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"calloused" poems
They rest all over whilst I was rooted to the ground, the water acting like superglue as my limbs stretched out. Towards the clumps of land rods of steal and wood weaved, to connect and ***** that which we call humanity. But there were abuse on the rods formed by hands who'd calloused hearts, poison coursing through their veins, but not a single thought was given for they were innocent in their brain. Said limbs and rods spiraled out, as nothing was left to chance, intertwining everyone's destiny in majestic flare and grace, grand like a ballerina's dance. But the poison was too corrosive, the termites were too much, as everything eroded, imploded, crumbled and buried under mounds of earth. But today is different, a new beginning, a new life. As if the gods have willed something better to arrive. Indeed they came: Ports forged from purity anew, where fresh legs are delivered and old legs whisked away. For no matter how dark it was, is, will be, even during the night, there always is and will be a pip of light.
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
A Gift of What Was and What Will
My skin is frying, I can't stop crying, I feel like I'm dying. Your touch soothes my fever, your arms hold me together, your bed is my grave. ...   This flame of desire inside me burning so bright, only you can save me on this night. ... Here I lay dripping with desire, for your arrival to calm my fire.   Fill me, tempt me, push me to the limit, with your burning, chilling touch of Frostbite, Please save me this night! ... Call me your "Good Girl", pet me, Play, withdraw your heat and watch me sway, Please Sir, don't take this blissful feeling away. ... I wait on my knees by your side, Not because I am expected to, but because it is where I feel safest. ... **** me roughly, love me tenderly Strip me bare till there's nothing left, build me up and tear me apart In your calloused hands, I place my tender heart. ...
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
Submissive's song
A penny sits in the middle of my hand. Vaguely warm and slightly worn But still shining brightly. On one side you see the current residence of The late Abraham Lincoln. On the other you see the man himself Facing to the right As if watching for assassins. I roll it around in my palm, The rough edges scraping past my Calloused hands. I can almost hear it sigh With relief as I put it back Down again.
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Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
Hard Work
I never knew what beauty was until I saw him With every imperfection, With every stumble, and with every stutter, My heart knocks hard inside my chest Trying to escape Hoping to be captured by his warm, calloused fingers. And you don't even know who I am That day you bumped into me I dropped all my books You helped me pick them up And I got to look into your eyes They were a lovely color Not even Picasso could recreate And you still don't even know who I am We bumped into one another again at a party You slurred apologies and "excuse me's" And I laughed it off Trying to Ignore the fact that your hand was creeping on my waist Your fingertips igniting sparks in my skin You held your deep gaze with your Picasso-colored eyes And dragged me into a room tripping over nothing I thought you finally knew who I was The next day at school you bumped into me again You had dropped my phone This time you didn't pick it up And you walked away without a second glance or apology And you still don't even know who I am
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Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Beauty
My father wears leather work boots they are tough and worn with thick but thinning soles My father has calloused hands they are thick and strong from years of work and guitar My father plays an old guitar it's beautiful and cracked and comes to life at his touch My father has a big heart as worn as his boots strong as his hands and more beautiful than his old guitar
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
Worn, Strong, And Beautiful
We wear this city on our feet Planting our roots with each step Our shadows cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak We grow here with the spirit of buildings past, present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance, the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense, spires for steeples, the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles of our feet pounding the pavement, Our congregation seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage They march downtown toward Capitol holding signs for disarmament They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance They move in a blur of faces that become us, Rush at all hours through our veins Cross our hearts and keep us breathing, Moving wearing the city on our minds like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads We assume monk-like appearances in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet, We'll wear their dreams at night like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour We'll keep walking and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders under the watch of their heavens, the skyline a glowing testament of every step taken toward someplace higher.
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Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Becoming Raleigh
We wear this city on our feet Planting our roots with each step Our shadows cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak We grow here with the spirit of buildings past, present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance, the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense, spires for steeples, the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles of our feet pounding the pavement, Our congregation seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage They march downtown toward Capitol holding signs for disarmament They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance They move in a blur of faces that become us, Rush at all hours through our veins Cross our hearts and keep us breathing, Moving wearing the city on our minds like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads We assume monk-like appearances in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet, We'll wear their dreams at night like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour We'll keep walking and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders under the watch of their heavens, the skyline a glowing testament of every step taken toward someplace higher.
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37
His hands are long, calloused and inviting. Scars tell stories, scattered across his knuckles. He has one hand cradled in the other, tapping and rubbing his palm with his fingers. His mind is a jungle: heavy, sticky, lush, challenging to navigate, surrounded by undecayed green and unobstructed sea. “Are you anxious?” His hands are moving rapidly, yellow parrotbills flitting in and out of the tall tree trunks and violet, epiphytic orchids of his mind. Turning to face me, he stretches his lips into a smile. He assures me that he is fine, but he doesn’t see any birds.
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Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
Epiphyte
I feel your silky hair through my rough, calloused hands Your flawless skin softens this hardened heart Melting away into your arms Gentle scratches across my bare back remind me, That I am far from alone in this cold world I crave this beautiful touch, not between lovers A reassuring brush of the shoulder and a deserving look Eyes that sparkle like a priceless gem A wise, bullied soul with a sharp wit to match The voice that strikes fear into me, as a conscious into a person My love, do not mistake this weary traveler for an idiot
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Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 2:25 AM UTC
Work To Be Done
I'm tired of taking off my own belt I'm tired of feeling what I've felt I'm tired of giving up so easy I'm tired of no one trying to see me I'm tired of complaining and whining I'm tired of the wanting and pining I'm tired of sleeping all alone I'm tired of staying at home I'm tired of listening my thoughts I'm tired of everything I've got I'm tired of staring on the mirror I'm tired of trying to wipe it clear I'm tired of silent, early mornings I'm tired of romantically mourning I'm tired of my ever-drying lips I'm tired of my calloused fingertips I'm tired of listening to happy people I'm tired of being frail and feeble I'm tired of being alone I'm tired of being alone
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Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
I'm Tired
I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon. She guards the night sky... While I patrol these grounds... Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon. I am a vessel... all emptied and barren. what once was full, now echoes faint the glories of yesteryears. Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen. I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own. Immortalised... Anchored... to a body of mist and haze... Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown... I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms. Hope etched tight into my knackered knuckles and calloused digits. Please... take them in yours... soothe them... grant me your touch, your coveted balm.
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
Derelict
Seeing her frail wings In his calloused hands         He had                 To let                         Her go
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
The Butterfly Princess
*Life is my current lover. I swig her ephemeral taste from my cupped hands worried as the golden, shimmering liquid rushes through creases and cracks in my jaded hands. Her mood varies through my stages; at times she is of doting temper and roseate kisses but when love evades her, most often than not, her calloused hands damage the pearly flesh in tender places, and discontent paints a surly mood as she digs her crimson brush against the canvas of my self. Life is my inconsistent lover, sometimes doting but most often than not abusive. So I vowed my eternal devotion to Death. We escape under the dark canopy of starless wings; a tryst. I eat of the forbidden feasts in the Kingdom of Hades, grains of scarlet pomegranates staining my chapped lips. Death has promised me perpetuity. But until Life decides to release me from her capricious temper, I shall long for the wintry, rainy comfort of my drowsy affair.*
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
An affair with Death
so i get this idea sometimes that you enjoy being coy when it comes to me to conjure momentary spectacle & make me wonder if you paint catharsis on the doors of a home you've never lived in as a memory of our first night together because i do, i remember you beaming white on blue speaking softer than any storm i ever knew, i often think that maybe you live that night in your mind when your pillow is cold & you can't sleep, it makes me wonder if you do as i do, and rewrite three years fictionally beginning with a kiss somewhere maybe a balcony or a quiet car on the sand or in a sunlit grove close to your home but always a familiar scar on the maps we know we know by heart i wonder if sometimes the idea of me loving you is too real and if it teems under your tongue to stay observant but distantly intrigued if by this distance you think it safe to get a dog and pass time on the couch with a journal & some wine what i really wanna know is if your fingernails ever wish to have my skin under them or if they would boast about winning a war with my headboard i wonder if you can imagine me meeting your parents in your apartment & shaking your fathers hand as a first of many calloused palm readings and if you know that i trembled before them how insignificant i had felt to not know their daughter in the way i had envisioned how i picture such poignant moments so tangibly sharp that sometimes i replace my memories with little stories i tell myself that i can't count on two hands the number of times i've seen you & that i don't feel like a crater when i recollect our collisions i want to know if you still find madness in the words that have always been about you i wanna know if your imagination of me looks more like an anniversary or an obituary
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Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
bars in your hometown
so i get this idea sometimes that you enjoy being coy when it comes to me to conjure momentary spectacle & make me wonder if you paint catharsis on the doors of a home you've never lived in as a memory of our first night together because i do, i remember you beaming white on blue speaking softer than any storm i ever knew, i often think that maybe you live that night in your mind when your pillow is cold & you can't sleep, it makes me wonder if you do as i do, and rewrite three years fictionally beginning with a kiss somewhere maybe a balcony or a quiet car on the sand or in a sunlit grove close to your home but always a familiar scar on the maps we know we know by heart i wonder if sometimes the idea of me loving you is too real and if it teems under your tongue to stay observant but distantly intrigued if by this distance you think it safe to get a dog and pass time on the couch with a journal & some wine what i really wanna know is if your fingernails ever wish to have my skin under them or if they would boast about winning a war with my headboard i wonder if you can imagine me meeting your parents in your apartment & shaking your fathers hand as a first of many calloused palm readings and if you know that i trembled before them how insignificant i had felt to not know their daughter in the way i had envisioned how i picture such poignant moments so tangibly sharp that sometimes i replace my memories with little stories i tell myself that i can't count on two hands the number of times i've seen you & that i don't feel like a crater when i recollect our collisions i want to know if you still find madness in the words that have always been about you i wanna know if your imagination of me looks more like an anniversary or an obituary
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47
Eyes like massive clanks- gazes morphed to lanced boils, lungs ache and the tumour of hopeless alien weird melts an old painting we used to call 'existence.' Ankles dry, calloused thoughts, skin peels to reveal oozing flesh. **** sinks in and swallows floating zinc; immune. Consuming ex-cadavers in mall parking lots and pushing the crippled in shopping carts, an ankle twisted, a mother swallowed monetary ***** the stock market became the shelf market, and creation wondered if we were okay with frozen pizza for dinner. Life dragged on and on, the world swirled on twitter feeds and Facebook statuses, the streets completed laps around our better judgements and our better lives, we sank to scheduled escapism and believed that one day we would find the light despite our never left-look. Massive intention swelled to disjointed shark search. A witch-hunt to burn unhappiness in it's own angry passion. Bones; cost efficient at the least and designed in the weirdness of erosion-return. Miniature intention swelled to grabs solidarity. A manhunt to freeze stillness in it's own endless silence. What complete? What shatter-tastic ****** Eyes like massive clanks- gazes morphed to lanced boils, lungs ache and the tumour of hopeless alien weird melts an old painting we used to call 'existence.'
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
photography and morphed photography
Like a rose I'm filled with thorns for you, Hold me in your hands, And let my petals caress your calloused fingers Like a rose I'm filled with thorns for you, Inhale my scent, And let my aroma overwhelm your virile body Like a rose I'm filled with thorns for you, Open your heart, And let my thorns wound your most intimate place Like a rose I'm filled with thorns for you, Because you inflicted The most painful sentiment In my heart And now my revenge Is to let you feel it too with my thorns only for you
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Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:44 PM UTC
Rose
You can't save me With you smoke veiled eyes Filled with honesty and deceit Your words Falling like the ocean Deafens me With their beauty In silence And it's not enough Those lines About me In the tattered notebook My initials On your skin Tattooed And scarred Like the rain in the sky With echoes Like thunder Following the sobs You hide behind your calloused hands Can't you ever Show me the lightening Because that's the only thing I need to see And the thunder From me Is all you need to hear But my lightening Is what you get to see And you think it's everything But how can everything Last only a second?
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
thunder & lightening
My mother's breath is tainted with alcohol She's on my floor, sleeping away the dinner she refused to swallow I try to forget she was never there, and remember how hollow Her skinny love for me was, and I ate my way into her Hell The first cigarette, the first drink, the first time I forgot to think I was induced in her fairy tale, my morals wothout ink, to go on I tried to slip away, grasp a hint of bliss I did catch something, and that was a fish Her name was Autumn Her hands on my shoulders, mine on her hips We were one glance away, and this time, it hit An anchor she was, I left my dreaded life behind I took her calloused hand, and she took mine Our pasts weren't us, they were our luggage We dropped it off far back, buried it, covered it A pair of suicidal lovers, a kiss above the chin I was pulled on a thread Seven months of lies She was a chameleon No painful past of cries She wasn't molested Her mom wasn't at the end of the line Her dad didn't abuse her Now wasn't her time She left me longing for another Another Autumn, another lover I didn't love her, I loved who I thought she was I know I will see her again, when the leaves are dust She is so sorry Sorry I'm sad She got to live the life The life I never had I yearn to forget the name of Autumn Until the season leaves, fall from the pealing trees I will lie in the lies of the baked brown leaves Crumple them one by one, calming myself, forming ease Chills form around my neck The same spot my mother gripped my throat It is so hard to love someone, who despises being loved My mother, a liar, a man sitting above
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Living Lies
My mother's breath is tainted with alcohol She's on my floor, sleeping away the dinner she refused to swallow I try to forget she was never there, and remember how hollow Her skinny love for me was, and I ate my way into her Hell The first cigarette, the first drink, the first time I forgot to think I was induced in her fairy tale, my morals wothout ink, to go on I tried to slip away, grasp a hint of bliss I did catch something, and that was a fish Her name was Autumn Her hands on my shoulders, mine on her hips We were one glance away, and this time, it hit An anchor she was, I left my dreaded life behind I took her calloused hand, and she took mine Our pasts weren't us, they were our luggage We dropped it off far back, buried it, covered it A pair of suicidal lovers, a kiss above the chin I was pulled on a thread Seven months of lies She was a chameleon No painful past of cries She wasn't molested Her mom wasn't at the end of the line Her dad didn't abuse her Now wasn't her time She left me longing for another Another Autumn, another lover I didn't love her, I loved who I thought she was I know I will see her again, when the leaves are dust She is so sorry Sorry I'm sad She got to live the life The life I never had I yearn to forget the name of Autumn Until the season leaves, fall from the pealing trees I will lie in the lies of the baked brown leaves Crumple them one by one, calming myself, forming ease Chills form around my neck The same spot my mother gripped my throat It is so hard to love someone, who despises being loved My mother, a liar, a man sitting above
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40
I'm fully aware Of the sadness in your kiss, But the softness of your lips Makes it easy to bear. And yes, I am conscious That your kind hands are calloused, But I will always hold them, I will always be there.
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
The Creation
Loving is inevitable. Yet somehow, people say that love is a choice. You can choose to love or not love somebody. I never wanted to, but I did. Loving you was not my choice— not mine to begin with. But I did. I love how your calloused fingers, all beaten up because of your love for paintbrushes and canvases, held mine tightly and intertwined with them; dancing along with mine, which smelled like the enticing scent of old, wrinkling books due to my love for reading. I love how your eyes are lighter in color, more radiant and distinct than anybody else's. I love that scar of yours placed just atop your crescent-shaped eyes. I love the way your crooked teeth is still perfectly misaligned; not too much and not too little. I love how your breath brushed against mine, smelling of nothing but you. I love how you make yourself be like you and you alone. And I know that art is never supposed to look beautiful, and that art is supposed to make you feel something, and that you are. It's not my choice to begin with, but I did. Loving you was beyond my control. Letting go isn't. To let go of someone is a choice you can make. You can't let skies, or stars, or moons, or signs to tell you when it has to happen. You either let go and free someone, or cling onto someone you know will eventually get hurt or hurt you. Letting go is something you can grasp onto with your fingertips and decide upon. It is the fact that you have to let a part of you stray away that makes it hard to do so, because loving you made me take a part of myself just so I could make you feel as if you were mine and I was yours. Because once a part of you is given to someone, you never truly get it back. It stays with them, long after you've both moved on and fell apart. It sticks with their souls, reminding them of what you two have had and have been. Once. I could've chosen to not let you go, but I did, because we never should've been together in the first place—*ironic how first place even appeared here, because we both knew I never was*—for a second. Letting go of you was my choice. It always has been to begin with.
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
The Art of Letting Go
Loving is inevitable. Yet somehow, people say that love is a choice. You can choose to love or not love somebody. I never wanted to, but I did. Loving you was not my choice— not mine to begin with. But I did. I love how your calloused fingers, all beaten up because of your love for paintbrushes and canvases, held mine tightly and intertwined with them; dancing along with mine, which smelled like the enticing scent of old, wrinkling books due to my love for reading. I love how your eyes are lighter in color, more radiant and distinct than anybody else's. I love that scar of yours placed just atop your crescent-shaped eyes. I love the way your crooked teeth is still perfectly misaligned; not too much and not too little. I love how your breath brushed against mine, smelling of nothing but you. I love how you make yourself be like you and you alone. And I know that art is never supposed to look beautiful, and that art is supposed to make you feel something, and that you are. It's not my choice to begin with, but I did. Loving you was beyond my control. Letting go isn't. To let go of someone is a choice you can make. You can't let skies, or stars, or moons, or signs to tell you when it has to happen. You either let go and free someone, or cling onto someone you know will eventually get hurt or hurt you. Letting go is something you can grasp onto with your fingertips and decide upon. It is the fact that you have to let a part of you stray away that makes it hard to do so, because loving you made me take a part of myself just so I could make you feel as if you were mine and I was yours. Because once a part of you is given to someone, you never truly get it back. It stays with them, long after you've both moved on and fell apart. It sticks with their souls, reminding them of what you two have had and have been. Once. I could've chosen to not let you go, but I did, because we never should've been together in the first place—*ironic how first place even appeared here, because we both knew I never was*—for a second. Letting go of you was my choice. It always has been to begin with.
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28
On a thin ribbon of light unfurled from unseen heaven direct to her parted robe and disquieted ear comes an angel’s voice, the dove’s winged companion, with words foretold in the book now slipping to the floor. What hunger fires our flickering imaginations, that require Grace come wrapped in velvet purses- with proof of the child’s purity dripping from tables and prophet encrusted walls? I think they had it all wrong- Fra Angelico, Veronese, van Ecyk, and even Martini with his gilded apprehension. I prefer a scene without unblemished lilies- no fine linens, puffing cherubs, or embroidered pillows on display. I picture her instead at her daily labor- pulling on a ***** rope at the village well. With calloused hands, she draws her trembling reflection skyward, when, announced by the slightest breeze, a stranger appears. Before their eyes meet, a bird’s flight distracts her- water splashes from the bucket washing the dust from her feet and soaking the tattered hem of her robe. His silent glance holds her only for a moment. In the distance, a voice calls out, “Daughter!” She turns, sets off, bowing to her burden. A cloud’s shadow melts in the heat of the road. Tom Spencer © 2018
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 8:30 AM UTC
Painting the Annunciation
There's a prophet on the railway He's coming with a book Written by a woman And blessed by a crook The station's been preparing For his arrival, coming soon He doesn't know a single person In the town under the moon His robes are made of velvet And his chains out of gold His eyes look about a hundred Yet he's only twenty-two years old His hands are un-calloused With pages stapled to his chest In his mind he believes That he alone knows best His name came from Berkley But he hails from the south His mother gave him nothing So he found his own way out In the dead of the night by his candlelight He heard a voice calling him It told to me ride north And let the people rejoice him On their Sunday feast he sets down his feet In a town of simple heads He gets on a podium And he lifts them from their beds He promises them redemption He promises them the end And with just a touch of his hand He promises they'll be heaven sent It's been six long years And his statue's turning green Just like his money Which lights his swisher sweets He knows his just a man Made of flesh and rotten skin He knows this and yet He's the one who wins
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Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
A Promise
I dropped by my favorite place today, released another exhausted breath. My pants were bulging out and the fat kept me stretched out. I hate that feeling. My stomach turned into billowy waves of expectant marks, pinning through my outer skin. I hate that feeling. When I sit, my thigh provokes every nerve in my body. If she has thoughts, she'll be a demon whispering through the wind. My unkempt hair is spinning around like gravity does not exist. Somehow, I failed to sigh out the black smoke forming all over my body. My skin, when pinched, is like soft straps that cannot be withdrawn from their owner. My skin is like the skin of my ancestor—it keeps stretching widely, tirelessly, and unprovoked. My heart is tightening its grasp on me. God, please help me! My eyes! I swallowed all my tears away, but my reflection still reflects the dark hue of the moon. When it is sad, the moon exposes his true nature, just like rolled down skins on my neck. My hands go from gently holding my heart out of my chest to weighing the weight of my body. If I let out my thick heart, my body would be lighter and my skin would be a plethora of scars and clay. If I abandon thee and such a calloused body, art will find me beautiful, and that is one of the moon's other sides. It's thick and uncooked. The heavens may not forsake an insecure moon, but a woman hates her reflection when the moonlight lights on her flesh. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." I called and they did not answer. I froze in my seat and waited until the sun bloomed and dried my tears. Yet I still could not breathe. I went into the sea and swam with the lonely whales. The sun reflected on the waters. I reached letter fourteen, but it was written by someone else. The ambience of the calm ocean washed over me. I released a breathy sigh, and the light went to take me.
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Feb 1, 2022
Feb 1, 2022 at 1:28 PM UTC
Letter Thirteen from Gaia's Journal
I dropped by my favorite place today, released another exhausted breath. My pants were bulging out and the fat kept me stretched out. I hate that feeling. My stomach turned into billowy waves of expectant marks, pinning through my outer skin. I hate that feeling. When I sit, my thigh provokes every nerve in my body. If she has thoughts, she'll be a demon whispering through the wind. My unkempt hair is spinning around like gravity does not exist. Somehow, I failed to sigh out the black smoke forming all over my body. My skin, when pinched, is like soft straps that cannot be withdrawn from their owner. My skin is like the skin of my ancestor—it keeps stretching widely, tirelessly, and unprovoked. My heart is tightening its grasp on me. God, please help me! My eyes! I swallowed all my tears away, but my reflection still reflects the dark hue of the moon. When it is sad, the moon exposes his true nature, just like rolled down skins on my neck. My hands go from gently holding my heart out of my chest to weighing the weight of my body. If I let out my thick heart, my body would be lighter and my skin would be a plethora of scars and clay. If I abandon thee and such a calloused body, art will find me beautiful, and that is one of the moon's other sides. It's thick and uncooked. The heavens may not forsake an insecure moon, but a woman hates her reflection when the moonlight lights on her flesh. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." I called and they did not answer. I froze in my seat and waited until the sun bloomed and dried my tears. Yet I still could not breathe. I went into the sea and swam with the lonely whales. The sun reflected on the waters. I reached letter fourteen, but it was written by someone else. The ambience of the calm ocean washed over me. I released a breathy sigh, and the light went to take me.
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1
A doer not a talker, A finder's keepers, not a stalker, first he is A Man, gentle in his MANnerisms, but not the knuckles or his calloused hands. He does not stand out in his field, he is too busy working to increase the yield, not make best use of fifteen minutes, OF Few men can this be said, his hat still fits his crew cut hairy head. when he opens his mouth to speak, his thoughts take shape and become Words, not charged with emotion, not angered or raging, not with some rite of self- righteous indignation. He speaks his peace, and sits his *** on the nearest thing he can find, he has a sound body and a sound mind, when she decides and marries him she will find, treasure. Rare.
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
A Man Of Few Words