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"counterattack" poems
Freedom, sweet freedom, I wish for thy. My masters are cruel and mean and sly. Freedom, sweet freedom, Oh how I wish to be my own “man”. I wish for wages and clothes, instead of doing my master’s evil plan. Freedom, sweet freedom, I can almost taste it when I am with him. Not suppose to help him, I am not, but if I don’t his future is grim. Freedom, sweet freedom, I found in a form of a sock. Master was tricked, it was quite a shock. Freedom, sweet freedom, though life is great now, it still is not fine. No one wants a house elf that has demands like mine. Freedom, sweet freedom, An old man was so kind. He gave me a job and pay and time off to unwind. Freedom, sweet freedom, the dark lord is back. I will do all I can to help my young wizard friends counterattack. Freedom, sweet freedom, I think my time here has to come to an end. Glad I am to leave in the arms of my friend. (Rest in Peace Dobby)
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Freedom, Sweet Freedom
Right now I am in a library with my English class Hiding Hiding from my teacher Like A worm Hiding from an eagle But what is my life to a worm's? Worms enjoy call of duty just as much as any other American Swaguespack counterattack my girl is black
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Magnet High School is Cool
The cursed clouds decide to stay Through this blacked out phase So I proceed to play During darkened days Swirling black In a sky of flak The courage I lack To counterattack Bombs explode Smoke blocks the sun Now that I know Dying can be fun To the finish line I run After I feel I am done The sky gets darker By permanent markers The sun hides The dude abides I am under a curse Of things getting worse I look for a nurse Out the back of my hearse Love can be found And unwound No one is bound So they leave town The days used to be bright Until I found reasons to fight And the grass died When my *** lied I can't retrieve the light When I am blinded I'm unable to use sight So I cannot find it Darkened days Block the sun's rays I can't see through the haze Of these darkened days Time passes Like lightning flashes And depleting drug stashes Impeding love's crashes When I'm burnt to ashes I don't know if I'm romantic Or in an existential crisis But as I become tantric I feel I must fight this So I wield a sword Of tears that poured For those I adored Until they brought darkness Despite my praise When they act heartless I live darkened days
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Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Darkened Days
First gelid dawn of the dying year. A crescent moon shivers above achromatic frost. Four crows perch like fluffy black lumps of ice on taut power lines. Hungry sparrows peck the severe ground. The old poet fears the cold. Chilled eyes notice bare ruined trees and windshields waiting to be scraped. The earth has pulled the covers up around its neck, wakes stiff and slow, but stays in bed. Cold's bony fingers probe the old house like burglars seeking points of entry. Still, the chill roads point toward the inevitable return of warmth;                   spring sits silent as a cat waiting for a door to open, bidding its time to counterattack. Even on the most algid morning hope slumbers, but never dies.   ~mce
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Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Brumal Daybreak
You are a bird flying near. A simple graze of my arm a feather kept, a loss of fear. And this is not temporary. You are a parade. Your trumpets, your drums reinventing the copyrighted charade. It's not a trick-it's rudimentary. You are fresh squeezed lemonade. When the sweat cannot be quelled, you forge trees for shade. But speaking of you is just supplementary. You are the long drive back. Every worm in the miles of dirt can hear this counterattack- especially those four days of January. You are my trustworthy veins, our frivolously necessary games, and the smell of relentless rains. These senses, put blunt yet gently, manifest nothing less than your infinite trajectory.
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
Supplementary
The spoilt demons coil out the merriment which I feel inside my heart to rid off their vibes which lead them towards insecurities. They just want their needs to be served and cravings to be fulfilled. They have a virtual dissent from my claim that I own them. They think they are inherently independent and will always remain. Their coherent behavior has made me remember the words of those royalties which used to persuade me about the existence of these demons and I used to seize those remarks and then try so hard to make them slip away like a gushing sand so I could make an excuse that they were non-existent. Those royalties were brimmed with a longitude of wisdom and a latitude of experience. I still feel the vibes of those affliction which these demons send towards my way so I might get mutilated through them. But, they fail each time. After collapsing from a great height of my courage, they just enclose themselves in a prairie of desolation. I abduct them in the cage of my valor and ask them about their endeavors which they have channelized to make me their captive. I ask them about the further strategies of crushing me down. Their weak laughter spills out everything whatever they yearn to utter but then those utterance is roped by the pull of tongue and these ****** black holes become silent and remain in an unanswered state forever. I plunged deep into my perplexities and found my answers myself. Those answers didn't dazzle because I guess my introspection triumphed this time. Those answers came up with a ****** of agonies and a drummer of torments. The only thing which was in scarce was the tumultuous droughts of wisdom which nulls out the ferocious waves of experience. I couldn't do anything except closing my eyes and going with the flow. Alas! I could destroy those ****** dark holes forever. They still can transform into various ways because they are 'independent' demons. Let counterattack their modes of transmission so they can get dependent on me. But, wait, what if I invited them myself through my vengeance and rage..Then, they will have a right to maintain an usurp ********** on me and I would be devastated. Lets just go with the flow and enjoy the perks of Dementia ——forgetfulness.
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Degenerative Rufflings
The spoilt demons coil out the merriment which I feel inside my heart to rid off their vibes which lead them towards insecurities. They just want their needs to be served and cravings to be fulfilled. They have a virtual dissent from my claim that I own them. They think they are inherently independent and will always remain. Their coherent behavior has made me remember the words of those royalties which used to persuade me about the existence of these demons and I used to seize those remarks and then try so hard to make them slip away like a gushing sand so I could make an excuse that they were non-existent. Those royalties were brimmed with a longitude of wisdom and a latitude of experience. I still feel the vibes of those affliction which these demons send towards my way so I might get mutilated through them. But, they fail each time. After collapsing from a great height of my courage, they just enclose themselves in a prairie of desolation. I abduct them in the cage of my valor and ask them about their endeavors which they have channelized to make me their captive. I ask them about the further strategies of crushing me down. Their weak laughter spills out everything whatever they yearn to utter but then those utterance is roped by the pull of tongue and these ****** black holes become silent and remain in an unanswered state forever. I plunged deep into my perplexities and found my answers myself. Those answers didn't dazzle because I guess my introspection triumphed this time. Those answers came up with a ****** of agonies and a drummer of torments. The only thing which was in scarce was the tumultuous droughts of wisdom which nulls out the ferocious waves of experience. I couldn't do anything except closing my eyes and going with the flow. Alas! I could destroy those ****** dark holes forever. They still can transform into various ways because they are 'independent' demons. Let counterattack their modes of transmission so they can get dependent on me. But, wait, what if I invited them myself through my vengeance and rage..Then, they will have a right to maintain an usurp ********** on me and I would be devastated. Lets just go with the flow and enjoy the perks of Dementia ——forgetfulness.
Continue reading...
1
I bet you thought it was going to have something to do with snow Well you weren't wrong, I just said it Yet you are wrong You think I'm that easy? You think you can predict me so well Too bad You can't do that You cannot read my mind the way you think you can I'm not your average experiment You don't see my smiles My laughs You don't see my plan It's the counterattack Think I'm easy, think I'm simple You think I'll play right into your hands? I'd think the same if I was you Everything is planned Every hug, tear and laugh It's all planned When we part You'll be the one trying to hold on I won't depend on you I'm not your experiment I'm not that easy You don't know **** on what's going on up in there I know and I'll make an experiment Continue like this and You might be next Or maybe I live under the same illusion of being being able to read you Is it a white lie to say I don't care?
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Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
White Lie
Twas accursed destiny since birth alack nascent emasculation abominable barrack emergent deus ex machina, viz zit ting older sibling counterattack thirteen plus chronological gap eldest sister struck like diamondback surrogate "mother" role assumed tubby exact protectorate pseudo fullback against cruel beastie boys bullying barbs comeuppance giveback pummeling spongiform gray matter (yours truly) fisticuffs she didst highjack proxy mothering kept corporeal essence intact jilting nefarious nemesis aligned (maligning) and stalking, this fee-fi-fo-fum ordinary bean sized Jack are runt (arrant) cowardly (non lion) nerdy lad owning a knack courage lack this glum older married chap doth adumbrate satisfactory accomplishments lack king, where crazy quilt aimless wandering described purposeless multitrack thus, sympathetic to hue men/women nonblack or decimated aborigines once populating Australian outback existential nihilism would, undergirding hypothetical unwritten paperback with little need to prevaricate, nor appear as quack *** one measly **** sapiens, who accrued millennial palimpsest zeitgeist where, punctured disequilibreated psyche dust rack asper protean (in utero) multitudinous setback soundlessly resonating with concussive thwack as this rickety ship of state (a haunted junk ket) unwanted emotional ballast to unpack asseveration, asper assiduously preferably welcoming dry suction no vac jar this pawn (knight wannabe in his bishop rick) torrid me psychological wrack king within (castle keep) complex edifice shackled in dungeon with repast constituting.
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Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
Mine Gerund Tilling Illogical Weltanschauung
Twas accursed destiny since birth alack nascent emasculation abominable barrack emergent deus ex machina, viz zit ting older sibling counterattack thirteen plus chronological gap eldest sister struck like diamondback surrogate "mother" role assumed tubby exact protectorate pseudo fullback against cruel beastie boys bullying barbs comeuppance giveback pummeling spongiform gray matter (yours truly) fisticuffs she didst highjack proxy mothering kept corporeal essence intact jilting nefarious nemesis aligned (maligning) and stalking, this fee-fi-fo-fum ordinary bean sized Jack are runt (arrant) cowardly (non lion) nerdy lad owning a knack courage lack this glum older married chap doth adumbrate satisfactory accomplishments lack king, where crazy quilt aimless wandering described purposeless multitrack thus, sympathetic to hue men/women nonblack or decimated aborigines once populating Australian outback existential nihilism would, undergirding hypothetical unwritten paperback with little need to prevaricate, nor appear as quack *** one measly **** sapiens, who accrued millennial palimpsest zeitgeist where, punctured disequilibreated psyche dust rack asper protean (in utero) multitudinous setback soundlessly resonating with concussive thwack as this rickety ship of state (a haunted junk ket) unwanted emotional ballast to unpack asseveration, asper assiduously preferably welcoming dry suction no vac jar this pawn (knight wannabe in his bishop rick) torrid me psychological wrack king within (castle keep) complex edifice shackled in dungeon with repast constituting.
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58
Give me a reason, To follow you to nowhere. Find me an excuse, To even begin to care. You can right me off as problem, But I'll always linger somewhere. A discarded memory, Life in absence of air. Try to hold me close, Know that I will have my escape. Smile about it now, Cause you know soon it'll be too late. Avoiding the ordinary, Seeming to follow your desolate fate. Thinking of everything that relates to nothing, Tiptoeing through cracked gates. Running from you, Seems to be all too real. Breaking away, From the golden deal. Ruined your life and tainted your soul, Still wanting to see how I make you feel. Holding my collection of jars filled with air, My newfound addiction is loving what I steal. Here I vanish never to come back, Waiting for the counterattack.
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Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
Where Are My Reasons?
Broken and battered my battering ram was sacrificed to the tatters They say it's just another chapter plastered to my purpose Yet I can't shake the feeling that Rapture surfaced for the hermits And these circus serpents that slither like syrup worship the wordless I've got a turtle's curtain on my back It's only a matter of time before the surgeon becomes lumberjack I'd mount a counterattack but I know for a fact my zodiac wouldn't allow it
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Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Done
Not for an emotional counterattack Not for wrath or vengeance Not out of spite, Nor for a hateful message; But today I realized- Unlike before in time- That I cannot keep reaching To make sure you are mine; Why must I try so hard every time, Why am I poisoned to love- I don’t know why.
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Jun 10, 2024
Jun 10, 2024 at 11:00 PM UTC
-unexpected antidote-
The tide rises up the sand And it falls back It seems as if it's unmanned Counterattack The tide is inching up now Then slides away It climbs up the sand somehow Never at stay You see just the constant motion Never at a rest The clock of the open ocean The pull then the crest It looks the same, yet different The push the the pull The flat line of the gradient A part of the whole Years later, the water's now higher Near the steps of your house Yet you think the sand must be drier Nothing is under dowse You a small wall up infront the place So the tide never hits Right now, everything's at little haste Danger, it's at a quits Later you notice the house is flooding The tide rolls up and down there Because the wall could stop only nothing The house is just sea and air You think it is smart to move up the hill "Though the tide climbs, it will fall" "The tide will not stay up, but the house will" "When it rises, it will crawl" Later you here the spinning of the cycle The water is always around Now you know it ill never be idle It goes up, but does it come down? You think it can be fixed, something you can do But two homes are there down under So you blame society, partially true But it was also your blunder Finally, at last, you say you can fix it all But you took too long, it is too late Because the ocean is rising with little fall That’s why you hate the one who is late Because only the mountain is left standing dry All life is certainly out of whack You must recede to the only place that is high The tide rises up the sand and doesn't fall back
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Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 3:01 PM UTC
The tide rises up the sand
The tide rises up the sand And it falls back It seems as if it's unmanned Counterattack The tide is inching up now Then slides away It climbs up the sand somehow Never at stay You see just the constant motion Never at a rest The clock of the open ocean The pull then the crest It looks the same, yet different The push the the pull The flat line of the gradient A part of the whole Years later, the water's now higher Near the steps of your house Yet you think the sand must be drier Nothing is under dowse You a small wall up infront the place So the tide never hits Right now, everything's at little haste Danger, it's at a quits Later you notice the house is flooding The tide rolls up and down there Because the wall could stop only nothing The house is just sea and air You think it is smart to move up the hill "Though the tide climbs, it will fall" "The tide will not stay up, but the house will" "When it rises, it will crawl" Later you here the spinning of the cycle The water is always around Now you know it ill never be idle It goes up, but does it come down? You think it can be fixed, something you can do But two homes are there down under So you blame society, partially true But it was also your blunder Finally, at last, you say you can fix it all But you took too long, it is too late Because the ocean is rising with little fall That’s why you hate the one who is late Because only the mountain is left standing dry All life is certainly out of whack You must recede to the only place that is high The tide rises up the sand and doesn't fall back
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48
Life will push you Keep pushing back Ups and downs will make you feel cracked Some problems are big When others are less compact Some Problems in life will change While new ones will be intact Although It is always up to us On how we react We can Allow life problems to hit us with a Smack! or We can Counterattack with a positive impact
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Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 2:32 PM UTC
CounterAttack