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"dignities" poems
There are so many sides to me... A perplexing mixed identity... A spliced yet whole menagerie... Of characters... To meet each one...is to be undone... Touched...without flesh... I am Vesuvius...just below the surface... Molten malice merging...swirling... The narrow Nile... Meandering mildly...coaxing vexing perplexing...wildly... A temptress...a child...a bitter diatribe...holding...no...unfolding... This story...non-benign... And this is where you come in... Tumultuous tide...your raging winds... A course-less calamity...to pursue... That is not me...THAT...is you... Unbridled...and unabashed... Alas our toxic story line...how well embittered did entwine...our love... Dangerous pursuit...then...you took root... Off with the loot... Of my misfortune... I attempt to fold... Forfeit my resentment...discontentment... My own deliverance from you... You disappear...no...transform Retreat...from your chaotic norm... Another type of magic trick...to capture my bewilderment.... Fully... Fooly... Folly... Tears tremble on edge...carried swiftly from ledge...where they teeter... Behind each one...is held an ocean... A watery well... Endless emotion... Navigating features...dodging dignities plea... WE... Toss the currency of love into the depths... Whisper wishes on the wind... The downward dance...a wishes chance... The murky bottom is but wishful thinking... I should be rich off the wonder... That put asunder...Our love... I am Vesuvius... Just below the surface...
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Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
I Am Vesuvius...
There are so many sides to me... A perplexing mixed identity... A spliced yet whole menagerie... Of characters... To meet each one...is to be undone... Touched...without flesh... I am Vesuvius...just below the surface... Molten malice merging...swirling... The narrow Nile... Meandering mildly...coaxing vexing perplexing...wildly... A temptress...a child...a bitter diatribe...holding...no...unfolding... This story...non-benign... And this is where you come in... Tumultuous tide...your raging winds... A course-less calamity...to pursue... That is not me...THAT...is you... Unbridled...and unabashed... Alas our toxic story line...how well embittered did entwine...our love... Dangerous pursuit...then...you took root... Off with the loot... Of my misfortune... I attempt to fold... Forfeit my resentment...discontentment... My own deliverance from you... You disappear...no...transform Retreat...from your chaotic norm... Another type of magic trick...to capture my bewilderment.... Fully... Fooly... Folly... Tears tremble on edge...carried swiftly from ledge...where they teeter... Behind each one...is held an ocean... A watery well... Endless emotion... Navigating features...dodging dignities plea... WE... Toss the currency of love into the depths... Whisper wishes on the wind... The downward dance...a wishes chance... The murky bottom is but wishful thinking... I should be rich off the wonder... That put asunder...Our love... I am Vesuvius... Just below the surface...
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44
Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Our toils obscure, an’ a’ that; The rank is but the guinea’s stamp; The man’s the gowd for a’ that, What tho’ on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin-gray, an’ a’ that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man’s a man for a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Their tinsel show an’ a’ that; The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor, Is king o’ men for a’ that. Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that; Tho’ hundreds worship at his word, He’s but a coof for a’ that: For a’ that, an’ a’ that, His riband, star, an’ a’ that, The man o’ independent mind, He looks and laughs at a’ that. A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that; But an honest man’s aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that, Their dignities, an’ a’ that, The pith o’ sense, an’ pride o’ worth, Are higher rank than a’ that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a’ that, That sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth, May bear the gree, an’ a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that, It’s coming yet, for a’ that, That man to man, the warld o’er, Shall brothers be for a’ that.
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2.6k
For A’ That And A’ That
Kiss me through this window pane And tell me you love me Though I cannot hear you Pick a raindrop and watch it fall Let out a breath and again inhale The sweet and toxic air Stand up tall and straight When you walk away from me So our dignities are upheld And don't miss me or mourn Don't get sad, not angry Don't let a thread of thought Of me collapse into your Guarded mind For I will destroy you
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Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
I Will Destroy You
You could desperate hear me start weeping Ruckus started to crying to crack tangerine holds one still upright auburn as an immortal's loneliness fogged or condemned stays a Sahara burnt hot tambourine a hangover led Arabian a broken record some shattered the bathroom bar. I wonder for my brother's dowry on beds too kempt to be called beds and doorframes and lamps set never high enough to hit again, to stand to kneel to lock to lash to hold to my brother's body now felt to me like the female sold fragile to the greater cities with a vote, he clearly left his Argentina behind no matter how she paled, ended struck. No longer a child or sister to pass as to take guests in alone to stand our married couple's cries an unmuteable radio can't go back to playrooms for imparallel dignities' sake that made all the noise at night worth it to deal with I, don't want to play the rook if no horse of yours' beside. Now once the scarcity of your voice, if even morbid, is to be greeted by me alone, Adam and Eve we have unable to see, just for the empty halls of your decision just for me to hit, your turned leaf hidden agenda of relief, I recognise my faiths of the old of your endless mornings supposedly killed by snoring and your vividness to my thoughts a foreign concept, to note you resurrected out of mind and out of sight the congruence picks me out and slaps me that our cocoon and safe designed for you was nothing short of a coma web in your eyes to begin with instead. ... I look out to my brother's dowry to hold stubborn, fainted in my nook the head of my brother's body to sit on his old air this house keeps like a sari gem he will never long for again.
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Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 10:10 AM UTC
Jasper for Broken Sands
You could desperate hear me start weeping Ruckus started to crying to crack tangerine holds one still upright auburn as an immortal's loneliness fogged or condemned stays a Sahara burnt hot tambourine a hangover led Arabian a broken record some shattered the bathroom bar. I wonder for my brother's dowry on beds too kempt to be called beds and doorframes and lamps set never high enough to hit again, to stand to kneel to lock to lash to hold to my brother's body now felt to me like the female sold fragile to the greater cities with a vote, he clearly left his Argentina behind no matter how she paled, ended struck. No longer a child or sister to pass as to take guests in alone to stand our married couple's cries an unmuteable radio can't go back to playrooms for imparallel dignities' sake that made all the noise at night worth it to deal with I, don't want to play the rook if no horse of yours' beside. Now once the scarcity of your voice, if even morbid, is to be greeted by me alone, Adam and Eve we have unable to see, just for the empty halls of your decision just for me to hit, your turned leaf hidden agenda of relief, I recognise my faiths of the old of your endless mornings supposedly killed by snoring and your vividness to my thoughts a foreign concept, to note you resurrected out of mind and out of sight the congruence picks me out and slaps me that our cocoon and safe designed for you was nothing short of a coma web in your eyes to begin with instead. ... I look out to my brother's dowry to hold stubborn, fainted in my nook the head of my brother's body to sit on his old air this house keeps like a sari gem he will never long for again.
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43
Dread, is when I took step after endless step on the staircase of death. No. ‘Death’ is too extreme - ‘staircase of scattered limbs and self-esteems.’ The summit wasn’t far now yet it wasn’t getting any closer. My cousin Keya was behind me; her breath cooled my sun-blistered calves and I looked back at her. Her almond eyes and her thin lips came together in that customary way that moved anyone to her command. I turned back and took the steps two at a time, too quickly to think. Was the sky really this blue? When it isn’t crowded out by buildings, planes and industry it could be mistaken for the smiling reflection of an unbroken ocean. It was a strange feeling, to be so tall and no taller. I thought: ‘if I were to live here, I’d forever be looking down at the rest of the world.’ Keya’s little head scans the ground at my feet before she joins me. I grit my teeth and ignore my knocking knees. The clouds had stood still as if they had stopped to watch and right then, it was hard to see how this moment could possibly end. Braying, restless braying shook me out of my reverie. The clamour of the fiendish contingent below us clashed violently against each other. Some were new challengers. Others hoped to reclaim the dignities they had lost up here. I raised my foot; ‘I am ready’. A hand gently pushes the small of my back. ‘No’ I thought. ‘I’m not ready at all.’ My bony bottom bounces off the sides of the slide to cheers from below. Keya laughs, and follows.
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Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Keya
Dread, is when I took step after endless step on the staircase of death. No. ‘Death’ is too extreme - ‘staircase of scattered limbs and self-esteems.’ The summit wasn’t far now yet it wasn’t getting any closer. My cousin Keya was behind me; her breath cooled my sun-blistered calves and I looked back at her. Her almond eyes and her thin lips came together in that customary way that moved anyone to her command. I turned back and took the steps two at a time, too quickly to think. Was the sky really this blue? When it isn’t crowded out by buildings, planes and industry it could be mistaken for the smiling reflection of an unbroken ocean. It was a strange feeling, to be so tall and no taller. I thought: ‘if I were to live here, I’d forever be looking down at the rest of the world.’ Keya’s little head scans the ground at my feet before she joins me. I grit my teeth and ignore my knocking knees. The clouds had stood still as if they had stopped to watch and right then, it was hard to see how this moment could possibly end. Braying, restless braying shook me out of my reverie. The clamour of the fiendish contingent below us clashed violently against each other. Some were new challengers. Others hoped to reclaim the dignities they had lost up here. I raised my foot; ‘I am ready’. A hand gently pushes the small of my back. ‘No’ I thought. ‘I’m not ready at all.’ My bony bottom bounces off the sides of the slide to cheers from below. Keya laughs, and follows.
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28
Stranger than me, or too much alike some wrangle upon toilet papers plastic cups out of place or lost time; peering past, another wanders on. Tinkling wires and rainbow faces hearing, seeing, perchance aurific speaking the namer among ten-thousand petty things or squinting upon the verge of time, espy a sequal. Step by step to round the universe or being fell-swept away in cubboards seem or act unseemly, like or dislike played to the order in the round, circling about. Why so familiar these drabbed tones of ant trumpets or wineskins grown old to leak and sputter? Tis the wish and will, holding like ****** to the ropes great gales n frothing nothingnes storming on. But We, blown upon the Aether of the Soul a great conquest of rousing dignities; here, under nooks, behind secret doors or bounding past, lightning speed, relay some wonder. Shock of waking, or dulcet tones in the Alarm of life our shadows twist, there on the lintel of private hours our care, held through the Night kinder endearments then danced over reeling waves for sweet inspection. Here unalone a look, a voice and laughter ring the ears a crying out, or trebled inward sigh, too close to trembling- Who is this Sojourn Friend? Perhaps our best of self combined no more allied to faithless days nor dark an empty smiles- strange wastes some carelessness invents to wrack the hours. But We, no stranger to the Sojourner's faith, Are One.
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Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
Sojourner, Strange as Me...
I know, you know That I know, to look beyond the obscure dignities, they're deceptions rooted in loss created to alleviate the weight of your entire being, You cannot deceive me Because your soul is beautiful and pure, This is the source of your true power
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Jul 9, 2023
Jul 9, 2023 at 12:52 AM UTC
I know
hot cheeks burning tears salty and sweet run like wildfires burning off the undergrowth chasing woodland creatures down to the streams someday, we won't remember this passion drained us so sweet clear the pathways ravage all the fields burn down the bridges pull down all the monuments someday, we won't remember this souls entwined as lovers brought down to her knees drained of all blood stripped of dignities laid bare to each but never felt so free *i don't care what's right or wrong, i won't try to understand. let the devil take tomorrow lord tonight I need a friend* light the match, stoke the heat feel the burning (no one here will get out of this alive) and, someday, we won't remember this...
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Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
someday, we won't remember this
Rebellion isn't death-defying. No, it is the scythe itself: the keen edge of derision sharpened by subversion, tested by disadvantage. Down with the patriarch but if you can't beat him join him betray him enslave him... Never ask: is he the problem? Each patriarchy is a tower of tradition; each brick: another tower; each cell: another tower, imprisoning dignities and dignitaries of fairer facade or form? Fair would mean equal but no man is made equal, so why debase to elevate why elevate to debase? Down with the patriarch! His ways have blinded us. He asks too much. Let us remake him, that relic of bygone era. Is power not what it is... to be human? No, it is not. Love is that identity. It is the total pleasure it is the pain elixir it is hidden beyond greed. Greed for control. Freedom is not control Freedom is comfort for one, truthfully, is only ever not free when one is in pain. So yes, destroy the patriarch, but don't destroy the man.
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Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
Towers Within Towers...
O, the echoes of dignity! It doesn't have any stature, O, the echoes of dignity! It doesn't have any pictures! O, the echoes of dignity! It doesn't have any color! O, the echoes of dignity! It holds no position. Such is the echo of dignity. O, the echoes of dignity! They resonate deeply in every layer of our expectations! There are many problematic shadows. But one can feel the presence of ways to repent and make things right! But beware! The softness always wants to protect from the bitterness of guilt while one still wants to repent, whereas my struggling mode strives to seek the balance between these impulses. I know it is the world of ragging dignities of so many people who sometimes listen to their inner voices or don't! O, the echoes of dignity! I want to feel the quest for the quality of freedom and the responsibility of freedom, for one can be amidst adversity and gain victory against all the fearful demons of compromising odds! ©shivpoetesspriya
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Sep 27, 2023
Sep 27, 2023 at 11:13 AM UTC
The echoes of dignity!
Remember what happened in that black 98 battered souls, bruised dignities, blackened eyes fallacies, conspiracies no apology, no sympathy but this is David and Goliath don't you remember, like eighteen years ago except for its atrocities and ridiculosities. Dad, you inflicted this on me, you should have known that the wheel doesn't stop rolling.
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Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC
Black 98
Providence the dreadful mystery; The impeccable dignities and places Sweep in spirals, from the sand; that blowed And licked at your feet The world Conceived before those hills Foot-fast; Look, where He strove to get at.
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Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 12:57 AM UTC
Providence
There's a problem with Our powers Worldwide Weapons on patrol Posturing with our patriotic fist Controlling foreign soils (souls) Competition with the big dogs China on the rise Vladimir Putin is being so **** nice No needs for anyone to die! While here (In the states) Simple basic dignities Are at there all time low's Even our basic health cares Have become Death panels roles And don't look at our boarder The place we've dropped the ball A bunch of freedom's nationalist Shaped by our own fear's cause! Guns, guns, guns Shooting everyone Welcome to America Look what we've become!
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Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
DAILY NOTES
Wait for it. Our brilliant extinction, we've figured something out, and expand, go forth, take it, cherish and entitlement to dignity, however never superiority, virtue is present in every hedonist, and every holy man has a hard appentige that is ready to burst, re fluidity of philosophers and the hypo **** of artists, reaching out for truth and finding death, artists seeking out death and finding love and bursting with the stars, the relative dignities am take hold and we decide and the breaking point, between defeat, surrender and the possibilities, the senses being able to detect the grass growing, our ears finding the correlations of melodies but sifting and uniqueness comes through and always shines, we are careful of black and white thinkjng but then suddenly the truth is illuminated, we must bust our chains! Take what is ours!  And history will recycle, to hell with libear progression, let our ecosystems battle and let gray area be black and white, our brilliant departure from where we started, born with eyes wide open, without limitation
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
Surrender! Surrender!
The North Country calls to those few who search for each other. They’ve trekked far and long through poverty, apathy, tireless addictions to find a place that takes their hands and holds them softly and coaxes the needles from their arms and bandages old wounds now infected and kisses their lips like the first time again and says that there are better things to be had than heartache and misery. They have found their home in the North high above all things where they were lead by a hunch that told them that they would find each other there. The others. Those few who feel the meat of life in their flesh, flavorful and juicy with humanity, emotion, and healthy discontentment. They smell the scent of existence and experience in their nerves, tingling with peppermint sensations and awareness. And in their bones is a thing or two more: A strength that houses their curious souls and replenishes dignities before sending them onto their next spiritual expedition. They have skeletons that rattle with the purest rhythms of an entity, bones that drum a beat more constant than heart. There are parties waiting for them in their marrow where they will find the river of unlimited knowledge and friendship and ***** that was truly always coursing through their veins. I cannot wait to ride that beautiful river and be so full and so satisfied.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
Due North (edit)
We live in an age where we can easily decline viable offers because we think that we are above them This easy accessible word: "no" Has saved lives, dignities and cultures But as the saying goes things should be taken in moderation Sometimes saying, "no," to life isn't in your best interest Life must take it's course and the only way that can happen is if we acknowledge the efforts made by others before we so easily reject them One day you will realize that the glass ceiling you have so carefully made for yourself, is broken And you will have to rebuild your shelter with new materials In that moment try not to decline what has already happened Because if you aren't sure of the past how can you be sure about the future?
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
Glass Ceiling
Wake up time/ by me..,,, Your statued liberty will collapse oh dire nation! For where is your station? On CNN or ABC? MSN turned TNT! Explosions to come, children will run to tower's of pure inferno! Mourn them, mourn you, for you shall have a box nailed next to theirs! Do you not scare? To witness evil dignities? For all pains turn pity to doped hallucinations! Clean out your ***** tracks you smoked up and cracked out! For terror and doubt will be men's own making! Sinful lust in the making! No not Hollywood, only misunderstood to anthem of star spangled sinner! Unloosen your chain's you slave to what is! Whats wrong !? Not hearing clearly? Potent venom will stricken the veins of rich and poor alike, where no love yet all strife will come with your new order! Form shut up your bowels the same as your borders, the bombs are bound to cross in!!! Nations split to perplexity! No smiling, all grins! Wake out of the dust you sleepy time dreamers, you new age and young pheners, you protest the wrong things! For you will be startled as a thief to the night! Its happening already! No Freddy Krueger story, no living, all deathly!!!tensionatic visions have been for told, for copper does not stay gold in a world to be swept!
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May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
wake up time
Where is that daunting monster Boogie man in life’s shadow Master mentor and concierge Whose touch I’ve come to know To you I’ll waste no breath Beauty is not long and septic My daunting docent of death Midwife to misery, work quick What small dignities remain Strung of vomiting seconds Cultures a pearl of great pain To ferry a man of no direction
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 9:42 AM UTC
“Hard Crossing”
The sea quarrels with its maker Twisting and turning Hunching heaps of gravel Onto the dry sand. Life fights out its dignities ***** and hand Leaving trembling What was given and planned. Love Mary
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
Dignity
They strip me of my dignities. Time steals treasured memories. Stress ages with wrinkles and ulcers. No new faith just tarnished alters, majestic dreams cannot sustain. I falter in the throes of this pain, stand trembling, stumbling in vain. I cannot remain the same. Fallen family and friends disappear moving up on and out of here. In the end I lose it all; dying with no angel wings to bring me to them.
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
Untitled