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"damnedest" poems
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.! You shall not sneer at me. Pick up your hat and stethoscope, Go wash your mouth with laundry soap; I contemplate a joy exquisite I'm not paying you for your visit. I did not call you to be told My malady is a common cold. By pounding brow and swollen lip; By fever's hot and scaly grip; By those two red redundant eyes That weep like woeful April skies; By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff; By handkerchief after handkerchief; This cold you wave away as naught Is the damnedest cold man ever caught! Give ear, you scientific fossil! Here is the genuine Cold Colossal; The Cold of which researchers dream, The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme. This honored system humbly holds The Super-cold to end all colds; The Cold Crusading for Democracy; The Führer of the Streptococcracy. Bacilli swarm within my portals Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals, But bred by scientists wise and hoary In some Olympic laboratory; Bacteria as large as mice, With feet of fire and heads of ice Who never interrupt for slumber Their stamping elephantine rumba. A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth! Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth; Don Juan was a budding gallant, And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent; The Arctic winter is fairly coolish, And your diagnosis is fairly foolish. Oh what a derision history holds For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!
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10.9k
Common Cold
here’s the damnedest thing about “hopeless romantics”: they’ll splinter their own bones into kindling to build the fire that warms you, as if putting a match to their insides might cauterize the wounds left behind by the greedy lovers and too-rough hands that set their hearts to bleeding in the first place you see, the poets spared no pains when they dubbed the especially romantic “the hopeless” they are hopelessly betrothed to the warfare, the burning insanity of a soul madly in love with love— the way the heart rages against the brain.
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Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 11:43 PM UTC
epitaph of the hopeless romantic
She’s a masterpiece, a work of art A woman with a golden heart Sewn together with tenderness and love An angel sent from up-above She’s a mother, a sister, a daughter too She’s a best friend who'll always be there for you Even when tears roll down her face She manages to smile and assure you it'll all be okay She tries her damnedest to make everything right She’ll protect you, she will, for you she will fight She carries her burdens with such ease It’s only when you look into her eyes that you will see them beneath She wears her heart on her sleeve every day of her life She’s a phenomenal woman, you'd better look twice She’s a mother, a sister, a daughter too Be glad that she is the perfect woman, yes it is true Take heed of her love, her caring side For if you do not, you might lose sight She’s a phenomenal woman, that’s what she is She is inside all of us; she’s the woman in me…….
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Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
The Woman in me
Self-inflicted distractions, ingesting every possible stimulation the world can afford me, lost in peopleplacesandthings abusing myself with every tangible substance, redirecting my mind away from addiction, but try my damnedest and still there you are in the lyrics of a new song, so I start to read and there you are in the character in my book, turning on the TV and there you are in the storyline, stumbling into another man's bed and he becomes you when my eyes are closed; everywhere I run my addiction finds me, and sometimes I fear I will never escape you; you are there in all the places I go in all the people I meet in all the things I see; I see you I feel you I taste you I smell you I hear you; you are my five senses, you have infiltrated my bodyheartandmind; even without you, you still control me, you still catch me slipping, my mind wandering to you in my dreams, subconscious still stained with your imperfect, incomplete, undeserving imprint; in my attempts to forget you your memory refuses to let me g o. I guess once an addict, always.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Rehab
My palms sweat when I think of writing you a poem Writing has been the only way I could communicate with others you see, when it comes to my emotions my mouth might as well be duct-taped and in fact the only way I can write this now is because I can tell myself you'll never see it I'm confused. Circumstances half under my control has resulted in making me the co-creator of my own kryptonite see, what happened was partially my fault and I can't escape the guilt that I made trying to escape it in the first place see sometimes trying your hardest not to lead someone on leads them on anyway and I don't want to do that to you I don't want to do that to anyone See this poem doesn't even rhyme. Not a lot of mine do, though, And see listening to Drake tends to make me honest and listening to Nicki Minaj makes me brave and the combination of that with Angel Haze is a cocktail that might just get me drunk enough to lay my head on your shoulder again I think I'm falling in love with you But you should know my personality means that I'm doing it kicking and screaming searching my damnedest for an escape route because being vulnerable hurts me every time even the ones that promised they wouldn't and I do it to myself, but I trust you And honestly that scares me more than it should I'm not afraid of ******** it up if that were all it was you'd find me on your doorstep with my heart in my palms and blood dripping on the concrete but the thought of how happy you would make me of how temporary everything is despite our best efforts the chance that I could lose everything in a single swoop is more terrifying than wandering alone through dark paths more terrifying than a deep voice from the empty space beside my ear more terrifying than a letting down my guard little by little just to get stabbed in the back
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
It's Not You, It's Me
My palms sweat when I think of writing you a poem Writing has been the only way I could communicate with others you see, when it comes to my emotions my mouth might as well be duct-taped and in fact the only way I can write this now is because I can tell myself you'll never see it I'm confused. Circumstances half under my control has resulted in making me the co-creator of my own kryptonite see, what happened was partially my fault and I can't escape the guilt that I made trying to escape it in the first place see sometimes trying your hardest not to lead someone on leads them on anyway and I don't want to do that to you I don't want to do that to anyone See this poem doesn't even rhyme. Not a lot of mine do, though, And see listening to Drake tends to make me honest and listening to Nicki Minaj makes me brave and the combination of that with Angel Haze is a cocktail that might just get me drunk enough to lay my head on your shoulder again I think I'm falling in love with you But you should know my personality means that I'm doing it kicking and screaming searching my damnedest for an escape route because being vulnerable hurts me every time even the ones that promised they wouldn't and I do it to myself, but I trust you And honestly that scares me more than it should I'm not afraid of ******** it up if that were all it was you'd find me on your doorstep with my heart in my palms and blood dripping on the concrete but the thought of how happy you would make me of how temporary everything is despite our best efforts the chance that I could lose everything in a single swoop is more terrifying than wandering alone through dark paths more terrifying than a deep voice from the empty space beside my ear more terrifying than a letting down my guard little by little just to get stabbed in the back
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44
save me from myself human wreckage sinking with ankles made of anchors self conscious self abuse the scars on my heart i wear them on my sleeve unlovable i've gone to deep and no one wants a piece of me drive me to distraction while i tear apart my soul searching for answers to this god complex i play with life and love as a third person observer and spend another night alone writing "her" name with blood on my arm i'm ok i promise don't spare a second glance i'm not worth your time tragedy refined i'm almost cliché bury me in apathy while i miss the lips of emotionalism soft just save me from myself cause i'm trying my damnedest to send myself to hell
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Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
grey day
I will do my damnedest to save you from harm and wrap you safely up in lust you who're only a luckless victim a poor forsaken damsel in distress tied to the railway tracks by a villain in one of those black and white movies I will arrive in the dramatic nick of time and I shall be the hero who proves his love when in return you kick me under the train I'm really just vain and an incapable slave so you relent and pull me back from the brink I'll waste no time in rescuing you your destiny's under my control there's nothing you can do no reason for you to get involved except in relinquishing your body yet what you do is to shelve all my plans for today I'm relieved you know yourself I'll be there to deliver you from evil the forces of love are far too weak you have too much of it to lose to quibble my advice is to stay put and not to seek instead you jump into the moral saddle urging it on so strong my heart goes meek I repent and promise not to meddle I'll take you in my arms and we'll escape giving you a way out when all seems lost picking up the pieces of your broken reality what you need is for me to know what's best to change you into a looker for me I'm only glad you passed the test with that sand I got kicked into my face something you call leather and lace... nice work... I secretly have to confess You'll need me to give you a hand when your slight frame gets knocked down my assistance in perspective is what you need the weights of love too great to be borne I'd hate for yours to fatten and go to seed and your strong love will feel no pain when you yank me limb from limb to the ground and ****** my salvation insanely thin Rest assured I'll rid you of your past that awful story of unspeakable depravity it's easy for someone clean to dust all traces erased of that shocking poverty and I'll dress you anew as a lady to impress forging history in return for a few liberties but you tore my shoddy papers into a mess a message that I needed you to fix me what wasn't broken was you - I was even more impressive love it's true for you to sort out my lax assumptive ways
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Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
When Pretty's Made Up All In A Row
I will do my damnedest to save you from harm and wrap you safely up in lust you who're only a luckless victim a poor forsaken damsel in distress tied to the railway tracks by a villain in one of those black and white movies I will arrive in the dramatic nick of time and I shall be the hero who proves his love when in return you kick me under the train I'm really just vain and an incapable slave so you relent and pull me back from the brink I'll waste no time in rescuing you your destiny's under my control there's nothing you can do no reason for you to get involved except in relinquishing your body yet what you do is to shelve all my plans for today I'm relieved you know yourself I'll be there to deliver you from evil the forces of love are far too weak you have too much of it to lose to quibble my advice is to stay put and not to seek instead you jump into the moral saddle urging it on so strong my heart goes meek I repent and promise not to meddle I'll take you in my arms and we'll escape giving you a way out when all seems lost picking up the pieces of your broken reality what you need is for me to know what's best to change you into a looker for me I'm only glad you passed the test with that sand I got kicked into my face something you call leather and lace... nice work... I secretly have to confess You'll need me to give you a hand when your slight frame gets knocked down my assistance in perspective is what you need the weights of love too great to be borne I'd hate for yours to fatten and go to seed and your strong love will feel no pain when you yank me limb from limb to the ground and ****** my salvation insanely thin Rest assured I'll rid you of your past that awful story of unspeakable depravity it's easy for someone clean to dust all traces erased of that shocking poverty and I'll dress you anew as a lady to impress forging history in return for a few liberties but you tore my shoddy papers into a mess a message that I needed you to fix me what wasn't broken was you - I was even more impressive love it's true for you to sort out my lax assumptive ways
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54
Sometimes People Are ***** And I find myself Disappointed With the entire species Other times, They do the damnedest things, Restoring my Faith Just in the nic of time
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Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 10:00 PM UTC
Humanity
I wake up from dreams With goose bumps where your hands used to go My dreams remind me what you looked like My body reminds me what you felt like My empty bed reminds me what you feel like Your phone number reminds me you're not just a phone call away anymore And my friends try their damnedest to remind me 'This too shall pass' This too shall pass But my heart is just starting to break The dog days are not done The pain is just beginning And my heart will have to break up all the way Before I can start to fix it again I don't have much super glue This will be quite the patchwork job I get goose bumps on my finger tips I get goose bumps on my chest I get goose bumps on my thighs I get goose bumps on my arms And all I can hope is that every now and then you wake up with goose bumps too This too shall pass I don't want this to pass I just want to be in the past I'm living in, in my dreams Where you still sing to me the lullabies I sing to my son to help me sleep And you wake me with gentle kisses to the forhead And rubbing my hands with your fingers My bed used to be such a perfect fit for me and you lying in this huddled cold mess of sheets I can hardly find it in myself to take up more space then my pillows You always took up more space then I did And since you replaced yourself with the pillows Nostalgia won't let me stretch my legs I want to stretch my legs I want to run away from this But I can't run from pain Can't run from goose bumps I can't run from dreams I will eventually have to close my eyes And when I do I will see yours open Looking into mine Saying I love you Like you mean it Like you always did But didn't always mean it Or at least you don't still mean it I'm too young to be burdened forever by something I didn't choose Like not having you in my life You owe me too much still Like a song on the piano Like salsa lessons Like a night out Lilke teaching me how to fish and ride 4 wheelers Like midnight phone calls Like more good mornings And less goodbyes Like tomorrow Like forever
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Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
Goosebumps
I wake up from dreams With goose bumps where your hands used to go My dreams remind me what you looked like My body reminds me what you felt like My empty bed reminds me what you feel like Your phone number reminds me you're not just a phone call away anymore And my friends try their damnedest to remind me 'This too shall pass' This too shall pass But my heart is just starting to break The dog days are not done The pain is just beginning And my heart will have to break up all the way Before I can start to fix it again I don't have much super glue This will be quite the patchwork job I get goose bumps on my finger tips I get goose bumps on my chest I get goose bumps on my thighs I get goose bumps on my arms And all I can hope is that every now and then you wake up with goose bumps too This too shall pass I don't want this to pass I just want to be in the past I'm living in, in my dreams Where you still sing to me the lullabies I sing to my son to help me sleep And you wake me with gentle kisses to the forhead And rubbing my hands with your fingers My bed used to be such a perfect fit for me and you lying in this huddled cold mess of sheets I can hardly find it in myself to take up more space then my pillows You always took up more space then I did And since you replaced yourself with the pillows Nostalgia won't let me stretch my legs I want to stretch my legs I want to run away from this But I can't run from pain Can't run from goose bumps I can't run from dreams I will eventually have to close my eyes And when I do I will see yours open Looking into mine Saying I love you Like you mean it Like you always did But didn't always mean it Or at least you don't still mean it I'm too young to be burdened forever by something I didn't choose Like not having you in my life You owe me too much still Like a song on the piano Like salsa lessons Like a night out Lilke teaching me how to fish and ride 4 wheelers Like midnight phone calls Like more good mornings And less goodbyes Like tomorrow Like forever
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57
Do I still love you? With every harsh rejection, every brutal truth you offered, every single time that you kept yourself stingily from me, I forgave you in a single breath. No one understood how I could endure, least of all you. You tried your damnedest to keep that wall up. But I refuse to be labeled as "just another one" locked away and hidden in some secret file. You're going to remember me as the girl who loved you the most. Even in your despicable moments, I never gave up. I never walked away. Through your disappearing acts, your hurtful words, your avoidance of serious topics, your ****** fantasies. I kept my rare, fondest memories of your softer self. I just kept smiling through the trials knowing that this was the dark side you let guard you. And that if I dug deep enough, I'd find your warm smile and carefree laughter to set them free again. I do not cringe upon hearing or reading your name. Instead, I whisper softly, tenderly, "I love you, Barrett." I do not avoid places where we might converge. Instead, I look for you in crowded spaces for the chance to see your face. I do not curse you and wish you karmic revenge. Instead, I wish for you nothing less than love and inner peace. Do I still love you? The answer is always the same. I love you for reasons you could not possibly conceive.
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Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
A Letter To My Lover
"With the awareness comes periods of days, sometimes weeks, when I have to avoid looking into a mirror. My self hate is so deep, so palpable, I fear I'll lunge at my own image, shatter the glass and cut myself with shards of broken reflection."      ~Jax Teller (Sons Of Anarchy) The mirror reflects images Of past things I'd like to forget Memories project ghosts that faded Long ago after I built up my regrets And that reflection shines through All the different scenarios Of this life that I've lived through And heartbreaks, everywhere I go Heartbreak, heathens, hounds and Hell What wonderful whispers the mirror has to tell I've heard them before - **** - they came from my core Love was the loathing that turned into lore **** the person in the mirror The truth could not be clearer: A monster spawned once the medicine cabinet filled with liquor You hate me? Join the ******* club I'm the ******* dartboard at the local pub Then comes the crashing, the breaking, the cuts and bruises Spectrums of pieces and shatters of truths And yet it all just reflects right back to mistakes from our youth The mirror, just an ugly reminder of shame with all the proof But what can we do? How can we forget? The images of the past can't change how they reflect From another angle we could possibly alter the effect But no altercations can take away the pain and regret I take a walk to distance me from myself, but there is no harbor for demons hiding from Hell I tried my damnedest to become better, but despite how earnest, I only grew bitter Now, being sober just gives me the jitters I can't be alone with the Devil inside I can't change things when the problem is I People see me and they are befuddled I see only a shell when I pass by these puddles Empty, that's all that's left of me Nothing, there's nothing left to see The mirror is blank, a black hole Drained into space, the remnants of my soul Blank reflections shattered against my heart Feeling of hate and self doubt ripping me apart The eyes staring back at me have no emotions Wide gazes and high tides like endless oceans This nothingness is completely consuming me My life, love and happiness have been swept out to sea
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Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Mirror ~~~ Collaboration with Frank Ruland
"With the awareness comes periods of days, sometimes weeks, when I have to avoid looking into a mirror. My self hate is so deep, so palpable, I fear I'll lunge at my own image, shatter the glass and cut myself with shards of broken reflection."      ~Jax Teller (Sons Of Anarchy) The mirror reflects images Of past things I'd like to forget Memories project ghosts that faded Long ago after I built up my regrets And that reflection shines through All the different scenarios Of this life that I've lived through And heartbreaks, everywhere I go Heartbreak, heathens, hounds and Hell What wonderful whispers the mirror has to tell I've heard them before - **** - they came from my core Love was the loathing that turned into lore **** the person in the mirror The truth could not be clearer: A monster spawned once the medicine cabinet filled with liquor You hate me? Join the ******* club I'm the ******* dartboard at the local pub Then comes the crashing, the breaking, the cuts and bruises Spectrums of pieces and shatters of truths And yet it all just reflects right back to mistakes from our youth The mirror, just an ugly reminder of shame with all the proof But what can we do? How can we forget? The images of the past can't change how they reflect From another angle we could possibly alter the effect But no altercations can take away the pain and regret I take a walk to distance me from myself, but there is no harbor for demons hiding from Hell I tried my damnedest to become better, but despite how earnest, I only grew bitter Now, being sober just gives me the jitters I can't be alone with the Devil inside I can't change things when the problem is I People see me and they are befuddled I see only a shell when I pass by these puddles Empty, that's all that's left of me Nothing, there's nothing left to see The mirror is blank, a black hole Drained into space, the remnants of my soul Blank reflections shattered against my heart Feeling of hate and self doubt ripping me apart The eyes staring back at me have no emotions Wide gazes and high tides like endless oceans This nothingness is completely consuming me My life, love and happiness have been swept out to sea
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46
Sometimes while sitting next to you I feel as if we are actually galaxies away from one another and I'll try my damnedest to gather up all the stars in the vicinity and spell you out a message among the constellations. But for some reason you can't read my signs. Maybe we're not speaking the same language, or I simply haven't gathered enough stars to adequately display what I'm attempting to say. Whatever the cause, our miscommunication turns the inches between our bodies into unconquerable territory that spans light years.
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Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
Star Signs
Does the score even matter when it's no longer about a win Past, present and future always battlin' While I try my damnedest to locate a viable position Cause really I just want to keep playin' or at least keep that an option And for the long run ©2024
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Feb 7, 2024
Feb 7, 2024 at 3:25 PM UTC
~•§•~ Must Keep it an Option ~•§•~
An imperfect gentleman's gentleness isn't always so gentle. Women walk around with an ideal idealist mental of a man. A man that's ****** but **** good at building a dam over the damnedest dirt road. Some day those roads fall apart and the dammed will depart with no heart until a renaissance period breaks through with art. So the man paints a picture of the women's heart severed in pieces ripped up like a jigsaw puzzle. He will spend his life stuck in this painting with the patience to put it back together forever with no avail he failed. She's moved on and he's back to being a gentleman pledged by an hour glass. -angel torruella
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
Gentlemen
brutal battles fail to cease from north to south and west to east within her head from heart to feet it's she against an entire world that's quite a job for such a girl she tries her damnedest to say the least so she lies awake and fears defeat
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Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
inner wars
Shortly after the school systems began defecating on the dreams of my generation, We found different outlets Through which we could bring our loathing to a head. My generation now writes poetry and Finds solace in video games we can beat In lives we can't seem to live the right way. It's funny to me that The Legend of Zelda, When completed, Tells you that "You are great!" While your teacher berates you for being sub-par Though you tried your damnedest To please them through drafts and drafts And drafts of work Spat out at 4am because There are more important things to deal with In regular waking hours, In regular waking life. They tell us that we have failed Because we ****** up in one class, A single credit, A single number on a sheet of paper That tries to measure us When we can't even attempt to do the same. They tell us we have failed Because we do not look good on file And apparently we do not look good Walking down the street With ****** eyes and baggy sweaters, The only clean clothes we own Because the system has ****** us clean of time To do much else than Study, study, STUDY our **** lives away. This is atrocious. When a young boy feels more accomplished Beating Pokemon Than he does when he writes a stellar paper, The best he can pen Only to be told he has a lot more work to do And that the paper "Is good... But it needs work." The culture of my generation does not discriminate. It does not tell us that we have more work to do. Instead, it tells us that "we are great" and It gives us a restart screen when we **** up beyond repair. It does not tell us we have failed, Instead offers us a kind "Try again?" It is sad When the voice over of a video game Offers more kindness Than our instructors and parents Combined. School should not send us home, wanting to **** ourselves. The system should not make a pen cap, A pair of underpants, a simple metal bookmark A weapon In the hands of the human entity of depression. We will not be marked suicide risks. As long as we keep getting our restart screens and Compliments from bits, We will triumph. We will be the heroes of our generation As long as we keep getting the chance. One day, when all the suffering is over And we have escaped this war-torn soul of "The Caring Community," Maybe those words will extend from an NES and find their way Into the mouth of a boyfriend, girlfriend, Wife, husband, friend, professor... Someday, we will hear the words and we will truly believe them. "You are great!" Maybe not today... But someday. Soon.
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 10:16 AM UTC
You are Great
Shortly after the school systems began defecating on the dreams of my generation, We found different outlets Through which we could bring our loathing to a head. My generation now writes poetry and Finds solace in video games we can beat In lives we can't seem to live the right way. It's funny to me that The Legend of Zelda, When completed, Tells you that "You are great!" While your teacher berates you for being sub-par Though you tried your damnedest To please them through drafts and drafts And drafts of work Spat out at 4am because There are more important things to deal with In regular waking hours, In regular waking life. They tell us that we have failed Because we ****** up in one class, A single credit, A single number on a sheet of paper That tries to measure us When we can't even attempt to do the same. They tell us we have failed Because we do not look good on file And apparently we do not look good Walking down the street With ****** eyes and baggy sweaters, The only clean clothes we own Because the system has ****** us clean of time To do much else than Study, study, STUDY our **** lives away. This is atrocious. When a young boy feels more accomplished Beating Pokemon Than he does when he writes a stellar paper, The best he can pen Only to be told he has a lot more work to do And that the paper "Is good... But it needs work." The culture of my generation does not discriminate. It does not tell us that we have more work to do. Instead, it tells us that "we are great" and It gives us a restart screen when we **** up beyond repair. It does not tell us we have failed, Instead offers us a kind "Try again?" It is sad When the voice over of a video game Offers more kindness Than our instructors and parents Combined. School should not send us home, wanting to **** ourselves. The system should not make a pen cap, A pair of underpants, a simple metal bookmark A weapon In the hands of the human entity of depression. We will not be marked suicide risks. As long as we keep getting our restart screens and Compliments from bits, We will triumph. We will be the heroes of our generation As long as we keep getting the chance. One day, when all the suffering is over And we have escaped this war-torn soul of "The Caring Community," Maybe those words will extend from an NES and find their way Into the mouth of a boyfriend, girlfriend, Wife, husband, friend, professor... Someday, we will hear the words and we will truly believe them. "You are great!" Maybe not today... But someday. Soon.
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74
Leaf spines do their damnedest to hold onto broken branches. "These people -- if you could call them that," the old man's shoulders pinch his bubbling neck, ******* ******* -- these opinionated women; my god, I have never seen the like, no sir." Mother, why have you left me. I can smell you on the freshly salted roads. It is so cold here. The snow may never stop. The wind has been picking up. I'm afraid it may blow me away, somewhere your direction. "You see, the thing is, this country -- no, this world -- has changed so **** much. It's struck me, fearsome, of what may stay; what may come," he runs his thick fingers through a rather handsome silver patch, "I wonder if what I mean to say is that people scare me? I don't know what that says about me or about people." Father, you sit and you drink, dying in your work boots; dying in the arms of my dream; becoming a man slowly razed. Your eyes are pale hazel and they grow apart, as your tongue pushes out, gone for a few hours; soon missing. "Mmm. No sir, I suppose this world ain't for me. Virginia is hardly the place I once knew... You know, my wife, she found the good in everything -- swear. Found the good in me. I envied her, in that one way; she'd see the good in the ******* ******* and these women who just, well, don't know their place. She'd know. But she ain't here. Hell, I'm hardly here, tell'ya." And all my anger I harbor for you, my mother, I give to the women I sleep with; the women that break my heart; the women who love me forever. And all my anger I harbor for you, my father, I try to forget, for you are my idea of God's love, and I desperately scratch at your surface, excusing your roughness injuring my fingers; forgiving you for covering me in your blood and everything else you.
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Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
18. Object; Degenerates
Leaf spines do their damnedest to hold onto broken branches. "These people -- if you could call them that," the old man's shoulders pinch his bubbling neck, ******* ******* -- these opinionated women; my god, I have never seen the like, no sir." Mother, why have you left me. I can smell you on the freshly salted roads. It is so cold here. The snow may never stop. The wind has been picking up. I'm afraid it may blow me away, somewhere your direction. "You see, the thing is, this country -- no, this world -- has changed so **** much. It's struck me, fearsome, of what may stay; what may come," he runs his thick fingers through a rather handsome silver patch, "I wonder if what I mean to say is that people scare me? I don't know what that says about me or about people." Father, you sit and you drink, dying in your work boots; dying in the arms of my dream; becoming a man slowly razed. Your eyes are pale hazel and they grow apart, as your tongue pushes out, gone for a few hours; soon missing. "Mmm. No sir, I suppose this world ain't for me. Virginia is hardly the place I once knew... You know, my wife, she found the good in everything -- swear. Found the good in me. I envied her, in that one way; she'd see the good in the ******* ******* and these women who just, well, don't know their place. She'd know. But she ain't here. Hell, I'm hardly here, tell'ya." And all my anger I harbor for you, my mother, I give to the women I sleep with; the women that break my heart; the women who love me forever. And all my anger I harbor for you, my father, I try to forget, for you are my idea of God's love, and I desperately scratch at your surface, excusing your roughness injuring my fingers; forgiving you for covering me in your blood and everything else you.
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60
Looking out is looking in. It's the damnedest setup ever.
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Setup (10w)
I drove the rental car through a tree as we continued on towards the ranch. Saddled up hand measured horses and rode through the park. Monster trees would have shadowed skyscrapers. The bravest of birds nested only halfway, for even feathered wings stall at that altitude. The damnedest thing was the pine-cones, golf ball-sized spheres falling from giants. It's a bumpy ride on a leather saddle, a bit painful, too. You smirked and said you needed a drink, hell, so did I. Later in Eureka California we walked to Ray's Saddle, an old western bar with a wooden red patio, fake cowboy mannequins gracing the entrance pistols drawn, not ready to fire. Our dry mouths megan to irrigate, our sore bottoms limped through the door, and the damnedest thing; the bar stools were rawhide saddles.
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:22 PM UTC
Red Coast
Welcome to mount hopeless Where rocks tumble, crumble at your feet Where ropes to carry you turn to ***** nooses Leaving you with nothing but bruises. Uncertainty holds you captive, With fallen angels you'd never hope to meet. Hard falls to the solid ground, The hounds of hell compell you. Create your monster from little white lies Till it gleams with your webs of ******** Lost, but never found Your kind was born to lose. Fuel your future with worn, tired sighs Try your damnedest to forget it. The skies are grey with fog Blurred between the lines Separating reality from your dreams And the temperature drops Along with your binds And all that remains are the seams Of a life once promised, Of lungs that could feel The summer breeze from Beneath the trees, the fallen leaves All the truth we compromised.
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Untitled
cousin, it is judgment day. the day of my reckoning and   it is   y  e  a  r  s in the making. one is l o s t. cousins are strangers      and friends since childhood sharing    family   secrets              jokes   joys   sorrows all eleven are at a distance    not  my          best friends    but my family you, cousin i chose    to keep even farther away and for this i am | ashamed | i quietly watched as a child a teenager a woman your father a man made of    an unbounded source of love strength character          creativity cousin, if your father    makes me love him so     just by being who he is          i cannot imagine the love you had           for him as your very own father. cousin, if your father makes me laugh              at his jokes and makes every child love him instantly i cannot imagine        how you looked  up to him as his son. cousin, if your father makes me believe     there are still good   men and fathers and uncles i cannot imagine      the pride you felt    when you looked upon his face. your mother a woman absolutely    driven by positive energy        love and determination cousin, if your mother    blows me away with her love for you i cannot imagine how you felt in         the love she     surrounded you in every single moment of your life. cousin, if your mother    makes other people's lives better        i cannot imagine              how you felt as you watched her     lovingly do her damnedest      to give you your independence. cousin, if i watch your parents together and feel love       radiating from them feel determination through thick and thin… i cannot imagine       how you felt   looking upon them together when they didn't know you were watching *knowing all that they did was for you.* your sister a friend    a caretaker   an instigator      an indefinable part of you cousin, i watched you and your sister    act like any other siblings i babysat you   when you were young     but i did not see    your time alone together     i did not hear                  your conversations as      you learned and grew          *but i can imagine that       life would have been unbearable without your sister* i can imagine      that having her support meant everything to you because i have siblings i can imagine these things     and i would cling to my brother and sisters **your love for your sister must have been like    a cup overflowing.** and as i watched i held back   i could have given more i could have been your     friend   i could have made       your too short life   easier       better   somehow….i could have       done something and i didn't. i watched your family    in their grace i watched you in your courage    and i folded. i didn't want to know you      any more than i had to    because i didn't want to have   to lose you          like i knew i would     i selfishly had a choice unlike you. unlike your beautiful family. and for this i curse myself. i feel this reckoning and i confess it and i carry it but i just couldn't do it, Ben.
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Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
my one regret
cousin, it is judgment day. the day of my reckoning and   it is   y  e  a  r  s in the making. one is l o s t. cousins are strangers      and friends since childhood sharing    family   secrets              jokes   joys   sorrows all eleven are at a distance    not  my          best friends    but my family you, cousin i chose    to keep even farther away and for this i am | ashamed | i quietly watched as a child a teenager a woman your father a man made of    an unbounded source of love strength character          creativity cousin, if your father    makes me love him so     just by being who he is          i cannot imagine the love you had           for him as your very own father. cousin, if your father makes me laugh              at his jokes and makes every child love him instantly i cannot imagine        how you looked  up to him as his son. cousin, if your father makes me believe     there are still good   men and fathers and uncles i cannot imagine      the pride you felt    when you looked upon his face. your mother a woman absolutely    driven by positive energy        love and determination cousin, if your mother    blows me away with her love for you i cannot imagine how you felt in         the love she     surrounded you in every single moment of your life. cousin, if your mother    makes other people's lives better        i cannot imagine              how you felt as you watched her     lovingly do her damnedest      to give you your independence. cousin, if i watch your parents together and feel love       radiating from them feel determination through thick and thin… i cannot imagine       how you felt   looking upon them together when they didn't know you were watching *knowing all that they did was for you.* your sister a friend    a caretaker   an instigator      an indefinable part of you cousin, i watched you and your sister    act like any other siblings i babysat you   when you were young     but i did not see    your time alone together     i did not hear                  your conversations as      you learned and grew          *but i can imagine that       life would have been unbearable without your sister* i can imagine      that having her support meant everything to you because i have siblings i can imagine these things     and i would cling to my brother and sisters **your love for your sister must have been like    a cup overflowing.** and as i watched i held back   i could have given more i could have been your     friend   i could have made       your too short life   easier       better   somehow….i could have       done something and i didn't. i watched your family    in their grace i watched you in your courage    and i folded. i didn't want to know you      any more than i had to    because i didn't want to have   to lose you          like i knew i would     i selfishly had a choice unlike you. unlike your beautiful family. and for this i curse myself. i feel this reckoning and i confess it and i carry it but i just couldn't do it, Ben.
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It's the scent of bud light and cheap cologne that brings me back to that night The night you told me I was beautiful The night you told me to stay And so I did I stayed Because I was intoxicated Partly from the alcohol and also from the feeling of your body against mine The way you held me strong in your arms And pulled me to your chest And smiled And laughed And stared Until you couldn't bare it anymore and neither could I You grazed your hand lightly against my leg and you told me You told me you weren't afraid of my scars You told me you weren't afraid of my past You weren't afraid of my darkness But you were afraid of clowns And I laughed and I beamed And I was glad you didn't see the tears that fought so hard to escape I swallowed back my lump And kissed your perfect lips I wished I wasn't broken I wished I could be everything you needed But I'm not And I might not ever be I can't see past the fog But i'm trying my damnedest My scars overcome me But so do you It's a battle in my heart And it rips at my chest But I look into your eyes And I see a future full of hope, and light, and happiness And maybe one day I won't be so Broken.
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Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
That Night
I've been shown through heartbreak- What love is... I've been told that love was something that took care of me, physically, while tearing me apart, emotionally. My whole life I've been cast aside- A mother that didn't raise me, A father who tried his damnedest- I've been reminded by full force pushes to the face, holidays alone without my family, Siblings who choose drugs over relationships, But even still, I learned what love was. Love isn't a fairy tale, or a "perfect" family, Love isn't every holiday with those you wish to spend it with... Love is the strength you have to keep going, Love Is the one word that someone speaks to encourage you Love Supports all your dreams even if they don't happen Love Is indeed patient and of course it's kind- But love is putting yourself first when you wanna put the whole world before you- Love is thankfulness, Love is forgiving with a reason to understand, Over and over again... Love is a four letter word that contains thirteen letters... UNCONDITIONAL. Sometimes, It's a phrase that gets used too often: It's a feeling that gets shoved in your face when you do something wrong- But these, Are the wrong ways to use love. Love should be used every morning on your way out the door, Love should be reflected when you look in the mirror- Love is the reminder that dark days will come- But the days past that are even brighter. Love, is unconditional.
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Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
unconditional.
I wonder if you knew, just how much it really hurts, to try and try and fail, never getting better always worse, to give and give and give, till there's nothing left, to be broken down bit by bit, by the one you loved the best. Would you still use and abuse, and do your damnedest to put me down, would you pretend not to feel, never making a sound. If the tables were turned, and my shoes were on your feet, would you maintain this game, a smile, like it's a treat? Would you stand, unwavering, in love, or would you duck and run, would you wait for me, like a fool, after I used you, just for fun?
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Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC
you wouldn't do it for me