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"chem" poems
what my forays into online dating offered me that wasn’t s*x; european coffee beans, a film camera from the 70s, a workshop on ceramics, chicken parmagiana, bottles of blueberry lemonade, thai food that isn’t spicy, help with calculus homework, notes on gen chem, all the Star Wars movies, a book about magic: the gathering, a ride to an nba game, museum visits, nature walks, impulsive road trips, stories about their exes, silly anecdotes, photos of their pets, quality memes, awkward hugs that felt good. such small intimacies, never blossoming into something bigger yet still imbued with meaning.. filled with what-ifs, if-onlys, and almosts.
0
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
“dating apps aren’t that bad”
.                           O                   o       o O                             O      o         O     •fill our beak- er with un- told chem- icals•com- patible  so- lvents that fizz... with bubbles•m- ix them in to get the most homogene- ous of solutions•introdu- ce heat in the likes of passion •never a clean reaction, there will be residue• never right the first time, failed attempts will be a few......• but once distilled from undesirable impurity•........then handle the mixture with utmost sensitivity........• you'll get a result that can't be bought with money• because this love in our hearts is the product of pure chemistry• .
0
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
Chemistry
In a fit of pique truths were written. In a moment of reflection all was deleted. Platitudes were written back instead. Who am I to speak of the dead? A wife was ungrateful with truth. Did a pen pal want what the sacred vows of marriage Make unacceptable realities? For whom would I have written? Who would it have pleased? Staring at a fresh e-mail in humbled wonderment that someone would give decent pretense to care I -safely back from war- now ask: what do you want to know? Do you really want to know? Is it my place to tell of seeing a man's insides on the outside of a vehicle who's occupants he unwittingly saved by stepping on the landmine instead? The mine splattered the survivors' vehicle in red. Is it my place to tell Of listening to the medic's confession? Hearing him speak of tasting the blood in the air like pennies on his tongue. There's a tale I haven't heard sung! I met my Shadow I embraced him so deeply that I As I had existed before Ceased to be. The naive child thinking it was Light The Predatory Survivor others (cowards!) may judge as Dark Were forged together Stronger perhaps Time will tell As the alloy of two selves is unified by a personal hell Cheering at outgoing steel rain Laughing after the whizzing of bullets is a memory Running, racing to donate more blood Mourning the fallen while bathed in the dim red glow of chem lights Watching honored corpses loaded in near darkness for their last helicopter flights Is this what you wanted to hear? Perhaps you knew. Perhaps you imagined you knew. Regardless For your consideration Thank you For your innocent Well-intentioned Beautifully petty Gloriously naive And honest letters Thank you. Truly
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Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
Dear PenPal,
In a fit of pique truths were written. In a moment of reflection all was deleted. Platitudes were written back instead. Who am I to speak of the dead? A wife was ungrateful with truth. Did a pen pal want what the sacred vows of marriage Make unacceptable realities? For whom would I have written? Who would it have pleased? Staring at a fresh e-mail in humbled wonderment that someone would give decent pretense to care I -safely back from war- now ask: what do you want to know? Do you really want to know? Is it my place to tell of seeing a man's insides on the outside of a vehicle who's occupants he unwittingly saved by stepping on the landmine instead? The mine splattered the survivors' vehicle in red. Is it my place to tell Of listening to the medic's confession? Hearing him speak of tasting the blood in the air like pennies on his tongue. There's a tale I haven't heard sung! I met my Shadow I embraced him so deeply that I As I had existed before Ceased to be. The naive child thinking it was Light The Predatory Survivor others (cowards!) may judge as Dark Were forged together Stronger perhaps Time will tell As the alloy of two selves is unified by a personal hell Cheering at outgoing steel rain Laughing after the whizzing of bullets is a memory Running, racing to donate more blood Mourning the fallen while bathed in the dim red glow of chem lights Watching honored corpses loaded in near darkness for their last helicopter flights Is this what you wanted to hear? Perhaps you knew. Perhaps you imagined you knew. Regardless For your consideration Thank you For your innocent Well-intentioned Beautifully petty Gloriously naive And honest letters Thank you. Truly
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52
Teacher lectures. Talking students. Busy hallways. Quiet librarys. Running in gym. Crying in chem. Numbers & letters. Words in a book. Lockers slamming & jamming. Study. Stress. Test. School.
0
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
School
You know how when You put a kettle on a stove, Maybe for tea Or something else maybe You get the kettle To put on the stove And you put water in it From the tap Or if you're in The inner city Then maybe from A jug From cvs Or rite aid I don't know which is closer To your kettle That you're putting the Water in To put on the stove But the tap smells funny And tastes like minerals And artificiality So if you have a bit of money, Maybe an on-tap Filter or brita You turn the little **** on the front Of the oven And you hear The distressed, hurried Sound of a component Desperately trying To do its job It seems like forever But it's just a couple Seconds The spark catches The gas And glorious blue Energy leaps out And causes Instant condensation On the side of the Kettle you've filled With water And put on the stove And then Primordial chemistry As old as old Changes **** Around inside No time For a chem lesson Just listen And then after a few minutes A blast of Piping hot Shrill Pure energy Explodes out of the top In an earsplitting Harried call To you to let you Know the kettle You put on the stove Is now ready For you. All that pressure, From so much activity, Before you even Turned the heat on You walked around Gathering materials And moving about And all the calories You burn thinking About it And then the Thermal activity Which is breathtaking In its simple But ever so complicated Perfect order And predictability And all of this simply Amazing process Culminates In one constant, High energy geyser Of released pressure. This is equivalent To the results Of one thought About you. What a life As a kettle. Yea.
0
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
--Arithmetic--
You know how when You put a kettle on a stove, Maybe for tea Or something else maybe You get the kettle To put on the stove And you put water in it From the tap Or if you're in The inner city Then maybe from A jug From cvs Or rite aid I don't know which is closer To your kettle That you're putting the Water in To put on the stove But the tap smells funny And tastes like minerals And artificiality So if you have a bit of money, Maybe an on-tap Filter or brita You turn the little **** on the front Of the oven And you hear The distressed, hurried Sound of a component Desperately trying To do its job It seems like forever But it's just a couple Seconds The spark catches The gas And glorious blue Energy leaps out And causes Instant condensation On the side of the Kettle you've filled With water And put on the stove And then Primordial chemistry As old as old Changes **** Around inside No time For a chem lesson Just listen And then after a few minutes A blast of Piping hot Shrill Pure energy Explodes out of the top In an earsplitting Harried call To you to let you Know the kettle You put on the stove Is now ready For you. All that pressure, From so much activity, Before you even Turned the heat on You walked around Gathering materials And moving about And all the calories You burn thinking About it And then the Thermal activity Which is breathtaking In its simple But ever so complicated Perfect order And predictability And all of this simply Amazing process Culminates In one constant, High energy geyser Of released pressure. This is equivalent To the results Of one thought About you. What a life As a kettle. Yea.
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96
Dear Ms. Di Prima, I really, Really, Think that Alchemy—Alchemy--Al-Chem-EEEEE Is a Nifty Topic. But, My mother has a ring Of gold. Standard Gold, No lead. None. Or had, Until our house was B-R-O / K-E / N Into By some lowlife scumbag with Too much ability And Not enough intelligence. With Alchemy I could make a shitload Of Gold (wasn't that the point?), Provided I had the Lead, And not that IMPOSTER Crap in pencils (Graphite. My childhood was a shambles.). But it's only valuable Because We're willing to pay so much. Like with Diamonds. Or Japanese Akita. Or Wagyū. It's not a lie. Just a trick. Making you think you want things that you don't need because it helps someone else who you've never met make more money than they'd ever be able to use in a legitimate way                                    (HOOKERS AND BLOW). All of these things are synthetic. With the exceptions of Gold And Graphite. So,        Maybe,                       Alchemy did work out alright, Just not in the anticipated way. We can make all sorts of things. But they become coveted only when they exist. Just ask Swipey McStickyfingers. It actually wasn't gold. You just got a bunch of painted junk, And passports. No rubies. We weren't international crooks, Renowned and beloved By jealous zealots. It was purely sentimental. But you can't understand. You can't fondly look at the earrings as the last reminder of a deceased parent. You can't flip through the identification booklet and be flooded with memories of your first trip out of the country. You ****** You can't even cash the savings bonds that were bought to put someone through college. No. He got a box of documents and some cheap jewelery. But still. Probably called for celebration. A successful heist Because his brain is still in his head.                                                                 We create people as well as objects.                                                                                           Ms. Di Prima, In the end,       Some people will always be      Clasping ********
0
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 6:38 PM UTC
Response to Diane Di Prima's Paracelsus: and Ending with the Same Last Line of Charles Bukowski's I Am Visited by an Editor and a Poet
Dear Ms. Di Prima, I really, Really, Think that Alchemy—Alchemy--Al-Chem-EEEEE Is a Nifty Topic. But, My mother has a ring Of gold. Standard Gold, No lead. None. Or had, Until our house was B-R-O / K-E / N Into By some lowlife scumbag with Too much ability And Not enough intelligence. With Alchemy I could make a shitload Of Gold (wasn't that the point?), Provided I had the Lead, And not that IMPOSTER Crap in pencils (Graphite. My childhood was a shambles.). But it's only valuable Because We're willing to pay so much. Like with Diamonds. Or Japanese Akita. Or Wagyū. It's not a lie. Just a trick. Making you think you want things that you don't need because it helps someone else who you've never met make more money than they'd ever be able to use in a legitimate way                                    (HOOKERS AND BLOW). All of these things are synthetic. With the exceptions of Gold And Graphite. So,        Maybe,                       Alchemy did work out alright, Just not in the anticipated way. We can make all sorts of things. But they become coveted only when they exist. Just ask Swipey McStickyfingers. It actually wasn't gold. You just got a bunch of painted junk, And passports. No rubies. We weren't international crooks, Renowned and beloved By jealous zealots. It was purely sentimental. But you can't understand. You can't fondly look at the earrings as the last reminder of a deceased parent. You can't flip through the identification booklet and be flooded with memories of your first trip out of the country. You ****** You can't even cash the savings bonds that were bought to put someone through college. No. He got a box of documents and some cheap jewelery. But still. Probably called for celebration. A successful heist Because his brain is still in his head.                                                                 We create people as well as objects.                                                                                           Ms. Di Prima, In the end,       Some people will always be      Clasping ********
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70
We are not the voice to elect a king We are anonymous I am not the one you want to convene because I question everything I am just a voice of honesty as degenerates overtake my home Life in the wake of calamity cast on a pile of bones It’s the new order of the ages, welcome to the end of days The beast controls our lives impeding our ability to thrive induced into a system designed for wealth, power, and lies A price is paid for not conceding to an affirmation worth repeating as I join the enlightened ones and wage a massive war A circularity that deviates from its path is not a circle anymore They will invoke internal and external threats then establish many secret prisons Slowly restricting the freedom of the Press while surveying ordinary citizens Chem-trails from government jets will be dismissed as urban legends Mandatory vaccinations designed to lower urban intelligence Radio-frequency identification chips mandatory for men, women, and children Man-made global pandemics separated for segregated sterilization Espionage becomes the new word for criticism And dissent will be the new word for treason In the name of self-preservation they will subvert the rule of law We are broken beyond repair, slaves for all we have As they divide our families, we ignore another false flag As history repeats, we are kept under control But we are not the voices to elect a king because we are anonymous
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Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
We Are Anonymous
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. I hate thee to the co-ordinate y My soul exists, and so begging to die In revising chem, maths and more all days. I hate thee more than the universe size If Olber’s paradox was somehow true. I hate thee freely, as men fight Mech 2. I hate thee purely, as they waste their lives. I hate thee with a passion put to use Poetically procrastinating you. I hate thee with hatred I cannot lose With my lost UMS – hate thee with breath, Pens, tears, of all my strife – and, if God choose, I shall only be free when I’m with death.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
Revision - How Do I Hate Thee
P1 There once was a guy Who once had a guild And that guild was built With seventy head That guy once guided his guild Where grey lands were filled and built He held down his sword and belt Screaming out loud while moving his head "Where gold is we land and dig" "Where glory is we put our head" There once were guides Who helped that guild Finding grey lands That filled and built One guild guy had wrote and read His name was "Chiny Chem Ded" Other guild guide was in the lead Where war is you hear " Belly Den Deed "
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Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
Grey Lands " part 1"
Eyes that give half recognitions with almost audible clicks and the universal amp that is the human ivory smile, drives it home. Deaf hands moving with blunt precision, fumbling for alarm clocks, bra hooks, chem notes and silent red cups. Doing essential jobs that essentially involve doing nothing.
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Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 7:43 PM UTC
Daytime musings
Show me your elements, your mixtures, your Adorable complex surface, Let me Dive within and soak in your enzymes, With my only effort being to reach, to Stretch, to get that most unattainable inner flame Within, to grasp it and burn myself.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 3:37 AM UTC
Chem
This week I will pull off the impossible I will write the greatest cases ever written I will pull up my GPA turn in the greatest transcendentalism essay you'll ever read finish my APUSH pull off wonders in AP Chem. Ah, the life of a student in a highly competetive, tightly-knit arena going for the win. Little things like drama and social tension just seem to fade away when you reach out higher, harder, faster Research, speed drills, caffeine Lose weight, forget to eat Gain weight, forget to sleep But I feel fantastic. No more emo ******** finally, after too long, I am passionate.
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
National Qualifiers
As an inexplicable soul, Trapped behind bar's Of the flesh; I awaiteth to break Out of this worldly abode; Where mine wing's canst fly Far away from this nest. In a white robe to be dressed, In a Faraway home; soaring Peaks O' unknown, How the flowers Impress. None shackles to mine feet, Nor any chem trailed air; Just the sound's that Surround, their word's To flow through Mine hair. I'll use gold to write with, Silver to create its depth; O' I wilt cherish the saint's Of gods endless breath. Rose petals to be the paint, As the petals never die, Nor shalt the day turn into night, God is the sun, the moon, The light. I'll gaze the foreign, strange Sights, being no less Important, I wilt sing With the flowers, as they'll appreciate my Purpose. ©lonesome poet's poetry ©Brandon nagley
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Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 6:27 PM UTC
An inexplicable soul, trapped behind bars of the flesh.
Why did you feel like you had to prove something to everyone? Innocence isn't bad you know. You were going to wait. But you were just so **** eager to prove your point. Perhaps a bit of it was spite. You felt over sheltered, so you overcompensated. You have bad hair and bad taste in boys. Still you shouldn't have broken up with him via text. Twice. Making the third time by phone call wasn't a bad idea. You have small ***** Get over it. Stop being so insecure. Do things by yourself. You’re prone to codependency and neediness is not a good look for you Invest in a pair of cute thigh highs. Delete your ****** blog. Get your eyebrows waxed (it doesn't hurt that bad). While I have your attention - **DON'T ******* FAIL CHEM!!!** You end up retaking it with the same teacher whose face resembles that of a rat. Enjoy being a social butterfly because it'll get old quick. Also beer is gross so you didn't miss much at parties. You'll grow into your skin.
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Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
letter to 16-year old me
In the wild free ghetto night Where would ya wanna be but here? With god and the angels and love so bright! I walk these streets in complete  awe I'll be here walkin in a thousand years •• Baby rockin in the cradle Cradle rockin on the window sill So very high above the street •• Hey hey mama here come Jesus Got a sack a loaves and fishes Jes for you •• Ain't lynched a cowboy from this tree in 100 years But it gotta couple a negroes back in '63 •• Help help!! I ain't suffering from affluenza & I need some bad ! •• My face ! And most a you ain't seen it! OH MY GOD! •• A street lamp is a beautiful symbol Of Somethin                                                        (Over there ----- In the dark By the alley where the stained old newspapers blow Round and round And little ragged boys curl up to sleep •• Star light star bright Thru the chem trails of the night •• I mean In the garden of Eden before the apple eatin Didn't adam at least think eve had a cute *** •• In college we were supposed to write an essay on the differences between bein a priest and a professional wrestler but I couldn't think a nothin •• In the wild free ghetto night Where would ya wanna be but here ? All the angels child bright God is seen on every EYE not afraid to shine or cry
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Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Snowflakes lightly on window panes
i think about the girls in my class; the one we have an inside joke with, tho we have nothing else in common; the one who plucks my eyebrows and asks me for advice and help with homework; the one who thinks i'm a nice person; the one to whom no one else is nice; the one who likes to hug me all the time and calls me a friend; the one who adores chanel and likes to talk to me sometimes and sits next to me in chem class; the one i used to be friends with but we fell out though we still talk sometimes. i think about the other girls from the golden five; the two who are inseparable and nice to me and understand me somehow; the one who shares my fandoms and i can vaguely call an actual friend; the one i grew up with who drools over tom hiddleston and sherlock and books with me. i think about my literature teacher who told me she loves me and about my english teacher who hugs me when she's proud of me. i think about all the other teachers who call me exceptional. i think about the boy who used to be my best friend for two years but we drifted apart and yet he'd still call me if he needed someone. ithink about the girl i stalk and whom i send sweet messages to. i think about T. whom i love dearly and V. whom i love dearly and N. whom i love dearly and M. whom i love dearly. i think about my sun and stars who breathes for me, my knight, my heart. i think about the boy i love and how even though he said goodbye he's "not indifferent" (and about a promise i made), and about his mother who adores me. i think about my mother who loves me the most about my father who calls me princess about my brother who pulls my hair. about my grandparents and aunt and cousin, about my mother's best friends. and then i ask myself "if all these people are going to cry if i happen to die, if all these people will lose sleep and scream into their pillows at night and ask themselves why, what does it matter that i don't love myself?"
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
reasons
i think about the girls in my class; the one we have an inside joke with, tho we have nothing else in common; the one who plucks my eyebrows and asks me for advice and help with homework; the one who thinks i'm a nice person; the one to whom no one else is nice; the one who likes to hug me all the time and calls me a friend; the one who adores chanel and likes to talk to me sometimes and sits next to me in chem class; the one i used to be friends with but we fell out though we still talk sometimes. i think about the other girls from the golden five; the two who are inseparable and nice to me and understand me somehow; the one who shares my fandoms and i can vaguely call an actual friend; the one i grew up with who drools over tom hiddleston and sherlock and books with me. i think about my literature teacher who told me she loves me and about my english teacher who hugs me when she's proud of me. i think about all the other teachers who call me exceptional. i think about the boy who used to be my best friend for two years but we drifted apart and yet he'd still call me if he needed someone. ithink about the girl i stalk and whom i send sweet messages to. i think about T. whom i love dearly and V. whom i love dearly and N. whom i love dearly and M. whom i love dearly. i think about my sun and stars who breathes for me, my knight, my heart. i think about the boy i love and how even though he said goodbye he's "not indifferent" (and about a promise i made), and about his mother who adores me. i think about my mother who loves me the most about my father who calls me princess about my brother who pulls my hair. about my grandparents and aunt and cousin, about my mother's best friends. and then i ask myself "if all these people are going to cry if i happen to die, if all these people will lose sleep and scream into their pillows at night and ask themselves why, what does it matter that i don't love myself?"
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109
We are strangers, strangers we remain, From distant worlds, apart we came. You call to me, I call to you, But silence answers, cutting through. You don’t know me, I don’t know you, Our thoughts diverge like morning dew. Alive we are, yet still we stare, As if from graves, from shadows there. I’m not your loss, nor you are mine, Like clouds, we drift through endless time. Wherever I go, wherever you’ll be, We’re at the edges, lost at sea. Yet yesterday felt near and bright— You held my hand; your voice was light. When love was endless, pure, and true, And I was me, and you were you. When whispers spoke of tender care, And hearts embraced in love’s repair. When vows were shared, no lies between, And strangers we had never been. I (Alternative translation) STRANGERS We are strangers, strangers through, From worlds apart, both old and new. I call to you, you call to me, Yet silence falls like waves at sea. You do not know me, nor I know you, Our thoughts like paths that never grew. Alive we stand, yet lost we seem, As if we lived within a dream. I do not miss you, nor you miss me, Two fleeting clouds the wind sets free. Where you may go, where I may roam, We’re at the edges, far from home. But yesterday, it feels so near, I held your hand, your voice sincere. When love was boundless, bold, and true, And I was me, and you were you. When whispers shared what hearts could feel, And hands embraced with love so real. When we were one, no space between, And strangers we had never been. II (Literal translation) STRANGERS We are strangers, strangers we remain, From different worlds we come. When you call me, when I call you, We cannot hear, we cannot hear. You do not know me, I do not know you, I have one thought, and you another. You are alive, and I am alive, But we look at each other as if from graves. I don’t miss you; you won’t miss me, We are two clouds driven by the wind. Wherever I am, wherever you are, We are at the edges of the earth. But, it seems, yesterday there was a day, You remember it; I remember it, too, When we could not stop loving each other, Believing we would love forever. When I whispered how dear you were, And we held each other’s hands with love, When you told me that you loved me, And we were not strangers at all. III (Original poem, Romanian) STRĂINI Suntem străini, străini suntem, Din diferite lumi venim. Când tu mă chemi, când eu te chem Nu ne-auzim, nu ne-auzim. Tu nu mă ştii, eu nu te ştiu, Un gând am eu şi tu alt gând. Eşti vie tu şi eu sunt viu, Dar ne privim ca din mormânt. Eu nu-ţi lipsesc, tu nu-mi lipseşti, Suntem doi nori mânaţi de vânt. Oriunde-aş fi, oriunde eşti, Suntem la margini de pământ. Dar, parcă ieri, a fost o zi, Ţii minte tu, ţin minte eu, Când nu-ncetam a ne iubi, Crezînd că ne-om iubi mereu. Când îţi şopteam ce dragă-mi eşti Şi ne strângeam cu drag de mâini, Când îmi spuneai că mă iubeşti Şi nu eram deloc străini.
0
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 3:36 PM UTC
Strangers
We are strangers, strangers we remain, From distant worlds, apart we came. You call to me, I call to you, But silence answers, cutting through. You don’t know me, I don’t know you, Our thoughts diverge like morning dew. Alive we are, yet still we stare, As if from graves, from shadows there. I’m not your loss, nor you are mine, Like clouds, we drift through endless time. Wherever I go, wherever you’ll be, We’re at the edges, lost at sea. Yet yesterday felt near and bright— You held my hand; your voice was light. When love was endless, pure, and true, And I was me, and you were you. When whispers spoke of tender care, And hearts embraced in love’s repair. When vows were shared, no lies between, And strangers we had never been. I (Alternative translation) STRANGERS We are strangers, strangers through, From worlds apart, both old and new. I call to you, you call to me, Yet silence falls like waves at sea. You do not know me, nor I know you, Our thoughts like paths that never grew. Alive we stand, yet lost we seem, As if we lived within a dream. I do not miss you, nor you miss me, Two fleeting clouds the wind sets free. Where you may go, where I may roam, We’re at the edges, far from home. But yesterday, it feels so near, I held your hand, your voice sincere. When love was boundless, bold, and true, And I was me, and you were you. When whispers shared what hearts could feel, And hands embraced with love so real. When we were one, no space between, And strangers we had never been. II (Literal translation) STRANGERS We are strangers, strangers we remain, From different worlds we come. When you call me, when I call you, We cannot hear, we cannot hear. You do not know me, I do not know you, I have one thought, and you another. You are alive, and I am alive, But we look at each other as if from graves. I don’t miss you; you won’t miss me, We are two clouds driven by the wind. Wherever I am, wherever you are, We are at the edges of the earth. But, it seems, yesterday there was a day, You remember it; I remember it, too, When we could not stop loving each other, Believing we would love forever. When I whispered how dear you were, And we held each other’s hands with love, When you told me that you loved me, And we were not strangers at all. III (Original poem, Romanian) STRĂINI Suntem străini, străini suntem, Din diferite lumi venim. Când tu mă chemi, când eu te chem Nu ne-auzim, nu ne-auzim. Tu nu mă ştii, eu nu te ştiu, Un gând am eu şi tu alt gând. Eşti vie tu şi eu sunt viu, Dar ne privim ca din mormânt. Eu nu-ţi lipsesc, tu nu-mi lipseşti, Suntem doi nori mânaţi de vânt. Oriunde-aş fi, oriunde eşti, Suntem la margini de pământ. Dar, parcă ieri, a fost o zi, Ţii minte tu, ţin minte eu, Când nu-ncetam a ne iubi, Crezînd că ne-om iubi mereu. Când îţi şopteam ce dragă-mi eşti Şi ne strângeam cu drag de mâini, Când îmi spuneai că mă iubeşti Şi nu eram deloc străini.
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89
Slats Salts I have Salt Salt Salt Salt Salty Salt for Chem
0
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
Hmm Uh
They say we’ll get a hurricane, that they’re calling hurricane Lee. Probably later this week, and it’s a category 9 at least. Some are saying prayers, but I say: Why’s God sending it here? Someone must be sinning a LOT. Hey, don’t look at me - I’m not. You’d think that would affect our classes, that maybe we’d get hazzard passes, for assignments that are due, but nope, it isn’t true. “I don’t want to hear excuses,” my chem professor said, “the only acceptable excuse is, that you’re dead.”
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Sep 11, 2023
Sep 11, 2023 at 1:50 PM UTC
hurricane Lee
in "tolerable condition'" i wander... ....amongst homeless people and stars paved roads Golden (dental fillings flashing) big ******* ......f--cking horselike and gilded laughter strained people (ornamental) CORPORATION ..........................................wars if i was a black man ..................nee ***** ......................nee "niggra" ............ ..............................nee "human being" ................................................... ............................. (if i was) as alien space/time ships golden with Gold ...........................money ..........................nee "mammon" .......................nee"evil" ...............nee "devil" float serenely complacent like .....................chem-trails like .......................politicians like ..............televisiom like ...dope thru our VANITY ---------- ---------- ---------- enough! no mas! bulls--t! bulls--t!! bulls--t!!! enogh! no mas! BULLS--T nuclear explosions explode core of being LIGHT REAL NOW ------- YOU!!!!!! come from out the glory of a tongue up your ***** into the world
0
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 10:41 AM UTC
...in.....
Cover my nakedness Forget any truths Let me not have questions Or freedom Sacrifice me from thought Implant me in false religion Give me politics to argue And stare at others in envy Let us photograph French deities And live in corporate stress Please take away my family And keep the twenty four hour drugstores Rain down with chem trails And I will believe area fifty one is not there's Hide in fables Suppress true knowledge Let philosophy become an aborted word And abort those who can't afford your tax Hunt down free thinkers How dare them How dare them question The cowards that sold the world
0
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
Cover my nakedness
Spraying chem trails Aluminum and Barium too The globalists hate me and you! Turn off the television The flicker rate Designed to keep you in a hypnotized state Making you more susceptible To buy products From obnoxious ads Tune in to real life Americans
0
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
A Poem
Guess you gotta be wealthy to be healthy this world ain't healthy blue eyes tell lies genetic defect reptiles in disguises Chem trails in the sky explotin diamond African minds watch out for them suit and ties
0
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
X
It's that time of the year again Our politicians put on a new persona Nothing new compared to the previous gimmick Decade old cliched stuff, on the repeat. A costly road ahead with a hefty expense Back-channels, bargains and deals , none can comprehend Funding is secured, the plans are now been drawn Delegation to the foot-soldiers, with ease and control The demography and previous trends have all been accounted War-rooms being set up, as the arsenal needs to be surmounted. Minute by minute, hour by hour The ***** games and abuse of power Horse trading has begun, The influential will re-run Money, honey or even the hard ways Just break the loyalty and build pathways Media Cells activated on the double Spitting venom and creating trouble Plethora of photoshops and planted stories Peddling narratives, worst than conspiracy theories. Meanwhile on the ground, a different game being played The pawns as usual disillusioned and dismayed Onslaught begins - First phase division Divide by nationality, status or religion Hate-mongering and fear-mongering No holds barred Political-correctness and propaganda not that far apart All kind of theatrics have been put to use Needless to discount the petty rhetoric and all the abuse Both left and right wing ideologies hand-crafted to look cool To trap the gullible and make them drool And nationalistic pride sprayed like chem-trails Beyond jingoism, everything else fails Morality and conscience have vanished into thin air Utopian lands being promised, as if almost here. The voter's are intelligent, they keep reiterating It's just a bait though, to lure them for voting But then again, what is the voter supposed to do? Greater evil or lesser evil are the choices to make Can it get any worst, is his obvious take Confusion, delusion and a hasty decision made Now crib, cry, swear and the same blame game Cometh the next election, its the same game play The vicious cycle repeats Politicians are back to deceive and cheat. Alright! Been there, done that To err is human they say Well! Guess what? I'll willfully repeat that!
0
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
It's Election Time
It's that time of the year again Our politicians put on a new persona Nothing new compared to the previous gimmick Decade old cliched stuff, on the repeat. A costly road ahead with a hefty expense Back-channels, bargains and deals , none can comprehend Funding is secured, the plans are now been drawn Delegation to the foot-soldiers, with ease and control The demography and previous trends have all been accounted War-rooms being set up, as the arsenal needs to be surmounted. Minute by minute, hour by hour The ***** games and abuse of power Horse trading has begun, The influential will re-run Money, honey or even the hard ways Just break the loyalty and build pathways Media Cells activated on the double Spitting venom and creating trouble Plethora of photoshops and planted stories Peddling narratives, worst than conspiracy theories. Meanwhile on the ground, a different game being played The pawns as usual disillusioned and dismayed Onslaught begins - First phase division Divide by nationality, status or religion Hate-mongering and fear-mongering No holds barred Political-correctness and propaganda not that far apart All kind of theatrics have been put to use Needless to discount the petty rhetoric and all the abuse Both left and right wing ideologies hand-crafted to look cool To trap the gullible and make them drool And nationalistic pride sprayed like chem-trails Beyond jingoism, everything else fails Morality and conscience have vanished into thin air Utopian lands being promised, as if almost here. The voter's are intelligent, they keep reiterating It's just a bait though, to lure them for voting But then again, what is the voter supposed to do? Greater evil or lesser evil are the choices to make Can it get any worst, is his obvious take Confusion, delusion and a hasty decision made Now crib, cry, swear and the same blame game Cometh the next election, its the same game play The vicious cycle repeats Politicians are back to deceive and cheat. Alright! Been there, done that To err is human they say Well! Guess what? I'll willfully repeat that!
Continue reading...
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. ... depression ( ny city street --) The homeless veteran ! Nah ! He ain't gonna be no policeman ! )( The subtle abuse ( The way anyone talks at all ) •• are THEY really trying to **** us with chem-trails ! // CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT •• Oh For some human dignity <> Some idiots believe in god Some idiots don't But why do we care what idiots think (?) //// Some hello poetry babes Say they believe in love ! // But They're only the lonely ! ( Roy Orbison ) )( )( Yeah Human dignity ! /// The true communion The marriage with the stars ..
0
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
:: ... in the name of human dignity