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"divorcees" poems
There is, one supposes, a certain nobility In simply carrying on with the whole **** thing, Though that assumes some epiphany, Some clawing toward grace, or at least common decency. He had, in some once upon a time, Cast his lot with a better class of people, so to speak; It had not ended well, though, In line with how such things are resolved, His fall not a spectacular, tempestuous thing, But a gradual, veiled affair, not a fiery spectacle With metaphorical medals cut away, epaulets stripped, But a shaded silence, a shrouded yet palpable shunning. And so he is here, in this fading little city Perched forlornly on the banks of a nondescript little river, Having taken an apartment above a pair of offices (One occupied by a seemingly ancient and disinterested lawyer, The other by an ostensible private investigator) Which is sufficiently large and reasonably warm Come the seemingly perpetual winter. He lives, if not in such a manner As he was once accustomed to, comfortably enough: He has his practice, and an adjunct position At the little cow college down the road in Alfred, And there are the occasional women, Sad divorcees marooned in this hill country, Dewy-eyed undergraduates unable to discern Suit coats that are a bit shabby and somewhat passe (There is a haberdasher in Buffalo whose garments Are in the neighborhood of up-to-snuff, And he could certainly manage a trip Down to New York for better tailoring, Though he would be traveling in places and circles Where he is not remembered fondly.) Stepping outside, he encounter snowflakes, Light and unprepossessing, But he studies the sky anxiously, apprehensively (One learns that he must pay Nature its due fealty in these climes, And give into the primal, the instinctual) For he knows what can transpire When the wind blows off the big lake out west just so, Turning innocuous flurries into a malevolent blankness, Making the landscape inscrutable, alien, utterly terrifying.
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
A Certain Doctor Diver, In Private Practice, Hornell, New York
There is, one supposes, a certain nobility In simply carrying on with the whole **** thing, Though that assumes some epiphany, Some clawing toward grace, or at least common decency. He had, in some once upon a time, Cast his lot with a better class of people, so to speak; It had not ended well, though, In line with how such things are resolved, His fall not a spectacular, tempestuous thing, But a gradual, veiled affair, not a fiery spectacle With metaphorical medals cut away, epaulets stripped, But a shaded silence, a shrouded yet palpable shunning. And so he is here, in this fading little city Perched forlornly on the banks of a nondescript little river, Having taken an apartment above a pair of offices (One occupied by a seemingly ancient and disinterested lawyer, The other by an ostensible private investigator) Which is sufficiently large and reasonably warm Come the seemingly perpetual winter. He lives, if not in such a manner As he was once accustomed to, comfortably enough: He has his practice, and an adjunct position At the little cow college down the road in Alfred, And there are the occasional women, Sad divorcees marooned in this hill country, Dewy-eyed undergraduates unable to discern Suit coats that are a bit shabby and somewhat passe (There is a haberdasher in Buffalo whose garments Are in the neighborhood of up-to-snuff, And he could certainly manage a trip Down to New York for better tailoring, Though he would be traveling in places and circles Where he is not remembered fondly.) Stepping outside, he encounter snowflakes, Light and unprepossessing, But he studies the sky anxiously, apprehensively (One learns that he must pay Nature its due fealty in these climes, And give into the primal, the instinctual) For he knows what can transpire When the wind blows off the big lake out west just so, Turning innocuous flurries into a malevolent blankness, Making the landscape inscrutable, alien, utterly terrifying.
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42
Sunday 40,88 82 82 80 82 Between South Africa, Brazil and Macedonia 600-100-300 300 John Wilson, 300 + 40.82 Congress, eight letters, George Washington. Brazilian art gallery More than 1,300 years later, German, African and Chinese ****** arrive in South Africa, Mexico, Brazil, 60.6006 million 40600300600 (20) ******* divorcees, 8,8,8,8, Brazil, Brazil Brazil, 600 600 600, 600, 82 300, 300, 300 Brazil, 40.82 - another "teacher" in France France is full of ****** from Brazil 600-100 - Six dogs and ****** are full of the fruity aromas of Carmen Campbell, a woman who lives with prostitutes; Prostitutes have existed for 300,700 years (according to Tom Wilson) 300 8 George W. Ashington, USA Euro, Brazil, Brazil, Gabon, Morocco, Ra Ramalin, Harlem, 0.82, Latin America, Africa, Macedonia, South Africa, 40.82, Yobe Africa, Morocco, 40-82 years. MacDonald's, May 2, South Africa, Curse, United Kingdom, Russians, whores' ****** and G'ilimão de Mécoques 2011 6,000,000 days in South Africa, China, South Africa, Go-Go UK / EU. Yuku Uyu and 600, 600, 600, 600, 600 Google ****** Yeh, one Sunday, George Washington attended the coronation of George W. Murray 40.82 600-100-300 300 300 Tom Wilson has Good News for Ephraim in South Africa, ****** from Africa And South Africa bloom in the dust of South Africa. 82300300 has a place of landing for Brooklyn ****** Washington ****** and ****** from East New York in South Africa with 600 600 000 300 (8) 600 doctors, South Africa Google with more than 600 people. 5-300000 600,600,000,600,600 600,000 John Wilson, George Washington, 200,000 in 50000 - 60000600402 in the morning 6006,0066 3006 63 00000 100 600 600 600 600 ****** are here. 600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600, 600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,00,600,660,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600, 600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,60,6 ******* canned report 600600600 40, 82, Brazil, South African and possibly poisonous, 300B - ******* for Tom Wilson, Rudolf, Morocco 600-100-300300 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 1300 Brazilian Producers Paul Paulson, Wilson 2: 40.82, South Africa, South Africa and Brazil 600 600 600 United States' 'Hamster' Washington 100 6006006 Miami, Florida 300,600 82.3003 million more in Brazil, South Africa, Mexico and Russia; Tom Hamilton 40.82 to Morocco and Brazil, South Africa; Freedom in Ohio as a frontier wife, Macedonia, Brazil; United States, Spain, Brazil 20.8 Aborigines, Moroccan, Brooklyn and Harlem ****** 0.82, Decoration: Often, a professional, in fact, is a pre-recorded decision. Others see teenagers, while others see "magic." Doyle is the most vicious woman, of the bride for $15 per night to support her classmate, the "ex" ********** who is still a ********** The figures show that prostitutes are from the local community, that they are disgusting ****** and a woman who has been trafficked for less than a month can reduce stress she receives through using a ********** **** ******* your *** is your money! Your ******* donkeys, and donkeys are your money.
0
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
600 ****** [Human Trafficking & Rock'n'Roll]
Sunday 40,88 82 82 80 82 Between South Africa, Brazil and Macedonia 600-100-300 300 John Wilson, 300 + 40.82 Congress, eight letters, George Washington. Brazilian art gallery More than 1,300 years later, German, African and Chinese ****** arrive in South Africa, Mexico, Brazil, 60.6006 million 40600300600 (20) ******* divorcees, 8,8,8,8, Brazil, Brazil Brazil, 600 600 600, 600, 82 300, 300, 300 Brazil, 40.82 - another "teacher" in France France is full of ****** from Brazil 600-100 - Six dogs and ****** are full of the fruity aromas of Carmen Campbell, a woman who lives with prostitutes; Prostitutes have existed for 300,700 years (according to Tom Wilson) 300 8 George W. Ashington, USA Euro, Brazil, Brazil, Gabon, Morocco, Ra Ramalin, Harlem, 0.82, Latin America, Africa, Macedonia, South Africa, 40.82, Yobe Africa, Morocco, 40-82 years. MacDonald's, May 2, South Africa, Curse, United Kingdom, Russians, whores' ****** and G'ilimão de Mécoques 2011 6,000,000 days in South Africa, China, South Africa, Go-Go UK / EU. Yuku Uyu and 600, 600, 600, 600, 600 Google ****** Yeh, one Sunday, George Washington attended the coronation of George W. Murray 40.82 600-100-300 300 300 Tom Wilson has Good News for Ephraim in South Africa, ****** from Africa And South Africa bloom in the dust of South Africa. 82300300 has a place of landing for Brooklyn ****** Washington ****** and ****** from East New York in South Africa with 600 600 000 300 (8) 600 doctors, South Africa Google with more than 600 people. 5-300000 600,600,000,600,600 600,000 John Wilson, George Washington, 200,000 in 50000 - 60000600402 in the morning 6006,0066 3006 63 00000 100 600 600 600 600 ****** are here. 600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600, 600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,00,600,660,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600, 600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,600,60,6 ******* canned report 600600600 40, 82, Brazil, South African and possibly poisonous, 300B - ******* for Tom Wilson, Rudolf, Morocco 600-100-300300 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 6 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 600 1300 Brazilian Producers Paul Paulson, Wilson 2: 40.82, South Africa, South Africa and Brazil 600 600 600 United States' 'Hamster' Washington 100 6006006 Miami, Florida 300,600 82.3003 million more in Brazil, South Africa, Mexico and Russia; Tom Hamilton 40.82 to Morocco and Brazil, South Africa; Freedom in Ohio as a frontier wife, Macedonia, Brazil; United States, Spain, Brazil 20.8 Aborigines, Moroccan, Brooklyn and Harlem ****** 0.82, Decoration: Often, a professional, in fact, is a pre-recorded decision. Others see teenagers, while others see "magic." Doyle is the most vicious woman, of the bride for $15 per night to support her classmate, the "ex" ********** who is still a ********** The figures show that prostitutes are from the local community, that they are disgusting ****** and a woman who has been trafficked for less than a month can reduce stress she receives through using a ********** **** ******* your *** is your money! Your ******* donkeys, and donkeys are your money.
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3
I was not raised in religion, But in feminine spirituality. To my mother money is God. To my mother money is power. Second generation daddy issues Passed down three times. Words of wisdom repeated like psalms in a church house "Romance without finance is a nuisance" Three generations of divorcees. Is this ***** power? Taking on the burden of not selling myself short; Financial happiness versus mental. Feeling the guilt of sin Having not betrayed The Creator But rather my name, her face Falling in love in with love Despite its wallet. Who wouldn’t want cheap kisses Compared to an expensive heartache?
0
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
Gold Digger
There are roses in the road tear soaked tissues torn up pictures with letters on fire. They are the breakup play-list for hang overs and scratches on the hood from relationship status updates. The secret poems in songs of heartache and paintings thrown in the trash. A fingerless engagement ring unworn wedding dress and a honeymoon for one. The divorcees still wondering and the mothers and fathers who didn't quite make it There is never knowing and always wishing but never seeing it. Not to mentioned the ex you can't forget and the unfortunate person who can't afford to leave. all the widowed wives who are forgotten after death. and solders with no one to return home to. But all the while a broken chord amid the misfortune and sorrow of the world could not escape the thresholds of inevitable ends
0
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 8:47 AM UTC
Roses in the Road
Here, there's no such thing as being bare. It's less than rare. It's nonexistent. It's only fair. Humans just don't possess that kind of care. They're not capable of handling such truth. Of cherishing such intimacy. In this world it's weak to be naked. It's frowned on, where it should be sacred. It's made fun of & wasted. Turned from & degraded. Maybe if it wasn't, more would be vindicated. But we're not. We're medicated. We'd rather be sedated & faded. Then be invaded. But why does it have to be an "invade"? Because you're so scared of being a cliche? How dare everyone have the same band aid. Or the same problem. You think that'd create a bond. Where havens could be spawned. Where emotions wouldn't be yawned. But maybe you could look beyond.. yourself. And see where you both correspond. It's called a "bond".. But, of course, that's a dream. An unrealistic theme. Not even your spouse will let you see a tear gleam. Will let you hear their scream. But would rather teeter on a mental balance beam. Because this is our theme. This is our way. Keep every feeling, Every thought at bay. A way to push away. Say "I'm okay". Rather than be transparent. Rather than it be apparent. That all this suppression, Is why we're so incoherent.. to each other. Why we don't understand one another. Leaving each other. To find another. Another who has the same issue? It's not an issue. It's called life. It's natural. But we're made to feel it's not. "Stop being crazy", it's what we're taught. "You need to see someone", a lie we bought. Therapist are making quite a fortune off our emotional blood clot.   All I'm saying is expression might help. Expression might be the key. Maybe there'd be less shootings. Maybe there'd be less divorcees. Because you'd be surprised how much can be mended with a listening ear & a small amount of empathy.
0
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
Life Lessons of the Media.
Here, there's no such thing as being bare. It's less than rare. It's nonexistent. It's only fair. Humans just don't possess that kind of care. They're not capable of handling such truth. Of cherishing such intimacy. In this world it's weak to be naked. It's frowned on, where it should be sacred. It's made fun of & wasted. Turned from & degraded. Maybe if it wasn't, more would be vindicated. But we're not. We're medicated. We'd rather be sedated & faded. Then be invaded. But why does it have to be an "invade"? Because you're so scared of being a cliche? How dare everyone have the same band aid. Or the same problem. You think that'd create a bond. Where havens could be spawned. Where emotions wouldn't be yawned. But maybe you could look beyond.. yourself. And see where you both correspond. It's called a "bond".. But, of course, that's a dream. An unrealistic theme. Not even your spouse will let you see a tear gleam. Will let you hear their scream. But would rather teeter on a mental balance beam. Because this is our theme. This is our way. Keep every feeling, Every thought at bay. A way to push away. Say "I'm okay". Rather than be transparent. Rather than it be apparent. That all this suppression, Is why we're so incoherent.. to each other. Why we don't understand one another. Leaving each other. To find another. Another who has the same issue? It's not an issue. It's called life. It's natural. But we're made to feel it's not. "Stop being crazy", it's what we're taught. "You need to see someone", a lie we bought. Therapist are making quite a fortune off our emotional blood clot.   All I'm saying is expression might help. Expression might be the key. Maybe there'd be less shootings. Maybe there'd be less divorcees. Because you'd be surprised how much can be mended with a listening ear & a small amount of empathy.
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57
*He was too young for me. I should have just walked away. But God is no so kind to divorcees close to the age of forty with a lot of dissolutionment with urban life. My husband cheated on me with his secretary. Tell me you haven't heard that before. I met him at a family get together. a BBQ with awful food and cheap wine. it was his youth I think it glowed like freedom. All the emotions yet to happen. not all those that had already been. He dumped his girlfriend when he saw me. I don't know why she was pretty and perky and so very young. not like me at all. He caught me looking at him but I did not release my gaze. That was cruel he was a just a boy I found out later he was Twenty two he gave me all I needed at that time. All the things my rat ******* husband had never given to me. I admit I used him for his beauty and his life that shone from him. But I did not know I was falling in love with him. he stripped me with his eyes or smile. I could not wait to undress for him. My mother so wise said let him go honey. but I didn't. He moved in to my urban nest. the few hundred square feet that was mine where the world ended. I was miffed he did not have a job like I did. that he sat around playing Nintendo all day. But then he kissed me and said I love you baby. and I melted for him. I got angry when he was drinking with his friends. in my apartment when i got home from a hard day and I threw him out. I told him he was never going to be what I needed he was too young. He moved into his buddy's place. and called nme ten times a night Then I saw him again it was in the local delli I moved a can of caviar and he was buying steaks on the other side. I took him home to my place undressed as usual he would not wear his ****** He said I want you to have our baby. I wish he had just ****** me. All of a sudden I saw his vulnerability his youth his inexperience. I knew it was a trap for him. A trap I could not set. so I opened the cage the door left wide open. and he flew out into the wild rarified air above the mountains. a year later The night was cold snowfall had covered the old tired grey streets of new York. I was with a group of old friends. Still single in the resteraunt where we aways met. he was walking by and used his sweet warm breath to melt the ice from the window. he was looking at me. I stopped mid sentence. I thought I saw tears in his eyes. but they might have been in mine. as the frost regained control and he walked away into the winter night.*
0
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
To young to know.....a love story of New york
*He was too young for me. I should have just walked away. But God is no so kind to divorcees close to the age of forty with a lot of dissolutionment with urban life. My husband cheated on me with his secretary. Tell me you haven't heard that before. I met him at a family get together. a BBQ with awful food and cheap wine. it was his youth I think it glowed like freedom. All the emotions yet to happen. not all those that had already been. He dumped his girlfriend when he saw me. I don't know why she was pretty and perky and so very young. not like me at all. He caught me looking at him but I did not release my gaze. That was cruel he was a just a boy I found out later he was Twenty two he gave me all I needed at that time. All the things my rat ******* husband had never given to me. I admit I used him for his beauty and his life that shone from him. But I did not know I was falling in love with him. he stripped me with his eyes or smile. I could not wait to undress for him. My mother so wise said let him go honey. but I didn't. He moved in to my urban nest. the few hundred square feet that was mine where the world ended. I was miffed he did not have a job like I did. that he sat around playing Nintendo all day. But then he kissed me and said I love you baby. and I melted for him. I got angry when he was drinking with his friends. in my apartment when i got home from a hard day and I threw him out. I told him he was never going to be what I needed he was too young. He moved into his buddy's place. and called nme ten times a night Then I saw him again it was in the local delli I moved a can of caviar and he was buying steaks on the other side. I took him home to my place undressed as usual he would not wear his ****** He said I want you to have our baby. I wish he had just ****** me. All of a sudden I saw his vulnerability his youth his inexperience. I knew it was a trap for him. A trap I could not set. so I opened the cage the door left wide open. and he flew out into the wild rarified air above the mountains. a year later The night was cold snowfall had covered the old tired grey streets of new York. I was with a group of old friends. Still single in the resteraunt where we aways met. he was walking by and used his sweet warm breath to melt the ice from the window. he was looking at me. I stopped mid sentence. I thought I saw tears in his eyes. but they might have been in mine. as the frost regained control and he walked away into the winter night.*
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93
TV static paints shadows upon your features your infinite thirst pours one drink after another you stare into the emptiness consumed by a vacant demon an insecurity baring the face of my mother
0
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
Drunk Divorcees
He wasn't use to complements she would flirt with him and would wonder what's the catch. He thought there was a connection but there was a hidden agenda. He could never say how he felt for her because she would probably get weirded out living him alone. He thought about dating but the selection was very slim. He didn't have kids or want to raise anyone else's. He also met divorcees that weren't over the divorce or heartache they couldn't get over. He wasn't interested in getting married but did seek a way to be connected to another person. He never understood why people who are unhappy stay together using their kids as an excuse or because this history they don't want to let go of. Why do people cheat if they claim to love a person? How can people be so selfish and hurt others the worse is trying to justify it just own up you're in the wrong so it's not right. His mind raced with questions for failing couples living in the bubble of denial. He did get lost in his work since he was getting paid, he worked hard for every cent while others did nothing for 8 hours collecting a paycheck doing nothing to deserve it but that's on them and their conscience if they had one. He gave his all at work but everyone pointed out the regardless of all the other corrections he made. They finally gave him a thank you and told him he was doing a good job. It was soothing to finally feel appreciated. Most don't take pride in their work but he would give his all and not afraid to try. He didn't use people or take advantage of others even though would grind him to the bone.
0
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
Transition
He wasn't use to complements she would flirt with him and would wonder what's the catch. He thought there was a connection but there was a hidden agenda. He could never say how he felt for her because she would probably get weirded out living him alone. He thought about dating but the selection was very slim. He didn't have kids or want to raise anyone else's. He also met divorcees that weren't over the divorce or heartache they couldn't get over. He wasn't interested in getting married but did seek a way to be connected to another person. He never understood why people who are unhappy stay together using their kids as an excuse or because this history they don't want to let go of. Why do people cheat if they claim to love a person? How can people be so selfish and hurt others the worse is trying to justify it just own up you're in the wrong so it's not right. His mind raced with questions for failing couples living in the bubble of denial. He did get lost in his work since he was getting paid, he worked hard for every cent while others did nothing for 8 hours collecting a paycheck doing nothing to deserve it but that's on them and their conscience if they had one. He gave his all at work but everyone pointed out the regardless of all the other corrections he made. They finally gave him a thank you and told him he was doing a good job. It was soothing to finally feel appreciated. Most don't take pride in their work but he would give his all and not afraid to try. He didn't use people or take advantage of others even though would grind him to the bone.
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2
I sometimes wonder, if they just words. Spoken to seem true. To those mutiple divorcees that have said it before to others. Does it carry more weigh to mention it more? Does it hinder lovers from walking out the door. Cause to me there are too many I love you being said. And I'm sure to one of your many they are just simple words. To the true hearts of love. It probably means a lot more. These too many I love you truly do get heard. And to them they are not just words being said.
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Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
Too Many I Love You
the good guy supply ran dry 21st century bled them empty entitled smiles and toxic masculinity mistreating our lovers became trendy the nice girl merchandise is missing scorned women turned hazardous glassy eyes and defence mechanisms self sabotage never looked so glamorous maybe we're not as good as we think trying to match our collective catastrophes drunken *** and desperate divorcees damaged people cause the most casualties
0
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 7:45 AM UTC
No-Good-Generation