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"centeredness" poems
* ***your pride tries to optimize my persona, to suit your needs, and if it doesn't, you criticize... Yet, you're good enough... your prejudice makes you suspect even my good deeds, and you demean me for them too.... Yet, you're good enough... your control freakiness makes you restrict me even if i act right... Yet, you're good enough... your self centeredness wants me to fit in the standards, you define and ever-changing ... Yet, you're good enough... the veil of your hatred doesn't let you see my love and concern for you... Yet, you're good enough...*** *
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Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 1:42 PM UTC
You're good enough...
# *River running.. That rushing sound in these parts spell out the words, crystal-clear.. Tree-lined banks, giving way to the Dark Hills,  upslope Giving way,  to granite-rocked outcroppings giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys Surrendering their holy-huddle's pristine stances to tall  prairie-grass, waving wild raspberries  and tall pines     And I,  myself..      am surrendering also She is watching the water, believing That as it flows, she will not lose herself in it That it will not steal,  but heal That I will not  rage again within my fear I am watching her, watch the water I am watching the water--  believing That as I give  of myself further  into the flow that I will not become  diffused by humanity By the love  of man and all  of its dishonesty and all  of its  diabolical treachery Of its  lack of concern, or understanding Or ability to break through its own,  self-centeredness Or its need  to swallow me up     into the mundane. Her hands are in the air now, praising.. Worshipping the true nature  of the flow, Believing.. that I will let all of this, go And as she  wades in I ease, back-- Retreating up the Dark Hills, slope Clutching tightly.. To granite-rocked outcroppings,   weeping. Hiding in the quakeys, among the majestic elk Begging for the tallgrass, cover among the wild raspberries.    Now, fully concealed    in  tall pines. Her hands are stretched out,  now.. as if hovering  over the waters, participating While I hide  from it all While I hide,  from humanity; From the fallen,  love of man     She is wading in,     Believing .     As I am leaving; Believing     As the cloud-hidden sky,     starts raining-- playing the most incredible, of tunes.* #
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Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 8:01 PM UTC
the art of Salvation
# *River running.. That rushing sound in these parts spell out the words, crystal-clear.. Tree-lined banks, giving way to the Dark Hills,  upslope Giving way,  to granite-rocked outcroppings giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys Surrendering their holy-huddle's pristine stances to tall  prairie-grass, waving wild raspberries  and tall pines     And I,  myself..      am surrendering also She is watching the water, believing That as it flows, she will not lose herself in it That it will not steal,  but heal That I will not  rage again within my fear I am watching her, watch the water I am watching the water--  believing That as I give  of myself further  into the flow that I will not become  diffused by humanity By the love  of man and all  of its dishonesty and all  of its  diabolical treachery Of its  lack of concern, or understanding Or ability to break through its own,  self-centeredness Or its need  to swallow me up     into the mundane. Her hands are in the air now, praising.. Worshipping the true nature  of the flow, Believing.. that I will let all of this, go And as she  wades in I ease, back-- Retreating up the Dark Hills, slope Clutching tightly.. To granite-rocked outcroppings,   weeping. Hiding in the quakeys, among the majestic elk Begging for the tallgrass, cover among the wild raspberries.    Now, fully concealed    in  tall pines. Her hands are stretched out,  now.. as if hovering  over the waters, participating While I hide  from it all While I hide,  from humanity; From the fallen,  love of man     She is wading in,     Believing .     As I am leaving; Believing     As the cloud-hidden sky,     starts raining-- playing the most incredible, of tunes.* #
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72
Even the most devout Christians accept that Jesus was a guy guys get ***** as do gals. Yes, all of us have a creator in us starlight life-creating energy poetry and prose. Maybe Jesus didn’t have the kind of darkness in him that we have the kind of drag of pride and self-centeredness that I have, but by God! he was faced with the same choices between fidelity and desire between horniness and selfless love. Yep I fail in ways he did not but he failed to get rid of lust just like I do he failed to avoid selfish desires. Of course, I act on them and ***** up in ways he did not. But do you think he didn’t feel ******* up at times? Of course he did. All of this humanity is what makes me like him. Jesus was a guy. That he was more is what makes me love him.
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Mar 3, 2022
Mar 3, 2022 at 10:23 AM UTC
Was Jesus *****
Living is often like drowning, and sleeping like flying, So bridges and tall buildings always tempt me. When I talk about death I feel brave. I've always hated how recognition can so easily turn into pride. They say pride comes before the fall, But I believe that various kinds of self-centeredness are the origin of all unholy descents. I remind myself that I shouldn't take my life because I didn't give it, And my heart continues to beat on its own. Blood doesn't stain crimson red, It darkens and crusts on the skin. Everything that is dead becomes only a memory, Then it disintegrates and washes away, eventually becoming nothing. I can’t remember anything from before I had the ability to reason, So when did I come alive? I wonder if all people valued beauty, Would there be peace? Because I sometimes wonder whether Neil Armstrong meant to say what he did as took his first step on the moon. I think trying is as valuable as doing, But justification is a dangerous tool. I am cautious of failure and success; But count this as my eulogy A list of things that I am going to say before my untimely death. *I recognized the world for the canvas it was and I didn't waste my life. My dreams were my motivation, And they were fueled by those that underestimated me I walked streets day and night and prayed that I would somehow run into the girl of my dreams, and when I finally found my missing rib I looked at her like she was a piece of art that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of. I suffered and I found its nectar bitter-sweet. I didn't get the best of life, but then I made the best of life. I never stopped caring, my love for the unlovable made me daring. I trusted too easily so I was always broken. I always found things to love, but they never loved me, But despite it, I still loved, hard, even though it hurt me. I couldn't comfort because I had never been comforted. After a lifetime of battling myself, I finally took off my crown of thorns. I didn't let the past get the best of me, I gave the future all of me. I hated animosity, War was despicable to me, And I always preached peace. I prayed constantly that my efforts would not be in vain. I never actually could stop sinning,  but despite my ugly sins, I never stopped straining. I was not perfect, but I did the best I could. I never ceased to hear the music. I still played, even when I felt like I was playing solo, I still played my part in this symphony of life. My eyes were aimed at the director, and we played through the storm, We played even when all hell was against us, We played, and played, and played Until eternity came through.....*
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
A Romanticist' Suicide
Living is often like drowning, and sleeping like flying, So bridges and tall buildings always tempt me. When I talk about death I feel brave. I've always hated how recognition can so easily turn into pride. They say pride comes before the fall, But I believe that various kinds of self-centeredness are the origin of all unholy descents. I remind myself that I shouldn't take my life because I didn't give it, And my heart continues to beat on its own. Blood doesn't stain crimson red, It darkens and crusts on the skin. Everything that is dead becomes only a memory, Then it disintegrates and washes away, eventually becoming nothing. I can’t remember anything from before I had the ability to reason, So when did I come alive? I wonder if all people valued beauty, Would there be peace? Because I sometimes wonder whether Neil Armstrong meant to say what he did as took his first step on the moon. I think trying is as valuable as doing, But justification is a dangerous tool. I am cautious of failure and success; But count this as my eulogy A list of things that I am going to say before my untimely death. *I recognized the world for the canvas it was and I didn't waste my life. My dreams were my motivation, And they were fueled by those that underestimated me I walked streets day and night and prayed that I would somehow run into the girl of my dreams, and when I finally found my missing rib I looked at her like she was a piece of art that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of. I suffered and I found its nectar bitter-sweet. I didn't get the best of life, but then I made the best of life. I never stopped caring, my love for the unlovable made me daring. I trusted too easily so I was always broken. I always found things to love, but they never loved me, But despite it, I still loved, hard, even though it hurt me. I couldn't comfort because I had never been comforted. After a lifetime of battling myself, I finally took off my crown of thorns. I didn't let the past get the best of me, I gave the future all of me. I hated animosity, War was despicable to me, And I always preached peace. I prayed constantly that my efforts would not be in vain. I never actually could stop sinning,  but despite my ugly sins, I never stopped straining. I was not perfect, but I did the best I could. I never ceased to hear the music. I still played, even when I felt like I was playing solo, I still played my part in this symphony of life. My eyes were aimed at the director, and we played through the storm, We played even when all hell was against us, We played, and played, and played Until eternity came through.....*
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50
The foundation of selfishness Has much to do with wanting and desiring And places a heavy focus on Thoughts of obtaining and acquiring. The instinctive ego takes control And motivations become self-centered. We're often heedless and unaware Of the shadowy place that we have entered. Naturally, self-centeredness Colors what we think and do; But NOT wanting and NOT desiring, On the other hand, can be selfish, too. Wanting: selfish? Not wanting: selfish? How--we might ask--does that make sense? NOT wanting may substantiate Our way of life at others' expense: Not wanting others to share the same freedoms; Not wanting others to have the same rights; Being silent when seeing injustice; Ignoring people's struggles and plights; Not acknowledging the efforts of others; Not desiring to work toward peace; Not wanting to know oneself; Not caring if hatreds cease; Being indifferent to the happiness of others; Not allowing others to progress; Not wanting to know how to fix Our planet once we've made a huge mess. NOT wanting in many ways Speaks as loudly as word or deed, And we become helpless victims Of our sad and varying levels of greed. What motivates us really? Do we know, or do we care? Is it safer NOT to know? It might seem so, but beware. - by Bob B
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
(Not) Wanting and (Not) Desiring
I a free to say and do whatever my heart desires Judged by a code of ethics but I have acquired the combination I am a free spirit that soars though life I am a moral man, but what are morals anymore? Different opinions and mind sets is what makes existence so grand Decisions made to improve my life at another's expense Self centeredness is the nature of the beast My tone is just a reflection of the of my outlook Silence has set this spirit free from worry An ultimate power reigns on this earth,therefor, I remain good Peoples tendencies stir up complications of misunderstandings I adjust to the situation and remain a free spirit Who are you to JUDGE?
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
Free Spirit
I am making a wall that is so much I cant break it down, on my own this is my mistake and I cant change it I tried my best to tear this apart but my best is so worse Ive been hopeless, no where else to go Is there an open door for me to go in? Take this ways, Im so vulnerable When I am alone and with the crowd I end up with tears at night And praying facedown to the floor This heart is always thinking of you In my dreams, you are there Sometimes you are annoyed of me Just like in reality And it breaks my heart I woke and I ask myself Why are you so selfish? You are always thinking of that Many people were telling you to stop but are you listening to them? This will carry you to great deliverance Its been too long since Ive been here Im so anxious of the future So curious that never wanted to lose my affection Because of this self-centeredness of myself I cant talk with you personally My tongue never produced a word There is no victory in my way It condemns me day after day My time was consumed by this feeling I thought that this is over but as I walk towards holiness Its getting so hard and heavy I cant defeat this fiery ordeals They are everywhere I can sense there presence God, you know my heart If this is love Teach me how to prepare If this is not the thing that You suppose to be with me Let the root of this infatuation vanish Let it sink into the ocean floor Or bury it into the ground So that I will never put to shame
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May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 1:05 AM UTC
The Pencils Will Write Their Name
Feel the force of the broken ones Blindly lashing at the branches Afraid to strike the root and see The end to their negative solidarity Streets seethe under daylight’s pressure: The negative solidarity movement marches forth. But I remember as I stand here watching on, That they say the night is always darkest before the dawn. In fear the masses converge Under banners devoid of vision, Understanding, And love. No light of freedom glints in eyes That look for solutions from above: “The state will cure the sickness of self-centeredness, Greed, And Lust, It will bring the order to our lives Our cities, Our nation, Our trust.” But the state can protect us only From the violence we cause each other Its touch never brings the love we crave From every man as our brother. It cements its rule with force’s power That in love’s absence, projects a veneer Of a nation’s people bound together Though, in fact, they’re bound by fear. The state’s hand touches where we’ve succumbed To the blind hatred that keeps us enchained To our selfishness that preys on others And acts on lies we’ve entertained. The state lets us live with the sad folly Of not looking our fellow man in the eyes And knowing his pain, troubles and joy While living with him every day of our lives. I dream one day we’ll realize the truth That our nation was not of fiat born But birthed by freedom’s present light From which the state has had us torn. I dream one day we’ll see the truth That love and freedom must lead the fight Against state slavery and its chains But ’till then we march: Left, right, Left, right, Left, right.
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Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
Untitled
Feel the force of the broken ones Blindly lashing at the branches Afraid to strike the root and see The end to their negative solidarity Streets seethe under daylight’s pressure: The negative solidarity movement marches forth. But I remember as I stand here watching on, That they say the night is always darkest before the dawn. In fear the masses converge Under banners devoid of vision, Understanding, And love. No light of freedom glints in eyes That look for solutions from above: “The state will cure the sickness of self-centeredness, Greed, And Lust, It will bring the order to our lives Our cities, Our nation, Our trust.” But the state can protect us only From the violence we cause each other Its touch never brings the love we crave From every man as our brother. It cements its rule with force’s power That in love’s absence, projects a veneer Of a nation’s people bound together Though, in fact, they’re bound by fear. The state’s hand touches where we’ve succumbed To the blind hatred that keeps us enchained To our selfishness that preys on others And acts on lies we’ve entertained. The state lets us live with the sad folly Of not looking our fellow man in the eyes And knowing his pain, troubles and joy While living with him every day of our lives. I dream one day we’ll realize the truth That our nation was not of fiat born But birthed by freedom’s present light From which the state has had us torn. I dream one day we’ll see the truth That love and freedom must lead the fight Against state slavery and its chains But ’till then we march: Left, right, Left, right, Left, right.
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49
When I am in my Dark Before Dawn, Believing my falsehood that I am a Failure Listening as Angels Fall, Breaking the Silence; The sound is Hollow yet it brings me Close to Heaven. Bury Me Alive is no longer my mantra; Never Again shall The Great Divide form like this. I taste the Ashes of Eden clinging to my lips, I remember that I am not forever Defeated. Yet I am living in Dear Agony, Feeling like I'm going to slowly Fade Away. I realize that I Will not Bow to these demons, I will Crawl as long as you Give Me a Sign. Then I realise that it's all Hopeless when I, Discover What Lies Beneath. I solemnly sing out, in a whisper, the Anthem of the Angels. I can comprehend it's Lights Out in my mind, Screaming out Dear Agony out Into the Nothing because I am Without You... Did I ever tell you about my Phobia? I got it while I was reading The Diary of Jane, It took my Breath away when she wrote she loves You. So I fell like an Evil Angel, Swearing to hate you Until the End. With my self-centeredness I daftly decided I should Dance With the Devil at a ******* bar. But... Here We Are again; I'm an Unknown Soldier and you've Had Enough. Once again, You Fight Me. Remember that We Are not Alone. I've felt desperate, So Cold, When it's just a Simple Design I should Follow. You are my Firefly as you catch me. You Break My Fall and I won't Forget It. But Sooner or Later I'm going to Breakdown, Slipping Away because I can't Believe. So watch me fall like Rain.
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
Breaking Benjamin Tribute
O Lord, I continue to ache for Your heart of flesh! Lovingly chastise me, with regard to improper attitudes; my spirit will never freely soar in unity with You, without understanding and a transcendental altitude. Chasing earthly mirages is a waste of my precious time and it will never satisfy or quench my unending thirst. Living a dedicated life of self-gratification and pleasure, won’t overcome this pain… that’s been repeatedly rehearsed. Deep within my soul, I embrace Your genuine Love for me. As a result, unwanted, dead things are compelled to fall away. Concepts of selfishness, jealousy, discontentment, self-pity, greed, addiction, and unforgiveness will no longer rule my days. Lord, teach me to “take up my cross” daily without complaint; Break the stony hardheartedness that hinders our relationship! For I crave, the joy and contentment I previously possessed, which softly undergirds our ongoing and eternal fellowship. With Your Word hidden in my heart, I walk the “narrow path”, since sin’s “broad path” leads only to one’s destruction. Acting ungodly will always be a lost battle of the soul; therefore, I cling onto Your Salvation and Resurrection… with a proper mindset and complete surrender to You! Self-centeredness is unhealthy to my soul’s existence; therefore, I’m determined to purposely seek oneness with You, while forgoing the proverbial path… of least resistance. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Ezek 11:19; 1 John 3:9-14; 2 Cor 4, 5:17; Rev 3:19; Phil 3:10, 4:12; Gal 2:20, 6:10, 12-15; 1 Tim 5:6, 6:6-7; 1 Thes 5:15; 1 Cor 13; Mark 8:34; Matt 6:10, 33 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
Poem: Heart of Flesh
O Lord, I continue to ache for Your heart of flesh! Lovingly chastise me, with regard to improper attitudes; my spirit will never freely soar in unity with You, without understanding and a transcendental altitude. Chasing earthly mirages is a waste of my precious time and it will never satisfy or quench my unending thirst. Living a dedicated life of self-gratification and pleasure, won’t overcome this pain… that’s been repeatedly rehearsed. Deep within my soul, I embrace Your genuine Love for me. As a result, unwanted, dead things are compelled to fall away. Concepts of selfishness, jealousy, discontentment, self-pity, greed, addiction, and unforgiveness will no longer rule my days. Lord, teach me to “take up my cross” daily without complaint; Break the stony hardheartedness that hinders our relationship! For I crave, the joy and contentment I previously possessed, which softly undergirds our ongoing and eternal fellowship. With Your Word hidden in my heart, I walk the “narrow path”, since sin’s “broad path” leads only to one’s destruction. Acting ungodly will always be a lost battle of the soul; therefore, I cling onto Your Salvation and Resurrection… with a proper mindset and complete surrender to You! Self-centeredness is unhealthy to my soul’s existence; therefore, I’m determined to purposely seek oneness with You, while forgoing the proverbial path… of least resistance. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Ezek 11:19; 1 John 3:9-14; 2 Cor 4, 5:17; Rev 3:19; Phil 3:10, 4:12; Gal 2:20, 6:10, 12-15; 1 Tim 5:6, 6:6-7; 1 Thes 5:15; 1 Cor 13; Mark 8:34; Matt 6:10, 33 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
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32
Is this like art? No, sister. This is self-centeredness, a soap opera. * Time, the incongruous snail. How quickly it moves. I need new folklore, a new change purse to hold the eyeballs I ****** out of thinness. Nod to panicked thickness. Nod to talk radio. Box fan in my window ******* in the same air the dinosaurs breathed, the air jimmy hoffa breathed, the air the rosenbergs breathed. It feels wet. * This mineral spring smells like jellied summer. All of my hanging plants are dying without fear. The air above my head is cancerous. I live in a birdhouse, powered by phantom glories.
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May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
Untitled
Cloud sandwich After a long day flying Invited to this rock to rest Did you call it Earth? I've Slid like silk between strata The Light Steed's earnest breath Is north of near, between the crests Of here and there Guided by centeredness Engaged to peace The Golden Fleece of allowance lets it Be                            Angel cradled mind release Eyebrow mountains, the crystal creek Flowing forth The Creator speaks, "Drink deeply child, be filled.” Yes, I can stick around for some stellar tea And a light shake Cloud sandwiched, I'll give you Tours of the galaxy.
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Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
Cradled
My heart scares you away At least that's what I tell myself It's not my lack of affection Or my self centeredness My heart It scares you away.
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Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 4:33 AM UTC
Corral Reefs
Tim wasn't the only one infected, But he was the only one who wasn't turning into a duck. It had been more than two years of horror, And almost every part of the world had been struck. This new disease was carried through the shiny electronic devices, That had gripped the world in a photogenic way. Every wall and post reeked of the self centeredness, And all that led to this last man standing scenario today. Tim was resisting his fate by throwing away all the devices he could find, But his hope was slowly degrading, as they were scattered everywhere. He was experiencing what scientists called as a celebrity syndrome, The last stage before he would give in, it was almost too hard to bear. His soul was being crushed within his hundred dollar shirt, But he was far more inclined to break the mirror in front of his eyes. The disease was spreading through his arms and hands now, And in sometime there would be no place left to hide. Everyone at his school had turned into a duck the other day, He had seen it from his own eyes, as all his friends got stuck on the web. Scientists were baffled how it spread impervious of one's religion or faith, They said the only part recognizable after the infection spreads is the head. He found his moms name last night too, posted on the wall of lost people. Tim could only rub his eyes, she was only fifty -five. He had no clue of what to do, he was already feeling so miserable, His father had already died, lost sister at twenty-five. Tim was growing restless by the second, wrestling with his own arms, But it was too much to handle and finally his hands got free, He flashed the electronic device at the mirror, it felt warm, And that's how Tim became the last casualty on earth to catch a selfie.
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
How humans turned into ducks
Tim wasn't the only one infected, But he was the only one who wasn't turning into a duck. It had been more than two years of horror, And almost every part of the world had been struck. This new disease was carried through the shiny electronic devices, That had gripped the world in a photogenic way. Every wall and post reeked of the self centeredness, And all that led to this last man standing scenario today. Tim was resisting his fate by throwing away all the devices he could find, But his hope was slowly degrading, as they were scattered everywhere. He was experiencing what scientists called as a celebrity syndrome, The last stage before he would give in, it was almost too hard to bear. His soul was being crushed within his hundred dollar shirt, But he was far more inclined to break the mirror in front of his eyes. The disease was spreading through his arms and hands now, And in sometime there would be no place left to hide. Everyone at his school had turned into a duck the other day, He had seen it from his own eyes, as all his friends got stuck on the web. Scientists were baffled how it spread impervious of one's religion or faith, They said the only part recognizable after the infection spreads is the head. He found his moms name last night too, posted on the wall of lost people. Tim could only rub his eyes, she was only fifty -five. He had no clue of what to do, he was already feeling so miserable, His father had already died, lost sister at twenty-five. Tim was growing restless by the second, wrestling with his own arms, But it was too much to handle and finally his hands got free, He flashed the electronic device at the mirror, it felt warm, And that's how Tim became the last casualty on earth to catch a selfie.
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28
World will end this new year, like so many before it, With people trying to better themselves in meager ways, So they can achieve them. That’s no way to go about resolution. Thinking that the whole world will be washed and turn over A new leaf, the world will be the same place, and by your Viewpoint of this, that could be good or a horrible thing. “Looking” at things with every sense is the only way to grasp. The world will still have war, death, disease, violence, hat… The world will also still have peace, life, health, helping, love…. The world won’t be this shiny new place, but for those that Achieve miraculous goals, whether resolutions, or out of the Moment. Then those are the shiny bits of history for us. They’re only heroes if they deny that they are heroes. The world will end with people conflicted with themselves And others. But hopefully content with that conflictedness. Don’t idolize others and try to become them, create your Own idolization, not self-centeredness. Create your own view. Create your own culture and society. Create yourself. Do what you want, as long as it doesn’t hurt yourself or others. You’re you for the rest of your life, so you might want to…
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Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
NO MORE
090216 My being overflows w/ Your cup of salvation As I've learned by heart what true love is; A love that's unconditional And marked only by Your grace. I no longer trust my own instinct That may lead me to question Love; For it may bind me to self-centeredness, And so I choose to unlearn distrust. You pour out Yourself unto me As You had my name engraved in Your palms. Gently, You whisper Your caring Words And then, they become hymns To which my heart & soul resonates. And when my heart is torn asunder, Every debris of failures, You turn them into ashes. The degree of burnt memories; My desire of loving, You remained at rest. You never failed to carry my heart With Your mighty arms, You rescue my dripping reveries. Unto Your feet, I lay my dying petals of hope. I had missed so many opportunities You gave me, But now I arise in Spirit and in Truth, I choose to love You, You're all that I've got.
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Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC
I Rather Love than Miss
self depreciation all day. on the other end of the spectrum (of my self-centeredness) i have been stopped by people who have nothing more to say than you're beautiful. hell-o, cloud cover-ing my embarrassment. this vessel, hovercraft named LonelyCrusin' is here to pick up my mania, my loveliness. strangers left with a beautiful **** not a beautiful person but an avoidable disaster. my little soul, the hedonist. blanket the word solipsism — 4†, superhero. i am not my name + technology; i am not my face + a mouth full of ***** maybe i am. i don't care. you will come to my house, already boiling (your arousal smells like herbal tea) and i will be in the tub with music on loud. i will ignore you until i dissolve into the weak solution i am. † the act in which i refuse yet again the image of another. give myself to myself and only i can lose.
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Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
Untitled
And shes decided her heart is broken, Have you decided what the token is Put the golden medal of sorrow around your neck As she wanders around town looking for stories to tell about backstabbing and the man is elusive, who accepts her self centeredness She was never my friend Has she decided her heart is broken Has she decided which token to carry
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Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
Your mask is paper mache
i like to tell stories that bring glory to me no one i know is more deservingly at this moment you think i am up on myself but at this moment isn't everyone else with self centeredness being the thought of the day in the i want it all and i want it my way i can honestly say without skipping a beat i, me, and mine are my top favorite three so listen closely to the stories i tell interestingly about me and nobody else
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Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
let's talk about me
Sleep does not come easy to me, if at all Quite often i find myself merely in a stasis Un-moving, un-thinking, muscles completely still Dreams came to me often; before Beautiful machinations of my subconscious would wing their way to the front of my eyes Images of my once very real fears would mix and mingle with the deepest desires of my heart The balance of waking mind given reckless abandon within the confines of my mind Some nights i would see faces of people i have never formally met, but i would look upon them like ive always known them Other times i would escape the tendrilite grasp of mortal life and i would be swept away into the air on gorgeous white wings; looking with my own eyes down onto the earth And a few times i would feel, oh so vividly, the touch of a woman My hands, much like talons, taking her like she was my own Engorging myself with a rare opportune moment of per self centeredness and greed However fragile peace may be, it was the last bastion of mortality i had Fortune would not have it; i would never again have a dream Sleep was the last to leave me I cant remember the last time i shut my eyes I havent a single shred of memory for what it is to awaken A single notebook is all that remains of my dreams And reading them has become a small, fleeting task Something to simply fill time For each time i do it, it is new Reading a fraction of my former life is like meeting a stranger In hopes that maybe the dream i share with all those around me will end Someday i will wake up, and perhaps then i will die Maybe when i finally forget everything, all things of what it is to be Perhaps i will die, and be born again I can only hope to awaken, to know that things have changed
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
The Immortal Melting Man 7
Sleep does not come easy to me, if at all Quite often i find myself merely in a stasis Un-moving, un-thinking, muscles completely still Dreams came to me often; before Beautiful machinations of my subconscious would wing their way to the front of my eyes Images of my once very real fears would mix and mingle with the deepest desires of my heart The balance of waking mind given reckless abandon within the confines of my mind Some nights i would see faces of people i have never formally met, but i would look upon them like ive always known them Other times i would escape the tendrilite grasp of mortal life and i would be swept away into the air on gorgeous white wings; looking with my own eyes down onto the earth And a few times i would feel, oh so vividly, the touch of a woman My hands, much like talons, taking her like she was my own Engorging myself with a rare opportune moment of per self centeredness and greed However fragile peace may be, it was the last bastion of mortality i had Fortune would not have it; i would never again have a dream Sleep was the last to leave me I cant remember the last time i shut my eyes I havent a single shred of memory for what it is to awaken A single notebook is all that remains of my dreams And reading them has become a small, fleeting task Something to simply fill time For each time i do it, it is new Reading a fraction of my former life is like meeting a stranger In hopes that maybe the dream i share with all those around me will end Someday i will wake up, and perhaps then i will die Maybe when i finally forget everything, all things of what it is to be Perhaps i will die, and be born again I can only hope to awaken, to know that things have changed
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27
A heart   that just wants to be what it is.. without edit  needed, to avoid punishment or worse yet, counterfeit imitation So why not we stoke up the gaslight  flame and color it all, empty or count it all to that of self gain nullifying the good down to that  of everyday, commonplace or that  of an every day self-centeredness.. making every single bit of this, un-fixable
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Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 10:09 AM UTC
Fix this--
Story of my life.... My criminal offense I did 2 years in a cage Got sent away for loving you I participated and didn't call it off I was an accomplice to love I was there for you, with you Played a part in your love affair Then you trapped me in your circle of promises Broken promises I went to jail for your own sins Dishonesty, untrustworthy, alcoholism irresponsible, careless, self-centeredness sexist, ungrateful, unapologetic Should've known better That **** got me locked up Got released but am on probation Had to do a little bit of snitching...introspection Got lucky, things could've went pear shaped Pulled myself together now I got to testify Tell the whole world how you molested my trust How you emotionally ***** me How you beat my heart to a pulp How I couldn't stop you though I tried I have to confess all of that Else I am facing a life sentence of abuse, brokenness and loneliness I have to testify against you and set myself free from binding chains So help me God to tell the truth And finally get to walk away
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
Imprisoned
It hurts cause I'm well aware You simply do not have room in your own self centeredness to care I know, cause I've been there I'm still there
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
No room to let me in