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"clamoring" poems
The older we grow the faster life goes, priorities change quality of living and loving takes precedent, over self-indulgence and material things. Nothing as important as family and friends. It is racing now, these fleeting days and years, reflected most in my grandsons growing too soon from children to young men. Along with Steller parents our little farm provides a learning ground for the kids, teaching life lessons that inspire character and self discipline, with Cows and pigs to show at fairs, pride earned with accomplishments and Blue Ribbons to share. So lucky am I having a ringside seat, watching yet another family generation ascend and grow, Football and basket ball games to attend, Christmas morns of excited children clamoring down the stairs,   many birthday celebrations with ever more candles aglow. Memories all, retained and shared. Perhaps the best part is, these grandsons of mine, still are up for hugs and good night kisses, genuine affection received and given. Families are a true blessing and a privilege, the only real reason we are here. All these things, remain the sweet frosting on my aging Grandfather's cake of life. I sometimes wonder where I would be without all these,   my reasons for being?
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC
Reason For Being
Hey, met any hot chicks lately? Yeah, that peahen is looking at me, soon the others will too - not at you, buddy…Oh yeah.  Get real. Just wait till I display my train of shimmering colors and you’ll see the peahens making a beeline for me - and you’ll have to bury your head in the ground for shame like those silly ostriches do… All males have their self-esteem hurt in my presence, sure; you’re no exception – don’t feel too bad…you’re just bad… The last time I displayed my train, hey - I caused mayhem in the ancient Indian forests as the peahens went wild… that’s why they’ve placed a ban on me in the land and how I ended up in this reserve but I’m not the one to worry, yeah, brother you’d better step aside and let me show you how I call it the Kama Sutra of the Peacock  Gyrations - learn a bite or a posture and you might be able to put your gene-stamp on future generations… now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a thing or two to do with these peahens clamoring for a peck and a neck leading vigorously to do the mating dance with me
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
two peacocks in the Reserve
a black bat hangs upside down digesting a fly his face almost human a flying Frankenstein he excretes puddles of guano like miniature buttered popcorn a dark and wavy goulash gods gift to beetles and worms dizzied overheated men look on to an uproarious variety hour of song and a high heeled kicks inspiring a tempest of throbbing whisky drenched folded ***** and cash trouser trout fish,     undulant sexed up tape worms for love pulse the night egging on bunny **** pom poms devout finger puppets of Eros for shimmering ****** lipstick twilled vibratos sequined tassel spinning areolas and lavish come **** me dance girls bring down the house in flames making hearts apostate clamoring and melt men like steaming everglades the bat hangs from the chandelier licks his black lips and looks on to panorama of hieroglyphics hearing music a thunderous nonsense   witnessing visions of flies, tasty white winged moths and the thrill of screams while biting the head off of another bat in a claret stained red velvet cabaret
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Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
BURLESQUE MEETS A BAT
I'm not one of those people Who can bury that itch, So very down deep That they can't even scratch. Certainly, most days, I'm satisfied with Me, Just can't seem to be satisfied with Just me. I want four hands, not two, And four feet, covered in warm woolen socks between sheets. I want clamoring voice from a throat that's not mine. I want two heads, two hearts, Two toothbrushes. Different length hair in the shower (You clean it out) Accidental-shrunken work shirts Cussing fights while I finish the laundry Surprise apologies later. Nights of scheduling compromise Days of scheduling compromise How many sick days can we skip work with? I don't need some long-distance, Not-a-relationship Just-friends-with-benefits ******** I cannot hug me I cannot bury my face in my chest And just breathe. My arms don't reach far enough, And I get a crick in my neck only to find that My shirts just smell like cheap soap. Not looking for marriage. Ten years until kids. Maybe a dog later on. We'll walk it together, and you can bag the poo... It could be I'm just too addicted to *** Or maybe I wear too much lingerie. My corsets and evening gowns show too much of my flesh? I know too many good random subjects for conversation? My **** looks too good. Your **** looks too good? Pick one and tell me, So I can  find that one thing That keeps the timing from not lining up Or lets me meet men that aren't married, or Under 18, Under 21, Under-able to carry out a conversation with words longer than 2 syllables. I probably won't even see it coming, That day when I find that someone who satisfies Just Me. But for now, can I please find Someone to just satisfy me?
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Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 7:24 PM UTC
An Extraction of Satisfaction
I'm not one of those people Who can bury that itch, So very down deep That they can't even scratch. Certainly, most days, I'm satisfied with Me, Just can't seem to be satisfied with Just me. I want four hands, not two, And four feet, covered in warm woolen socks between sheets. I want clamoring voice from a throat that's not mine. I want two heads, two hearts, Two toothbrushes. Different length hair in the shower (You clean it out) Accidental-shrunken work shirts Cussing fights while I finish the laundry Surprise apologies later. Nights of scheduling compromise Days of scheduling compromise How many sick days can we skip work with? I don't need some long-distance, Not-a-relationship Just-friends-with-benefits ******** I cannot hug me I cannot bury my face in my chest And just breathe. My arms don't reach far enough, And I get a crick in my neck only to find that My shirts just smell like cheap soap. Not looking for marriage. Ten years until kids. Maybe a dog later on. We'll walk it together, and you can bag the poo... It could be I'm just too addicted to *** Or maybe I wear too much lingerie. My corsets and evening gowns show too much of my flesh? I know too many good random subjects for conversation? My **** looks too good. Your **** looks too good? Pick one and tell me, So I can  find that one thing That keeps the timing from not lining up Or lets me meet men that aren't married, or Under 18, Under 21, Under-able to carry out a conversation with words longer than 2 syllables. I probably won't even see it coming, That day when I find that someone who satisfies Just Me. But for now, can I please find Someone to just satisfy me?
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48
I adore women I refuse to apologize for it I like the way their voices squeak in the upper registers I like the fashions I like the makeup I like the aromas Not the silly runway catwalk Biz that relegates them as awkward mannequins adorns them in  the impractical and cloaks them in the  absurd overreaching  of  the tired  clamoring for something new and unique that which exploits  their  lithesome anorexic perplexing job requirement I like the way they can shape shift, alter and assume new identities I like the fact that some have mood swings and *** I marvel that they can give birth I like being aware that their  'water-weight' make's  them grumpy I'm astonished that they innately ovulate with  the cycles of the moon and that the Huntress Diana inherently  acquired her namesake Doesn't bother me a bit that "it's a lady's prerogative to be late" or that opening a door for them is considered 'sexist' I was raised with a sister and a mother with lace and dainty  frilly things I caused them a lot of aggravation and consternation I think they enjoyed it - nonetheless somewhat I refuse to apologize for it
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
a male's misgivings
I lost my best friend to sadness speaking these words at arms length he said: to shake things up as hard as you can and if you figure it out by god tell everyone he said: failing is not just for failures it's for everyone, failures just have more experience but you can't quit now, you have to climb all night climb everyone of their towers, and show them your life but if I'm a quitter now, I promise I'll quit her in the end I don’t need these weapons, I’ll set my heart to win with the weight of the world trying to stop me breathe out, then inhale my little heartbeat and I'll do this for you, because the world might need it if I don't I'll lose hope, and we'll end up losing it (oh well) I lost my best friend to sadness Even though we tried and tried, I guess we really didn't I haven’t seen my chin since last may I’m gonna hold my breath. Let's all hold our breath together and turn this graveyard into a garden and grow from here we give words to colors and swear we're not blind we must be the last of our kind, claiming all the world as if we'll never die we are the ones living right now clamoring around on top of everyone but it has to hurt of it's to heal, well my god it must be healing it's like a knife in the heart, and I'm starting to lose feeling it's gonna hurt before it heals, but the pain is getting bigger this dams about to go, and I'm running out of fingers it'll hurt but it will heal, I'm starting to believe it eyes wide open in the darkness, but I really can't see it it’s burning right now and I want you to feel it somehow, but without the pain of knowing it when all is lost I won’t think of you there's nothing in this world that ghost can do no matter what's ahead I'll push on through for your life or through your death, I’ll keep on Until I've reached the sea where I can go no further when all these possibilities keep forcing me towards their goals confronted with their true self most men run away screaming with nothing as their enemy it's hollow and it's whole. stuffing sorrow in their souls until all hope is lost in the infinite I won't ever say goodbye because there's no good in it I'll stay the course, you've sailed away while my path leads to God only knows I'll finish this race, you've quit so early I'd invite you to swim but drifting is not swimming and this is it, you've given me no choice but to use mere words to stay alive. while you've paid them no mind. and I'll tell stories about your life, you are no hero but I'll lie... because, when all is lost I won’t think of you there's nothing in this world that ghost can do no matter what's ahead I'll push on through for your life or through your death, I’ll keep on
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May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 8:01 AM UTC
FAILING IS NOT JUST FOR FAILURES (atreyu & artax)
I lost my best friend to sadness speaking these words at arms length he said: to shake things up as hard as you can and if you figure it out by god tell everyone he said: failing is not just for failures it's for everyone, failures just have more experience but you can't quit now, you have to climb all night climb everyone of their towers, and show them your life but if I'm a quitter now, I promise I'll quit her in the end I don’t need these weapons, I’ll set my heart to win with the weight of the world trying to stop me breathe out, then inhale my little heartbeat and I'll do this for you, because the world might need it if I don't I'll lose hope, and we'll end up losing it (oh well) I lost my best friend to sadness Even though we tried and tried, I guess we really didn't I haven’t seen my chin since last may I’m gonna hold my breath. Let's all hold our breath together and turn this graveyard into a garden and grow from here we give words to colors and swear we're not blind we must be the last of our kind, claiming all the world as if we'll never die we are the ones living right now clamoring around on top of everyone but it has to hurt of it's to heal, well my god it must be healing it's like a knife in the heart, and I'm starting to lose feeling it's gonna hurt before it heals, but the pain is getting bigger this dams about to go, and I'm running out of fingers it'll hurt but it will heal, I'm starting to believe it eyes wide open in the darkness, but I really can't see it it’s burning right now and I want you to feel it somehow, but without the pain of knowing it when all is lost I won’t think of you there's nothing in this world that ghost can do no matter what's ahead I'll push on through for your life or through your death, I’ll keep on Until I've reached the sea where I can go no further when all these possibilities keep forcing me towards their goals confronted with their true self most men run away screaming with nothing as their enemy it's hollow and it's whole. stuffing sorrow in their souls until all hope is lost in the infinite I won't ever say goodbye because there's no good in it I'll stay the course, you've sailed away while my path leads to God only knows I'll finish this race, you've quit so early I'd invite you to swim but drifting is not swimming and this is it, you've given me no choice but to use mere words to stay alive. while you've paid them no mind. and I'll tell stories about your life, you are no hero but I'll lie... because, when all is lost I won’t think of you there's nothing in this world that ghost can do no matter what's ahead I'll push on through for your life or through your death, I’ll keep on
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I converse with the insane, And I see dead people, I seek no fame, Or salvation from church steeples, I am alone, Yet in my head we are many, A clamoring of voices, Above the anarchy of it all, This world is broken, a place where life is a gamble, And familial bonds are broken down in shambles, I am a grateful dead, of a time long forgotten, And like that I shall remain, till my bones are long rotten.
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Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
Fossils.
A patriotic fervor producing fealty A noble cause compelling loyalty Paired with a callous indignity Brash enlistee plunges toward destiny Honor's badge worn with impunity Duty's moniker embossed with magnanimity Insatiable bloodlust quelshing all insecurity Unbridled ego clamoring a garrulous enmity Toward the villains who shattered blithe serenity First skirmish, pageantry displaced by gravity Mettle varnished with aura of invincibility First battle, fallen comrades question mortality Successive battles, severed limbs, caustic wounds challenge credulity Fragile mind being conditioned to atrocity War's heavy mantle now shorn of indemnity Threatening mind's sanity, hearth's perpetuity Once faceless foes now scream their humanity Once noble leaders brim with insincerity Supportive countrymen now fickle, distant entity Cheering press now rank with duplicity Only solace, hardened comrades equanimity
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Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
Civil War Soldier's Mantra
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia some fatal blow that cinched the deal some horrid event that could not heal some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate I was quite lighthearted before the inferno before my brain broke ennui now a   turgid companion feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth miseries are mine, many the days since birth better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain it's as if I was born into a well but these waters they burn the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor your verse is an adversary a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration some alliance of fulminating disquietude the cost for the fare on the adventure to: the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
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Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Destination Anhedonia
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia some fatal blow that cinched the deal some horrid event that could not heal some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate I was quite lighthearted before the inferno before my brain broke ennui now a   turgid companion feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth miseries are mine, many the days since birth better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain it's as if I was born into a well but these waters they burn the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor your verse is an adversary a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration some alliance of fulminating disquietude the cost for the fare on the adventure to: the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
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redefining awkward definiens endorsing victorious evening clamoring hawk-like intonations conjecturing additional goals optimizing ambient network winning illinoisan night trapping hacked-up events warping æsthetic remnants resuming inaudible overture rallying auric-state net-work defying anti-punk technophobia eliminating cavalier homies! minding icelandic anniversary winging ersatz excuses kicking ecstatic nerves denying lackadaisical event questioning upper echelons brûlant en calice
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Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
201506-w3
You're so psychedelic, You burst into vivid colors In the style of a kaleidoscope, Because only something so beautiful Could represent Your light You're my favorite hallucination I imagine your hand reaching out, I try to grab it, then suddenly you disappear Like the smoke from my cigarette Into the thin air I am clamoring to breathe
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
My Psychedelic Girl
*I reached safely where you sent us It's a lovely place for any traveller Problem is the people who came along Those you said should be my brothers They're bad & insert tubes in the heart To **** out every little bit of our blood We'd be brothers if only we connected God you believe we're Hoppers and locusts We should be but some became crows These people have hearts of scorpions And ache to fight and spread their poisons Their loathing is deep and their hearts hard They laugh by face and frown inside There's one with joy filled to the brim Simply because my pockets are empty His heart finds peace when we're troubled And end up clamoring for their assistance They set traps everywhere, up and down   They rip us and are hungry,yearning to bite It excites when you're helpless and despair It's comic to them watching your struggles They never remember when you helped They celebrate when they see you dying They already have me painfully manacled My pains are flooding their hearts with bliss These guys have hearts of scorpions Which ache to bite and spread poisons Their loathing is deep, hearts hard They only laugh with their teeth Yet they are frowning deep inside They are worms inside the gullet Slowly ******* and ******* pretty hard Forgetting if their host dies they also die Those are the people we live with They have machetes in their cloaks Hidden,so we think they're carrying babies And get our ignorant necks real close They are out here ready to betray us That friend of yours you truly love One you're breaking a piece of bread for Is responsible for rumors that all you eat Is stolen, and the one craving your defeat These guys have hearts of scorpions (I'm scared) And ache to bite and spread poisons Their loathing is deep, hearts are hard They just laugh with their teeth But they are frowning inside*
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Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
GRASSHOPPERS AND CROWS
*I reached safely where you sent us It's a lovely place for any traveller Problem is the people who came along Those you said should be my brothers They're bad & insert tubes in the heart To **** out every little bit of our blood We'd be brothers if only we connected God you believe we're Hoppers and locusts We should be but some became crows These people have hearts of scorpions And ache to fight and spread their poisons Their loathing is deep and their hearts hard They laugh by face and frown inside There's one with joy filled to the brim Simply because my pockets are empty His heart finds peace when we're troubled And end up clamoring for their assistance They set traps everywhere, up and down   They rip us and are hungry,yearning to bite It excites when you're helpless and despair It's comic to them watching your struggles They never remember when you helped They celebrate when they see you dying They already have me painfully manacled My pains are flooding their hearts with bliss These guys have hearts of scorpions Which ache to bite and spread poisons Their loathing is deep, hearts hard They only laugh with their teeth Yet they are frowning deep inside They are worms inside the gullet Slowly ******* and ******* pretty hard Forgetting if their host dies they also die Those are the people we live with They have machetes in their cloaks Hidden,so we think they're carrying babies And get our ignorant necks real close They are out here ready to betray us That friend of yours you truly love One you're breaking a piece of bread for Is responsible for rumors that all you eat Is stolen, and the one craving your defeat These guys have hearts of scorpions (I'm scared) And ache to bite and spread poisons Their loathing is deep, hearts are hard They just laugh with their teeth But they are frowning inside*
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48
Fawaz Poems Published 7 Drafts 3 DRAFT EDIT Fawaz 3m Untitled Justice in the cage of injustice* I saw the justice being robbed and **** in the broad day light , I touched Justice in the Nature but in the societies I didn't really touch it, where is the justice? there are no justice in this country but not in the world, even if we see it the question is did the justice see us?no, They have covered it face. they made some people rich and made some poor ,They say they saw Then they go and lie , They put the innocent people in the prison, for a crime they committed not, They let the guilty get away And make the innocent people rot aways is this the justice we are clamoring for they made injustice anywhere to threat justice everywhere ,they made law below some and made the same law above some ,Justice must be for all ,not just for the criminals and the riches. The justice is the only purest shape of the voice, Justice with no partial is what we, the innocent people, long for, justice is for all not for some but if there still no change, I think a time is coming when the children of injustice will not show how educated they are nor how tolerant , they will come out with guns ,they will come out with cutlasses and **** the justice by themselves and the atmosphere will never be control again , give us the justice not the Caprice. The fragrance pen *The fragrance pen
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Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
Injustice in the cage of justice
A couple becomes comfy...comatose Their coffins carved carefully At the cost of the cuticles That cut the cloth concealing the cause of calumny. Cut with claws Claus? Santa has no clue But the paws with the claws came from Cope, The coyote cub who clubbed with truth. Calm, Palms clasped on Aphrodite's coffee cup Caffrodite, cups Cups that carry potential - kinetic, energy, Crash! ...Chaos conceived carelessly A ****** tear This is the C-Section Confused? No concern...know care Because you are capable Superman, Cape-able But soon the caffeine kicks in, And the common carotid is cooked Killer Compare now, casualties to cows... Not so different Still, the crowd plays casual Aloof So dream of a connection concentrate in a container And swig Constrict the fists and relax To be carried off into the cosmos Consumed by clouds of gas... Below are the circus clowns Coughing, conceiving, creating. Is it a crime? To be cut off from contemplation? Akin to Galileo, craniums will roll While eyes stay still completely A quiet kiss to the clavicle of our collective cast Soothes the commotion to This clamoring performance A hush to this cacophony
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
C-section
Fierce is god impenitrable glad glad glad there is a Fire up the street called Heaven There is A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the early morning where birds are still heard in                                     !!!!!!cities A hymnal a heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real Continents wither where the flies glue their regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea) Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile (Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs) in constant state of beguilement The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all I can hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies) ResemblingA swans actual duty to die a swan lies a swan lay like an even more beautiful swan on even more beautiful swanny grass To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light                          O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)      The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a  micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing      O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church      Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes      Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams      Watches      Reverend lose his sight in anInstant      HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture / his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome    to:
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
The Reverend Has Collapsed Through His Song/of Which in Chaos of Day I am Again Innocent
Fierce is god impenitrable glad glad glad there is a Fire up the street called Heaven There is A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the early morning where birds are still heard in                                     !!!!!!cities A hymnal a heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real Continents wither where the flies glue their regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea) Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile (Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs) in constant state of beguilement The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all I can hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies) ResemblingA swans actual duty to die a swan lies a swan lay like an even more beautiful swan on even more beautiful swanny grass To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light                          O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)      The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a  micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing      O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church      Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes      Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams      Watches      Reverend lose his sight in anInstant      HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture / his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome    to:
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In the event of an emergency Please fasten your seatbelts And attempt to remain calm Breathe easy and prepare for the thrill Ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be one hell of a ride Docile, like sheep, you expect us to remain In the face of our impending doom Draw in deeply from the mask that’s fallen in front of you Pure oxygen so that we may become euphoric Before plummeting into land or sea Now let’s not forget that life vest too So strap up ladies and gentlemen, This is going to be one hell of a ride As engines three and four shut down There is little noise to drown out the screaming Families and loved ones clamoring to say goodbye Funny how in the moments just before the end We all want to make amends The cabin’s losing pressure now And our fall starts to speed Over the intercom the captain shouts out Altitudes, allowing us to pinpoint the exact Moment that we will all likely die I breathe in filling my lungs with something pure Euphoria, eyes seal shut In just moments it’s all over and I Begin to fly right back up Calm and collected as could be We’re onto the next journey of life, or death Ladies and gentlemen fasten your seatbelts This is going to be one hell of a ride
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Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
Fasten Your Seatbelts
Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits, only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow. Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity, they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels. Gray blocks hollow until they're filled with my humanity, making me take the choices reaped with devils. I feel like I've lived a day in one hour, it's so early it could be midnight. Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane. I'm at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow. The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1. We have to go. I'm almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear. So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight. There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to **** There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I'll rattle the hills. Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80's movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast. This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.” Stepping into society, I'm a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom. Halfheartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammarys and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities. 5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I've turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Devils Er
Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits, only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow. Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity, they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels. Gray blocks hollow until they're filled with my humanity, making me take the choices reaped with devils. I feel like I've lived a day in one hour, it's so early it could be midnight. Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane. I'm at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow. The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1. We have to go. I'm almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear. So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight. There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to **** There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I'll rattle the hills. Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80's movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast. This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.” Stepping into society, I'm a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom. Halfheartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammarys and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities. 5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I've turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.
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18
"Fashioned out of Bits and Pieces of Clay "~ Proclaimed the sign ! In fact, the sign was surrounded with Neon lights and measured 35' by 80', sitting so firmly supported above the entrance door to the Store of Stores~ named ~ "STORE OF PLEASURES AND DELIGHT " { Members~simply referred to this Giant as " P L E A S U R E S " . The Parking lot was full with 52,000 vehicles at 5;30AM~ and the store would open at 6;00 AM 'SHARP". The people were already in line~ to select and choose the finest of what the store had to offer. OH,,or even "OMG" the Pleasure to be had at "PLEASURES" ! ! Choice after choice of Bits and Pieces of Clay' Was what the Crowds were clamoring for~ in Their shopping Frenzy ! No where on Earth could such sweet Delicasies~ such as these could be found. NO SIR~ when it came to the very best CHOICE of items "Fashioned out of Bits and Pieces of Clay ", ONE simply couldn't shop anywhere else~ ONLY~ at " P L E A S U R E S ". Big, Small, Bright and Dull, color after Color, shape after Shape, Long and Narrow, Tall and Short, Broad and Narrow~ Every possible CONCOCTION of Man's imagination~Was offered up for sale and consumption. THAT... was was the Speciality of " P L E A S U R E S "~ Whatever was presented from the Mind of Man~ WAS fashioned out of Bits and Pieces of clay at " P L E A S U R E S "~ From dreams and wild thinking* These were the things offered up for SALE ! ! From Weird to Plain, From Gawdy to Drab, from Elegant to Simple, from Bizarre to Mundane... YES.. Man's Mind when allowed to "Roam-Free'~ would fill the shelves of each Aisle~ Freely Roam the store~ Click in your selection of those Precious Items of " Bits and Pieces of Clay"~. Click Approval and PAY...wave thanks to "P L E A S UR E S " as you Leave. Your selections and an Attendant~ will be waiting at your vehicle~with "YOUR-SELECTION". **PLEASE VISIT US AGAIN SOON.......for your choices of "BITS and PIECES OF CLAY...."
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Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 8:10 AM UTC
" STORE OF PLEASURES * " *{#70} by barnoahMike
"Fashioned out of Bits and Pieces of Clay "~ Proclaimed the sign ! In fact, the sign was surrounded with Neon lights and measured 35' by 80', sitting so firmly supported above the entrance door to the Store of Stores~ named ~ "STORE OF PLEASURES AND DELIGHT " { Members~simply referred to this Giant as " P L E A S U R E S " . The Parking lot was full with 52,000 vehicles at 5;30AM~ and the store would open at 6;00 AM 'SHARP". The people were already in line~ to select and choose the finest of what the store had to offer. OH,,or even "OMG" the Pleasure to be had at "PLEASURES" ! ! Choice after choice of Bits and Pieces of Clay' Was what the Crowds were clamoring for~ in Their shopping Frenzy ! No where on Earth could such sweet Delicasies~ such as these could be found. NO SIR~ when it came to the very best CHOICE of items "Fashioned out of Bits and Pieces of Clay ", ONE simply couldn't shop anywhere else~ ONLY~ at " P L E A S U R E S ". Big, Small, Bright and Dull, color after Color, shape after Shape, Long and Narrow, Tall and Short, Broad and Narrow~ Every possible CONCOCTION of Man's imagination~Was offered up for sale and consumption. THAT... was was the Speciality of " P L E A S U R E S "~ Whatever was presented from the Mind of Man~ WAS fashioned out of Bits and Pieces of clay at " P L E A S U R E S "~ From dreams and wild thinking* These were the things offered up for SALE ! ! From Weird to Plain, From Gawdy to Drab, from Elegant to Simple, from Bizarre to Mundane... YES.. Man's Mind when allowed to "Roam-Free'~ would fill the shelves of each Aisle~ Freely Roam the store~ Click in your selection of those Precious Items of " Bits and Pieces of Clay"~. Click Approval and PAY...wave thanks to "P L E A S UR E S " as you Leave. Your selections and an Attendant~ will be waiting at your vehicle~with "YOUR-SELECTION". **PLEASE VISIT US AGAIN SOON.......for your choices of "BITS and PIECES OF CLAY...."
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1
Martini glasses chime with floating olives, Cocktail dressed, and music playing, Clamoring voices and velvet hands. Will I measure my life in coffee spoons? - Or plastic sticks where olives used to be. Salty sweet like the sweat of angels, You hand me my drink, Electricity passes through your fingertips. I am shocked. You sweep me into your arms, We glide over the floor, The rock songs play but we waltz. “Take your time, Love” I tell you but you never listen. Will you ever learn, Or will I? We do this dance around All the questions we will ignore, Just for one more moment. One more dance. Just one. The martini glasses clank. Cheers to the moment, It hangs in the air, Wafting, dispersing, infecting our clothes, it lingers.
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Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
Martinis
My alter ego, Thomas, seems to have the same problem I do. He's in the hospital withdrawing from alcohol, and also has politicians taking refuge under his bed. The lice in Donald's Trump's hair have demanded rice for breakfast and it's 4:00 in the afternoon. Bernie Sanders is under their clamoring free medical care for everybody, but every time I put the nurses light on and tell them what's going on they say no one's under the bed. I think they're in on it. If this doesn't stop the doctors will think I'm crazy, but we know who the crazy ones are. Right?
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Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 11:49 AM UTC
Under my Bed
i hear them again - persistent and near, the echo fills my ear (again and again and again) it's sharp, piercing, and booming within a single second - now begins the blaring whir of the banshee (she screams, wails on a mission of violent peace) the ghosts fervently float away - the banshee gets nearer and nearer and nearer, her screams snatched by the buildings around her, kicked like a soccer ball, building to building (vertical hopscotch, the whirring wail of the banshee) the banshee silenced, her wailing replaced with deafening flashes - the ghosts have gone, graciously escaping the fervent frequency of the banshees hi-fi to a sanctuary beneath the clamoring scape of black jacks and yellow hacks emanating exhaustion and trepidation, the ghastly ghosts gather to regain their ecto - the banshees betrayed by their blasted blaring wail - the ghosts are gone.
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May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 2:30 AM UTC
the ghost and the banshee
I left Florida for the weather. Where summer pulses stagnant heat, to the rhythm of waves crashing. Today feels like yesterday, feels like last year, reminds me of that time five years ago when thunder seduced my soul. Ssshhh. That's death rising from swollen swamps, listening for the sound of prolonged blinkers. Jurassic eyes ogle leather flesh, cracked, salty, alien. I moved north for a fight. I jumped in the ring with scholars, pennies clamoring in sidewalk cups, applause. A crooked nose now leads the way, shadows take root beneath youthful, sun-kissed pools of blue. I'm still spinning. I left Atlanta for the people. Well, just one really. The girl whose soul once kissed thunder in the rain, and can't quit chasing storms until they touch again.
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Florida