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"demonstrates" poems
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... *that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows the when and why of differing cuddling styles... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows when to leave a man alone alone in his man-mourning time, distance needed, letting his ex-rage dissipate or watching his red and blue football redefine ignominy... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift, she heartily agrees and is reciprocity rewarded regularly with hunk alerts of "hey-check-him-out!" that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, a tigress in the bedroom she asking, try this, I'll love it, served with a desert demo of awkward afterward, his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who doesn't abhor partner silences, comforting they are, in their own ways, lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who lets the man roar, top of voice, when imprisoned in car,   his voice, un enfant terrible, performs with Creedence Clearwater a sing-a-long in traffic, asking "Have you ever seen the rain" while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E. a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, when it's pheromones  alternative mode day, he celebrates Carole King day, she demonstrates her cuddling abilities, par excellence, with kisses and tissues a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... a woman, plain confident in her abilities no matter the situational status, when confronted by less-than-crazy-impetuous, she smiling says "why not," when he proposes, a movie and dinner in a fav haunt? "plenty excellent enough" her answer, spoke in a rising voice full of unfeigned delight a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, accepting the unexpected airport embrace on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays with the aplomb of a well lived life's long term sustainability perspective when he kisses her hand for no reason, while driving 75 miles per hour, she only winces internally, the other hand vise-grasping the other door's handle, who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie, celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's duality of strength and tenderness a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when on second date he proposes a non-exclusive relationship, confident enough to high-five respond, and laugh about it, seven years on a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when she reads it, analyzing the oeuvre as "too **** personal and as usual too **** long"* that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities in everything... even a little occasional criticism
0
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... *that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows the when and why of differing cuddling styles... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows when to leave a man alone alone in his man-mourning time, distance needed, letting his ex-rage dissipate or watching his red and blue football redefine ignominy... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift, she heartily agrees and is reciprocity rewarded regularly with hunk alerts of "hey-check-him-out!" that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, a tigress in the bedroom she asking, try this, I'll love it, served with a desert demo of awkward afterward, his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who doesn't abhor partner silences, comforting they are, in their own ways, lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who lets the man roar, top of voice, when imprisoned in car,   his voice, un enfant terrible, performs with Creedence Clearwater a sing-a-long in traffic, asking "Have you ever seen the rain" while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E. a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, when it's pheromones  alternative mode day, he celebrates Carole King day, she demonstrates her cuddling abilities, par excellence, with kisses and tissues a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... a woman, plain confident in her abilities no matter the situational status, when confronted by less-than-crazy-impetuous, she smiling says "why not," when he proposes, a movie and dinner in a fav haunt? "plenty excellent enough" her answer, spoke in a rising voice full of unfeigned delight a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, accepting the unexpected airport embrace on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays with the aplomb of a well lived life's long term sustainability perspective when he kisses her hand for no reason, while driving 75 miles per hour, she only winces internally, the other hand vise-grasping the other door's handle, who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie, celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's duality of strength and tenderness a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when on second date he proposes a non-exclusive relationship, confident enough to high-five respond, and laugh about it, seven years on a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when she reads it, analyzing the oeuvre as "too **** personal and as usual too **** long"* that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities in everything... even a little occasional criticism
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84
A female tennis player might give An umpire a piece of her mind When she disagrees with him. Consequently, she is fined Or penalized in other ways. However, if the player's a male, He can spit, destroy his racket, Yell, and viciously assail The umpire at a tournament. He could even resort to calling The ump an "abortion," and little or nothing Happens to him. Now THAT'S appalling! A candid man might be considered "Direct" or "outspoken." Isn't that rich? But if you are an assertive women, You are basically called a ***** A man who loudly demonstrates At a Senate hearing in an angry fashion Could be considered "aggressive" or even Be called a man of "impetuous passion." A woman, however, who interrupts A Senate hearing with passion hears Herself being called "hysterical" when She's led away to Senators' sneers. Sexism? Discrimination? Inequality? Status quo? It certainly appears that way. The double standard has got to go! -by Bob B (9-11-18)
0
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
The Old Double Standard
Fantasizing Feeling Needing Something scarce is eating at my melancholy. As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood. I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips. My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine. Unalloyed ecstasy His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer. I beg to feel his breathing For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire. Slow motion when I fantasize. A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification. A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality. Rarity that comes as one. He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty. One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma. I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs. The definition of love is embraced through his actions. Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable. He makes me feel amity. He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk. I can sense him so close, yet when I open my eyes I’m alone. He is what every women searches for.
0
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:41 PM UTC
Sense
There is a man who loves me I didn't know him But still, he loves me I pushed him away from me But he's still here and he loves me I didn't even believe what he's saying But he encourages me and he loves me I mocked him and judged him But he looks at me with love for he does I didn't listen him and wandered off But he's still guiding me because he loves me I didn't talk to him and I ignored him But he's still waiting for me because he loves me I lied, I cursed, I got angry, I sinned Despite all that, he loves me still I turned my back against him But he still got my back because he loves me I'm selfish, hot-tempered, proud and stubborn But he still cares for me because he loves me I ignored him, ignored him and ignored him But he's always there for me because he loves me So I asked... *Who is this man who loves me? Who is this man who loves me inspite of and despite? Who is this man who loves me still?* And I got a reply... *He is the man who died for love The man who lived to die for you The man who died for his love for you.* Then he asked me back... Where else can you get a love like this? You aren't worthy of his love, but he still gave it to you. Isn't he worthy enough to be loved back? Won't you love him back? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... . . Romans 5:8 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. . . ....
0
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
He who loves me
Evening light is gentle, slow Caressing leaves, metal roofs, soil Plants, flowers, pavements and gates Clouds are the mothers - they shield us Lest the sun shines too much. Take a breath and look around; The sweet and tranquil garden will take it away. All colour blend in synchronised harmony; Blues and browns, pinks and whites Crossing into and over each other like oil paints, Warm, welcoming, beautiful. It is soothing - the sound of nothing That disrupts; razes; hates Disturbs; curbs quiet insight; One's imagination is the lone source of maximum sound That vibrates through the garden. My grandfather, my grandmother's brother, Smiles as though the sun shines through his teeth Dresses in a pale blue shirt Black shorts Both well-worn Ready to play some basketball. Oh, the joy, the fun The refreshment arising from this game in a courtyard In grandfather's garden Among young trees, leaves and other green growth. There stands a home by hand made Basketball stand, A concrete base with metal support hands Floppy strings of hoop To shoot the ball into. The garden has been bathed, it is fresh It is refreshed. Grandfather demonstrates, I listen and follow, To throw the ball into the hoop With precision and care; throw some force Into the air. The ball dances around the circle then drops to the concrete floor. We take turns As I throw and grandfather returns 9/10 of the time my aim's bad but the ball grandfather throws, I actually catch! (Or it will tumble on wet soil) Exciting, the thumping of rubber ball against ground; Keen eyes and agile hands and feet To catch the stray ball; With swift movements the ball flies! From sideways, afar and near, Into the hoop successfully, finally. Back into the house we go, As the sun leaves for home. The garden prepares for night; So do grandfather and I; Grandfather washes up; I talk to Grandmother in the garden; waiting for night, to fall fall fall, into infinite darkness - poignant memories
0
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
My Grandfather's Garden
Evening light is gentle, slow Caressing leaves, metal roofs, soil Plants, flowers, pavements and gates Clouds are the mothers - they shield us Lest the sun shines too much. Take a breath and look around; The sweet and tranquil garden will take it away. All colour blend in synchronised harmony; Blues and browns, pinks and whites Crossing into and over each other like oil paints, Warm, welcoming, beautiful. It is soothing - the sound of nothing That disrupts; razes; hates Disturbs; curbs quiet insight; One's imagination is the lone source of maximum sound That vibrates through the garden. My grandfather, my grandmother's brother, Smiles as though the sun shines through his teeth Dresses in a pale blue shirt Black shorts Both well-worn Ready to play some basketball. Oh, the joy, the fun The refreshment arising from this game in a courtyard In grandfather's garden Among young trees, leaves and other green growth. There stands a home by hand made Basketball stand, A concrete base with metal support hands Floppy strings of hoop To shoot the ball into. The garden has been bathed, it is fresh It is refreshed. Grandfather demonstrates, I listen and follow, To throw the ball into the hoop With precision and care; throw some force Into the air. The ball dances around the circle then drops to the concrete floor. We take turns As I throw and grandfather returns 9/10 of the time my aim's bad but the ball grandfather throws, I actually catch! (Or it will tumble on wet soil) Exciting, the thumping of rubber ball against ground; Keen eyes and agile hands and feet To catch the stray ball; With swift movements the ball flies! From sideways, afar and near, Into the hoop successfully, finally. Back into the house we go, As the sun leaves for home. The garden prepares for night; So do grandfather and I; Grandfather washes up; I talk to Grandmother in the garden; waiting for night, to fall fall fall, into infinite darkness - poignant memories
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66
They call it a 'Class War" They call it a "War of Liberation" whilst its just another instance of white oppression Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle because they are better than the ******* castle he made Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry and cock-blockers because  they can't get nice dates of their own like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here. If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****
0
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
They glorify sick sadistic oppression...
They call it a 'Class War" They call it a "War of Liberation" whilst its just another instance of white oppression Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle because they are better than the ******* castle he made Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry and cock-blockers because  they can't get nice dates of their own like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here. If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****
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37
Sadly, there are many intellectual postulations that are well meaning, but fatally flawed. One can only end up with an unholy mixture from… combining Man’s religious views with God’s Law. Beyond the constraints of the mental realm, the human template of thought cannot contain God. Yet after more than two thousand years of Church, lessons are still not learned; so it’s not odd… to see a skeptical world, groaning and grasping for rays of hope and light and salvation. God’s truth can stand on its own, not needing to be couched within feeble human traditions. The multitude of meaningless rhetoric will ultimately reveal the heart of a fool; this idea demonstrates that the Church really needs… Christ in its heart to reign and to rule. It’s shameful to see an inability to ‘walk in love’; unfortunately, it seems to appear everywhere today; stop ignoring the basic, Biblical truths, for… Christ declared Himself to be the Life, Truth and Way. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Prov 10:19; Eccl 5:1-7; Prov 20:15 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2011, All rights reserved.
0
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
Poem: Intellectual Postulations
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Afterlife Airlines. I’m your pilot, Captain Meta Physics. Please fasten your sleep belts as we are about to leave the body. Please direct your attention to your stewardess while she demonstrates safety procedures. In the event of a drastic reduction in karma, a mask will fall down from above you. Place it on and breathe deeply of pure love. Should those passengers who are clinically dead find themselves returned by a surgeon’s skill, the life raft under your seat will inflate with a new sense of purpose. After take off the stewardesses will serve milk and honey. For your entertainment, the movie is anything with Shirley Maclaine in it or there are seven channels of chi on the chakra-phones being dispensed soon. For those contemplating joining the Tantric Mile High club, please be considerate of your fellow passengers. We’re making good time because the breath of God is always behind us. Below us to the right is the Ocean of Ego and to our left some passengers may glimpse the chain of islands: Faith, Hope and Charity. We’ve been advised that it’s a little busy on The Other Side so we’ve been placed in a holding pattern on the astral plane. Passengers are reminded to retrieve all emotional baggage for security reasons and please help Customs by declaring all religious preferences. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re cleared for landing now. On behalf of the crew, I hope you enjoyed your transdimensional flight with Afterlife Airlines and we hope to see you aboard again soon. Please fasten your sleep belts, we’re coming in for reincarnation.
0
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
AFTERLIFE AIRLINES
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Afterlife Airlines. I’m your pilot, Captain Meta Physics. Please fasten your sleep belts as we are about to leave the body. Please direct your attention to your stewardess while she demonstrates safety procedures. In the event of a drastic reduction in karma, a mask will fall down from above you. Place it on and breathe deeply of pure love. Should those passengers who are clinically dead find themselves returned by a surgeon’s skill, the life raft under your seat will inflate with a new sense of purpose. After take off the stewardesses will serve milk and honey. For your entertainment, the movie is anything with Shirley Maclaine in it or there are seven channels of chi on the chakra-phones being dispensed soon. For those contemplating joining the Tantric Mile High club, please be considerate of your fellow passengers. We’re making good time because the breath of God is always behind us. Below us to the right is the Ocean of Ego and to our left some passengers may glimpse the chain of islands: Faith, Hope and Charity. We’ve been advised that it’s a little busy on The Other Side so we’ve been placed in a holding pattern on the astral plane. Passengers are reminded to retrieve all emotional baggage for security reasons and please help Customs by declaring all religious preferences. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re cleared for landing now. On behalf of the crew, I hope you enjoyed your transdimensional flight with Afterlife Airlines and we hope to see you aboard again soon. Please fasten your sleep belts, we’re coming in for reincarnation.
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38
I need a hug, but not a quick, lazy hug during which the touch feels like less of a comforting gesture, but more of an awkward happening with limp arms hanging like gigantic weights, pulling you into the floor. Not one where you aren't ever really sure if you should hang on for just a moment more, or if you should let go, and release into an uncomfortable silence that lasts until someone coughs hesitantly. The sound reverberating through the atomosphere, leaving a heavy draft of atypical embarrassment at the contact, waiting for someone else to bring up some random topic of discussion to break the icy and heavy silence. No. I need a real hug. The kind where someone who loves you see your pain even though you might not say anything. Reading the waters behind your smiling eyes, seeing the hidden hurt behind your irises, they grab you, perhaps by your slightly shacking shoulders, and pull you into their warm encasement. Holding you tightly and safely in their care. And the two of you just hang onto this affectionate moment of profound concern among brethren of a species The kind where time seems to stop in admiration of this subtle outpouring of unified allegiance before which the universe bows. I need the kind of hug that demonstrates a fierce loyalty. Devotion that knows should the object of such intense friendship fall into the pit, from whence none return unscathed in some way, they will throw down a rope a foothold a salvation, and they will pull that person from the depths of the darkness maybe even at the risk of falling in themselves. Yes. That is the kind of esoteric gesture that can be so impactful on those in pain, regardless of whether that pain be great or small. And should you find that you receive love like that, treasure it. And should you find that you give love like that, never forget how special and rare someone like you is.
0
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
Simple Gestures of Kindness
I need a hug, but not a quick, lazy hug during which the touch feels like less of a comforting gesture, but more of an awkward happening with limp arms hanging like gigantic weights, pulling you into the floor. Not one where you aren't ever really sure if you should hang on for just a moment more, or if you should let go, and release into an uncomfortable silence that lasts until someone coughs hesitantly. The sound reverberating through the atomosphere, leaving a heavy draft of atypical embarrassment at the contact, waiting for someone else to bring up some random topic of discussion to break the icy and heavy silence. No. I need a real hug. The kind where someone who loves you see your pain even though you might not say anything. Reading the waters behind your smiling eyes, seeing the hidden hurt behind your irises, they grab you, perhaps by your slightly shacking shoulders, and pull you into their warm encasement. Holding you tightly and safely in their care. And the two of you just hang onto this affectionate moment of profound concern among brethren of a species The kind where time seems to stop in admiration of this subtle outpouring of unified allegiance before which the universe bows. I need the kind of hug that demonstrates a fierce loyalty. Devotion that knows should the object of such intense friendship fall into the pit, from whence none return unscathed in some way, they will throw down a rope a foothold a salvation, and they will pull that person from the depths of the darkness maybe even at the risk of falling in themselves. Yes. That is the kind of esoteric gesture that can be so impactful on those in pain, regardless of whether that pain be great or small. And should you find that you receive love like that, treasure it. And should you find that you give love like that, never forget how special and rare someone like you is.
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50
അ**  Getting closer, to the just bloomed flower that bewitched him in an instant, the honey bee gets intoxicated by the web  of love, the sweet flower threw around, it felt more like a gentle caress to which his heart jumped! He  starts to do an ecstatic dance, never thought he could, till this sweet moment arrived, merely touching her soft petals he flies high as if to proclaim his pleasure buzzing a new tune he composed for this special moment, he circles the flower as if to adore her beauty form all possible angles making the moments of love so special for them both.. ആ** A butterfly enchanted by the flower,next has a dance of love so different, he would flit around and hover above adore her beauty in a more relaxed pace, he appreciates her silence to his soft declarations, his love songs have no words, on air written by the sprightly moves of his colorful wings, he knows she loves it and his dance tells it all. Like a kite on the waves of wind, he bobs on air gently descending,looking at her eyes. ഇ**  The tailor bird who never misses mother nature's children all,big and small, in their myriad ways of loving and living watches what's going on, without batting an eye lid, she has a doubt "Who among these   lovers are more intense?" she thinks aloud.** ഈ** The sonorous singer, Bulbul watching it all from the hanging branch of a Champak, flowered in riotous profusion answers: ഉ   "Both are poets, no doubt, of  distinction too, each of their deeds spontaneous demonstrates, with hearts full of love they wave poetry around us in ways ingenious paired with flowers. why compare them? Mother nature's brush dexterous paints each one of us with such loving care  and kindness to infuse celebratory spirit,to the world, never forget that,learn from the bees and butterflies."*
0
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
Nature paints her poetry around us
അ**  Getting closer, to the just bloomed flower that bewitched him in an instant, the honey bee gets intoxicated by the web  of love, the sweet flower threw around, it felt more like a gentle caress to which his heart jumped! He  starts to do an ecstatic dance, never thought he could, till this sweet moment arrived, merely touching her soft petals he flies high as if to proclaim his pleasure buzzing a new tune he composed for this special moment, he circles the flower as if to adore her beauty form all possible angles making the moments of love so special for them both.. ആ** A butterfly enchanted by the flower,next has a dance of love so different, he would flit around and hover above adore her beauty in a more relaxed pace, he appreciates her silence to his soft declarations, his love songs have no words, on air written by the sprightly moves of his colorful wings, he knows she loves it and his dance tells it all. Like a kite on the waves of wind, he bobs on air gently descending,looking at her eyes. ഇ**  The tailor bird who never misses mother nature's children all,big and small, in their myriad ways of loving and living watches what's going on, without batting an eye lid, she has a doubt "Who among these   lovers are more intense?" she thinks aloud.** ഈ** The sonorous singer, Bulbul watching it all from the hanging branch of a Champak, flowered in riotous profusion answers: ഉ   "Both are poets, no doubt, of  distinction too, each of their deeds spontaneous demonstrates, with hearts full of love they wave poetry around us in ways ingenious paired with flowers. why compare them? Mother nature's brush dexterous paints each one of us with such loving care  and kindness to infuse celebratory spirit,to the world, never forget that,learn from the bees and butterflies."*
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57
Blessed are the mild and long-suffering, for they alone shall inherit the earth; their happiness and contentment comes… from only understanding their Godly worth. Not worried about accusations against me- my Lord continues to defend His children. My Lord is the eternal and heavenly advocate and His Blood overcomes all affects of sin. Real meekness… is strength under control, while gentleness demonstrates self-constraint in the midst of trying, difficult circumstances and walking in genuine Love without complaint. I’m able to endure any, ungodly responses, when acknowledging my dependence on Christ. I will eventually receive the comfort of God, from standing on His promises… for my life. . . . Author Notes: Loosely based on: Matt 5:5; Phil 4:12-13 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
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Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
Poem: Strength Under Control
i shouldn’t expect to stand still while the untethered and unbothered wind demonstrates the power of the universe as it sends the rain sideways twisting dead and soon to be dead leaves in its playful vortices because my roots are brand new my limbs are still thin and delicate like soft green saplings for awhile i will bend and shake and fear the thunder until i dig down far enough in the dirt the bending and the shaking is part of the beauty if stay here long enough if i let the storm soak into me instead of letting myself run for cover i will become strong and steady like an old oak tree i will wear my growth rings like gold metals proudly parading the proof of what i have weathered —there will be too many to count and i will find myself smiling at the sky when the dark clouds roll in because i am still here still standing after all this time.
0
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
old oak tree
The habits of the righteous servant reflect a certain posture of pleasing The Master. Walking in Love is evident, when we recognize what the heart of Christ is truly after. Bearing fruit, living lives in desperate times, becomes much easier when we share our burdens. Let’s practice living harmoniously each day, before joining together in Heaven’s garden. Real Love, always requires acts of action; Even Christ washed the feet of the Apostles to demonstrate that all forms of compassion can vary from the smallest act to miracles. Societal importance is an artificial construct, that demonstrates a poor example of attitude. Christ’s example has been set eternally before us, shining before Man with the mindset of servitude. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Matt 20:25-26; Acts 10:38 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
0
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
Poem: The Ideal Servant
That Old Drug Checklist? Completed. No Shame. So get over it. (It's rather colloquial, however, revealings as well. This is what I said to a boy from driver's ed who wanted to be my boyfriend... So I tried to scare him off. Hahaha. Rationale a la 15-year-old): Maple: It's not exactly something I talk about, ever, because it just demonstrates my insanity. But, I want to try everything. Every substance, every drug. Justin: Um, why? Maple: Why not? Justin: Well, cause it’s bad. Maple: If you believe in good or bad, right or wrong. I don't know what I believe except that we're all robots of each other and nothing matters anyways. Justin: Hmm, that’s a different way of thinking about it. I think that curiosity isn't bad, just be careful. . . Maple: I don't know if I am, but, meh. Is there really any good reason to do anything? Justin: Umm, no, not really. It’s what you feel, not what others feel. Well. . . just be careful. Maple: Safety is a conspiracy. Justin: Why do you say that? Maple: Think about it. You can insure everything you own, walk on the right side of the road and follow strong Christian morals that give the illusion of safety, as if you’ll go to heaven if you’re good and hell if you’re bad. But, with one fire, one plane crash. . . well it's all gone. The entirety of you. And who even knows if there is that insured heaven anyways? Justin: Hmm, you know I think that the way you think is very interesting and mostly true, I mean, nothing is ever completely safe. You can't always be careful, but I also think that you should use this and try to live life to its fullest. Maple: Thank you. But what is living life to it's fullest? Everyone always says that, but what does it mean? Justin: Well, like you, I know that what you’re doing is unhealthy, but your not afraid to try different things. You experience more then anyone else, cause most people play it safe in their comfort zone. Maple: Exactly! Always judging but never trying. Society has made these things into taboos, but are they really? I know that getting addicted is a terrible idea, but everything in moderation. Why always sit on the sidelines making assumptions behind whispered hands and backs? Why not jump into the game? Justin: Yep, that’s right. You can't sit there say that’s bad or you should do this if you haven't done it yourself. Because if you haven't, you don't know what it’s like and you’re being hypocritical. . . . Maple: Um. . . Says the boy who just told me not to do drugs “cause it’s bad.”
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May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
**** and ****** Super Are Lame and I'm Happy I Know It
That Old Drug Checklist? Completed. No Shame. So get over it. (It's rather colloquial, however, revealings as well. This is what I said to a boy from driver's ed who wanted to be my boyfriend... So I tried to scare him off. Hahaha. Rationale a la 15-year-old): Maple: It's not exactly something I talk about, ever, because it just demonstrates my insanity. But, I want to try everything. Every substance, every drug. Justin: Um, why? Maple: Why not? Justin: Well, cause it’s bad. Maple: If you believe in good or bad, right or wrong. I don't know what I believe except that we're all robots of each other and nothing matters anyways. Justin: Hmm, that’s a different way of thinking about it. I think that curiosity isn't bad, just be careful. . . Maple: I don't know if I am, but, meh. Is there really any good reason to do anything? Justin: Umm, no, not really. It’s what you feel, not what others feel. Well. . . just be careful. Maple: Safety is a conspiracy. Justin: Why do you say that? Maple: Think about it. You can insure everything you own, walk on the right side of the road and follow strong Christian morals that give the illusion of safety, as if you’ll go to heaven if you’re good and hell if you’re bad. But, with one fire, one plane crash. . . well it's all gone. The entirety of you. And who even knows if there is that insured heaven anyways? Justin: Hmm, you know I think that the way you think is very interesting and mostly true, I mean, nothing is ever completely safe. You can't always be careful, but I also think that you should use this and try to live life to its fullest. Maple: Thank you. But what is living life to it's fullest? Everyone always says that, but what does it mean? Justin: Well, like you, I know that what you’re doing is unhealthy, but your not afraid to try different things. You experience more then anyone else, cause most people play it safe in their comfort zone. Maple: Exactly! Always judging but never trying. Society has made these things into taboos, but are they really? I know that getting addicted is a terrible idea, but everything in moderation. Why always sit on the sidelines making assumptions behind whispered hands and backs? Why not jump into the game? Justin: Yep, that’s right. You can't sit there say that’s bad or you should do this if you haven't done it yourself. Because if you haven't, you don't know what it’s like and you’re being hypocritical. . . . Maple: Um. . . Says the boy who just told me not to do drugs “cause it’s bad.”
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Who would wear such a thing? Who would be so despised? So pathetic to a jeering crowd? So utterly cursed? So utterly shamed? So utterly broken? A foolish one, you say? A liar? A crazy one? A sucker for punishment? A mythological man? How about this? A man who would lay down his life for a friend One who would take the place of others who really deserve what he got instead One who demonstrates that the works of weakness truly outweigh the brutality of the mighty One who is willing to connect the Divine to a suffering world I say that is One who would wear a crown of thorns
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
A Crown of Thorns
If you were a shrub, you would be a good shrub! Hello! SNIFF You smell different when you're awake! (Courtesy of Kollitiki) I hate a lot of people, but you are not one of them. I also hate ducks. WOW do I ever hate ducks. Hi there! Will you marry me? Wanna come over to my place? I'll show you all 89.3 of my cats! Hey babe, you wanna buy me a drink? Oh, no just water. I'm not allowed alcohol in this bar since the chainsaw incident last month with my exboyfriend.... Look babe, I know this sounds like one of those fake sobs stories made up to get you laid, but how about coming home with me? I have a terminal illness and it would just make my life complete if you would come home with me. Thank you so much baby, bless your soul. Oh, what illness? Ummm ...leprosy.... Tries to be seductive with scalp and elbows I LOVE YOUR FAAAACE!!!!!!! (Courtesy of the ever brilliant Spencer Craig) Your left eyebrow is **** I don't care about my dates having good hair or a lack of BO, so you and I should date. HIIIIIIIII I BAKED YOU A SALAD!!! Here is a fire extinguisher gorgeous ;) .......Sorry for lighting you on fire... Hey babe, did anyone ever tell you? Your eyes are as green as um those green sticky note thingies they sell at Walmart, and your hair is the color of frying pans. Hey cute thing, wanna hear a fun fact? It is physically impossible to lick your elbow. Well, I mean, for you. I meant to say it is physically impossible for YOU to lick your elbow, I could lick your elbow if I wanted, that would be physically possible. (demonstrates your ability to lick the "cute-thing's" elbow) HEY WAIT COME BACK! HEY! WANNA SEE MY SNOWMAN COLLECTION??????? I have your name tattooed on my **** wanna see? (Courtesy of The Girl Who Loved You) Did you fall from heaven? Cause you look a little banged up... (Courtesy of The Girl Who Loved You)
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Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
How not to flirt
If you were a shrub, you would be a good shrub! Hello! SNIFF You smell different when you're awake! (Courtesy of Kollitiki) I hate a lot of people, but you are not one of them. I also hate ducks. WOW do I ever hate ducks. Hi there! Will you marry me? Wanna come over to my place? I'll show you all 89.3 of my cats! Hey babe, you wanna buy me a drink? Oh, no just water. I'm not allowed alcohol in this bar since the chainsaw incident last month with my exboyfriend.... Look babe, I know this sounds like one of those fake sobs stories made up to get you laid, but how about coming home with me? I have a terminal illness and it would just make my life complete if you would come home with me. Thank you so much baby, bless your soul. Oh, what illness? Ummm ...leprosy.... Tries to be seductive with scalp and elbows I LOVE YOUR FAAAACE!!!!!!! (Courtesy of the ever brilliant Spencer Craig) Your left eyebrow is **** I don't care about my dates having good hair or a lack of BO, so you and I should date. HIIIIIIIII I BAKED YOU A SALAD!!! Here is a fire extinguisher gorgeous ;) .......Sorry for lighting you on fire... Hey babe, did anyone ever tell you? Your eyes are as green as um those green sticky note thingies they sell at Walmart, and your hair is the color of frying pans. Hey cute thing, wanna hear a fun fact? It is physically impossible to lick your elbow. Well, I mean, for you. I meant to say it is physically impossible for YOU to lick your elbow, I could lick your elbow if I wanted, that would be physically possible. (demonstrates your ability to lick the "cute-thing's" elbow) HEY WAIT COME BACK! HEY! WANNA SEE MY SNOWMAN COLLECTION??????? I have your name tattooed on my **** wanna see? (Courtesy of The Girl Who Loved You) Did you fall from heaven? Cause you look a little banged up... (Courtesy of The Girl Who Loved You)
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..... Not an interesting metaphor To Keep the brain on Or just showing day dreams Even an unnecessary composed poetry Made to be happy for the king and queen Decorated with false songs of a garland victory Just defile your voice Or Just a lie of fabricated cry Acting as the heavy down eyes Just showing forged mercy to love Even a painting of an outward woman While stupid men became tickle with a synthetic beauty Then If composed a true poetry However, So many illustrative metaphors which have a form of sacred truth Perched the purple nature into you Knowing Spring with the aromas of mango buds Saying the real life Demonstrates the truth of death with death Like inventions of science Rendering with expressions and feelings Owing water to thirsty men Explain the friction between light and darkness Dragging the stone of truth Thousands of music grant the intangible beauty of life Love became harmonious And the dreams are to raise thousand colors of love Life flows like spring water Of course a poem calls an eternal love There a hidden beauty craving all time And an upstream pouring the pure love ............ @musfiq us shaleheen
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Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
If composed a true poetry
Despite multiple accusations Of ****** impropriety, Trump still demonstrates A false display of piety. He knows his loyal fans out there Would never, ever truly deceive him. He denies whatever he wants And they will all believe him. Justice Brett Kavanaugh Aspires for both fame and glory. Somehow he got people to Give credence to his manicured story. Following Trump's slick advice, He thought, "Hey, why not try it? Whatever they accuse me of, I will out-and-out deny it." Putin said he hadn't meddled In our twenty sixteen elections. Although we know that Internet trolls Were following his cunning directions. Putin merely had to say, "Mr. Trump, I did not do it." That is all that Trump needed To say to the world, "You see: I knew it." Trump asked the Saudi king If he had had a journalist killed In Istanbul. That is where Jamal Khashoggi's blood had been spilled. The king and prince denied it. Trump, Satisfied, said, "You see: The king said they didn't do it. His denial's enough for me." Just deny whatever you've done. That's the message we are getting. Having to pay consequences Can stifle your plans and be upsetting. Just deny it, and you will have All of your fans believing your tale. Turn them all against the victim To save your *** and stay out of jail. -by Bob B (10-16-18)
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Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
Just Deny It!
Sometimes God can Demonstrate Redemption We walk Through this life With our hearts Hidden Turning away From the light But through everything God demonstrates his redemption everyday He wants us To return to him Being redeemed Living our lives Becoming white Washing away Everything that was ***** Being redeemed By God's glow By God's love By God's truth We can demonstrate Redemption In our own lives If we are willing To accept it By God This is an adopted metaphor
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Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC
Demonstrate Redemption
By: Cedric McClester Uncle Ben Ain’t gonna win But white folks continue To humor him He’s now ahead In all the polls Like others before him Who’ve sold their souls Uncle Ben Had a violent past He’d have us believe That he’s cured at last But the media said Not so fast No one remembers him As a **** alas Uncle Ben Was good with his hands And could do all the things That intricate surgery demands But the dark side That he's tried to project No one can remember And so he's suspect Uncle Ben As a matter of fact Hasn't a rabbit's *** idea How to reach fellow blacks Let me give him a hint Not with a rap that is wack Because all that demonstrates Is that he lacks tact Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
UNCLE BEN AIN'T GONNA WIN
Such joy a day can bring to hearts of men, The trees bedecked, in finest autumn hue; A throng of merriment upon the heath, The glistened lilac, wrought in morning dew. The drummer boys, a-beating on their drums, Old peddlers pushing carts, piled high with wares; Beggars, worn and haggard, as their clothes, And women, in their finest, catching stares. The roaring cheers as horse parades go by, Delivering up the bounty of the feast; The VIPs a-riding in fine style, Their open carriage, drawn behind the beast. As one by one, they climb above the crowd, Their speeches cheered, with jeers and playful boos; Then swiftly swinging, onwards with their tour, The crowds go jostling, chasing better views. The butcher greets the VIPs with glee, And demonstrates his mastery of meat; With sharpened knives, a-gleaming in the sun, His chopping rhythym keeps a steady beat. As shadows lengthen, slowly crowds disperse, With pondrous looks, a day to e'er remember; And every year, its carnival once more, Lest we forget, the fifth day of November.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
Carnival Day Memoirs
Foolishness of Jehovah exceeds the wisdom of Mankind; torture by crucifixion was to serve as a deterrent to stop all forms of crime. Inhumane treatment demonstrates insatiable blood thirst in a vain attempt to bring out the best character of man by placing World's justice system first. However, death of the Innocent Lamb, a perfect sacrifice God did decree to bridge the gap of sin using Man's worst punishment in a twist of spiritual irony.
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Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
Poem: Spiritual Irony
Most fail to understand the spiritual secret, regarding the true power of the human tongue. Proper and improper usage of its strength, allows one to create consequences, that are far flung. Consider the idea of words as ‘containers’, housing both creative and destructive powers. For even God is bound (Scripturally) by His Word. Learn to alter your speech, starting this very hour. Although you’re free to choose what is spoken, allow your lips to be completely free of guile; be disciplined and utter Biblical truths regularly to avoid Satan’s ageless traps of worrisome trials. The Godly principle of ‘sowing and reaping’, demonstrates that our words have responsibility attached; the unleashing of power may be initially unseen, but either acts of good or evil have been dispatched. Will you decide to edify and exhort souls today or unwittingly deflate the spirit of others? Can you be slow to speak and quick to listen? Will you help or harm… your sisters and brothers? Don’t let unnecessary, careless words fall onto the ground; speak with kindness, thoughts, that are Scripturally sound. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Jam 1:26; 1 Pet 3:10; John 10:10; Phil 4:6-7; Prov 15:23 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1388058560&sr;=1-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Poem: Spiritual Secret (Power of Words)
Confusing messages of misadventured youths "The best mistake ever made" to her A carefully played plan to another her Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty. A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree And in turn took from that tree its very leaves, But only through inquistiveness, No malice, despite the lies. Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought. Renegaded, so rebelled, Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance. Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes. Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much. First love, LOOK LOVE! Next love, **** LOVE! **** love hard in the *** **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass **** FOREVER! Stop. Breathe. Explore. Open your mind and look inside. Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you, Be You! Try to understand you! Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in. Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'. Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families, Lest we forget the lies, Ducking, Diving, More ******* Skiving, Writhing, Without Guilt, Much to everyone else's dismay! He loves you, they'll say But it didn't work out that way. That one, he wasn't strong And when things went wrong, he'd hit a **** And I'd disappear with the smoke A nice bloke, just not for me. And so, love number three A write, a poet, Inner turmoil, didn't show it. Left home and ran but this one he took my hand, And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed. Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt. And that inner-turmoil? I think it came out. The story doesn't end there, But right now that's all I'm willing to share!
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Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:33 AM UTC
Work in Progress
Confusing messages of misadventured youths "The best mistake ever made" to her A carefully played plan to another her Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty. A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree And in turn took from that tree its very leaves, But only through inquistiveness, No malice, despite the lies. Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought. Renegaded, so rebelled, Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance. Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes. Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much. First love, LOOK LOVE! Next love, **** LOVE! **** love hard in the *** **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass **** FOREVER! Stop. Breathe. Explore. Open your mind and look inside. Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you, Be You! Try to understand you! Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in. Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'. Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families, Lest we forget the lies, Ducking, Diving, More ******* Skiving, Writhing, Without Guilt, Much to everyone else's dismay! He loves you, they'll say But it didn't work out that way. That one, he wasn't strong And when things went wrong, he'd hit a **** And I'd disappear with the smoke A nice bloke, just not for me. And so, love number three A write, a poet, Inner turmoil, didn't show it. Left home and ran but this one he took my hand, And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed. Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt. And that inner-turmoil? I think it came out. The story doesn't end there, But right now that's all I'm willing to share!
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