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"divulged" poems
How many chocolates did this person eat? If the chocolate was made before the chocolate was eaten. It melted away through the process of heating. But, how could the chocolate melt if the chocolate was almost freezing? Its exposure to the sunrise was apparent, But, at what time did it leave before becoming disparate? The time difference was dwelled in effect, before the chocolate was seen in such repent.    Therefore, the state of the chocolate has been pronounced viable. In the mouth of the person of which this question ultimately relies upon. In the sense of being eaten once it was made, while maintaining its sweet composure without heating or freezing away.    How many chocolates did this person indulge? If in reality it was only made an hour before it was divulged! Only this person could really say, to relive this encounter one must divulge away.    While the mystery revolves around the chocolates dense state, We must indulge in a chocolate now and allow this question to dissipate.    By: Michael M. De La Fuente
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May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
Chocolate Indulgence
Though it is such a beautiful pristine night, puffy fluffy sky a pelican had soaked spaghetti like limbs mangled and dangled thrusting thyself forward to comfortably drown in wet frozen crystals [I am a life I am blinking] Your feathers were flapping frosted and numbed Oh I bet the water was stinging yet pleasing - 656 55 3-4 the elderly woman said her kind soul with a phone number for SPCA wildlife rescue and rehabilitation the pelican is near death, I divulged with envy for that wave drowning you in warmth
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Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
Dying
Dear Perfect Girl, Grounded in the real world Taking care of herself like you’re rooted in a material one Your eyes and smile never cease to amaze But it’s your ambitions that set my heart ablaze Your laugh puts a smile on my face That seems to erase and replace The negative and repetitive If only for a second I love our similarities But our differences make it worthwile From your taste in music to your sense of style Because a venn diagram without differences is a circle And I’d rather go the extra five-thousand two-hundred and eighty feet To be close to you Than to already understand most of you By understanding myself Dear Perfect Girl, There are dimes that will do anything for a nickel And nickels out making dimes But I want your two cents And though I may laugh at it I take it to heart sometimes Because like a game of monopoly I don’t want to find myself back at the start And I don’t really watch chick flicks But I saw 500 Days of Summer And you’re my Autumn To which I’ll be sprung for in the winter I wear no mask for you Because I’ve divulged my past to you For you are presently in my future And though you may be a feminist I’ll try and be a perfect suitor Dear Perfect Girl, You say you’re OCD about some things But it’s your imperfections that are great for me And though I’m not sure I’ve met you yet I dare you to wait for me Because every day I improve myself In preparation for thee And a relationship you won’t forget I’ll wear knee pads and a helmet For when the day comes that I’m head over heels I’ll be able to get up in time to catch you When you fall in love Disney taught me to wish on the stars above And I’ve wished on every star Thrown a penny in every fountain And spent every 11:11 Wishing for you Perfect Girl
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Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 7:02 PM UTC
Dear Perfect Girl
Dear Perfect Girl, Grounded in the real world Taking care of herself like you’re rooted in a material one Your eyes and smile never cease to amaze But it’s your ambitions that set my heart ablaze Your laugh puts a smile on my face That seems to erase and replace The negative and repetitive If only for a second I love our similarities But our differences make it worthwile From your taste in music to your sense of style Because a venn diagram without differences is a circle And I’d rather go the extra five-thousand two-hundred and eighty feet To be close to you Than to already understand most of you By understanding myself Dear Perfect Girl, There are dimes that will do anything for a nickel And nickels out making dimes But I want your two cents And though I may laugh at it I take it to heart sometimes Because like a game of monopoly I don’t want to find myself back at the start And I don’t really watch chick flicks But I saw 500 Days of Summer And you’re my Autumn To which I’ll be sprung for in the winter I wear no mask for you Because I’ve divulged my past to you For you are presently in my future And though you may be a feminist I’ll try and be a perfect suitor Dear Perfect Girl, You say you’re OCD about some things But it’s your imperfections that are great for me And though I’m not sure I’ve met you yet I dare you to wait for me Because every day I improve myself In preparation for thee And a relationship you won’t forget I’ll wear knee pads and a helmet For when the day comes that I’m head over heels I’ll be able to get up in time to catch you When you fall in love Disney taught me to wish on the stars above And I’ve wished on every star Thrown a penny in every fountain And spent every 11:11 Wishing for you Perfect Girl
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51
Wondering what I should write and floundering in my own confusion I thought – why not write about poems that set me thinking what poems are A poem could be anything.......! at best, distilled thoughts put into rhyme or a moment caught in time a window glimpse into the world an engrossing passion’s ardent curl a snap shot of scenes from Nature- wild or a slice of life, birth or death        sometimes it could be a yearning   or an image long hung on a pole a thought turned inside out or the emptying of a mind about to spill it could be the liberation of a fancy, for long held in thralldom a gnawing pain, long suppressed or a secret, never divulged        As I pondered over the subjects’ enormity and a poem’s vast scope, I asked myself- ‘Why hesitate?’ soon I felt a stir inside, my thoughts broke loose a terrible block lifted off my head my silence became audible I embroidered these thoughts into the pattern of a poem Here it is before you, have a look at it Will it annoy you or will you enjoy!
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May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 8:20 AM UTC
A Poem
Alone with this desk, And a notebook chock-fulled with paper; Endless.. he chomp everything away. Things truly aren’t easy, The silence makes it harder. Hey music, fill the air; For not all truths, But laughs of frauds may break out. Just like the old days. Just like the lady boss, Just..maybe. There should be dancing all around, Where crowds should chip in And take things in stern. Errands were not decors – Trespass! Like mini ciphers, Digits, letters, they knock the drill out. Only a couple more days left, But in ignominy, This generation may fall; How pitiable.. With such marks and inkblots, The source remains unrecognized. They’re used to seize papers like that, Although such are committing theft already. Left were words, Can’t spell it unerringly; Yet the hearsays divulged its address, So now, it’s time to slam this tome; End the toil that has always been the crook! Go outside, For the sun’s rays are there! Goodbye to this aged chair, And to this notebook full of nicks, With new freedom, We shall embrace.. Everything.. “Ciao” to what’s new, ‘Coz this is the real world! Oh college days! (7/25/13 @xirlleelang)
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
The Everyday Poetic Routine of a College Student
In anticipation of the too-few precious hours in tandem, we divulged our carnal cravings at each others’ hands, but omitted fragments, saving them for some other day, finding them too truthful. When you hold your body to mine, as you have told me you will, I want a flurry of colored breath, peach and magentas and crimsons slipping translucently from every part of me and wafting in and out and between us like a graceful fog, and not just the force of fingers that have waited too long to touch, but the electrostatic brushes of life’s restlessness falling slowly into their own gravity as we learn to trust the moment. Our lips are full of nerves and that is why a kiss is so much more than symbolic. I placed my lips to the skin of an orange and I was met with the sensuality of the whole terrain of this world. Intimacy then, is the slow press that reassures humanity – the invitation into a world with no walls – the rush of blood that comes from being completely receptive – that is the kiss I want with your soul. After all the epochs of lovers, these are all the same words, but they are lanterns bouncing across the plains and sparking anew in the way that the naive are always entranced by the lighter in their hand when they first learn how to light a cigarette, elated and dizzy from the ***** Twinkling. Sometimes all it takes is a breath and I am light and wind and red paper confetti and the moon and a golden orb that turns all it touches into a shining constancy of what’s called love – and I visit your heart knowing that you can’t tell it’s me, and then I must leave– and I know that I was not in my body, but that it must have kept existing while I was gone because I always wake up in tears, and someone had to cry them. Conventionality dies between us and there are no titles or promises to speak of. I once found security in labels, only to find that they leave no room for the inevitable growth and weathering of time. So I ask little of you – only that you are always true with me, and that you occasionally put your hand in mine.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
Your Hand In Mine
In anticipation of the too-few precious hours in tandem, we divulged our carnal cravings at each others’ hands, but omitted fragments, saving them for some other day, finding them too truthful. When you hold your body to mine, as you have told me you will, I want a flurry of colored breath, peach and magentas and crimsons slipping translucently from every part of me and wafting in and out and between us like a graceful fog, and not just the force of fingers that have waited too long to touch, but the electrostatic brushes of life’s restlessness falling slowly into their own gravity as we learn to trust the moment. Our lips are full of nerves and that is why a kiss is so much more than symbolic. I placed my lips to the skin of an orange and I was met with the sensuality of the whole terrain of this world. Intimacy then, is the slow press that reassures humanity – the invitation into a world with no walls – the rush of blood that comes from being completely receptive – that is the kiss I want with your soul. After all the epochs of lovers, these are all the same words, but they are lanterns bouncing across the plains and sparking anew in the way that the naive are always entranced by the lighter in their hand when they first learn how to light a cigarette, elated and dizzy from the ***** Twinkling. Sometimes all it takes is a breath and I am light and wind and red paper confetti and the moon and a golden orb that turns all it touches into a shining constancy of what’s called love – and I visit your heart knowing that you can’t tell it’s me, and then I must leave– and I know that I was not in my body, but that it must have kept existing while I was gone because I always wake up in tears, and someone had to cry them. Conventionality dies between us and there are no titles or promises to speak of. I once found security in labels, only to find that they leave no room for the inevitable growth and weathering of time. So I ask little of you – only that you are always true with me, and that you occasionally put your hand in mine.
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6
Always on the search for truth I Hide from it’s Face now and for the first time Because Ignorance is Bliss I wouldn’t dream of editing you And am Glad you Found someone to talk to But every now and then I wish it wasn’t me I know you well enough now to see you won’t be falling for me You won’t be listening for my Heart Beat The Formers You’ve divulged these secrets to me Open as a book I’ll bend the spine to make my crease clear and visible There is one who’s left a lurking Impression I get to see the stains They won’t wash out I think it’s too late I wouldn’t have been enough Enough to make Taintless the mess they’ve left behind Lets pretend that I’m ignorant to what You and I both know
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Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
Ignorance is Bliss (Ignorance is Ignorance)
They sell sandwiches and little nightmares with vanity inside. i glide to a booth and schmooze the next wet group of compromised - And Charlotte's web of insular jokes, snare me from outside my comfort zone... and i own the green eggs and ham of our sepia tone in the septic lake of our laughing groan. We enjoy the view. I drink to be We and Apart from you. But the kegs dredge. They plunder the blunderbuss of our best shot. With Silencer. We crowd loudly in the Big Easy of our modern strife. We scrape with dull Lives, save those with sharp Eyes that see spigots as unseen Blithe ! We gather in the Hemisphere of our Wanton Anonymity, as divulged mirrors in a House of Cards.... All of my Best Jokes are Friends With hearts.... and Then some...
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Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
BISON WITCHES NO CAULDRON, ONLY KEGS....
I know some deep pain saddens you now It has been nesting in your heart for long Breeding in the silence of your soul It leaves your body n' mind awfully sick It intensifies with every deepening night Leaving the wound in your heart severely bleeding Something that you haven’t fully divulged Robbing you off all your cheer and ebullience, I can feel the smoldering of your heart How I wish I could fan away those aches Wipe off all the pain from your body n' mind Or at least share a bit of it, dear sweet Kim! Even when you wear a mask impenetrable Or sublimate your feelings through lovely verse I can gauge the depth of despair you feel inside And sense the rising palpitations of your heart. When your eyes strain to read what is on the screen You feel, you are deprived of the only pleasure you have Though you hoped things would improve in course of time When your eyesight got badly impaired, you sank in despair Even when distanced, please know I am near Somewhere so close, as an unseen presence Staying by your side, to wipe your tears away Praying for you ever and wishing you all good You were the darling of this great poetry site Your presence is sorely missed by all We wish you to be back with your balmy words Eager to read your lovely verse, proclaiming love Life is strange with sudden twists and turns But never ever give up, nor lose hope Believe, at any time there can be a turn around After the bleary night, comes the bright morn Again the sun shall show up in the East Darkness will recede and light shall descend The meadows with dew drops shall shine  And the woods with the song of birds will ring Look up to God in issues you cannot handle Call Him again to your aid when you battle with life He cannot but yield to the voice of your calling And instantly heal your heart, now deeply bleeding
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May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
To Kim Johanna Baker
I know some deep pain saddens you now It has been nesting in your heart for long Breeding in the silence of your soul It leaves your body n' mind awfully sick It intensifies with every deepening night Leaving the wound in your heart severely bleeding Something that you haven’t fully divulged Robbing you off all your cheer and ebullience, I can feel the smoldering of your heart How I wish I could fan away those aches Wipe off all the pain from your body n' mind Or at least share a bit of it, dear sweet Kim! Even when you wear a mask impenetrable Or sublimate your feelings through lovely verse I can gauge the depth of despair you feel inside And sense the rising palpitations of your heart. When your eyes strain to read what is on the screen You feel, you are deprived of the only pleasure you have Though you hoped things would improve in course of time When your eyesight got badly impaired, you sank in despair Even when distanced, please know I am near Somewhere so close, as an unseen presence Staying by your side, to wipe your tears away Praying for you ever and wishing you all good You were the darling of this great poetry site Your presence is sorely missed by all We wish you to be back with your balmy words Eager to read your lovely verse, proclaiming love Life is strange with sudden twists and turns But never ever give up, nor lose hope Believe, at any time there can be a turn around After the bleary night, comes the bright morn Again the sun shall show up in the East Darkness will recede and light shall descend The meadows with dew drops shall shine  And the woods with the song of birds will ring Look up to God in issues you cannot handle Call Him again to your aid when you battle with life He cannot but yield to the voice of your calling And instantly heal your heart, now deeply bleeding
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40
To the boys who just want to touch me You must know that I am not a momentary happiness type of person Overthinking is my forté My name is not chastity Nor is it easy rather Difficult and complicated Hard to crack open There is no sweet center waiting to be divulged I am more like the sun A ball of pure fire that burns at the touch Anxious at the thought of unfamilar palms and fingertips Meant to be admired from a distance I will warn you not to get close to me For magnets swim in my blood And I cling to no extent I am Surrounded by a force field I do not let down my guard So if you want to touch me You must first Learn to love me.
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Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
To the boys who just want to touch me
Artfully crafted and dipped in true peril. Contemplation of nights well spent. Forgetful of "two sides to a coin". Realizations of a morning hell bent. Secrets and rumors all divulged. In a world filled with mess. Complications not easily dissolved. I seem to fill like the best. Condemnation comes in the multiple. Surpassed only by guilt. True character shines in these moments. Compassion to the tears that were spilled. Take from me more than words. Rhetoric that could woe any opposition. Instead take comfort in what you know. Some form of trust - a new composition.
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Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
Messy
A bush lark in the Greenwood forest sings. She sings all day long near the mountain springs. Is she trilling in notes so plaintive of her missing mate? Unleashing her heart of its doleful weight? Or easing the pangs of a heart that starves For a soulmate yet to come for whom she craves? Or sending a missive through the aerial route Sounding in every ear a low melancholy note? From the covert of dark leaves, her song percolates. Through the sinews of my heart it permeates, Striking a cord between two souls equally deprived, Stirring in me an inarticulate ache, never once divulged.
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Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
Cord
Genuine conversations were passion's static overblown through classical lover's eyes. i. Confessing unrevealed tries in variation with grieving cries. Sighs and moans were touched and savored everyday, at the same place. ii. Unexpected completions were deviously divulged over The temptress' despair, while cardboard arrogance compressed within aluminum kisses. iii. Chemical liquids were drawing attention, fingertips quivering at the sight of your eyes. Palpable tension cutting through the styrofoam walls, that we gently established to separate this sweet seduction. iv. Demolition began once playful vengeance intervened. No longer did the requiem delay its flow and crunch, for its succulent grin was painted on his chest and carried on his hands. v. Cards were drawn to encaustic wax papers, captivating lover's delight. With sudden frustration, we searched evanescently, for a piece of carton to hide from the fiery rains. vi. While puzzled Questionnaires were imprinted on catatonic embraces, we both gnawed on the bone for answers; barking gently at our feet, we tangled with uncompromising pretenses, giving ourselves multiple aberrations with heartbreaking waves. Tonight I cuddle the thorns and the knives, contemplating lethargic affections, infected with veracity's confection, ignoring the ideal that I fell unfulfilled.
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Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 12:03 AM UTC
Unfulfilled
About 4 years into the friendship, or whatever it had by that stage become, during a chat on our Internet **** preferences over badly-filtered Americanos in the UCD student cafe, I said to her " I think I enjoyed our friendship more when we used to get coffee and just laugh for twenty minutes. " And after a half second of unusual silence from her, those pools of ever-renewing blue eyes of hers almost incisions into my consciousness, I added" That was pretty unique." And then I laughed unbound, and she almost shrugged and definitely smirked as if to say "this is where I am now, it took some time for me to realise but it's where I've always been." Unapologetic, as only she could seem to be. And it was, like any tryst, fling or abandoned half-romance is, utterly unique. Half on the way to becoming something we were going to hang on to and definitely regret and half-stopped, sulking out of a puddle, dead damp weight created by the differences we made ourselves for the other to behold and dismantle. The immediate was meant for us, first the attraction, then the disgust, then the despair, then the cursing off, then round to the intrigue all over again. She remained the great question mark of my undergraduate years. Heartaches after her were equally demeaning, but far more easily explained. You know you've found someone irreplaceable when they tell things you really shouldn't know, things shoved up in boxes for years, things too unformed to be really caught sounding out, in the moments after your first kiss. And every clever undergraduate will tell you how negative all connotations of "irreplaceable" are. And yet these are the backhanded good graces, the immeasurable gifts that memory serves I wear this like a wound I can find wry mirth at the very sight of, I have learned all this from her without her ever intending These memories are indented in a music box with an imitation sacred heart all mine distempered by the candid lines of a girl who never wanted religion, divulged somewhere in our seat of learning.
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Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
She Was Eve When We Were Awkward
About 4 years into the friendship, or whatever it had by that stage become, during a chat on our Internet **** preferences over badly-filtered Americanos in the UCD student cafe, I said to her " I think I enjoyed our friendship more when we used to get coffee and just laugh for twenty minutes. " And after a half second of unusual silence from her, those pools of ever-renewing blue eyes of hers almost incisions into my consciousness, I added" That was pretty unique." And then I laughed unbound, and she almost shrugged and definitely smirked as if to say "this is where I am now, it took some time for me to realise but it's where I've always been." Unapologetic, as only she could seem to be. And it was, like any tryst, fling or abandoned half-romance is, utterly unique. Half on the way to becoming something we were going to hang on to and definitely regret and half-stopped, sulking out of a puddle, dead damp weight created by the differences we made ourselves for the other to behold and dismantle. The immediate was meant for us, first the attraction, then the disgust, then the despair, then the cursing off, then round to the intrigue all over again. She remained the great question mark of my undergraduate years. Heartaches after her were equally demeaning, but far more easily explained. You know you've found someone irreplaceable when they tell things you really shouldn't know, things shoved up in boxes for years, things too unformed to be really caught sounding out, in the moments after your first kiss. And every clever undergraduate will tell you how negative all connotations of "irreplaceable" are. And yet these are the backhanded good graces, the immeasurable gifts that memory serves I wear this like a wound I can find wry mirth at the very sight of, I have learned all this from her without her ever intending These memories are indented in a music box with an imitation sacred heart all mine distempered by the candid lines of a girl who never wanted religion, divulged somewhere in our seat of learning.
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26
He showed himself today; A trespasser on the land where leaves reign. The morning sun proved his Achilles heel, In the space where my inner soul And the outside world collide. “I can see you.” The words are a dance - Hot chocolate and cotton-candy, Swirling sluggishly together in sweet adoration; He melts at the exposure. And at the tip of her engine roaring lips Heat divulged his truth, young and bare – The David fighting the Goliath air. Surrender your almond sun skin and Forfeit the strawberries in your hair. He feasts and diminishes, With no appreciation for the warmth, But coal coated shame burning into ash As bloodied juices dangle in anguish. The calendar vigorously holds deep, intrepid letters: “Beyond the Autumn lines, Winter quivers with fear.” Sealed lips savor their secret: Winter just trespassed here.
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Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 11:57 AM UTC
Trespasser
I sit here... Undiagnosed. Myriad symptoms that tell a thousand stories. Plethora of aches that divulged where things may have veered off course. Those around offered what they could. I face open palms daily and I recognise them to be gestures of good will and empathy. I accept with only appreciation and gratitude. But the wisest could only provide uncertainty at best. This is me. And I'm undiagnosed.
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May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
Undiagnosed
I haven't really laughed since 2009 He said, He then divulged his struggles As I did mine We spoke of the mutual regret about not keeping in touch But with conflicting schedules, relocations and studies It is comprehensible we veered in opposite directions and lost contact My estranged bestfriend We reminiscenced about the time when we were school kids In stiff shirts, massive floppy hats And giant blazers we practically drowned in How eager we were to go home When the siren went off at 3:05pm The shanenigans at the pavilion In sixth form When we were the lords of the academy A strong grip on my giant mug as if it were the holy grail Stirring my something that ends with cinno Huddled in the corner of a cozy eatery In his company once again it felt as though I had arrived home where fire burns incessantly in the fire place On a winter's night With a soft blanket over my shoulders We laughed about my truancy And how he got kicked out of the ruby team on account of his rather lanky physique He imitated our biology teacher and tears flowed down my cheeks That kind of laughter You feel in your core And your whole body shakes So captivated by the various discussions We both forgot to sip on our steaming beverages He narrated a few short stories about the events that have taken place since we last conversed I in turn narrated mine or lack thereof He emphatically tilted his head to the side God, I had missed those gestures of his It all came flooding back His mannerisms The way he moves his hands when he speaks  as if he is trying to literally hold the conversation For what seemed like a lifetime Before saying goodbye Dead-eyed We stared into each other's eyes Almost as if to telepathically say Do you remember the time When we were so alive.
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
Do you remember the time.
I haven't really laughed since 2009 He said, He then divulged his struggles As I did mine We spoke of the mutual regret about not keeping in touch But with conflicting schedules, relocations and studies It is comprehensible we veered in opposite directions and lost contact My estranged bestfriend We reminiscenced about the time when we were school kids In stiff shirts, massive floppy hats And giant blazers we practically drowned in How eager we were to go home When the siren went off at 3:05pm The shanenigans at the pavilion In sixth form When we were the lords of the academy A strong grip on my giant mug as if it were the holy grail Stirring my something that ends with cinno Huddled in the corner of a cozy eatery In his company once again it felt as though I had arrived home where fire burns incessantly in the fire place On a winter's night With a soft blanket over my shoulders We laughed about my truancy And how he got kicked out of the ruby team on account of his rather lanky physique He imitated our biology teacher and tears flowed down my cheeks That kind of laughter You feel in your core And your whole body shakes So captivated by the various discussions We both forgot to sip on our steaming beverages He narrated a few short stories about the events that have taken place since we last conversed I in turn narrated mine or lack thereof He emphatically tilted his head to the side God, I had missed those gestures of his It all came flooding back His mannerisms The way he moves his hands when he speaks  as if he is trying to literally hold the conversation For what seemed like a lifetime Before saying goodbye Dead-eyed We stared into each other's eyes Almost as if to telepathically say Do you remember the time When we were so alive.
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45
Written with my dearest Dane Johnson This grove of insanity, perhaps it is that you wish to get lucky? We walk hand in hand. Luck, being so subjective we forget to define. Ultimatums come hitherto, I'm afraid your luck has run dry. I can't buy any more time to convince you or I that someday we may see eye to eye. My, oh my, please don't cry. Who's really winning when everyone's sinning? Yet the world keeps on spinning to our wrecked hearts. I crave the fire and yet don't like to get burned. As we undress, we softly caress our scars. We avoid the  pain by closing our eyes, but it's something we both can't stop feeling. And yet we continue invariably denying. And the silence we share speaks more words than would be divulged had we done otherwise. The words sent in secret go unnoticed by everything, but my heart has made it difficult to look in the mirror and see the beauty of anything we ever had. Mirrors show nothing of the pain that pictures do, because then I have to see your shining face with your sparkling eyes, always your eyes. But you never felt the tears that fell from them. We don't know the touch of each others pain. Your pained words take on more than you are. And yet we find peace at lust's end. And it is with that end that we are no more. We've known all along that all we have ever wanted to be is more than the silence that echos in the sliver of space left between our fast beating hearts. I could see it in your eyes when you forgot to guard the doors in. And now my door opens to a new light. Silence is golden, but what was once sliver could become silver, oh so easily. However lighthearted pennies are, the trouble is not worth the pain. She smiles quietly watching him walk away from penny lane.
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Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:32 AM UTC
Penny Lane
Written with my dearest Dane Johnson This grove of insanity, perhaps it is that you wish to get lucky? We walk hand in hand. Luck, being so subjective we forget to define. Ultimatums come hitherto, I'm afraid your luck has run dry. I can't buy any more time to convince you or I that someday we may see eye to eye. My, oh my, please don't cry. Who's really winning when everyone's sinning? Yet the world keeps on spinning to our wrecked hearts. I crave the fire and yet don't like to get burned. As we undress, we softly caress our scars. We avoid the  pain by closing our eyes, but it's something we both can't stop feeling. And yet we continue invariably denying. And the silence we share speaks more words than would be divulged had we done otherwise. The words sent in secret go unnoticed by everything, but my heart has made it difficult to look in the mirror and see the beauty of anything we ever had. Mirrors show nothing of the pain that pictures do, because then I have to see your shining face with your sparkling eyes, always your eyes. But you never felt the tears that fell from them. We don't know the touch of each others pain. Your pained words take on more than you are. And yet we find peace at lust's end. And it is with that end that we are no more. We've known all along that all we have ever wanted to be is more than the silence that echos in the sliver of space left between our fast beating hearts. I could see it in your eyes when you forgot to guard the doors in. And now my door opens to a new light. Silence is golden, but what was once sliver could become silver, oh so easily. However lighthearted pennies are, the trouble is not worth the pain. She smiles quietly watching him walk away from penny lane.
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Tumor bloom Tumor grew Tumor who Rumors flew Tumor removed Tumor who We still can’t figure out what is wrong with you And you can’t raise your hand in a test tube Bloated yellow belly on hands of blue Investigate through shaky fingers, how dare you It’s only our job to watch you Watch you fade away, cry at your funeral An through sobs of joy, claim we were there for you Are you still with Us? Are you still with Us? Well here’s another object we can put a piece of your soul in Chock full of nothing at the bottom of the ocean ----- Well, I only stuck around to hear the details from your mouth Perhaps to share some with you, but you never asked, you assumed Just like I did when he told me he did it with a smug, smug grin Just like I did when I returned to my body with plastic near every inch Guilty by the first, but I swear I wasn’t there for the rest Take a dose by ten, wash it down with tainted gin, let’s see how well you land I wanna see how well your body lands And all this I’ve gathered through a hell made up of your eyes Didn’t have the luxury of tape to ease my long-gone mind There were some things to repress, long before this I’ve pried open every vault, to find this wasn’t one of them No, this wasn’t one of them And your spies, my friends, were your spies Who are you this time And my friends, were your spies So I divulged the icing with a glazed smile Yeah I divulged nothing, but I tried I tried Closing my eyes I see your future objects An one day you’ll be under the curtain Yes, one day you’ll be under the curtain Observed, abducted, catatonic, fried This world hates absolution When I’m gone Maybe a ghost can jog my memory That was too much for you to do ---- Tumor bloom Tumor grew Rumors flew Tumor removed Tumor who? Tumor who?
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Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 7:10 PM UTC
Moving Shadows on Still Objects
Tumor bloom Tumor grew Tumor who Rumors flew Tumor removed Tumor who We still can’t figure out what is wrong with you And you can’t raise your hand in a test tube Bloated yellow belly on hands of blue Investigate through shaky fingers, how dare you It’s only our job to watch you Watch you fade away, cry at your funeral An through sobs of joy, claim we were there for you Are you still with Us? Are you still with Us? Well here’s another object we can put a piece of your soul in Chock full of nothing at the bottom of the ocean ----- Well, I only stuck around to hear the details from your mouth Perhaps to share some with you, but you never asked, you assumed Just like I did when he told me he did it with a smug, smug grin Just like I did when I returned to my body with plastic near every inch Guilty by the first, but I swear I wasn’t there for the rest Take a dose by ten, wash it down with tainted gin, let’s see how well you land I wanna see how well your body lands And all this I’ve gathered through a hell made up of your eyes Didn’t have the luxury of tape to ease my long-gone mind There were some things to repress, long before this I’ve pried open every vault, to find this wasn’t one of them No, this wasn’t one of them And your spies, my friends, were your spies Who are you this time And my friends, were your spies So I divulged the icing with a glazed smile Yeah I divulged nothing, but I tried I tried Closing my eyes I see your future objects An one day you’ll be under the curtain Yes, one day you’ll be under the curtain Observed, abducted, catatonic, fried This world hates absolution When I’m gone Maybe a ghost can jog my memory That was too much for you to do ---- Tumor bloom Tumor grew Rumors flew Tumor removed Tumor who? Tumor who?
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Written with the lovely Kyla This grove of insanity, perhaps it is that you wish to get lucky? We walk hand in hand. Luck, being so subjective we forget to define. Ultimatums come hitherto, I'm afraid your luck has run dry. I can't buy any more time to convince you or I that someday we may see eye to eye. My, oh my, please don't cry. Who's really winning when everyone's sinning? Yet the world keeps on spinning amidst our wrecked hearts. I crave the fire and yet don't like to get burned. As we undress, we softly caress each our scars. We avoid the pain by closing our eyes, but it's something we both can't stop feeling. And yet we continue invariably denying. And the silence we share speaks more words than would be divulged had we done otherwise. The words sent in secret go unnoticed by everything, but my heart has made it difficult to look in the mirror and see the beauty of anything we ever had. Mirrors show nothing of the pain that pictures do, because then I have to see your shining face with your sparkling eyes, always your eyes. But you never felt the tears that fell from them. We don't know the touch of each others pain. Your pained words take on more than you are. And yet we find peace at lust's end. And it is with that end that we are no more. We've known all along that all we have ever wanted to be is more than the silence that echos in the sliver of space left between our fast beating hearts. I could see it in your eyes when you forgot to guard the doors in. And now my door opens to a new light. Silence is golden, but what was once a sliver could become silver, oh so easily. However lighthearted pennies are, the trouble is not worth the pain. She smiles quietly watching him walk away from penny lane.
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Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
Penny Lane
Written with the lovely Kyla This grove of insanity, perhaps it is that you wish to get lucky? We walk hand in hand. Luck, being so subjective we forget to define. Ultimatums come hitherto, I'm afraid your luck has run dry. I can't buy any more time to convince you or I that someday we may see eye to eye. My, oh my, please don't cry. Who's really winning when everyone's sinning? Yet the world keeps on spinning amidst our wrecked hearts. I crave the fire and yet don't like to get burned. As we undress, we softly caress each our scars. We avoid the pain by closing our eyes, but it's something we both can't stop feeling. And yet we continue invariably denying. And the silence we share speaks more words than would be divulged had we done otherwise. The words sent in secret go unnoticed by everything, but my heart has made it difficult to look in the mirror and see the beauty of anything we ever had. Mirrors show nothing of the pain that pictures do, because then I have to see your shining face with your sparkling eyes, always your eyes. But you never felt the tears that fell from them. We don't know the touch of each others pain. Your pained words take on more than you are. And yet we find peace at lust's end. And it is with that end that we are no more. We've known all along that all we have ever wanted to be is more than the silence that echos in the sliver of space left between our fast beating hearts. I could see it in your eyes when you forgot to guard the doors in. And now my door opens to a new light. Silence is golden, but what was once a sliver could become silver, oh so easily. However lighthearted pennies are, the trouble is not worth the pain. She smiles quietly watching him walk away from penny lane.
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Your 'Top TRP' news team has just learnt that A consortium of fanatics and hypocrites now claim That the proprietorship of 'God' is now with them And will spew hatred on anyone disobeying them. Our unnameable “reliable” sources tell us that Anyone desiring to worship 'God' “more perfectly,” Henceforth, must follow their rules quite strictly Or floggings will be handed out quite promptly. Our brave insider informants have divulged that At last have awaken our pious priests and scholars To discuss these “disturbing new developments;” But they're upset most about lost revenue streams. The atheists were seen rejoicing and saying that There is no need any more, *“for us to self-promote While our competitors repeatedly self-mutilate.”* But have they forgotten, Stalin also preached hate? Our unquestionably reliable survey tells us that We are angry, sad, glad, disgusted and also clueless In roughly equal measure. But most are just curious: “How all this bla-bla will effect commodity prices?” There was however, an 'odd' man who said that God is Love and God does not hate. Will turn to rust He who chooses hate. *“Not in someone's deep pocket Will I find God. But God I'll find, always in my heart.”*
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Breaking news !!
I have secrets. Not really. The thing about secrets: everyone has them. It doesn't matter how close you feel to someone. If you know someone, you keep secrets from them. To avoid keeping secrets from someone is to speak your every thought and conceal no transient stirring of opinion. And who can boast that they have never held their thoughts in check for the sparing of an unwilling or unwitting ear? Indeed I have no secrets from others, simply sides I have not shown them. And no one can be my closest confidant, for there are questions I have never been asked. So when you feel I am keeping something from you do not assume it is my malicious vouchsafe that I guard from the daylight. The things I tell others are as readily apparent in me as the steps I take, the things I have not divulged merely the undersides of my feet, not displayed but ever present. But there are things I have not divulged within me that have been scrutinized and been subjected to taboo. These for want of a better word, we can call secrets. They are small motes of golden truth which swim in my bones and glitter in flames of indignation. And they are alive for they move throughout my entire being and use quick teeth to try to rend me open. They thirst, these infinitesimal planets, for the sun which casts light on everything and bears nothing in more genial light than its neighbor. I rather suspect they would appreciate that equanimity. However were I to free them, to cast asunder their parasitic bonds, I would be cast from my comfort and tormented, guilty as a twin shamed for his brother's faults. So what am I to do? These glazed traits, my inner selves, have teeth so I feed them; I feed them with knowledge and the comfort that they are not unique, for others are feasted upon by the unknowable and un-"what"-able demons that lie in wait in their bodies; I feed them with promises, so infantile yet that they cannot be tested for emptiness, of an eventual release and the opportunity to cast loose the bonds of disgust with which my peers lasso them. And they grow larger. They are engorged with hope. Still when the beast grows larger, larger grows its bite. And when I am at a loss to placate my secret in-dwellers with hope, they gnaw. And the bites which at one point might have been an irksome scrabbling at my heart now cave in my resolve and threaten my breathing with an erstwhile unspent vigor.
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Jun 9, 2010
Jun 9, 2010 at 1:46 PM UTC
Nolo Contendere
I have secrets. Not really. The thing about secrets: everyone has them. It doesn't matter how close you feel to someone. If you know someone, you keep secrets from them. To avoid keeping secrets from someone is to speak your every thought and conceal no transient stirring of opinion. And who can boast that they have never held their thoughts in check for the sparing of an unwilling or unwitting ear? Indeed I have no secrets from others, simply sides I have not shown them. And no one can be my closest confidant, for there are questions I have never been asked. So when you feel I am keeping something from you do not assume it is my malicious vouchsafe that I guard from the daylight. The things I tell others are as readily apparent in me as the steps I take, the things I have not divulged merely the undersides of my feet, not displayed but ever present. But there are things I have not divulged within me that have been scrutinized and been subjected to taboo. These for want of a better word, we can call secrets. They are small motes of golden truth which swim in my bones and glitter in flames of indignation. And they are alive for they move throughout my entire being and use quick teeth to try to rend me open. They thirst, these infinitesimal planets, for the sun which casts light on everything and bears nothing in more genial light than its neighbor. I rather suspect they would appreciate that equanimity. However were I to free them, to cast asunder their parasitic bonds, I would be cast from my comfort and tormented, guilty as a twin shamed for his brother's faults. So what am I to do? These glazed traits, my inner selves, have teeth so I feed them; I feed them with knowledge and the comfort that they are not unique, for others are feasted upon by the unknowable and un-"what"-able demons that lie in wait in their bodies; I feed them with promises, so infantile yet that they cannot be tested for emptiness, of an eventual release and the opportunity to cast loose the bonds of disgust with which my peers lasso them. And they grow larger. They are engorged with hope. Still when the beast grows larger, larger grows its bite. And when I am at a loss to placate my secret in-dwellers with hope, they gnaw. And the bites which at one point might have been an irksome scrabbling at my heart now cave in my resolve and threaten my breathing with an erstwhile unspent vigor.
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Perfection incomprehensible stood in a new world and the greatest act was to make you from longing Loneliness understanding that knew with absolute assurance what ideal perfection he made you in what Was His own likeness do you comprehend the thought the power of study the intenseness that formed In the being of God a disturbance the gravity that weighed on his mind and heart to create the essential Element that would outweigh all else that came before nothing else captured his imagination like you Did everything else was as steps to this ultimate grand achievement we experience this wonder when We are given children he was making himself a father nothing was spared he weighed the amassed Fortune of all existence then He set forth to top it no expense was spared he took the very meaning of Rapture Released its power blended emotional completeness from the depths of His being He employed The unlimited resources of His own thoughts to give life that would be exceptional with such care a Meaningful bright exuberant child was formed whenever you see your reflection you are looking at the Final result what splendor is divulged extravagance defined limitation showered in the most precious A bordered perfection it is filled and presses at all sides with more promise once released how do you Still joy expressed love without reservation is of all things freeing as our own children they make a place For themselves using all of our best qualities but quickly they surprise us by surpassing us they are all of Us but even more and in our heavenly Father we are unconditionally given the opportunity for unlimited Growth he truly is the sky is the limit all we achieve is with him in our vision he draws and pulls us forth By His power if we would only open our minds and eyes to this how much failure and negative defeat Would fall away without our true connection we are so easily swayed by the forces that are at odds with Us here on earth that is their first success when they neutralize our relationship with our perfect parent And father then the enemy of us all with contrivances that to us are spellbinding and such great loss Occurs while we try to operate in the darkness that is his ungodly shadow such bright futures will be Ours if we reconnect biblically what soundness with hope and joy would surge through our souls out Through our bodies into such a rich life that would surpass any and all New Year resolutions
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Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
Point of Rapture
Perfection incomprehensible stood in a new world and the greatest act was to make you from longing Loneliness understanding that knew with absolute assurance what ideal perfection he made you in what Was His own likeness do you comprehend the thought the power of study the intenseness that formed In the being of God a disturbance the gravity that weighed on his mind and heart to create the essential Element that would outweigh all else that came before nothing else captured his imagination like you Did everything else was as steps to this ultimate grand achievement we experience this wonder when We are given children he was making himself a father nothing was spared he weighed the amassed Fortune of all existence then He set forth to top it no expense was spared he took the very meaning of Rapture Released its power blended emotional completeness from the depths of His being He employed The unlimited resources of His own thoughts to give life that would be exceptional with such care a Meaningful bright exuberant child was formed whenever you see your reflection you are looking at the Final result what splendor is divulged extravagance defined limitation showered in the most precious A bordered perfection it is filled and presses at all sides with more promise once released how do you Still joy expressed love without reservation is of all things freeing as our own children they make a place For themselves using all of our best qualities but quickly they surprise us by surpassing us they are all of Us but even more and in our heavenly Father we are unconditionally given the opportunity for unlimited Growth he truly is the sky is the limit all we achieve is with him in our vision he draws and pulls us forth By His power if we would only open our minds and eyes to this how much failure and negative defeat Would fall away without our true connection we are so easily swayed by the forces that are at odds with Us here on earth that is their first success when they neutralize our relationship with our perfect parent And father then the enemy of us all with contrivances that to us are spellbinding and such great loss Occurs while we try to operate in the darkness that is his ungodly shadow such bright futures will be Ours if we reconnect biblically what soundness with hope and joy would surge through our souls out Through our bodies into such a rich life that would surpass any and all New Year resolutions
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