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"burnable" poems
Since when did a letter grade become more important than my personal health? A burnable piece of paper with letter grades and the same teacher comment repeated, became more important to everyone to know my "knowledge". That isn't knowledge if it's just forcing yourself to burn those words formed into a sentence for the definition of a words prefix and suffix. You barely remember anything because you focus on it for a week or two and then never go over it again. But if I oversleep or miss my bus or ride, or if I fall asleep during class or spend the majority of the year in the nurses office it's my fault. It's my fault to show that "HEY I CAN REMEMBER THINGS LOOK SEE I GOT AN A ON SOMETHING I WILL NEVER USE IN MY LIFE OR WILL EVER HEAR OF UNTIL MY KID IS SITTING NEXT TO ME STRESSED AND WORN OUT AND TIRED BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO CLUE ON HOW TO DO THIS AND I CANT DO A **** THING BECAUSE I DONT REMEMBER **** BUT HEY AT LEAST I PASSED RIGHT?"
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Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
School
The empty walls reveal this home's nakedness It's quiet, it's simple It's bare and desolate It's a man who's lost his identity Lost the entities of himself So fragile, yet nothing to break So burnable, yet nothing combustible So emotional, yet quite stoic I walk to the places where we once made love Where I once painted my nails Where I slept under the stars Where you cared for me in sickness Where we lived White noise Where nothing is heard, and what's heard means nothing I'm small in a big place, one that means nothing anymore But I feel this a folly, because I know that it means everything To me
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Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
Nakedness
call me the cancer fairy i bring burnable gifts of chronic emphysema and hopeless addiction with death on your lips i hope that you think of me as the cherry ember glows low and soft grey ash caresses even softer fingertips viva la cigarettes! a love story in smoke
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
coffee shop series #3
It was a perfectly good all-purpose metal trash can. Shouldn't of been haphazardly discarded for the want of a new one. Evidently this was my reasoning at the time as I saved it from oblivion and tossed it in the back of my pick-up truck never knowing the dire ramifications this action would entail.    Tossed in the back of the truck, rattling around, while Jr. Boy and me mosied down some back road. When our world changed. That night. As Jr boy, hiding in the trash can, as the sky fell in firey chunks of read hot magma burning and incinerating everything.  Flames leaping as any thing flamatory flamed, anything burnable burned.  Soon digging holes for water, eating bugs for food But surviving.   For want of a trash can. You carry on Jr boy. Your daddy loves you.  The world needs you.
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Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
Trash Can Story
Intrigued about cremation, I sought GOOGLE to assuage curiosity significant questions answered clicking the following website https://www.funeralwise.com/plan/ cremation/cremation-process/ though summarizing article some oven death defying act, yet summarization satisfactorily completed, thus herewith briefly describes kickstarting, mystifying, pulverizing... tantalizing, yielding, enterprising, lasting, yelping, holding, surviving dearly departed 1. deceased identified 2. official cremation authorized affiliated with deceased 3. lifeless body prepared 4. medical devices removed 5. jewelry recovered 6. corpse secured into burnable cremation receptacle 7. encased entity transferred to retort i.e. cremation chamber 8. temperature range adjusted between 1400 degrees - 1800 degrees Fahrenheit 9. 1.5 - 2 hours elapsed 10. magnet applied residual metal removed 11. remains ground into ashes 12. once process completed remains secured within urn 13. family representative entrusted with ashes. Burnt offerings distributed ideally according to stated wishes of beloved, whose remembrance sustained as tears expended necessary to mourn eventually sorrow lessened, photographs visited after crushing grief decreased.
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Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
Chamber Maid For Cremation
When problems arise in my life i tend to boot my best mate and make poetry my best friend cuz' when the size of my strife is this big.. i find letting a sole piece of paper Carry such a boulder works much better so recently i've tried to let paper carry everything and recently Mr. Paper has dropped a lot of heavy things because paper is tear-able water soluble burnable breakable and a list of other things that make it absolutely terrible for carrying physical objects not summed up in grammatically and emotionally ordered sentences or words hap-hazardously strewn against a milky white canvas Paper really is only good for catching the thoughts that are weighing your head off to one side so they spill out of your ears it gives you some pride in your heavy ****** up thoughts and your slightly lighter but still ****** up head by laying the weight out in front of your eyes and not behind them But the words don't just fall out of ears and onto paper coated with ink and stick like good emotions should no if they're too heavy they'll rip right though and then you only have a gaping hole to try and make sense of try making them run behind your eyelids have them lose some weight i know the pain is unimaginable heavy feet stomping on your nerve endings that exist right behind your eyes makes your stomach hurt doesn't it? makes you cry, makes you scream? it's worth it i promise you just hold my hand and allow these thoughts to lose weight running on your soul ironically shaped like a treadmill you'll know they're ready to leave when your heavy head sulks over a blank page and they spill out of your ears and leave you light as a feather to think and breathe easy again and you're left with a beautiful organization of ****** up nearly obese thoughts and feeling caught beautifully onto a piece of paper and the most beautiful thing to you is that those thoughts are there and you are here trust me i wish the words just fell out i do but the words don't just fall out until they're ready to
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
The words don't just fall out
When problems arise in my life i tend to boot my best mate and make poetry my best friend cuz' when the size of my strife is this big.. i find letting a sole piece of paper Carry such a boulder works much better so recently i've tried to let paper carry everything and recently Mr. Paper has dropped a lot of heavy things because paper is tear-able water soluble burnable breakable and a list of other things that make it absolutely terrible for carrying physical objects not summed up in grammatically and emotionally ordered sentences or words hap-hazardously strewn against a milky white canvas Paper really is only good for catching the thoughts that are weighing your head off to one side so they spill out of your ears it gives you some pride in your heavy ****** up thoughts and your slightly lighter but still ****** up head by laying the weight out in front of your eyes and not behind them But the words don't just fall out of ears and onto paper coated with ink and stick like good emotions should no if they're too heavy they'll rip right though and then you only have a gaping hole to try and make sense of try making them run behind your eyelids have them lose some weight i know the pain is unimaginable heavy feet stomping on your nerve endings that exist right behind your eyes makes your stomach hurt doesn't it? makes you cry, makes you scream? it's worth it i promise you just hold my hand and allow these thoughts to lose weight running on your soul ironically shaped like a treadmill you'll know they're ready to leave when your heavy head sulks over a blank page and they spill out of your ears and leave you light as a feather to think and breathe easy again and you're left with a beautiful organization of ****** up nearly obese thoughts and feeling caught beautifully onto a piece of paper and the most beautiful thing to you is that those thoughts are there and you are here trust me i wish the words just fell out i do but the words don't just fall out until they're ready to
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My head feels like cotton. My limbs are made from wool. My heart is plastic. And my soul is easily burnable wood.
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Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC
A Melancholics Confession