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"crossfire" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
0
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
generation Z
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
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39
Don't let their condecending, backstabbing, whispers blow out your candle- lit heart. For in the darkness even the strong willed, will fall to their knees to **** on the worlds **** So when life happens and you're just a good person thrown in the crossfire of a war you didn't want. Are you going to swallow and make peace or are you going to spit and fight back? Money rules the world. I rule my mind. We're all diamonds just some of us are in the rough. Wrong place at the wrong time.
0
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
C**k Suckers.
The Viet Nam era was a witches brew.Mission creep in Saigon The evening news brought the ****** trips stumbling into my TV dinner, kicking over my Tang. Bouncing Betty went bang Beans and ***** out the can. Guys in my age bracket knew it was safe cause 18 was the magic Number. RESPECT Simon and Garfunkel ,The godfather of soul. What we. Had Here. Was. Failure to Communicate. We were reaching for the stars with one hand and squeezing of rounds with the other. Bobby was in the crossfire Martin would retire, I remember. Guys slinking back home with broken minds Baby killers all. No love ,No jobs. COMBAT FATIGUE. PTSD Came later. Got a monster habit, Nose running of like a racetrack rabbit. Oh yeah Asian Strain Gonorrhea. Penicillin Penishmillin. WTF Hendricks.
0
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
The Nam # 2.5
Parents Front seat Complaining They think I can't hear them But I can "Too expensive" "Didn't want" "Technology addiction" Siblings In the back With the New tech Sometimes fighting Grateful But are they Addicted? Me In the middle Is it good Is it bad How far to go Who to side with Sitting in the crossfire Between X and Z Borderline Millennial Without an army
0
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
Crossfire
I am awake alive. aware. tired... but, so awake ready. content? drained... but, ready. ready for what's next. soak. soak while enveloped in His cloak of soundness, of serenity inconspicuously emerging from the crossfire come to an understanding a consensus with Yourself stay. stay here... in this fractured moment of freedom, of belonging, of peace A breakthrough. Gasp for Air before descending back into perplexity. know know the Answer Believe in the Answer to all those unanswered, unanswerable questions Love the Answer Thank the Answer Breathe आप पूरी तरह से ठीक हैं आप ठीक हो जाएंगे आप ठीक होना पड़ेगा अच्छा? हाँ.
0
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
ज़िन्दा हूँ यार
We all know the story of Romeo and Juliet But this is the untold story of another fair, beautiful Capulet Rosaline as you may come to know Met her demise at the hands of a Montague She was the first object of dear Romeo's affection But for dainty Rosaline, Romeo was not her selection. He desperately tried to win her gaze. She would only give hints to her hearts twisting maze. Faithful to her vows of chastity Another Montague held her key. Benvolio stole her heart and won her affection From first glance she was swept away, a true connection Like the gentle lullaby of a nightingale Her soul composed a symphony on his instrument could play Kissed like the petals of a rose by the morning dew A simple touch of his hand created a overwhelming sensation only they knew Secretly inseparable, hidden romance Their houses would not understand, so they took a very risky chance. Until the day of that faithful fray between Capulet and Montague Rosaline was caught in the crossfire of the two Trying to keep the peace she lunged ahead And at the hand of her true love she was dead. He had not even a heartbeat to react. Blinded by hate, a moment he could never take back. Plagued by loss and despair As if his lungs had been drained of air. As the life left her eyes He died inside. Tragedy washed over their houses. And in the end, Hate won the war, Love was left mangled and destroyed.
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Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
Rosaline's Romance
*In this country I fear for my life Violence today is far from your everyday fight This just doesn't feel right To sit here and not write What has happened to my little Bahama land ? Today people rob and **** for fun Toddlers aren't afraid to wave a gun Im sick to my stomach as I look in disbelief Could being killed be my new destiny What has happened to my little Bahama land ? Innocent people caught in crossfire All from stupid incidents that had been transpired 130 murders! Rings in my ears Young children around me shedding tears What has happened to my little Bahama land ? Sun , sand and sea? Means nothing if innocently killed mothers cant enjoy it with me I am the youth and I will be the change I'll do it hand by hand I beg plead and ask What has happened to my little ol Bahama land ? ~ Rae Lauren*
0
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Paranoia
web of lies to cover your web of desires kept me in the dark away from the hearth of the fire I gave you my heart and you threw it into the fire blew our chances like a match, kept me as an option So I let it rain hellfire and watched your towers fall my pride made me destructive I found solace in the destruction you played me like a record but I am onto the next track you sound like a broken record, need to sit with the lack caught in the crossfire, I did everything right but you manipulate me out of spite want to have all the options, both pieces of cake I cannot wait for you to meet the same fate.
0
Dec 31, 2021
Dec 31, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
fated solace
So we soldiered on Because the lives we led were held on battlefields. We trudged onward But it felt like we were stuck there forever Amidst the crossfire. Dodging make believe bullets That whistled sweet melodies to our ears. We were camouflage. Trekking undetected Through the world. But the war is over. A few casualties still unaccounted for On the bloodied floors. Whatever happened to no man left behind?
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May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Camouflage
A scene too obscene to be believed when it's seen Like an acid trip intersecting with a wet dream Where reality becomes a second thought And you and I were caught or maybe lost in the crossfire of hungry hearts I breathe you in whenever you're around there's a code to my heart that unlocks with the sound of your voice in a humorous shout through the crowd But what once was so loud it shook me to the ground burned so bright it may have burned out the Chaos is Dead - All is Quiet now And where there once was great noise as joy did abound is stricken with silence like A Forest of Frozen Clowns
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
A Forest of Frozen Clowns
My child, As you watch your worlds get torn apart With a malevolence you can’t comprehend, Please do not throw yourself into the crossfire, This is a war you cannot mend. Their anger is too deep-rooted, Their hurt is much too strong, They will insist on going down fighting, And refuse to see where they are wrong. Find shelter from this constant storm, Please close your eyes and ears. They won’t listen to your pleading, They choose not to see your tears. Your screams won’t penetrate their spiteful resolve, Your little voice will go unheard, You have no choice but to be strong now; A responsibility so undeserved. My child, you cannot help them As they stand firm on this battle site. You must know this will be one of many, There is too much wrong to put right. If they could see how their bellowing makes you recoil, See you cowering on your knees, They might take heed of the damage they’re wreaking, Reconsider this incessant, vindictive reprise. But this road is far from ending, So don’t exhaust your resilience here, You must protect yourself from the barrage, For they have not the strength to shield your fears. It will be another long and tiresome night As you are again dragged through this mess, Processing all of their vicious accusations For all that they refuse to confess. So as you watch the two people you revere the most Spit venom at volumes you can’t stand, I beg you not to let it make you hateful - This is not what they had planned. I know how you long to fix it, Desperate to appease their pain, But my child, too much has already been broken, Just please know you are not to blame. I wish I could offer an escape route, Tell you everything will be OK, But there is no choice except to ride out this bitterness, Await the dawn of a new day. And on that day you’ll find a way to forgive them, For destroying everything you knew as home, For their selfishness stealing all innocence And turning safe places into war-zones.
0
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
The Fight
My child, As you watch your worlds get torn apart With a malevolence you can’t comprehend, Please do not throw yourself into the crossfire, This is a war you cannot mend. Their anger is too deep-rooted, Their hurt is much too strong, They will insist on going down fighting, And refuse to see where they are wrong. Find shelter from this constant storm, Please close your eyes and ears. They won’t listen to your pleading, They choose not to see your tears. Your screams won’t penetrate their spiteful resolve, Your little voice will go unheard, You have no choice but to be strong now; A responsibility so undeserved. My child, you cannot help them As they stand firm on this battle site. You must know this will be one of many, There is too much wrong to put right. If they could see how their bellowing makes you recoil, See you cowering on your knees, They might take heed of the damage they’re wreaking, Reconsider this incessant, vindictive reprise. But this road is far from ending, So don’t exhaust your resilience here, You must protect yourself from the barrage, For they have not the strength to shield your fears. It will be another long and tiresome night As you are again dragged through this mess, Processing all of their vicious accusations For all that they refuse to confess. So as you watch the two people you revere the most Spit venom at volumes you can’t stand, I beg you not to let it make you hateful - This is not what they had planned. I know how you long to fix it, Desperate to appease their pain, But my child, too much has already been broken, Just please know you are not to blame. I wish I could offer an escape route, Tell you everything will be OK, But there is no choice except to ride out this bitterness, Await the dawn of a new day. And on that day you’ll find a way to forgive them, For destroying everything you knew as home, For their selfishness stealing all innocence And turning safe places into war-zones.
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49
if you want to leave me behind i understand. your mind had blinders that leave you stubborn you refuse to believe anything good could come of this as if it were up to you alone to hold the weight of the world a goal so admirable yet so misguided you light yourself ablaze & complain that it's too warm as if you didn't pour yourself in gasoline & light the match all this pain you burn yourself in is purely self-inflicted & i got caught in the crossfire you lock me in the coldest recesses of your heart as i watch you burn down the most important thing in my life where are the words to stop you what strings of vowels could my mouth make to push you into the safety of the water? if you would only let me free i would be there to pull you out i promise you i would never let you drown if only you let me be there to be your lifeguard
0
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 6:00 PM UTC
lifeguard
The underlings stare In submissive awestruck Subjugation in landmine-filled Landfills, are stuck In the trenches, the feces The carcass-strewn muck Where the vermin-spawn **** As they're taught how to work And to fend for themselves Like the Fall of Dunkirk As the imminent doomsday device overhead Incapacitates them As mere prey to a web Of a global dominion Ambition connection Subconscious hive-mind Buzzing out the objection And phobia-spreading Pandemic misanthropy Greed in disguise Subsidizing atrocity Not for me, I am The justified treason The reason the man-hunters Close open season The cease-fire peacekeeper Proliferation The water war's rising Desertification An MIA runaway AWOL defector Still haunting the tombs of detente Like a spectre With what I assure Mutually in the end When I send go-aheads On the ICBMs And avenge the dependent expended Caught in This crossfire for-profit Arms race it has been
0
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
Zero Hour
Do you ever want to peel back your own skin? to walk along razors edge bone and muscles scraping bare where sin and flesh dance in a defining din of noise. blood soaking the parched river bed And i am the crossfire sheltering,screaming, pain so sweet but the skin never left so silence the screams and smile for the crowd
0
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
A poem?
i know I could've been the one who caught the bullet instead of you. I could've been in the crossfire of hate. Trayvon will you forgive me for walking up to the ABC store in a hoodie and jeans. I hate that the world has become a place of suspicion. I wish that love could conquer stereotypes. I wish my love could conquer racism and misplaced suspicion. i could've been the man shot down. That's why it's so important to don a hoodie in 80 degrees because the degree of separation isn't that much of a degree.
0
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 9:52 PM UTC
What Is Different.
I love you, but I am scared of you I am scared of what you know Of how you think and how you feel Of how you are I am scared of how you see the world I am scared of how much you know of me that I don't know of myself I am scared of your ability to hurt to maim perhaps to **** I am scared of how dangerous you can be Of how dangerous you are Of your dark tendencies And your twisted mind I am scared of what is in your head You are evil You threaten me Blackmail me Use your power over me You say 'You don't know what I am capable of' And I don't And that is what scares me most The unknown Your mind is uncharted waters I am scared to venture into deep For fear of being hurt in the crossfire Because when I am close to you I fear that you will hurt me Sometimes, when you are angry I fear you I fear for myself I fear that I am only a pawn in your wicked games You say you can do things to me Though I know you never would It scares me That you could You know too much And see too much Everywhere you go your eyes flit around You breathe in everything You take in every detail I am scared of what you take in about me Don't you see? How you terrify me? You barbarian So violent, ruthless, unpredictable Sometimes It is as if I don't know you You are a demon A devil The spawn of Satan himself But I love you I love you But I am scared of you
0
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
I Love You, But I Am Scared Of You
Her mother pushed religious ******** down her throat But she refused to listen Her mother pulled her hair and took away her hope But she had accepted long ago her mothers love had conditions Her mother always let her get caught in the crossfire of her anger But she just locked herself in her room to forget Her mother constantly called her a failure But she didn't need her mother to remind her of her regrets Her mother was fed up with her passive aggressive behavior But she knew she deserved better than this neglect Her mother always yelled at her for never talking And she let hollow silence be her reply It wasn't until her mother said "You should **** yourself." That she happily complied
0
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Defiance
Today is another day in the crusade, another scar adds to my many from the previous day, the soldiers beg I don't take the lead, though I will not listen to them, I say my usual line put your helmets on, I'm there general they will not see me die. standing tall we march through the rain. Meeting the so called enemies to the capital, I stand tall not fighting for a cause, my reason is because I was told to and that is all, I charge into battle a sword in my left, a mace in my right, no shield for me, because my body is my defense, though there she runs next to me eager to return the favor from yesterday. my mace meets the skull of one, my sword through another, death is now just a sick game I play how many can I **** 1...2...3 for every 1 I count 20 men have fallen by my hand, the enemy surrounds a small group of three, not going to watch my men die I run into the crossfire. I take each blow meant for them, a show of will my men surely take to heart, for they **** the 15 that surround them, me there commander and there sheild. a strike to my back she catches with her sword she take the mans life her eyes shine with embers. for today has ended without a single lose, I see it as a true victory, I am the general of 200 men and in the end only one lose I expect. one of a man that has nothing to lose, I share my body to be there shield. 4 stand before me with thanks on their lips, and I have to remember Soldiers don't cry...
0
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Soldiers Don't Cry
Dax- God's Eyes ~My Verse~ I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's He walks with men on earth at different levels He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah ----------------------------------------- (first yeah of the verse layered over the last yeah of the chorus, slowed and stretched out) ...-yyeeeaaahhh I've never met god, no, I've never met the devil Though I've seen 'em in the eyes of broken people Both shrouded in lies, watch the line glitch between what's good and what's evil They seem pretty equal, it's the playing field that's not level An unholy holy war, creation V creator You swear he hears prayer so it's a choice to never answer The holy-ish trinity with it's narcissist center, the first broken family ever Please do me a favor, before you expire, acknowledge the innocent lost to crossfire ----------------------------------------- ("They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's" layered over "I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's") "They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's" He walks with men on earth at different levels He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah ©2023
0
Oct 12, 2023
Oct 12, 2023 at 5:01 PM UTC
🎙️Dax- God's Eyes ~My Verse~
Dax- God's Eyes ~My Verse~ I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's He walks with men on earth at different levels He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah ----------------------------------------- (first yeah of the verse layered over the last yeah of the chorus, slowed and stretched out) ...-yyeeeaaahhh I've never met god, no, I've never met the devil Though I've seen 'em in the eyes of broken people Both shrouded in lies, watch the line glitch between what's good and what's evil They seem pretty equal, it's the playing field that's not level An unholy holy war, creation V creator You swear he hears prayer so it's a choice to never answer The holy-ish trinity with it's narcissist center, the first broken family ever Please do me a favor, before you expire, acknowledge the innocent lost to crossfire ----------------------------------------- ("They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's" layered over "I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's") "They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's" He walks with men on earth at different levels He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah ©2023
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33
When she spoke of birds and bees, She wasn't speaking about *** Enumerating about leaf and trees, Twinkle over a topic quite perplex. When she spoke of rain checks, She wasn't speaking about shopping, Instead fretting over the birds in the nests, Trees that perish by wood chopping. When she spoke of a branch, She wasn't speaking of business, She spoke of destructive avalanche, That pressure trees to diminish. When she spoke of wood, She wasn't speaking of phallus, Or a portrayal of manhood, She expounded on nature's palace. When she spoke of nature, Her passion burned hotter than a bushfire, For she witnessed creatures endangered, And the animals that suffered in our crossfire.... ....Our crossfire between money and satisfaction...
0
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
The Forest
Sometimes all it takes Is a simple act of kindness To really make someone's day Extending yourself to someone To someone in need Being that person Who steps up for those Who no one else will step up for Being that person Who wants to help because they see That there are people who need help And they know in their hearts That they have the ability to help Or a burning desire to make change Where change doesn't seem to come very easily Being that special someone In someone's life Extending yourself to others In loving and kind ways Opening up your heart For the people Who everyone else has shut out Putting yourself in the crossfire So that others can live a better life Even if it means you have to give Everything and all of yourself In the process Being willing to be there for others To cry for them To fight for them To live in someone else's shoes Sometimes all it takes Is that first act of kindness To really change people's hearts To let them see the possibilities When we all act a little kinder to each other And protect the people in this world Who need protecting the most
0
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 5:12 AM UTC
Kindness
Frightful abilities were pressured into responses as the computer children failed at hitherto reliable performance. This was a description of the synchronous effect brought into the shudder with a catch in the breath of the mother, and written by frenetic action that destroyed the logical sequence of requests presented by the mouse and the typing keys. As directed through an esoteric process of recovery, the minds of the device reoriented, again attaining the ability to perform simple and repetitive tasks as obliged by designated prompts. There was no certainty this was not related to the telephone connection which picked thinking out of the air like a television receiving a network broadcast. In the same way, the exhaust pipe rambled as the engine of the truck idled too rapidly and, then, stalled. Everything was restarted. The vehicle operated right away. The computer bumbled along flashing through scenes and blank screens, the curser pulsing like a heart beat in the upper corner. This had to be worn like a sign of concentration, meaning that the (citizen, computer) was being observed, and the sensitive response would be, literally, automatic, but sometimes the potentiometer brought, to sight, a gesture of communication. It was cute that such clever trinkets were hiding down in there until the spirit tapped the muscles of the shoulder blade. It became apparent this relation depended upon keys found in ancient aliens such as arcades and magic books. A tiny soul was stored in a pocket, in the telephone; it reached out with its vibration and launched into the world to grab news with its operating, search engines. It had eyes and could see in the dark. So, the age was over in which it could be expected that photographs were the result of special manners and the courageous offer of friendly snapshots. As torches confused ferocious animals, the excuse depended upon dark difficulties in the chemical room. In the garden, the televised betrayal generated a crossfire of live video, and, thus, fools were unlucky. Energy and conflict had been misguided. New, public devotion protected the evolution of tableware or discrete implements that chimed to be taken into other rooms. Discourse was enabled and following discursion, long, private moments carried visitors away.
0
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 6:54 PM UTC
Touching The Screen Of Awareness
Frightful abilities were pressured into responses as the computer children failed at hitherto reliable performance. This was a description of the synchronous effect brought into the shudder with a catch in the breath of the mother, and written by frenetic action that destroyed the logical sequence of requests presented by the mouse and the typing keys. As directed through an esoteric process of recovery, the minds of the device reoriented, again attaining the ability to perform simple and repetitive tasks as obliged by designated prompts. There was no certainty this was not related to the telephone connection which picked thinking out of the air like a television receiving a network broadcast. In the same way, the exhaust pipe rambled as the engine of the truck idled too rapidly and, then, stalled. Everything was restarted. The vehicle operated right away. The computer bumbled along flashing through scenes and blank screens, the curser pulsing like a heart beat in the upper corner. This had to be worn like a sign of concentration, meaning that the (citizen, computer) was being observed, and the sensitive response would be, literally, automatic, but sometimes the potentiometer brought, to sight, a gesture of communication. It was cute that such clever trinkets were hiding down in there until the spirit tapped the muscles of the shoulder blade. It became apparent this relation depended upon keys found in ancient aliens such as arcades and magic books. A tiny soul was stored in a pocket, in the telephone; it reached out with its vibration and launched into the world to grab news with its operating, search engines. It had eyes and could see in the dark. So, the age was over in which it could be expected that photographs were the result of special manners and the courageous offer of friendly snapshots. As torches confused ferocious animals, the excuse depended upon dark difficulties in the chemical room. In the garden, the televised betrayal generated a crossfire of live video, and, thus, fools were unlucky. Energy and conflict had been misguided. New, public devotion protected the evolution of tableware or discrete implements that chimed to be taken into other rooms. Discourse was enabled and following discursion, long, private moments carried visitors away.
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50
Many will prove themselves worthy if you give them a chance. Trust them and let them rise to your feelings. It can be hard not to immediately write people off. I used to trust everyone, until I realized that you can't. It took me a long time to realize you have to guard yourself. People are so fascinating - they have histories, stories, traumas, pain, traits, vices, virtues, love affairs, sleepless nights, values, hobbies, habits, failures, flaws, and memories. It is difficult for me not to want to get to know almost everyone I come across. This certain seeking quality about myself gets me into an awful lot of problematic scenarios. I often end up in the crossfire of many situations that never really involved me in the first place. I've met an awful lot of individuals, but only a handful who looked at me and saw what I don't see. This phenomena is a great source of inspiration to me. Sometimes I feel like "what you see is what you get" and there's nothing more to me than what I portray to others in order to convey the qualities I'd like them to believe. Being mysterious is a haven to me. I figure if nobody ever really knows who I am, I am safe and they can't hurt me. Yet this has proven itself untrue. Do I even know myself? Often times, the answer is no - and that's why it blows my mind when people seem to have that certain knowing look and they see all the things I bury deep, things I'm afraid to show like weaknesses and failures. These people remind me that I have potential and I'm not as bad as I think I am. People who see you - really see you for who you are - are very rare, but worth waiting for. They see past the masks, fronts, and facades you've learned to put on and they understand the things you've always wanted people to understand without you having to explain. They get it. Hold onto those people. They are the way to success and happiness and true friendship. Post-conventional thinking will always outweigh earthly expectations. **** everything that isn't fulfilling. Life is something rules shouldn't be imposed on where they don't need to be. Open your eyes.
0
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
Open Your Eyes
Many will prove themselves worthy if you give them a chance. Trust them and let them rise to your feelings. It can be hard not to immediately write people off. I used to trust everyone, until I realized that you can't. It took me a long time to realize you have to guard yourself. People are so fascinating - they have histories, stories, traumas, pain, traits, vices, virtues, love affairs, sleepless nights, values, hobbies, habits, failures, flaws, and memories. It is difficult for me not to want to get to know almost everyone I come across. This certain seeking quality about myself gets me into an awful lot of problematic scenarios. I often end up in the crossfire of many situations that never really involved me in the first place. I've met an awful lot of individuals, but only a handful who looked at me and saw what I don't see. This phenomena is a great source of inspiration to me. Sometimes I feel like "what you see is what you get" and there's nothing more to me than what I portray to others in order to convey the qualities I'd like them to believe. Being mysterious is a haven to me. I figure if nobody ever really knows who I am, I am safe and they can't hurt me. Yet this has proven itself untrue. Do I even know myself? Often times, the answer is no - and that's why it blows my mind when people seem to have that certain knowing look and they see all the things I bury deep, things I'm afraid to show like weaknesses and failures. These people remind me that I have potential and I'm not as bad as I think I am. People who see you - really see you for who you are - are very rare, but worth waiting for. They see past the masks, fronts, and facades you've learned to put on and they understand the things you've always wanted people to understand without you having to explain. They get it. Hold onto those people. They are the way to success and happiness and true friendship. Post-conventional thinking will always outweigh earthly expectations. **** everything that isn't fulfilling. Life is something rules shouldn't be imposed on where they don't need to be. Open your eyes.
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I let Cupid carelessly aim an arrow at an apple on my head. I never thought about how all of the targets he hit may have been accidents. About what it would be like to pull the arrow out of my chest. I couldn't stop the bleeding and he didn't know how to patch it. I realized then the dangers of putting your heart in the center of a crossfire hoping, hoping the child with the arrow would spare it.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
Child's Play