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"discoverer" poems
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
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14.2k
A Song Of Despair
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
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58
This salt in the saltcellar I once saw in the salt mines. I know you won't believe me, but it sings, salt sings, the skin of the salt mines sings with a mouth smothered by the earth. I shivered in those solitudes when I heard the voice of the salt in the desert. Near Antofagasta the nitrous pampa resounds: a broken voice, a mournful song. In its caves the salt moans, mountain of buried light, translucent cathedral, crystal of the sea, oblivion of the waves. And then on every table in the world, salt, we see your piquant powder sprinkling vital light upon our food. Preserver of the ancient holds of ships, discoverer on the high seas, earliest sailor of the unknown, shifting byways of the foam. Dust of the sea, in you the tongue receives a kiss from ocean night: taste imparts to every seasoned dish your ocean essence; the smallest, miniature wave from the saltcellar reveals to us more than domestic whiteness; in it, we taste infinitude.
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12.3k
Ode To Salt
*with a discovery of symmetrical elegance.. beauty in pattern fresh from asymmetry.. Astonishment of simplicity Why had discovery not leaped before..? then in elation discoverer declares proof is irrelevant Elegance is all sufficient imperative Truth...*
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Elegance
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! I, the goddess of love & beauty, will Make sure to the fullest that no one can **** The charming Adonis who makes me feel Great beyond any ****** that’s real Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! I, as the discoverer of this beautiful creature so rare Is the first beholder of his countenance so fair It is I who granted him the first unmatched care The kind of caress he will acquire only in my lair Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! His refuge in me never has the stench of death It’s just like everyday he experiences rebirth ‘Coz there I can render him the greatest of health Beauty & youth of flesh beyond any mirth Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! Be vigilant towards the welfare of Adonis, my delight His bulging muscles are proofs of his radiant might So alluring to any mortal & immortal sight No one can also equal his handsome face so bright Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! That beauty of his can only be cherished In my realm where beauty never goes blemished The place that all mortals have ever wished There the bright sun will keep his body nourished Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! Adonis’ beauty is not fit for the home of the dead He is so vibrant from foot to head Remove him from Hades! To my haven, instead! There he will be nourished by life-giving bread! -02/10/2015 (Dumarao) *Hopelessly Immortal Collection
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Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:52 PM UTC
Aphrodite’s Petition to Regain Adonis
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! I, the goddess of love & beauty, will Make sure to the fullest that no one can **** The charming Adonis who makes me feel Great beyond any ****** that’s real Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! I, as the discoverer of this beautiful creature so rare Is the first beholder of his countenance so fair It is I who granted him the first unmatched care The kind of caress he will acquire only in my lair Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! His refuge in me never has the stench of death It’s just like everyday he experiences rebirth ‘Coz there I can render him the greatest of health Beauty & youth of flesh beyond any mirth Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! Be vigilant towards the welfare of Adonis, my delight His bulging muscles are proofs of his radiant might So alluring to any mortal & immortal sight No one can also equal his handsome face so bright Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! That beauty of his can only be cherished In my realm where beauty never goes blemished The place that all mortals have ever wished There the bright sun will keep his body nourished Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis! Adonis’ beauty is not fit for the home of the dead He is so vibrant from foot to head Remove him from Hades! To my haven, instead! There he will be nourished by life-giving bread! -02/10/2015 (Dumarao) *Hopelessly Immortal Collection
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33
Once upon a time there was an Italian, And some people thought he was a rapscallion, But he wasn't offended, Because other people thought he was splendid, And he said the world was round, And everybody made an uncomplimentary sound, But he went and tried to borrow some money from Ferdinand But Ferdinand said America was a bird in the bush and he'd rather have a berdinand, But Columbus' brain was fertile, it wasn't arid, And he remembered that Ferdinand was married, And he thought, there is no wife like a misunderstood one, Because if her husband thinks something is a terrible idea she is bound to think it a good one, So he perfumed his handkerchief with bay *** and citronella, And he went to see Isabella, And he looked wonderful but he had never felt sillier, And she said, I can't place the face but the aroma is familiar, And Columbus didn't say a word, All he said was, I am Columbus, the fifteenth-century Admiral Byrd, And, just as he thought, her disposition was very malleable, And she said, Here are my jewels, and she wasn't penurious like Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, she wasn't referring to her children, no, she was referring to her jewels, which were very very valuable, So Columbus said, Somebody show me the sunset and somebody did and he set sail for it, And he discovered America and they put him in jail for it, And the fetters gave him welts, And they named America after somebody else, So the sad fate of Columbus ought to be pointed out to every child and every voter, Because it has a very important moral, which is, Don't be a discoverer, be a promoter.
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3.3k
Columbus
Once upon a time there was an Italian, And some people thought he was a rapscallion, But he wasn't offended, Because other people thought he was splendid, And he said the world was round, And everybody made an uncomplimentary sound, But he went and tried to borrow some money from Ferdinand But Ferdinand said America was a bird in the bush and he'd rather have a berdinand, But Columbus' brain was fertile, it wasn't arid, And he remembered that Ferdinand was married, And he thought, there is no wife like a misunderstood one, Because if her husband thinks something is a terrible idea she is bound to think it a good one, So he perfumed his handkerchief with bay *** and citronella, And he went to see Isabella, And he looked wonderful but he had never felt sillier, And she said, I can't place the face but the aroma is familiar, And Columbus didn't say a word, All he said was, I am Columbus, the fifteenth-century Admiral Byrd, And, just as he thought, her disposition was very malleable, And she said, Here are my jewels, and she wasn't penurious like Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, she wasn't referring to her children, no, she was referring to her jewels, which were very very valuable, So Columbus said, Somebody show me the sunset and somebody did and he set sail for it, And he discovered America and they put him in jail for it, And the fetters gave him welts, And they named America after somebody else, So the sad fate of Columbus ought to be pointed out to every child and every voter, Because it has a very important moral, which is, Don't be a discoverer, be a promoter.
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26
beard-red explorers pillaging-horror practitioners tribal-family groups insurgent-nomadic roots that trailed wave-rammers across never-ending spans, continuously-toilfully matters not the demands women and men side by each beastly-feasters no table safe stand up for yourself or be a weak-waif in the bloodshot soul-panes, fierce pagan-purveyors by rites despised-womanizers siege-setters monk-murderers a blood-spilling bee treasure trove crash n’carry Thor had his hammer every wave-rammer had an oar for every pair of life-stained hands, the stains were borrowed and the very life-drained out of others blood-smitten berserkers, heart-stoppers and yet discoverer’s children wandering wet-wilderness found a Stormy-Stop, a few actually, and one be Newfoundland may-haps they settled in peace.
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Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
Family-first a tale-Twisted
~ the word flows off the tongue with ease; say it softly... slowly please, ...dis-co-ver-y... disclosure of illusory, pursuit of the elusory; the uncovering of buried secrets, dark and deep, quiet whispers, soft and sweet; an unveiling of the here-to-fore unknown, illuminating darkened hallways, where footsteps lead us to a place where all is shown. in life it is the quest, explorer’s zeal that will not rest; in love it is the unknown song... to give it notes and lyrics, time and tune which leads to melody and harmony. in my time, adventures... i have known a few; have sought to parse the lines ’tween false and real. but no adventure will replace the one that beckons, outstretched finger, stares me solemn, in the face each morning ’fore the mirror; though the outer i may tend, it's the inner to consider; for to know oneself, a journey long, a venture of mountaineering magnitude, where the weak may hopeful start, but summiting rewards reserve remittance to those valiant souls, whose inner spirit strength imparts. ’tis not the heart, in love to conquer; but ’tis one’s trust instead, faith the mountain holds rope and feet steadfast, finish line within one's grasp. faith the flame will never die illuminate the corridors that lie behind the locks, the gates, the doors, that live inside one's head. to let another in this place of buried pain, of innocence gone by, where dreams once flourished, so oft lay dying, dead, this secret place where we reside the seat of all we were and are, again will one day be; this where needed trust, gently to encourage, carefully to nourish; these the fields of possibilities, of hope, beliefs, of budding dreams; to be uncovered, be unearthed, love’s encounter, tongues to loose, await the brave and wise, the strong discoverer, unafraid to learn the truth. ~ *post script. discovery... surprise not its intent, yet may be its greatest blessing, and accomplishment!   a favorite blessing of mine to bestow on marrying couples, "may your discovery of each other, never end, or fail to delight; and return to you the wonder, of first love and of first sight and light!" to you, the reader, fellow sojourner, may you never cease to discover each other!*
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
discovery
~ the word flows off the tongue with ease; say it softly... slowly please, ...dis-co-ver-y... disclosure of illusory, pursuit of the elusory; the uncovering of buried secrets, dark and deep, quiet whispers, soft and sweet; an unveiling of the here-to-fore unknown, illuminating darkened hallways, where footsteps lead us to a place where all is shown. in life it is the quest, explorer’s zeal that will not rest; in love it is the unknown song... to give it notes and lyrics, time and tune which leads to melody and harmony. in my time, adventures... i have known a few; have sought to parse the lines ’tween false and real. but no adventure will replace the one that beckons, outstretched finger, stares me solemn, in the face each morning ’fore the mirror; though the outer i may tend, it's the inner to consider; for to know oneself, a journey long, a venture of mountaineering magnitude, where the weak may hopeful start, but summiting rewards reserve remittance to those valiant souls, whose inner spirit strength imparts. ’tis not the heart, in love to conquer; but ’tis one’s trust instead, faith the mountain holds rope and feet steadfast, finish line within one's grasp. faith the flame will never die illuminate the corridors that lie behind the locks, the gates, the doors, that live inside one's head. to let another in this place of buried pain, of innocence gone by, where dreams once flourished, so oft lay dying, dead, this secret place where we reside the seat of all we were and are, again will one day be; this where needed trust, gently to encourage, carefully to nourish; these the fields of possibilities, of hope, beliefs, of budding dreams; to be uncovered, be unearthed, love’s encounter, tongues to loose, await the brave and wise, the strong discoverer, unafraid to learn the truth. ~ *post script. discovery... surprise not its intent, yet may be its greatest blessing, and accomplishment!   a favorite blessing of mine to bestow on marrying couples, "may your discovery of each other, never end, or fail to delight; and return to you the wonder, of first love and of first sight and light!" to you, the reader, fellow sojourner, may you never cease to discover each other!*
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95
family intrigues were secreted in the closet there they stayed out of sight and out of mind keeping them under lock and key twas always thought best dragging them out for an airing wasn't a good idea but often intrigues slide from under the closet door there they are on display a slip of the tongue an old letter in a box things of the past no more interred and causing the discoverer shock and surprise the intrigues positioned under open skies
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
Family Intrigues (Metaphor Poem)
The Tower of success Is upon a mountain Which is surrounded by An ocean of strenuous efforts, Now see, there is also A divine light which Goes with a natural principle That every man needs Before getting up to the hill, With Tweaduampon on our side, We have been able to Make the Tower our home, Oh yes, only the black man Has the key to the Tower of Success Without fear and tears, We are the Africans, Leadership is our role And success if our hallmark, This eternal light is in you, And only the Blackman Can make you discover it, Come and support The course of Africa, And we shall make you A discoverer of excellence. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:10 AM UTC
TOWER OF SUCCESS
Drown yourself in the sound of music Feel your heartbeat slow down Hear that faint sound of the mess that you were in Let it all go, lover Feel swept off your feet this moment. Lose yourself in the ocean of silence Let your eyes do all the talking Creativity takes infinite courage To forsake the voices of environment Let it all go, dreamer Feel free to shed behind your fears. Discover yourself wandering in the forest of the unknown Let the music heal your wounds Keep walking till something makes you stop **** out of it the pleasure Let it all go, discoverer Feel the music running beneath your skin.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
Chords of Rawness.
Dubious: charge The deluxe program in. Obtuse angled and oblong animals. Mecca sexúal, discoverer pulling back the curtain tails in mimicry and peacockiness as the horizon shimmers itself out. Do not eschew unwieldy ostentation towards benign mid-weight colors in the sequel to Blahnik. Offers in the hesitant, peak winds of Southern-Hemispherical Antarctic weather barometer losses. The ice is like a hive of nameless blue lily pad vessels, each a different magical shade of the water's blue. She like the uncommon baroque grandeur in an hour of time, herself- Summons the immense symmetry of her elaborate lavender macramès sheath and entomb her skin, exploding across her body like milk-white daffodils draped upon a morning bow. Linseed and anise encompasses burnt sweet grass on the breadth of pine in a gentle pillow, anchored only by the veins of her red fruit nectar stitched at the grooves in her cool and unpunctuated lips. While anxiety numbing tufts of gentle satins wisp all the worry and turmoil away, pleasing every nerve, sensor, instinct, and exercise of glib humanity intertwined amid the pulse of our uncensored adultness. She glides amid the arcs of ebullient-molecules ribboned in winter synonyms, summoned up in her sensual and illustrious sublime, and the story of how like a horizon muted by organzas falling beneath her into that relationship she carries with her water God into something profound, immense, and totally ******* exquisite, yet beyond all imagining, she is always doing what has been the coolest **** ever to me. That becomes more magnificently indescribable like our amorous fire, incentivizing the luminous beauty of new stars to rush above us, and yet under us too, amidst the simple and perfected automany she so awesomely imbues. Until the minutes are silenced in our heads and the days are warm with you. For Sarah
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Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
Grand Design
Dubious: charge The deluxe program in. Obtuse angled and oblong animals. Mecca sexúal, discoverer pulling back the curtain tails in mimicry and peacockiness as the horizon shimmers itself out. Do not eschew unwieldy ostentation towards benign mid-weight colors in the sequel to Blahnik. Offers in the hesitant, peak winds of Southern-Hemispherical Antarctic weather barometer losses. The ice is like a hive of nameless blue lily pad vessels, each a different magical shade of the water's blue. She like the uncommon baroque grandeur in an hour of time, herself- Summons the immense symmetry of her elaborate lavender macramès sheath and entomb her skin, exploding across her body like milk-white daffodils draped upon a morning bow. Linseed and anise encompasses burnt sweet grass on the breadth of pine in a gentle pillow, anchored only by the veins of her red fruit nectar stitched at the grooves in her cool and unpunctuated lips. While anxiety numbing tufts of gentle satins wisp all the worry and turmoil away, pleasing every nerve, sensor, instinct, and exercise of glib humanity intertwined amid the pulse of our uncensored adultness. She glides amid the arcs of ebullient-molecules ribboned in winter synonyms, summoned up in her sensual and illustrious sublime, and the story of how like a horizon muted by organzas falling beneath her into that relationship she carries with her water God into something profound, immense, and totally ******* exquisite, yet beyond all imagining, she is always doing what has been the coolest **** ever to me. That becomes more magnificently indescribable like our amorous fire, incentivizing the luminous beauty of new stars to rush above us, and yet under us too, amidst the simple and perfected automany she so awesomely imbues. Until the minutes are silenced in our heads and the days are warm with you. For Sarah
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7
Looked for you the other day Looked for you-ooh the other day So sorry, couldn't find you So sorry, couldn't find you.... Still feel so bad, how could this be? We really once were so close! I know you'd say....hey, it's ok I know you'd say.... hey, man, it's ok Cos I'm not there at all No, I'm not there at all ! I'm somewhere else, someday you'll see Yeah, you ALWAYS had to go first! Diaz, the discoverer! Always searching Looking and finding things That others NEVER see...... S T,  02  June  2013
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Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
Discoverer
An observer of life You notice The small native flowers Sprouting by the roadside The skink sun baking on the rock At parties You find a group in animated conversation Hover at its edges Nod, smile Appearing to join in No keeper of small talk Watching Taking it all in Making a mental note Of snippets worth bottling A discoverer of ideas For words to come together Later In a dance Within the privacy of your own pen Silently you turn them into A melody Into poetry
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
The watcher
My soul is an ocean and you've dived into it deep Ignoring no little thing you see discovering all that I have deep down within me You got me to realize the purpose of a mate with whom one can share a soul as antique as that of mine You swam deeper and deeper and deeper until you've conquered the whole of me This body was mine and now it is all yours This soul was mine but now we share it , of course Dear Savior, dear discoverer I have loved you for a million years and I shall do so for a million more.
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
Speechless.
I've tucked my dreams away in a time capsule. For certain, they will be better use to someone in the future. Though in all likelihood, they may never be found, for I have told no one where they have been buried and shan't offer a clue. In the capsule, far under the darkness of dirt, should one happen upon it, they will find obscure memories along with those dreams. Just tokens they are, recapturing happy times, made of clay and paint, spell ridden for a future discoverer.  These knick-knacks are sure to have power, as no intention I have ever had has been greater than what was formed in those whatnots. You've seen bric-a-brac shelved, gather dust, and finally find themselves wrapped in tissue paper, inside a shoebox stowed in an attic and forgotten. Then one day they are rediscovered by another generation, who is charmed by their quaintness. They are dusted off and put on a shelf again, until sadness bearing that memory requires them to be sold at some yard sale or donated to a thrift store. I can not see this for my whatnots. To me they are too precious to leave in the hands of those close to me now. I won't have them sobbed over. That is the reason they have been buried. And should a certain someone find them in the course of time, may they only know their dreams fulfilled, by a time capsule that stewed long enough to design newer wonder of whatnot.
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC
Whatnot
A companion poem to: When Love Grows Old [1] a differing perspective, liking the eye opening view this occluded, cloudy closed Saturday, a morning gray, early days, it comes with opportunities aplenty & new word combinations in a new world awaiting a Magellan I spy discoverer, and we two have more than 150 years existence tween us and that makes me grin, because I anointed her to a new position yesterday: Chief Technology Officer the very expensive machine that supplies us with energizing fresh plasma, clean blood invigorating, without which we could nary drag our antiquated bodies to the next day, got on the phone, dialed an 800 number, stuck het hand deep into it's gizzard innards, and released the machina from it looping flashing display of displaying its non-cooperation and its message that It was unwell, abd she operated, and made out coffee machine well again snd gave us this Sabbath, a reason to be thankful having righted this left footed poet to a younger poet boy~man again, a gain!
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Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
When love grows young
You will never bridge the chasm Or know the greatest depth Of an unleashed soul's sole passion Nor find what gives it breath It's fed by an unknown catalyst, That urges onward total war, And loses it's very own battles, Battles it's lost before. And though you start with armor, And resolve in your facade, You will only descend halfway, Then retrace the steps you trod. But do not feel disheartened, For you are not the first who's tried, And failed upon this journey, Who has turned to run and hide. And the soul discoverer, rest assured, He will find no treasure bin, Just an ugly face and a twisted mind, And a broken heart within.
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Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 6:03 PM UTC
The Lost Battle
Almond eyes that reflected wonders Wonders shrouded by secretive lids An observer's curiosity Natural hunger for new discoveries Turns into susceptibility Mysterious orbs that captivates Soon imprisons the observer And scrutinizes every fiber, depth Every inch of the said existence Then it targets the soul It bares the vulnerable soul Of all its grandiose Of all its mendacity Of all the masks that ever concealed its true identity Every scar, gingerly uncovered Every tear, pellucidly explained And for once, tables have been turned The discoverer, the explorer Was the one discovered The one exhaustively explored
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
A Discoverer's Ill Fate
Malignant gangrenous political cancer corrupts, festers, and poisons United States, thus opposition cannot wait, especially since Gospel in accordance with feeble minded Donald Trump implemented wrought ugly trait, particularly obliteration, sans progressive human rights legislation more or less pronounced positive in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state and ratiocination inherent within mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate this forty fifth president (defect) with sawdust packing his noodle oven egotistical pate trophy wife (spouse number three), a Slovenia mate donning "I don't care anymore" t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late essentially silently corroborating, fostering, and illuminating hate mutely bolstering the Trump anthem, viz make America great again, which pathless, pithless, and pointless aim roars like an earsplitting runaway freight train oblivious of wailing soul asylum, that no era meets said criteria backtracking time machine before rightful indigenous occupants of this land got decimated as one after another exploiter did inundate (comprising a multitude of indigenous variety of village people indignantly subjected to Genocide, when first "discoverer" of new land didst promulgate activation wrought deliberate sealed fate vis a vis capitulation, demolition, and extirpation, cuz a scathing rebuke aye attest, those murderers didst equate worthlessness of so called "Indians" on 1492 date, and still remnants of storied tribes, now attempt to create historical documentation operate ting with limited resources to adjudicate. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog posts, a falsehood prevails which dog gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant upperclass experienced autonomy, no matter the under class didst futilely rant and rave with the occasional uprisings over time did grant minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
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Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
The Propagation Of Hate
Malignant gangrenous political cancer corrupts, festers, and poisons United States, thus opposition cannot wait, especially since Gospel in accordance with feeble minded Donald Trump implemented wrought ugly trait, particularly obliteration, sans progressive human rights legislation more or less pronounced positive in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state and ratiocination inherent within mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate this forty fifth president (defect) with sawdust packing his noodle oven egotistical pate trophy wife (spouse number three), a Slovenia mate donning "I don't care anymore" t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late essentially silently corroborating, fostering, and illuminating hate mutely bolstering the Trump anthem, viz make America great again, which pathless, pithless, and pointless aim roars like an earsplitting runaway freight train oblivious of wailing soul asylum, that no era meets said criteria backtracking time machine before rightful indigenous occupants of this land got decimated as one after another exploiter did inundate (comprising a multitude of indigenous variety of village people indignantly subjected to Genocide, when first "discoverer" of new land didst promulgate activation wrought deliberate sealed fate vis a vis capitulation, demolition, and extirpation, cuz a scathing rebuke aye attest, those murderers didst equate worthlessness of so called "Indians" on 1492 date, and still remnants of storied tribes, now attempt to create historical documentation operate ting with limited resources to adjudicate. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog posts, a falsehood prevails which dog gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant upperclass experienced autonomy, no matter the under class didst futilely rant and rave with the occasional uprisings over time did grant minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
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Bend and twisted beyond recognition but hardly broken A resilient soul that weathers the eastern storms You are the seeker of inspirational thought Finding pieces discarded by the hopeless and helpless A discoverer of minuscule wisdom, you make it yours And you share its obscure meaning and summon the light For many years, the numerous have seen you a far off Like perched eagles, they seek the opportunistic **** As they strive to entangle and captivate your soul You will suffer with the endless disappointments One day, you prefer death to the infinite fight And when all is lost, you find the passage that will Lift you from hell into heaven and restart the cycle
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Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
The Endless Cycle
Be a discoverer, Seek first what is inside you, And thou shall find abundance of treasure. 3/2/2021
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Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 12:27 AM UTC
Inside You
I am falling into a blue hole in my soul full of the sea descending this emotional deepscape so far under my knowing makes of me a wanderer -- a discoverer -- of my abyssal, hidden soulsea thus it is, to be untethered falling to magical places where deepwater hot springs bloom falling into deep water where grow corals and vent animals odd, rare species unknown to me the soul pressure --- intense the soulwater --- murky and warm the soul life --- lit from within c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
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Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
blue hole
A diatribe in the making... The demon gods of pathos By d. Clare Preface The mind is a mysterious realm where emotions are stored and collected churning out controlling our moods emotions and Feelings overwhelming us creating joy or rage. I hate you I love you? Where do all the demon s come from. The two kinds of minds in most are either reactive or responsive thinking. "Most people would rather die than think." Bertrand Russell Reality being subjective requires daily choices. If one decides to drop out of school, quit ones job, go shopping, its all about choices. Some people like to live in the country while most prefer the city. stress is damage to the nervous system where no mytosis exists. Sigmund Freud was the modern day discoverer of psychosis. " Most people are psychotically misinformed stingy with their time love and attention overemphasizing their importance to the universe." Buddha was born in 662 BC In India. He suggested that what we see in others is actually what we see in ourselves. Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
the demon gods of pathos
The world does not want one more poet activist crying out against all injustice. The world does not want a moral philosopher plunging the depths of the lies we tell ourselves, discarding illusions, and barely overcoming confusion to become a better human being. The world does not want another hopeless romantic faithful lover, god under the covers, explorer, and discoverer of all untraveled depths that women possess. This world does not want me and I am almost okay with that.
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 6:40 PM UTC
Does Not Want