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"deliberating" poems
The Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, who brings chills down my spine every time. Sweet on the inside, cold-hearted on the outside, Especially when he leaves me high and dry in the morning unexpectedly. He’ll remind me that I’m alive, And make me feel Zen for a split second, Then he splits in a second. Or The Caramel Macchiato, Tall with a sophisticated smile And unrealistically hazel eyes That read “bello” around his irises. With a shot of expression— He’s never afraid to speak how he feels. But that’s just the Italian in him. Or The Pumpkin Spice Latte, The most popular guy. He’ll warm me up when I’m cold; And make me feel like I’m his only one, He’ll tell me everything I want to hear, Then he’ll disappear without a sign— At least until the next year, Only to continue the same cycle over again. Or The Cappuccino, He’s got a strong mind like those French roast blends With a secret soft side. He speaks with fluidity and is As charismatic as the rest. He’s a morning person nonetheless, And won’t leave me loveless In the sheets like Mr. Vanilla Bean sometimes does. Or The Teavana Chai Tea Latte He sounds fancy, does he not? He’s different to say the least, Layered with many spices, And from cinnamon trees, He’s warm-hearted, yet feisty. Gentle, yet fatuously energetic. Soft spoken, yet bold, He doesn’t have to do much To have me sold to his trance. Now for me to decide what I want As more people file in, deliberating the same Line up as I, but they have more to Choose from. Perhaps I should loosen up some, and go With last one.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
The (Men)u
The Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, who brings chills down my spine every time. Sweet on the inside, cold-hearted on the outside, Especially when he leaves me high and dry in the morning unexpectedly. He’ll remind me that I’m alive, And make me feel Zen for a split second, Then he splits in a second. Or The Caramel Macchiato, Tall with a sophisticated smile And unrealistically hazel eyes That read “bello” around his irises. With a shot of expression— He’s never afraid to speak how he feels. But that’s just the Italian in him. Or The Pumpkin Spice Latte, The most popular guy. He’ll warm me up when I’m cold; And make me feel like I’m his only one, He’ll tell me everything I want to hear, Then he’ll disappear without a sign— At least until the next year, Only to continue the same cycle over again. Or The Cappuccino, He’s got a strong mind like those French roast blends With a secret soft side. He speaks with fluidity and is As charismatic as the rest. He’s a morning person nonetheless, And won’t leave me loveless In the sheets like Mr. Vanilla Bean sometimes does. Or The Teavana Chai Tea Latte He sounds fancy, does he not? He’s different to say the least, Layered with many spices, And from cinnamon trees, He’s warm-hearted, yet feisty. Gentle, yet fatuously energetic. Soft spoken, yet bold, He doesn’t have to do much To have me sold to his trance. Now for me to decide what I want As more people file in, deliberating the same Line up as I, but they have more to Choose from. Perhaps I should loosen up some, and go With last one.
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52
when the water rushes to fill my ears, I hear the ever-present, rarely-heard drum of my own heart beating at the edge of the water, I can feel it around my face as my eyes blur upwards, here I am blinking and thinking always thinking, or maybe deliberating arguing, even, with myself pushing the thoughts of drowning to the back of my mind again distracted by the soft hum of it the music I have going on the sink, by the tub, filled with water filled with me pulling my knees to examine the bruises scattered across my legs a deep breath in, hold it while pure silence envelopes me, there I close my eyes let the thoughts continue let them be im happy
0
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
bubble bath
time governs you and me treat it not irreverently chance the unknown while you can sands of time pause for no woman nor man one and all quick sticks the time piece it ticks it ticks dithers and dawdlers hear the alarm wasted days do each of us irreversible harm of the calendar year we are sure but moments in time are pending trapdoors make every venture your stock in trade lest time render us uncertain and afraid in reality rosters and agendas do vary devilish time oft wickedly contrary speed up Jack and Jill sundials are on a roll time is indiscriminate exacting a costly toll governor time is carefully deliberating our pendulums remonstrating
0
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Time
Alabaster Archipelagos Benevolent Beauty Beaming Constructive Contradictive Creative Contemplations Dante's Darling Dances Deliberating Denominatives Effervescent Escapisms Endearingly Emerge Elusive Edens   Fantastic Flamboyant ******** Flamed Fabulous Fiery Flickerings Gorgeous Garden Gim'memores Gaudied Garnishing Gasps Heavenly Hues Humming Heart's Harmonies Immortaly Impregnated Inspired Ideals Jessamin Jargon Jacuzzi Jams Know-how Knacking Knurls Light-spirited Lovers Merge Magnificent Naked Nocturno Nights Omnipresent Ousia Over Odeons Palpitations Perfect Peaks Pi Paws Quintessential Quality Quarrels Question Quarks Quietness Rododendron's Richameters Rescued Raw Reeling Ruby Realms Sentient Syllabic Sapfo's Splendidly Spirited Semantics Turning Turner's Timeless Timeless Twinklings Unified Undulatory Unsolved Unicorns Velvety Venice Voyages Wanton Wantings Xsylophone Xsantiphas Yearnin' Yuki's Yen Zed's Zealous Zen-it-hall Zeppelins
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Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
A to Be is Why to Zed ~ An Alabaster's Alphabet
I thought my thoughts were bigger than anyone's. Maybe I was bigger than anyone. This served to isolate me from the fact that I am small, not bigger and I am okay with that. When did it begin? Why would I need this mechanism of living? Did it start at birth? Or when my cat died in our house fire? Maybe... When I lost my father to his mental illness? When he was taken away? Maybe the **** When the trauma set in? If I am a mass of cells, a living organism, vulnerable to this world of others. I need protection. There was none when little. Children need protection. I developed my bigger-self by watching others. I learned to protect. I learned to heal. I learned to forgive, but always, my thoughts were bigger than yours. You didn't recognize so I appeared aloof, angry, bitter, warming, smarter, friendly, volatile, politically correct, patient, intense, stubborn, caring, wistful, shattered and put together again. I was all over the map. I couldn't find my waypoint, until now. This is life's way. Our vehicle is our thoughts. I am not bigger in thought, in action or in self. I am tired of running away, of blaming, of being ashamed. I no longer need protection other than from myself. I am now relaxing in the part I could not have been taught. The idea that even experiences, over and over and over again, would teach me my lesson. You ask why people keep repeating mistakes. This is our allotment. The price each of us pays. It is my thoughts that save me now, wondering about my son, his illness, about my predicament after years of hard work, unabashedly independent, procuring mindfulness, deliberating the Buddhist way, meditating on thoughts, through a maze of my twelve steps that I now for this moment am alone in.  My thoughts deconstructed. More connected, but not bigger. My shoulders drop, my face unfurrows, my heart slows, a tear begins if I let it. I am released. I will not suffer further. How can I tell you, I am not bigger any longer and I am at peace.
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Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Bigger
I thought my thoughts were bigger than anyone's. Maybe I was bigger than anyone. This served to isolate me from the fact that I am small, not bigger and I am okay with that. When did it begin? Why would I need this mechanism of living? Did it start at birth? Or when my cat died in our house fire? Maybe... When I lost my father to his mental illness? When he was taken away? Maybe the **** When the trauma set in? If I am a mass of cells, a living organism, vulnerable to this world of others. I need protection. There was none when little. Children need protection. I developed my bigger-self by watching others. I learned to protect. I learned to heal. I learned to forgive, but always, my thoughts were bigger than yours. You didn't recognize so I appeared aloof, angry, bitter, warming, smarter, friendly, volatile, politically correct, patient, intense, stubborn, caring, wistful, shattered and put together again. I was all over the map. I couldn't find my waypoint, until now. This is life's way. Our vehicle is our thoughts. I am not bigger in thought, in action or in self. I am tired of running away, of blaming, of being ashamed. I no longer need protection other than from myself. I am now relaxing in the part I could not have been taught. The idea that even experiences, over and over and over again, would teach me my lesson. You ask why people keep repeating mistakes. This is our allotment. The price each of us pays. It is my thoughts that save me now, wondering about my son, his illness, about my predicament after years of hard work, unabashedly independent, procuring mindfulness, deliberating the Buddhist way, meditating on thoughts, through a maze of my twelve steps that I now for this moment am alone in.  My thoughts deconstructed. More connected, but not bigger. My shoulders drop, my face unfurrows, my heart slows, a tear begins if I let it. I am released. I will not suffer further. How can I tell you, I am not bigger any longer and I am at peace.
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31
Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Live for the weekend Watch TV Live for the weekend Watch TV Out on the town for the weekend Watch TV Watch TV Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Escape into your escapism Get lost in your escapism Trust in your escapism Get trapped into escapism Escape from your escapism Escape from your self made prison Escape the acceptance that's arisen Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? We're Drones Robotics Clones on antibiotics Zoned hypnotic Habitually ****** Artificially exotic Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? You're watching your *** life on Tv A package holiday - pretend to be free Post on Facebook how life should be Focus your kids on getting a C Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies In systems that we all despise Because you sat at home on your own Or In a pub over grub Or on a phone having a moan Or a coffee shop pontificating Or a lecture cleverly debating Or an artists studio 'creating' But you didn't ******* do anything did you? You thought about it You talked about it You sat and maybe wrote about it But you actually DID nought about it Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? What if we in our liberal pomposity Followed up our curiosity And put an end to a small atrocity Instead of deliberating the big ones Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it. Do something.
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Do something
Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Live for the weekend Watch TV Live for the weekend Watch TV Out on the town for the weekend Watch TV Watch TV Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Escape into your escapism Get lost in your escapism Trust in your escapism Get trapped into escapism Escape from your escapism Escape from your self made prison Escape the acceptance that's arisen Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? We're Drones Robotics Clones on antibiotics Zoned hypnotic Habitually ****** Artificially exotic Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? You're watching your *** life on Tv A package holiday - pretend to be free Post on Facebook how life should be Focus your kids on getting a C Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies In systems that we all despise Because you sat at home on your own Or In a pub over grub Or on a phone having a moan Or a coffee shop pontificating Or a lecture cleverly debating Or an artists studio 'creating' But you didn't ******* do anything did you? You thought about it You talked about it You sat and maybe wrote about it But you actually DID nought about it Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? What if we in our liberal pomposity Followed up our curiosity And put an end to a small atrocity Instead of deliberating the big ones Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it. Do something.
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53
Parliament's headquarters--Back alley for smokes n' such. Politicians deliberating on the bread and the butter While the starving go hungry and the Truth begins to suffer. Never point to the signs on the wall 12 steps, Denial before the fall. Consumerist, zombie shuffle back to the car, the market's full up. Look for the polyethylene creamer. Metallic coated groceries For the plastic (PORTIS issued) consumer. "Coke is it" they would say as they take the morning grind (black/two sugar.) Racists make the sea of Policy makers and warmongers, Bathing in other's poverty, hunger and pain; Fearing death before the climb, G-d before the fall Slashing at the necks of basilisks until they turn to stone.   Blind and petrified to the core, I swear God, Parliament will smoke no more. Comes along the Harbinger, you've got one new message. Message one, There is no god, only me. I'm your Hypocrisy. Cry to an empty thought, kid the kidders, sin among sinners. Shamble back to Parliament's sanctuary, the legislators are in, Let Smokes n' Such begin.
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Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Neurological Toxin (Or Internal Struggles with God)
I sit at the window sill Summoning for spring's till Of thickets of green mandates fill The procession and succession with frill All rise with new blossoms being a thrill My spring garden fitting the bill For the little birdies that mill With their pleas of a worms swill First, let's arrest the lingering winter chill The deliberating ill Citing that bitter bitter pill That sentences my grief's overspill With the last backlog of snow on the hill Of the icy roads that overkill Free my hammer from waiting still For the arrival of springs shrill And the exit of winter's will My eyes hold court for the first daffodil Logan Robertson 4/08/2019
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:38 AM UTC
Courting The First Sign Of Spring
Some days we'd lay about the milled plank deck eyes to the sky shoulders pinned deliberating on the hickory trees and pillow clouds and heavenly contrails the warm caress   of a mid-summer wind whispering through the hayfields coondog at our side sandhill crane still feet in the shallows of the Haldimand pond a soft trickle coming from the Pickerel stream creaks from the woodshed whistle as the Massey Ferguson putters her way up the county line catharsis in place (in this ethereal space) just a garden variety day ...with fire ants and fowler toads and golden honey bees
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Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 2:40 PM UTC
The undulations and permutations of the Caledonia country side
Stop badgering the witness! Love is a mysterious thing poker face Even though we tend to think of soul mates as a symbiotic union, we have to be open-minded Marriage is a business transaction *We've all had nights we can't remember... or wish we could forget* as we all recalled it was the mindset that triggered strong emotion into an explosion that separate the thing called love. It’s have been more than twenty odd years since the Weeper's victims left over tears, that never faded. the dead  never felt neither pain nor anger The jury is still deliberating long and hard with miles   to go on the public views, so once again if the gloves don't fit you must acquit   Stop badgering the remaining witnesses America Love is a mysterious thing, poker face
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
Stop Badgering The Witness
*A black and white world doesn't suit me   I have a visceral response to generalizations   that serve to minimize, demonize, marginalize Neither can I accept an existence sheltered in grey   restrictively deliberating in the narrow space   between cautious optimism and healthy skepticism The spectrum of possibility is infinite   when seen with an open mind and giving heart   at the risk of discovering beauty*
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Spectral Living
Every thought you have ever had Whether good or bad Sprung from the recesses of your mind A deliberating consciousness that is blind. Every feeling you have ever felt Was wound tightly with a deterministic belt Every word you have ever written Was written with a hand wearing a causal mitten. Free-will is an illusion and always has been, However, this is perhaps one elephant in the room best left unseen. Dualism is a false philosophy. We are a causal system, In a Universe governed by a causal piston. Libertarian free will is a delusion. However comforting it may feel to be free, I had no other option that to write these words, And be me. “Man can do what he wills but he cannot will what he wills.” ― Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms
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Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
I had no choice
The proceedings are a circus Justice is a joke The jury's out deliberating On whether they should take another **** Cameras in the courtroom So we can watch the lawyers lie Toss up between them and the defendant On who commits the bigger crime Media in a frenzy Toss a line into the public pool The uninformed bite at the hook Where both fact and fiction plays the fool Black robe takes up the seat of judgment To hear of all the indiscretions Disorder in the courtroom Where the unbelievable is now in session
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
The Jury Is Out... (Of Justice)
A non-entity in mental state, A spirit I'm not there, I sit alive deliberating if I'm really here, The day is passed, when we spoke last, Must be using different tongues, Sat here in a vacant void, Wondering what I've done, Nothing at all, I'm sure, Think a whole lot more, I know that headphones obscure that noisy world outside, When only music fills your head, I'm waiting just outside, Where I shall still sit and wait, Patiently...... By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Message from Cans! (Headphones)
My wife and I went down to the pub Just the other day We thought we’d have a drink and a bit of grub It was such a beautiful day Everyone there was in great form Having a laugh and the craic But one man did not seem to fit the norm My dear wife seemed taken aback! He certainly seemed to be full of the joys, But looked like he had one too many he seemed a lot drunker than the rest of the guys though appeared much happier than any! I wondered why this was bugging my wife so She seemed more than a little upset I asked her “Is he someone you know” Never expecting the answer I’d get! She explained he was her ex boyfriend From about eighteen years ago. She brought the relationship to an end, had not seen him for twelve years or so At the time he was absolutely devastated He seemed to take the break up badly She felt guilty about his whole life being wasted She told me ever so sadly She heard many stories after they parted About him out partying every night She felt guilty he was so broken hearted But felt she had to do what was right She heard he took heavily to the drink Friends told her he went quite mad But not for one minute did she ever think Things had got quite so bad. Friends told her he never really settled down Went through one woman after another He seemed overly fond of being out on the town Always in one pub or the other Be God says I, after deliberating Because she was almost in tears “Are you telling me he’s been celebrating For nigh on eighteen years”? Well it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop The atmosphere suddenly got much colder I started laughing, I just could not stop For six weeks I got the cold shoulder! The day proved a valuable life lesson for me I have since learned to keep my mouth shut The only problem with that, unfortunately Is that now I have nowhere to put my foot!
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:45 AM UTC
Foot in Mouth Disease
My wife and I went down to the pub Just the other day We thought we’d have a drink and a bit of grub It was such a beautiful day Everyone there was in great form Having a laugh and the craic But one man did not seem to fit the norm My dear wife seemed taken aback! He certainly seemed to be full of the joys, But looked like he had one too many he seemed a lot drunker than the rest of the guys though appeared much happier than any! I wondered why this was bugging my wife so She seemed more than a little upset I asked her “Is he someone you know” Never expecting the answer I’d get! She explained he was her ex boyfriend From about eighteen years ago. She brought the relationship to an end, had not seen him for twelve years or so At the time he was absolutely devastated He seemed to take the break up badly She felt guilty about his whole life being wasted She told me ever so sadly She heard many stories after they parted About him out partying every night She felt guilty he was so broken hearted But felt she had to do what was right She heard he took heavily to the drink Friends told her he went quite mad But not for one minute did she ever think Things had got quite so bad. Friends told her he never really settled down Went through one woman after another He seemed overly fond of being out on the town Always in one pub or the other Be God says I, after deliberating Because she was almost in tears “Are you telling me he’s been celebrating For nigh on eighteen years”? Well it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop The atmosphere suddenly got much colder I started laughing, I just could not stop For six weeks I got the cold shoulder! The day proved a valuable life lesson for me I have since learned to keep my mouth shut The only problem with that, unfortunately Is that now I have nowhere to put my foot!
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48
Time is slowing, Everything desires to hibernate as winter kisses the mountain valleys, And the end has faded into the now, My beloved present, An inevitable tick...tick... A minute has passed and it feels like I have been smothered through my angst against time. I am crawling, waiting, searching... Deliberating, trying to lose myself, And the revolution plays throughout my mind, Whipping through every thought as I box and battle this decision against disease, against prejudice, to fight for sanity, a pleasurable manifestation of change. I am broken, I have been this way for quite some time as the facts choose to remain just that, facts. With spring shall come the bittersweet rejuvenation of my re-emergence into society where nothing has changed yet everything will be different, Where the mind and heart heals, The spirit shall bloom, prosper...breath. With the transition comes hope, magic, possibilities, And an insightful chance that came from finally making the right choice, Taking the right turn, and out will break the miracles of life from within and throughout. The answers will come from the darkness within the darkness. I had to ride the rails to be saved; Had to bathe in impunity to finally see. To breath, to laugh, to joke, to be free, to live, To take away the want and the need elevates the innocence and does more than open the mind as we become free. We all have dreams, girl, we all dream. It has become the true never ending of blossomed virtues, ambitions, goals, inhibitions, values... This is this, and that is that.
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Chance Conundrum Choice
Time is slowing, Everything desires to hibernate as winter kisses the mountain valleys, And the end has faded into the now, My beloved present, An inevitable tick...tick... A minute has passed and it feels like I have been smothered through my angst against time. I am crawling, waiting, searching... Deliberating, trying to lose myself, And the revolution plays throughout my mind, Whipping through every thought as I box and battle this decision against disease, against prejudice, to fight for sanity, a pleasurable manifestation of change. I am broken, I have been this way for quite some time as the facts choose to remain just that, facts. With spring shall come the bittersweet rejuvenation of my re-emergence into society where nothing has changed yet everything will be different, Where the mind and heart heals, The spirit shall bloom, prosper...breath. With the transition comes hope, magic, possibilities, And an insightful chance that came from finally making the right choice, Taking the right turn, and out will break the miracles of life from within and throughout. The answers will come from the darkness within the darkness. I had to ride the rails to be saved; Had to bathe in impunity to finally see. To breath, to laugh, to joke, to be free, to live, To take away the want and the need elevates the innocence and does more than open the mind as we become free. We all have dreams, girl, we all dream. It has become the true never ending of blossomed virtues, ambitions, goals, inhibitions, values... This is this, and that is that.
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25
One. The highest truth is determined through a combination of logical and intuitive scrutiny. Two. The highest beauty is the discernment of the truth and its relationship with falsity.     Three. The highest love is felt with an inexorable beauty and is the path to liberty. Four. The highest liberty is gained through utilising the truth for the benefit of all and is sustained through peace. Five. The highest peace is achieved through application of liberty and wisdom. Six. The highest wisdom is a process of deliberating future actions based on principles. Seven. The highest principle is respect. Eight. The highest respect is achievement of altruism. Nine. The highest altruism is the acceptance of the knowledge of the unity of all things. Ten. The highest unity is the unfolding eternity within everything.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Spiritual Premises
Robin eggs, smashed in the ground. Another gulp, I let my eggs drown. Swallows look more desperate when they're dying for company. I found my confidence, in always laughing too loud not remembering where I went I don't want to spend more money. I don't want to read a good book. If I have to pick something, I'll keep deliberating on that question. Fears block the way I climbed up -jump the plunge is far too deep for breathe . Please don't call my heart will bear another pure lie I'd have to tell you I'm doing fine. Catchy conversations held in shield of questions. Old women tell me they're not fine, never do I turn to my side. Horsing blinders I walk to the end of the aisle.
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
Dream Trio
But really girl, the truth relies on writing as it happens Disregarding fascination's fabrication worn, Forge ahead through egotisms barriers and banners Carve the ******** mercilessly till the prize is born. Truth reveals the factual in an act of contemplation Contemplation cutting condescention's lies away, Revealing now the whiteness of the values on the paper Revealing now the prize of integrity at play. M.
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Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Deliberating Briar Thornly's "Déjà vu" @ Breakfast.
~ Walls of Flesh ~ Life isn't just what is seen in a pretty picture, But the secrets buried from within the walls of our flesh, and hidden deep inside, Intellectually we stand tall, body held strong by the back bone of our pride, While we battle the constant thoughts of the conscious mind, Unable to see the whole picture because we are blind. What if we crossed the wrong bridge, or took the wrong street? Should we prepare ourselves for lies and deceit? Instead of what makes our heart beat? Trying to look prettier everyday, but still perfect in God's eyes, Inside we still burn with secrets and lies, Still trying to control in their heart what lives or dies, How do you deal with those whose mind has taken over their lives? Behind the walls of flesh is where they hide. We don’t have time to let anyone else in, So our lives are basically pretend, We hold up a shield that's made of tin. Some people can't handle the struggle, so their thoughts drive them insane, But still strong, holding onto the pride while showing no pain. Then what happens to the one's who are weak and can't stand alone without pride? Will they just disintegrate and die? Will the secrets and pain eat them alive? Our soul is eating it's flesh from within, trying to survive, Wanting to escape from behind the walls of where they hide. The pain from our past, Has forced us to wear a mask. Deliberating the differences of the pro's & con's, The scale tips, unbalanced decisions of right or wrong, Those who are lost, searching for their place in this world and where they belong. Life isn't just what is seen in a pretty picture, But the secrets that burn from behind the walls of our flesh, and hidden deep inside, Body held up by the back bone of our pride. So why can't we break down the walls of our flesh and let everyone in? No matter their differences, no matter their sin? Because as humans we are afraid of possible hurt, And that is no reason to treat them like dirt. To be the person that you were created to be, Take a chance to just break free, Convince our soul that its okay to finally breathe. Reach inside yourself and decide,... ' Inside these walls of flesh,   I NO LONGER HIDE ! '
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Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Walls of Flesh
~ Walls of Flesh ~ Life isn't just what is seen in a pretty picture, But the secrets buried from within the walls of our flesh, and hidden deep inside, Intellectually we stand tall, body held strong by the back bone of our pride, While we battle the constant thoughts of the conscious mind, Unable to see the whole picture because we are blind. What if we crossed the wrong bridge, or took the wrong street? Should we prepare ourselves for lies and deceit? Instead of what makes our heart beat? Trying to look prettier everyday, but still perfect in God's eyes, Inside we still burn with secrets and lies, Still trying to control in their heart what lives or dies, How do you deal with those whose mind has taken over their lives? Behind the walls of flesh is where they hide. We don’t have time to let anyone else in, So our lives are basically pretend, We hold up a shield that's made of tin. Some people can't handle the struggle, so their thoughts drive them insane, But still strong, holding onto the pride while showing no pain. Then what happens to the one's who are weak and can't stand alone without pride? Will they just disintegrate and die? Will the secrets and pain eat them alive? Our soul is eating it's flesh from within, trying to survive, Wanting to escape from behind the walls of where they hide. The pain from our past, Has forced us to wear a mask. Deliberating the differences of the pro's & con's, The scale tips, unbalanced decisions of right or wrong, Those who are lost, searching for their place in this world and where they belong. Life isn't just what is seen in a pretty picture, But the secrets that burn from behind the walls of our flesh, and hidden deep inside, Body held up by the back bone of our pride. So why can't we break down the walls of our flesh and let everyone in? No matter their differences, no matter their sin? Because as humans we are afraid of possible hurt, And that is no reason to treat them like dirt. To be the person that you were created to be, Take a chance to just break free, Convince our soul that its okay to finally breathe. Reach inside yourself and decide,... ' Inside these walls of flesh,   I NO LONGER HIDE ! '
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45
*i hate this ******** even writing about it gives me Sartre's nausea, but it's the reality, and as such, given it's reality, it's in-escapable, so there's no point hiding behind a putrefaction of ideals with nice, ear-pleasing sensible words that do not antagonise, let alone engage with dialectics, that sharpened version of what is know to be simply: a conversation, or via Shakespeare: too many stages, too many worlds, too few actors, a load of physicists though, deliberating poly-dimension etc., but too few actors; what a massive Holocaust of subjectivity this scientific positivism came to be... clearer cloning devices are in place than what the Koran invites. they will not convert so easily, having been robbed of communism! the mongolian conversation / connection, i.e. if it worked for the mongolians to become a nation sub- in the geopolitical stratification they say: 'it should have worked for us, but it didn't, we're as dispersed as the jews! and we're met with more anti-semitic remarks around the globe than the ******* Deutsche!* and when the recession hit the majority of european countries poland remained recession free, and when the migrant crisis came the european union abolished the schengen union: zumbi e o senhor das guerras zumbi e o senhor das demandas quando zumbi chega e zumbi quem manda your tribe - our tribe - i.e. **** your little unity project for a café culture; hostility will be met with hostility, or quiet simply right-wing football hooligan marches with a flare for acrobatics of explosives... i didn't want it, as honesty goes i am in debt with Scottish universities and i'm not paying them back... i'm on £120 a week benefits after being misdiagnosed as schizoid... oh look, Michael Myers is smoking a pipe of Hashish in Damascus.
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May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
und Deutsche
*i hate this ******** even writing about it gives me Sartre's nausea, but it's the reality, and as such, given it's reality, it's in-escapable, so there's no point hiding behind a putrefaction of ideals with nice, ear-pleasing sensible words that do not antagonise, let alone engage with dialectics, that sharpened version of what is know to be simply: a conversation, or via Shakespeare: too many stages, too many worlds, too few actors, a load of physicists though, deliberating poly-dimension etc., but too few actors; what a massive Holocaust of subjectivity this scientific positivism came to be... clearer cloning devices are in place than what the Koran invites. they will not convert so easily, having been robbed of communism! the mongolian conversation / connection, i.e. if it worked for the mongolians to become a nation sub- in the geopolitical stratification they say: 'it should have worked for us, but it didn't, we're as dispersed as the jews! and we're met with more anti-semitic remarks around the globe than the ******* Deutsche!* and when the recession hit the majority of european countries poland remained recession free, and when the migrant crisis came the european union abolished the schengen union: zumbi e o senhor das guerras zumbi e o senhor das demandas quando zumbi chega e zumbi quem manda your tribe - our tribe - i.e. **** your little unity project for a café culture; hostility will be met with hostility, or quiet simply right-wing football hooligan marches with a flare for acrobatics of explosives... i didn't want it, as honesty goes i am in debt with Scottish universities and i'm not paying them back... i'm on £120 a week benefits after being misdiagnosed as schizoid... oh look, Michael Myers is smoking a pipe of Hashish in Damascus.
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23
I wonder, sometimes, why it is a fact, A gifted, handsome man should be alone. My iambic pentameter’s intact, And yet I tend to lyric on my own. Alliteration alienates romance. The ladies scorn my struggle with cliché They scoff, then aggravated, wring their hands. Yet still I need to couplet every day. I’m thinking as I sit beside my date, “I’ll syllable you soon if I am able.” At times my meter renders me irate. It’s difficult to rhythm at the table. “Another cup?” I search her face for clues. She looks a little bored. It can’t be me. I pass the menu for her to peruse. “Why don’t you try a blended Chinese tea?” I’m formulating ditties as she speaks. “I think I’d like to go. I’m rather hot.” “Do stay. I’ve ordered brussels sprouts and leeks.” Her grimace indicates she’d rather not. I wonder if I’ve aimed a little low. Her diction leaves a lot to be desired. I’d like to teach her how to ebb and flow, But ‘clueless’ leaves me, frankly, uninspired. She fidgets nervously and looks away. I wonder if the woman is a freak. “I hope you’re not illiterate,” I say. I may have been a little indescrete. My fears were justified, she’s never heard Enjambment quite like mine in all her days. She slaps my face and tells me I’m absurd, Then dumps me in a non-poetic daze. I could have blessed her with a monologue; Enthralled her with the kernel of my quill; enchanted her with dazzling dialogue, If only she’d have stayed to pay the bill. Now woe is me. I’m lost and incomplete. Lamenting my position; full of doubts. Deliberating how a man can eat A double share of leeks and brussels sprouts.
0
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
Man Musing
I wonder, sometimes, why it is a fact, A gifted, handsome man should be alone. My iambic pentameter’s intact, And yet I tend to lyric on my own. Alliteration alienates romance. The ladies scorn my struggle with cliché They scoff, then aggravated, wring their hands. Yet still I need to couplet every day. I’m thinking as I sit beside my date, “I’ll syllable you soon if I am able.” At times my meter renders me irate. It’s difficult to rhythm at the table. “Another cup?” I search her face for clues. She looks a little bored. It can’t be me. I pass the menu for her to peruse. “Why don’t you try a blended Chinese tea?” I’m formulating ditties as she speaks. “I think I’d like to go. I’m rather hot.” “Do stay. I’ve ordered brussels sprouts and leeks.” Her grimace indicates she’d rather not. I wonder if I’ve aimed a little low. Her diction leaves a lot to be desired. I’d like to teach her how to ebb and flow, But ‘clueless’ leaves me, frankly, uninspired. She fidgets nervously and looks away. I wonder if the woman is a freak. “I hope you’re not illiterate,” I say. I may have been a little indescrete. My fears were justified, she’s never heard Enjambment quite like mine in all her days. She slaps my face and tells me I’m absurd, Then dumps me in a non-poetic daze. I could have blessed her with a monologue; Enthralled her with the kernel of my quill; enchanted her with dazzling dialogue, If only she’d have stayed to pay the bill. Now woe is me. I’m lost and incomplete. Lamenting my position; full of doubts. Deliberating how a man can eat A double share of leeks and brussels sprouts.
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40
It aint hard to tell I excite those who dwell In my presence my foes be hesitant Deliberating debating and hating Welcome in the sons of satan Watch my gun get blatant Belligerent despairing the hearts of The innocent Most people dont follow rules I refuse to be a mule **** youtube rules and the punk *** trollers move over There a new sheriff in town Shot the da va and deputy Now whos wearin' the crowns ? King of the original jew whoever knew I would be born inside of a jail cell Made from hell learned the best from sniffin' yeyo My pang couldnt even hold on whale scales Take short of the L then inhale Turn spectators skins pale When the reporters try to yell But cant escape deaths bail It aint hard to tell Know i got haters Following me like Jesus I resurrected hip hop Im Lazarus disastrous My crew wrecks only In guns we trust til our barrels rust Wipe out the must Got keep a clean mind when i grind Looking for the ultimate sunshine Middle fingers to one time The narcs hidin' the parks Im lightin' em up like John Starks My mid range is wicked past sadistic Just being realistic So if ya wanna be a statistic I advise ya remain un Belligerent Broke the mental shackles When life started to tackle I got curious as a jackal Laughin' at my enemies all the way to the bank Mis the feds foes to hoes And pop open the drank blaze the pounds While ill count my franks That means my money banks Ill leave ya mind stiff as a plank When i drop these lyrical bombshells Yo it aint hard to tell
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
It Ain't hard to Tell G
It aint hard to tell I excite those who dwell In my presence my foes be hesitant Deliberating debating and hating Welcome in the sons of satan Watch my gun get blatant Belligerent despairing the hearts of The innocent Most people dont follow rules I refuse to be a mule **** youtube rules and the punk *** trollers move over There a new sheriff in town Shot the da va and deputy Now whos wearin' the crowns ? King of the original jew whoever knew I would be born inside of a jail cell Made from hell learned the best from sniffin' yeyo My pang couldnt even hold on whale scales Take short of the L then inhale Turn spectators skins pale When the reporters try to yell But cant escape deaths bail It aint hard to tell Know i got haters Following me like Jesus I resurrected hip hop Im Lazarus disastrous My crew wrecks only In guns we trust til our barrels rust Wipe out the must Got keep a clean mind when i grind Looking for the ultimate sunshine Middle fingers to one time The narcs hidin' the parks Im lightin' em up like John Starks My mid range is wicked past sadistic Just being realistic So if ya wanna be a statistic I advise ya remain un Belligerent Broke the mental shackles When life started to tackle I got curious as a jackal Laughin' at my enemies all the way to the bank Mis the feds foes to hoes And pop open the drank blaze the pounds While ill count my franks That means my money banks Ill leave ya mind stiff as a plank When i drop these lyrical bombshells Yo it aint hard to tell
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51
Their eyes meet... from two opposite corners of the room, immediately recognizing, but still familiarizing eagerly staring without faltering each other' s thoughts, they are reading yet, torn by hindrances existing... But their hearts and minds overrule... "forget the couples surrounding! forget the music playing! forget the shadows in the dance ongoing!" Not a blink, not a wink... eyes, seem deliberating, steps, though measured, still move in haste, walking, the distance, lessening, crossing, nearing without knowing... hands clasp slowly, tightly... lovingly accepting... Hearts are beating faster, now communicating... how could it be possible to touch without touching? thinking their lips, kissing, to hug without embracing, through their eyes, caressing... ~~~it is time to escape~~~ Eyes still glued to each other, face to face this moment, here...now... breath against breath, lips...apart...begging... both unaware of their chests thumping... arms seeking arms, lips seeking lips... this is the moment.... sweet, sweet surrender... love, long withheld, to be released, desire, has to be unleashed... Two old lovers, once lonely doves, now making love, in their own passionate way, making up for long lost times... Two old lovers, left with no choice but to tread along life's beaten roads, find comfort once again, in each other' s warmth... arms wouldn't dare let go, never, never again.... Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A Bayan
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Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Old Friends
the resurrection of the roman empire happened a long time, it probably happened when the latinißed (in english the german eszett works miracles in terms of how the s and z mingle in certain words, interchanging in certain words, where even an s is involved in spelling a word, it’s not necessarily pronunciated, e.g. empiricism is written thus but necessarily it could be empiricißm) started using revised arabic digits, given the near synonymous simplicity of both systems of notation - the near skeletal orientation of the eye sockets proved that the characters of the language had to involve a complication - the insurgence of the diacritical marks on certain letters is keenly metaphorical as the descent of the resurrected rome, via the heart thumping in the vatican, the caesars becoming popes and hypocrites deliberating on what’s supposed to be hidden and what’s to be revealed - while cyrillic became neo-greek, after all: Γ (gamma / ge)                         ι (iota / dotted ι) ε (epsilon / ze)                           κ (kappa / ka) Η (eta / en)                                o (omicron / o) π (pi / pe)                                   τ (tau / te) υ (upsilon / u)                            φ (phi / ef) ρ (rho / er)                                  χ (chi / kha) ~ψ (psi) i.e. ш (sha); and because the greeks developed actual names for letters, it was only rational to employ these letters as scientific constants ranging with popular demand in physics and chemistry.
0
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
resurrection of rome from above
the resurrection of the roman empire happened a long time, it probably happened when the latinißed (in english the german eszett works miracles in terms of how the s and z mingle in certain words, interchanging in certain words, where even an s is involved in spelling a word, it’s not necessarily pronunciated, e.g. empiricism is written thus but necessarily it could be empiricißm) started using revised arabic digits, given the near synonymous simplicity of both systems of notation - the near skeletal orientation of the eye sockets proved that the characters of the language had to involve a complication - the insurgence of the diacritical marks on certain letters is keenly metaphorical as the descent of the resurrected rome, via the heart thumping in the vatican, the caesars becoming popes and hypocrites deliberating on what’s supposed to be hidden and what’s to be revealed - while cyrillic became neo-greek, after all: Γ (gamma / ge)                         ι (iota / dotted ι) ε (epsilon / ze)                           κ (kappa / ka) Η (eta / en)                                o (omicron / o) π (pi / pe)                                   τ (tau / te) υ (upsilon / u)                            φ (phi / ef) ρ (rho / er)                                  χ (chi / kha) ~ψ (psi) i.e. ш (sha); and because the greeks developed actual names for letters, it was only rational to employ these letters as scientific constants ranging with popular demand in physics and chemistry.
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