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"constrain" poems
When people ask if you're weird, or tell you, or want to believe themselves strange, eclectic, or odd. It's vaguely disgusting to me, cringeworthy in a mild degree. We think we're so different, but we are not. The individualism of people should be and is comparable to the individualism of ants. Who looks at the anthill and sees something in particular, something behaving specifically "uniquely" from every ant and every anthill? Why do you believe in yourself? I see this, as a conversation about depression, and your partner does not respect you but instead wants to tell you how they feel worse, or have it worse, or "understand" more about the affirmation or situation. A person looking for individuality through a lens of misery, anguish, and sadness, is truly alone in their minds, and missing the reality that these depressions exist without them. The statement, "you are not alone" is an attack, or an offense to these people, because it says "you are not as unique as you think", it strips them of their identity and individuality. This is true of many ideologies and affirmations. I quit individuality, this constricting sense of holding everything of yourself in center, to be a drop in the whole, something fluid. If you split your affirmations from yourself, you'd see we're all the same; Affirmations are just currents in the ocean. I look at myself; and people see a man, a radical feminist, and sometimes a musician. As labels, these each have their own presupposed notions, [especially, "man" or "male" in the patriarchal gaze] which hardly, if ever, are true, but as affirmations, when I consent to using them, these are no longer stereotypes that constrain me, but similarities that I realize I can embrace or shut out in others. Affirmations do not make me more unique, but similar to more people. If I remove these affirmations to try and get to my "true" center, my purest form of self, I see I am without meaning. This is why I quit Individuality.
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
"Why I Quit Individuality."
When people ask if you're weird, or tell you, or want to believe themselves strange, eclectic, or odd. It's vaguely disgusting to me, cringeworthy in a mild degree. We think we're so different, but we are not. The individualism of people should be and is comparable to the individualism of ants. Who looks at the anthill and sees something in particular, something behaving specifically "uniquely" from every ant and every anthill? Why do you believe in yourself? I see this, as a conversation about depression, and your partner does not respect you but instead wants to tell you how they feel worse, or have it worse, or "understand" more about the affirmation or situation. A person looking for individuality through a lens of misery, anguish, and sadness, is truly alone in their minds, and missing the reality that these depressions exist without them. The statement, "you are not alone" is an attack, or an offense to these people, because it says "you are not as unique as you think", it strips them of their identity and individuality. This is true of many ideologies and affirmations. I quit individuality, this constricting sense of holding everything of yourself in center, to be a drop in the whole, something fluid. If you split your affirmations from yourself, you'd see we're all the same; Affirmations are just currents in the ocean. I look at myself; and people see a man, a radical feminist, and sometimes a musician. As labels, these each have their own presupposed notions, [especially, "man" or "male" in the patriarchal gaze] which hardly, if ever, are true, but as affirmations, when I consent to using them, these are no longer stereotypes that constrain me, but similarities that I realize I can embrace or shut out in others. Affirmations do not make me more unique, but similar to more people. If I remove these affirmations to try and get to my "true" center, my purest form of self, I see I am without meaning. This is why I quit Individuality.
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52
Those that are complacently designed By the simpering vanities of a domesticated world rarely find the peace of mind of which we all strive because their materialistic beliefs constrain them in pools of normality Drowning them in the pressures of society and hanging them out to dry in downloaded photos that never fade our lives are all dictated by the subconscious influence of one another thus our souls are irrefutably intertwined locked together in endless struggle mind against mind.
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Mind Against Mind
The insane live forever, lust lawlessly over all things conceived fascinating to the validity and gluttony of the mind. Brain feasters we live to strive, exist to be, all things so mundane to our gluttony, we hunger for something on border lines, the limits of human mumbling over morality. Cease your everest squirming, your infantile homage bearing, you find so viscous an evil, so vile a fiend in us the broken chains. Godless we sing the marching banter of forlorn free will, we have no conscience to bear, no after thought found alive anywhere. The psychopath lurches out about child like smiles, lives a second agenda basis before any infant experiments sin upon innocence. Born divine this mutant knows free will without restriction, closer to a limitless ever enveloping power than any mortal. Breed me a man slewing monster, a shape shifting skeleton reaper, those that fear this untouchable being, this godless singularity, fear the very will we wish to contort, constrain, control, but a demon answers only to that of it’s own greed, no man may quiet its roaring, its heartless contortioning. It’s an angel without a heart beat, a cadaver with a taste for its own flesh, make me a monster manufactured under every roof, we’ve got too much human to feel.
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Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:29 AM UTC
Godless Heredity
.*i can think of one cool job... a nighttime DJ on a radio station... anything more cool than being a DJ between the hours 12am through to 5am? honestly... can't think of a cooler job... all the song requests are gone from the classical.fm show between 3pm and 5pm... now one is telling you what to do... **** me... as a kid... either a veterinarian, or an owner of a music shop... now? an insomniac DJ... they would never play Christopher Young's Something to Think About in the afternoon... sorry... i'm a Hellraiser cult-follower of the first two movies... and that song? why? i just can't be bothered with listening to that Braveheart over-scratched Song of / for a Princess... it's good... once in a while... but, come, on!* just one of those nights... having listened to the scoops from the alternative... worried your to hell about not having ******* enough concerning the previous day's load which would make the pleasures of **** *** look tame... perched on a windowsill - solving a sudoku -    and listening to Frank Zappa's occam's razor... and wishing:   making sure it was never hot in the city by Billy Idol, or Kiss' crazy nights to usher in the night,           and the watchman... why?    it's not your standard guitar solo... it's a medley...     big difference... guitar solos are bound to a strict return to the rhythm section...    they are caged beasts... composed of a restricted time constrain in a song... but a guitar medley? **** me...      it's what obliterates a need for vocals...    the guitar medley is the vocals substitute...              and that aspect of music? mm... gummy bears... jelly in the knees...            which is why i like the fact that jazz is the antithesis of classical music symphony... sure... i get the Schubert / Schumann piano duets...    nice...          but jazz? the breakdown of the quintet? **** let me count... piano, drums...         bass... horn... sax... yep, a quintet...           that moment in a jazz song? where each instrument player gets his solo? genius!             the same with a guitar medley... neither solo,   nor the rhythm section... what a beautiful opening to what i expect to be, a beautiful night:    as the watchman once said.
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
ZAPPAH!
.*i can think of one cool job... a nighttime DJ on a radio station... anything more cool than being a DJ between the hours 12am through to 5am? honestly... can't think of a cooler job... all the song requests are gone from the classical.fm show between 3pm and 5pm... now one is telling you what to do... **** me... as a kid... either a veterinarian, or an owner of a music shop... now? an insomniac DJ... they would never play Christopher Young's Something to Think About in the afternoon... sorry... i'm a Hellraiser cult-follower of the first two movies... and that song? why? i just can't be bothered with listening to that Braveheart over-scratched Song of / for a Princess... it's good... once in a while... but, come, on!* just one of those nights... having listened to the scoops from the alternative... worried your to hell about not having ******* enough concerning the previous day's load which would make the pleasures of **** *** look tame... perched on a windowsill - solving a sudoku -    and listening to Frank Zappa's occam's razor... and wishing:   making sure it was never hot in the city by Billy Idol, or Kiss' crazy nights to usher in the night,           and the watchman... why?    it's not your standard guitar solo... it's a medley...     big difference... guitar solos are bound to a strict return to the rhythm section...    they are caged beasts... composed of a restricted time constrain in a song... but a guitar medley? **** me...      it's what obliterates a need for vocals...    the guitar medley is the vocals substitute...              and that aspect of music? mm... gummy bears... jelly in the knees...            which is why i like the fact that jazz is the antithesis of classical music symphony... sure... i get the Schubert / Schumann piano duets...    nice...          but jazz? the breakdown of the quintet? **** let me count... piano, drums...         bass... horn... sax... yep, a quintet...           that moment in a jazz song? where each instrument player gets his solo? genius!             the same with a guitar medley... neither solo,   nor the rhythm section... what a beautiful opening to what i expect to be, a beautiful night:    as the watchman once said.
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64
I will accept thy will to do and be, Thy hatred and intolerance of sin, Thy will at least to love, that burns within And thirsteth after Me: So will I render fruitful, blessing still The germs and small beginnings in thy heart, Because thy will cleaves to the better part.-- Alas, I cannot will. Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive The inner unseen longings of the soul; I guide them turning towards Me; I control And charm hearts till they grieve: If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass, Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love; For I have power in earth and heaven above.-- I cannot wish, alas! What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet I still must strive to win thee and constrain: For thee I hung upon the cross in pain, How then can I forget? If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate, Nor choose, nor wish,--resign thyself, be still Till I infuse love, hatred, longing, will.-- I do not deprecate.
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2.1k
A Bruised Reed Shall He Not Break
Mother of Light, and the Gods! Mother of Music, awake! Silence and speech are at odds; Heaven and Hell are at stake. By the Rose and the Cross I conjure; I constrain by the Snake and the Sword; I am he that is sworn to endure -Bring us the word of the Lord! By the brood of the Bysses of Brightening, whose God was my sire; By the Lord of the Flame and Lightning, the King of the Spirits of Fire; By the Lord of the Waves and the Waters, the King of the Hosts of the Sea, The fairest of all of whose daughters was mother to me; By the Lord of the Winds and the Breezes, the king of the Spirits of Air, In whose ***** the infinite ease is that cradled me there; By the Lord of the Fields and the Mountains, the King of the Spirits of Earth That nurtured my life at his fountains from the hour of my birth; By the Wand and the Cup I conjure; by the Dagger and Disk I constrain; I am he that is sworn to endure; make thy music again! I am Lord of the Star and the Seal; I am Lord of the Snake and the Sword; Reveal us the riddle, reveal! Bring us the word of the Lord! As the flame of the sun, as the roar of the sea, as the storm of the air, As the quake of the earth -let it soar for a boon, for a bane, for a snare, For a lure, for a light, for a kiss, for a rod, for a scourge, for a sword - Bring us thy burden of bliss -Bring us the word of the Lord!
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2.1k
The Interpreter
every girl just looks so **** good I try not to be a lion on the prowl bite my lips & take the drag of a cigarette I need to help restrain myself, to breath in the fresh air and constrain myself; don't pounce girl, you've got this. but he's still the name I call to while dreaming the hands I want on me the lips I need to be kissed by & the air I dare to breathe. He is the man who moves me try to understand, he's the magic man shifts me inside in ways no wife I covet can. He's the one I'm nervous to lie with scared I'll lose myself in the thought of him that's all it is, really: the illusion, the daydreams of a girl who lives more in her head than in the world distant sometimes hazy others & totally unreachable occasionally. I wish I could have him under my skin but I'm not ready to deal with the consequences of being his girl. I'd love to live beside his shadow the relief that washes over me when he says my name erodes the disorder lifts my eyes from my feet makes my heart swell & body melt. it's the kind of contentment that I know will destroy me in the withdrawl. it's the kind of baby young love that encapsulates the happy victims imprisons you in the sugar & honeycomb sweet wonderland that turns sour when you relax in the beauty & forget that lambs are often lions, too.
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
The Inevitable Letdown
If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd, And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet Fetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness; Let us find out, if we must be constrain'd, Sandals more interwoven and complete To fit the naked foot of poesy; Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress Of every chord, and see what may be gain'd By ear industrious, and attention meet: Misers of sound and syllable, no less Than Midas of his coinage, let us be Jealous of dead leaves in the bay wreath crown; So, if we may not let the Muse be free, She will be bound with garlands of her own.
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1.9k
If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain'd
I am not yet defiled; O hear me. Let not the crazed hornets or serpents or ophidian or the    buzzard bee come near me. I am not yet defiled; console me. I fear that the snake charmer may with rhythmic body clocks clock me,    with predatory hissing paralyze me, with authoritative power anger me,       on wicker constraints constrain me, in bamboo-patches pierce me. I am not yet defiled; provide me With beauty to free me, dressage to cover me, silence to come    to me, souls to save me, charmers and angels      in my wandering existence seeking fights to waver the war within me. I am not yet defiled; forgive me For the provocative glances in me, my presence when womanity holds me,    my mythological beauty by deities beyond me,       my head held high when they slay by means of my          crossbow, my addiction when they poison me. I am not yet defiled; rehearse me In the dreams and the prayers I must take when    art interrupts me, material disturbs me, splintered souls      gaze at me, smiles fade at me, the knifes edge        stains me and everlasting scars pain          me to shame and the shames taints            my skin and my heart abandons me. I am not yet defiled; O hear me, Let not Perseus who is warrior or who thinks he is King      or a rival to me. I am not yet defiled; O fill me With gasoline against those who would inhabit my   bones, would sink me into empty caverns,     would make me a prisoner locked, a monster with       blood dripping, a monster, and a passer of dis-ease         who would execute my self, would           flush me like ***** oozing and             ***** and ooze and *****               like alcohol seeping in the                 pores would drown me. Let Poseidan not make me defiled and let him not **** me. Otherwise **** me. © Sia Jane
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Prayer before Defilement
I am not yet defiled; O hear me. Let not the crazed hornets or serpents or ophidian or the    buzzard bee come near me. I am not yet defiled; console me. I fear that the snake charmer may with rhythmic body clocks clock me,    with predatory hissing paralyze me, with authoritative power anger me,       on wicker constraints constrain me, in bamboo-patches pierce me. I am not yet defiled; provide me With beauty to free me, dressage to cover me, silence to come    to me, souls to save me, charmers and angels      in my wandering existence seeking fights to waver the war within me. I am not yet defiled; forgive me For the provocative glances in me, my presence when womanity holds me,    my mythological beauty by deities beyond me,       my head held high when they slay by means of my          crossbow, my addiction when they poison me. I am not yet defiled; rehearse me In the dreams and the prayers I must take when    art interrupts me, material disturbs me, splintered souls      gaze at me, smiles fade at me, the knifes edge        stains me and everlasting scars pain          me to shame and the shames taints            my skin and my heart abandons me. I am not yet defiled; O hear me, Let not Perseus who is warrior or who thinks he is King      or a rival to me. I am not yet defiled; O fill me With gasoline against those who would inhabit my   bones, would sink me into empty caverns,     would make me a prisoner locked, a monster with       blood dripping, a monster, and a passer of dis-ease         who would execute my self, would           flush me like ***** oozing and             ***** and ooze and *****               like alcohol seeping in the                 pores would drown me. Let Poseidan not make me defiled and let him not **** me. Otherwise **** me. © Sia Jane
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39
Gold or silver, every day, Dies to gray. There are knots in every skein. Hours of work and hours of play Fade away Into one immense Inane. Shadow and substance, chaff and grain, Are as vain As the foam or as the spray. Life goes crooning, faint and fain, One refrain: 'If it could be always May!' Though the earth be green and gay, Though, they say, Man the cup of heaven may drain; Though, his little world to sway, He display Hoard on hoard of pith and brain: Autumn brings a mist and rain That constrain Him and his to know decay, Where undimmed the lights that wane Would remain, If it could be always May. Yea, alas, must turn to nay, Flesh to clay. Chance and Time are ever twain. Men may scoff, and men may pray, But they pay Every pleasure with a pain. Life may soar, and Fortune deign To explain Where her prizes hide and stay; But we lack the ***** train We should gain, If it could be always May. Envoy Time, the pedagogue, his cane Might retain, But his charges all would stray Truanting in every lane-- Jack with Jane-- If it could be always May.
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1.7k
Ballade Of Truisms
It has been so long since I last saw you, Haven't thought about you in a while so I thought I was good Recently I have been asking myself why I think about you so much- I think about all our shared memories and how I was touched I thought I had no problem moving on and forgetting our past; I did not expect that my lingering feelings for you would last "Why couldn't I just accept your love and stay?" I have been asking myself this question every day I have forgotten your voice, your looks, your smile My memories of you have been cast away in a messy pile I miss the way you would understand, Listen carefully and be there whenever I needed a hand I miss the way you could read my mind; Know what to say even when the words were hard to find I miss the way you could put a smile on my face; Make the stresses go away and help me forget my mistakes You'll never read this but I want you to know: The truth behind my decisions, and that I was loyal The letters we exchanged were few but meaningful, They are the only things I can currently cling onto I hope that you have been doing well, I really do Staying away from you is probably the best thing I can do for you I am really sorry for the hurtful, regretful things I have done to you, Although you say that it's fine, I still feel so guilty for what ensued Mixed feelings start overwhelming me as I am seeing you soon, Am I nervous, excited, or over the moon? I don't know how you feel but I hope to set things right again, Maybe we can be good friends again if my feelings I can constrain 21/11/2021
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Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 12:16 PM UTC
Overwhelmed
It has been so long since I last saw you, Haven't thought about you in a while so I thought I was good Recently I have been asking myself why I think about you so much- I think about all our shared memories and how I was touched I thought I had no problem moving on and forgetting our past; I did not expect that my lingering feelings for you would last "Why couldn't I just accept your love and stay?" I have been asking myself this question every day I have forgotten your voice, your looks, your smile My memories of you have been cast away in a messy pile I miss the way you would understand, Listen carefully and be there whenever I needed a hand I miss the way you could read my mind; Know what to say even when the words were hard to find I miss the way you could put a smile on my face; Make the stresses go away and help me forget my mistakes You'll never read this but I want you to know: The truth behind my decisions, and that I was loyal The letters we exchanged were few but meaningful, They are the only things I can currently cling onto I hope that you have been doing well, I really do Staying away from you is probably the best thing I can do for you I am really sorry for the hurtful, regretful things I have done to you, Although you say that it's fine, I still feel so guilty for what ensued Mixed feelings start overwhelming me as I am seeing you soon, Am I nervous, excited, or over the moon? I don't know how you feel but I hope to set things right again, Maybe we can be good friends again if my feelings I can constrain 21/11/2021
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29
All thought the night The stars and the moon are so bright My feelings are hard to constrain But I stand here alone with my pain Now here I stand The cold bitter wind on my hands But I got a firm grip understand These feelings for you were not planed Holding on To these feelings for you Holding on Not sure what to do Holding on And it's not fair to you Holding on Now comes the dawn A golden blue sky coming on The warmth on my face I can feel Please tell me this pain is not real And in my heart These feelings for you I impart And the tears I don't want them to start Cause that's when it all falls apart Holding on To these feelings for you Holding on Not sure what to do Holding on And it's not fair to you Holding on
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Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:30 AM UTC
Holding On
I am not some mere romantic Hopelessly in love or seemingly frantic I am simply a man with sophomoric antics. Closing in fast and with my dreams supplanted By what I can only imagine is a place unwieldily for simple magic. For there are no dragons of ancient lore, Nor, for me, beautifully tantalizing ****** But simply mistakes of my past, to reach me at last. I imagine everyone creates this place of loathings' past. While some do not believe in hell defined by a scripture, I assure you somewhere in your eternal slumber you will experience the guilt of past discomfort. I pray it is only for a second for you, not minutes or hours or years or eternities. But to whom will I pray? Myself I dare not say. However there is no man in the sky to consider my actions against me, there is no entity impartial to judge lonely old me. There will always be a standard for justice, good, evil, loyalty, infidelity, and of course, people. But who is our judge? Is it not oneself? And if not, then who else? I say none have the authority to constrain one but himself. And if he wish to abide by his own moral abomination, too far outside similar creations. His life, it will be taken.
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Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC
Introspection is Creation
Locking under your swollen, cracked lips, a taste of unrequited freedom draws near. These ****** streams that seep through my pores are yours, as much as they are mine. Trace yourself around me, as the red tears under my walls escape and dribble down your limp touch. Feel the gears that constrain me. Hold me, love me. As my fingers glide across your face, I find my secret hiding place. Eyes blink, as soon as they meet. Soon to be defeated by rational delusions. It’s not so scary after all.
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Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 11:05 AM UTC
In the End
The churning *** keeps my family one The fog of delight hides us from the sun A taste of complacence to keep me compliant Frames of despair keep the hallways’ alignment This battleship lands in Australia for now And burns its own flag along with sundown The captain is weak, the crewmen have perished The telescope frowns when it scans the cherished The cook yells, “My, with the onions, I cry!” The maid is convinced,by her use of lye, That this is a happy crew of the sea Where everyone’s something to puke except me I stayed on the bridge with a knife in my eye The pensive maiden disarms with a sigh Here lies the painting of a family brew The mirror, indifferent of me, is true Metal footsteps of a boy led blind The chef and the captain maintain their grind And thrive in contrivance of a world kept stable Where all the rules lie in the food of a table The boy has been strung across the bridge, politely And left to a tool of love, coded tightly There is nothing in the night’s facade of blue I’m a ***** to the smell of the ship-crew’s stew
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Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
Constrain the Pacific
Secrets of Wysteria flow in the vessels of my brain And so I do not hear, nor comprehend the calling of my thought’s train Vowing to never be held again in constrain Eradicating the rotten fingers pointing to my disdain Muses of bruises, callouses, and roses Excuses the clueless, hung in ruin’s nooses Flagitious tongue sharpens itself with sprawling centipedes Rusted teeth from perilous mandibles bleed as it feeds On the oozing, ****** veins of the wicked ****** as it pleads Maybe these are too much for one’s avaricious needs? Mindful, careful, piercing the syringe of refrain on plump flesh Yeuking as the substance flows on blood so raw and fresh Amid all, the past and future gather in Sheol’s pavilion But missing is the presence of present in emblazing vermillion Yet fleetly missed as the siren descanted her composition Somber statues of ivory pretense witness with volition Saints and snakes tear each other’s throats in a languish cotillion.
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Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 8:15 AM UTC
Miss Psychotic's Broken Records
the beast in me wants to romp and enrage the beast in you tonight you see my beast is locked up in chains, a fearful cell-- locked tight but when yours calls mine it answers with unabashed delight "set me free," it begs and the shadows grow with fright with myself and my desire my deadly determination that I—I am right then your pet answers me and out they fly—sparks and gunpowder ignite the beasts in lethal fury grievances, protests, objections recite unfettered, unchained, and uncontrolled they spin, they soar, they destroy they fight we lock away our agency our wisdom—our love from sight our pets are eating us, my dear! we look at each other and mourn, contrite too late.  the damaged flesh has uncovered our bones and shown us each bite there is no return. but perhaps if we wrestle, unite? with every power we strive: we send those animals back into the night when the morning breaks at last have we gained insight? are we richer than before? do we know any more with hindsight? is it worth the blood we bore as our beasts fought before daylight? silence. there is no good from letting the beast pretend to be a knight we have not won this day; the events do nothing but indict we must build cages that hold our beasts that constrain this ugly temper more tight and keep our hands off the latches because love is always better than spite
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Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
the beast inside me
Constrain me Lock me away To save me In your mind Or closet Or under your bed Packed To find me When you shake When you scream Store me And forget me So when you expect me least There I will be. Carnivorously. Holding you down Your flesh between my jaws Seething Breathing Through teeth
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 11:58 PM UTC
Look, My Eyes, Before You Go
it refuses to leave a lashing soaring tide the frozen etch of past on ripples of my mind the shattered reverie forged into scripted moves fading out as weeks yet vivid i assume which mirrors as a rift between the sea of love sandwiched reluctantly with turgid smiles of a pair of sunken hearts dissected by the world be lost unto our fate as oceans conceal pearls across the breadth of life by breed of hailing wise who pompously reject shackle our maiden flight constrain the gayle till dawn repress the blooms of time yet shadowed by romance still dream along shall i behope a spring of sun which fills this yawning void behold the scents of spring beneath your cursive smile to wait upon a day yearning for misty greens dressed up in coils of love until eternity to ooze a sight of heaven to bleed a laugh again even as stale horizons fervently await a day which breathes upon brilliance of tranquil nights surround a whirl of stars and kiss our florid sky as bristling autumns flow from her dreamy eyes my maestro shall compose the adagio of life
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
adagio
A simple smile that can cut through clouds as ominous as my fears. A touch that can constrain my thoughts into a silent warm room. Words that can save a lost soul from drowning in themselves. A heart that is pure, patient, and persistent. You are the reason the sky is blue and not gray. You are the energy I need to ignite a lingering thought that terrorizes my brain. Forever moving and adapting to my contradictions. Forever still and strong as I travel down a road I must take; that may well break me into many tiny pieces that will fill the lungs and stomachs of all that I love. Suffocating them into extinction and spreading across fields like wild fire. Then I am back. Back to you… Home. O.K. Still walking, still fighting I know now this fight is no longer just for me, but for all those who will suffer from my broken pieces. All those who live in a world I do not understand. And then I am back. You are what keeps me up when I am no longer able to put a foot in front of the other. I just need to remember to comeback. Never letting these tiny morsels of my truths take me too far from you. Always keeping my hand in yours. Always taking each step with you in sight. I need to always remember the place I can fall to is REAL and it can tear away all that is dear to me. I promise to come back always to you. Because your simple smile can cut through clouds as ominous as my fears. Your touch can constrain my thoughts into a silent warm room. Your words can save this lost soul from drowning in themselves. Your heart always pure, patient, and persistent I will always come back to you.
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Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
On My Bad Days
A simple smile that can cut through clouds as ominous as my fears. A touch that can constrain my thoughts into a silent warm room. Words that can save a lost soul from drowning in themselves. A heart that is pure, patient, and persistent. You are the reason the sky is blue and not gray. You are the energy I need to ignite a lingering thought that terrorizes my brain. Forever moving and adapting to my contradictions. Forever still and strong as I travel down a road I must take; that may well break me into many tiny pieces that will fill the lungs and stomachs of all that I love. Suffocating them into extinction and spreading across fields like wild fire. Then I am back. Back to you… Home. O.K. Still walking, still fighting I know now this fight is no longer just for me, but for all those who will suffer from my broken pieces. All those who live in a world I do not understand. And then I am back. You are what keeps me up when I am no longer able to put a foot in front of the other. I just need to remember to comeback. Never letting these tiny morsels of my truths take me too far from you. Always keeping my hand in yours. Always taking each step with you in sight. I need to always remember the place I can fall to is REAL and it can tear away all that is dear to me. I promise to come back always to you. Because your simple smile can cut through clouds as ominous as my fears. Your touch can constrain my thoughts into a silent warm room. Your words can save this lost soul from drowning in themselves. Your heart always pure, patient, and persistent I will always come back to you.
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26
No agony is greater than the yoke Men fastened round my love Her lines they bounded with metres Her flow they have blocked with patterns and rhymes Her end they constrain with rules I crave the freedom to paint her as I deem fit She's born of my thoughts and feelings Sorrow would be less so If there were rules to grieving I'm breaking her rules
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
Breaking Her Rules
As pure as water can be, in an affluent and wealthy country, My soul has a Cornelian dilemma when it comes to purity. How can we be good people when we live so easily? Innocents are dying of thirst and I take a bath every other day. Does it really count if one buys organic and fair-trade items, When it is that easy, that accessible, and they are still hungry over there? But what else are we allowed to do, that is not too compelling? What can our money do, when all it does now constrain others? I try every day to be as good, as pure, as I am able to Though I still feel futile, small... and unrealistically optimistic.
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
An Unrealistically Optimist
Consumed by the flames By the flames Start the fire, I need you to feel this As high as it can go, I need to feel it Light the fire, you want me to feel this We want to see how high we can go We want to be consumed by the flames Take a risk, make a wish Until then, stay cool After this, you will never be the same This isn't right, I close my eyes Prepare myself for the falling sky I caused so much harm, I don't know why I've had my lows, I had my highs I did my best, now I return With a clean slate and a lesson learned I've been mocked, betrayed and scorned But now I know everything can burn Consumed by the flames Take aim Take blame Play games Cause pain Call names Make claims Suppressing feelings, I'm going numb I can't eat, sleep or see where your coming from I try to excite myself, lust and near death's never help I accept death and **** life and the hand I'm dealt I've ignored the truth, avoided responsibility But it's in the back of my mind kicking constantly Now it's time do pay my do's I'm through with tries I refuse to come back with a consolation prize Consumed by the flames Be tamed Break chains Disclaim Proclaim Insane No shame Turn it up, let them watch Turn me out, I can't be stopped Nowhere else to go, carrying my woes Turning into someone I don't even know Just paying back everything I owe I've come this far, so I've come this far Let the flames consume me In vain Fast lane Life's strain Constrain Left brain Profane I should have listened But hear me now
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Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
By The Flames
Consumed by the flames By the flames Start the fire, I need you to feel this As high as it can go, I need to feel it Light the fire, you want me to feel this We want to see how high we can go We want to be consumed by the flames Take a risk, make a wish Until then, stay cool After this, you will never be the same This isn't right, I close my eyes Prepare myself for the falling sky I caused so much harm, I don't know why I've had my lows, I had my highs I did my best, now I return With a clean slate and a lesson learned I've been mocked, betrayed and scorned But now I know everything can burn Consumed by the flames Take aim Take blame Play games Cause pain Call names Make claims Suppressing feelings, I'm going numb I can't eat, sleep or see where your coming from I try to excite myself, lust and near death's never help I accept death and **** life and the hand I'm dealt I've ignored the truth, avoided responsibility But it's in the back of my mind kicking constantly Now it's time do pay my do's I'm through with tries I refuse to come back with a consolation prize Consumed by the flames Be tamed Break chains Disclaim Proclaim Insane No shame Turn it up, let them watch Turn me out, I can't be stopped Nowhere else to go, carrying my woes Turning into someone I don't even know Just paying back everything I owe I've come this far, so I've come this far Let the flames consume me In vain Fast lane Life's strain Constrain Left brain Profane I should have listened But hear me now
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56
It's silly how I found you so weird How I laughed silently at how lame your jokes were How I cried silently at how I had to explain how nothing was your fault It's silly how I regret, yet constrain myself Because as much as I think of you, I hate you for the things you said. It's silly how you have no idea, sillier that you probably never will But I never want to see your face again, Although you made me smile. You made me feel things when I didn't know how to, And it makes me happy sometimes. The other times, I hate you for using me. And sometimes, I hate you for messing around, I also hate you for killing my self-esteem. You could call it self-torture, But I rather stay away, Than to allow you to grow flowers in my heart, After pouring acid all over the garden, Twice.
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Groot
The flesh hungers for Vengeance. Beneath, blood runs hot, Blood lust rising Barely contained. Black whispers with Silver tongues Caress fresh wounds With shadow tendrils. Dark wings, dark words, Fire is fueled as Gilded shackles constrain. Chafed wrists bleed with Fresh Vigor. The Blood is the life, Falls wearily to the floor. Hot crimson stark Against the unforgiving stone. Rage fades to agony. The weight of despair, Crushing. Strength of the Hammer, Phoenix Rising, Come What May...
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Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 6:32 PM UTC
The Black Sheep