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"canters" poems
People these days You don't know how to act You follow the trends And fill in things you lack You'll be their best friend But then stab them in the back In our black sentence and prescriptions You dance to your death Playing around with things Like acid and **** With your gay canters And chemical glee With your low crooked curtsies And your ignorant flee You'll Turn Out Like Me
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Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
You'll Be The Downfall Of Us All
Thought Broadcasting Silence is a silver ship Traveling at the speed of the darkness, Black holes are the edifices in which I Build my thoughts- Word by word, Each and every syllable forms upon my lips, And then broadcasted, aloud- Thoughts are killers- thoughts can harm- My thoughts can be heard from afar. Within this room I write my thoughts With a pen that is void of ink, or a pencil That has no lead, Invisible they are, but somehow, These thoughts are broadcasted aloud. Thoughts are killers thoughts control- My thoughts can be heard from afar. A silver ship with its sail to the wind, A wild horse that canters across vast terrain, or Pebbles that roll off of my fingertips, That splash into the creek, one by one, You can see, you can hear, as My thoughts, broadcasted aloud. My thoughts can be heard from afar. My thoughts are a flame that only I can quench. I am in control of what comes into my mind, As my hands build the world from The bricks of Time, My thoughts control the world. My thinking destroys those, whom I abhor, My thoughts control the downtrodden. Silence is a silver ship, or The dome beneath which I dwell- I build my edifice beneath this dome. No one dares to enter, as I have broadcasted a message to the world, My eyes order the world away; My thoughts are broadcasted aloud, A bad thought can destroy, as good ones Create and control, My thoughts control the world… Claudia Krizay
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Thought Broadcasting
Red-eyed and tied to a railway sleeper someone have mercy on her, Stop the train. I watch these silent movies which lack the pain of sound but ease the brain and she always escapes from the train, the hero, inevitably a man canters in and frees her from certain death. Breath fogs the lens with the cold mist of time, I forgot the lady chained to the line and tried to make Miss Pickford mine, she refused me I think, now I drink in these movies which move me to tears where did all those years go.
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Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
The crimson shrimp
I met her on the road Exhausted just like me. I asked her why she's walking She told me she is free. I told her I'm a pilgrim. She warned me, don't forget, You may be tired of walking, But your end is 'lejos' yet. I told her Santiago Was now my Xanadu. She laughed and said the Khan awaits. I laughed and said I knew. I've seen his horse on hills afar, He canters while I walk And Kublai champs his teeth and shouts His sword spits while we talk. He wears the forest as a cloak And chains the wind as breath. I see him chase me further on He tracks me to my death. I asked her where she's going. To Santiago too, But I don't seek the spires and peaks I'm hunting one like you. He's running as his boots get worn And I champ my teeth and shout. He's keeping eyes out to the hills While my sword point seeks him out. Her deep black eyes and strong disguise Bled from her and she stood. Kublai Khan afore me spoke. I ran but 'twas no good She spoke out strong and in a blur, 'You are not my prey. For many men along the road Flee demons every day.' And she roared and drew her breath, The wind took up her gait. She took the time to smile before Her horse flew fast and straight. I watched her go, still for so long, The road behind ignored. I heard the wind blow on before I turned and saw He roared. The hill was crowned with forest Drawn around his back. He spurred his horse on and the steed Cantered down the track. I turned and walked, slow and calm For I am used to demons. Though on the road I keep him towed. The Khan is still the freeman.
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
The Demon Khan
I met her on the road Exhausted just like me. I asked her why she's walking She told me she is free. I told her I'm a pilgrim. She warned me, don't forget, You may be tired of walking, But your end is 'lejos' yet. I told her Santiago Was now my Xanadu. She laughed and said the Khan awaits. I laughed and said I knew. I've seen his horse on hills afar, He canters while I walk And Kublai champs his teeth and shouts His sword spits while we talk. He wears the forest as a cloak And chains the wind as breath. I see him chase me further on He tracks me to my death. I asked her where she's going. To Santiago too, But I don't seek the spires and peaks I'm hunting one like you. He's running as his boots get worn And I champ my teeth and shout. He's keeping eyes out to the hills While my sword point seeks him out. Her deep black eyes and strong disguise Bled from her and she stood. Kublai Khan afore me spoke. I ran but 'twas no good She spoke out strong and in a blur, 'You are not my prey. For many men along the road Flee demons every day.' And she roared and drew her breath, The wind took up her gait. She took the time to smile before Her horse flew fast and straight. I watched her go, still for so long, The road behind ignored. I heard the wind blow on before I turned and saw He roared. The hill was crowned with forest Drawn around his back. He spurred his horse on and the steed Cantered down the track. I turned and walked, slow and calm For I am used to demons. Though on the road I keep him towed. The Khan is still the freeman.
Continue reading...
52
There is much music in language Words resonate, full like a gong Meaning canters like a runaway train And cadences lilt like calypso song When poets open their minds to heaven It pours its musings down from the rift When their ears have heard the musical word Their sombre souls uplift
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Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
The Music Of Language
*Winter canters  from a distance, irresistible she is,                                     I'd roll in my tranquil bed with her,               then, her embraces would  become an intoxicant,                     making me dive in to the lake  of stupor she creates                                               for me to swim with her.*
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Winter makes me hers
drift lemons on a beach of canters for amber hyacinths
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Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 5:48 AM UTC
Golden Age
She burns and drinks it in She soaks up the sun with her skin It kisses her hair Changes her colors Keeps her warm Engulfed in a blanket of comfort She closes her eyes She is a goddess A sunrise Misunderstood Soft Spoken A wild girl on the run She flees through the forest With the heart of a lioness She has a temptation for danger An ache to fly away Taste for a poisonous thrill   The speed quickens everyday Soon she'll lift up to the sky She'll soar high with eager hungry eyes Her heartbeat canters She's certain of what she wants But she must put on armor A goddess must always guard her heart Her heart is what carries her soul And her soul carries his wings She is the daughter of Icarus Lover of Apollo She'll take flight to the sun When the cold comes she'll die What is done must be done No one dares to watch her fly For she might find Elysium Yet a goddess knows her place in the sky She'll never be a victim of her father's lie.
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
Daughter of Icarus
hurtful words and sarcasm are given freely to facebook and twitter an attempt to combat lunacy becoming the purveyor of crazy in a land of madmen my crown cuts deeper than any ole thorn – self-righteousness oozing from open sores and oil clogged pores tis a snore for the ****** they gather in droves, old hoe’s lost in blow both ******* and **** ******* I watch sickened, unable to curb my stare – wave after wave of useless children forgotten by the culture that forced their births adorn sidewalks greedily holding out ***** fingers begging for patriotic flavored candy brightly packaged hiding the poisons brilliantly – the brain dead society at large shuffles worn shoes across roadways littered with magazine advertisements and perfume samples blind to their arrogance building new homes on yesterday’s landfills tearing down school houses of the past for robotic manufacturing canters ….. I’ll not be riding the eternal hamster wheel without a fight –
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
vainly fighting against perceived insanity
Tell me Love, wouldn't it be great, If there were no pain to speak of, no bitterness, no hate, Only love suffice to ignite A poet's heart to soar, take flight To dream of wonderful and beautiful things, Take flight wrapped up in angels wings, To laugh your heart out and dance in the rain, To sing away sorrows and forget all your pain, To live, love and laugh and of sorrows forget, For life's too short to fill with regret, No despair to berate, only Love and delight, That adds colour and sparks to the slow creeping, night, No need to shoot, to punch, to take aim, To throw words like poison in to each others brains, Each accusation canters like a runaway train, Each one of them is my disdain, o love, tell me, wouldn't it be divine, If you could see truth in my own heart like in thine, No cynical riposte which ties me up in brine, but to the path of righteousness each word align, i believe in a god who looks down from above, who wraps all his children in laughter and love, i've seen him with my own very eyes, Soaring and sauntering through majestic skies, he is most caring and he is most kind, who plants the healing flower in everyone's minds, he is the one who will shoulder our pain, wherever we find dismay and disdain, raising his voice above the evil throng, so all on the earth can dance to his song, when we are down he will send his affection, and make sure it's received in our direction. xo
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Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 3:04 AM UTC
A Peace Offering
Colors and Cravings Cover ups and Canters Con men and Crazy minds Convenient and Casual A breaking world
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Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
C
Irony is not believing your mirror or alternatively sensibility at its finest (not my line but I will add it – it fits) bald head, wrinkles, skeptical eyes are just the outside. quietly, privily, absolutely the inner me still canters along well, not canter really, just a steady trot with frequent pauses for let’s call it reflection. trouble is, as some of us know and ruefully acknowledge, time speeds up, birthdays come so quickly now last year’s card is still on the shelf and the envelope too If someone makes a time machine I will volunteer to see if it works
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
It seems like yesterday
Tell me Love, wouldn't it be great, If there were no pain to speak of, no bitterness, no hate, Only love suffice to ignite, A poet's heart to soar, take flight. To dream of wonderful and beautiful things, Take flight wrapped up in angels wings. To laugh your heart out and dance in the rain, To sing away sorrows and forget all your pain. To live, love and laugh and of sorrows forget, For life's too short to fill with regret. No despair to berate, only Love and delight, That adds colour and sparks to the slow creeping, night. No need to shoot, to punch, to take aim, To throw words like poison in to each others brains. Each accusation canters like a runaway train, Each one of them is my disdain. O love, tell me, wouldn't it be divine, If you could see truth in my own heart like in thine. No cynical riposte which ties me up in brine, But to the path of righteousness each word align. I believe in a god who looks down from above, who wraps all his children in laughter and love. I've seen him with my own very eyes, Soaring and sauntering through majestic skies. He is most caring and he is most kind, Who plants the healing flower in everyone's minds. He is the one who will shoulder our pain, Wherever we find dismay and disdain. Raising his voice above the evil throng, So all on the earth can dance to his song. When we are down he will send his affection, and make sure it's received in our direction.
0
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 8:53 PM UTC
Love
Moments undulate stamping this hue Syncopated with rushes rolling My step canters in giddy impromptu ‘Cause the bloom in my arm’s unfolding Notice too much more and I’ll be Much exposed, transparent at last I turn to catch a breath from what I see Belief escapes quickly from my grasp But remembrance wakes my mind Through the swell of violins That you are for “the one” of mankind Decided there before life could begin Maybe’s, yes’s, no’s, I stopped caring My heart speaks softly, lowly, singing “You are the one, that I’ve longed for You are the one, my love is yours”
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Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 4:42 AM UTC
Silent Song