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"catastrophe" poems
i am me you are you let me be you have no clue stop talking like you understand i'm tired of swimming toward your dreams i can hear my heart stop beating drowning in my own feelings a shattered mind lost in sand catastrophe appears on my screens but i'm no God no one in particular the most ordinary thing full of aspirations imaginations and colors i'm not going back to the corner i'm gonna run farther i'm gonna make it better the fire ignites the ocean send its waves raw emotion spilled into motion it's not broken it's golden why should i listen to others when i own the colors it's not only a caption it's satisfaction all the beautiful colors took a long time to show i do not fear it i do not hate it i'm proud i'm shining colors you can never see
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Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
colors
Donald Trump what a Chump The name makes my blood Boil His views remind me of Those poor Jews when ****** Caused such Immortal coil Trump claims to be against Extremism yet it Leaks through his core all the Way to his Brittle bones Brainwashing vulnerable; Led to his Blood stained Throne No blood shed yet; He speaks Hell don't be so naive Trump contemplated by So many minds in this Day and age shouldn't be Building walls make them tall Then what Is this the way? Segregation, Racism Shuts his eyes, Cover's ears He'll not hear what we say It's Devastating such Man claims chance to taint our Minds with his Bitter taste A Catastrophe, Shows no Diplomacy With 'Morals' formed into Very Strange Scary shapes Yes, I agree Something Needs to change but Believe Me 'Trump' is not that Thing Sheds empty promises Causing controversy With 'Peace' as the end goal Trumps No way to begin His Immaturity Is so apparent that He will ruin the world As we know it today I think Trump needs some help Some Mental help to drive All those Devils living Within him Far away! © Karen L Hamilton, January 2016
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
The Flump Trump
I catch you sitting at the diner counter again at 2am, the fourth day in a row. The waitress comes over and hands you a black coffee. I stare, but you don’t turn around and catch me looking. You’re glaring into the mug, like somehow you’ll drown in the warm murky mix. Like somehow if you keep looking your problems will dissipate into the rising steam. Like somehow it’s the answer you’ve been searching for since you were born. You wanted an answer. Something that would make everything come full circle. It’s been years of you driving down an endless highway, passing every exit because you don’t know how to stay in one place. Even ghost towns won’t harbor something so deeply damaged. A person who can only pull the emergency break when they’re afraid they might crash. Crash into what? Not everything walking by you is a catastrophe.  Accidents only occur when you forget to pay attention. Just like how you forgot that your side door mirrors were broken. Those objects are not closer than they appear. You tried to slow down but they only seemed further away. Everything you’re trying to hold on to is slipping through your hands the way sand falls through the hourglass. Tick tock. Did you forget that people need affection if you want them to stay? They are not dolls you can glass-case until you feel like playing with them again. Not everybody enjoys being a toy. How long has it been since someone sat in the passenger seat? The car rides must be lonely when there’s no one around to fill the silence. You can blast the radio as loud as you want to but that won’t block out the hollow feeling in your chest. The one that sits where your heart is supposed to be. Something that music can’t fill. Your mother once told you that history repeats itself but did she mention that only happens when you refuse to change the scenery? If you always stay on the same road you’re never going to snap out of it. Break the curse. Realize that love is sitting at the base of every exit if you weren’t so scared of swerving into oncoming traffic. The only head-on collision that’s going to happen is when you grow too tired of driving alone that you forget to keep your eyes on the road. When you realize you placed yourself in your own hell and your breaks finally give out. When you fall asleep at the wheel and never wake up because you were terrified of letting somebody else steer.
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
Car Accident
I catch you sitting at the diner counter again at 2am, the fourth day in a row. The waitress comes over and hands you a black coffee. I stare, but you don’t turn around and catch me looking. You’re glaring into the mug, like somehow you’ll drown in the warm murky mix. Like somehow if you keep looking your problems will dissipate into the rising steam. Like somehow it’s the answer you’ve been searching for since you were born. You wanted an answer. Something that would make everything come full circle. It’s been years of you driving down an endless highway, passing every exit because you don’t know how to stay in one place. Even ghost towns won’t harbor something so deeply damaged. A person who can only pull the emergency break when they’re afraid they might crash. Crash into what? Not everything walking by you is a catastrophe.  Accidents only occur when you forget to pay attention. Just like how you forgot that your side door mirrors were broken. Those objects are not closer than they appear. You tried to slow down but they only seemed further away. Everything you’re trying to hold on to is slipping through your hands the way sand falls through the hourglass. Tick tock. Did you forget that people need affection if you want them to stay? They are not dolls you can glass-case until you feel like playing with them again. Not everybody enjoys being a toy. How long has it been since someone sat in the passenger seat? The car rides must be lonely when there’s no one around to fill the silence. You can blast the radio as loud as you want to but that won’t block out the hollow feeling in your chest. The one that sits where your heart is supposed to be. Something that music can’t fill. Your mother once told you that history repeats itself but did she mention that only happens when you refuse to change the scenery? If you always stay on the same road you’re never going to snap out of it. Break the curse. Realize that love is sitting at the base of every exit if you weren’t so scared of swerving into oncoming traffic. The only head-on collision that’s going to happen is when you grow too tired of driving alone that you forget to keep your eyes on the road. When you realize you placed yourself in your own hell and your breaks finally give out. When you fall asleep at the wheel and never wake up because you were terrified of letting somebody else steer.
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1
if the ocean would carry me it'll collapse under the weight of my bones made with cement and steel and the burden each brick owns witness the waves howler and scream just like the heart caged in my chest blood bubbling around the muscle surging with every beat and protest the bottom of the sea may be quiet like my tongue folded neatly in my mouth though feral beasts deep within choke with pressure more than i can count the ocean and i are seperate both flowers from different gardens one ephemeral, one wilting before your eyes but both's head tilting up to the heavens sorrowful eyes, swirling, storm awakening chaos mingling betwixt water and blood ravid souls in dire need of feeding cursed and blessed by god i wonder if i could carry the ocean within just the corners of my palm i and the ocean - we are one a catastrophe after the calm
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Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 10:22 AM UTC
i and the ocean
would you listen or laugh at me            for claiming love's an ocean? neither a knife, nor a blindfold                                                       ...but a sea. there's a human-borne catastrophe.                        cast your eye upon those with no share.           the contents of their buckets are polluted and impure yet all but 5% goes unexplored. do you find yourself choking in your sleep?   why watch the waves from safe dry ground                                                   when you could delve in deep? do you live in fear of unchartered seas                                                    and life still left unfound? are you overheating if only not to drown? we 'love addicts' are water children. i run outside and taste the rain.   let's go! let's drink! let's swim! let's bathe                    and watch it seep into our pores                          -- it escapes me how you stay indoors!
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May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
waist-deep
The deafening house music The crowd of colorful suits and gowns And the shifting colorful lights Trapped me in the ballroom The tasty sophisticated food The elegant decorations And the freaking mandatory cotillion Didn't stop me from ******** up I should've been more social I should've treated my date better And I should've enjoyed the evening But my fear and doubt won over me
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 7:47 AM UTC
Prom: The Tragic Catastrophe
It's so much easier to make the same mistakes to wage a war upon myself It's so much simpler to smile in your face to wish that I were someone else I'm so **** hurtful but only to my own skin I'm worth so much more but I'll still draw blood again And when will I let myself go                                                                         And when will I push far                                                                                 And when will It be to late                                                                               And when will I stop opening the same scars                                               It's barely past midnight Red is all I see A innocent boy who's shattered A beautiful catastrophe But who will help him now Cause he's still making the same mistakes But who will fight for his life When he feels he's nothing but a waste And when does this war end                                                                           Cause I still crave razors against my skin                                                      When I look into the mirror                                                                             It's still a reflection I can't withstand                                                               Back at war again Under your sleeve is the battlefield A million casualties Tallied are battles that have healed Be a warrior Scar tissue is tougher than regular skin Be a warrior Find your strength from within
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Warrior
It's so much easier to make the same mistakes to wage a war upon myself It's so much simpler to smile in your face to wish that I were someone else I'm so **** hurtful but only to my own skin I'm worth so much more but I'll still draw blood again And when will I let myself go                                                                         And when will I push far                                                                                 And when will It be to late                                                                               And when will I stop opening the same scars                                               It's barely past midnight Red is all I see A innocent boy who's shattered A beautiful catastrophe But who will help him now Cause he's still making the same mistakes But who will fight for his life When he feels he's nothing but a waste And when does this war end                                                                           Cause I still crave razors against my skin                                                      When I look into the mirror                                                                             It's still a reflection I can't withstand                                                               Back at war again Under your sleeve is the battlefield A million casualties Tallied are battles that have healed Be a warrior Scar tissue is tougher than regular skin Be a warrior Find your strength from within
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32
O' how they rise above each other, the descendants of Babel! Rebels to forefathers. All as righteous as they seem – to the law, but not to reality Towers Among Towers! unreachable by mere ones mocking the lowlands with their heights   Even dreams could not fathom! And oh, how Towers fall too, at the top of their limit. Catastrophe! Phenomena! their power too is frail because there is always One that stands taller than any other could avail.
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Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
Towers Among Towers
To be a mother is not an easy task, yet you do it proudly everyday no matter what is asked. You have turned your baby into a beautiful young lady. You were there for me since the very beginning and saved me countless tears. The pushy and wise advice you gave will carry me through the years. With my every mistake or wrongful deed, you were always there to understand. You put no limits on my dreams or anything else I wish to do. You never forget to say you care or that you love me too. The smile and tears upon your face when I achieve provides me with more value in my heart then you’d ever believe. There is no other person that will shape my heart the way you’ve done, your job finished perfectly for your precious daughters and son. We have had a rocky road through triumph and catastrophe, hard time and despair, but not a single moment of time of not having a wonderful mother there. You have always put in your last with love and my whole life is not enough time for me to repay you. We always put our disagreements to the side and manage to make it through. I know that my teen years have driven you crazy but you have guided me with assurance along the way. You have given me comfort and certainty with every breath I take within the day. Your little girl is growing up but your baby girl will always remain deep inside me. There are not enough words that can thank you for everything you have helped me through emotionally and physically. I have my whole future ahead of me and you are the women that has lead me and guided me towards the proper path. Thank you for being not only my mom, but my best friend.
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Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
A poem for the most important person in my life; My Mom
To be a mother is not an easy task, yet you do it proudly everyday no matter what is asked. You have turned your baby into a beautiful young lady. You were there for me since the very beginning and saved me countless tears. The pushy and wise advice you gave will carry me through the years. With my every mistake or wrongful deed, you were always there to understand. You put no limits on my dreams or anything else I wish to do. You never forget to say you care or that you love me too. The smile and tears upon your face when I achieve provides me with more value in my heart then you’d ever believe. There is no other person that will shape my heart the way you’ve done, your job finished perfectly for your precious daughters and son. We have had a rocky road through triumph and catastrophe, hard time and despair, but not a single moment of time of not having a wonderful mother there. You have always put in your last with love and my whole life is not enough time for me to repay you. We always put our disagreements to the side and manage to make it through. I know that my teen years have driven you crazy but you have guided me with assurance along the way. You have given me comfort and certainty with every breath I take within the day. Your little girl is growing up but your baby girl will always remain deep inside me. There are not enough words that can thank you for everything you have helped me through emotionally and physically. I have my whole future ahead of me and you are the women that has lead me and guided me towards the proper path. Thank you for being not only my mom, but my best friend.
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23
*pain knocks on weathered doors fastened ever tightly cryptic access is denied it camouflages in the shadows stealthily it watches hypervigilance enhancing catastrophe awaiting it strikes in latent graveyards the gale begins to form and unleashes its fierce torrent the latch shattered and torn there’s now an open entrance creeping in it slithers engulfing to encompass digging up emotions buried underground there hovering and foggy tho’ murky does not smother but fleshes out the psyche entombed and cobweb covered it crawls along the edges and peers in secret ledges seeps into sequesters like dust settled in feathers it slides through every feeling and when it’s at its blackest it carves the darkness out and let’s in sunlight’s presence © 2016janetaylor
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
hidden places
Millennial Millennial Millennial Some idiot coined that for those of us that weren’t born yet What happened? To the baby boomers Groovy hippies Manson getting married, what about me? Generation X Generation Hipster Assassin **** yourself Nobody said that I was a millennial until I read it from the internet Something that should be shot dead like those on TV “Everything was better when we were young” No it wasn’t It wasn’t me it wasn’t me I didn’t mean to die because you hated me for what I was Are you still racist? Prejudiced in America? Millennial Millennial Millennial Narcissistic who are you calling self-obsessed when you were always dangerous we didn’t want to live from the womb which was like our tomb Catastrophe Legacy ( I spat out some computer wires today and I’m not going to apologize for it as I’m a millennial, we got to call Frank Black tonight) Millennial Millennial Millennial Millennial I’m in over my head We speak in acronyms and random slang She had a baby and the baby’s going to be apart of the next and final generation We’ll be dead we’ll be dead we’ll be dead Millennial Millennial Millennial Millennial
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Millennial
Seasons come and go, Each year it's the same. If only people changed like the seasons. Winter, Summer, Autumn, Spring; Each one holds a secret, It's own special magic. Winter holds a promise that there is Life after Death. Spring ignites a spark; a sliver of Hope and a pinch of Joy for healing. Autumn holds the key to Eternity, And Summer is the Epicenter of The Magic. Summer is the result; the After-life; It is Rebirth. Seasons change, and people do too, But it's a pity - a shame - that people Don't change the same way. People are too unpredictable; we change Our minds too many times, we change Our Destinies every day. Seasons don't. Seasons accept their constant cycle; Their Natural Pattern. People will never be like the Seasons. I guess that's what makes us all Unique. In this way We are Designed - Crafted, Molded. Seasons harbour a Secret; It's own special Magic. We too, are our own special Magic. Winter promises Life after Death, People are promised Happiness after Depression. Spring ignites a spark of Joy for Healing, People are promised Joy and Healing after Pain And Suffering. Autumn holds the key to Eternity, People are promised Eternity in the Promised Land. Summer is the Epicenter; the After-life, And people are the Epicenters of their own lives. We are our own Masters of Catastrophe. People are Reborn in Faith. Looking at it now, maybe we are much like The Seasons. We are predictable in our unpredictability. This is our prized Possession. This is our kind of Magic. People have seasons, people are seasons. Winter is our Darker side, Spring is our Healing, Summer, our Euphorical - blissful side, Autumn, our Procrastination, our Changing, Our Learning. Just like the Seasons, we change; We mold our Futures and become who we are meant To be; We become part of a Cycle.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC
Seasons
Seasons come and go, Each year it's the same. If only people changed like the seasons. Winter, Summer, Autumn, Spring; Each one holds a secret, It's own special magic. Winter holds a promise that there is Life after Death. Spring ignites a spark; a sliver of Hope and a pinch of Joy for healing. Autumn holds the key to Eternity, And Summer is the Epicenter of The Magic. Summer is the result; the After-life; It is Rebirth. Seasons change, and people do too, But it's a pity - a shame - that people Don't change the same way. People are too unpredictable; we change Our minds too many times, we change Our Destinies every day. Seasons don't. Seasons accept their constant cycle; Their Natural Pattern. People will never be like the Seasons. I guess that's what makes us all Unique. In this way We are Designed - Crafted, Molded. Seasons harbour a Secret; It's own special Magic. We too, are our own special Magic. Winter promises Life after Death, People are promised Happiness after Depression. Spring ignites a spark of Joy for Healing, People are promised Joy and Healing after Pain And Suffering. Autumn holds the key to Eternity, People are promised Eternity in the Promised Land. Summer is the Epicenter; the After-life, And people are the Epicenters of their own lives. We are our own Masters of Catastrophe. People are Reborn in Faith. Looking at it now, maybe we are much like The Seasons. We are predictable in our unpredictability. This is our prized Possession. This is our kind of Magic. People have seasons, people are seasons. Winter is our Darker side, Spring is our Healing, Summer, our Euphorical - blissful side, Autumn, our Procrastination, our Changing, Our Learning. Just like the Seasons, we change; We mold our Futures and become who we are meant To be; We become part of a Cycle.
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60
Our home has an uneven foundation The walls are crumbling and the support beams are rotting And tonight, the roof finally caved in. As my lungs filled with sawdust I covered my ears I covered my eyes and hid from my fears I didn’t wanna hear the screams or the tears, I couldn’t bare to hear promises of suicide And claims of pure hatred with a dash of cyanide I couldn’t bare to see my home topple over And I couldn’t bring myself to look at their hands bunched up into fists They screamed until they couldn’t make a sound and I couldn’t deal I couldn’t witness such a catastrophe without being scarred so I ran and I hid I hid from their words and I hid from their lies I hid until the worst of it was over And then all was quiet. When I opened my eyes, the walls were intact The beams were solid, the floor was leveled And everyone was smiling. Their teeth were black with ash and soot But they smiled wide, grinning ear to ear And their voices were calm, the yelling had ceased I uncovered my ears. And though their mouths told one story Their eyes told another They were red and puffy, and I could see the pain that the damage caused But they smiled on anyway As did I.
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Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
collapse
Last night, I was exploring sensuality ********* an inkling at the basis of reality Nibbling the earlobe of the next global catastrophe Can you smell the Earth as she moans in total ecstasy? The Universe reciprocates and ******* a galaxy We're all in this together And not inconsequentially
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Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 1:31 PM UTC
Exploring Sensuality
Simple rhymes using words thoughts from my mind deleterious flow so be careful when you dive my words having you committing suicide in a sea of catastrophe Your girl is possessive but I have her in my possession like an apostrophe Life in my face saying "Boy you can't" Still pushing 50 times my weight like an ant its really the small things that lead to the big picture I was made in GOD's image so I guess he can write too...go figure a lot of people don't believe in what they cannot see you can't see oxygen but you believe you can breathe.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Simplicity
Forth flashed the serpent streak of steel, Consummate crown of man's device; Down crashed upon an immobile And brainless barrier of ice. Courage! The grey gods shoot a laughing lip: - Let not faith founder with the ship! We reel before the blows of fate; Our stout souls stagger at the shock. Oh! there is Something ultimate Fixed faster than the living rock. Courage! Catastrophe beyond belief Harden our hearts to fear and grief! The gods upon the Titans shower Their high intolerable scorn; But no god knoweth in what hour A new Prometheus may be born. Courage! Man to his doom goes driving down; A crown of thorns is still a crown! No power of nature shall withstand At last the spirit of mankind: It is not built upon the sand; It is not wastrel to the wind. Courage! Disaster and destruction tend To taller triumph in the end.
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5.9k
The Titanic
I am the catalyst of this cataclysm the catastrophe that impaled the atmosphere of this vagabond heart that is shaped like a sphere and an uncertain future being build out of fear that gets bypassed product of my cynicism.   Secluded in my lab concocting a potion for this illness and when all else fails call me the alchemist nothing more than an angst-ridden antagonist my apologies to the pessimist, my excuses to the optimist I was born to be a ********* with a heart made of silver.   Buried in my bunker trapped in someone else's lore which in turn makes me the catalyst of my own downfall I was baptized a Catholic without ever being asked turn me into a Cyclist and I'll pedal real far turn me into a Scientist and my lab coat will leave my side turn me into a labyrinth and you won't be able to find traces of me, of who I was or who I never came to be.
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Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 3:00 PM UTC
"The Catalyst"
When shall we learn, what should be clear as day, We cannot choose what we are free to love? Although the mouse we banished yesterday Is an enraged rhinoceros today, Our value is more threatened than we know: Shabby objections to our present day Go snooping round its outskirts; night and day Faces, orations, battles, bait our will As questionable forms and noises will; Whole phyla of resentments every day Give status to the wild men of the world Who rule the absent-minded and this world. We are created from and with the world To suffer with and from it day by day: Whether we meet in a majestic world Of solid measurements or a dream world Of swans and gold, we are required to love All homeless objects that require a world. Our claim to own our bodies and our world Is our catastrophe. What can we know But panic and caprice until we know Our dreadful appetite demands a world Whose order, origin, and purpose will Be fluent satisfaction of our will? Drift, Autumn, drift; fall, colours, where you will: Bald melancholia minces through the world. Regret, cold oceans, the lymphatic will Caught in reflection on the right to will: While violent dogs excite their dying day To bacchic fury; snarl, though, as they will, Their teeth are not a triumph for the will But utter hesitation. What we love Ourselves for is our power not to love, To shrink to nothing or explode at will, To ruin and remember that we know What ruins and hyaenas cannot know. If in this dark now I less often know That spiral staircase where the haunted will Hunts for its stolen luggage, who should know Better than you, beloved, how I know What gives security to any world. Or in whose mirror I begin to know The chaos of the heart as merchants know Their coins and cities, genius its own day? For through our lively traffic all the day, In my own person I am forced to know How much must be forgotten out of love, How much must be forgiven, even love. Dear flesh, dear mind, dear spirit, O dear love, In the depths of myself blind monsters know Your presence and are angry, dreading Love That asks its image for more than love; The hot rampageous horses of my will, Catching the scent of Heaven, whinny: Love Gives no excuse to evil done for love, Neither in you, nor me, nor armies, nor the world Of words and wheels, nor any other world. Dear fellow-creature, praise our God of Love That we are so admonished, that no day Of conscious trial be a wasted day. Or else we make a scarecrow of the day, Loose ends and jumble of our common world, And stuff and nonsense of our own free will; Or else our changing flesh may never know There must be sorrow if there can be love.
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5.1k
Canzone
When shall we learn, what should be clear as day, We cannot choose what we are free to love? Although the mouse we banished yesterday Is an enraged rhinoceros today, Our value is more threatened than we know: Shabby objections to our present day Go snooping round its outskirts; night and day Faces, orations, battles, bait our will As questionable forms and noises will; Whole phyla of resentments every day Give status to the wild men of the world Who rule the absent-minded and this world. We are created from and with the world To suffer with and from it day by day: Whether we meet in a majestic world Of solid measurements or a dream world Of swans and gold, we are required to love All homeless objects that require a world. Our claim to own our bodies and our world Is our catastrophe. What can we know But panic and caprice until we know Our dreadful appetite demands a world Whose order, origin, and purpose will Be fluent satisfaction of our will? Drift, Autumn, drift; fall, colours, where you will: Bald melancholia minces through the world. Regret, cold oceans, the lymphatic will Caught in reflection on the right to will: While violent dogs excite their dying day To bacchic fury; snarl, though, as they will, Their teeth are not a triumph for the will But utter hesitation. What we love Ourselves for is our power not to love, To shrink to nothing or explode at will, To ruin and remember that we know What ruins and hyaenas cannot know. If in this dark now I less often know That spiral staircase where the haunted will Hunts for its stolen luggage, who should know Better than you, beloved, how I know What gives security to any world. Or in whose mirror I begin to know The chaos of the heart as merchants know Their coins and cities, genius its own day? For through our lively traffic all the day, In my own person I am forced to know How much must be forgotten out of love, How much must be forgiven, even love. Dear flesh, dear mind, dear spirit, O dear love, In the depths of myself blind monsters know Your presence and are angry, dreading Love That asks its image for more than love; The hot rampageous horses of my will, Catching the scent of Heaven, whinny: Love Gives no excuse to evil done for love, Neither in you, nor me, nor armies, nor the world Of words and wheels, nor any other world. Dear fellow-creature, praise our God of Love That we are so admonished, that no day Of conscious trial be a wasted day. Or else we make a scarecrow of the day, Loose ends and jumble of our common world, And stuff and nonsense of our own free will; Or else our changing flesh may never know There must be sorrow if there can be love.
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65
He was the walking catastrophe I was the quiescent calamity People said we were each other's worst nightmare I said we are each other's sweetest daydream
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
Sweetest Daydream
You are a complication a welcomed conundrum our passion is mutilation your desire a dungeon The dilemma of us a selfish cycle a vendetta of trust soft touch feels spiteful Inevitable tragedy so deliciously inviting a seductive catastrophe are we loving or fighting my heavy mind dragged behind me a devilish heart out to blind me Love me problematically I accept your burden adore me traumatically bittersweet like my bourbon so torture me until I smile : )
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
a bittersweet affair
Ophelia, Ophelia, voracious daydreamer, how dare you upset this delicate orbit. your hands were the kiln for my sloppy and misshapen mind, but that was nothing, relatively, compared to the way your eyes reflected lost souls. my dear, it's a catastrophe. now when the moon chides me, and the stars reek of your smile, I run my hands across the fronts of empty dresses that you wore years ago. Ophelia, Ophelia, I recall the way your eyes shone like the peak of madness and how your shoulder blades touched in a subtly avian manner. how simple are the remnants of your existence, of your melancholia, I cling to them like a ***** to touch- and I know they will bring you no closer. stale shadows haunt my lingering eyes; where you should be standing I see only lost time. Ophelia, Ophelia, smoldering star in my hindsight, stone in my chest- I'm sad to see you go.
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Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
remnants of Ophelia
catastrophe                       and misery a pure soul shrouded in secrecy mystery more unexplored than vast cosmic voids half a lover                      half a paranoid
0
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
Self
i came back to run my hands all over your catastrophes.
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Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
catastrophe