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"deterrents" poems
Despicability is the foundation to their life For them it is intrinsic Genetically encoded Simplistic Poetically eroded Reprehensible at best      **Unscrupulously callous      Secrets and facts, they conveniently      ingest      Distorted byproducts, they release to the      masses      To aid their campaign; a forked tongue      fest** Pathetic and unapologetic A beast armed to the teeth Imported bypasses to increase the flow of police A weakness and an act, They so vehemently attest      **Harvesting greens off the branches of      the people      Pockets engorged with wads and folds      Crushing blue collars at the lower levels      As they sit atop their pyramids of gold** Today they sip champagne To celebrate their reign Tonight we'll skip being humane To feed them excruciating pain      **You've incited this coup with ill-thought      deterrents      Now herald the arrival of the scourge      Down with lopsided governments      Tonight... All we would topple! Tonight we purge!** Justin G ryn**
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Tonight We Purge! (Featuring ryn)
When life becomes meaningless no matter what you do seems useless and all opportunities you grab wasted broken dreams lurking with self busted everything you hold on now starts to fall drags your feeling pushed against the wall realization of your life is at the cutting edge. When life becomes the darkest no hope of light made you weakest things you touched soon are dead failure always cling to you instead you try to survive from uncertainties yet your ego succumbs to all the vanities Doubt overcomes self falling to the cutting edge. Though life becomes vague Do not give up to fight the plague For quitters do not win any endeavor Hang-on lit the ember to light you with fervor For as long as you have the courage to go forward Then no amount of deterrents can make you a coward And in the end you will be able to override the cutting edge.
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
Cutting Edge
Constantly averting controversy, Hurting from unnerving problems. Not the worst thing I've unearthed inside, The birth of mind-disturbing strife attacks my life, so I Turn the knife and end the plight, cause That's the kind of fright that strikes the right delight I see in sight. In darkest night, sin harkens. Vibrant demons mark their silent dealings with violence. Screaming stops my lungs, no breathing, Retreating feelings try to stop the gun from ringing, But the voice inside my head that's pleading Remains important and so appeasing. Like a fiend I resort to that deemed purport, A pristine contortion of me and distortion, A means for war, hence demons worsen.   Cursed, I've seen adverse ********** Burned, at least the urn was worth it. Dreams are but a sea of urges, Waves of hurt; a ****** circus. Earth was keen to be so perfect, But dirt, it seems, reversed its purpose, Purged of peace by scheming serpents. Words convene to verse excursions Terse, obscene, and birth diversion. Learn to breathe when yearn disperses, Purely seek to preserve incursion. When earnest deeds immerse subservience,   Evil creeds are sure to surface, But thoughts serene will soothe the burdens. Heaps of greed control these words,   Though, predisposed in certain versions. Weeds they grow in fields of ferns, and, No one seems to know the urgence. Flowing streams bring treacherous currents, Twists and turns that reap insurgence. Since discernment keeps deterrents, Court the beast with immense observance, Or disease will curse life's brief occurrence. Treat the deepest ravine of courage With leniency so peace emerges. Dreams are but a grieving circus, That creep beneath your bleeding surface, Seizing leagues of zealous verbiage, Leaving hurt to skirt loves purpose, return concernment; Submerge the cures for feeling worthless.
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC
The Logistics
Constantly averting controversy, Hurting from unnerving problems. Not the worst thing I've unearthed inside, The birth of mind-disturbing strife attacks my life, so I Turn the knife and end the plight, cause That's the kind of fright that strikes the right delight I see in sight. In darkest night, sin harkens. Vibrant demons mark their silent dealings with violence. Screaming stops my lungs, no breathing, Retreating feelings try to stop the gun from ringing, But the voice inside my head that's pleading Remains important and so appeasing. Like a fiend I resort to that deemed purport, A pristine contortion of me and distortion, A means for war, hence demons worsen.   Cursed, I've seen adverse ********** Burned, at least the urn was worth it. Dreams are but a sea of urges, Waves of hurt; a ****** circus. Earth was keen to be so perfect, But dirt, it seems, reversed its purpose, Purged of peace by scheming serpents. Words convene to verse excursions Terse, obscene, and birth diversion. Learn to breathe when yearn disperses, Purely seek to preserve incursion. When earnest deeds immerse subservience,   Evil creeds are sure to surface, But thoughts serene will soothe the burdens. Heaps of greed control these words,   Though, predisposed in certain versions. Weeds they grow in fields of ferns, and, No one seems to know the urgence. Flowing streams bring treacherous currents, Twists and turns that reap insurgence. Since discernment keeps deterrents, Court the beast with immense observance, Or disease will curse life's brief occurrence. Treat the deepest ravine of courage With leniency so peace emerges. Dreams are but a grieving circus, That creep beneath your bleeding surface, Seizing leagues of zealous verbiage, Leaving hurt to skirt loves purpose, return concernment; Submerge the cures for feeling worthless.
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45
Equally at home in the streets and just as gifted in a suit with a delicately done press. the smooth operator Is one of the most dangerous creatures we've yet encountered They're found everywhere, coast to coast, from NY To Chicago, also spotted up north in Canada and down south in Key Largo. The smooth operator is equipped for any encounter with eyes that pierce deep into the soul and can approach anybody with a confidence level unrivalled by none but their own kind. There is only one, Nay Two known deterrents of the smooth operator, either a pathetic Roger Rabbit like nerd, or a spilled drink. careful out there ladies. it's a jungle.
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:22 AM UTC
Smooth Operator
In the face of one's dreams there are many deterrents. The river will rush and ravage, just go with the current. Just toss yourself in, don't open your eyes. The safety you need is found in the mind. Ebola. We will die, so what's the point? Terrorism. We can't control it, so what's the point? You're white. I'm still rolling, so what's your point? He's black. No factors depend on that, so what's your point? The point is life is a delicate process it never stops existing, there's some kind of progress it cycles through birth and death all the time. There is no sense to fear, stress, or worry. No sense of any kind.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
Why Should It Stop Us?
The United States of America has never been a democracy. Our Constitution, drafted and ratified in 1787, legalized slavery in all 13 nascent States. Eight of our presidents were slaveholders, including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who owned more the 600 slaves. Though the 13th Amendment legally abolished slavery in 1865, the KKK , founded also in 1865, began to flourish in the Deep South when U. S. troops were recalled in 1877. White Supremacists used a vicious range of deterrents to keep Blacks from voting:  Deep South State constitutions and laws;  poll taxes;  literacy tests;  the "grandfather clause";  and outright intimidation, including lynchings that occurred at their peak from 1890 to 1920. Today, Trump supporters have swept through almost all State legislatures "legalizing" myriad ways to keep minorities from voting, as well as other ways to invalidate their votes. In addition to brutalizing Blacks throughout our nation's history, we must not forget the genocide perpetrated by our government against indigenous peoples who had populated the continent for millennia, culminating between 1860 and 1890 with the coup de grace of Wounded Knee. "Manifest Destiny" was not democracy. It was manifest inhumanity. TOD HOWARD HAWKS
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Jan 4, 2022
Jan 4, 2022 at 2:39 PM UTC
THE DECONSTRUCTION OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY
I was a fire, burning, crackling, bursting. Many have tried to effuse my vitriolic flames. But I was too strong, too powerful for their deterrents. I could've take on anything everything. I'd burn, scar people, just so that they'd remember who I am. Strong, independent, ultimate, indestructable. But then, in a moment of weakness, I was extinguished into nothing but a pile of ashes. A stolen soul. A broken heart. And all it took was a missive. It was then that I realized, I'm not the fire. The true bearer of this flame. The fire was from the one person that I respected that I trusted that I loved. They fueled me. And they were the one that killed me, that left me dry with just the words "Good-bye."
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 5:19 PM UTC
Cold Turkey
All your bills are paid as long as you play the game, and let the A.I. stay in your lane for you, as automated servitude serves the servants every hue of desire and need. Its paradise without the dice, don't need advice when the pie is already sliced, and colored to supply, every kind of mind, and the likes of every combination of rhymes, that are randomised to the lines, replaced by lit strips along the street, that lead the way to work while you sleep, so that you can dream and think, of a paradise, while it works, builds and breathes, toxicity healthily, while growing, and knowing everything, never needing to think. The machines know what needs transposed, and does exactly what needs to be, always noticing every thing, but not everyone, so automated guns watch over every single street, and when anyone runs, they have defied the trust, and are reduced to dust, that is swept up, by an automated gust from the gutters hustle to keep it clean, so that you may live the dream, alone and weakening, giving way to the machines. Paradise is coming, and its kills are clean, closing your eyes to sing of singing, as its listening, while skimming for key words, to feed better blurbs to blur the misfocused notions, motioned, for deterrents in the currents of controlled life flows, what you have, see, and who you know, proposed, in your allowed hold, on reality. It is a tragedy to differ from the rigor of your script, if you wish to make it, relax and take it, just submit to the beautiful concepts elected, to check your veer from the path and steer you back to paradise, as its coming fast, and may pass you by, with the initial blast.
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Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
Paradise Coming
All your bills are paid as long as you play the game, and let the A.I. stay in your lane for you, as automated servitude serves the servants every hue of desire and need. Its paradise without the dice, don't need advice when the pie is already sliced, and colored to supply, every kind of mind, and the likes of every combination of rhymes, that are randomised to the lines, replaced by lit strips along the street, that lead the way to work while you sleep, so that you can dream and think, of a paradise, while it works, builds and breathes, toxicity healthily, while growing, and knowing everything, never needing to think. The machines know what needs transposed, and does exactly what needs to be, always noticing every thing, but not everyone, so automated guns watch over every single street, and when anyone runs, they have defied the trust, and are reduced to dust, that is swept up, by an automated gust from the gutters hustle to keep it clean, so that you may live the dream, alone and weakening, giving way to the machines. Paradise is coming, and its kills are clean, closing your eyes to sing of singing, as its listening, while skimming for key words, to feed better blurbs to blur the misfocused notions, motioned, for deterrents in the currents of controlled life flows, what you have, see, and who you know, proposed, in your allowed hold, on reality. It is a tragedy to differ from the rigor of your script, if you wish to make it, relax and take it, just submit to the beautiful concepts elected, to check your veer from the path and steer you back to paradise, as its coming fast, and may pass you by, with the initial blast.
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5
Hear the voice of the speaker Does it sound like a drover Be ready to out-manoeuvre And join the out-sider A lot of lesson’s learner Do you have an honest teacher? Deterrents handed down from nurturer Knowledge taught by academic master As a youth thats your understructure Additional conversations provide an idea Helps construct a future vision As we ‘re living dreams of ancestry’s generation Of accomplished objectives and vocation We are evolutionary foundation from inspiration
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Information Foundation
. To what do we owe this canvas knapsack of fears draped heavily upon our back, bringing shoulders to a tipping point Weighted of decisions to be made and thoughts which haunt when we are alone Straps cut into tender flesh, scars build where smooth skin once slept now bedded down by burdens in an uncomforting fabric, warm but dark and painful as nighttime brings a solitude of tears Wishes find four wall deterrents, though from a southern facing window a light penetrates the anguished fog, illuminating this room of desperation, inviting glances to find that of which smiles are born Now as we find our hearts migrating past curtained weeping patterns, reaching for the glowing affection whispering on blissful breezes, soothing longings of safe arms to hold us in this time of need Run with every speed to this view, calling of moonbeams and star dust careful not to trip over the worries cast aside to the floor beneath your bed where they shall remain hidden behind a door now locked by love To what do we owe this canvas knapsack of fears? Only ourselves if we continue to look behind at what was instead of casting our eyes forward on what is now offered just outside that southern facing window of opportunity
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Now locked by love
Long ago, in a time that seems so far away Doesn’t that sound so much like a cliché? A time before grown up became a word When a day lasted forever, isn’t that absurd? Wishes you made on a shooting star came true Really? What other lies were told to you? A four-leaf clover brings good luck, There is gold at rainbows end. But, all you find is muck. A time so far away was my childhood I wish I had known, wish I had understood That a day is not forever, they pass in a blink Each day creating another memory in the chain link. I am grown now and I have seen the shooting star. I haven’t made a wish on this fiery rock from afar It wouldn’t hear me as it travels the sky Heading to earth on its final death cry. It has filled the news these last few weeks Nothing to be done, no deterrents to seek. The world leaders have head for cover Hoping they will be able survive once it’s over. People look to each of their religions Hoping for some divine interventions. But some have decided the best way to cope Is to steal a new television, a stereo, some dope. They scream and rage against what is to be Fighting in the streets in their fearful agony. Two days to go and I have a spot picked. I have a list, all boxes ticked. Music, wine and a blanket to rest For my faithful doggy companion on this quest In the forest of my childhood play I will find the mossy grave where I will finally lay. To smell the earth and hear the birds last song. Knowing all to soon it will be forever gone. In a time so far away.
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Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
A Time So Far Away
Long ago, in a time that seems so far away Doesn’t that sound so much like a cliché? A time before grown up became a word When a day lasted forever, isn’t that absurd? Wishes you made on a shooting star came true Really? What other lies were told to you? A four-leaf clover brings good luck, There is gold at rainbows end. But, all you find is muck. A time so far away was my childhood I wish I had known, wish I had understood That a day is not forever, they pass in a blink Each day creating another memory in the chain link. I am grown now and I have seen the shooting star. I haven’t made a wish on this fiery rock from afar It wouldn’t hear me as it travels the sky Heading to earth on its final death cry. It has filled the news these last few weeks Nothing to be done, no deterrents to seek. The world leaders have head for cover Hoping they will be able survive once it’s over. People look to each of their religions Hoping for some divine interventions. But some have decided the best way to cope Is to steal a new television, a stereo, some dope. They scream and rage against what is to be Fighting in the streets in their fearful agony. Two days to go and I have a spot picked. I have a list, all boxes ticked. Music, wine and a blanket to rest For my faithful doggy companion on this quest In the forest of my childhood play I will find the mossy grave where I will finally lay. To smell the earth and hear the birds last song. Knowing all to soon it will be forever gone. In a time so far away.
Continue reading...
35
When life becomes meaningless no matter what you do seem useless and all opportunities you grab wasted broken dreams lurking with self busted everything you hold on now starts to fall drags you feel pushed against the wall realization of life is at the cutting edge. When life becomes the darkest no hope of light makes you weakest and things you touch soon are dead failure always cling to you instead you try to survive from uncertainties yet your ego succumbs to all the vanities Doubt overcomes self to feel the cutting edge. Though life becomes vague Do not give up to fight the plague For quitters do not win any endeavor Hang on lit the ember to light you with fervor For as long as you have the courage to go forward Then no amount of deterrents can make you a coward And in the end you will be able to override the cutting edge.
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Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
When Life is at the Cutting Edge
Verse 1 Like a hummingbird with wings to fly, emerging forward towards the sky Ever receptive to the dream, for all that you’ve witnessed or ever seen Release and so defy, no greater time to try, just hold on, trust and so rely Much higher than the fall, it’s time to give your all To the promises you’re believing for Chorus I believe you will receive, the blessings, its free I am sure, you’re truly called, to the victory, that is yours It’s time to soar Verse 2 With an open mind, steered to drive, follow through to the road, you will arrive Operate the gear, embrace the view, I believe in this, I believe in you Release hold off the break, it’s time to operate, keep going, there’s just no time to wait Your view is crystal clear, it’s that special time, it’s your moment The promises are near Chorus Bridge Spread your wings, at the edge to take the flight Look beyond, deterrents in your sight To succeed, turn wrongness into right Travel through to greater heights Chorus Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
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Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC
Time to Soar
Rejection You are a very long way away And in front of me stand a thousand rejections. I am not going to fight my way through all those deterrents, Just to reach you and ask you out And then you become one thousand and one. If you ask me out, you already know what I will say. I will say yes, only to you, with no other do I wish to make, A true love connection. If you want to fall in love with me And you want to hear that you are heaven sent, Then ask me, say you want me; my heart has already been won. This is our time, our day. Are you my true love? Or are you another rejection? I am only interested in commitment. Are you Valentine and Va Va Voom! Or so quick to be gone… Time to move on. (C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
Rejection