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"develope" poems
There is nothing worse than smoking a stoge alone knowing the white paper wrapped around leaves is a Hearse. Dying slowly with a friend feels almost alright but when the smoke billows out at night a locomotive with no incentive you get pensive and wish that cancer would develope dropping you in an early grave. The stench of burning bodies isn't a story with a life lived next to a crematory the sizzle of the cigarette akin to the sound of bacon cooking in the morning. No warning signs from a petered out mind cracked spine causing an acid flash back fluorescent butterflies peek over the guitar strings stinging like beautiful bees while the trees take deep breaths singing "Breathe child...breathe"
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
Hippie Flip
Our beginning , like new life was pure. So far away are the days that like the horizon seemed filled with eternal promises to face side by side. First as friends, then as frolicking fools too blind to see the roads sharp fork that would divide like a deep chasm. Still, we rushed forward on passions temporary fuel hitting the first bump, soon to be trapped in a cycle of blissful agony, like new life growing only to wilt in the unceasing cold to come. But, as a dead flower leaves a seed, So did we leave scars, that tells a tale to carry each of us with the other as we move on. Perhaps, A lesson learned or a wound to be examined on colder days, that like the markers along a journey guides us going forward. So as dents display the wisdom our once fresh bodies did develope on our trip, We learned to seek out bumps to avoid and though we drive different roads In opposite seasons, peace floods me as the passing road markers down memory lane become like the grave stone on that forking road where I layed each wilted petal of the flower on the dash to rest along the road on that autumn trip.
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Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 9:29 PM UTC
Flower on the dash in march
lungs Consisting of elastic sacs with branching passages into which air is drawn so that oxygen can pass into the blood and carbon dioxide be removed You planted flowers in mine and my body has not adjusted to breathe the different air. I have forever felt at one with nature  and hold the desire to assimilate myself in to it But Today my body is not ready My body will not accepted that as nature  I will be stepped on My body is A lot stronger then my heart is I want my chest to be molded to hold all of which you want to give me I want to say my carbon dioxide receptors will develope like I can turn by body into something it is not for you but truthfully i know better My body is resistant. My muscles fight for me when i am on longer doing it on my own When i don't understand that this is a battle to the death I wanted to give you something and didn't even contemplate that you could to **** it I don't think it was intentional But you have uprooted all of my nourishment and put it in my lungs and although it is beautiful I cannot digest from my lungs My life as this is not yet over I have drawn from my skin all of what it had and more I have picked at my bones i have tried to push them closer together I have tried to make my body pretty and artfull upon finding out that beautiful starts with self acceptance I worked on believing that i am beautiful I was coming to peace with loving myself I had become a garden of my own flourishing off of what i had around me When you arrived you began to dig up the roots I was using to cope swinging your shovel around like you didn't know the importance of what you were doing WHile you were teaching me that your acceptance of me was more important than that of my own The mind of which i follow told me that this was okay. My body called ******** not ready to be stepped on You had felt me with the rest of your body And planting the flowers in my lungs was so you could feel me under your feet Your feet are not the ones i want to be underneath When my body is ready i will go into the ground And the bereaved and the grave diggers and distraught will walk across me and my body will become that of another nature For the first time my body will feel completely solid.
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
You planted flowers in my lungs
lungs Consisting of elastic sacs with branching passages into which air is drawn so that oxygen can pass into the blood and carbon dioxide be removed You planted flowers in mine and my body has not adjusted to breathe the different air. I have forever felt at one with nature  and hold the desire to assimilate myself in to it But Today my body is not ready My body will not accepted that as nature  I will be stepped on My body is A lot stronger then my heart is I want my chest to be molded to hold all of which you want to give me I want to say my carbon dioxide receptors will develope like I can turn by body into something it is not for you but truthfully i know better My body is resistant. My muscles fight for me when i am on longer doing it on my own When i don't understand that this is a battle to the death I wanted to give you something and didn't even contemplate that you could to **** it I don't think it was intentional But you have uprooted all of my nourishment and put it in my lungs and although it is beautiful I cannot digest from my lungs My life as this is not yet over I have drawn from my skin all of what it had and more I have picked at my bones i have tried to push them closer together I have tried to make my body pretty and artfull upon finding out that beautiful starts with self acceptance I worked on believing that i am beautiful I was coming to peace with loving myself I had become a garden of my own flourishing off of what i had around me When you arrived you began to dig up the roots I was using to cope swinging your shovel around like you didn't know the importance of what you were doing WHile you were teaching me that your acceptance of me was more important than that of my own The mind of which i follow told me that this was okay. My body called ******** not ready to be stepped on You had felt me with the rest of your body And planting the flowers in my lungs was so you could feel me under your feet Your feet are not the ones i want to be underneath When my body is ready i will go into the ground And the bereaved and the grave diggers and distraught will walk across me and my body will become that of another nature For the first time my body will feel completely solid.
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39
Chemically embalanced to self-indulge, Others call it binge eating notice the bulge. Scream out frustration as you accuse, The one whos face weighs with hungry abuse, Conquered and established self-control is released only to be neglected, Serotonin satisfies the emotions as long as the monster is fed. Heavy eyes and painful knees, Subliminal magnets pull the subconscious to utter regretful pleas, Pale skin summons questions of existence, Unnoticed goes the sluggish caged organs that develope sickness. Taken was blood to recieve a placebo, Carrying my commented load, As temptations surface listen as I say no. If love is blind then why are you so bitter, I melted my mass like butter, Hoping the pain was worth the endeavors, For you to feel better. Now a bag of bones hooked to a drip, Malnourished and weak I took a bad trip, Hovering at my bedside, I whispered, "pull the plug just let me die..." As you watch my motionless and bedshaped body weep, Did you not realize your viscious words cut deep.
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Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 9:02 PM UTC
Eating The Disorder
I tend to have a deep endearment and emotional intrest in coldhearted people, i see good in them, and i want to develope a relationship with them, i fall inlove with what i know they can be, i want to be there for them and see what there about, i have this huge thing for ******** type people, but sometimes when you play with fire, theres a great possibility you will get burned.
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
Untitled
I hold on to my cigarette for that last drag, Right before I almost flick it The last breath of calming air, The last moment to not worry. I salute the sky with my cup To taste the last drop of bourbon Because sleeping sober seems daunting. I watch the pines bend, hearing them creak, With the scent of old oak split for the fire, I'm nervous and confident and shy And outgoing and hateful and happy, And I love kissing and cooking, I've been to almost every state, Taking in gorgeous terrain, I write for "you" for "her" for "me", For "them" and about nothing, I sing from my heart and develope True lies from what's inside me, I want my friends and family to Die first so that I know no one will Will miss me because dying is bad enough, But knowing they're hurting more is worse. I look up at the stars at night when I can see them, and I wonder "Where am I going?" And every time, I swear to God, A shooting star flies. You'd think something so fast would Make a sound, but its silence only Preserves it's glory. I always heard that they were rare, I've seen so many, I've lost count, And honestly, I think that's a tragedy Because I should awe and wonder at such Faithless beauty. I don't think that I am different, I think I am myself, But I also counter argue With the fact that if everyone were themself We'd all be the same. Individual sheep in a herd. These are mindless ramblings, Of a worried and loving person, But also the fears of a mildly depressed human. I go back home to clear my head And appreciate that I am welcome. It's an odd thought, but I realize That is one hundred times better than Some people have it. I'm concerned but greatful, I'm awash with misery, I'm excited and resilient, And happy, and dismayed. It's hard when you know who you are, But not how to Be.
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Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
From A Heart.
I hold on to my cigarette for that last drag, Right before I almost flick it The last breath of calming air, The last moment to not worry. I salute the sky with my cup To taste the last drop of bourbon Because sleeping sober seems daunting. I watch the pines bend, hearing them creak, With the scent of old oak split for the fire, I'm nervous and confident and shy And outgoing and hateful and happy, And I love kissing and cooking, I've been to almost every state, Taking in gorgeous terrain, I write for "you" for "her" for "me", For "them" and about nothing, I sing from my heart and develope True lies from what's inside me, I want my friends and family to Die first so that I know no one will Will miss me because dying is bad enough, But knowing they're hurting more is worse. I look up at the stars at night when I can see them, and I wonder "Where am I going?" And every time, I swear to God, A shooting star flies. You'd think something so fast would Make a sound, but its silence only Preserves it's glory. I always heard that they were rare, I've seen so many, I've lost count, And honestly, I think that's a tragedy Because I should awe and wonder at such Faithless beauty. I don't think that I am different, I think I am myself, But I also counter argue With the fact that if everyone were themself We'd all be the same. Individual sheep in a herd. These are mindless ramblings, Of a worried and loving person, But also the fears of a mildly depressed human. I go back home to clear my head And appreciate that I am welcome. It's an odd thought, but I realize That is one hundred times better than Some people have it. I'm concerned but greatful, I'm awash with misery, I'm excited and resilient, And happy, and dismayed. It's hard when you know who you are, But not how to Be.
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55
Suffering sadness, Trapped in your own dillusional sense of a fictional reality, Created by a minipulative enabler, Every bump, Scratch, Pain, Hive, Belly ache, Sore throat, Something more then what is. False accusations turn into a desperate desire to develope a deeply fatal disease. Harmful self punches and bites, Create bruises on your body. Lies. Everyone a false ****** up mistake. Not a **** up, but severely ****** up. Dismissing the only one who saw through the ******** and still loved you. The only one who helped you. The only one who tried to make you see. Not a friend. But to you, just an immature drama queen. Why fight for a back stabber? A liar? Someone who has never been there for me when I needed you most. Inconsiderate. The opposite of love is indifference, To hate is to feel emotion. No hatred. Pity. I pity you. You will be forever alone. No one will stand by you as I stood by you. All will see through the ******** Once they see, No one will stay. You have no one. I feel sorry for you. Sorry. Sorry.
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Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Eh.
who designated the negative  and abstract term of the ***** to represent the race of our beautiful multi-tribal Black People the ***** represents something that is dead and insignificant but Black People are full of life love and happiness what gives other people the moral authority justification or the moral right to define Black Folks or to tell us what to think Black Women must stop purchasing crazy hair products' weaves extensions for their hair and creams and gels to lighten up their skin to look more European with sraight hair so we must define our own beauty within us because we always possessed it stop buying unecessary Black hair products from Asian shops and making them rich from our hard earn cash no other racial groups would come into our Black communities to support or buy goods and services from Black own businesses we must take care of our own first and formost Black Women must develope a more natural look in harmony with God and display our healthy curly kninky shiny natural dynamic  and beautiful black hair we must consolidate our financial resources and build Black  own businesses and products to take care of our own needs God made us in His own image our Black Women have always been the beautiful queens of the River Nile and only we can determine all of that furthermore no other race on this planet shall define us let me tell you something about them Negros logically and scientifically if we go back far enough from here to Timbuktu the Chinese come from China an Irishman comes from Ireland Frenchmen come from France an Englishman comes from England Germans comes from Germany so on and so forth but where in the hell did the ***** come from logically he comes from Negroland however this is just a plain old fashion cotton-picking lie bigotry ignorence prejudice and stupidity at work here Black People are the original people of this earth and created from the black soil of Mother Africa we are stolen people taken from Mother Africa against our free will Black People did not volunteer to come to America but we have every right to live or die in the pursuit of happiness just like any other group that successfuly made it in America and we help to build America and turned it into a superpower rich nation yet for the love of money greed and power capitalism thus created a monster called racism towards people of color Black People are the original People evolved from Mother Africa thus we are made from the image God rejoice upon it born with black skin is not a curse but a blessing from God up above
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Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Not A Curse But A Blessing
who designated the negative  and abstract term of the ***** to represent the race of our beautiful multi-tribal Black People the ***** represents something that is dead and insignificant but Black People are full of life love and happiness what gives other people the moral authority justification or the moral right to define Black Folks or to tell us what to think Black Women must stop purchasing crazy hair products' weaves extensions for their hair and creams and gels to lighten up their skin to look more European with sraight hair so we must define our own beauty within us because we always possessed it stop buying unecessary Black hair products from Asian shops and making them rich from our hard earn cash no other racial groups would come into our Black communities to support or buy goods and services from Black own businesses we must take care of our own first and formost Black Women must develope a more natural look in harmony with God and display our healthy curly kninky shiny natural dynamic  and beautiful black hair we must consolidate our financial resources and build Black  own businesses and products to take care of our own needs God made us in His own image our Black Women have always been the beautiful queens of the River Nile and only we can determine all of that furthermore no other race on this planet shall define us let me tell you something about them Negros logically and scientifically if we go back far enough from here to Timbuktu the Chinese come from China an Irishman comes from Ireland Frenchmen come from France an Englishman comes from England Germans comes from Germany so on and so forth but where in the hell did the ***** come from logically he comes from Negroland however this is just a plain old fashion cotton-picking lie bigotry ignorence prejudice and stupidity at work here Black People are the original people of this earth and created from the black soil of Mother Africa we are stolen people taken from Mother Africa against our free will Black People did not volunteer to come to America but we have every right to live or die in the pursuit of happiness just like any other group that successfuly made it in America and we help to build America and turned it into a superpower rich nation yet for the love of money greed and power capitalism thus created a monster called racism towards people of color Black People are the original People evolved from Mother Africa thus we are made from the image God rejoice upon it born with black skin is not a curse but a blessing from God up above
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170
My memories look faded, like old instant develope polaroid film in a photo album. Today, pictures are almost all digital, and more vibrant, than real time. I wonder; how will the future memories of today's young children look? Is their vision of the future as cloudy my own?
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Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
Prose
so I can't get what I want. And what I want is to be enough. To be good enough to my parents to not make them comment about suicide. To be good enough to my friends to actually develope a close bond with them. To be good enough as a person to help others and make them happy. To be good enough academically to have a good future. To be enough as a person to not have to always prove myself To not always have to fight To not have people take advantage of me To not have people treat me like crap To not have people talk about me behind my back To not have people mock me and make fun of me To not have people reject me based on my gender To not have people judge me base on my image To not have to fight back To not have to defend myself all the time. I just want to be good enough. *but the world is not a wish granting factory So I can't get what I want.*
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
The world is not a wish granting factory #3
Fresh at birth So smooth and small Fingers with such little girth Even as you learn to crawl So smooth and small No longer Even as you learn to crawl Your hands become stronger No longer As you move through life Your hands become stronger Pulling you through strife As you move through life Your hands develope Pulling you through strife Innocence past corrupt Your hands develope Touching the life of others Innocence past corrupt But gentle as lovers Touching the life of others Finding a spouce But gentle as lovers Love unable to douse Finding a spouce New hands coming to Earth Love unable to douse Fresh at birth
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 9:22 PM UTC
Hands (pantoum)
*your nightmares and daydreams used to be photographs Baby, But now.... like the very soul of your heartbreaking You remember the day , you didn't know what to say, the only thing you could do is just run away And hide for days I know that you've always had that though in your head Like why ,did it have to be this way? The burning and empty passion, those words filled with lies, round and free to twirl I know you hate inside Please don't you cry tonight Over lost love Develope pain Open your eyes And paint again And think of me as your loyal friend to secure your dreams and hopes here you want hurt again Just hold on to my hand's*
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Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Lost Girl, Lost Love
There are days when it seems the world feels smaller, Maybe, I'm being overly self-conscious. Probably. Today, I have to pack my **** I'm moving back home, I'm not ready to be alone. Yet, here I sit. At the same spot I wrote "All children make mistakes" This will either be a "part two" maybe just another "Untitled" I'm throwing back two shots of whisky And putting the empty bottle in my pocket. I know I'm a good poet, I know at some point I've written something someone could relate to. Maybe even saved a life. I'll never know, I don't think I want to. Growing up I always wanted to be like the people who saved me, Develope some ability to stop someone from... Well, let's face it. I'm scared of the word. It's like it has the ability to turn from letters into a rope slipping up my leg, A snake in the grass And tie itself around my neck and lead me like cattle. I'm strong I'm strong I'm... I'm just a ****** up kid in a twenty year old's body. Ive realized that the pressure that comes with saving a life is overwhelming, Too much for little 'ole me. "I'm not like the rest." I am. I know I am. My depression is bad. Real bad. I'm scared it'll rip you away like a scab, You'll tear the scar tissue and be freed While I'm left with a hole, bleeding. My now ex-roommates keep asking me if I'm okay. Nah, I'm not. I'm so lost. Happy with things, honestly. It all kinda worked out. I'm just lost. And I wanted to talk to you about it on our walk. But, you wanted to be with your friends. It's okay though. I'll just pack my **** in a bit and when you ask if I'm okay, I'll pretend I didn't write this. Not to spite you, But because I'll have pushed it into the box of negativity that everyone calls a heart. Well, metaphorically.
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
The sound of the stream, is always here when I need it.
There are days when it seems the world feels smaller, Maybe, I'm being overly self-conscious. Probably. Today, I have to pack my **** I'm moving back home, I'm not ready to be alone. Yet, here I sit. At the same spot I wrote "All children make mistakes" This will either be a "part two" maybe just another "Untitled" I'm throwing back two shots of whisky And putting the empty bottle in my pocket. I know I'm a good poet, I know at some point I've written something someone could relate to. Maybe even saved a life. I'll never know, I don't think I want to. Growing up I always wanted to be like the people who saved me, Develope some ability to stop someone from... Well, let's face it. I'm scared of the word. It's like it has the ability to turn from letters into a rope slipping up my leg, A snake in the grass And tie itself around my neck and lead me like cattle. I'm strong I'm strong I'm... I'm just a ****** up kid in a twenty year old's body. Ive realized that the pressure that comes with saving a life is overwhelming, Too much for little 'ole me. "I'm not like the rest." I am. I know I am. My depression is bad. Real bad. I'm scared it'll rip you away like a scab, You'll tear the scar tissue and be freed While I'm left with a hole, bleeding. My now ex-roommates keep asking me if I'm okay. Nah, I'm not. I'm so lost. Happy with things, honestly. It all kinda worked out. I'm just lost. And I wanted to talk to you about it on our walk. But, you wanted to be with your friends. It's okay though. I'll just pack my **** in a bit and when you ask if I'm okay, I'll pretend I didn't write this. Not to spite you, But because I'll have pushed it into the box of negativity that everyone calls a heart. Well, metaphorically.
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51
the tangible body is never truly free after all, this is why the mind exists as it allows the figments to develope, where would they fly? i often wondered what bird would sit on its own wings to keep themselves from escaping their caged heads
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
untitled3
Any animal in the forest that suddenly decides to develope and grows a horn just because of me, will definitely finds out that it's horn will eventually be used as a cup to drink wine. I am like the praying mantis that dances before it kills. Calm and calculative, focused and thoughtful, tactful and mindful, meditative and intuitive. But can also be dangerous for the praying mantis kills. The dance steps and movements are hypnotic and mesmerizing. A little mistake can drastically cause you your joy and happiness, even your life and be the little storm that turns into a big deal that can mess up your life. It's like the ***** and the excrete of the mythical animal set as a bait to catch it's prey. But what does it all mean. Don't mess up what is so important to you just because you are a little unsure of who you are. ©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 5:18 AM UTC
PRAYING MANTIS DANCE.
Through time and space there are a million minds that mirror my own. We share idea, though somewhat distorted between us and many times we have never met or heard the original idea. There is something in the convergence of our existence that causes great ideas to develope sperately but similiarly. This is to be expected we live on the same planet, share similiar forms, feel similiar emotions and have acces to similiar information and technology.
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Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
Untitled
Even though only a couple of days passed I still worry where you were seen last For some reason I start to develope All these illusions that get me enveloped She’s probably busy She’s probably ill I hope it’s one of those I hope not to wait here still
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Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 11:13 AM UTC
Where Has She Gone?