that joins vein and soul; singing ) You are. and what you are is vertically serene wonderfully pleasant falling.
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
Untitled
my heart aches for you while i wait for you ive been wishing for a day or two just to be with you and my heart smiles and my eyes shine because ive been wishing for a day or two just to be with you and i dont have to wish because you're mine and i stopped wishing and stopped dreaming because my dreams were all coming true i wanted to spend my life with you always- and i still do and we're still spending and its not ending and i think you love me too and you're still mine and your eyes shine as your heart smiles as it entertwines with mine like these lines end betweeen the lines to express what i guess i'm trying to say is i love you and you love me and i cant believe it but i finally believe that im awake and one day youll wake up next to me and see- and you'll remember that day i said -i need a ring
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Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 3:40 PM UTC
I Need A Ring
Most days I survive But it would be unkind And sort of rude If I did not take a day Or a night here and there Just to grieve For the heart Ripped from my chest And the soul ****** from betweeen my toes They were mine And they were stolen A blessing in a way But still my nerves Are frayed and split And send messages to a brain Overloaded with drugs And fill with pain So tonight a grieve One candle lit And one sleeve barred Goodnight I say Goodnight you sleep But you will rest While my skin weeps
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC
I Mourn My Soul