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"demolishes" poems
Neither in the vividness of the arches of a cathedral, Nor in the dangling bells and echoing rituals of a temple, Neither on the holiest banks of Nile or Ganges, Nor among the peaks of the grandest Mountain, There is no augury, there is no God, is there no God? And if there is, Why are the eyes of lives haunted by the cruel dreams of disbelief? Why is banishment tangled around the feet of a truth seeker? Why the perverse thoughts and deeds ruling the Mankind? Why the pious body and mind are today full of grief? If there’s God, Why is this sea of cold blood on a high tide? If there’s God, Why are the innocent lives being wasted? If there’s God, Why are the good being handcuffed? If there’s God, Why the darkness is today the source of light? The slaps of violence on the face of peace is a sign of doom, If there’s no God, then these drops of bloods cry for whom? But GOD is that moment which is beyond knowledge and wit, That one cipher which has taken centuries and yet not deciphered, That one point of thought where the minds seize to think, That one decision which stops a man from giving up, That one drop of tear from the eyes of an Oppressed, That one source of energy which makes us to take a stand, That one voice of truth which demolishes the works of lie, That one smile of innocence which equals a million shouts, That one silver lining which makes us believe in ourselves, Calls Aloud and makes us believe, that there is A GOD, And He’s Everywhere, With everyone, and Will always be.
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
That One Belief
Neither in the vividness of the arches of a cathedral, Nor in the dangling bells and echoing rituals of a temple, Neither on the holiest banks of Nile or Ganges, Nor among the peaks of the grandest Mountain, There is no augury, there is no God, is there no God? And if there is, Why are the eyes of lives haunted by the cruel dreams of disbelief? Why is banishment tangled around the feet of a truth seeker? Why the perverse thoughts and deeds ruling the Mankind? Why the pious body and mind are today full of grief? If there’s God, Why is this sea of cold blood on a high tide? If there’s God, Why are the innocent lives being wasted? If there’s God, Why are the good being handcuffed? If there’s God, Why the darkness is today the source of light? The slaps of violence on the face of peace is a sign of doom, If there’s no God, then these drops of bloods cry for whom? But GOD is that moment which is beyond knowledge and wit, That one cipher which has taken centuries and yet not deciphered, That one point of thought where the minds seize to think, That one decision which stops a man from giving up, That one drop of tear from the eyes of an Oppressed, That one source of energy which makes us to take a stand, That one voice of truth which demolishes the works of lie, That one smile of innocence which equals a million shouts, That one silver lining which makes us believe in ourselves, Calls Aloud and makes us believe, that there is A GOD, And He’s Everywhere, With everyone, and Will always be.
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26
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony Till Hurricane bisect And as itself discerns Its sufficient Area The Heart convulsive learns That Calm is but a Wall Of unattempted Gauze An instant’s Push demolishes A Questioning—dissolves.
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The Heart has narrow Banks
Bold=Chris Italic=Tiffany **You are darkest beauty Hunted by this frenzy These aging, wizened eyes Track you through the night Prey for the predator** As for the creature feasts on the most unknown meal of all not the dark but thy light **Draining the sweet innocence Hungry for the souls taste But you stay just of reach The closer to thy light It burns at this darkness** The light shines with no effect upon thy dark but the dark shines no mercy but glory and hatred the dark predator gives to thy light **This creature feels only rage Consumed at he can not have Fury at what he can never be For he never knew the angel Of the darkest beauty in hiding** Thy angel of light bares to thy soul of thy darkest part of the creature of the dark exposes its true beauty and shines light on its pure light and the demon of darkness demolishes thy lights soul and the light shall stay nonimmortal while the dark overules the light and captures both sides dark and thy light both parish in a eruption of flames and disappear in a thin of smoke and never return to thy land of good and evil. Collaboration by Chris Smith the dark poet And Tiffany Gold
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
Dark poetry Collaboration between Tiffany Gold and Chris Smith
The heartbeat dictatorship beats Emotions with the string of a puppet Difficult decisions deceived as beneficial Easy choices masked as treason The truth can not set free If the truth fills personal opinion Real truth demolishes happiness Real truth despises the elated Real truth shows beneath plastic masks Beneath the puppet strings Real truth governs the heartbeat dictatorship Real truth is the single leader to bow down to And pray: Dear lord keep me from danger Keep me from evil Keep me from sin Dear lord set fire to my heart So you can believe my heartbeats And smell my pulse Dear lord lay destruction on my soul So I can be capable So I can mask Dear lord be with me through all So I can feel your presence And feel powerless Dear lord cross my spirit And keep me from the devil So I can scream in peace
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
Heartbeat Dicatatorship
Your voice follows me Demolishes me Crushes me I hate to hallucinate But sometimes I wish It really was you calling me
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Hallucinate
1 poor Rachael married for love Now twenty years through and ignored by the hubby who’s given up work and sits at home drinking all day No more kind words to Rachael never a gentle look, but just sarcasm and imbecilities all day Will not even come out for a walk with Rachael; no desire for fresh air just sits there drinking and farting - Poor Rachael, she never comes back to fresh air or a kind look 2 Rachael is out today with a mission to make her life pleasant “A pet is what I’ll have,” she says to herself and she’s in a pet shop now looking at an exotic bird 3 “That there,” says the shop owner *“is a bird rare and unique; let me demonstrate”* And straight he says to the bird: “Zasala, the table!” And Zasala flies straight and swift to the table – and appecks* and demolishes the table as swift as you can say *** “Zasala, the broom!” And Zasala flies straight and swift to the broom – and appecks* and demolishes the broom as swift as you can say **** “I’ll take it," says Rachael, with a smile Poor Rachael, she hasn’t smiled in years 4 “Darling,” says Rachael the moment she gets home *“Look what I’ve got – an exotic bird, Zasala!”* And straight Rachael’s clueless husband says: “Zasala, my foot!”
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Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 6:16 AM UTC
Yasala bird
It’s so disturbing to see what people come to How quickly they ruin what might have been It’s so disturbing to see people go from light to dark It physically hurts to watch them fall It’s so disturbing to watch your friends whither As they turn their back on heaven’s light It’s so disturbing to see the past disappear To watch as history demolishes itself It hurts to see people ruin themselves People who were so close to you Friends and neighbors moving on And leaving you wondering what is right It’s hard to leave the past behind The memories you thought were life itself Those moments you wish would last forever Old jokes never told again It can’t be stopped It can’t be avoided It can only be accepted No matter how hard it feels at first. And then forever.
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Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Disturbed
I'd guess I'd have to say Your kiss Is always like the rain Its always refreshing Comforting It can wipe away thoughts It demolishes my fears It soothes I love the rain But I love your kisses A million times more.
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Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Raindrop Kisses
land of gold and silver birds with bright feathers burning wild with sparkle and shine spit plastic to the waves of red faces and grasping fingers these hands reaching for anything close to home. land of bursting hearts front doors open for warm breezes to come in and sit for a while begging for a brass line, a mild conversation never sleeping, for fear of seeing that nightmare of rain. land of waterlines spray painted symbols on abandoned walls tags of sadness and across the street, the greenery demolishes vacant lots as if to **** the emptiness. land of human sacrifice since Napoleon's footprints covered each corner since ships baring human cargo made port since walls were built only to be tore down by mother nature herself. land of the broken land of the lost land of the free. land where beauty rises through the storm music begins and ends with the single loudest note voices are not quiet or harsh or unkind. land of peaceful noise land of burning passion for courage land of pride.
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
new orleans
Twister Demolishes town Strangely named Flat Gap Ironic
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Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
Twister*
Dear Sun, If I have to believe on my school books or scientifically proven expert mind opinions You are a white sphere, an anarchic system, composed of hot, destructive plasmons and your rays have the power to turn my skin and bones into a lump of grey ash no matter how far from you I stand on Every morning when your light yellow rays softly touch me, a smile spreads on my soul and the yellow, orange and magenta shades you left in front of the darkness made me to feel, You are beautiful though my mind knows You are nothing but a colourless or white burning ball You don't care me neither I do But there is something unseen between I and you, demolishes itself each minutes, each seconds holds your angers and scatters them into beautiful colours and made me to love each time I see you But I wonder Why I failed and am failing to honour, appreciate and praise love of the unseen one and his/her sacrificial care?
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Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
The Sun and I
We are all born as winners But the world turns us to sinners Just young humble beginners In a world wrought in hate A self-destructive fate Demolishes our will to wait So we procreate to satiate The internalized aggression To the state's possession Of our life's great potential Their media too influential Over our minds it drills deep Making our inner eye weep The tears fall and begin to seep Into our nightmares as we sleep And see our eternal defeat We are brought to the feet Of our fears and anxieties All wrought from insecurities Towards superfluous identities That we praise in a zealous craze Overtaken by a materialist haze
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Modern Materialist
Please just leave me alone Leave me here to rot You think that I am fine? Believe me I am not. Please just leave me alone As my sanity demolishes at last Please don't make me cry I've cried enough in days passed. Please just leave me alone I'm begging you, begging you please My mouth says it again and again But my mind keeps screaming don't leave
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Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
LEAVE
I slept in my clothes My sanity in its death throes I throw back some whiskey Makes me feel frisky Cuts back the static Demolishes the walls of this ******* attic So silent I can hear my heart beating My lucidity is thankfully fleeting I dive into a world unseen Not dreams nor reality, but something in between Up here time has no meaning The sun is no longer gleaming Darkness clouds my mind But I am free and unconfined My issues scattered on the floor Nothing less, nothing more
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Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
The Attic
I cannot eat my anxiety- I will only throw it up. I cannot cry about my eating habits, I will only get angered. If I consume the food I see right now, It will only come out as river From my lips. But if I don’t eat I will starve. I guess Hunger goes both ways. I could drink, however, Or down my pills. They only control the sane part of me. Rather, the part that can be controlled. But, they don’t know about the other side. The side that plots plans, Plans to do things I shouldn’t. The side that believes in the wrong things. Convinces me I am never worth it. I overdose, Hoping it will demolish that side. But sometimes, That’s not all it demolishes Which leads to sleepless nights. Where I only wake up earlier than before, Until sleep is an enemy. Sometimes I know I can’t do it So I lock myself up tight Only to stop breathing. I wake up with slightest of amnesia, And I always wish it would’ve stayed that way. Which takes me on the path to depression- My greatest fear. Dull mornings, No light comes through. The night is day- And it stays that way. Beauty stops existing. Hatred to the world and me is all. This is when throwing up is ok. I just wish my heart and soul would Resurface as well. Endless crying, Hatred. Anger. Sometimes I get happy- But it never is real. No one wants this- But it had to happen to someone, right? And it had to be me. At least, not everyone is like this. Not everyone is demoralized as me. Times like these, I Look forward to death. One less broken person in the world, Disordered and all.
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
Disordered
I cannot eat my anxiety- I will only throw it up. I cannot cry about my eating habits, I will only get angered. If I consume the food I see right now, It will only come out as river From my lips. But if I don’t eat I will starve. I guess Hunger goes both ways. I could drink, however, Or down my pills. They only control the sane part of me. Rather, the part that can be controlled. But, they don’t know about the other side. The side that plots plans, Plans to do things I shouldn’t. The side that believes in the wrong things. Convinces me I am never worth it. I overdose, Hoping it will demolish that side. But sometimes, That’s not all it demolishes Which leads to sleepless nights. Where I only wake up earlier than before, Until sleep is an enemy. Sometimes I know I can’t do it So I lock myself up tight Only to stop breathing. I wake up with slightest of amnesia, And I always wish it would’ve stayed that way. Which takes me on the path to depression- My greatest fear. Dull mornings, No light comes through. The night is day- And it stays that way. Beauty stops existing. Hatred to the world and me is all. This is when throwing up is ok. I just wish my heart and soul would Resurface as well. Endless crying, Hatred. Anger. Sometimes I get happy- But it never is real. No one wants this- But it had to happen to someone, right? And it had to be me. At least, not everyone is like this. Not everyone is demoralized as me. Times like these, I Look forward to death. One less broken person in the world, Disordered and all.
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56
I don't want to cry. But sometimes I do. I'm not a prayerful person. But sometimes I pray. Not that any of my prayers deserves to be answered. I've been driven to beg. Bartering. Ultimatums. I want I need Give me Do you ever feel so hopeless that it paralyzes you? All you can do is watch as fate demolishes your plans for the future. ******* all over your dreams. Tearing up your innocence, not even bothering to recycle the debris. Put childish things aside. Grow up and get a real job. Get married and start a family. You owe it to yourself. To everyone. Another birthday passes. Another debt to pay. Another year spent.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
buying time
I hope they name a hurricane after you, I really do. I hope it demolishes everything it touches.
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
Teacups Filled With Rain
I’m awake, Living the nightmares. Numb and emotionless. Colors are lost to me. The living anger, demolishes joy. A soulless shadow. The world and life wither away.
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC
Dark
With darkness comes death Light demolishes the dark Yet darkness still lives
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Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Darkness (Haiku)
My heart-rate is unreadable But for something I can't describe This is probably just me being an idiot Or just something I shouldn't advertise But it seems like we dance around The elephant in the god **** room Just making sure our skin doesn't tear When it touches under the sun or moon I just can't ******* tell right now If this is mutual or just in my head A mockery of my emotional distress Or signals that are correctly read I won't be able to focus on anything Besides my insides being torn apart Should I feel bad about these feelings? This situation demolishes my heart I'll tell you when you pinched a nerve Like when we talked that Thursday night But is it OK if I'm still totally confused? And only slightly filled with fright?
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Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
No Filter At Night Talks 3/11/16
You feel pain when he walks by, You feel lost when he looks your way, You break a little every glance. Don't give in. He preys on the weak, He demolishes hopes,dreams,faith and life. He takes your heart with a smile and leaves you crawling on the floor for awhile. After that empty morbid time he will come back. But you are still broken and he thinks it's fun. But you can't help but fall all over again. Don't give in. You give in a little and you fall yet again, You think you will never get up from this hole. He drags you down further and further every second. Don't give in. You don't need him. You don't need his fake love. You don't need his embrace. Let him go. Let that dream that he would change go. Walk away and never look back. He will come back without a doubt. But don't let him in. Don't let him bring you down. Don't give in.
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Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Don't give in.
She is the opposite of harmony—the queen of destruction. She is the bullet that hits every core. She is the scream in the most destructive and deadly pain. She is the hymn in every songs burning to be sung. She is the hurricane in the most peaceful places. She is the dragon that screams delicate architecture, she is the ******* that runs the world. Everyone talks about her. Everyone doesn't know how she manages to control everyone's demons. All they know, she always lies. All they know, she runs hectares of scars. No one knows she doesn't recognize everyone. No one knows she always hug pillows. Anyone tells her good bye. Anyone demolishes her crystal walls. But... Someone loved her deadly marks. Someone understood she is an art.
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
She 911
I heard a plaintive heave before the cleaving of the air, then of the flesh – a forceful splitting of a young citrus, then of the splintering – a crunch that froze the scorch of that afternoon. Finito! the sound of the fragile spine breaking into hundreds... or is it thousands? of pieces. And the debris, of the marrow and the dangling arteries – of chunks of the hypothalamus, a part of the left hemisphere – the tangential stains of blood on modern Golgotha – a cemented clearing deep within the woods parched and dried by the anger of that afternoon - which resembles a festive night: festooned with firecrackers, with showers of embers and fountains of fire, glow sticks of horror, And the lower part, the detachment: loose and limp placid and peaceful. A fresh sculpture of soft clay in red   plaid polo and punturong – both saved by the stain of gore, but not with the stain of nature on the flipside the habiliments are covered in dust – modern dust brought by cement and its slow deterioration of how friction demolishes it era by era tick by tock of the giant slothful clock - and as this same cement seeps all the fireworks vegetation thrives – and the fruit of man, and law, and capital teeth and eye dangles through thick sinewy vines. The land devour the sculpture carved by a single stroke. And then another heave is heard then the cleaving of the air, the almost splitting of the neck meat, the forceful pulling of a penchant edge then the cleaving of the air the splitting of a young tangerine, then the splintering of a spine, the spray of sainthood in scarlet, then the limping, the rolling, the creation of a mask. It was a masterpiece of music, visual aesthetics and natural arts. As the mark of each face was left in the humid winds of that afternoon.
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Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 6:42 AM UTC
Humanities
I heard a plaintive heave before the cleaving of the air, then of the flesh – a forceful splitting of a young citrus, then of the splintering – a crunch that froze the scorch of that afternoon. Finito! the sound of the fragile spine breaking into hundreds... or is it thousands? of pieces. And the debris, of the marrow and the dangling arteries – of chunks of the hypothalamus, a part of the left hemisphere – the tangential stains of blood on modern Golgotha – a cemented clearing deep within the woods parched and dried by the anger of that afternoon - which resembles a festive night: festooned with firecrackers, with showers of embers and fountains of fire, glow sticks of horror, And the lower part, the detachment: loose and limp placid and peaceful. A fresh sculpture of soft clay in red   plaid polo and punturong – both saved by the stain of gore, but not with the stain of nature on the flipside the habiliments are covered in dust – modern dust brought by cement and its slow deterioration of how friction demolishes it era by era tick by tock of the giant slothful clock - and as this same cement seeps all the fireworks vegetation thrives – and the fruit of man, and law, and capital teeth and eye dangles through thick sinewy vines. The land devour the sculpture carved by a single stroke. And then another heave is heard then the cleaving of the air, the almost splitting of the neck meat, the forceful pulling of a penchant edge then the cleaving of the air the splitting of a young tangerine, then the splintering of a spine, the spray of sainthood in scarlet, then the limping, the rolling, the creation of a mask. It was a masterpiece of music, visual aesthetics and natural arts. As the mark of each face was left in the humid winds of that afternoon.
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52
They can't destroy the memories but Future demolishes the museum!!
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May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
Lost Children (10w)
And your tenderness is unwrinkled , The boiling surface , A sip of sweetness , another slightly sour , The nuance of variance , Hits every particles , And you float , Like a boat , Not on the water but on the pond , Pond of perpendicular humane desire , It goes on , Endless in vow . Then you drool , Like the winter dew on the peak of a bent over green lash , The drop falls but never on the ground , Demolishes in air , It’s gone , disappeared . Now you swim each corners of the torrent , Like the tornado , contagious , And you destroy anything comes in your way , In different manners , The bitter the better , The sweeter the greater , The **** is the eater . © 18.1.18
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Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
Liqour of love (Papaya Juice)