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"discreet" poems
Starbucks for the beach sleeper, cigarettes for the cruise ship worker, around the world a further three times more with a six-a-day job, one on shore. She smiled with Gatsby glare. She smiled with fair, tied back hair. She smiled. And how her love for Poe and Wilde found its way to my ear a mere three year veer around time itself. Turkish delight is not a food nor a sweet but a lady who gives a discreet smile to those she meets. My cafe in my street has you across from me and the books I read have you printed in an uppercase key, black on the white and bound by the spine for you are the cruise ship lady, the lover of mine.
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Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
STARBUCKS ON THE ROCKS. WHISKY IN THE CUPS
CLASSIFIED! Those discreet facets of our organization have not yet been sanctioned for public effulgence.
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
How many Illuminati does it take to change a lightbulb?
She laughed like a Furbie With broken voice box Somehow digital and shrill (Low bitrate ***** ) All discreet ones and zeros(um) game I know how to fix her with Aqueous solution seed Fry her circuits like LSD Bring down Skynet With my ****
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Seed
(co-written by Sharon Robinson) Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows that the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows that the boat is leaking Everybody knows the captain lied Everybody got this broken feeling Like their father or their dog just died Everybody talking to their pockets Everybody wants a box of chocolates And a long stem rose Everybody knows Everybody knows that you love me baby Everybody knows that you really do Everybody knows that you've been faithful Ah give or take a night or two Everybody knows you've been discreet But there were so many people you just had to meet Without your clothes And everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows And everybody knows that it's now or never Everybody knows that it's me or you And everybody knows that you live forever Ah when you've done a line or two Everybody knows the deal is rotten Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton For your ribbons and bows And everybody knows And everybody knows that the Plague is coming Everybody knows that it's moving fast Everybody knows that the naked man and woman Are just a shining artifact of the past Everybody knows the scene is dead But there's gonna be a meter on your bed That will disclose What everybody knows And everybody knows that you're in trouble Everybody knows what you've been through From the ****** cross on top of Calvary To the beach of Malibu Everybody knows it's coming apart Take one last look at this Sacred Heart Before it blows And everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows Oh everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows
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7.1k
Everybody Knows
(co-written by Sharon Robinson) Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows that the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows that the boat is leaking Everybody knows the captain lied Everybody got this broken feeling Like their father or their dog just died Everybody talking to their pockets Everybody wants a box of chocolates And a long stem rose Everybody knows Everybody knows that you love me baby Everybody knows that you really do Everybody knows that you've been faithful Ah give or take a night or two Everybody knows you've been discreet But there were so many people you just had to meet Without your clothes And everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows And everybody knows that it's now or never Everybody knows that it's me or you And everybody knows that you live forever Ah when you've done a line or two Everybody knows the deal is rotten Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton For your ribbons and bows And everybody knows And everybody knows that the Plague is coming Everybody knows that it's moving fast Everybody knows that the naked man and woman Are just a shining artifact of the past Everybody knows the scene is dead But there's gonna be a meter on your bed That will disclose What everybody knows And everybody knows that you're in trouble Everybody knows what you've been through From the ****** cross on top of Calvary To the beach of Malibu Everybody knows it's coming apart Take one last look at this Sacred Heart Before it blows And everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows Oh everybody knows, everybody knows That's how it goes Everybody knows Everybody knows
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62
Oversharing on your social feed Everyone knows your wants and needs Save for those who really care To the rest of us you need not bear Your lunch and dinner were had, we see Relationship status updated several times a week How can it be? I remember a day we shared with ourselves Worries and whims on paper with pen In a book called a journal or diary it would have been Discreet it was then As it should be again I can't wait for the sharing to end.
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Discreet
(The sound of breathing) I am the air / unseen a breath underneath                   the rush                   the coffee                   the traffic on concrete streets I am lifting the dirt                   the grime                    the dust polluting us I am adding wings to the speed of your feet to where your dreams may meet I am the sigh in your quivering lungs inside your heart                   such self defeat when you concede to its deceit / disease / cease to breathe never to notice me or listen to our song Time’s Wind chimes a summer's relief / a breeze strides along cooling your face from the heat Do not say you blame it all on me Don't say I'm the purpose                     the reason or                  the space between Wound of flesh, lips compulsive kiss The mindless lies Loss of will between the heart & the eyes unable and refusing to see It’s why our love retreats Dagger / plunged the deathblow a quick hands woes A heartless man goes so neat and clean so discreet hiding in the bleak uncaring so... I am the air    you never notice me touching            your sorrow             your skin yet never being / your glee invisible that is how despair begins I am the air / unseen waiting for you to care                         to notice                          to open eyes, see! I am the air, here / with you a friend that is always there invisible waiting to be / seen. do you notice me? (The sound of breathing) A heart is beating. Lub Dub Lub Dub Did you notice The life we misbelieve … Us The invisible Unbecoming Unloved
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Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 5:29 AM UTC
The Invisible 1
(The sound of breathing) I am the air / unseen a breath underneath                   the rush                   the coffee                   the traffic on concrete streets I am lifting the dirt                   the grime                    the dust polluting us I am adding wings to the speed of your feet to where your dreams may meet I am the sigh in your quivering lungs inside your heart                   such self defeat when you concede to its deceit / disease / cease to breathe never to notice me or listen to our song Time’s Wind chimes a summer's relief / a breeze strides along cooling your face from the heat Do not say you blame it all on me Don't say I'm the purpose                     the reason or                  the space between Wound of flesh, lips compulsive kiss The mindless lies Loss of will between the heart & the eyes unable and refusing to see It’s why our love retreats Dagger / plunged the deathblow a quick hands woes A heartless man goes so neat and clean so discreet hiding in the bleak uncaring so... I am the air    you never notice me touching            your sorrow             your skin yet never being / your glee invisible that is how despair begins I am the air / unseen waiting for you to care                         to notice                          to open eyes, see! I am the air, here / with you a friend that is always there invisible waiting to be / seen. do you notice me? (The sound of breathing) A heart is beating. Lub Dub Lub Dub Did you notice The life we misbelieve … Us The invisible Unbecoming Unloved
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75
I have two persona with very different duality, I have too extreme of a personality, And I have a hard time expressing myself to your factuality. Only veiled my discreet personal past with thin layers of exclamation, To diverge, veer, or in discrete my own expression. To die within my own words to save my honor, Or to stay translucent to dye my tongue in fake color. For I have failed myself in becoming true to my belief, For eye to eye I can't seem to meet any sort of relief, Are these my real eyes point of view, Or have I realized I been dreaming of you, Or were they simply all real lies of my personal skew? This desire to raise your understanding, But your voice raze my defense to oblivion, And heavenly rays depart like the moons with wolf howl with your gaze! Was there nothing of me that sparkled to your kindred spirit, Was I that loathing of your presence to lose your smile? No matter as past are like the whim of a sail, I Know that happiness has no sale. Believe me when I say I want you to be happy, But my hunger to eat this precious apple pie will hurt me more, Much more than my desire to be fit like those men in commercials. Sorry possibly good looking ads, But I must cheat on you for good! Those eight pies, I ate them with pride and prejudice! For my temptation was hubris!
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
Temptress Pride and all Hubris!
Sarcasm Discreet words confuse, Hidden phrased ruse, Foolish trickery, Ridiculous mimicry, Idiotic comprehension, Obvious ironic intention. --JacobDexterCoffey--
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Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
"Sarcasm"
She moves those hips hypnotically As she smiles through her slender long fingers Speaking with her big beautiful onyx-black eyes Ah, Will you just look at her grace? Her saree painted rich brass With amber brown motif on the edges Heavy indian anklets adorn her ankles Her skin so golden on which sunshine sketches. Glorious, every little move she makes Flamboyant, her mehendi feet, the way they part and meet All the energy any strong man can have, Reflected in her elegant femine beauty, sincere and discreet. Like a goddess, she holds her head high And showers you with her immortal blessings When she gets down the stage with a humble smile You'd exclaim "paradise on earth" with a sigh.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
The Indian Dancer
She was a Hatfield And I  a McCoy It was just love beween A girl and a boy Our daddies grandaddies And those from before Might think us irreverant To open that door She lived two towns over It was love at first sight.... We would slip out and meet Every Sat. night The neighbors all thought It just wasn't right But we were in love And it wasn't our fight Only two counties apart She lived in West V My home was Kentucky The suitor was me To us it was foolish The feud was so old Even though it was famous From the tales that were told She lived two towns over It was love at first sight.... We would slip out and meet Every Sat. night The neighbors all thought It just wasn't right But we were in love And it wasn't our fight We'd meet after dark At a barn down the line We were not feuding people For that night she was mine We would run off together After school was complete We'd change both our names We would be real discreet She lived two towns over It was love at first sight.... We would slip out and meet Every Sat. night The neighbors all thought It just wasn't right But we were in love And it wasn't our fight Our folks would reject us And spoil our joy Cause here was a Hatfield With a real McCoy For now, we'll be secret Share our love cross the fence And we'll wait till our kin folk Wake up with some sense
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Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:15 PM UTC
The Hatfields and McCoys
Your love begs the release of this immunity. You see,despite my growing ****** I remain an oddity.
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Discreet(First Stanza)
The spider Queen, aloofly vain! She rules a silent ruthless reign, with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain that damp the depths of her demesne. . . . A spider spins, with nimble feet, a sticky web of grim deceit that drapes the corners, dark, discreet, in catacombs of her retreat. Her jointed legs (in number, eight) traverse the threads with stilted gait, but often more she'll lie in wait within the hub of her estate. Shy spiders live their lives alone ensconced within a silky throne; unless a transient guest comes flown, their lives bide empty, monotone. . . Well, now and then, a sullen breeze may twitch the toils, begin to tease – yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas, so patience's bid at times like these. But then again, when stars ignite, may maunder by a gnat, by night, be taught a dance, a writhing rite, within a lace of death, wrapped tight. Sometimes a spider's in the mood and waits awhile, whilst being wooed – and then, to later feed her brood, the widow slays her mate for food. In time a spider dies, 'tis true, bequeathing but a residue entwined, devoid of retinue, in fibers decked in silver dew. . . . One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT – to feed and make the spider fat? Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that within a mindless habitat. . . "Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire, “at the heart of MAN's desire. To which goals should WE aspire reaching high and reaching higher?" We've, through the ages, left the mire, trundling wheels and taming fire, doing deeds that must inspire, nursing needy, calming crier, … Such things as these, most may admire: - placid dove and war defier (some are bolder, some are shyer) - patience (mess-up mollifier); - humankind (Life's justifier) - charity (charmed self-denier) - tolerance (proud pacifier ) - love of Life (folk unifier). What more could we, as flesh, require? Needless kneeling neath the spire? Childish chanting in the choir? Preaching hell's impending pyre? No, Death's the only rectifier, comes the instant we expire, nothing after, sentience prior. So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
The Gnat
The spider Queen, aloofly vain! She rules a silent ruthless reign, with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain that damp the depths of her demesne. . . . A spider spins, with nimble feet, a sticky web of grim deceit that drapes the corners, dark, discreet, in catacombs of her retreat. Her jointed legs (in number, eight) traverse the threads with stilted gait, but often more she'll lie in wait within the hub of her estate. Shy spiders live their lives alone ensconced within a silky throne; unless a transient guest comes flown, their lives bide empty, monotone. . . Well, now and then, a sullen breeze may twitch the toils, begin to tease – yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas, so patience's bid at times like these. But then again, when stars ignite, may maunder by a gnat, by night, be taught a dance, a writhing rite, within a lace of death, wrapped tight. Sometimes a spider's in the mood and waits awhile, whilst being wooed – and then, to later feed her brood, the widow slays her mate for food. In time a spider dies, 'tis true, bequeathing but a residue entwined, devoid of retinue, in fibers decked in silver dew. . . . One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT – to feed and make the spider fat? Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that within a mindless habitat. . . "Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire, “at the heart of MAN's desire. To which goals should WE aspire reaching high and reaching higher?" We've, through the ages, left the mire, trundling wheels and taming fire, doing deeds that must inspire, nursing needy, calming crier, … Such things as these, most may admire: - placid dove and war defier (some are bolder, some are shyer) - patience (mess-up mollifier); - humankind (Life's justifier) - charity (charmed self-denier) - tolerance (proud pacifier ) - love of Life (folk unifier). What more could we, as flesh, require? Needless kneeling neath the spire? Childish chanting in the choir? Preaching hell's impending pyre? No, Death's the only rectifier, comes the instant we expire, nothing after, sentience prior. So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.
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70
Husband and Wife! yes, that term sounds nice. When they tie that knot with gold. Two will live as one, this path has just begun. Together until they both grow old. In this lifetime dance, sharing their romance. Will things always go their way. Errors can slip in, create a family sin. That makes this connection sway. He might go astray, and his wife betray. And the odds are this won't go. Far to making them want to try again But many others may not know. From an outside eye love will never die. They were made to live as one. Rather a theatrical play, than give the game away. The deception has begun. For a child's grace they create a face. That is happy and sublime. But they drift apart, both have lost the heart. And just seek to bide their time. For it will doubtless be when it's not us but me. And for freedom they will aim. No more having to distract with this farcical act. Finally ending loves spun game. Should it go on so late, when love does turn to hate. Is it not better to just leave For trying to be discreet can be so bitter sweet. Like a web that spiders weave. Better to live a truth than to try and prove. To those who are outside. Of this marriage bed where these hearts have bled. Just for the sake of pride.
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
Bad Marriage Blues.
reverence in poetry.                             everything to every person. reader claims they can                         a necessary skill for uncover the reverence.                         successful hypothecating and in the scripts that                       (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing, life straight hands me,                          tell them what thy want to hear, for collection & correction,           and they’ll call you laureate,                       secretarial transcribing,                        instead of good listener binding, typo correction                       or just a keen observer-fakir mundane are the tasks,                          just take what they give ya, that’s all them muses ask,                     dress it like Joseph in a don’t interfere, taken what’s given,     coat of many colors, bow, curtsy, show respect,                     don’t let on your plagiarism treat its aspects/instincts correctly       is all them, redressed legally you’re just the pass through agent,   true you, gotta be smart about it, patient for no payment expected,    variant spellings, swinging verbs, be our adherent, not our truant,      be discreet, they’ll call your script we appoint don’t disappoint,          a real keeper and give love or sun, accept our patent, render legit        mucho poem emojis accoladeya as for this reverence thinge        devil in a blue dress, walk the streets if I do my job ok, on any day,     grabbing snatches of overhearings, any poem could save a life,        pressed into a single tunic, you think, if I get the commas placed,         he a genius, knows my thinking, just right, the periods period,     exactly,  what a great poet and while obeying the speed limit    con/hu-man par excellent them muses so **** pleased     even fool muses, too full themselves, by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and and self deprecation,                     couldn’t do it without them they call me reverend,                   great pretenders by stealing imagine them silly folk,                everything in everybody and calling a big fat liar.                       all thieves and cape riders, reverend, duh, the end                 original liars, pants on fire before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
reverence in poetry. (2) everything in every person.
reverence in poetry.                             everything to every person. reader claims they can                         a necessary skill for uncover the reverence.                         successful hypothecating and in the scripts that                       (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing, life straight hands me,                          tell them what thy want to hear, for collection & correction,           and they’ll call you laureate,                       secretarial transcribing,                        instead of good listener binding, typo correction                       or just a keen observer-fakir mundane are the tasks,                          just take what they give ya, that’s all them muses ask,                     dress it like Joseph in a don’t interfere, taken what’s given,     coat of many colors, bow, curtsy, show respect,                     don’t let on your plagiarism treat its aspects/instincts correctly       is all them, redressed legally you’re just the pass through agent,   true you, gotta be smart about it, patient for no payment expected,    variant spellings, swinging verbs, be our adherent, not our truant,      be discreet, they’ll call your script we appoint don’t disappoint,          a real keeper and give love or sun, accept our patent, render legit        mucho poem emojis accoladeya as for this reverence thinge        devil in a blue dress, walk the streets if I do my job ok, on any day,     grabbing snatches of overhearings, any poem could save a life,        pressed into a single tunic, you think, if I get the commas placed,         he a genius, knows my thinking, just right, the periods period,     exactly,  what a great poet and while obeying the speed limit    con/hu-man par excellent them muses so **** pleased     even fool muses, too full themselves, by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and and self deprecation,                     couldn’t do it without them they call me reverend,                   great pretenders by stealing imagine them silly folk,                everything in everybody and calling a big fat liar.                       all thieves and cape riders, reverend, duh, the end                 original liars, pants on fire before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
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33
my eyes they do wonder more than you will ever know will they always tend to find themeselves in thoughts unpredicted by even myself who could probe so deep, mingle so lightly with touches and sighs not meant to come out they way they do but even more so much more then what ill ever draw with my finger love dipped sand gripped oh autumn summer fall gray September red winter sepia summer under leaves and leaves ocean the ocean never changed where I felt touch as a woman released my first sighs as a woman doing bad so bad under things that were so beautiful that was so beautiful I mix and walk back I must be a woman to walk this way and to look into all of your eyes and feel nothing and then feel everything alcohol white fresh and tastes like spring under the imagination of so many things I can go on forever you know about cups lovers creeps echos and black ******* that helps me flow and I still bend to weak minds and words I still bend to eyes fleeting destruction to eyes who try to lie about everything make believe they are something dieing inside from nothing bleeding tape around mouths with tongues that are too narrow for proper speech i still bend to beauty and love for the sake of -- love or anything of such kind meanings lost mixed and revealed through each other with such discreet difference in between and I feel the difference and the contrast only makes me fall deeper into things that i don't know once discovered I grab my scarf wrap it around my neck with a thin cancer mutation in between my fingers select my watch drape it around my wrist put all belongings where they belong and check out into the next hotel of malicious life tones
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Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 7:53 PM UTC
Hostel
my eyes they do wonder more than you will ever know will they always tend to find themeselves in thoughts unpredicted by even myself who could probe so deep, mingle so lightly with touches and sighs not meant to come out they way they do but even more so much more then what ill ever draw with my finger love dipped sand gripped oh autumn summer fall gray September red winter sepia summer under leaves and leaves ocean the ocean never changed where I felt touch as a woman released my first sighs as a woman doing bad so bad under things that were so beautiful that was so beautiful I mix and walk back I must be a woman to walk this way and to look into all of your eyes and feel nothing and then feel everything alcohol white fresh and tastes like spring under the imagination of so many things I can go on forever you know about cups lovers creeps echos and black ******* that helps me flow and I still bend to weak minds and words I still bend to eyes fleeting destruction to eyes who try to lie about everything make believe they are something dieing inside from nothing bleeding tape around mouths with tongues that are too narrow for proper speech i still bend to beauty and love for the sake of -- love or anything of such kind meanings lost mixed and revealed through each other with such discreet difference in between and I feel the difference and the contrast only makes me fall deeper into things that i don't know once discovered I grab my scarf wrap it around my neck with a thin cancer mutation in between my fingers select my watch drape it around my wrist put all belongings where they belong and check out into the next hotel of malicious life tones
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55
Tonight I flicker dimmer than most I'm alone with everyone here Stabbing their plates and proposing their toasts Tonight I feel my wings but they're in cuffs I'm alone with everyone here Speaking their words, laughing their laughs Tonight I bear the arrows of discreet little leers I'm alone with everyone here Silently goading me with their mocks and jeers Tonight I hear whispers muttered inaudible I'm alone with everyone here Inconspicuous fingers pointed under tables Tonight I write but my ink weighs heavy I'm alone with everyone here They pile on my thoughts, usurping the calm... Inciting a mind full of anarchy
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
(Un)Alone
“Mr Pyre, come on through.” “Pop your bottom in my chair.” “Open wide, please Mr Pyre” Mr Pyre shaking, quaking in his ***** boots. Couldn’t bear the dentist. Was so very scared. Nurse pops on his cape. So no dribble spilled. Mr Pyre, the frightened patient. Wasn’t very thrilled. Dentist stuck his mirror in poor Mr Pyre’s mouth. Sees nothing. Shocked as no reflection seen. Very discreet. All knowing grin. Working with vampires never ideal. As Mr Pyre’s teeth they grew. Leaped out of the chair. Thought he’d have an early lunch. Dentist was no more. For lunch, Mr Pyre munched his dental man. Ate the nurse, receptionist too. Extracted his cape of plastic. Restored his own. Being a vampire, such a curse! Then from the surgery he flew. By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved) By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
TRIP TO THE SURGERY
1128 These are the Nights that Beetles love— From Eminence remote Drives ponderous perpendicular His figure intimate The terror of the Children The merriment of men Depositing his Thunder He hoists abroad again— A Bomb upon the Ceiling Is an improving thing— It keeps the nerves progressive Conjecture flourishing— Too dear the Summer evening Without discreet alarm— Supplied by Entomology With its remaining charm—
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3.7k
These are the Nights that Beetles love—
I listen and let you take me along always yearning, wishing hoping that I might land, wondering why I even need to find my footing. I am a complex soul, I keep telling myself that, while around me, in the active bustle of a sidewalk cafe, I see faces, so many lovely minds, untapped but directed, finding their own place, their own quiet destiny. ~ I hear the winds of 'winter's discontent.' Remains in my mind, always knocking in silence, my pulse awaits a shift, some opportunity to tick lasting effects, define my confusion, while you journey me on, music, my violins, I listen and feel pain, then resonant delight. I am alone, inside a quiet dream of human interaction. yet, where am I supposed to land. I can at least, count on you, the rhythms of my soul, to take me along on a quiet journey. Please remain discreet, lest those around recognize I may be incomplete.
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
Violins My Woe
Don't watch me bleed, Pick it up, Pick it all up, And place it in your cup, From which you drink your sins nightly. You're so unsightly, Your mother should have aborted, How she could have supported, That monster you are, Disgusts me, You're such a star. Supernova, You're brighter than any, You're a quarter to my penny, A dime to my dim, Slim to my exact, Addition to my subtract, The loser to my win. Supernova, Monster mystery, I reflect in your shadow, In your shadow I am me, Dark and discreet, I knock at your door, Invited in, I have a seat, Wine please, more, I am minor, major; I implore. Supernova, I lay death at your feet, I lick the edges, I taste defeat, I've walked the ledges, Life I've met, despair I'll meet, Just you wait, Supernova symphony, I faint beautifully, In wake of your sleep, River wrists, Dare slumber keep, My heart at rest, Supernova symmetry, Torn apart at best.
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Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 10:27 PM UTC
Supernova Symphony Suicide
superb partaking of private delicacies yet always keeping track of the skyline keeping senses alert, never fully falling I allow myself to get hurt each time that skyline changes not because I enjoy the pain but there's just something about you I'm not willing to lose, not that easily so, I swallow ******* and suppress the ego and take the whipping words readily whatever it takes there may come a relinquishing moment when I can just give and let it all flow free fall, like a kite almost but for now, when shadows may come and place arms round the heavens ****** sun rays from abode and kiss the air into a messy cloudburst and leave the sky taut with approaching footfalls of fiery thunder claps I take it all and want it no other way I accept the paradox fully the pattern has been set it is consistent this mega beautiful skyline over me hovers so discreet in plain sight yet blind to all I see the veins on the back of your hand, and blood veering sideways towards impossible thoughts yes a line upon the horizon tells me never fear a stringent fire walk simply tests the mettle coil discoveries in life confirm nobody is alone as deep and low as it gets sometimes the highs, oh! the highs outfly the roof take what you need from life now and from me yet take your sweet time until the day I see your eyes reflected in that skyline and your lamp beckoning on, into this frame your skyline tastes so good
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
skyline
It is necessary to know how to tame her, Shy, careful, secret and reserved, Not very comfortable in a crowd. She possesses this discreet charm, You cannot forget as a viral load. Natural, simple, reliable in her feelings, She needs proofs to be reassured. Her attitude is sensible and direct, An inner life is rich of her life's striking, Where her intellectual sphere takes it, By the elegance of her sparkling creativity, Under the power of her own meditations. She is so rational, ironic and critical, By her genuine metaphysical reflections. She is constantly building on her intuition, In the area of integrating life's solutions. She thinks of being late, but just accurate, Worried in pleasing and in being loved, But just forgets she is part of human being. You can trust her blindly, Because in spite of her side to part, So different and so warm, That can perturb you, And walk away from both of you. She remains your half for all eternity, Even if today this Love has dried up, Keep her sharing gift to love yourself, To be yourself, and nothing else !
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
She
Seldom doth man stop and stare At the caste iron manhole cover there, Seldom doth he analyze The majesty, which beneath it lies. The pipe work systems vast and long Dark catacombs so precise and strong, Buried deep beneath our feet Extending forth from street to street, Out across the breadth of town Those secret fluids trickle down. Laser levels carve the pathway Through the walls of solid stone, Shovels scrape and dig with effort Forging hard trajectories home. Digging, digging metal mountains Sweat cascades upon the brow, We lay the pipes in straight formation Precision's satisfaction now. An Artisan's great work is hidden Lost beneath the earth's grey stone, Appreciation camouflaged in that, The cast iron manhole stands alone. Magnificence unrealized For deep beneath your feet, A subterranean Michelangelo's Sisteen Chapel, lays discreet. Unsuspected rivers Flowing darkly to the sea In caverns of unwanted waste Quite unbeknown to thee. Vaulting brickwork chambers Which are ancient works of art, Carry oceans of excretement Far from where their journey's start. With thunder's crash and lightning flash And torrents of cold rain, The road's awash and gutters flow Through roadside grates to drain. Gushing torrents cascade down In waves of flowing might To the storm water system Which promptly swallows it from sight. Magic, you say ? Nay, nay I say unto you That the drain layers artistry Is unappreciated, that's true ! That the Herculean effort wrought In winning his great fights Is largely lost to all and sundry Who avoid construction sites. They miss the planning and the layout And meticulousness too And the rubber seals which stop the leaks Which really bother you. The massive holes and danger Of being buried in collapse And the wondrous satisfaction Of achieving downhill flows... Perhaps! Marshalg Apprentice drain layer MHX Beachcroft site and Eastport 19 September 2009
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Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
The Caste Iron Manhole Cover
Seldom doth man stop and stare At the caste iron manhole cover there, Seldom doth he analyze The majesty, which beneath it lies. The pipe work systems vast and long Dark catacombs so precise and strong, Buried deep beneath our feet Extending forth from street to street, Out across the breadth of town Those secret fluids trickle down. Laser levels carve the pathway Through the walls of solid stone, Shovels scrape and dig with effort Forging hard trajectories home. Digging, digging metal mountains Sweat cascades upon the brow, We lay the pipes in straight formation Precision's satisfaction now. An Artisan's great work is hidden Lost beneath the earth's grey stone, Appreciation camouflaged in that, The cast iron manhole stands alone. Magnificence unrealized For deep beneath your feet, A subterranean Michelangelo's Sisteen Chapel, lays discreet. Unsuspected rivers Flowing darkly to the sea In caverns of unwanted waste Quite unbeknown to thee. Vaulting brickwork chambers Which are ancient works of art, Carry oceans of excretement Far from where their journey's start. With thunder's crash and lightning flash And torrents of cold rain, The road's awash and gutters flow Through roadside grates to drain. Gushing torrents cascade down In waves of flowing might To the storm water system Which promptly swallows it from sight. Magic, you say ? Nay, nay I say unto you That the drain layers artistry Is unappreciated, that's true ! That the Herculean effort wrought In winning his great fights Is largely lost to all and sundry Who avoid construction sites. They miss the planning and the layout And meticulousness too And the rubber seals which stop the leaks Which really bother you. The massive holes and danger Of being buried in collapse And the wondrous satisfaction Of achieving downhill flows... Perhaps! Marshalg Apprentice drain layer MHX Beachcroft site and Eastport 19 September 2009
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