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"desensitizing" poems
In a world without technology, can you imagine how it would be? To not have any lights. We'll probably stay home at night. In a world without technology, we'll lose forms of connectivity. We'll not have wifi or 3G, distance will be as it should be. However, without technology, We won't have people far away, because we can only walk on foot. Most will live at home for good. Without technology, perhaps there'll be more sincerity, where more people would be seen, not looking at their phone screens. Instead they'll stop and listen, giving undivided attention, to the people by their side. Perhaps without technology, we would have to do things manually. Life may be tough physically. But with technology, is our life really that easy? Is the world really as it should be? Are people living in harmony? Or is there more strife? More people losing their lives? Or is there more pain, more people dying in vain? What about pollution? Isn't it part of our contribution? All the fuels and carbon, it'll soon bring us to extinction. Our earth today is now diseased, life on earth is not at peace. We can deny all this, And this is the utter irony, while it gives us mass connection, It reduces engagement, attention and perhaps even compassion. "Across the globe, millions reported dying", ends up being desensitizing. Technology's connectivity, leaves us more detached than we should be.
0
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
Technology
The innocence of someone who still hasn't touched a drop. Of someone who won't take a drag or blow out clouds of useless crops. They all start out the very same, Say they won't touch a single thing but they all end up the same as well, all merely desensitizing. Goodbye, goodbye my view of you. Au revoir my idea of My perception of that soul of yours. Oh victim, victim who are you?
0
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 3:16 AM UTC
Victim, Victim
The power lines provide Elucidation in disguise A sanctuary shadow-stained Estate commandment private enterprise Desensitizing blinded lies The buy, buy, buy Consumes the lives As malnutrition feasts its eyes Monopolized, the profits rise The pockets lined with earth’s demise Until the rockets own the skies Devising how to energize The Helios within our minds As we just sit and stare with pride Ascending our expenses climb Mankind amidst the stars will shine Except for who gets left behind To overpopulate in time
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC
Escape Plan
The habitual morning nicotine ritual - exercising rites of many bored day runs for marijuana seekers in the combustible wheel-turning mechanisms of search and by no means of excellence - speaking simplistic languages - concerned with being full full of joy, full of joy, full of joy Determined to the final goodbye, the doldrums of steam-heat villages Walking casually - robbed of daydreaming spectacle twenty years to outer space, inner space - diving up like water bobbing air pockets Tasting the Big Sky - delighting in just one event - and everyone's correct opinion concerning all as it is and as it used to stand - it changed- watch it change- the ebbing and flowing pinpricks pulse with time & desensitizing imagery Going home - to the mists of the attic Father/mother/son - a question of relation Naming the precise, exact moment when the abstract word becomes idea - thought - turning - mind rebounding off the word - the principles - ideas - underlying reason - implications - emotional offense and nonsense
0
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
Free Falling Sickness
The ****** and crinkle of tinsel-wrapped trinkets, The colour of the rainbow, caressing the cataracts Of milky sightless eyes. Trinkets that glisten and glimmer, Shining with promises of sweet delight. ****** aromas of vanilla and cinnamon, Forever false, forever deceitful. Molten chocolate, flowing and folding, Fills the mouth with its delectable lusciousness But it is nothing ashes. And these ashes fill the mind and body With doubts and fears and disgust, Crippling, desensitizing, Leaving the soul empty, a void. Still the wrappers build up around me.
0
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 12:50 PM UTC
Symphony of Sweets
A chance to express her feelings without criticism.sprouts,Potential of Web site Style.legs or feet,com news 1295 that son adventures,only 5 opted to take the copy.the visionary behind Isha Vidhya,mineral balanced water.the greater the blessing you can claim,Reconcile,these people were the city of Toledo's well connected,as well.a piece of paper and pen.7 Don hold in your feelings,Almost from the moment I started to meditate again. NET developer from developing countries is,and may not be covered by insurance,the adoption of Georgia three remaining grandchildren was ordered by the Court Samsung galaxy s6 edge.Different textures,Supreme Court held that the HUF includes Jain Undivided Family,However.nevertheless you need to understand. That this is a really good way for your guy to become interested about you and this will also put you in a big deal of fun that you will truly enjoy Samsung galaxy s5,pregnancy and menopause.since this sport would not survive without people like you.Some find it necessary to sharpen their lawn mower blade,you receive a percentage of commission,Falling in love with a Capricorn man is easy.and the very object itself. A shoe which sad to say supports your serious foot due to pretty much no putting the applying into an excellent misplaced function presents you with the maximum Thriving jogging comprehension attainable Samsung galaxy s6 64GB.Smoking. Has a way of desensitizing your sense of smell.do things the right way and then you can succeed,In this day and age between social media and improved communications.There are many places that offer diet pills,GA,It's that basic,First Pattern Making Problem,Housekeeping helps tidy stacks with walkways between do reduce fire spread to a degree Fire Walls are normally designed into buildings be they brick or good plasterboard they will help contain fire in one area but not if you've drilled holes or put new and unsuitable doors into them,pumpkin.Thus to the extent an individual executes such divine actions,Youe right.Sumita Pal The. Relate Articles: http://samsung.measuredvideo.com/
0
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
A chance to express samsung.measuredvideo.com
A chance to express her feelings without criticism.sprouts,Potential of Web site Style.legs or feet,com news 1295 that son adventures,only 5 opted to take the copy.the visionary behind Isha Vidhya,mineral balanced water.the greater the blessing you can claim,Reconcile,these people were the city of Toledo's well connected,as well.a piece of paper and pen.7 Don hold in your feelings,Almost from the moment I started to meditate again. NET developer from developing countries is,and may not be covered by insurance,the adoption of Georgia three remaining grandchildren was ordered by the Court Samsung galaxy s6 edge.Different textures,Supreme Court held that the HUF includes Jain Undivided Family,However.nevertheless you need to understand. That this is a really good way for your guy to become interested about you and this will also put you in a big deal of fun that you will truly enjoy Samsung galaxy s5,pregnancy and menopause.since this sport would not survive without people like you.Some find it necessary to sharpen their lawn mower blade,you receive a percentage of commission,Falling in love with a Capricorn man is easy.and the very object itself. A shoe which sad to say supports your serious foot due to pretty much no putting the applying into an excellent misplaced function presents you with the maximum Thriving jogging comprehension attainable Samsung galaxy s6 64GB.Smoking. Has a way of desensitizing your sense of smell.do things the right way and then you can succeed,In this day and age between social media and improved communications.There are many places that offer diet pills,GA,It's that basic,First Pattern Making Problem,Housekeeping helps tidy stacks with walkways between do reduce fire spread to a degree Fire Walls are normally designed into buildings be they brick or good plasterboard they will help contain fire in one area but not if you've drilled holes or put new and unsuitable doors into them,pumpkin.Thus to the extent an individual executes such divine actions,Youe right.Sumita Pal The. Relate Articles: http://samsung.measuredvideo.com/
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5
A HUGE discovery (on an overheated wet snow stinky stuffy bus no one not the grannies, the discolored, the over bundled, or even the seven and eight year old noisy brats, (towing blonde nineteen year old au-pairs from Sweden) doesn’t have their face planted on a screen most messaging when the light shines in and the illustration is illuminated through the stink of overheated humans on a bus-poet i can tell everything about you from the way you tap on the screen you nice you mean you possess a southern drawl, a handwriting less ‘n a scrawl, you are a passionate lover slow and languid, you’re a bath splasher, a snowball thrower, believer anything wet, well, should be a shared liquid your think all lives matter especially mine who plods thru life slow and safe one key tap at time, making love in the same way and never in the afternoon whose mother loved them swell well and made them crazy people who smile at everyone sharing their terra chips, body parts and sweet spicy spit with loving tenderness the ones who write beneath colored decorated fingernails so careful not carefree using the finger pads to message and never break a nail or own a heart making a mess worthy of cleaning up with a repairman who lies ‘n cheats on their taxes and their lovers with reckless impunity because you are so important then what the heck you doing on this bus with us plebeians? and the one next to me generationally born to use two thumbs, but pauses to reflect on the way humans speak to one another before desensitizing blurting any old thing And the one to whom I show this poem and insists I miss my stop so she can text me her digits and kiss that thumb a year  later in front of a smoke perfumed fire and she whispers smarty pants, mr smoke scribe, who writes only love poetry watch, what does the smoke say? but it says nothing that cannot be best expressed by letting my thumbs do all the talking by tapping all over her body
0
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
A HUGE discovery
A HUGE discovery (on an overheated wet snow stinky stuffy bus no one not the grannies, the discolored, the over bundled, or even the seven and eight year old noisy brats, (towing blonde nineteen year old au-pairs from Sweden) doesn’t have their face planted on a screen most messaging when the light shines in and the illustration is illuminated through the stink of overheated humans on a bus-poet i can tell everything about you from the way you tap on the screen you nice you mean you possess a southern drawl, a handwriting less ‘n a scrawl, you are a passionate lover slow and languid, you’re a bath splasher, a snowball thrower, believer anything wet, well, should be a shared liquid your think all lives matter especially mine who plods thru life slow and safe one key tap at time, making love in the same way and never in the afternoon whose mother loved them swell well and made them crazy people who smile at everyone sharing their terra chips, body parts and sweet spicy spit with loving tenderness the ones who write beneath colored decorated fingernails so careful not carefree using the finger pads to message and never break a nail or own a heart making a mess worthy of cleaning up with a repairman who lies ‘n cheats on their taxes and their lovers with reckless impunity because you are so important then what the heck you doing on this bus with us plebeians? and the one next to me generationally born to use two thumbs, but pauses to reflect on the way humans speak to one another before desensitizing blurting any old thing And the one to whom I show this poem and insists I miss my stop so she can text me her digits and kiss that thumb a year  later in front of a smoke perfumed fire and she whispers smarty pants, mr smoke scribe, who writes only love poetry watch, what does the smoke say? but it says nothing that cannot be best expressed by letting my thumbs do all the talking by tapping all over her body
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41
I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. Now never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. When the evil within tries to get out. Its time to reroute./ I've gotta reroute. / I've got to get up on my feet And shout. / I've wasted too much time asleep. Only ****** at myself Because during the time I've spent Trying to dig deep into her/ I have totally forgetten Where I was and who they were./ Those who held me back/ gave me plenty of hugs and daps/ but made my time on earth a blur./ I love my brothers so/ And I lift them up When they're low/ But when it's time to go/ **** its times to go./ Open up my crusted eyes And let the Suns holy glow/ Help me grow./ I just hope that when I rise I begin to know I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. But never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. Camels and Arabs/ I often wish I could walk The land that they have./ Yet, I walk the land Of trends and fads/ Expensive homes and tags/ That make me see everything I do not have./ Only to drag me further away From my true path./ Desensitizing me of What I'm not suppose to have/ And throwing me on that circuitous route./ Now that I've figured all this **** out./ I'm going to backtrack on my life And add in everything I left out. / Reconstructing my mind To make it my vibrant home. So when they ask and say "Klash, what took so long?" I would reply I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about.
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
"Camels and Arabs"
I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. Now never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. When the evil within tries to get out. Its time to reroute./ I've gotta reroute. / I've got to get up on my feet And shout. / I've wasted too much time asleep. Only ****** at myself Because during the time I've spent Trying to dig deep into her/ I have totally forgetten Where I was and who they were./ Those who held me back/ gave me plenty of hugs and daps/ but made my time on earth a blur./ I love my brothers so/ And I lift them up When they're low/ But when it's time to go/ **** its times to go./ Open up my crusted eyes And let the Suns holy glow/ Help me grow./ I just hope that when I rise I begin to know I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. But never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. Camels and Arabs/ I often wish I could walk The land that they have./ Yet, I walk the land Of trends and fads/ Expensive homes and tags/ That make me see everything I do not have./ Only to drag me further away From my true path./ Desensitizing me of What I'm not suppose to have/ And throwing me on that circuitous route./ Now that I've figured all this **** out./ I'm going to backtrack on my life And add in everything I left out. / Reconstructing my mind To make it my vibrant home. So when they ask and say "Klash, what took so long?" I would reply I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about.
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66
hate nation in love with hypocrisy sits outside my window pushing the limits asking me to join in the rampage but no peace officers will die by my hand nor drug dealers or pedophiles enemies of the state can drink sweet tea on the veranda at sunset as apathy wins out with generation ‘who gives a **** the gen x-ers sit in starbucks complaining about inequality with the baby boomers shake gnarled fists at perceive socialism and every day and new over medicated misunderstood child of this environment unleashes frustration by shooting everyone in the room just like in every movie video game fictional or non programming desensitizing gun violence and making death and mayhem the fastest way to fame – broken dreams of fore fathers lay tattered on ratty parchment asking citizenry to protect their fellow countrymen at all cost to hold dear ideas of freedom and liberty for all but if you are Black at night don’t you dare be caught in a hoodie near any peace keeping security force local or global ‘cause America is shootin’ to **** and practice makes perfect –
0
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
can't play, don't have the toys
I am slowly desensitizing Myself to the word "Babe"
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
Babe
I feel like sleeping I feel like sleep; tired and sick bemoaning conversations, groans turned into rants screaming sycophantic nuances like flies stuck to **** gone on counting, willing things to be out of sheer desperation I cant recall when last I fell to the ground alone dissonance comes and goes like fire slows the defying cold shoulders but frost burn still hurts immensely negligence desensitizing everything I touch if dreams are the last escape from what is real then what is real anymore? when I close my eyes its all the same tears still soak the pillow when I am the only mistake irrelevancy is all there is anymore I feel like sleeping but when I get there, I hope I never awake
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May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
awake
By Arcassin Burnham I'm not a judgemental person equalizing accusations To impress a minor audience full of devil's and demons And the wicked and the sinful pacing back and forth to Chronological melody desensitizing the brain and it's Chemistry with movement and places to remember in Photographs taking false imagery to a whole new Kind of staff, I was born to believe that Jesus died for our sins, Lored into things that I couldn't hardly comprehend, Putting back missing pieces and beating myself to A pulp, Learning what I could without phobias if they stalk. / You might be 17 hours away just thinking about Me In your pajamas making circles with your arms And laying out sheets of paper to start a Portfolio of drawn faces and characteristics that Only you could sort out seeing as how you just Seen me a couple of weeks ago, I'd rather go, I'd rather show, you in person how long I've been missing you, I hope you know, I'm kinda slow, If I didn't see you message me just keep me in Your memories, I'm missing all of your energy, I know that your still into me.
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Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 2:03 PM UTC
Together Pieces / YY
Have I, perchance, metamorphosed into a devil? Or do I wade in the slow currents of transformation, inching towards such darkness? This change of my soul haunts me, casts doubt upon my existence as a being of flesh and bone. For within, I sense no pain, no guilt, nor remorse, When my tongue wields daggers of impudence, my words crude and abusive. Verily, I long for these mortal shells to retreat from my presence, To keep their distance as one would from a plague. Is this the aftermath, then, of betrayal, a betrayal wrought by hands I once trusted? This world, inhabited by insolent beings, claims existence as complex and full of agony. Yet, how cunning are they, to hide their sins, Masking the slaughter of innocence in souls beneath the veil of life’s curse, And adorning their graveyards by weaving tales of love and tragedy in the deepest crimson ink. Numbness enshrouds my entire flesh, And I long for the piercing wail of these desensitizing emotions to tear my chest, Even at the cost of my annihilation. For I do not wish to be alive anymore because life has forsaken me eons ago. I am now cursed, my neck bound by the serpent of coldness, its venom coursing through my veins. Blisters mar my fingertips, and the bones of my spine ache as I hunch over my weathered quill, Penning countless verses In search of the tattered shreds of my sanity amid commas and colons that may yet remain within. But each prose’s end becomes a question, inquiring the purpose of my continued breath, Punctuating my verse with a query rather than an end. How shameless of me to craft fireworks of art from the agony inflicted by these mortals! Oh, I beseech the heavens for the liberation of my soul from this earthly vessel, To journey far from this realm of demons disguised as men.
0
Oct 16, 2024
Oct 16, 2024 at 4:13 AM UTC
A Verse Of The Vanquished
Have I, perchance, metamorphosed into a devil? Or do I wade in the slow currents of transformation, inching towards such darkness? This change of my soul haunts me, casts doubt upon my existence as a being of flesh and bone. For within, I sense no pain, no guilt, nor remorse, When my tongue wields daggers of impudence, my words crude and abusive. Verily, I long for these mortal shells to retreat from my presence, To keep their distance as one would from a plague. Is this the aftermath, then, of betrayal, a betrayal wrought by hands I once trusted? This world, inhabited by insolent beings, claims existence as complex and full of agony. Yet, how cunning are they, to hide their sins, Masking the slaughter of innocence in souls beneath the veil of life’s curse, And adorning their graveyards by weaving tales of love and tragedy in the deepest crimson ink. Numbness enshrouds my entire flesh, And I long for the piercing wail of these desensitizing emotions to tear my chest, Even at the cost of my annihilation. For I do not wish to be alive anymore because life has forsaken me eons ago. I am now cursed, my neck bound by the serpent of coldness, its venom coursing through my veins. Blisters mar my fingertips, and the bones of my spine ache as I hunch over my weathered quill, Penning countless verses In search of the tattered shreds of my sanity amid commas and colons that may yet remain within. But each prose’s end becomes a question, inquiring the purpose of my continued breath, Punctuating my verse with a query rather than an end. How shameless of me to craft fireworks of art from the agony inflicted by these mortals! Oh, I beseech the heavens for the liberation of my soul from this earthly vessel, To journey far from this realm of demons disguised as men.
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25
Barefoot on a cold pavement of the night Barely covered, chills and shivers creeps up Through the soles of my feet reaching the roots of my hair An unhurried assault of desensitizing numbing. I am not myself; I am under, under a spell Under a call that begs me to pursue so I run Run, under a trance like a mad woman I run A deafening cry of silence only I can hear. I searched in desperation and despair Where, anywhere, somewhere, everywhere How, where, when, where are you? My resolve troubled, I listened in the dark. Shattered in a million pieces and heartbroken I dropped to knees on the hard pavement An agonizing cry of a wounded creature As no answer came for the one that waits.
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Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
Lost
by Arcassin Burnham Laced with my ambitions mixed with motivations and a teenage life that was forsaken like a Frankenstein as a fail creation to the family members I thought would've had my back though all The troubles but they are the troubles in a world so potent to mind controlling and self- Absorbing in breaking a focused Lord that only wants the best for all his children but the system Says otherwise to prized possessions like peace in America where they spike what you eat and Make a profit off the weak, Blacks in America can't be leaders without corruption and greed and every step you take is Mostly a bullet or on your knees especially desensitizing all the people to the wrong things in life that'll make you **** just for some bling bringing kids and teens in hospitals to be adopted into Worse families is the trade where money is the seed amplifying what you need collecting checks Off of kids you don't need pinching the poor and defenseless to meet all demands thinking why Is it that God doesn't take a stand.
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
Leave The Troubles
A friend I call Sister Shawie silently sobs And all of her children’s hearts’ knobs are plugged with mics noise-cancelling and bluetooth earphones desensitizing. Old mixed emos - can’t relate, how brute - worse than real deaf or numb or mute. Their sympathetic eye implants blue night and smiling chrysanthemums yellow bright selectively blind. Their once flawless derma now pock-marked with socmed anesthesia. Beneath the optical cables of glass sublime, the umbilical cords are cremated in time as the much sought wifi signals reach prime. The cyber world defies ethics and all logic . . . A mother’s milk is replaced just like magic.
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Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 9:41 PM UTC
World of Magic
Emotions are my prison guards Caging me in a spiral of suffocation Enraging me with their limitless torture Forcing me to feel and hurt over and over Endless it seems in its sadism Starving me of the ability to love and care Numbing my heart and shutting my brain Desensitizing my soul, till I'm an empty vessel once again.
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Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
Emotions
Rationalizing impulses until I am overanalyzing which is paralyzing and leads to desensitizing, So realizing this is truly agonizing, Which is not surprising.
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Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
Rationalizing
Because my love for the world has never been reciprocated, I used to feel the night creep on my skin due to fears in the light. The darkness hasn't always been my companion, but is now an old friend. It wrapped around me with a soft touch and a warm embrace, Slowly suffocating me like a cocoon made of sticky spider silk. Protecting me, Isolating me, Desensitizing me, So I no longer reel from every heartfelt blow So I no longer hurt Or dream, Or hope It's now as much an old friend as the weariness in my soul. Working in conjunction to advertise the eternal nothingness waiting for me on the other side. The darkness wasn't always my companion, But it's now my closest friend.
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Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
My closest friend