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"conciliation" poems
Can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? The waves have been a teacher with more wisdom than any I have ever had before. Something so constant, so committed, so unflappable as the lapping or crashing of the waves upon the shore. If you need any evidence of her relentless nature, look no further than the foreshore, great boulders and cliff faces worn down to grit. A true mechanical entity, with precise surety, well versed in engineering, mathematics, weather patterns and fluid dynamics. Who would have thought a philosophical question would have an engineering solution? The answer is no, but the question lacks precision, it doesn't quite paint the picture as it happens. I dive into the crashing waves, stretched out long, offering no resistance, the wash thunders around me but still I glide forward in the water like a shark, no resistance. I am the immovable object. Suspended weightless I overcome the unstoppable force by holding ground, offering no resistance as it rages around and past me, trying to capsize me or push me backwards. The way of the seas, the ultimate peacemaker. The parallels to life do not need pointing out thus, especially to those who fight for justice, the Davids versus their Goliaths. History's great peacemakers have been here before, the art of war is in passive resistance, principled adherence coupled with civil disobedience, your silence is considered tacit acceptance, so be not silent but give unto Caesar that which is Caesars. The fight is an uphill playing field, you must play by their rules, or the game is over, but you can win by their rules if you know where they bend. So stand peacemakers, face rows of riot shields, plow fields as Te Whiti did, collect salt as Gandhi, be not silent, tip toe that fine line between real change and hard time, wherever you see injustice speak, and seek conciliation. Peace is not achieved when nations put down their guns, peace is achieved when people embrace their neighbors as their brothers and sisters. It is achieved when people no longer speak of peace with longing in the same breath as cursing the person that parked in their carpark. Be peace and you will see peace, wish not to see it in the world if you cannot be it in your world. Change yourself and the world changes with you. So can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? That much is up to you.
0
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
Rise of the Peacemaker
Can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? The waves have been a teacher with more wisdom than any I have ever had before. Something so constant, so committed, so unflappable as the lapping or crashing of the waves upon the shore. If you need any evidence of her relentless nature, look no further than the foreshore, great boulders and cliff faces worn down to grit. A true mechanical entity, with precise surety, well versed in engineering, mathematics, weather patterns and fluid dynamics. Who would have thought a philosophical question would have an engineering solution? The answer is no, but the question lacks precision, it doesn't quite paint the picture as it happens. I dive into the crashing waves, stretched out long, offering no resistance, the wash thunders around me but still I glide forward in the water like a shark, no resistance. I am the immovable object. Suspended weightless I overcome the unstoppable force by holding ground, offering no resistance as it rages around and past me, trying to capsize me or push me backwards. The way of the seas, the ultimate peacemaker. The parallels to life do not need pointing out thus, especially to those who fight for justice, the Davids versus their Goliaths. History's great peacemakers have been here before, the art of war is in passive resistance, principled adherence coupled with civil disobedience, your silence is considered tacit acceptance, so be not silent but give unto Caesar that which is Caesars. The fight is an uphill playing field, you must play by their rules, or the game is over, but you can win by their rules if you know where they bend. So stand peacemakers, face rows of riot shields, plow fields as Te Whiti did, collect salt as Gandhi, be not silent, tip toe that fine line between real change and hard time, wherever you see injustice speak, and seek conciliation. Peace is not achieved when nations put down their guns, peace is achieved when people embrace their neighbors as their brothers and sisters. It is achieved when people no longer speak of peace with longing in the same breath as cursing the person that parked in their carpark. Be peace and you will see peace, wish not to see it in the world if you cannot be it in your world. Change yourself and the world changes with you. So can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? That much is up to you.
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2
Being invokes Form. Form invokes Matter. Matter invokes Mind. Mind invokes Motion. Motion evokes Hallucination. Hallucination evokes Provocation. Provocation evokes Dis-ease. Dis-ease evokes Reconciliation. Conciliation banishes Dis-ease. Ease banishes Provocation. Discernment banishes Hallucination. Rest banishes Motion. Stillness dispels Thought. Concentration dispels Matter. Formlessness dispels Phenomena. Being alone Is.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Parabola
So you think you are a master of techniques of persuasion? You shallow pips-squeak, mediocrity is your mastery the obsequious hoi polloi that surround you are the pitiable averageness of conciliation Sophistry and subterfuge are your game of compromised facts syllogistic  arithmetic conceptualizing  doesn't make anything so your addition is flawed by your bungled bombast of banality and guile fortunately for you, your crowd will never study logic fortunately for you semi-literacy is  de rigueur You pompous swollen grandiose mass of hyperbolic gas Fear is what you offer, lies are what you sell your rhetorical flourish is as the stench of a waste  dump fetid, corpulent, fallow and febrile toxic half-truths, innuendos, ambiguities, conjecture and asinine aspersions comprise your specious fare, fostering rumours,  manipulating facts, you are the purported Biblical brood of vipers so extensively reviled against Your relevancy is attributable to the dull stupidity so profusely prevalent today Your "success" is the stuff of taint and treachery You'll probably choke to death on a stuck piece of poorly masticated  flesh so appropriate  and  befitting the demise of a professional liar
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Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Rush et al.
It’s hard to intervene when people fight. Recall being thumped for “bullying” a lad Who’d harassed ME. So hard to tell Who’s right or wrong. Who made the first jibe Or struck the first blow? The same with global conflicts too: Irish Catholic or Protestant? Israel or Palestine? Communist Country or Capitalist? The list goes on… Best keep out of it if you can. Do not make judgement, Just mediate as best you can. Preach fairness and conciliation: Do your best to facilitate Peace. Paul Butters
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Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
Rights and Wrongs
it's visual anthropology, I swear. it's everything can't you see!? I'm on my bed. I had a great dream about you, I'll even say it, you said you'd make love to me, so I anxiously listened to Pull My Daisy by Allen Ginsberg afterwards, he certainly was mad but was genius but I do care about my health, though. So, I ordered the speeches of Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. Lincoln said a lot, he advanced a conversation but appeared to lord over the common man, the man who works in the field, the man who goes to war to fight. Martin Luther King didn't say much, although Common says freedom is free. I smoked a cigar and poured some orange juice, too. I can now smell the cigar and enjoy orange juice. I saw a white bug outside and felt deep. The specific kind, unknowable. I'm nervous tho' about today. I have to be up at five AM. I could sleep more but I won't, instead I'll write a clear and coherent prose-poem about the circus because I do care about my health. I will love myself and maybe take a shower because I do care about my health. Molly Casey, who knows, I forgive you if you forgive me, and if whoever said "ugh" apologizes, I'll be happy. But first, or later, we'll have to  accept that life is unfair, and that you have to be professional to make it through. Here, look it, I'll tell you everything and more, and all the time, if you tell me I'm sane and beautiful. How badly do you want bad? I want bad, sometimes. I want good more often that's why I do this dear Molly Casey. And when you said you'd sleep with me, did you think? No, I don't think you thought and I don't think you mean it. No, when you said you'd make love to me, in my dream, did you think? No, I don't think you did. But know, you inspired me. As a conciliation for my inability to be profound, or for being too profound, or too much of a thinker, or for being overly cautious, I want you to know that biology is interesting and that when I write several words down in my poem book and in my phone to use later, I think I'm working. Here are those words: 1. faced 2. changed 3. is 4. cognitive 5. multiple 6. vision 6. droplet 7. positive everyday experience 8. I lie 9. ought to listen to that song 9. cause 10. zeal 11. prudence 12. in the dust 13. self-criticism 14. work 15. chill Castro 16. not SA - SF although SA isn't bad 17. me 18. my friends 19. All encompass dropper 20. Only human 21. All too human 2:38 AM December 12th 2018
0
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC
To Molly Casey: I'm Inspired
it's visual anthropology, I swear. it's everything can't you see!? I'm on my bed. I had a great dream about you, I'll even say it, you said you'd make love to me, so I anxiously listened to Pull My Daisy by Allen Ginsberg afterwards, he certainly was mad but was genius but I do care about my health, though. So, I ordered the speeches of Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. Lincoln said a lot, he advanced a conversation but appeared to lord over the common man, the man who works in the field, the man who goes to war to fight. Martin Luther King didn't say much, although Common says freedom is free. I smoked a cigar and poured some orange juice, too. I can now smell the cigar and enjoy orange juice. I saw a white bug outside and felt deep. The specific kind, unknowable. I'm nervous tho' about today. I have to be up at five AM. I could sleep more but I won't, instead I'll write a clear and coherent prose-poem about the circus because I do care about my health. I will love myself and maybe take a shower because I do care about my health. Molly Casey, who knows, I forgive you if you forgive me, and if whoever said "ugh" apologizes, I'll be happy. But first, or later, we'll have to  accept that life is unfair, and that you have to be professional to make it through. Here, look it, I'll tell you everything and more, and all the time, if you tell me I'm sane and beautiful. How badly do you want bad? I want bad, sometimes. I want good more often that's why I do this dear Molly Casey. And when you said you'd sleep with me, did you think? No, I don't think you thought and I don't think you mean it. No, when you said you'd make love to me, in my dream, did you think? No, I don't think you did. But know, you inspired me. As a conciliation for my inability to be profound, or for being too profound, or too much of a thinker, or for being overly cautious, I want you to know that biology is interesting and that when I write several words down in my poem book and in my phone to use later, I think I'm working. Here are those words: 1. faced 2. changed 3. is 4. cognitive 5. multiple 6. vision 6. droplet 7. positive everyday experience 8. I lie 9. ought to listen to that song 9. cause 10. zeal 11. prudence 12. in the dust 13. self-criticism 14. work 15. chill Castro 16. not SA - SF although SA isn't bad 17. me 18. my friends 19. All encompass dropper 20. Only human 21. All too human 2:38 AM December 12th 2018
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35
You carry your memories shaped in sadness, and the glad yellows of suns setting into seas of blue thought. The ache of the weight of your life, the bareness of fatigue, the soft depression left by sorrow, a soul embossed with a notary’s seal, the truth that can be sworn then lost, a kiss in front of a stranger. Sad that you have forgotten the what, or when, or where of Neruda’s beauty of a sonnet. Yet you know the dark space between the shadow and the soul, the slowing of eyelids closing. You who build hopeful temples to possibility, mirrors of light to warm yourself by the flame of offering, a dance born in sweet smoke, the incense of conciliation, supplication, the medication of desire. Rest my friend, wherever you are and don't forget to remember when you get older and colder, it is only the winter of a new world.
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Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
A dance born in sweet smoke
Our future was built on revolution. A mythos of courageously vanquishing the empire. Such is the birthright of our citizens. Our history created us in its image. Villains seeking conciliation must bear the title and charge of treason. Wielders of swords and rifles stand immortalized in every town square. Liberty or Death proclaims the stone and bronze in which they are cast. What will be the names of these great black men, who crush the oppression of the old revolution?
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Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
The Old Revolution
You can stand there with your pride, but don't deny your pain Take my heart with you, its to broken to operate the same You can't forsake me, I consistently gave you my all You fought and kept a grudge, but still I broke your fall Your memories broke out in a silent weep, but I heard you loud and clear I know you too **** well, so much so you'd cohere Now lets take a moment, lets reflect on the past You made broken promises, some you even recast I breathed in your lies, and coughed out my soul I guess it was too late, when I realised it was your goal If I had one wish, I wouldnt change a thing I know my worth now, and I am worth bragging Dont tell me that you love me now, your love is way too late I ate it up and spat it out, what you lost, you can locate I'll no longer be your puppet, I cut off all our ties I wont say hi again, since we've said our goodbyes Re conciliation is not an option, I've told you once before Its over, no more turning back once you've walked out that door The weight on my shoulders lifted, and it is my vow To shift it onto yours, do you feel baneful now? So, lets look to the future, my path seems so wide I'll find my way with life, the way the moon goes with the tide. I hope you learnt your lesson, now that your old and worn Never, not ever.. mess with a woman scorned
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Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Lesson, Listen..
I woke up an uncracked knuckle Left the house late Arrived early My coffee shop closed For good this time The new tenants tried to sell me On Reggae Dancercise They explained they’d still have coffee, A small conciliation. I saw my sister, sat with her child He ate cupcakes & distrusted me For my gluten intolerance. She is unimpressed with poetry My sister, she falls for a Friday I sit on a street in NoLita It is wind-swept, as am I. Wondering at this moment When the next time I will Touch hearts with another will be... Not on this street If today.
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Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
Wind-swept
Bidden Brick by brick we built our own prison with the darkest dungeon no light no sight because with human Reason we committed treason against ourselves we had the only answers that mattered little did we Know every ounce of the material that was used to make the bricks were gathered from the deepest Mire of deceit can there be truth from a world that is fallen and cursed your greatest need is to get Higher beyond the reckless complete disorders the basic depravity of our own existence look for truth Where it was undeniably and without a doubt proven beyond reproach this is the ground we should be Searching for without end solid footing a foundation that builds sure and positive lives you will know The great truths that breathes without beginning or end in earthly origins it exists with merits and Standards that have the premier finger prints of unquestionable holiness what better place to secure And ground your life defy the pit of lies walk in scared trusts you will rise beyond all limitations freedom Rarified will pass from your you’re lips the wounded earth will find one other who brings a message of Conciliation that bears love and truth to all that will listen a quest stirs at the most basic level the call to Be free a heart cries and it will be heard
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Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 9:09 PM UTC
Bidden
Try this, it's {like}kid baseball, no grownups, and only mental no hardware, eyes glazed, as we accept - we saw him, baseballman, - corner of Santa Monica and Western he played this same game but we are all grown ups, for the session, and we volunteered, but we do not at the moment recall, reconnect, reconcile one mind, o , my god. wjatdewdotame? tamed me? blamed me? shamed me, got'amyou, made me the father of others who know I never knew, but they knew, why her and all her kids knew, eden was mine, the I traded that for her, without ever really, with out, out most ever, knowing why I never noticed, she knew just what to do, and I never learned, wham- thankyewma'm why did the guy never know, really war is wrong, and she knew, yet she set herself as prize. Who knew, they all knew, able proved n'able was a name for those who found it funny to hurt with fire and smoke and savory fatted beast feast fired desires to know, more, moremore, barren womb more rave ravening black wings now mean mean and I mean it, I win or I die, I try umph. and a more is a matter of opinion, some times, it feels staged, inserted for drama, as if drama, is a god, or a guardian spirit, per haps may haps, we creak, and stretch our spine n mine pops, gas, escapes, internal pressure adjusts, a sigh, you may be reading for pleasure, less likely you came this far for the upaginthewall-weall-alley ****** at the core, as you think, mmhm in your heart you are, re- swing low, sweet chariot, I got no place to go. And this ain't hell. And I oughta know. So, merry message of the annual effort to enjoy on purpose conciliation apprizals as to what counts gift or thought behind it?
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Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 7:08 PM UTC
Actual Adult Christmas game
Try this, it's {like}kid baseball, no grownups, and only mental no hardware, eyes glazed, as we accept - we saw him, baseballman, - corner of Santa Monica and Western he played this same game but we are all grown ups, for the session, and we volunteered, but we do not at the moment recall, reconnect, reconcile one mind, o , my god. wjatdewdotame? tamed me? blamed me? shamed me, got'amyou, made me the father of others who know I never knew, but they knew, why her and all her kids knew, eden was mine, the I traded that for her, without ever really, with out, out most ever, knowing why I never noticed, she knew just what to do, and I never learned, wham- thankyewma'm why did the guy never know, really war is wrong, and she knew, yet she set herself as prize. Who knew, they all knew, able proved n'able was a name for those who found it funny to hurt with fire and smoke and savory fatted beast feast fired desires to know, more, moremore, barren womb more rave ravening black wings now mean mean and I mean it, I win or I die, I try umph. and a more is a matter of opinion, some times, it feels staged, inserted for drama, as if drama, is a god, or a guardian spirit, per haps may haps, we creak, and stretch our spine n mine pops, gas, escapes, internal pressure adjusts, a sigh, you may be reading for pleasure, less likely you came this far for the upaginthewall-weall-alley ****** at the core, as you think, mmhm in your heart you are, re- swing low, sweet chariot, I got no place to go. And this ain't hell. And I oughta know. So, merry message of the annual effort to enjoy on purpose conciliation apprizals as to what counts gift or thought behind it?
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60
They always ask questions                 Over and over again, questions are asked. My lips a constant question mark, my hands a fleeting moment,                  my hair tied up in thoughts I never question. whether I am asking for knowledge or release or death is uncertain.                                The last two are not mutually exclusive.                                                              My bones are restless. When she dips into the spaces between your ribs, digs out flesh and words with claws                    I often wonder if you can even feel it.                                         But my hair is too messy and requires my attention,       My hands are too chapped for me to do anything but lick the cracking skin. We are not an answer, and questions are not lifeboats.          The sea is not afraid to toss and turn in its bed, drowning nightmares beneath it,                                                                           But who are they?                             My lips think they know, but they say nothing, pinched into silence by something different than us, but not bigger.                                        When our knowledge makes manifest something like peace    I return to my whetstone, press my teeth to the grain, and wait for the storm to put me to sleep.
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
An Attempted Conciliation
They always ask questions                 Over and over again, questions are asked. My lips a constant question mark, my hands a fleeting moment,                  my hair tied up in thoughts I never question. whether I am asking for knowledge or release or death is uncertain.                                The last two are not mutually exclusive.                                                              My bones are restless. When she dips into the spaces between your ribs, digs out flesh and words with claws                    I often wonder if you can even feel it.                                         But my hair is too messy and requires my attention,       My hands are too chapped for me to do anything but lick the cracking skin. We are not an answer, and questions are not lifeboats.          The sea is not afraid to toss and turn in its bed, drowning nightmares beneath it,                                                                           But who are they?                             My lips think they know, but they say nothing, pinched into silence by something different than us, but not bigger.                                        When our knowledge makes manifest something like peace    I return to my whetstone, press my teeth to the grain, and wait for the storm to put me to sleep.
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18
Compulsion The same reason my feet bounce and roll and move every which way; A motion I cannot control. Completion The same reason I finish that which I start (within constraint); A satisfaction I don't often find. Craving The same reason I poison myself with smoke in spite of reason; In simplest terms, addiction. Conciliation I have bled countless times. I have regrets; I have scars. I have attempted to stop. However For the life of me, and For the life of my hands I cannot bring myself To spare me the pain of bad decisions.
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
On Nailbiting
Lord I pray if it is thy will Guide us through the time to come And if your will be just Help us find each other again If not corporeally, then in the spirit of a love that compensates Not in pain and pseudo-truths But in tranquility molded from unconditional redemption Trusting in ourselves and others by a space May we navigate the rending shoals that seek to tear our spirits The impermeable walls of destruction that keep our hearts from conciliation And may the love that once outshone our mutual hope, have not been a mocking enticement A whisper caught within a dream dreamt not so long ago But may we always mean something metaphysical and real If not together than in solitary contentment May the forgiveness given always bond our hearts Thru space and time and life between
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
Clipped Chrub Wings and Displaced Kingdoms
Wait not for dawn Wait not for the first bird's song Wait not for the trees and their leaves Wait not for the dew on their skin Wait not for the rays of the Sun Wait not for them to kiss the Earth Wait not for the woken faces Wait not for their curious gazes Honor the wishes of a dying night, and a dying heart, and retreat For ever were you another species Conciliation was never meant to be.. ..easy
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Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
Retreat
Back Then. There was for us something so holy back then in that lovely OtherWhere. We found out-spoken feelings consolingly warming and care became real. Raising our faces to preordained fate we found bliss within dreams. There was something of glory about love in that wonderful OtherLand Absorbing out-pouring from duel openness we took hope and believed. Joy must have re-cloaked all heaven with our beautiful secret. Ever was lasting and Now was unsinkable. Happiness followed a daily routine as Hello impacted twin-souled contact. Born then contentment with intimate rain of reflective close pattern. A state arose where death was unthinkable Satisfied moorings meant patiently waiting until change altered lonely. Exchange of anticipation balanced each taste of our myopic throne. But health unexpectedly hit rocks and sunk. As I paid the Boatman my coin of acceptance mourning wept oceans of grief. Sudden wrecked notions of OtherTime and struck reality in raw hysteria. Storms of aloneness drown reason and clung. Yet different horizons within saline's fall gave never-moreness clearer vision. Wait would not be outgrown but tears which recede can reach appeasement. Scars back then were eventually fleshed over. Conciliation accepts calmer seas if heartbreak makes enough concessions. Future togetherness in a new OtherPlace will prove better without an aggressor. There was for us something holy back then in that treasured OtherWhere and will be again.
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Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
Back Then.
an empty head and heart and bumming ego will twit and and twirl truth with abbreviated character "Everything about me is a made up lie. She lied, they lie. Don't trust them. VERY ***** sad anti-Americans. I am America." what have we wrought? what water have we sapped from this stone of democracy? of conciliation? of compromise? a jocular twisting gnashing of teeth and buttered lips a helium balloon of hair and fornicating words of bluster and smoke a man's grabbed the **** of liberty jeering in her face, "big things, big things are in store for you..." Here I am, I am liberty about to be ******
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Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 2:52 AM UTC
**** on phallus relics of history
I am not your silver medal I am not a runner up to him Don't call me because you're lonely I am facing this alone too And nothing you say Is going to make me feel like anything less Than your conciliation prize Because another girl won his heart And I am still available This is not a race It is a fight But no one wins When punches are exchanged Still, the conflict continues Bobbing and weaving Avoiding the obvious Clinging to each other Reaching for that title My heart is a heavyweight But no gleaming belt you promise Can support that Let's drop the gloves I deserve to be put first And so do you
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 2:41 AM UTC
Boxing
The merged generations, emerge from first cold night in the mountains, announcing, This is screen-free Sunday. I say this is the first day of ever after. I read a bit -- Infinite Jest, just a stream that contributes, from time to time, finity to finity, a dead man's former mind fitted into words, emanating from the audible version of the words processed in the Nineties, flowing through the post I-Mac realm of words to the wise and otherwise, flooding the lexagraphic learners of grammar for sense in silence, self-reading silently, breathing commas, allow our pauses to perpetuate se per selah… say la la la as time flows by, like a wild river in the spring, Infinite Jest, there is a thread through environs unimaginable to me, until the inventions were given as inspirations, did you know, I heard, Steve Jobs yoosta stand in the comode, and flush it, gnoshit. In a state like meditation, zoned out of bounds in mere mistaken chance, ping ping ping a good idea, a bell of a thought. We think in words, not all minds do. Plenty punishments puns provideo please if -ish is sortalike… shitilised, four syl-lables la la la ra ra ra, boom sort on those, and mix up the story, in the bubble you be reading in, give us a universe, fit into the final bubble, beyond imagining minds, this world of words. Here is where we word wise do as we heard, when we read what the prophets say, the angels said… re- conciliation - nation to nation, peace on earth {as in heaven BTW} goodwill… the real deal, to fill the flaw, in the law, which allowed imaginary places power in carnal minds. Jesus fixed that. Jah, no joke, he took it, the joke on me, I traded for the joke on you, he said, I heard.
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Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC
Jest a hope in hell
The merged generations, emerge from first cold night in the mountains, announcing, This is screen-free Sunday. I say this is the first day of ever after. I read a bit -- Infinite Jest, just a stream that contributes, from time to time, finity to finity, a dead man's former mind fitted into words, emanating from the audible version of the words processed in the Nineties, flowing through the post I-Mac realm of words to the wise and otherwise, flooding the lexagraphic learners of grammar for sense in silence, self-reading silently, breathing commas, allow our pauses to perpetuate se per selah… say la la la as time flows by, like a wild river in the spring, Infinite Jest, there is a thread through environs unimaginable to me, until the inventions were given as inspirations, did you know, I heard, Steve Jobs yoosta stand in the comode, and flush it, gnoshit. In a state like meditation, zoned out of bounds in mere mistaken chance, ping ping ping a good idea, a bell of a thought. We think in words, not all minds do. Plenty punishments puns provideo please if -ish is sortalike… shitilised, four syl-lables la la la ra ra ra, boom sort on those, and mix up the story, in the bubble you be reading in, give us a universe, fit into the final bubble, beyond imagining minds, this world of words. Here is where we word wise do as we heard, when we read what the prophets say, the angels said… re- conciliation - nation to nation, peace on earth {as in heaven BTW} goodwill… the real deal, to fill the flaw, in the law, which allowed imaginary places power in carnal minds. Jesus fixed that. Jah, no joke, he took it, the joke on me, I traded for the joke on you, he said, I heard.
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56
__[Dove]__ _/dAv/_ (countable, politics) A person favouring conciliation and negotiation rather than conflict Spare no fortune to the worth of these words- pay attention to details for the bullseye of love, as a dash and dart Falling in love, as there are many falling feelings …brace yourself when the bombs start. Embrace your frightened eyes; holding onto the sights of your whole world burning Choked up on your own words, as when an addict swallows their cigarette- the smoke that's churning As I’m in a hell designed by the torture to my eyes the sight of you gone from my life- after the roles we played from my thoughts; acts of my mind My love, there’s no need to tremble and hide, like a bird that had its nest burnt over. Nestle in my love, and I’ll wash you so pure with my words- setting you free as a dove We don’t need to negotiated our love; making love in peace with a piece of my mind
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Jul 16, 2024
Jul 16, 2024 at 7:05 AM UTC
Dove
I think what all the time Various topics, various subjects, and various colors Such values that raise the emotions Emotions to stand on the peak Such colors to paint the scenes Scenes that inspires my soul Values to care for other and to make others happy And to make them free from stress any further When my soul gets happiness or sadness I prefer to worship of my Lord Lord! I want to purify my soul I want to achieve my goal Not for the profit Not for the soul I stay quiet patience and humble Maybe, sometimes I go to the way that is wrong Oh My Lord! Take me aside from that way Make me strong Give me the right way I can where travel to On that way I want You to bless me more With lots of such wishes That gives me conciliation in your way Let my powers to struggle for all night and day Bless me for what You do like Take me away from what You hate Make me brave Save my grave
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
I think what all the time