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"deniable" poems
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, exposure is not vulnerability---it's power:] a choice made once upon a dusk the crack of dawn made no return a back it rust deniable liquor down the throat a burn upon the disgust my stomach ached a churn hideous is it you stupid arrogant selfish pry or was it way too much of a pure ecstasy upon their eyes??? things the raven will never feel warmth existing jealousy always a hunter in the thick air printing violins or that of cellos or the whatever veins named pianos that ought to break regret down my spine lonely hailed -----ravenfeels
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Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 4:28 PM UTC
Raven Will Never Feel
I could drown myself in cups of coffee, in nicotine, old books, and whiskey. But that won't make me crave you any less. I could immerse myself in the deepest of enthralling literature, poems, a sea of colloquy, Waves, strangling the current of my mind. But you'd still be the resonant word. I could listen to the sweetest of voices on repeat, golden like honey, sticky, But my ears would only ever truly answer to yours. Serpents tend to bite their own tails, a mythological and alchemic symbol of the cyclic nature of the universe: creation out of destruction. But I'm not breaking my heart, loving you. Swollen, yearning, daydreamed astray, gathered fast by night. Curiosity deniable no more, innocence lost, hands wandered exploratory below. Clambering desperate over themselves, those hands fell over folds of warmed flesh, over forgotten nooks and unfound crevasses, over trembling thighs and aching calves. Astounded by the vast array of fresh delicacies, of unencountered sensations and deepest pleasures, she stood by loyal as those hands swiftly accustomed themselves to pursuing true ecstasy. What divine rapture. What soaring heights of pleasure to ascend to. And what a delicious revelation to encounter such unimaginable ecstasy. That twelfth year become a fourteenth, a fifteenth, a sixteenth. And with the passing of each came a series of ever more adventurous trysts, the sorts of which Cousteau, Armstrong, and even Columbus could all be truly proud of. Depths sounded, crevasses plundered, self’s nectars tasted and devoured, the pleasures of the flesh went unearthed. Elaborate constructions lovingly shaped, waxed and honed, years of heady experimentation, trial and errors, fantasy and dreaming, all in the pursuit of even harder, better, faster, stronger ******* Perhaps it was that, or was it more a case of welcomed companionship? Ambidextrous frustration? A carnal appetite, most terrifying in its magnitude? Isn’t it time then, you tried a little tenderness? Be good to you.
0
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
Columbus
I could drown myself in cups of coffee, in nicotine, old books, and whiskey. But that won't make me crave you any less. I could immerse myself in the deepest of enthralling literature, poems, a sea of colloquy, Waves, strangling the current of my mind. But you'd still be the resonant word. I could listen to the sweetest of voices on repeat, golden like honey, sticky, But my ears would only ever truly answer to yours. Serpents tend to bite their own tails, a mythological and alchemic symbol of the cyclic nature of the universe: creation out of destruction. But I'm not breaking my heart, loving you. Swollen, yearning, daydreamed astray, gathered fast by night. Curiosity deniable no more, innocence lost, hands wandered exploratory below. Clambering desperate over themselves, those hands fell over folds of warmed flesh, over forgotten nooks and unfound crevasses, over trembling thighs and aching calves. Astounded by the vast array of fresh delicacies, of unencountered sensations and deepest pleasures, she stood by loyal as those hands swiftly accustomed themselves to pursuing true ecstasy. What divine rapture. What soaring heights of pleasure to ascend to. And what a delicious revelation to encounter such unimaginable ecstasy. That twelfth year become a fourteenth, a fifteenth, a sixteenth. And with the passing of each came a series of ever more adventurous trysts, the sorts of which Cousteau, Armstrong, and even Columbus could all be truly proud of. Depths sounded, crevasses plundered, self’s nectars tasted and devoured, the pleasures of the flesh went unearthed. Elaborate constructions lovingly shaped, waxed and honed, years of heady experimentation, trial and errors, fantasy and dreaming, all in the pursuit of even harder, better, faster, stronger ******* Perhaps it was that, or was it more a case of welcomed companionship? Ambidextrous frustration? A carnal appetite, most terrifying in its magnitude? Isn’t it time then, you tried a little tenderness? Be good to you.
Continue reading...
20
dainty dashing deep delectable ---- delicate decisive dear devoted ---- dreaming darling dauntless deniable ---- dedicated diehard
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Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
Undeniably Falling
morning light warms my face through patches of bright blue cerulean orphans’ tears drizzle and drop the sky’s condolences upon my windshield the musty smell of wet asphalt rises from the streets it’s raining on a sunny day the devil is beating his wife his father hurt his mother beat her ****** with his hands he took care of her after "dad" left even took up studies on abused women and championed their cause but broken down, tired men often fall back on ingrained memories push came to shove came to hit he couldn’t break violence’s cycle his father taught him well they vow to love and honor these duplicitous sons of Janus but things happen plans don’t work out shortfalls and failures loose cowardice and bullying frustrations are acted out on loved ones promises forgotten knots untied secrets have a way of coming to light frazzled nerves and shame are palpable black eyes and contusions speak serious injuries become a matter of record written in hospital and police files etched on the walls in the vaults of heaven deeds done in darkness are no longer deniable and the face he ended up hurting is his own
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May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 11:50 PM UTC
His Own Worst Enemy
musing on pondering, cogitating on ruminating, postulating on speculating, considering multiple theories, deeming the discrepancies deniable positing the petty presumptions, theorizing multiple condsiderations, apraising the mediations, digesting the deliberations, allowing for freefall meditation, envisioning the expectations, presuming the pontifications, anticipating the asumptions, comprehending the conclusion, accrediting the rationalizations, concluding the comprehesion, spinning synaptic wheels, hypothesizing the conjecture, recollecting of the reminiscence, adumbrating the prognostigcation, concocting of the subliminate, masticating on the cereberal machinations, of the ocillations, in the agitatation, apparent, in an insomniac's maniacal brain, reckoning not, on the simple summation, of the night's wayward, mental arbitratration, there is... just too much time, to think.... and far too little time to write....
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
snap of the synapse
Oh, how I wish my tears would steer clear of the fear that lives here. I am tired of the hate that is inspired by the spiral of bad faith actors working in accord with each other to enhance the discord that smothers compassion. I am exhausted from passing my passion from within to my pen, from my mind to my computer and pasting pieces of poetry on social media sites that profit from greed and destruction in the form of views and ads. It all feels bad, and I would be glad to grab a long nap and never have to rise and see the violent spree of soldiers killing civilians, while the state claims that these children’s suffering is justifiable, that these horrors are deniable, that these lies are viable, going viral, and capable of making some lives less valuable.
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Jul 25, 2021
Jul 25, 2021 at 6:35 AM UTC
Untitled 731
Until you have lived a blinded life; Mistaking the voices of others as your own. Until you have been shackled by chains of hesitation; Unable to liberate yourself because you do not know of your own captivity. Until you have become numb to the world around you; Where pain becomes necessary only because it affirms your already deniable existence. Until you and I can come to the realization that all we ever wanted was to understand. Until you allow yourself to be consumed by the silence; finding comfort in emptiness Until you lie in the dark for hours, questioning why you are still awake. You will never know how it feels. To be alone.
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Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
Until
By Arcassin Burnham Purpose is a deniable virtue, being lost in this world is a given, love is a test or fantasy that could be explored even when sinning, to be pleased and to satisfy your long awaited needs, I surround my myself with family, That is all I need, I find it hard in life through everything I went through sending More difficult obstacles to myself instead of receiving them Like normal human beings when it's quite easy to make enemies, I could never be what I want unless I change it, I could never see a new day if just put aside my hatred For thinking religion had anything to do with it, Your a master mind aren't you! Just be cool with it.
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Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
Either I Could Be
I started writing myself little notes and some long letters around the time the continents began to shift. All I asked was for her to spell it. I knew it would either change her life forever or scare her into believing it wasn't true. How much longer can the lies rule when the truth of things is nolonger deniable. If there is no space and we are all there is why not open the gates and let us all live free. I'll be the criminal who gave up all that lays beyond the ice. A Shangrala where evil men have made the rules and our missing children are sent like cattle for the leaders to enjoy. If I didn't stick to the Drink induced Poetry or the simple short stories talking about Love and Drugs. I knew that they would eventually come for me. My Allies be the pistol, the lighter,the mirror,the tin,the bottle of ***** and the broken girl who slept like a corpse curled up on the love seat. I left the girl who left so long ago a note. I started it with "I love you"and ended it with " If they ever tell you I've gone mad know that I haven't. I just got tired of fighting the lies and only dreaming of the truth..."
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
The Owl ,The Secret And All They Do To Keep It
Let it go let it shake earth quake founded over imaginary hate I'm still near you're living in fear you push, I pull, we mirror you wear a face like I can't see beyond it I'll stand here all day if there's something willing to give I can't dig through asphalt, not sure if I can handle the quick sand underneath Scrapes and wounds as I swirl down into your spell I just want to breathe again I just want the undeniable to shift to what once was deniable
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Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
There's nothing relevant in this post
musing on pondering, cogitating on ruminating, postulating on speculating, considering multiple theories, deeming the discrepancies deniable positing the petty presumptions, theorizing multiple condsiderations, apraising the mediations, digesting the deliberation, allowing for freefall meditation, envisioning the expectations, presuming the pontifications, anticipating the asumptions, comprehending the conclusion, accrediting the rationalizations, concluding the comprehesion, spinning synaptic wheels, hypothesizing the conjecture, recollecting of the reminiscence, adumbrating the prognostigcation, concocting of the subliminate, masticating on the cereberal machinations, of the ocillations, in the agitatation, apparent in insomniac's maniacal brain, reckoning not, on the simple summation, of the night's wayward, mental arbitratration, i have way too much time to think...
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
snap of the synapse
Thank you... for if you knew me then, back when I was frail of will silence my deniable partner, my youth's imaginary friend mute - back when I let others decide for me what was best if not for them Then, for everyone else, a circle **** of leaches & nosforatu if only you had seen how I avoided my life like sunlight taking the quickest way around, no risks rather than witness each cacophony of sight and sounds loudly how a soul awakens heart hushing night... with you, if not for you, how I dove into black fires of E, K, & G wishing my days would leave me dancing and attacking each fiberous inch of my energy you would understand me now - that I am thanking you... but luckily, you stand in my presence my spring / of my winters clouded often cold and uncaring undecidedly blaring at me You have broken the spell for now I have a story a life I can script in Fairy Tales because of you, I am as open as branches and beaches on Summer Days sunlit happy endings and waterfalls or of paradise to wash the grime away I am newly fresh born to seek my dreams and find golden blooms of rich bouquets days so full of quenching my future's thirst I have learned to drink love again for that, I thank you... Now it is yours to nurture only feed it truth...
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Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC
A Thank You Poem ('09)
Dangerous damage uncontrolled. Cloaked invisible & unwhole. Hours wasted turned into days. Strength to protect. Regrets confidence can't let. Degraded & hated. Sadistic & overrated. Real fragile feeling. Broken shattered lives still healing. Summoned evil & unearthed a demon. Void of sense, logic, & reason. Damaged & broken. It was my throat the devil man was choking. My words are true of that I am never joking. A delicate & fragile child. Abuse suffered & never recovered. Cursed never to marry a significant other. No one hears my screams. No one can cleanse my body clean. To return what was taken & make it pure. To shield & create & patent it's cure. To make me as I am & were. Waiting to get paid so we can be fed. No to care. It is not fair. That for me no one is out there.
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
The Deniable Truth
Words are eagerly voiced and artistically engraved Words express boldly and conceal silently Words awaken a dream and define reality Words engage delightfully and reject painfully Words inspire love and rage war Words seal mysteries and expose secrets Words soothe compassionately and fight bitterly Words brighten the miserable and darken the cheer Words sing joyfully and cry desperately Words declare deep feelings and proclaim harsh judgement Words uplift the hopeless and scar memories Words restore the broken and tear the fragile Words mold the mind and dictate the outlook The power of words is deniable What words do you choose to live by?
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Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
The Power of Words
Tastefully decrepit Oozing canvas oil Shows the very pain he’s in The anguish and the toil A dangerous disaster The outside caving in An unbearable demeanor Contorting chest to chin A devastated skeleton Of a man who’s done his share Undeniably deniable And completely in despair
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Oct 22, 2021
Oct 22, 2021 at 10:34 AM UTC
Tastefully Decrepit
ludicrous and lime she's bought my wine then usher on the farm or circus daemon was house carrying a whim to heart where climes are thought that fighting down the hatch where rumors are frothy in those diamonds caught wish only tout cookie once thunder crash has melted speed but any counters that claim violence is deniable here and viable to an Osborne scene but wading in traffic as a country lane shade its spree and what lies in air was a roadside fair in bloom on Sunday afternoons in Tamaqua boon pillared spoon
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Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC
truest incline
20 Cents The guy gave the war concern 20 cents This was enough to buy ten bullets Which would **** ten enemy soldiers If fired accurately by a good soldier He'd give more if he could afford it But he was jobless and skint 20 cents was all he could afford Bread and coffee cost money Even if cheaper thru the VA His benefits were little not enough So he just gave 20 cents To the war collection team When they knocked on his door It brought back memories Vietnam and Central America Plus other deniable places Still alive in his head He didn't like Russians So 20 cents was fine The cost of ten bullets For a competent soldier He prayed they wouldn't miss Once he was a soldier With many good kills All of them Russians...
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Mar 20, 2022
Mar 20, 2022 at 5:30 PM UTC
20 Cents
The silent strike of a summer breeze escapes the night of corrupt signage Supine modes of concrete repose as men of ages corrupt and distract Upon the mist of the morning dew where a new day contrasts another and the meaning to all of this uncovers On blocks of melodies, locks of promises as memory mocks and knocks maximises Life takes turn on the unseen bends and the obstacles become comforts like dreams so attainable but deniable like a river stream with a peaceful flow cleared of storms and eventful rage holding on the beauty of this life where skies light and sparkle existence and the true love within sing melodies filled with laughter and abundance of the unseen mystery in the human form (Excited and inspired by existence, self love and all the beauty that humanity shines through)
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Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 3:12 AM UTC
Life takes a turn
What did you say? Come here you, pray I tell you the truth With deniable proof That you are just fine Because you are all mine Those bites that you feel Are all that is real Let me tell you There are but a few Rules in the end The kind that I send At the end of a rod There is only God I know you will see What it is to be me With unlimited love And hands from above Just do what I say And together we'll pray.
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
The Line
*Inclined to stay in that imaginary pause, Where you're being pulled into inertia's triangle, The image of a sunset front and center To a cloaked morning, where existence is deniable. Suffocated by the storm of dust, That the departing horses have left in their wake, Behind the weight of two closed lids, The silence is a marathon that inner voices partake. And the world is but a whisper, so far away, Trespassing to reality's sullen grounds is forbidden, The difference in pressure makes my legs stateless, Too tired of treading the same roads, eager to stay hidden.* •●•
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Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
Titling Is Optional
I’m just going on Through life without you Because we are done What else can I do I just would like comfort At a time like this They’ll just have give some effort Friendship is what I truly miss Who is reliable Or even trustworthy Most i know are deniable I’m shown no mercy I’m begging right now Please help me
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Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
I need help
Search distaste. Unwanted feeling replaced. Download spiraling playing of my inner self quickly. disputant in my freedom and dignity destroying and decaying came all that's worth saving. relinquishing dis-soothing this uncontrolled desire? Displeasing my soul with infected virus. Controlling my thoughts into deviant acts. Not heard normal, form factor total 180. Complexion secrets possessed. I'm trying not to get mind ****** will it? His behavior is hidden away with no known cure attainable just yet. destroying self will out of its power restricted movement, deniable motives, take place for all that is now defaulted elsewhere in the hands of the anonymous intruder
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May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
PÛPPÊŢÊÊR
ever so often something will filter through my mind sweet and colorful twisted and curved like ribbon candy being formed as my mind slides back the way you will when walking up the downslide side of an escalator then you stop just before you reach the top what makes it so hard to step across always turning out to be that backward slide is there something to fear that you feel exists will not simply disappear by it being denied it's existence yet your resistance to its insistence that you must go the distance is keeping it alive but there is always something so serene about that backward slide that feels like being suspended somewhere between life and a dream caught in a stream of consciousness. ....so go go go go go along. along along life has so few things to do to bring that ribbon candy...back to production so to watch as it is taking form soft and warm sliding through stopping and starting folding and molding itself into what it will soon be a hardened memory so maybe thats why why you always stop before that step across at the very top as if you ever could have kept those memories pliable or truth deniable okay okay I hear you loud and clear face my fear take the ride all the way to the top and step across and be grateful that you always considered it as an escalator. and not an elevator top floor watch your step!
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Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 5:23 AM UTC
ever so often