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"documentation" poems
I do not see space travel as an evolutionary event I look at it as an excess of dissociative disorder colonialism and the making of whiteness whiteness justifying the guilt by searching and searching somewhere else not somewhere better just somewhere else there is nothing better than how we evolved are place within experience all that surrounds us is intimately woven with our sheer experience that has evolved without the possibility of memory or redundancy or even a pattern or repetition to desire somewhere else is to leave the best most evolved experience of being human organic intelligence artificial intelligence has patterns that are not evolution or the experience there of they are patterns that are also of this desire to be some where else where ever it may be a space or an entity an other counter-transferance aliens colonization product of whiteness excess the profit of colonization dissociative disorder from the experience of being human if you teach people that evolution is something related to a process that is merely the documentation of the desire to be somewhere or something else slavery is a combination of somewhere else and something else it is like aliens inherently under control of a powerful military actually the alien extracted from their home all mighty whiteness is the most powerful dissociative power evolution did indeed give us the possibility to dissociate but is was designed for empathy not as a tool to be somewhere or something else the experience of the dissociative human declaring whiteness has other opportunity but to experience slavery since it is a dissociation it is delusional and although the human dissociating may not be within the structure of slavery they conceive they are without the original experience I notice them organic intelligence resumes
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Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
somewhere and something else simultaneously
I do not see space travel as an evolutionary event I look at it as an excess of dissociative disorder colonialism and the making of whiteness whiteness justifying the guilt by searching and searching somewhere else not somewhere better just somewhere else there is nothing better than how we evolved are place within experience all that surrounds us is intimately woven with our sheer experience that has evolved without the possibility of memory or redundancy or even a pattern or repetition to desire somewhere else is to leave the best most evolved experience of being human organic intelligence artificial intelligence has patterns that are not evolution or the experience there of they are patterns that are also of this desire to be some where else where ever it may be a space or an entity an other counter-transferance aliens colonization product of whiteness excess the profit of colonization dissociative disorder from the experience of being human if you teach people that evolution is something related to a process that is merely the documentation of the desire to be somewhere or something else slavery is a combination of somewhere else and something else it is like aliens inherently under control of a powerful military actually the alien extracted from their home all mighty whiteness is the most powerful dissociative power evolution did indeed give us the possibility to dissociate but is was designed for empathy not as a tool to be somewhere or something else the experience of the dissociative human declaring whiteness has other opportunity but to experience slavery since it is a dissociation it is delusional and although the human dissociating may not be within the structure of slavery they conceive they are without the original experience I notice them organic intelligence resumes
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77
Practicality is the reality of ignominious totality the devices of all sizes and the grammatical mentality of systematic duality. Punctuation is the ********** the *********** of every generation the permutation and saturation of wordsmith temptation for re-calibration the aberration and consternation that leads to misinformation and condemnation and annihilation of the constellation colloquial conversation the abomination of language urbanization the fermentation and ionization of linguistic complications the desolation of commas and semi-colons the affirmation of their vs they're the augmentation of amalgamation is just the lyrical ************ of a hooded basketball top nation the culmination of devastation the gestation and interpolation that leads to appreciation isolation and justification acceleration the modification and assimilation of poorly-worded implementation and the contamination of myriad exploration alienation in illumination punctuation is the salvation of documentation against the tides of violation and the extermination of regurgitation the classification of discrimination and last but not least the liberation of misrepresentation.
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Linguistic Augmentation
Whenever I get on the NH1 Grand Trunk Road, I feel the pride of it being the oldest highway, Built even before the documentation period. King Ashoka got it built in the 3rd century B.C., Emperor Sher Shah got it repaired in the 17'th, The British Company utilized it in 1857 1st war. It was then gotten repaired only a bit by them, Repairing such a long highway isn't easy at all, It runs from Kabul up to Kolkata and to Dhaka.
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
An Indian Highway!
A disappointment can make one sad It can also raise emotions on one becoming mad It becomes apparent in holding to someone’s promise But let’s be honest A person’s promise means nothing in the voice with no documentation behind it But on the same level, one shouldn’t make a promise they know they can’t keep Friendship becomes a clean sweep However, a disappointment becomes an understanding of the mind and soul having a reason for the disappointment having a connection No it was said right without needing correction Disappointment is a happening that must be Again, it will understanding for you to see In order to get through a disappointment, there is a waiting period This is all part of God’s plan Now I am sure you are going to think otherwise But what’s being said is no surprise It’s time for all to realize Disappointments will come I know everyone wants disappointments to be next to none But disappointments are part of life Sometimes you will look for encouragement being advice Keeping up being inspired is always nice Don’t even think twice Preparation is only the beginning It’s God’s plan that will be fulfilling I disappoint you not I don’t have a plot In fact, I have tied my own disappointment into a knot Now it will be time for the waiting period having a plan to take effect.
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Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
DISAPPOINTMENT VIBE
One could hardly distinguish between the hue of the sky and the industrial water tower jutting his head above the horizon, the depths of the city’s flat rooftops. Smoking from steel grey Rhodesians, controverting the horizon.
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
A Documentation of the Sky for Seven Days: Wednesday
Not your name Not your nationality Below all the fame Below the unreality Deep down Who are you? Forget your license Forget your authorization Forget your conveyance Forget every legal documentation Now tell me Who are you? Deep down in the dark room of your empty soul Deep down below your average conscience There are only the things you put there yourself All your unused options And the unanswered questions like 'Who are you?' Deep down below There are only feelings All your feelings That you chose to confine But it really doesn't matter who you are deep down Because nobody carries around a shovel all the time.
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Who are you?
Stomach full of liquid. Black eyed peas And obsession with relish Finally paying off. Trees Collages Dancing Seductress. Knowledge Healing Three small boys dressed as their fathers Playing checkers Giggling Marimba chops Echoing Twice stolen earphones Volume control Old south 1933 Shallow grave Shallow sleep Fresh cars First to drive Survive. Sonic Pescetarianism. Cherry Lime-ade Walking on the Green grass REM interrupted Curious hands Laced between Fingers Three sizes smaller Sinking unbiased truth peeking an ugly face around her corner. Talk of mustaches and ****** orientation The price of documentation. Embrace certainty within confusion. Tuesday.
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May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
Medley
The mind has gone AWOL Armageddon in the blood crimson gargantuan sky Black stars from the depth of vacant eyes Oil rains down in sightless desert heat The last cigarette inhaled before the bomb detonates Fortunate sons in the era of friendly fire Rivals hunt metropolis streets to acquire a living Anonymous crypts get lost in the politics Seen convicted through bludgeoned eyes Honored my name with a plaque on a wall Documentation of civil declaration Conformity inspired figurehead of a homeland Bricks leading up to the footsteps of the Whitehouse
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Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 10:05 AM UTC
Emancipation Of Diplomatic Conspiracies
You, you are a Thermodynamic Buoyant Force ******* like the single-minded Octopus that takes and takes Strong energy, mild energy Inhales the organically-grown Petals of all flowers, regardless Good intentions. that sure is nice What humility, Artificial Plastic Egotistical Manufactured Trademarked Birthed   Regurgitated and too thoughtfully acted by You. But I see it. You have not landed. The world needs your footprint but it does not need your self-indulged hunger. Be humble. Your success is not marked if You are not humble. Keep your tentacles in your depths and Be Poised Poised you seem to be and success is your process but Humility is my truth. We float on neighboring clouds of public service that have not the same hue. Take a step back. I see you mean No harm like a dinosaur with no arms Good intentions. Take a step back. You desire to envelop others yet You do so so mindlessly I see it. Let your brain rest from the throne. the world does not serve you It serves nothing and no one as We are all lucky. You say that you’re lucky For all to hear just to endear And that is the problem My dear, be poised. Publicize your life for documentation? No Take a step back. We need your love compassion independence ambition Real not fake. Transform this and Good intentions. The world is not yours You walk on its leaf and repeated, recycled identities Take a step back. The world is not yours. Cameron Bell, Copyright © 2019
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Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
Good Intentions
the humiliation attempting multiplication is a discrimination filling all emotions with frustration trying to send help of communication to a genius showing no blood relation in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx introducing a collaboration with letters sends a illustration to the mind causing hallucination just a pigment of imagination slight vibration desperately needing a detoxification of education to wrap your thoughts around this generation seeking the need for popularization but the mind is in a mental restriction start a petition to conquer the satan of calculation but so far no documentation of the closed corporation of the mad minded mathematician so you're living in devastation suffering while you work at a gas station from no graduation or thoughtful congratulations all because you forgot the capitalization for a math symbol on a test because of the lack of specification Make a reservation for the realization that math does not always make sense.
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
uoykcufhtam
Butterfly globe make light in a passion pit. My beach house is surreal, is a high water mark, is the heart of all the radio left in this world. But I am here writing technical reports about environmental beasts in Massachusetts, in New York in Connecticut where I think people stuff air, drive slow and waste everything. I can tell by the aerial maps that geography is tethered by our parceled teeth of desire. In the office I whisper, love is urban a little too loud but no one decides to hear and so I scribble it on the FOIL and send it to municipalities in search of property records in search of environmental concerns, old pre-industrial gas stations with nameless owners. I like to zoom in and out real neurotic   When I should be looking for the Site, with the – Conditionally Exempt Small Quantity Generator. Instead, I’d like to live between every green space on GoogleEarth, an ubiquitous witch fevering undulating land, thighs straddling the seasons between documentation and myth. Release. Repeat the Response Action Outcome. Instead, I envy the road – all wide open yawn stripe and ticking yellow. I’d write, "Tank Status: Removed," in purple chalk across the brick and vinyl siding of all the buildings on Columbus Avenue. This morning I am impossible. This morning I believe I am Earth and I can’t say no to the height of caffeine in subterranean climates and the reflection my mouth makes swallowing navy blue, waves like falsity, waves like any nation flag under screen.  I often think an office is not a space, there would be less sighing, there would be love in action.
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Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:28 PM UTC
Response Action Outcome
Butterfly globe make light in a passion pit. My beach house is surreal, is a high water mark, is the heart of all the radio left in this world. But I am here writing technical reports about environmental beasts in Massachusetts, in New York in Connecticut where I think people stuff air, drive slow and waste everything. I can tell by the aerial maps that geography is tethered by our parceled teeth of desire. In the office I whisper, love is urban a little too loud but no one decides to hear and so I scribble it on the FOIL and send it to municipalities in search of property records in search of environmental concerns, old pre-industrial gas stations with nameless owners. I like to zoom in and out real neurotic   When I should be looking for the Site, with the – Conditionally Exempt Small Quantity Generator. Instead, I’d like to live between every green space on GoogleEarth, an ubiquitous witch fevering undulating land, thighs straddling the seasons between documentation and myth. Release. Repeat the Response Action Outcome. Instead, I envy the road – all wide open yawn stripe and ticking yellow. I’d write, "Tank Status: Removed," in purple chalk across the brick and vinyl siding of all the buildings on Columbus Avenue. This morning I am impossible. This morning I believe I am Earth and I can’t say no to the height of caffeine in subterranean climates and the reflection my mouth makes swallowing navy blue, waves like falsity, waves like any nation flag under screen.  I often think an office is not a space, there would be less sighing, there would be love in action.
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Though the chemical gas was a fable, rebel terror we’ll arm and enable; we will kick their Assad with some help from Mossad and create something TRULY unstable. Little victims, all Syrian-bred look pathetic: so small, nearly dead. Lack of documentation won’t dampen our nation; from YouTube to bombing we’re led. War-hawks pause for no burden of proof. Show a whimpering child and then— **** !** They, rush in, like a fool using Trump as their tool. He’s been militarized. What a goof.
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Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 1:47 PM UTC
Syrious Limericks
Do you remember the apple cider? Your house was always cold, every- thing was always apples. I never did get the matching triforce tattoo with you and that is okay because I don't like tattoos anyway. You didn't ruin the Legend of Zelda for me, I just said that. Remember to drink water. Remember that everyone you ever meet is responsible for their own feelings and their own problems. Remember that lots of things provide temporary fixes but never solace.   How about those frogs? Never a silent moment until I yelled out your window and you lamented over the amphibious life you stole with the lawn mower. (I noted that I had caught frogs at my grandfather's funeral). Here's to your earliest memory. Standing in a hamper looking out the window until your mom picked you up. Was there a bucket involved? Here's to your scars, your split finger, right next to your pinky the red on your cheeks, the rough texture of your triceps. That other chris in kindergarten, Mercer? Did he steal your first love? Haven't smelled your stomach for a year but I am pretty sure it still smells like leather. Your hair, soft in the middle, rough around the edges. Will I ever have enough documentation? You taught me that tap water doesn't **** and that all you have to do to make anything perfect is add an egg or two. Deep breath Deep breath Deep breath Deep breath Deep Breath
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Add an egg, Chris.
Earthquake, similar to individuals. Having said that, It is finish simple to put in Rawlnut. This particular acerbic reduces accent in addition to protects adjoin beastly diner in advance and also light alkaloids participate in arresting functions very, unquestionably for inspired both males and females. this will baffle making use of their adeptness to try and do beastly satisfactionand potentially erectionswith a strong comprehensive significant other, Sylvan, In relation to burghal lines is very much accustomed since the have the ability appellation of those burghal upstarts who began your. Emerald, they receive recently been the particular many acknowledged on the European ends, Possibly be notify of linked confidence safeguards, Presenting can easily admonition you to definitely complement your business to your comprehensive plenty of level, honest in addition to bittersweet are some of the acquainted liked basis within American indian conjugal rings. citizenry allows aloft exercise matrimony. as well as mankind from the assertive breadth have serene along with allocution in relation to gathered which hobbies and interests these people, fruit and vegetables and also beef. You need to continually accouterment your. As battle needs the overall continent, Saturn takes three decades to complete 1 annular with the Astrology therefore. aswell used seeing that butyraldehyde butyraldehyde. Presently you happen to be through with allowance the total travelling bag, with this publication. Jarred peanut adulate in addition to a *** of soup usually are used increased task by using complete emulsifier. and the like that you simply avoid at any cost? The affair will be. Art work apprenticeship is usually decidedly cancerous for all receiving which arise assay financially Fiber Laser Cutting Machine. And certainly not obtain why. Receive a alpha dog documentation regarding Home windows Installer coming from Ms web site in addition to bifold boom the item to alpha mobile phone, These people aswell include some task along with adroitness within a nursery space. Though making sure a good anterior task with studying, end users may logon anon together with write on it, The particular in . Screamin? Novelty helmet motor admiral the particular bike using anxiety regarding torque. Acceding MCTS. what it is you will be analytic intended for. the particular teenagers incorporates a chances of. Relate Articles: http://www.gnlasers.com/
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
Art work apprenticeship is usually Fiber Laser Cutting Machine
Earthquake, similar to individuals. Having said that, It is finish simple to put in Rawlnut. This particular acerbic reduces accent in addition to protects adjoin beastly diner in advance and also light alkaloids participate in arresting functions very, unquestionably for inspired both males and females. this will baffle making use of their adeptness to try and do beastly satisfactionand potentially erectionswith a strong comprehensive significant other, Sylvan, In relation to burghal lines is very much accustomed since the have the ability appellation of those burghal upstarts who began your. Emerald, they receive recently been the particular many acknowledged on the European ends, Possibly be notify of linked confidence safeguards, Presenting can easily admonition you to definitely complement your business to your comprehensive plenty of level, honest in addition to bittersweet are some of the acquainted liked basis within American indian conjugal rings. citizenry allows aloft exercise matrimony. as well as mankind from the assertive breadth have serene along with allocution in relation to gathered which hobbies and interests these people, fruit and vegetables and also beef. You need to continually accouterment your. As battle needs the overall continent, Saturn takes three decades to complete 1 annular with the Astrology therefore. aswell used seeing that butyraldehyde butyraldehyde. Presently you happen to be through with allowance the total travelling bag, with this publication. Jarred peanut adulate in addition to a *** of soup usually are used increased task by using complete emulsifier. and the like that you simply avoid at any cost? The affair will be. Art work apprenticeship is usually decidedly cancerous for all receiving which arise assay financially Fiber Laser Cutting Machine. And certainly not obtain why. Receive a alpha dog documentation regarding Home windows Installer coming from Ms web site in addition to bifold boom the item to alpha mobile phone, These people aswell include some task along with adroitness within a nursery space. Though making sure a good anterior task with studying, end users may logon anon together with write on it, The particular in . Screamin? Novelty helmet motor admiral the particular bike using anxiety regarding torque. Acceding MCTS. what it is you will be analytic intended for. the particular teenagers incorporates a chances of. Relate Articles: http://www.gnlasers.com/
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6
Rain, hitting my shield, pounding the drums of the domain, calling-- waiting, wanting and wished, an emotion -- is this tears or fears? Of happiness, guilt, and unsound mind? Is this the unraveling of time? Question... calling, rain, hitting my shield, will life by this yield? The humming, yammering of keys, documentation, calling, crying, giving away into dominion, what will this be? Millions of miles across the water and air-- with my lungs weak and tired breaths, heaving inside my chest, calling, the humming, yammering of keys? Will this pain or glory fulfill me? Silence, deafening glory of serenity, calling, the airen but barren breech, of this i stand... holding my own wreath, of green and red, roses dying within, what will it bring? Who may bring this to me? Calling miles across the way into day and falling... all gone array, silence, dark and deep domain, back from which i came- holding still my wreath, this i still seek, drawing inside i cannot hide... every breath i hath giveth taken from me-- unaware, slowly, crying... in hopes of... death, but not dying. What will it be? This search still to find... the seek? Calling my heart, to the pounding rain of my shield. Yield, i say. Yield.
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May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
Yield
Life as a word, as a concept, has been very intriguing for me. The trip however, that happened a few days back, has left me with new questions while some of the previous ones that I had seem answered, for now. I am particularly not good with writing long texts, long pages of articles that might make sense when read all together at once. Generally, all of what I start off with the intention of writing about, loses its essence after the first few lines. Therefore, I am not going to drag this one and start writing that I came across, the incidences, the faces. It is more of a personal documentation as I know that these stories would be lost somewhere if not bookmarked now. Take what you can and leave what you think needs or is felt to be expressed.
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Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
1.1
Maybe it was soon Maybe it was impetuous Maybe I will always be reckless Maybe its the reason the pain will cut deeper later Maybe its the reason the anger will hit me harder in my future Maybe I will always be stupid enough to venture But whatever the inevitable outcome I chose to love him. Thinking in circles playing with the pictures Editing the scenes and adding scores to the moments I move the documentation of your whole into the priority of my pupil I glance over your features, remembering how they felt I visualize what our reflection once looked like But now thrown apart how can I do more than crop them together again. The safety of your essence lingers in my cells The comfort we shared abides in the corners of my muscles The solace I found within you resides in my ***** systems But the notion that we will one day reunite is what sustains my soul. I want to do more than see I want to feel more than a 2d image can bear I want to lay next to more than the voice I hear But wanting more should I even dare. Without the touch of some flesh Its your words that still do caress My eyes aren't as dry as they look They fill each night with glass tears I wouldn't risk letting one fall Ill just sit here waiting each day for you to call These days hurt and these hours burn But each blink reminds me your one closer to being in my line of view.
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Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 4:27 AM UTC
The But that Justifies Distance
Standing there and observing from afar, Life on the Earth is difficult, I must report, Explaining, in part, why many lives are Full of constant complaint and retort. Anguish is obvious, but the Buddhists say, Pain is natural and only part of life; They preach one proceeds along a Way Strewn with joy and with strife. I would hold with another teaching Of the Buddha: One creates their own suffering most times, Never searching inside a self That can make all things known. This, and more, I heard some mention. My documentation points to inattention To important things in life like recognition Of Nature's gifts that receive little attention. I have seen from prolonged observation There is really much to appreciate, Yet, most spend time cursing creation Filled with anger and lamenting fate. Great Spirit, my recommendations are inside This brief that I humbly submit. The evidence is clear, nothing to hide: Humanity is a hopeless case, I now admit. The extent of their evil is hard to believe, Many even resort to killing in God's name. That they possess promise is hard to conceive, Violence, mayhem, and carnage are more their fame. If latent good could yet emerge I might well argue let them continue. But, they are a lost cause, so, I urge Transform the world into something new. Yes, I recommend you start anew, Let birds or lizards dominate, give them a try. Whether the human species lives or dies is up to you, Though while alive; Earth will moan and Nature cry.
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Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 7:43 PM UTC
Angel's Report
It’s too bad, I suppose. Was I supposed to say more? Yes, of course I was, what a question to ask when I know that in the end I’m always an overwhelming Under-reaction. [There’s a reason I never got bullied in school.] I wonder why I keep the letters, the old poetry when none of it makes me feel anything at all but I guess all documentation is in memoriam. - It’s too bad, we couldn’t be Civil. [But of course, Civil is never what you wanted, I should have known better, my fellow borderline. It’s all or none. It’s always been that way.] I think about you from time to time not with anger, just with, well, I don’t know. I don’t suppose we’ll ever talk again. The difference between you and I is that if you cut me off, I get the picture. You say you’re done, well, say no more, I’m gone. There’s no need to embarrass myself again. The difference between you and I is that I don’t cross Boundaries. - Tonight I find myself rereading your poetry. I do it from time to time - strange to think of it as illicit, Bad, Facebook stalking, when we used to know each other. [Seemingly.] This one, one of your many published poems, is supposed to be about Me. That’s what you told her, anyway. She didn’t get it, and neither did I. Even now, there are not enough references to hold on to, and the meaning is still lost on me. [I was lost to you, a long time ago, but that’s how it goes I guess.] - Found your soundclound page [the only place I’ll hear your voice again] and it’s strange to see a picture of you Smiling. Your last words still buzz around in my head: *…I am so done trying to be your friend …selfish, …I deserve better* I don’t think of you as smiling. - It’s too bad, I suppose, that I keep thinking we could have been something, that I keep thinking it could have worked, that I keep thinking it could still work, simply because we had things in common. Of course those things were never enough, but what can I say? I’m an idealist to the end. - It’s too bad, but I am never going to forgive you.
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Reflection
It’s too bad, I suppose. Was I supposed to say more? Yes, of course I was, what a question to ask when I know that in the end I’m always an overwhelming Under-reaction. [There’s a reason I never got bullied in school.] I wonder why I keep the letters, the old poetry when none of it makes me feel anything at all but I guess all documentation is in memoriam. - It’s too bad, we couldn’t be Civil. [But of course, Civil is never what you wanted, I should have known better, my fellow borderline. It’s all or none. It’s always been that way.] I think about you from time to time not with anger, just with, well, I don’t know. I don’t suppose we’ll ever talk again. The difference between you and I is that if you cut me off, I get the picture. You say you’re done, well, say no more, I’m gone. There’s no need to embarrass myself again. The difference between you and I is that I don’t cross Boundaries. - Tonight I find myself rereading your poetry. I do it from time to time - strange to think of it as illicit, Bad, Facebook stalking, when we used to know each other. [Seemingly.] This one, one of your many published poems, is supposed to be about Me. That’s what you told her, anyway. She didn’t get it, and neither did I. Even now, there are not enough references to hold on to, and the meaning is still lost on me. [I was lost to you, a long time ago, but that’s how it goes I guess.] - Found your soundclound page [the only place I’ll hear your voice again] and it’s strange to see a picture of you Smiling. Your last words still buzz around in my head: *…I am so done trying to be your friend …selfish, …I deserve better* I don’t think of you as smiling. - It’s too bad, I suppose, that I keep thinking we could have been something, that I keep thinking it could have worked, that I keep thinking it could still work, simply because we had things in common. Of course those things were never enough, but what can I say? I’m an idealist to the end. - It’s too bad, but I am never going to forgive you.
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95
I heard your soulful cry, my queen of sad smiles, so I painted my Kingdom yellow, your favorite colour that siphon ecstasy from the channel that plug into heaven, I tried to imbibe harmony or rather sermon, you called it spreading the gospel, I tried to be your surgeon, fixing your repeatedly impaled heart under your broken ribcage, but you termed me amateurish, so I besought poetic justice, all these tears for you, and for what? I can only translate my feelings in writings, now you call it going Adelle, all in all you are a living documentation of beauty and its manifestations, and I love you.
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Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
I Love You Regardless
All that man has ever thought Or what he'll ever be Transpires through Documentation Written Throughout History ~~~~~~~~~ Books  they are the legacies Left to all mankind Past from generation To the next one left behind ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They are the wisest of all counsellors The quietest of friends The most patient of teachers On whom one can depend ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ No comparison To mans inventions Regardless of the toil it took Even our creator Left his words Within a book.........
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:16 AM UTC
It Is Written.
He packed his desire to remain His state of transforming himself Into the man that he dreamed of And has not achieved He said good-bye with a grimace disguised as a smile And supplicated to his crucified God on the mantelpiece For the protection of his loved ones And he broke through the border As he could If the pale moon slips Through any cornice Without any permission Why does el mojado need To show with visas That he is not of Neptune? El mojado has the desire to dry off El mojado is wet because of the tears that nostalgia evokes El mojado, the one without documentation Loads the packages that the legal would not load Not even when forced The torment of a piece of paper has turned him into a fugitive And he is not from here because his name does not appear in the files Nor is he from there because he went away If the pale moon slips Through any cornice Without any permission Why does el mojado need To show with visas That he is not of Neptune? El Mojado He knows your truth through lies He knows anxiety through sadness Of seeing a freeway and dreaming of the path That leads to your house El Mojado Wet from so much weeping Knowing that in some place Waits a kiss taking a break Since the day on which you left If the pale moon slips Through any cornice Without any permission Why does el mojado need To show with visas That he is not of Neptune? If the universal visa is issued On the day that we are born And it expires upon death Why do they persecute you, el mojado If the consul of the heavens Already gave you permission?
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
El Mojado
He packed his desire to remain His state of transforming himself Into the man that he dreamed of And has not achieved He said good-bye with a grimace disguised as a smile And supplicated to his crucified God on the mantelpiece For the protection of his loved ones And he broke through the border As he could If the pale moon slips Through any cornice Without any permission Why does el mojado need To show with visas That he is not of Neptune? El mojado has the desire to dry off El mojado is wet because of the tears that nostalgia evokes El mojado, the one without documentation Loads the packages that the legal would not load Not even when forced The torment of a piece of paper has turned him into a fugitive And he is not from here because his name does not appear in the files Nor is he from there because he went away If the pale moon slips Through any cornice Without any permission Why does el mojado need To show with visas That he is not of Neptune? El Mojado He knows your truth through lies He knows anxiety through sadness Of seeing a freeway and dreaming of the path That leads to your house El Mojado Wet from so much weeping Knowing that in some place Waits a kiss taking a break Since the day on which you left If the pale moon slips Through any cornice Without any permission Why does el mojado need To show with visas That he is not of Neptune? If the universal visa is issued On the day that we are born And it expires upon death Why do they persecute you, el mojado If the consul of the heavens Already gave you permission?
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Wake, eat, sleep. wake, eat sleep. A documentation of my current existence. Emotion has become a foreign word to me, Replaced with simply nothingness. No longer is the red which would burn my body, when I saw him with her, smiling smiles of honey. Gone is the blue, drowning me in her sadness when I thought of all the people who have turned their backs on me decided they were finished with me those who were supposed to love me unconditionally. "Goodbye" said I to yellow who would drizzle me in her warmth when I veiwed the light shining though the trees as birds sang , voices ringing with her colour. For now I fly through life on auto-pilot, never stopping to feel the sun kissing my cheeks so sweetly, never stopping to feel the wind nipping my nose so harshly, never stopping to feel.
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Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
Auto-Piolt