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"disentangling" poems
O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes For bilious spasms of pigswill For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees Above the perverted pampas! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms Whose **** throbbing tapeworm A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate Across the intergalactic space! America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice Reinvigorate thy ****** *********** inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid! O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat In disentangling feeding frenzy Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over And velvet glove more than backbone! America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman That smells wide of the fourth dimension Thine lathery brothels lick Polished using giant armadillo excrement! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district
0
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
America The Picture Postcard
I can't turn you down I have every intention of saying No. I can't. I can't keep torturing myself like this. But, when the moment comes I can't resist It's just the way it is and we both know it Because I crave feeling you close to me, holding me for a moment allowing ourselves to be one Because the moment when you kiss my forehead my heart beats out of my chest, so hard I'm scared you can feel it pressed up against yours and melts, into a pool of your own I can't turn you down Not in those rare moments of tenderness with an honesty that touch can never betray in the way words & silences can and will And all my resolve and self-control evaporates like the sparks flying into the night sky As we take off each other's clothes entering into our forbidden When the lights turn down I can't turn you down But when we wake to the light of day we go back to being just you and me. Disentangling our legs and souls And after you leave I lie there still and vow to myself that next time I will turn you down
0
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC
Turn You Down
Disentangling abstractedy, A bee returning crazily along the path of least resistance Flying home. Through the orchids, flax and irises Lilacs dripping promises, Mist-laced and mapped with honesty He goes home. Morning recriminations Bitter sprinkles in the milk, Stood there; his mind is wandering to apricots and silk Desire twisted hungrily, A door slammed...... home overthrown by silence. Storm clouds horizon kissing Dark thoughts of something missing, ........then nothing more.
0
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Abrupt Ending
A warrior of love, a perfect Amazon you are well equipped for a war, ready to take whatever it'd be to win, beauty of such kind wages any war only to conquer,the news has spread that I am the one, you've set your sight,so glad I am, for me! Hypnotized by your painted dark eyes, I am thirsty; instead of water, your lips offer great solace, only disentangling becomes a deed impossible at last! Your armory is full,I could very well  feel the moment you employ embraces as a part of your tactics of overpowering and subjugation, I guess you still have more moves hidden,kept ready in case of a prolonged war of ****** masterfulness, I gather, but why, yes why ,should I bother? Take me by my hand and lead,show me which way to move to please you most.                                   To your bed,we'd retreat, warriors of unrelenting amour, we'd take up this beloved endeavor couched in  ardent desire, we'll play the parts riding the horses of passion, till dawn shows us the signs to retire for a time.
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Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 6:16 AM UTC
The warriors of amour
Across the green of the lawn, the morning sun makes a spectacular  splash, a wash of gold, the lonely tree blissfully embracing soft fog all night long, gets annoyed and feels cheated as the hands of sun tickles wisps of fog, startled she hurriedly leaves disentangling the branches. A black cat, rudely woken up by sun's sultry pinch still her eyes half closed,  runs across the lawn, the dark shadow of the tree fallen across her path engulfs her, perplexed she rolls on the ground still her eyes closed, thinks she is trapped and something is going to happen,"I am dead" she meows, a morning bird on a low branch, seeing this,is amused, in mirth she  tweets aloud" you fool, you fool, get up"
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Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
The morning sun plays with the sleepy world
how might my reality be redefined by slipping furtively like a hapless lover disentangling midnight sheets fleeing past pathways of my own psyche to see the view from her mind’s balcony to inhabit intergalactic eyes sparkling and shining like supernovae every time she parts scarlet lips in defense of the helpless i'd plant gardens inside her irises water the seeds and invite the bees to pollinate fresh thoughts and rejuvenate an energy that could illuminate new theories about the cosmos and its inhabitants i want to dwell within corridors of infinite imagination bridge the synaptic gaps across rivers of lapsing memories a lackadaisical adventurer adrift in neurological galaxies ingesting erudite insight i yearn to build a home inside the mind of a poet an activist and a bona fide genius
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Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
erudite
sewing needles always find their way into my fingers. stitch by stitch my fingers mingle sewing my half to your half. always feel i've searched the earth with each single red-letter girl disentangling our knotted thoughts braiding our interests and fingers. twined through careful timing and concern wreathed in gentle memoirs. you were mine and I was yours.
0
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
Easier Said Than Done
White blank pages, wars through the ages, reminiscing the fallen but forgetting their faces. Turning the blank page, only to amplify our rage, living the dream; getting by on minimum wage. Every day is a struggle, so we lacerate our morals, no concern laid fourth, reflecting on our laurels. Criticized on a subject that was laid upon the table, choking on my pride only to find I was able. Mis-lead interpretation, personified through false conclusion, has un-wound my path, representing deluded illusion. Approached by a stranger, as he clenched for my grasp, soon I was awoken, and daunted of my past. The man’s fragile nature, and disheveled presence, only beckoned for the call of a cheap, lousy peasant. Disentangling his mysteries, wasn’t on the agenda, but allowing him hope, meant less chance of surrender. Now I find myself here, far away from a throne, sacrificing my living, and everything I own. The poor, ragged peasant ceases to exist, and to top it all off, Grandma’s knickers are in a twist. So down I went, on both my knees, closed my eyes and began to squeeze. I couldn’t see anything, that was for sure, but what happened next, well what a ****** ***** The ***** old Grandma lay down on her bed, took off her underwear, and this is what she said: I’ve got a magic sixpence, will you come and give it a rub, I’ve got hairy canary, and a belly full of flub. Bewildered at this shocking scene, oh fast I did run, only to be pulled by the neck, then up went her thumb. ***** old Grandma, this just isn’t right” “oh wind your ****** neck in son, I can’t believe you’re so tight!” Grasping for air my lungs began to bulge, I headed for the nearest exit, only to be told. “Son, there’s one lesson to be learnt in life” “Oh really, is there Grandma?” “Yes”, she said. “That is ******* right.”
0
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
Despite Being In Spite Of
White blank pages, wars through the ages, reminiscing the fallen but forgetting their faces. Turning the blank page, only to amplify our rage, living the dream; getting by on minimum wage. Every day is a struggle, so we lacerate our morals, no concern laid fourth, reflecting on our laurels. Criticized on a subject that was laid upon the table, choking on my pride only to find I was able. Mis-lead interpretation, personified through false conclusion, has un-wound my path, representing deluded illusion. Approached by a stranger, as he clenched for my grasp, soon I was awoken, and daunted of my past. The man’s fragile nature, and disheveled presence, only beckoned for the call of a cheap, lousy peasant. Disentangling his mysteries, wasn’t on the agenda, but allowing him hope, meant less chance of surrender. Now I find myself here, far away from a throne, sacrificing my living, and everything I own. The poor, ragged peasant ceases to exist, and to top it all off, Grandma’s knickers are in a twist. So down I went, on both my knees, closed my eyes and began to squeeze. I couldn’t see anything, that was for sure, but what happened next, well what a ****** ***** The ***** old Grandma lay down on her bed, took off her underwear, and this is what she said: I’ve got a magic sixpence, will you come and give it a rub, I’ve got hairy canary, and a belly full of flub. Bewildered at this shocking scene, oh fast I did run, only to be pulled by the neck, then up went her thumb. ***** old Grandma, this just isn’t right” “oh wind your ****** neck in son, I can’t believe you’re so tight!” Grasping for air my lungs began to bulge, I headed for the nearest exit, only to be told. “Son, there’s one lesson to be learnt in life” “Oh really, is there Grandma?” “Yes”, she said. “That is ******* right.”
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37
I enter my shell and close the door No exchange of energy No exchange of matter Expertly self-search and lore It’s a quarantined route Gathering pieces that shatter The outside is mute The inside is deafening *Reckoning dilemmas Disentangling dilemmas Accepting dilemmas* I and I and myself All my selves Reading books from my inner shelf Words written with my ink I blink I blink and again I blink I realize the wholly interlink *I sense the web of tears I see the web of cheers* The web of regrets Those past sweats The now is past There’s a fresh now I smoke a cigarette That's past and there's a new now *A present absent of digress A present fueled by recognition* Recognition of a web which confess That I am one Revealing a tone of ambition That I once swore I would roar for the soul This is me opening the door
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Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
Knock, knock
Doppelgänger by Michael R. Burch Here the only anguish is the bedraggled vetch lying strangled in weeds, the customary sorrows of the wild persimmons, the whispered complaints of the stately willow trees disentangling their fine lank hair, and what is past. I find you here, one of many things lost, that, if we do not recover, will undoubtedly vanish forever ... now only this unfortunate stone, this pale, disintegrate mass, this destiny, this unexpected shiver, this name we share. Keywords/Tags: doppelganger, namesake, twin, lookalike, grave, tomb, headstone, inscription, weeds, shiver, recognition, destiny, fate
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Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 5:47 AM UTC
Doppelgänger
Around an armful of pillows and blue blanket you offered a parting hug. I stepped into an embrace that was lint speckled polyester and the width of your hand spread open at the small of my back. We were infatuated children pecking kisses innocently on cheeks to express sincere emotion rather than as a prelude to the symphony of stirring sheets.     We were lopsided in structure. Me with my right arm scraping the outcrop of your shoulder. My left tucked under your armpit snagging the loose folds in your shirt; while your forearms cradled   blue softness and half my ribs. One one-thousand, two one-thousand counted before we pulled apart gently disentangling your fabric from mine. And with a foot of concrete between our feet we grew up once more. Re-learning the warm colors of violence and *** The cool colors of drinking and drugs.
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Memories of Playgrounds
At least the coffee's hot and understands me unlike today that just backhands me, Is it too early for a glass of wine? My life gets stuck on tic tac toe a no win, no win, no point to go on, but I go on because I'm an awkward cuss. I saw the universe come to a stop, but it started up again ( explain that one Brian *** ) Should I, should I not have another from the coffee *** I'm watching clouds break up a bit like lovers do, slowly disentangling, to be alone to be at home with oneself. I need to, want to, got to, soon. Let's celebrate underneath those arches where our dreams dreamed with the Moon. Friday clicks the switch Rik says, " Robinson, You're such a ***** " I mention jam which is what I feel I'm in. but It'll pass, immortalised or turn to gas either way Friday is here until midnight.
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Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
When is it time to go home?
I think the saddest thing about getting older, is all the things that you'll realize you never knew about me, and how easily i hid them from you. And you're only just seeing everything fall into place, every excuse and subject change, and flat out lie, because i separated myself from your life. I finally have the freedom to leave, and i'm disentangling our lives piece by piece. I am who i am, especially without you, completely mental and ****** up, but at least now i can just be and not worry about what you think or wonder if you believed me when i told you i wasn't okay.
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Lie to Me
And there you are again Oozing from the street signs and making my stomach quiver with all the bumps on our favorite road I watch you in the leaves that dance around tree trunks only to sink to cold grass today. In a months time Ill look at the leaves and they'll be just that Leaves. The hole in the wall diner in town won't remind me of our first date anymore It'll just be a diner And you'd think a thought like that could comfort me You'd think I'd be happy that I'm slowly disentangling you from my days. But one day One somber day I'll listen to 'come and get your love' and I'll ride a skateboard or chew that minty gum you like so much And I won't see you anywhere And although I lost you physically today   The day Ive forgotten every misplaced hair on your head And the wind doesn't bring your scent to my face When my friends haven't asked about you in a while And when your name doesn't flicker in my mind Then I'll have really lost you And you'll be so far from me and there will be nothing left of who we used to be
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Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
In a month's Time
There are advantages To isolation of romance And anything regarding emotion But at the end of the day Despite the thought of freedom And repetitive reflections of past discomfort It is challenging to lay alone Slowly becoming accustomed to a bed to yourself Realizing the new space and profound independence But I will always miss the warmth of a body There is something captivating about flesh on flesh Body on body, enveloping each other in balmy breaths Tangling legs like tired shoe laces Wrapping tightly, pushing away the thought of anything else There is something peaceful about that Though cold sheets are refreshing Warm bodies are reassuring There is something about the way it feels The way their chest rises when they breathe Not even realizing how you have memorized how it elevates There is nothing more tranquil I know that living it up and being free is wonderful Never taking the risk of heartbreak is solacing Doing what you please, when you please is disentangling Absence of amour is sometimes divine But every craves affection intermittently Even if they do not admit to it
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
Spilled Ink On Affection
Focusing just on intelligence, Denies the complete picture; Overthinking small matters, Distracts your mind; Omitting your strength from the full experience, Disconnects your heart from your soul; Losing yourself in others, Deadens your true potential; Instinctively living is only possible when you Don’t hide from your truth. Shame is the slime that obscures your view, Demolishing the almighty power within. Hiding was a survival mechanism, but now, Disentangling from these faulty patterns will bring you true life.
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Apr 17, 2024
Apr 17, 2024 at 12:43 AM UTC
Foolish