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"blued" poems
I never really cared for blue-eyed people. Bright or pale; A common color for the male or female. But let my tell you a tale Of a blued-eyed boy Who never toyed with this green-eyed girl. He put her head in a whirl. Love is what they called it. She'd look into those blue eyes; The color she never cared for But now she could never be bored Of looking at these blue-eyed people, Who were more abundant than she thought Maybe they fought For the same thing she was looking for; The Love of a boy Who wasn't the one to toy With that green-eyed girl.
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Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 12:27 PM UTC
Blue-eyed Boy
I gave her the full 140 No Punctuation Necessary HottoTrot LickedandLocked Missed the spot and blued my rocks Cause she was on her.
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
Twitterpated
If jealousy is a green eyed monster, Anxiety will be a blued eyed monster With thorns that you do not take notice of Until its too late and you are trapped in its suffocating embrace. Save me, please. Anxiety will rob you of your breath She leaves you gasping for air when everyone can breathe just fine. I can't look around, Or they will know there is no heart next to my failing lungs. Save me, please. Anxiety will steal your light away She will leave you in darkness When she knows your fear of the dark will **** you. My eyes look around wildly Seeing yet unseeing I need to find my way out of this crowd. There are too many eyes that can see through me She keeps me blind. Save me, please Anxiety will take away your courage I am not brave enough to be in a room full of people. I am not brave enough to talk to the girl sitting beside me for the last six months I am not brave enough to look into your eyes. Anxiety is a blue-eyed monster that won't give me back my courage. Please please please, give it back.
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Anxiety, The Blue-Eyed Monster
To rivit and gaze abrrantly Your visually sick behind retina Processing on whimsical stammor Docket’s of false telltale pouring from hundreds of mouths All while one gamming sheray from your eyes says enough Those worn graying-blued bags underneath; They show a hard working bluff Devised; let’s embellish our stares of evil on outward crowds Let us pick out other bagged eye crevices, and not moving blabbers’ Nothing but the time they’ve gave; those wise ******* dabblers’ We glance the demon out for thrill We are the visually ill.
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Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 8:37 AM UTC
Visually ILL
There is this girl, blonde hair blue eyes. Her stunning blue eyes get their color the same way water and the sky get their true rich blue color. They scatter light so that more blue light reflects back out. Her hair shines so bright, as bright as the sun in the sky. Warming my heart during the daytime. When I look into her eyes, I see a beautiful ocean, peaceful and at ease. I see gentleness and her personality coming free. It's ever so engaging. I tell her her beauty and personalities flourish. She's a flower child. She's the sweetest hippie bringing me peace and tranquility. Her words can not describe her smile it's so contagious. It's no wonder why she leaves me ever so speechless. If I could be with this girl, I'd do my all to give her the world in which she deserves.
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Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 12:31 AM UTC
Blonde Hair Blued Eyed Hippie
How many years will it take me to forget the days we lapped the corners of your mother's artless garden tottering on Autumn's fruitless season. The sunken mornings brought winds of rupture in our chests; mingling in our underwear, standing in the doorway while I whistled you a song about how intimacy can be undoubtedly forgettable like the moon-blued waves we saw the weekend before sleeping on the south shores of Astoria. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up. Sea salt stuck in my scrawny hair and we wasted the afternoons trembling beneath layers of flickering guilt. This moment, yearned to have its imprint swollen shut into the crevice of my bones. But now, its tides later and you married last October and I don't see the point in remembering you. Now half-drunk on an absentee love.
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Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Aubade
You were kind and beautiful and through the nights you remained in my mind. please, recall you can take all your love on me, don't decline in restless, but oh Leanna intertwine your hopes and dreams with me. Lilly. You have always been wild so free so to inspire the man's conscious and just merely leave and follow your ply. Lilly. And that I may turn you into literature and through this ink spill the blued words of shame and unspoken. Lilly. From Ben Howard to the coffees, and your yellow hat to your thoughts knobby, where would I find you again? And where do I regain desire to what I make more mistakes of? Lilly. Is every man an island? or do the wolves shout for company? What is a travel and curiosity? And the blessed of these in the scriptures? What is of the nice dancing shoes? And the late night events? Are they all ephemeral? Less and less do I believe Leanna. I'll pick the crumbs of yours, is better than to overflow of anything else. Lilly, I fell in love I miss you I do not know of this middle ground I live in anymore. "'Cause I'll always remember you the same"
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Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
Lilly
Blackened and blued flesh fades to green and yellow but more will bloom beneath the skin soon. Bruises from crazy nights out with strangers and ***** or wild nights in with new friends (read: not yours) and *** and I never know when they appear, but I watch them disappear. Nearly clear ***** lines the bag in my trash with paraphernalia of alcoholism littered on top. Bottles and cans and disposable $1.99 shot glasses layered between Chinese take out and a broken six inch heel pump. The smell might bother me if I was home more. I haven't met the mornings for coffee in what seems like years, instead I stumble inside lay on a stained mattress surrounded by clothing and sleep it off. It used to be different, but without anyone to stop me, why not live it up? There is no reason to slow down any more. I have new friends and new hobbies and I've nearly forgotten your face now. So why should I stop, when my new plans The ones without you, are going accordingly? There is no real problem with enjoying my youth, and if you disagree let me take you out with me. You're the one who told me to grow up when I said, "I love you." and if I choose not to, I'll leave you at the bottom of whatever drink I choose. There's no real problem with enjoying my youth, right?
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Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Booze-soaked Rebound Period
Silver leaf fallen, shimmering starlight reflecting pools of streaked lightning Where the wolves go to feed the young By running clear waters Blued by time In that place where the elms bleed Darkness. There we see in visions of mist straight paths narrow fields of Thermopolae Sadness creeps And the mist it lingers Forgotten dreams of memories you never had settling In the hallowed place Where a freeman walks The lonely path In Darkness. Creep Silence of the stills
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Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
The Wanderer
He gets all the pretty babes, owns all the cool gadgets. Some say he's a magician, but I say he's much more than that. He's very slick, so in tune with his spy-side, he can easily handle Paris traffic at rush hour, knows all about diabolical-power & how to stop it. His smooth-ride cruises fast in turbo overdrive, buzzes down the road like a well-tuned beehive. All the cool tunes play along with him & he likes his things shaken not stirred. Roulette, no trouble, he'll burst the bank bubble. O that sweet little cherry-blued PPK! Hey now, pow pow, he knows the endgame, how to kick some cloak-and-dagger *** up & down the street. That's why, I want to be James Bond, knock the ladies & the thugs right off their feet!
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Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
I Want To Be James Bond
To Tyler, My bestest friend of all these years of developing youth and developing adult, I will you my rifle. Produced under scrutiny, post-war, blued by Chinese furnaces and inspected by communist advisers. I assign this to you my friend in hope that you will recognize more in this object than its role in my suicide. Guns are not the enemy, only the tool. The tool of my execution carried out by the enemy, Our world. And Our society. And Our suffering. This rifle, my prize. Is accurate. And powerful. And a threat to 5 lives at a time. A symbol of my free will, dissolved into the blood stains and skull fragments laced on its finely carved wooden stock. In my life, I had loaned to you this talisman of my depression, But now, in the wake of my death, you will see the weight of my previous actions. My prolonging of life and effort to resolve the suffering and dread I endure. Tyler. ******* T-Swens. Sweeny Todd. Squidward. Twizzler. Squib. Many names you have been known by myself and our peers, but erasing human choice and force, you have been known to me and my soul as a Savior of myself for far too long. You have been Beacon for my hope, Home to my catharsis, Shelter to my heart and Medic to my wounds. I love you as most one person can love another without supporting the same roof with the pillars of our spines. I love you as a brother and friend and father and son and twin soul and caring teacher and patient keeper. We are two peas as they say. We finish each other's thoughts. We read the same material and play the same games and breathe the same circles and eat the same vocabulary and sneeze the same curses. Like two strings of ivy, supporting one another as they grow and twirl. We fight each other in attempts to suffocate our foefriend, at the same time as relying on our friendfoe for the support to grow higher and steal more light. I love you my ivy brother. And I apologize for everything. Please do not take my death too hard. Mourn and grieve and move on. I was not a cinder block for your foundation. I was a twin building. Of sister architecture and of sister glasswork. We stood for not one score before my sore soul was stole by this full world. You will stand further. And I admire you for it, as much as I pity you for having to endure this slow acid rain and littering of broken cans and smoke rings. Rest in peace for me, because there is no rest in death, you know this. - Marshall. Jackledead. Pompous and loud ******* and drama queen. Forever friend.
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
To Tyler/My Rifle
To Tyler, My bestest friend of all these years of developing youth and developing adult, I will you my rifle. Produced under scrutiny, post-war, blued by Chinese furnaces and inspected by communist advisers. I assign this to you my friend in hope that you will recognize more in this object than its role in my suicide. Guns are not the enemy, only the tool. The tool of my execution carried out by the enemy, Our world. And Our society. And Our suffering. This rifle, my prize. Is accurate. And powerful. And a threat to 5 lives at a time. A symbol of my free will, dissolved into the blood stains and skull fragments laced on its finely carved wooden stock. In my life, I had loaned to you this talisman of my depression, But now, in the wake of my death, you will see the weight of my previous actions. My prolonging of life and effort to resolve the suffering and dread I endure. Tyler. ******* T-Swens. Sweeny Todd. Squidward. Twizzler. Squib. Many names you have been known by myself and our peers, but erasing human choice and force, you have been known to me and my soul as a Savior of myself for far too long. You have been Beacon for my hope, Home to my catharsis, Shelter to my heart and Medic to my wounds. I love you as most one person can love another without supporting the same roof with the pillars of our spines. I love you as a brother and friend and father and son and twin soul and caring teacher and patient keeper. We are two peas as they say. We finish each other's thoughts. We read the same material and play the same games and breathe the same circles and eat the same vocabulary and sneeze the same curses. Like two strings of ivy, supporting one another as they grow and twirl. We fight each other in attempts to suffocate our foefriend, at the same time as relying on our friendfoe for the support to grow higher and steal more light. I love you my ivy brother. And I apologize for everything. Please do not take my death too hard. Mourn and grieve and move on. I was not a cinder block for your foundation. I was a twin building. Of sister architecture and of sister glasswork. We stood for not one score before my sore soul was stole by this full world. You will stand further. And I admire you for it, as much as I pity you for having to endure this slow acid rain and littering of broken cans and smoke rings. Rest in peace for me, because there is no rest in death, you know this. - Marshall. Jackledead. Pompous and loud ******* and drama queen. Forever friend.
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12
Low are the crickets of Delphi With their chirping rays of sunset, Like Phaethon to photon destructs Into the fiery ruts of chariot wheels, Or two eagles flying opposed on stringed vicissitudes, A bird-yarning of sky from the omphalos stone, The fulcrum of sung misery, a fishing net thrown, As the half-bird and half-ion in siren’s undertones Lure in subatomic orbs of ghostly parabolic swerve, Into this blued Corinthian evening, self-vibrato, Rocking like an empty boat from the dock rope, Or an empty heart, unmoved by its own beating.
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May 11, 2025
May 11, 2025 at 10:06 PM UTC
Last Heartbeat of Delphi
I scream At The top of my lungs No sound Comes out... Silent Curdling screams Is all I have, left now! I wrestle I fight With All my physical might While Being forced down By The mighty strength Of Many men The pungent smells Of dirt Sweat And grime Embed In my senses Their ghastly, hot breathes Making me Want to puke! Their hands All over me, Violating me Constantly grabbing And Groping me While hollering And cheering Each other, on! Someone, Punches me Someone, I cannot see A large, man’s hand Covers my mouth And nose Muffling, My soulful cries Terrorizing my insides "I can’t breathe now!" Many Heavy handed Blows follow I watch My scarlet red blood ‘Splatter’ Upon The snow white sheets That Surround me My sacred blood spilled My salty tears Mixed With the stench Of men’s, body fluids My body A raging torrent Of Pure hot fire! A living hell As The men continue Their wild frenzy Devouring Every morsel Left, Of My dignity! My body Weak...and weary It is fighting For It’s God given right To live! My life Flashing before my eyes The sounds around me Beginning to fade... My eyes Glazing over My body Goes limp My body, betraying me! In this moment I pray For this is not my will But Their own! “Please heavenly Father, Have mercy Upon their souls” “Please Forgive these men As I do, now, For They Will Never, take me away from you!" Blackened tears of mascara Weave Their way down, Through the ****** crevasses Of My black & blued skin My body used up A lifeless vessel Totally, numb! My innocence My dignity As a Woman Stripped away No one Can save me, now The worst is done! I am bashed! I am beaten! I am worn! I am nothing No more!
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Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
Soulful Cries
I scream At The top of my lungs No sound Comes out... Silent Curdling screams Is all I have, left now! I wrestle I fight With All my physical might While Being forced down By The mighty strength Of Many men The pungent smells Of dirt Sweat And grime Embed In my senses Their ghastly, hot breathes Making me Want to puke! Their hands All over me, Violating me Constantly grabbing And Groping me While hollering And cheering Each other, on! Someone, Punches me Someone, I cannot see A large, man’s hand Covers my mouth And nose Muffling, My soulful cries Terrorizing my insides "I can’t breathe now!" Many Heavy handed Blows follow I watch My scarlet red blood ‘Splatter’ Upon The snow white sheets That Surround me My sacred blood spilled My salty tears Mixed With the stench Of men’s, body fluids My body A raging torrent Of Pure hot fire! A living hell As The men continue Their wild frenzy Devouring Every morsel Left, Of My dignity! My body Weak...and weary It is fighting For It’s God given right To live! My life Flashing before my eyes The sounds around me Beginning to fade... My eyes Glazing over My body Goes limp My body, betraying me! In this moment I pray For this is not my will But Their own! “Please heavenly Father, Have mercy Upon their souls” “Please Forgive these men As I do, now, For They Will Never, take me away from you!" Blackened tears of mascara Weave Their way down, Through the ****** crevasses Of My black & blued skin My body used up A lifeless vessel Totally, numb! My innocence My dignity As a Woman Stripped away No one Can save me, now The worst is done! I am bashed! I am beaten! I am worn! I am nothing No more!
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128
Could which of nature's art, out-glow her grace? Of silver specks in night, I start with ease; her pupils win as deeper they, than space, should stars so blued auroral night, she'd seize! As solar orange fuses morning sky that but a glimpse of beauty I behold, when dreams awake she enters then mine eye the golden sunbursts were as tho' my mold. If clouding vapour then above appease and raindrops drip her hair as red as wine her pageant dousing, even humbles trees! For Winter's peers outdone by her own shine. Partake above and let all plush combine! And still would splendor short - to lady mine.
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Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
Her Beauty Shines (Sonnet)
Nothing can be said from the lip of the sun, To array with full redress the wind-flayed waters Of the river-run and the naked broomrape of Spring, Absolve naiads of their blued minstrelsy in venous scream, Or pour a yellow songbird from the gold-rimmed cup of war. Nothing is said in the liver-spotted ground of rain-ghosted gardens, Where love’s monument is a blot of dried flowers and grayed thorns.
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Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 10:44 PM UTC
Pour out the Yellow Songbird
I will take a train to Babylon but never declare my own trespassing bombs Red dirt in the mind is hardened and seduced for one minute and then lost Pedestrians are mowed down as I hoard weapons for ecstasy I bathe in hard water a blued frontier explorer while the sun is nothing I have to smother your discoveries while you come onto filth icicles The letters of the killed mark my path announcing biblical winter
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Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Americana
Blued, nickel reflecting light, Shining on the Reaper. Frosted steel Open-mouthed, Longing to swallow A half-dozen biscuits 1 part Copper, 1 part brass, 2 parts lead, 1 part saltpeter, 1 part charcoal, 1 part sulfur, The recipe for the dough. Once masticated in jaws of tungsten It spits the metal bolus, And gives new name to grim.
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Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
Spitting Biscuits
I long for that cold, blued steel against my skin as I anticipate the end. I could easily take my life. In the corner rests my rifle and cartridges. I don't know why I don't do it. I don't like living and I don't appreciate my days. Joyless. No afterlife. Nothing. So why don't I just Tie this knot.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
The Rifle
071816 #03:35PM #Rob Every glimpse makes a poetry, With no words to express, Sometimes, it tells the story. Never did I imagine That I'll write you a love song, Then words meet their infinity Until I wasn't able to count every page ripped. And when my heart was about to drown, Even in dreams, I had some thoughts of you -- Of you, telling me to fly, Head held high To see glitters of blued sky. And so I asked the Author, "Is this true love?" "Is it worth waiting for?" Seeing you Is a picture of my future. Being with you Would be an ultimate mixed emotions, I waited for too long, Until the ending became a new beginning. And if it's really love, Never would I want to unlearn it. It's more than just crazy emotions, More than feelings disguised. With this, my faith says, "I trust the Author, And that makes me love you more. I love you coz He first loved me."
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 4:55 AM UTC
The Picture of My Future
heavy eyes sink, into my hollow skull. finger tips blued, nails chipped and worn. it began with a coldness, washing over my vibrant being. how I miss the body, I once was. It pried melodies from my throat, and composed a dirge where they resided. then, it filled my lungs with sludge, that way, when I cried out, the tune would further corrupt. I lay helpless, worn, and tattered. I do nothing but lay, and wait, for the familiar embrace, of health.
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Dec 29, 2024
Dec 29, 2024 at 1:53 PM UTC
Aching
She takes my hand, unconsciously pulls me away, then kisses me warm, all through out the day. this unique love she gives, is over than what I've expected. I am extremely blessed on how she fits her ways, it's embedded. She is beautiful, her face I love to stare at. her hands I usually hold. feels just right every time. Makes me clean again, my spirits have awakened; this true love I am holding, my ego's never threatened Makes me feel refreshed, when her brown eyes lays on me. makes me want to love this girl endlessly. I am deeply impressed by her positive attitude. unlike others she has that honest heart that was never blued. A love that is stronger than anything from the past. I will extremely do anything for us, My dearest, let's make this love last.
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Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 4:59 AM UTC
She's the one