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"dissension" poems
I am darkness I am light, I am chaos I am might, lies and truth unite, Fear and bravery, envy with hatred and love finally combined, I am the difference between illusions and dreams, nothing as it seems, Nightmares and mirrages, a realm of infinity and finite by its means, I am fusion and fission, with one simple yet very complex misssion, Energy and indolence, a wall, another fence, questions upon answers If small lies give rise to grand falsities, what is the truth gonna bring ? A place where you should be able to feel reality and fantasy's sting, Apathy and concern unite, come closer I don't really bite, trust me, My teeth look sharp, yet they are blunt, you can rant or stay calm, I am a living death wandering yet standing still, does it make you ill? Generosity and greed are both present while they are missing, still! Control the lies of your uncontrollable tounge, listen to the silence, Could we possibly agree that this unanimity relies in total dissension? I am the discouragement for your precious, little yet pure intentions, Aimlessness for hope of a future unexplored yet near enough to grasp I am the rue in pride, a lamp without light, elusive but not transient, A harmonic ramgage, riots over the horizon in undefined dark light, I am malevolent and benevolent, bent yet straight, right behind you, What am I ? ~ Umi
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Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Inexplicably Undefined
When brothers go to war there are no captives/ When brothers go to war we find only casualties/ The in explicable war between Palestine and Israel,/ In this poem i hope that peace would prevail/ Countries at the crossroads of heaven and hell/ Their war has lasted for ages/ Pain and revenge bitterness and hate/ When brothers go to war who dares to mediate/ Who knows of their fate who knows whose right/ Its bee like this for so many years/ Who will be there to wipe their tears/ Who will be there to give hope to those in fear/ Who will dare to go and interfere/ When brothers go to war know that the end is near/ Hold on and sanctify your soul in prayer/ When brothers go to war who is the villain who is the saint/ The war of Israel and Palestine stained in red paint/ A revelation to the faint hearted/ A lesson to the boastful and egocentric/ Innocent lives lost when brothers go to war/ A gentle answer turns away wrath/ But a harsh word stirs up anger/ A hot tempered man stirs up dissension/ But a patient man calms a quarrel/ When brothers go to war who dares mediate (c) ISSAI
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
WHEN BROTHERS GO TO WAR
She is the lady on the road. She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel. She is the lady on the road. She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society, She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles. She is the lady on the road. She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon, She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog, She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper. She is the lady on the road. She wears short skirts, She wears tight tops, She doesn't encourage the flirts, She neither abominates the leering of cops. She is the lady on the road. She holds a honourable reputation, She forms the base of ethical standards, She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension, She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle, She is the epitome of cheerful disposition. She is the lady on the road. She ignores the catcalls, She endures the torture and prevails her morale, She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable, She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny, She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation, She does no harm, but deals with it. She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
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Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Misfit Angel , the seventh wonder.
Can we call it freedom if it divides? Is it correct to ridicule revered name? Was that in defence of freedom? Or was that for easy money and fame? They went on with their provocations; And justified it with arguments lame. Numerous hearts were agonised. But few turned wild, difficult to tame. Extreme provocations and insults. In the name of ' Freedom of speech' Extreme response and harshest reply. To avenge the insult and to teach. When one's ' Freedom of Expression '; Gives one the ' Freedom to insult '. Hatred and dissension are promoted; And can lead to horrifying result.
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
Charlie Hebdo
drama queen, drama queen looking for attention facebook is your movie screen the place of your invention drama queen, drama queen hoping for some tension facebook is your movie scene the place for your dissension
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May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
facebook drama queen
The Raven Queen came from simple country roots No royal silver spoon did she carry Raised by unpretentious witches holding great wisdom Old Gertrude, Esmeralda and Tregarry Three witches known as spiritual leaders of the valley Of lowly peasants and abundant woods Raised her up simply infused with a fiery spirit Proclaiming the law of the land to be good Two faces reigned within the leaders and peasants One which was shown to The Law The other kept hidden as they lowly bowed to the wind Praising the moon and icy snow as it thawed A tale of hidden woe these three leaders carried Unbeknown to the Raven Queen Of her true heritage and the tainted gold they kept From the night Old Death intervened Old Death quietly crept in on her birthing night Stole her sweet mother away Yet for a fee the wise leaders took her in to love Knowing who she would be one day An eager student their young queen became Learning the wisdom of the truth Quite an apprentice in the ways of the wind She became early in her youth All at once the fiercest Winter ever known to the valley Brought in terrible winds and bitter snow The young queen watched as the peasants trembled As savage wolves entered their fold Great hunger came to the valley along with Old Death Dissension was called into play Soon, each of the leaders knew the time had come To teach her the dark side of their ways She was pulled from light into the darkest shadows To embrace her own true destiny Her dark light shone through the woods and the valley Bringing the savage wolves to bay Fear of the Raven Queen’s light spread from the valley Coursing through the veins of The Law Sending in fierce horsemen thundering with vengeance Her own lifeblood they came to draw She answered their thundering with her own call Heads for heads, raging fire with ice Saving the ones who took her under their wings Returning their tainted gold at a price
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Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
The Raven Queen
The Raven Queen came from simple country roots No royal silver spoon did she carry Raised by unpretentious witches holding great wisdom Old Gertrude, Esmeralda and Tregarry Three witches known as spiritual leaders of the valley Of lowly peasants and abundant woods Raised her up simply infused with a fiery spirit Proclaiming the law of the land to be good Two faces reigned within the leaders and peasants One which was shown to The Law The other kept hidden as they lowly bowed to the wind Praising the moon and icy snow as it thawed A tale of hidden woe these three leaders carried Unbeknown to the Raven Queen Of her true heritage and the tainted gold they kept From the night Old Death intervened Old Death quietly crept in on her birthing night Stole her sweet mother away Yet for a fee the wise leaders took her in to love Knowing who she would be one day An eager student their young queen became Learning the wisdom of the truth Quite an apprentice in the ways of the wind She became early in her youth All at once the fiercest Winter ever known to the valley Brought in terrible winds and bitter snow The young queen watched as the peasants trembled As savage wolves entered their fold Great hunger came to the valley along with Old Death Dissension was called into play Soon, each of the leaders knew the time had come To teach her the dark side of their ways She was pulled from light into the darkest shadows To embrace her own true destiny Her dark light shone through the woods and the valley Bringing the savage wolves to bay Fear of the Raven Queen’s light spread from the valley Coursing through the veins of The Law Sending in fierce horsemen thundering with vengeance Her own lifeblood they came to draw She answered their thundering with her own call Heads for heads, raging fire with ice Saving the ones who took her under their wings Returning their tainted gold at a price
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44
*Tell yourself to breathe as the stratosphere is falling, imagining verses tumbling midst downpours' dissension, sans sentimentality's          loquacious language, and the land is left barren     as verbosity disintegrates and emotions wholly perish     'neath fickle cloudbursts                of poetry's extinction*
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Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC
Fickle Cloudbursts
I knew we were in trouble when they taught the machines to talk parliament of artificial owls nocturnal park line pirates watch and learn these conspirators abduct the listening chair and strap deniability to another infernal device so some hotwired pilgriming woman possesses superior ****** abilities and a skill with the violin, the pointy end camera is king yet all the negatives have been destroyed still somewhere out there remains a flash card and a hybrid set of eyes watching all the people fall to pieces we're perambulations around collapsed buildings, rather than the collapsing buildings themselves me and the machine of contradictions sick as our secrets with all kinds of shenanigans going on welcome to the age of copying minds onto hard drives and cellphones a future too heavy to carry and so we plant it deep into the soil letting the cables sleep like fading city lights, receding like strange fractured reactors at the edge of the world in lieu of flowers send hope
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Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 6:37 PM UTC
Disclosure Denial Dissension
War of the worlds,                                 men bartering money Dollar bills left abandoned,                                                blown to smithereens Battling dusts of torment,                                             acceptance of surrender Waging a money war,                                        business men flee In the shadows rises,                                    a fallen angel Akin to a phoenix,                                 from the ashes She symbolizes a renewal,                                              dying in fires Sparks burning a nest,                                        immortality supplying coffins Diabolical legacies of past,                                              bow & arrow Punctured wounding broken heart,                                                              wings disallow flight Stumbling a splintered hip,                                                reborn a chance Of independent determined autonomy,                                                                     la Cuesta Encantada Fallen at the gates,                                 an enchanted hill San Simeon seeking redemption,                                                         death awaits her Carrying body & soul,                                        Santa María Maggiore Of Roman baroque temples,                                                  small cascading pools Death releases her body,                                          the Neptune pool She floats without dissension,                                                    sinking in grace In all her glory,                            Hearst Castle will Entomb body & soul,                                       memories of her release release release Absolution. © Sia Jane
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Phoenix (from the flames)
War of the worlds,                                 men bartering money Dollar bills left abandoned,                                                blown to smithereens Battling dusts of torment,                                             acceptance of surrender Waging a money war,                                        business men flee In the shadows rises,                                    a fallen angel Akin to a phoenix,                                 from the ashes She symbolizes a renewal,                                              dying in fires Sparks burning a nest,                                        immortality supplying coffins Diabolical legacies of past,                                              bow & arrow Punctured wounding broken heart,                                                              wings disallow flight Stumbling a splintered hip,                                                reborn a chance Of independent determined autonomy,                                                                     la Cuesta Encantada Fallen at the gates,                                 an enchanted hill San Simeon seeking redemption,                                                         death awaits her Carrying body & soul,                                        Santa María Maggiore Of Roman baroque temples,                                                  small cascading pools Death releases her body,                                          the Neptune pool She floats without dissension,                                                    sinking in grace In all her glory,                            Hearst Castle will Entomb body & soul,                                       memories of her release release release Absolution. © Sia Jane
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he is my demented extension twin menace from another dimension an entity of an inner dissension committing sins too grim to mention residing deep inside a dividing of my mind i can't find nowhere to hide i'm fighting the undefined he is my conflicted cognition me and him are a different depiction i don't fit this inflicted condition his misery is my living constriction residing deep inside a dividing of my mind i can't find nowhere to hide i'm fighting the undefined
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Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
dr jekyll and mr hide(i know, i spelled it wrong)
*To the ground, to the ground, the country must fall, If it is to rise again, free from leeches, mosquitoes, et. al.* Murderers walk free Gangsters parade their ware A country controlled by thieves petty Citizens governed lack of care A dozen missions have now been declared To the moon, to space, there and back Petty thieves calling themselves politicians Will be forever doomed, karma bites back Poet laureates hauled to prison Patriotism is questioned If petty thieves continue ruling Why wouldn’t learned souls rise to action? Hope is nowhere in sight Dissension and strife are forthcoming Divide and conquer, it worked really well First the British and now the national front *To the ground, to the ground, the country must fall, If it is to rise again, free from leeches, mosquitoes, et. al.*
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
To the Ground, to the Ground
She got a ticket to nowhere and bought it with a bucket of dreams. Dreams that were traded for a vast plain of empty seeds. She planted drops of hope and watered the fields with devotion and attention. Only to be left with dead seedlings of bitter dissension. With her soul account emptied and bare she had invested everything for a plentiful harvest to sustain nutrition and share. She plowed and plowed But the sprouts she tried to cultivate Stayed dormant and bowed throughout a lifetime of relentless drought. *The sun still rises and there is water from my tears with enough attention and some discarded fears Perhaps one little seed will take hold and enter the world with new blooms that beautifully unfold.* Back in the saddle all suited up she figures *maybe just maybe if I don't give up* With just one seed from her pocket buried deep in a survivor's locket she patted it down and drenched it with faith Called on her angels and down came the rain.
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Sowing Your Seed
# With a twinge of internal dissension I realized that I had  all along been ******* nothing else,  but air. This made  me--  a dedicated loner.. smile, profoundly. I chased myself around the room.. playing,  hard to get.. But me with me will always  be gotten. I  got  that, my loves ..get that? #
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Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 7:13 PM UTC
rosy
Sinking in depression for another session is not an obsession but is a confession due to the recession caused by a dissension. _________________________ © 2021 George Krokos
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Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 9:19 AM UTC
Depression / Confession
A Mass Inversion. I have lived to witness an Apple become a juggernaut see the followers nod their heads in belief, walking segregated on the streets unaware of their own worship. We have not yet realized that the largest religion in the world is no longer faith based, technophiles fill our rural and metro quintessential sprawl. Their numbers swell and burgeon with new converts that give funding rank and file, whom are taught to know indulgence in name only, mistaking desire for need. This technology based obsession is without age or gender restrictions, without race distinction, it asks not for ethics,        pride, morality, intelligence or privacy. It is all-consuming just as any ideology- as any religion, answering the same fervent questions, demanding tribute and changing the way you think. - The View Outside. Among the whole, the slow mass conversion, there is occasional dissension, some who glorify a golden era or fill with nostalgia for something they may not have even experienced, an immaterial escapism of the present furthered by a childish inability to accept ephemerality and our irregular morality. Sometimes amid this denial, this abstaining, there is a seed of anger that grows with gnarled roots that twist throughout with nary a cry or shout. It is a quiet anger, unconditional and baseless but for an intensity, a burning sense of being wronged, an infection that spreads without exception. And when your self-righteous halo eventually slips to catch in your now flapping jaw, your anger will fade as you choke on hard etched resolve.
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Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 9:29 AM UTC
The Illusion of Individuality.
A Mass Inversion. I have lived to witness an Apple become a juggernaut see the followers nod their heads in belief, walking segregated on the streets unaware of their own worship. We have not yet realized that the largest religion in the world is no longer faith based, technophiles fill our rural and metro quintessential sprawl. Their numbers swell and burgeon with new converts that give funding rank and file, whom are taught to know indulgence in name only, mistaking desire for need. This technology based obsession is without age or gender restrictions, without race distinction, it asks not for ethics,        pride, morality, intelligence or privacy. It is all-consuming just as any ideology- as any religion, answering the same fervent questions, demanding tribute and changing the way you think. - The View Outside. Among the whole, the slow mass conversion, there is occasional dissension, some who glorify a golden era or fill with nostalgia for something they may not have even experienced, an immaterial escapism of the present furthered by a childish inability to accept ephemerality and our irregular morality. Sometimes amid this denial, this abstaining, there is a seed of anger that grows with gnarled roots that twist throughout with nary a cry or shout. It is a quiet anger, unconditional and baseless but for an intensity, a burning sense of being wronged, an infection that spreads without exception. And when your self-righteous halo eventually slips to catch in your now flapping jaw, your anger will fade as you choke on hard etched resolve.
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48
Cooking in silence on the stove-top of my tiny kitchen. Mixing broccoli and leeks. I can feel the heat from her eyes swollen with rage. Ocularly assailing My words have drowned in an ocean of youthful trauma. Her heart lost in dissension
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Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
Broccoli and leeks
Cold rains, wet and weary... seeping through the sky, spectres pass ’long side me... bent, with collars high, my visions are invisible and no one sees me cry. Minstrels of destruction... rapping at my door, naked anvils aching... heavy hammers roar, their monodies of emptiness pulse, bleeding through the floor. House of cards collapsing... sagging walls of wax, deuces in dissension... aces slip through cracks, the Joker’s lost and lumbers by, alone, along the tracks. Steeple steps dismantled... muted bells below, ruins quake and tremble... frozen in the snow, their pains implode within my brain while pale winds cruelly blow. Prophets tumble temples... residues of tea highways of no entrance... paths of destiny, where phantoms haunt my nightmare dreams, tell tales of roaming free. Foghorns moaning lonely... waves awash in sound silver schooner sinking... swirling round and round, at midnight’s stroke, the mainsail broke, and driftwood drifts aground. Silent seas misshapen... moonbeams painted *** teaspoons sifting ashes... fingers cold and numb, an incandescent candlestick’s impaled the sinking sun. Smothered fires smoking... oceans filled with ice, lightning lashing windows... blades from paradise, like tongues of limpid laughter licking wounds of sacrifice. Flowing fields of flowers... silent harmony, rolling river reveries... washing to the sea, my love, she was my daylight bliss, she once belonged to me.
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Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
Alone Again
Oh, Anne, your offences to me have been grievous: I thought from my wrath no atonement could save you; But Woman is made to command and deceive us— I look’d in your face, and I almost forgave you. I vow’d I could ne’er for a moment respect you, Yet thought that a day’s separation was long; When we met, I determined again to suspect you— Your smile soon convinced me suspicion was wrong. I swore, in a transport of young indignation, With fervent contempt evermore to disdain you: I saw you—my anger became admiration; And now, all my wish, all my hope’s to regain you. With beauty like yours, oh, how vain the contention! Thus lowly I sue for forgiveness before you;— At once to conclude such a fruitless dissension, Be false, my sweet Anne, when I cease to adore you!
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1.5k
To Anne
Angelic demons Loaded with hives Of violence and blood A rash of tribes Infected Dissected Inflected with sin Built to lose Broken to win God is with us In the end To the darkness We descend This job is not ours We did it for hours Brick by brick We built a wall And then the third took a fall We were on the rack Never going back On the rack Never going back Exit hell Don't pass go Paid in blood Real slow We saw red Thousands dead Needed a sacrifice Something to gain So they wouldn't be in pain We fought in vain Nothing but vanity Murderous sanity Forgive me father For diminishing this sanctity That you helped create They pricked our lips I poisoned the state This fear means they won Every victory They gain unamerican sone They are on the rack We are back On the rack We are back Back to hell Where the blood swells With good intentions And no dissension Security not guaranteed If we are freed We have no hope no will Just buckets of pain and swill Don't fight for the right Fight for the pain Fight for the fallen and the slain Send them in pieces to their maker Until you to are a husk A baker Of suffering and pain Of bodies lain Down in the name of hate Our appetites will not sate We will not satisfy Until that desert is spread Over the whole globe We will only testify Of the strobe Of ashes and ashes Dust to dust These beliefs we once held Sharpened with rust Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down
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Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
The Unholy Sorts of Angels
Angelic demons Loaded with hives Of violence and blood A rash of tribes Infected Dissected Inflected with sin Built to lose Broken to win God is with us In the end To the darkness We descend This job is not ours We did it for hours Brick by brick We built a wall And then the third took a fall We were on the rack Never going back On the rack Never going back Exit hell Don't pass go Paid in blood Real slow We saw red Thousands dead Needed a sacrifice Something to gain So they wouldn't be in pain We fought in vain Nothing but vanity Murderous sanity Forgive me father For diminishing this sanctity That you helped create They pricked our lips I poisoned the state This fear means they won Every victory They gain unamerican sone They are on the rack We are back On the rack We are back Back to hell Where the blood swells With good intentions And no dissension Security not guaranteed If we are freed We have no hope no will Just buckets of pain and swill Don't fight for the right Fight for the pain Fight for the fallen and the slain Send them in pieces to their maker Until you to are a husk A baker Of suffering and pain Of bodies lain Down in the name of hate Our appetites will not sate We will not satisfy Until that desert is spread Over the whole globe We will only testify Of the strobe Of ashes and ashes Dust to dust These beliefs we once held Sharpened with rust Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down
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Wanting to reach out I can't grasp just any hand so i can refrain and grab my own schizophrenic anarchy is always my second choice. So i tore rose pedals from the flower and yelled to the ever so guilty skies She loves me not! I must have been a sociopath in my previous life to quietly deal with all my strife and dissension with the acquainted A wise woman once told me *some people aren't content with their thoughts so they don't like to be alone* I lied and replied I AM with all of my polar opposites I am more alone than ever before, I can just blame the moon but i know that I need my ray of sunshine. not self pity, autobiographical
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
Alone
"Be that as it may" A stifling phrase With every good intention Wants peace to cease the cacophony But most often yields Dissension
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Suggestive Language (unfinished)
two bodies; once one. fumbling hands are now still, clasped on separate knees, separately shaking with separate lives. some words are best left unspoken and best left to speaking in bodies and tongues and without understanding as non-sensical as the birthmark shaped like a boat that she claimed was never on her back before. it wasn't there anymore. everything was removed. rent asunder. torn apart.
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Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
rent asunder by dissension
How do we find peace, is it not through making friends? Tell me how friends are made through exclusion. To leave others out of the circle sows fine seeds of distrust distrust creates dissension dissension then discord discord leads to arguments and arguments to anger anger brings about violence and from violence often death. Peace becomes buried under a blanket of bitterness and hate. There must be a way that there can come a day to show respect to each man throughout every land where all men become brothers instead of thought of as others. Exclusion drives men to war!
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Exclusion Does Not Create Peace
Everyone learns that convalescence turns to evanescence when reheated bubbles rise into effervescence. Conflicts turn with ease from shame to blame and wrap back around afflicting and constricting the veins. Tension to dissension when your worst thoughts slide by the side taking every abide on their pretentious and demented path to divide. This lesson on entropy is no radical notion. But rather a fanatical description of raw emotion. The most important connections we build in this life will be tested redundant with an abundance of strife. Perfection is impossible, we must only continue to row. Our reflection is the garden that we inevitably grow. It begins at one moment by sowing a single seed. Reach out to someone feeling lonesome because truly we are all in need. Or try again with heart in hand and if you fear for wasted time... *I love you. I forgive you.* These few words don't need to rhyme.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
No Need To Rhyme