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"decreasing" poems
1 It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days That summer and man delight in. Never had Heaven seemed quite so high, Never had earth seemed quite so green, Never had the world seemed quite so clean Or sky so nigh. And I heard the Deity’s voice in The sun’s warm rays, And the white cloud’s intricate maze, And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen. 2 I looked to the heavens and saw him there,— A black speck downward drifting, Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed, Nearer and nearer he slid through space, In an unending aerial race, This sailor who hailed From the Clime of the Clouds.—Ever shifting, On billows of air And the blue sky seemed never so fair, And the rest of the world kept pace. 3 On the white of his head the sun flashed bright; And he battled the wind with wide pinions, Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud, Clearer and clearer he came into view,— Bigger and blacker against the blue. Then a dragon of cloud Gathering all its minions Rushed to the fight, And swallowed him up in a bite; And the sky lay empty clear through. 4 Long I watched. And at last afar Caught sight of a speck in the vastness; Ever smaller,ever decreasing, Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day; Finally ceasing. So into Heaven’s vast fastness Vanished that bar Of black,as a fluttering star Goes out while still on its way. 5 So I lost him. But I shall always see In my mind The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free; The vista’s sky,and the white cloud trailing, Trailing behind,— And below the young earth’s summer-green arbors, And on high the eagle,—sailing,sailing Into far skies and unknown harbors
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40.4k
The Eagle
1 It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days That summer and man delight in. Never had Heaven seemed quite so high, Never had earth seemed quite so green, Never had the world seemed quite so clean Or sky so nigh. And I heard the Deity’s voice in The sun’s warm rays, And the white cloud’s intricate maze, And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen. 2 I looked to the heavens and saw him there,— A black speck downward drifting, Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed, Nearer and nearer he slid through space, In an unending aerial race, This sailor who hailed From the Clime of the Clouds.—Ever shifting, On billows of air And the blue sky seemed never so fair, And the rest of the world kept pace. 3 On the white of his head the sun flashed bright; And he battled the wind with wide pinions, Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud, Clearer and clearer he came into view,— Bigger and blacker against the blue. Then a dragon of cloud Gathering all its minions Rushed to the fight, And swallowed him up in a bite; And the sky lay empty clear through. 4 Long I watched. And at last afar Caught sight of a speck in the vastness; Ever smaller,ever decreasing, Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day; Finally ceasing. So into Heaven’s vast fastness Vanished that bar Of black,as a fluttering star Goes out while still on its way. 5 So I lost him. But I shall always see In my mind The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free; The vista’s sky,and the white cloud trailing, Trailing behind,— And below the young earth’s summer-green arbors, And on high the eagle,—sailing,sailing Into far skies and unknown harbors
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52
The pigeons are sad The pigeons saw that The future comes with bad The pigeons were telling that The prophets born here The prophet know that It is the land of kind , welfare and tied The religions at that land The assembly of religions The peace between nations Were established there Here was the prophet David Who the mounts the trees , The stones and  the birds, Repeated his prays He governed with justice After him ,Solomon was gotten He governed with justice The welfare had increased And the peace with there The Romans occupied it And the injustice appeared The killing and the theft Were actually increased Here was born Jesus Who invited to peace At shortest and clear That was not admired By Romans or Jewish Who were there They planned to **** him The land became unfair The decreasing of welfare The increasing of fear Till the new nation appeared The new religion increased It called for justice It led to peace The Muslims achieved a victory As they built a great glory And they blockaded the land The patriarch man said," We didn’t give the keys Except to your leader Who is justice’s famous" They wore one of soldiers The smartest cloth They introduced him As the prince of Insurers as the caliph of Muslims The greatest patriarchs said," That is not the man we did Actually knew and have red At our book that mentioned Him actually as we saw awake." The leader of soldiers ordered To sent a letter to the caliph At bright city wide distance As he wanted to keep blood Out of bleeding He wanted not to **** The innocent people He didn’t want to bore His name over death His religion ordered them To save the innocent people To the caliph to came The caliph and a servant  moved The leader of the greatest land At that time, at that moment From the kind and light city He read the yassin of holy Quran that equals twenty Minutes For riding the donkey And his servants walks only Then the caliph got off only And the servant rode the donkey And they read the yassin for away To count and know time And mention the God only Then the caliph and servant  also Walked with their donkey To rest it also They keep reading yassin only Till they reached near the holy City that mentioned with  holy In Quran with great respect The turn is on the servant   To get  that donkey rode And the caliph would walk He said," my prince! I must Get down and you must Ride that donkey" He said," then I will be called Injustice caliph led the insurers To be injustice at every talkers And it is your turn If the air came to me smelt With good smell than yours If the water I drink Have more delicious than yours If I created from mud Made of silver and gold I will rode that animal And you must go walker Ride it my good insurer" The soldiers saw him They did great clutter They wanted to salute him The patriarch said with amazed," See what is that noise? He looked and said That is him , that is him!" The patriarch went and looked He counted patch in his The cloth of the greatest prince Of the greatest Nation motioned At the ancient, at the present He said," you are who is mentined! You are the caliph "Omar" was the caliph He gave them the safe deal That mentioned by his name The patriarch gave him the keys Of  Jerusalem to him The time for afternoon pray came The caliph prayed out the church The patriarch said Why you didn’t pray at that Place at the inner of the church Omar said if I prayed here The Muslims after that Say "Omar" prayed here And they took it To be a mosque indeed
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC
The pigeons
The pigeons are sad The pigeons saw that The future comes with bad The pigeons were telling that The prophets born here The prophet know that It is the land of kind , welfare and tied The religions at that land The assembly of religions The peace between nations Were established there Here was the prophet David Who the mounts the trees , The stones and  the birds, Repeated his prays He governed with justice After him ,Solomon was gotten He governed with justice The welfare had increased And the peace with there The Romans occupied it And the injustice appeared The killing and the theft Were actually increased Here was born Jesus Who invited to peace At shortest and clear That was not admired By Romans or Jewish Who were there They planned to **** him The land became unfair The decreasing of welfare The increasing of fear Till the new nation appeared The new religion increased It called for justice It led to peace The Muslims achieved a victory As they built a great glory And they blockaded the land The patriarch man said," We didn’t give the keys Except to your leader Who is justice’s famous" They wore one of soldiers The smartest cloth They introduced him As the prince of Insurers as the caliph of Muslims The greatest patriarchs said," That is not the man we did Actually knew and have red At our book that mentioned Him actually as we saw awake." The leader of soldiers ordered To sent a letter to the caliph At bright city wide distance As he wanted to keep blood Out of bleeding He wanted not to **** The innocent people He didn’t want to bore His name over death His religion ordered them To save the innocent people To the caliph to came The caliph and a servant  moved The leader of the greatest land At that time, at that moment From the kind and light city He read the yassin of holy Quran that equals twenty Minutes For riding the donkey And his servants walks only Then the caliph got off only And the servant rode the donkey And they read the yassin for away To count and know time And mention the God only Then the caliph and servant  also Walked with their donkey To rest it also They keep reading yassin only Till they reached near the holy City that mentioned with  holy In Quran with great respect The turn is on the servant   To get  that donkey rode And the caliph would walk He said," my prince! I must Get down and you must Ride that donkey" He said," then I will be called Injustice caliph led the insurers To be injustice at every talkers And it is your turn If the air came to me smelt With good smell than yours If the water I drink Have more delicious than yours If I created from mud Made of silver and gold I will rode that animal And you must go walker Ride it my good insurer" The soldiers saw him They did great clutter They wanted to salute him The patriarch said with amazed," See what is that noise? He looked and said That is him , that is him!" The patriarch went and looked He counted patch in his The cloth of the greatest prince Of the greatest Nation motioned At the ancient, at the present He said," you are who is mentined! You are the caliph "Omar" was the caliph He gave them the safe deal That mentioned by his name The patriarch gave him the keys Of  Jerusalem to him The time for afternoon pray came The caliph prayed out the church The patriarch said Why you didn’t pray at that Place at the inner of the church Omar said if I prayed here The Muslims after that Say "Omar" prayed here And they took it To be a mosque indeed
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137
Technology, You know me so well I share everything with you first You know everything about me Things I might not even be aware about You bring me to Utopia with each touch A single swipe, and I get my cup of tea But how bad could you be for me I have increasingly decreasing attention I am just a tool to you A point to collect more data to sell And sell away to manipulators And attack me with new intelligence I am always gullible Technology, I can't live without you I need you more than I thirst for water why do you set out to destroy my entire race?
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Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 3:14 PM UTC
technology, friend and foe
I wrote about you, day and night You are my moon, you are my sun I wished for the day when we would finally unite Like the stars in the galaxy, shining bright I was dreading the fact that the day might never come When you wrap me in your arms and tell me it's fine When you utter those words and protect me for life My dread was increasing, my hopes were decreasing I slowly shattered into a deep despair Losing all senses of a fulfilled life and hope I thought that the fantasies and dreams in my head are unrealistic and are merely an illusion But then there you were, my protector, my hero You grabbed me right at the end of the cliff and held me tight You reassured and brought my soul back to life You were my protector, and I was yours We are now, now and forever, inseparable For we suffered too long in the absence of one another
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
My Soulmate
Dear life, what is it that makes you take on a journey which always leads towards an unavoidable, devestating yet resenting death ? Since I cannot understand it fully I wander upon this world without finding any clear answers to satisfy the curiousity my heart bears. In the realm of dreams I find rest, as my mind engages into this illusion and frees me from this reality for as long as my body pleases. Awakened by loitering darkness, these questions are repeating themselves on a path of recurrance, without decreasing in strengh. As my breath dies while feeling the agony, flames of hatred are seeping through my fragile, delicate existence, giving energy. Rumbling, boiling in sadness I tell myself that anyone's forgiveness is not neccesary, losing control over this riot of pure fury without heart. Looking back a thousand times, it remains as my very best choice. Letting these emotions race, rage and rampage uncontrollably Whilst losing ones self within a lunatic laughter to release pressure I cannot stop these tears, pitying the past long gone rolling down my cheeks, moistening the very soil I am growing on, as a pure lily Until the moment comes in which my body exhausts itself and allows me to enter the world of dreams, where despair fades into happiness. Until the sun rises once again ~ Umi
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Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
Pure Lunacy
It is a growing issue that the amount of metaphors never used before by the hand of man is decreasing significantly and needs to be addressed soon because the number of poets appearing out of nowhere is increasing exponentially because we all want to compare our love to the wind forever competing for self entitled originality and instant gratification until all we have left in this world is cliche after cliche after cliche. Where will we find ourselves when we find out all the words are taken?
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
cliche
the backyard is home to a field of flowers amidst the roots the family dog discovers skeletons the petals stick to themselves; the weeds spread it's found that the flower-bed holds its secrets with curiosity and wandering eyes comes a child in innocence, he opens his arms only to receive pain he drops to the earth, writhing in pain his light form crushing the weeds and flowers the dog barks at the screaming child and tries to release him from the skeletons the strength of their grasp is that of their secrets you see the effects spread across the child's skin they spread his face warping under the pain opening his mouth, he began releasing his secrets telling only the ears of the crushed flowers and the arms around him, those of the skeletons look at the helpless child the bones are engulfing the child grabbing and pulling, faster they spread the boy becomes one with the skeletons he becomes one with his pain his body sinks further down into the flowers and the flowers promise to keep his secrets the weeds overheard his secrets the boy looks less and less of a child as he settles in with the flowers making room for him, the flowers spread the suffering subsides, decreasing pain he's almost as the skeletons his body unites with the skeletons the ***** age keeps his secrets no longer is there pain no longer is there a child into the ground, his limbs spread into the roots of the flowers the pain no longer is in the child because the skeletons stole his secrets his bones spread among the flowers
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Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 1:59 PM UTC
the secret of the flowers; a sestina. [2011]
the backyard is home to a field of flowers amidst the roots the family dog discovers skeletons the petals stick to themselves; the weeds spread it's found that the flower-bed holds its secrets with curiosity and wandering eyes comes a child in innocence, he opens his arms only to receive pain he drops to the earth, writhing in pain his light form crushing the weeds and flowers the dog barks at the screaming child and tries to release him from the skeletons the strength of their grasp is that of their secrets you see the effects spread across the child's skin they spread his face warping under the pain opening his mouth, he began releasing his secrets telling only the ears of the crushed flowers and the arms around him, those of the skeletons look at the helpless child the bones are engulfing the child grabbing and pulling, faster they spread the boy becomes one with the skeletons he becomes one with his pain his body sinks further down into the flowers and the flowers promise to keep his secrets the weeds overheard his secrets the boy looks less and less of a child as he settles in with the flowers making room for him, the flowers spread the suffering subsides, decreasing pain he's almost as the skeletons his body unites with the skeletons the ***** age keeps his secrets no longer is there pain no longer is there a child into the ground, his limbs spread into the roots of the flowers the pain no longer is in the child because the skeletons stole his secrets his bones spread among the flowers
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39
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say? Forget it—never mind, You wouldn’t understand anyway, Would you even know what it's like? Inside a scattered disconnected mind, Employed to go on strike? Where indirect misdirect The sincerity at play, When sinusoidal chaos spikes And past meets the future present day? As paranoid points outlandishly connect At intervals of broken lines, Memory lost in recollect, An array of misshaped bells Internally infect the eternal confines Of infinite distributional decay, Parallels with no intersect, Streetwise cells with empty signs, Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines, Littered all the way. How am I to convey that all those times You let your mind wander away That I was reading, thinking, dreaming, Teeming, never idle, never strayed, Seeing, being, so far and away, Even the brightest intellect beaming, Could not grasp the feeling In the slightest of highest orders reeling, Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming, Imperfect, even to the disarray Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict Could not predict the reflect, For in this world, seeing is deceiving, As the lamest reject, defect, Increasingly decreasing, In simplistic bliss obey Crowned unsound fallacies That contradict all meaning, Hiding behind reality, the actualities Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving, Let me stop you if I may... I must interject for I digress, What nonsense was I weaving? Forget it—I've lost my mind, I best be leaving, What more can I say? It's periodic I must confess, You probably don't care anyway, Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay, Until next time I guess, I wouldn't want to be misleading.
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May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
A Scattered Point
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say? Forget it—never mind, You wouldn’t understand anyway, Would you even know what it's like? Inside a scattered disconnected mind, Employed to go on strike? Where indirect misdirect The sincerity at play, When sinusoidal chaos spikes And past meets the future present day? As paranoid points outlandishly connect At intervals of broken lines, Memory lost in recollect, An array of misshaped bells Internally infect the eternal confines Of infinite distributional decay, Parallels with no intersect, Streetwise cells with empty signs, Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines, Littered all the way. How am I to convey that all those times You let your mind wander away That I was reading, thinking, dreaming, Teeming, never idle, never strayed, Seeing, being, so far and away, Even the brightest intellect beaming, Could not grasp the feeling In the slightest of highest orders reeling, Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming, Imperfect, even to the disarray Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict Could not predict the reflect, For in this world, seeing is deceiving, As the lamest reject, defect, Increasingly decreasing, In simplistic bliss obey Crowned unsound fallacies That contradict all meaning, Hiding behind reality, the actualities Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving, Let me stop you if I may... I must interject for I digress, What nonsense was I weaving? Forget it—I've lost my mind, I best be leaving, What more can I say? It's periodic I must confess, You probably don't care anyway, Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay, Until next time I guess, I wouldn't want to be misleading.
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51
We look upon each other Drawing in the attraction Wondering what’s beyond the skin Inadequacy is sometimes found Once we’ve pierced the heart within… What if what makes us who we are A total package if you prefer Gives away our true kind Decreasing the images’ worth Creating a change of mind… A peek inside the soul Could be all we need to see Sealing the fate of charm A face that’s average to the eye Has the heart to unravel and disarm… If you look at all the masterpieces artists have created Whether paint or pen, marble or clay, Or perhaps the dust from the ground We see many imperfections But overall beauty may astound
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
inner beauty
Countdowns have always seemed bittersweet to me.. The steady ticking away of time The trickle of sand through the hourglass. The fading of connections not curated. I’ve always been morbidly aware of my own doomsday clock, Slowly beating, decreasing, releasing my Seconds into the atmosphere around me, As I wait, sometimes impatiently, for it to hit zero. Some days, I hope for my hourglass to run dry, And while I know that that isn’t a healthy mindset, Some days it is all that I can do to not hurry it along. Not to take that revolver in my dad’s lockbox, Not to take those pills in the medicine cabinet, Not to take that rope and the one wobbly stool that has sat at our bar for the past five years… Just beckoning me. Just wanting me to take that final step into sweet, sweet oblivion. But. If I do take that final step.. Who would be there to pick up the pieces for them? To clean up the mess that this disgusting body left behind? Who would be there to finish my paintings, To sing my unsung list that is ever-expanding, To write these words that have seemed so forced these past months? Who would be there for them, when I could not be? Someone, I am sure, but I have been told that I am irreplaceable, And while I may not believe that, I am scared of leaving a mess behind That my mother cannot bring herself to clean up. I am scared of leaving behind a mess that would irrevocably break my father, A mess that would torment my brothers, A mess that my sisters would never even remember. And maybe.. Maybe I am scared of the call of oblivion.. Or scared of the unknowingness of it all, rather. Or perhaps I am tired of thinking of myself as a mess to be cleaned up, Nothing more, and nothing less. And maybe That is all I need To survive one more day.
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Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 11:32 PM UTC
Slowly Unto Doomsday
Countdowns have always seemed bittersweet to me.. The steady ticking away of time The trickle of sand through the hourglass. The fading of connections not curated. I’ve always been morbidly aware of my own doomsday clock, Slowly beating, decreasing, releasing my Seconds into the atmosphere around me, As I wait, sometimes impatiently, for it to hit zero. Some days, I hope for my hourglass to run dry, And while I know that that isn’t a healthy mindset, Some days it is all that I can do to not hurry it along. Not to take that revolver in my dad’s lockbox, Not to take those pills in the medicine cabinet, Not to take that rope and the one wobbly stool that has sat at our bar for the past five years… Just beckoning me. Just wanting me to take that final step into sweet, sweet oblivion. But. If I do take that final step.. Who would be there to pick up the pieces for them? To clean up the mess that this disgusting body left behind? Who would be there to finish my paintings, To sing my unsung list that is ever-expanding, To write these words that have seemed so forced these past months? Who would be there for them, when I could not be? Someone, I am sure, but I have been told that I am irreplaceable, And while I may not believe that, I am scared of leaving a mess behind That my mother cannot bring herself to clean up. I am scared of leaving behind a mess that would irrevocably break my father, A mess that would torment my brothers, A mess that my sisters would never even remember. And maybe.. Maybe I am scared of the call of oblivion.. Or scared of the unknowingness of it all, rather. Or perhaps I am tired of thinking of myself as a mess to be cleaned up, Nothing more, and nothing less. And maybe That is all I need To survive one more day.
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42
building purist æsthetic proselytizing solar-powered heliolatry commemorating historic concert sensing dark forces fokken lekker antwoord pumping sensory overload featuring high-tech dee-jay admiring gelato micro-truck laxing laying lazing "doing something nasty" continuing quality content entering another cathedral journeying without borders "exactly one year since visiting vatican" appreciating full-time gigasphere awaiting pyongyang performance depicting unlikely crowdsurfer foreseeing exponential improvements furthering esoteric agenda sensing profound incompatibility data-mining people's infidelities anticipating futuristic caffeine perfecting invisible propaganda researching mind-control techniques polishing psycho-social weaponry sensing social embargo flourishing frantic fanfare admiring longitudinal monument parodying marketing slogans cycling through österreich eyeing dystopian disneyland streaming crosswords extended-play herding glass kittens deleting idiosyncratic fragment loremipsum-ing laconic loudmouth receiving ultramodern telegram eigo-ga wakarimasu ka? guzzling duck-fat fries encouraging panic selling (juxtaposing past incarnations) getting black-and-white privilege renewing boutique account relishing cinema poutine re-entering hibernation mode opening old windows continuing zoo motif absquatulating excessive excesses nullifying originality claims proliferating protean persona disappearing sidewalk alphabet shrugging opprobrious moments enjoying vertical alignment re-entering cyberpunk paradise approaching island sun soaring beyond monoliths trivializing extraneous argy-bargy decreasing character limits dumping generic accounts uglifying commit message escaping into idiosyncracy moonshining great lake exuding idiosyncratic propaganda living nineties' dreams making occidental cuisine envisioning idiocratic president expropriating your time ascending homely helix singing fat lady
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
201508-h2
building purist æsthetic proselytizing solar-powered heliolatry commemorating historic concert sensing dark forces fokken lekker antwoord pumping sensory overload featuring high-tech dee-jay admiring gelato micro-truck laxing laying lazing "doing something nasty" continuing quality content entering another cathedral journeying without borders "exactly one year since visiting vatican" appreciating full-time gigasphere awaiting pyongyang performance depicting unlikely crowdsurfer foreseeing exponential improvements furthering esoteric agenda sensing profound incompatibility data-mining people's infidelities anticipating futuristic caffeine perfecting invisible propaganda researching mind-control techniques polishing psycho-social weaponry sensing social embargo flourishing frantic fanfare admiring longitudinal monument parodying marketing slogans cycling through österreich eyeing dystopian disneyland streaming crosswords extended-play herding glass kittens deleting idiosyncratic fragment loremipsum-ing laconic loudmouth receiving ultramodern telegram eigo-ga wakarimasu ka? guzzling duck-fat fries encouraging panic selling (juxtaposing past incarnations) getting black-and-white privilege renewing boutique account relishing cinema poutine re-entering hibernation mode opening old windows continuing zoo motif absquatulating excessive excesses nullifying originality claims proliferating protean persona disappearing sidewalk alphabet shrugging opprobrious moments enjoying vertical alignment re-entering cyberpunk paradise approaching island sun soaring beyond monoliths trivializing extraneous argy-bargy decreasing character limits dumping generic accounts uglifying commit message escaping into idiosyncracy moonshining great lake exuding idiosyncratic propaganda living nineties' dreams making occidental cuisine envisioning idiocratic president expropriating your time ascending homely helix singing fat lady
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69
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate... circumcised: to purify spiritually On the eighth day, from my nativity, circumcised, as is the custom of my wandering tribe. marked thusly, perma-identity carded, thusly begins the path, a pink-bricked road this one, not to the Mighty Oz, no phony curtain pulled aside, where anyone goes to get spiritual purification for a price Ah, you suspected something else, something explicit, not me~style, give you honey, road provisions, come along for the observing his clickety clackty clock Ready? For where we venture there is only one exit, And you are so not ready - I am who I am and I am not ready too... every line an enunciation, every stanza an annunciation, Angel Gabriel, a solo duo, unlike Beyoncé and Jesus we be on our way to any kind of purity, poetry can buy who knows what awaits us, could be catholic, universal, even the uncircumcised get a chance to enunciate. let me offer a clarification. proclamations and sensations, conditions and exploitations, brown eyed girls, and surfer boys, functions and malfunctions too, abbreviations or adjudications, conjugations in the congregation, exhumation, the final excommunication, I shun none, I enunciate this: false starts and junction boxes, too many so so tired, when can I lay down my shovel and cease the decreasing deceasing of the body this day nears complete, and soon to eat the last meal, and still I ask when can I lay down my shovel, when will purity be mine, my spirit's circumstances repeat the commercial, I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate... forgive my abstrusion, my metaphors always offer perfect laxity, choose the interpretation that pleases most and my drift is toward the end of days, when will my brow be a motif of anointment and crowning head birth? This is my Enunciation. I cannot yet lay down the shovel, and this writ is as of yet, still uncircumcised - completely incomplete, it will be finished when the spirit says you are the purity, the trinity of two hands holding two others holding two others holding two others and the chain is perfect because it is broken perfectly, a forever repetitive respective handle with care process Forgive my visionary words that give little clarity, so summary due you, This is my Pronoun citation I am I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate on my way to the purity of spirit.
0
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate...
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate... circumcised: to purify spiritually On the eighth day, from my nativity, circumcised, as is the custom of my wandering tribe. marked thusly, perma-identity carded, thusly begins the path, a pink-bricked road this one, not to the Mighty Oz, no phony curtain pulled aside, where anyone goes to get spiritual purification for a price Ah, you suspected something else, something explicit, not me~style, give you honey, road provisions, come along for the observing his clickety clackty clock Ready? For where we venture there is only one exit, And you are so not ready - I am who I am and I am not ready too... every line an enunciation, every stanza an annunciation, Angel Gabriel, a solo duo, unlike Beyoncé and Jesus we be on our way to any kind of purity, poetry can buy who knows what awaits us, could be catholic, universal, even the uncircumcised get a chance to enunciate. let me offer a clarification. proclamations and sensations, conditions and exploitations, brown eyed girls, and surfer boys, functions and malfunctions too, abbreviations or adjudications, conjugations in the congregation, exhumation, the final excommunication, I shun none, I enunciate this: false starts and junction boxes, too many so so tired, when can I lay down my shovel and cease the decreasing deceasing of the body this day nears complete, and soon to eat the last meal, and still I ask when can I lay down my shovel, when will purity be mine, my spirit's circumstances repeat the commercial, I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate... forgive my abstrusion, my metaphors always offer perfect laxity, choose the interpretation that pleases most and my drift is toward the end of days, when will my brow be a motif of anointment and crowning head birth? This is my Enunciation. I cannot yet lay down the shovel, and this writ is as of yet, still uncircumcised - completely incomplete, it will be finished when the spirit says you are the purity, the trinity of two hands holding two others holding two others holding two others and the chain is perfect because it is broken perfectly, a forever repetitive respective handle with care process Forgive my visionary words that give little clarity, so summary due you, This is my Pronoun citation I am I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate on my way to the purity of spirit.
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84
As The Second Hand Clicks, On A Scarred Clock's Face, The Days Become Shorter, Breaths Become Abrupt And Shallow Brittle Leaves, Crumble Under Quiet Feet, And **** Branches, Give Intruders A Silent Kiss Words Not Even Spoken, Are Hushed By The Wind The Cold Air, Soothes The Stars, Making Them Looked Refreshed, Allowing Them To Glitter, In Glassy Green Eyes The Atmosphere, Begins To Thin Out, Comets Dive, Though The Surface, Like Dolphins, But They Hold An Impossible Promise, A Wish, A Secret A Star Dangles From Her Neck, A Wish, A Promise What Does Autumn Hold? What Does Winter? Spring? Summer? Will I Be Able To Curl Up In Loving Arms? Or Will I Be Curling Up In The Snow? As The Seasons Change, Shall I? As Summer Dwindles Into Autumn, Shall I Change With The Seasons? Shall I Become Brittled, And Weak, Like The Autumn Leaves, Or The Decreasing Sunlight? Or Shall I Bloom Like The Stars, In Winter's Night Sky
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Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
As The Seasons Change, Shall I?
October 3, 2013 at 1:22am So maybe I still miss you, but apathy is the way I want to feel towards you; *I want the ache in my chest to diminish, to be completely extinguished in a quick fleeting moment.* But it’s more like erosion, only washing away the most miniscule amount at a time. Decreasing the pain in the tiniest of amounts, taking decades and centuries of wind, light, and rain to morph it into what I desire it to be, without any distinguished timeline. Just natural causes that move uncontrollably along, constantly irritating, festering, and ripping the scab of the wound in awkward moments of solitude. I’m a slave to the tormenting low burning throb.
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Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Erosion
Warm waxy drips Waxing eloquently Of the candle’s luminosity Of generosity In decreasing the ignominy of ignorance Let not the candle wax Wane For she will be in pain If her efforts go vain Of letting the photons flow Creating an incandescent glow Shaping an ambience perfect for alliance For lovers holding hands Across candle stands Stealing kisses With rapturous bliss She melts at the core Letting the wick to the fore Barely lasting the night She lives a life giving light A lesson in grace Is her existence As she burns at a pace With death in her embrace
0
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Incandescent existence
Taking place where you calumniate with hidden mask behind interface An embolism hidden behind your lines Where a falsetto lies your charm How you create isobaric pressure degradation between your monodical screaming mee-mee's Creator of sheol , abode of the dead poets So supine in way and thought Where will your Valhalla be You valetudinarian _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Caluminate - to utter maliciously false statements . Interface - a shared boundary across embolism - a swelling of a blood vessel due to blockage isobaric pressure degradation - lines drawn on a weather map marking increasing or decreasing air pressure Sheol - the place of the dead supine - failure to act due to moral weakness Valhalla - Norse hall of God's where slain hero's are received valetudinarian - one who shows unduly concern for their health
0
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
My mocking bird of rage
Tracks trembled, catering for my destination westward, field alongside industry courted, dancing the miles ahead, celebrating scenic mystery, roaving in splendour, hills pumping spellbinding grassy greatness, devouring, readying for mountainous masterpieces I am sun drenched in strobed springtime, relishing the thaw of rivers running forever, snowy peaks holding onto winters shivering tale, huddling cold coats like pashminas trailing.... unfinished,their needlework on pinpoint exercise Inside I sit next to myself, folding minutes into moments of memory, tracks decreasing inner city air, and I regard evermore with special splendour, the developing rocks and craggy cliffs arriving neatly at the foot of the sea waving white flags, receding, chasing....
0
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
Journey to North Wales
Intensity for you wavers not Your lips pure ******* Love stronger than the drugs Coursing through my shallow veins I am searching for a way to repair That will stop gnawing emptiness I swear there's no fairness in this world I am waiting, I only see less and less Contentment is clearly decreasing Do not know where it keeps on running to Am tracking with the tools I have Navigation here is hard to do Thoughts and devoted feelings intersect Wish my mind was a blank slate Yearn to eject unsavory parts Pull out of this unhealthy state I will be addicted to you for life Inhale the smoke that makes up who you are Sweet smell of nostalgia and lost intimacy I face the pain of another scar Terrible remains will be all that is left Part of me forever gone and departed Human weakness flows through my blood You are a drug I wish I had never started
0
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
******* Lips
Conscious how below self awareness motives can be. Subconscious no matter the state. The density remains linear; all drawn in pen to attend to these feuding desciples of being “super” and the instinctive relliance on idioms, of actions portrayed further than words, finding balance on this epicenter of egocentric dreams coined all along the same metaphor. Sides- to what ever shape of form of the matter , linear at point we all eventually dive/urge finding another point above or below convergence in light to change focus in volume/mass equaling (1)ndividuality / decreasing the density of situations
0
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
far-sighted
Kind of like counting the stars in the sky Its ridiculous to count the moments spent To count the days gone by Because to be honest its all been mushed together Like pieces of the events slowly woven in And to be honest, I wouldn’t have spent it any better Than to be with you But let me take ti slowly Back-track Because when we first met, I couldn’t have imagined it like this Now Let me be perfectly honest when I say That I did not expect things to turn out this way Because here I am lil miss haven’t been with anyone since god knows when And here you are mistry white clouds with golden sun rays shining through Mister deep sea blue eyes so easy to take a dip in Mister piece of art museums everywhere are missin’ Walking imperfectly along black pavements and gray roads You see it was an impossibility for me to be with you What with how darkness easily encompasses me What with how words are easily slippin out of your lips What with how words are easily ****** into my minds dark abyss And to be honest trying to capture the words into moments spent have been nothing but troublesome due to how much is entangled by thoughts like "wow I can’t believe this is happening" So just like counting the number of lights that paint the sky Its kinda ridiculous coming up with 21 good reasons why today is pretty amazin’ Because there aren’t any letters that can string along together To describe the amount of possible reasons why I find today quite so special Because To be frank its been 35 days, 840 hours, 50400 minutes with seconds still counting Because to be practically accurate its been 141 days, 3384 hours. and 203040 minutes with seconds continuously running And no matter the moments passing It still feels as though our infinities are intertwining Decreasing the time that continues spinnin’ I can’t give you any good reasons just as the universe can’t place any more lights up there But for a perfect one I guess I can compose That without you here There wouldn’t be a rope for me to hold Now I’m not saying that without you here I can’t find a way to make my own happiness appear I’m not saying you’re this bright light that shines through the grey crowds Allowing me this way to surface from the deepest of seas I’m saying that because you’ve been living in my mind rent free since day one All of which that kept me drowning and entangled by chains that are not my own Has loosened up and given me this ability to be free And a better place to be Because the perfectly composed reason why this is becoming an amazing year Is because you are here, my dear Now I hope all of your wishes come true Cause all I’m asking from you Is for more days to spend together Completing the impossibly ridiculous task fo counting the stars in the sky With just you And I
0
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 5:21 AM UTC
Counting Stars
Kind of like counting the stars in the sky Its ridiculous to count the moments spent To count the days gone by Because to be honest its all been mushed together Like pieces of the events slowly woven in And to be honest, I wouldn’t have spent it any better Than to be with you But let me take ti slowly Back-track Because when we first met, I couldn’t have imagined it like this Now Let me be perfectly honest when I say That I did not expect things to turn out this way Because here I am lil miss haven’t been with anyone since god knows when And here you are mistry white clouds with golden sun rays shining through Mister deep sea blue eyes so easy to take a dip in Mister piece of art museums everywhere are missin’ Walking imperfectly along black pavements and gray roads You see it was an impossibility for me to be with you What with how darkness easily encompasses me What with how words are easily slippin out of your lips What with how words are easily ****** into my minds dark abyss And to be honest trying to capture the words into moments spent have been nothing but troublesome due to how much is entangled by thoughts like "wow I can’t believe this is happening" So just like counting the number of lights that paint the sky Its kinda ridiculous coming up with 21 good reasons why today is pretty amazin’ Because there aren’t any letters that can string along together To describe the amount of possible reasons why I find today quite so special Because To be frank its been 35 days, 840 hours, 50400 minutes with seconds still counting Because to be practically accurate its been 141 days, 3384 hours. and 203040 minutes with seconds continuously running And no matter the moments passing It still feels as though our infinities are intertwining Decreasing the time that continues spinnin’ I can’t give you any good reasons just as the universe can’t place any more lights up there But for a perfect one I guess I can compose That without you here There wouldn’t be a rope for me to hold Now I’m not saying that without you here I can’t find a way to make my own happiness appear I’m not saying you’re this bright light that shines through the grey crowds Allowing me this way to surface from the deepest of seas I’m saying that because you’ve been living in my mind rent free since day one All of which that kept me drowning and entangled by chains that are not my own Has loosened up and given me this ability to be free And a better place to be Because the perfectly composed reason why this is becoming an amazing year Is because you are here, my dear Now I hope all of your wishes come true Cause all I’m asking from you Is for more days to spend together Completing the impossibly ridiculous task fo counting the stars in the sky With just you And I
Continue reading...
57
Time flies away, Not everything we expect stays... Incremates our feelings deep down. The heavenly dreams, the joyful moments, all gone astray. Colours fade away, The brightness of life turning dark... Perceives everything as scary. The understanding ones, the Confidence, all turned into ashes. People walk away, The crowd decreasing into a few.... Touching reality from the pinnacle of life. The merriment, the enthusiasm, all wipe away.
0
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 4:40 AM UTC
---Twirl---
darkened eyes, a loss of sparkle hardened by the starkest heart marvel at the harmful parcel imparted scars starting to part discarded stars, embarking targets barred from the starving art pardoned by departing darkness that was ardent from the start (in a crescendo poem, the vowel sound you are working with must build up to a peak in intensity(crescendo), by increasing that vowel sound with each line, then gradually decreasing in the second stanza. for example, here i use /ar/ sounds...2 in first line, 3 in second and third lines, and 4 in the fourth line...then in second stanza, use same count backwards, like 4 in first line, 3 in second and third lines, and two in the last line...it can have a scheme of 1-2-3-4, then 4-3-2-1 or whatever, as long as it gradually reaches a peak(crescendo), and then gradually decreases. both stanzas must match in the amount of vowel sounds used)
0
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
imparted darkness - new form - crescendo poem