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"canvassing" poems
Bundled up in my big blue blanket, Holding my heavenly hot cocoa, Simmering as I'm sipping, Nibbling on my noodles, I gaze out the window, Rain, rain, rain, Grey clouds canvassing the sky, Water falling creating rivers in the street, The only thing I vow to accomplish today at all Is finish season seven of Supernatural.
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
Rain,Rain,Rain
We were equally matched Until a plan was hatched You became the subtle aggressor By making appearances lesser Using your passion aggression To steer a passive direction You perform a vanishing act By canvassing flak Balancing black Against a sky so blue Teaching me that which is true Is different from what I knew So my anxiety naturally grew You launch a resistance By remaining silent On this plane of existence Where you're the pilot Not taking the right angle Into the Bermuda Triangle That is your social sphere Where you disappear From committal fear Of love being near So I throw a search party But your presence is tardy Because you're departing On the journey you're starting Without me Slouching From my submission To your anti-admission Splitting our position Like nuclear fission The air has become radioactive Through light that is refractive Through ways which are retractive Living this ugly way to live Sharpening my shiv To escape this cell of decay Where flowers bloom and fray But can't see the light of day Not one ray Stuck in the marked moor Of this dark war I use parkour To avoid aggressor attacks Never cutting me any slack Bringing pain back Until I crack Lost in your blank expression I make a grave concession Enslaved to your impression Yet afraid of your aggression Caught between Taking heed And fulfilling needs Born from greed I'll only impede You scream aggressively Like you're ********** me Just by addressing me After making a mess of me With deafening quiet You attack with a diet Of a steady riot And I won't buy it You left when you were here But stayed once you weren't near You switched to a guillotine gear Based on how you wanted to appear Striking me from the equation By utilizing deflation For a sinister elation You removed our relation
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
Passive Aggressive
We were equally matched Until a plan was hatched You became the subtle aggressor By making appearances lesser Using your passion aggression To steer a passive direction You perform a vanishing act By canvassing flak Balancing black Against a sky so blue Teaching me that which is true Is different from what I knew So my anxiety naturally grew You launch a resistance By remaining silent On this plane of existence Where you're the pilot Not taking the right angle Into the Bermuda Triangle That is your social sphere Where you disappear From committal fear Of love being near So I throw a search party But your presence is tardy Because you're departing On the journey you're starting Without me Slouching From my submission To your anti-admission Splitting our position Like nuclear fission The air has become radioactive Through light that is refractive Through ways which are retractive Living this ugly way to live Sharpening my shiv To escape this cell of decay Where flowers bloom and fray But can't see the light of day Not one ray Stuck in the marked moor Of this dark war I use parkour To avoid aggressor attacks Never cutting me any slack Bringing pain back Until I crack Lost in your blank expression I make a grave concession Enslaved to your impression Yet afraid of your aggression Caught between Taking heed And fulfilling needs Born from greed I'll only impede You scream aggressively Like you're ********** me Just by addressing me After making a mess of me With deafening quiet You attack with a diet Of a steady riot And I won't buy it You left when you were here But stayed once you weren't near You switched to a guillotine gear Based on how you wanted to appear Striking me from the equation By utilizing deflation For a sinister elation You removed our relation
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74
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart. a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission. he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking. his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back. any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled. he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts. his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
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Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
the current state of handwriting in Baltimore, OH
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart. a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission. he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking. his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back. any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled. he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts. his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
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7
You create art Using the sharp edge Of a multi-hued blade. The blade And your eye Slide down the canvass Canvassing for something I don’t know what. Something only you can see I’m fascinated And, Truth be told, Not a little envious. I want to see What you see. Know what it is like To see the void And the darkness To pierce them with color And to sit back Look at your creation And see It is good.
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May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
I watch
in a once quiet thought my lips trembled, tongue frozen still; along the lined horizon I glanced, missing the beauty, I have seen the emptiness; silently they whisper, deception their embedded kiss, sitting, I waited while they walked; bleak winters I have known; your essence, filled my palms; spilling onto the canvassing world, you drew me a picture; untainted reality, taught my finger tips to sway, from left to right, my curiosity now eclipsed by this, gift; showed my hand to paint, with such precautions, being g very careful to color outside the lines of ******* clothed my nakedness, the warmth of your radiances, burned my voice into solid letters, molding them into words, you gave them their voice; like glowing embers; thank you...
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Radiant Ink
It was a cloudy sky Drizzle had just stopped softly On this enchanting evening, I was lined lucky As there was an ugly beggar who deserved care, swiftly I stopped my car before that hotel where sometime I used to visit for coffee during my return from office, to home to dwell Being pose area, side of it were shops selling toffee I gone straight to that beggar Enquired what he may desire to eat He was holding one bit of an used cigar Face to face, he was not willing to meet I used to treat deserving beggar with food of his choice Someone will ask for a particular dish But this man didn't even raised his voice Repeatedly I failed when I tried to ascertain his wish Finally the shopkeeper guided and coded saying he wanted only a matchbox to light his cigar When I tried hard to get, every shopkeeper just eluded As the increased anti-tobacco canvassing had worked clear The beggar rejected money as well any dish His world gets filled with just a matchbox He stood firm and let me only to pish As I too never keep such item in my toolbox He loitered and left the place, helpless Upset with this, I too lost my interest to eat I also left without eating, as I became useless Even in bed, with this thought, I felt my heartbeat I get delighted to treat deserving beggars, stomachful Or else with alms, to their handful But above failure led me sorrowful As I could not be fairly useful It is the beggar who gives me a chance to serve Of course, I had heartfully attempted and offered Altogether, I sincerely strained everyone of my nerve But he neither cared my efforts nor allowed to be adored This miserable failure mows me miserably for the past two years More so, whenever I used to cross that place every day True to say, my eyes were about to cloud with tears! What woes remain more for my heart to say? Copyrights reserved
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Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
I OFFERED BUT HE NEVER ADORED!
It was a cloudy sky Drizzle had just stopped softly On this enchanting evening, I was lined lucky As there was an ugly beggar who deserved care, swiftly I stopped my car before that hotel where sometime I used to visit for coffee during my return from office, to home to dwell Being pose area, side of it were shops selling toffee I gone straight to that beggar Enquired what he may desire to eat He was holding one bit of an used cigar Face to face, he was not willing to meet I used to treat deserving beggar with food of his choice Someone will ask for a particular dish But this man didn't even raised his voice Repeatedly I failed when I tried to ascertain his wish Finally the shopkeeper guided and coded saying he wanted only a matchbox to light his cigar When I tried hard to get, every shopkeeper just eluded As the increased anti-tobacco canvassing had worked clear The beggar rejected money as well any dish His world gets filled with just a matchbox He stood firm and let me only to pish As I too never keep such item in my toolbox He loitered and left the place, helpless Upset with this, I too lost my interest to eat I also left without eating, as I became useless Even in bed, with this thought, I felt my heartbeat I get delighted to treat deserving beggars, stomachful Or else with alms, to their handful But above failure led me sorrowful As I could not be fairly useful It is the beggar who gives me a chance to serve Of course, I had heartfully attempted and offered Altogether, I sincerely strained everyone of my nerve But he neither cared my efforts nor allowed to be adored This miserable failure mows me miserably for the past two years More so, whenever I used to cross that place every day True to say, my eyes were about to cloud with tears! What woes remain more for my heart to say? Copyrights reserved
Continue reading...
41
Born with tragedy in his veins Set his heart into flames Ashes are all that remain Hollow on the inside But warm to the touch Seeking a heart to devour Through the world he scoured Echos call to me Distant voices longing To fall on open ears Traveling for miles Traveling for years Over land, over seas Love is a yearning beast Searching in chasms Looking through bars Running through deserts Canvassing the stars Chasing the moonlight under my feet Following the rumble Moving toward the beat Of every heart in every chest I am in a state of unrest Moving toward the beat Faster and faster go my feet Love has turned me into a beast
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Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC
Beast
The smell of terpentine permeates my favourite blouse The glow of candle light flickers in my windows The absent minded stains of ink splattered through out my house The cool, soft clay feels like silk between my fingers There is a chisel hanging from a nail in my wall There is blueprint spread out on a table in  front of me My eyes are canvassing everything, anything, all There is a colour and flavour in everything I see There is a word tattooed on my forehead, innovator I can't help but find a way to reinvent the old and invent the new What more beautiful a worship to offer the creator Than to create with the gifts he has given you
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Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Creative
Robins spike the lawns, Pulling from moist earth, Bobbing and rigging oil Skinned worms topside And butterflies hovering, Round eddies over flowers On a windless day, sailing In search of colourful spots On which to land, sparrows Are nesting above the fray, Winging with fresh supplies Building bases about twigs, Tufts and twine, canvassing The nailed on house shelters Left for them, finches, yellow Headed come in, cheerfully Raiding the red apple buds Before trees are even laden And flowers are out in force As the rapacious humming Birds thrusting their rapiers, Lash all the hearts blooming.
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
In Garden Arms
. Robins spike the lawns, Pulling from moist earth, Bobbing and rigging oil Skinned worms topside And butterflies hovering, Round eddies over flowers On a windless day, sailing In search of colourful spots On which to land, sparrows Are nesting above the fray, Winging with fresh supplies Building bases about twigs, Tufts and twine, canvassing The nailed on house shelters Left for them, finches, yellow Headed come in, cheerfully Raiding the red apple buds Before trees are even laden And flowers are out in force As the rapacious humming Birds thrusting their rapiers, Lash all the hearts blooming.
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Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
In Garden Arms
Robins spike morning lawns, Pulling from the moist earth, Bobbing and rigging new oil Skinned worms took topside And butterflies dart hovering, Swirling eddies over flowers On this windless day, sailing In search of colourful spots On which to land, sparrows Are nesting above the frays, Winging with fresh supplies Building bases about twigs, Tufts and twine, canvassing The nailed on house shelters Left for them, finches, yellow Headed come in, cheerfully Raiding the red apple buds Before trees are even laden And flowers are out in force As the rapacious humming Birds thrusting their rapiers, Lash all the hearts blooming.
0
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
In Garden Fields
Robins spike morning lawns, Pulling from the moist earth, Bobbing and rigging new oil Skinned worms took topside And butterflies dart hovering, Swirling eddies over flowers On this windless day, sailing In search of colourful spots On which to land, sparrows Are nesting above the frays, Winging with fresh supplies Building bases about twigs, Tufts and twine, canvassing The nailed on house shelters Left for them, finches, yellow Headed come in, cheerfully Raiding the red apple buds Before trees are even laden And flowers are out in force As the rapacious humming Birds thrusting their rapiers, Lash all the hearts blooming.
0
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
In Garden Fields
. Robins spike morning lawns, Pulling from the moist earth, Bobbing and rigging new oil Skinned worms took topside And butterflies dart hovering, Swirling eddies over flowers On this windless day, sailing In search of colourful spots On which to land, sparrows Are nesting above the frays, Winging with fresh supplies Building bases about twigs, Tufts and twine, canvassing The nailed on house shelters Left for them, finches, yellow Headed come in, cheerfully Raiding the red apple buds Before trees are even laden And flowers are out in force As the rapacious humming Birds thrusting their rapiers, Lash all the hearts blooming.
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
In Garden Fields
reality collapses into a paragon of nothing forming memory of boundaries like detonating corridors about primate organization chemical interventions and political furors the mind of earth forces a mashup of alternating currents as the higher sends the temporal for excursions into whatever the **** like a dog on a leash in another clinical metaphysics workshop for karma farmers we lick hell's *** in a greasy crowd with jaundice   for our own god **** good i cross dimensions like an alchie with the shakes where one reality collapses into another making me ****** again in a transfiguration of canvassing beauty towards deportment for a slow withering like the astonished refugee when shipped to a clumsy place for shattered senses with every crown the gift of life comes the guillotine
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Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 1:00 PM UTC
Paragon of Nothing
There is a thing called the in-between. It seeps into crevices; canvassing the heart into colour. Too small to be recognised by all; but those who seek it; develop an awareness; of its internal framework. Malleable and hybrid; simply sailing between the real; waiting to be invited. Below the surface of the mind; it calms the stormy seas; resuscitating the imagination.
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Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
Below the surface
It is this world that makes me weep Broken bodies and burnt babies Exist in fiery moments Then digital references Etched in the bloodiest corners Of humanity’s mind And I find that I am to weak Too tired to speak To many thoughts to think Ideas on how to link That which is already connected These invisible strings How you forget them Denying that we are part of a collective Violence is a ****** wound I stick my finger in Pulling out viscera And making paint brushes Canvassing all the horrors So you can see the sick splatter art So you can feel what it is like When warm becomes cold When soldiers do what they are told Without questioning Playing With the video game Bomb dropping Remote control plane I cry A less tempered metal Melted flesh That matches this madness Holding your hand And hoping Something of me Infects the essence of you With love, peace, hope, And understanding
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
Untitled
Oh euphoria, What’s the story I am cold, tender, and thin Oh euphoria, I have my drug use I am over you You master of falsehoods A drapery of tone and foolishness Canvassing curious threads To their ends Plucking the ones Spun to my brain And leaving those That weave me into disillusion Finding the phrases in elemental codes Oh euphoria, I will starve you in cafe corners Stirring your coffee The heat licks your chin Reminds you why you came And why it’s worth abandoning
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
Oh Euphoria