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"decadency" poems
You cannot oppose decadency then tell me nothing is sacred You cannot tell me I'm too sensitive then barrage me with hatred You cannot preach guidance if your moral compass is latent And act so cavalier while advocating patience You cannot tell me you love Jesus and throw his teachings in a forge Recast them in the flames to a weapon for your scourge You cannot read me scripture and cast the exile aside For the blessed are the weak but not the weak of mind
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
#47
Aging a progressive and earthy condition Beginning at the top of our life Genesis of a lonely crusade Aging...bone degeneration Tired eyes Lack of elasticity and tone Drying Wrinkles Dark spots Aging… origin of a journal Ending with a final destination Devolution of human existence Declined memory Decadency of cognitive knowledge Agony of Aphrodite Collapse of Eros Unmoistened Venus Aging as evident as irreversible Irremediable condition Impossible battle
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
Aging
Reassigning bits of me to true consciousness- A dream within a dream A twisting landscape Of implicated creations that morph With the induction of elation and The interpretation of intrepid behavior. I see skin sparking, Natural electricity, lightning Blue cable veins bleed There is no oxygen here No need to seal the wound No space to dissipate into. The ceiling pushes up from under us The floor spins in cultivated madness The sky swallows me whole And i sink into the sea, Swollen with seductive intention Clinging to fragments of reality- They have no home in this realm. At the helm of curiosity Drifting through vagrancy away from complacency. spindling through fever dreams- placid plastic landscapes. I know not what I create, Yet again and again I meet my fate within the metamorphosis of melting clay and The soft whir of the interstate that stirs beneath me. I know the soft rustling of a rusting heart within me Shifts the focus from fantasy But nomadic irrelevance has always been a decadency Lest I leave too soon and forget its places within me. C.e.M. 8-9-16
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
transcendental task
another attempt at this this soliloquy oh, hello I haven't realized you were there my feelings are everywhere I ponder of decadency curses, blank verses my idiocy worthless wander for that drop of sanity restrictions soon born from nonsense jurisdiction thoughtless truths aspired from fiction try desperately to wade through diction to carry my weight to wade through all this hate crates beaten blind too straight a compass to identity I need to find my way I cannot possibly begin to say how astray we are from amenity my journey in adolescence I feel like once before a child of eight I dreamt of terrible marvelous skates weaving simplicity complexity in outer space rocket ships realities traced now to spines of crates drowning to the lid, lost salty straits yet what is once will never begin again look at me now, eight I live to see light of day and end with kissing white ***** of those medallion ivory gates filthy green dollars as they clip my windpipes to hush our voices gone hoarse in constant delay smothered so we stray breathless, worthless in constant replay a desolate lampshade shattered shards of what remained of eight year old dreams a second chance too late a second path too vain my liberty to express those wooden crates, open passionately constantly drift astray in those seas of dismay have no fear for me the stars will now guide me the way it's going to be okay, my precious eight
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
Wooden Crates of Eight