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"consumate" poems
Basil is a fruit bat Who flies through the trees, And flying is what fruit bats do With the most consumate ease, He flies until he comes to The place he's looking for Where the figs grow in abundance And he feasts till he can feast no more. Now I wonder what then happens When nature's functions call And when he's hanging upside down, Where does his wee and poo all fall? Tom Higgins 12/05/2014
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Basil the Fruit Bat
We yield for funeral processions; not for the living, skulls and bones; sells just as much as *** these days. Our shiny teeth; buried in the fruit to our gums, vve glorify this dovvnfall: consume,              consume,                           consumate.
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May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
American death culture
Slip the knife in to feel incredible Uppity old fiend Consumate and scheme A ragged representation Reveal yourself offscreen You ain't all what you used to be. Dopamine disconnect Reprint the picture Surrealist architect Initiate surrender
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Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
Election Day Dope
In my game everything goes a little better In my life victory taste a little bitter Im far too cold to care about the weather I guess god is right and i am just a sinner I hope you leave so I can start to miss you Fearing the world is a step too far I like to live in a special place of solitude I guess it helps to wonder where you are When will the rain come and segrigate The orgin and the man so intertwined When did the hateful consumate I guess i'll leave my identity in mind And when the times comes Dont get me wrong, i hope it does too And when the last chime rings Dont get me wrong, i hear them too And when the lights start flickering Dont misunderstand my state of mind And when someone comes looking I'll drag my nails acrost the chalkboard So i can stay here forever, and create clever pictures
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC
Chalkboard State of Mind
the cicada's have begun to emerge after seventeen long years as a dormant miner they arise, pushing through seveteen years of dust and compounded muclch, breaking out into a brave new world and for seventy two hours, if they are lucky they seek to mate, to consumate to extend their species some become garish decorations on truck windscreens some become exhibits in a small boys jam jar zoo some become waylaid and sing their cacophonial opus on barren concrete patio's some become Sunday dinners to peckish nestlings some succeed gloriously, then die happy some don't...succeed...and die wondering but apparently seventeen years ago... a lot succeded... if the booming base opera being performed is a gauge of the primeval drive of the cicada it is summer eve in the burbs and the living is..... noisy....
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Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
at last......
For many years you proffered friendship, albeit now, in disguise For all that time, I held in trust, the warm expression in your eyes, You claimed you worked hard, by my side, to help me build a dream, a cause, And in return I gave for you sir, this understanding without pause. The legions of referrals then, I steered, deflecting to your say And trust, invested mightily, gave you the right to have your way, Dependence there, a factor, over many years support Now the barefaced lie revealed, the friendship, friend, was but a rort! Revealed, you milked it all for gain. Revealed, You snickered at my pain, Laughed aloud, you played the fool and laughed outrageously, so cruel. It robbed me of all self regard, a comrade’s mantle caste in lard, I cried and wept for what was lost, then sat and quietly counted cost. Betrayal, cold, lies on the shelf, to know thy foe… reflects thyself. Marshalg Pukehana 14 November 2013
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
A Consumate Indignation
She is the water bearing spirit near the lake at night Combine this mild duality to trickle down and decide. What trusty steed to ride upon What unwritten creed to follow through To follow a path rarely walked along with such blessings from a single few. A connection split by folicles Words spoke and motions methodical Cherished cohabitation and an Astonishing Conflugration That rewards our Versimilitude with love. My four hands can guide you my steady minds can show Though i carry less than water My true passion is to grow. My mild to frank multiplicity Your Bold and cautious stance to consumate our loves authenticity I'll, for you, rarely take this chance.
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Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 12:50 PM UTC
the complications that surface with the coupling of the Dioskouroi and Hudrokhoös
I was walking down the aisle. Nervous as can be. On the arm's of the person standing next to me. Leading me to the person. Who purposed to me? I just could feel my knees just a shakening. Soon I was standing before the person. Who would soon be my spouse? Listening to the minister's lay out the vows. As my hand sweat. I know my soon significant other hands must be half wet. I just know my knees just a shakening. I know I barely heard those vowful words. Do you take_________to be my? Forvever more through sickess and health. Cause I know it's that only. Because we have no wealth. And then the minister turn those vows around. Do you take__________to be my? I was so nervous I couldn't look him/her in the eyes. Until the ring hit my hands. And I bursted into a smile. My knees was still a shaken. Oh, I'm wondering now about tonight. When we must consumate it. Will my knees still be shaken? Or will hours later I'll be smiling. I just hope I don't faints.
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Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 7:51 AM UTC
The Wedding Shaken Day
She fell in love with the man we called husband We were all part of her love story. As she walked towards her future and with watery eyes turned to wave us goodbye we sealed her fate with cries of "don't worry." "He's a good man and he'll take care of you and the babies you will bear. In five years time you will get used to The rhythm and pressures of marriage. Be like your friend, Ta Sallah...three children and counting." She fell in love with a man she called husband. Did she or we assumed, planned and gave our blessing To what she considered a curse and prison. They said they found him naked and unconscious Hoping to consumate the union which he had bought. The doctors wondered why his daughter was huddled in a corner But the riddle was solved when she was named as one of the wives. "He was biting me," she said in between sobs. The poor thing wasn't even mature enough to understand foreplay. She was not in love with the man we called husband. He lies unconscious on a hospital bed while society ridicules her for her actions. Now, he's the victim and she's the criminal. He took her innocence yet all you see is a wicked woman. There lies your mistake... She is the infant bride of a bearded old man.
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May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
A Man Called Husband
The Person who provokes thought should brace for an onslaught/ I know thats what I said Ten thousand hours I practice patients/ Now I'm weightless/ Was a slippery slope thus I stuck to the basics/ This Express I deliver the Galaxy Ispaceship/ My literature literally comes from the lesson of Thoth/ Scholarship cold calls At least thats what I thought/ At most I didn't think/ Wim Hof An idiot servant at being an idiot of course/ The source combined it/ The science in God Gods in the Science/ Engineered every mind at its finest/ Resolve Nothing to prove/ I was intelligently ignorant I didn't know what I couldn't do/ Such bliss Some one stop please stop me/ Im off in a corner trying to understand fibonacci/ Lock key and throw it/ I'm not leaving this **** room until I know it/ Pardon My French If you notice/ A consumate contemplater yes I lament/ OK i'm bracing.
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Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
$&@#Reader Disrcretion@&$%
Watch out for the sharks. They've evolved behind closed doors And walk the streets Without you even noticing. Their killer teeth hide Behind a dentist's wet dream And their fins are hidden Under designer threads. They learnt from the wolf Who has hung up his Woollen overcoat And passed the baton. Watch out for sharks They're the consumate liars Who believe their own crap Watch out for sharks We're just little fish In a dangerous pond
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Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
Dangerous waters
Flaws don't give birth to people Mistakes can't go into labour Hatred can have spawn Judgment can't consumate Labour is what brings life Labour pulls an idea into existence You are not born for the knife You are not born to give up on the distance Your are not born of a flaw or mistake For you were not mistook You were labored for You are not your flaws, but you are your laborers greatest creation!
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
Birth
. Ya say ya love me (?) Yeah yeah sure Hey I'm glad ta hear it Makes my day really ta hear it )( Say well really I gotta go Now What was your name again ! Yeah right That's it ! Say we'll get together soon And consumate your love Yeah yeah Sure Sure I'm glad ta know   .
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Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
... yeah yeah ( sure )
You're scared. Something about me arouses the forgotten ashes. The ones that have been spread far and wide in the back of your mind. I can tell that your involvement with me lights up parts of your brain that sends an SOS signal to your entire core. There's something within me that doesn't allow you to function how you'd like too. I'm skipping turnstiles and playing musical chairs in your brain, lighting up familiar triggers you can't quite figure. That's why you act like a relucilant adolescent, who only knows complications. You're not really complicated, you're stubborn. That's why your kisses are limited. Your touch is always as distant as possible. Reluctant at times. There's parts of me you're too afraid to touch, to maraud. Your lack of receptiveness completely turns me off. Makes me want to runaway without a say. Yet I know it'd be far more better if I played with fire and ignited a fire from your cupid's bow to your toes. Cease a fire across your body that you cannot calm. A fire that would consume your entirety. Devour your being. One that sparks your soul. & with my bare hands seed a soil that's been in need of loving. I have a fire match ready for you, hand delivered by a cherub. Let us consumate a taboo, you say when. Quickly I'll slide my thumb down the side of your lip, with my index finger adjacent to your top lip, cupping my fingers in, I'll pour in you the sweetest gasoline. Within you I'll ignite the parts you've neglected so much. Within you, they'll be a big bang, it'll be where our new love began.
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Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 12:25 AM UTC
A train
You're scared. Something about me arouses the forgotten ashes. The ones that have been spread far and wide in the back of your mind. I can tell that your involvement with me lights up parts of your brain that sends an SOS signal to your entire core. There's something within me that doesn't allow you to function how you'd like too. I'm skipping turnstiles and playing musical chairs in your brain, lighting up familiar triggers you can't quite figure. That's why you act like a relucilant adolescent, who only knows complications. You're not really complicated, you're stubborn. That's why your kisses are limited. Your touch is always as distant as possible. Reluctant at times. There's parts of me you're too afraid to touch, to maraud. Your lack of receptiveness completely turns me off. Makes me want to runaway without a say. Yet I know it'd be far more better if I played with fire and ignited a fire from your cupid's bow to your toes. Cease a fire across your body that you cannot calm. A fire that would consume your entirety. Devour your being. One that sparks your soul. & with my bare hands seed a soil that's been in need of loving. I have a fire match ready for you, hand delivered by a cherub. Let us consumate a taboo, you say when. Quickly I'll slide my thumb down the side of your lip, with my index finger adjacent to your top lip, cupping my fingers in, I'll pour in you the sweetest gasoline. Within you I'll ignite the parts you've neglected so much. Within you, they'll be a big bang, it'll be where our new love began.
Continue reading...
1
He loves women As much as he loves Himself Promising her the moon While handing the stars to another. A consumate poker player They never see the truth Hidden within his eyes. If he kept one eye on the table He'd see she has upped the ante And her heart's at risk
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
Risky games