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"ean" poems
In your story you are the protagonist. While I am a dutiful caretaker, I want you to let me sink, Lower & deeper into your eyes, Loving we have come to each other. A a true lover and admirer I am, Listen to my heartbeat someday, When I will not miss your glam, Amazing is this love they'll say, Yours I will forever be the dam, Shall I ever miss you madam? Lean down I will to kiss you, On your forehead, cheeks & lips, Very softly I will be kissing you, Entering you it will be a bliss. You love and desire me so much, Of your craze I am so crazy, Unnatural your faith is. My dream is coming true in you, You I will always be so thankful. Pushing my efforts I always am, Oath of love is unbreakable here, On this lovely and smooth tram, Jinx they may but none we fear, Always be happy with you I am.
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Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Read Between The Lines
Wind driving cloud-cows across a range of blue Holds gulls by wing tips motionless Trains a tree to worship Bows beach grass to its will all while rattling windows--shaken fist at me Then still The waves forever tell their names ocean o-shshc-ean ocean BashO--CE-A-N ocean ocean OC-E-A-N ocean ocean oceanshshsh-shean
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Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
The Waves and Wind Forever
Close your eyes, my dear, We shall lay upon clouds; Close your eyes, my dear, We shall hear the sounds; Close your eyes, my dear, We'll fall into evergreen; Close your eyes, my dear, Our thoughts will ean; Close your eyes, my dear, Let us venture as one; Close your eyes, my dear, Us will never be gone; Close your eyes, my dear, Let your dreams flow; Close your eyes, my dear, Wherever you want, we shall go; Close your eyes, my dear, Let us feel this bliss; Close your eyes, my dear, Feel there is nothing amiss. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Open your eyes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . See the treachery of Paradise. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Open. Your. Eyes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . See how the dream dies, as time flies. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Close your eyes, my dear, As I cower in my fear; Closing my eyes, dear, Makes me remember that you'll never be here.
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
To The Love That'll Never Happen
This is me Ean Of Nasarith Baron of Sydmonton This is me Ean Of Nasarith Baron of Simpleton This is me Ean Of Nasarith Battle at Sydmonton This is me Ean Of Nasarith Baron of Sydmonton
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Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 4:33 AM UTC
Himno Nacional Mexicano
it is okay not to have plans it's okay you have spent m any nights lone before toni ght do not cry not now he didn't notice a change but it is there is is a glowing em ber and when you cut off th tips of your hair you cut off a little tiny bit of desperation i mean it you look better i m ean it the change is there and it is okay to acknowledge it a lone it your bedroom it is oka y to steal a beer from the lock ed pantry and drink it alone a nd toast yourself it is okay to h ug yourself and laugh to yours elf you're still ADMI R A B L E
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
ADMI R A B L E
eighty-five pounds ago, mother told me the secret to losing it just like she did—the weight, that is she let me know at eight that a low number on the scale does equate beauty, that less is more it’s simple, really, she’d say to me, i felt disgusting, it got out of hand, trust me i’d have snipped my skin had i no other option i’d have shed my flesh had i not had ten fingers so i frequented that room down the hall for some rest felt as cascades filled my larynx with emptiness i'd get high afterwards having thrown every throe up the smaller the waist/waste, the more waste i’d throw up and i loved it... so i'd insist and press my gag-reflex harder just to test it then savor (the way) the reverse acid-flavored after-taste(d)   i frequented that shared room down the hall everyday for my next fix to compuke the total sum of endless time plus ten long fingers and i loved it... see, there’s nothing quite as indicative of progress as is seeing your handmade artwork (sink) in marble canvasses there’s just one problem i still feel disgusted today but with just one difference the s(kin) i wish to shed is on you and you’re my extension i’d hate to skin my flesh but what options have you left over? i(’ m)ean, the key to losing leftover's at your fingertips eighty-five pounds later, i told mother how right she was i do love the emptiness, particularly when i'm in ninety-degree summers and i feel cooler (lean)ing at ninety-degrees trying hard to find the right angle for kissing the hard marble my tongue hangs out for with hunger there’s just one difference i feel disgusting, i’m just like ___ but there’s just one problem i’m addicted to hitting my speed bag, it has me boxed in it was in my stomach at first but then it started spreading like vicious late-stage cancer with its victims, i feel livid and now my stomach’s sinking and i can feel it turning upside-down but it’s not the acid or toxicity or the stress ulcers or my self-disappointment with me   that today make me puke my problem, to speak the whole truth is that it’s not me mother, it’s ___ - end -
0
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 6:37 AM UTC
rest-room: blood, sw(eat) & tears
eighty-five pounds ago, mother told me the secret to losing it just like she did—the weight, that is she let me know at eight that a low number on the scale does equate beauty, that less is more it’s simple, really, she’d say to me, i felt disgusting, it got out of hand, trust me i’d have snipped my skin had i no other option i’d have shed my flesh had i not had ten fingers so i frequented that room down the hall for some rest felt as cascades filled my larynx with emptiness i'd get high afterwards having thrown every throe up the smaller the waist/waste, the more waste i’d throw up and i loved it... so i'd insist and press my gag-reflex harder just to test it then savor (the way) the reverse acid-flavored after-taste(d)   i frequented that shared room down the hall everyday for my next fix to compuke the total sum of endless time plus ten long fingers and i loved it... see, there’s nothing quite as indicative of progress as is seeing your handmade artwork (sink) in marble canvasses there’s just one problem i still feel disgusted today but with just one difference the s(kin) i wish to shed is on you and you’re my extension i’d hate to skin my flesh but what options have you left over? i(’ m)ean, the key to losing leftover's at your fingertips eighty-five pounds later, i told mother how right she was i do love the emptiness, particularly when i'm in ninety-degree summers and i feel cooler (lean)ing at ninety-degrees trying hard to find the right angle for kissing the hard marble my tongue hangs out for with hunger there’s just one difference i feel disgusting, i’m just like ___ but there’s just one problem i’m addicted to hitting my speed bag, it has me boxed in it was in my stomach at first but then it started spreading like vicious late-stage cancer with its victims, i feel livid and now my stomach’s sinking and i can feel it turning upside-down but it’s not the acid or toxicity or the stress ulcers or my self-disappointment with me   that today make me puke my problem, to speak the whole truth is that it’s not me mother, it’s ___ - end -
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47
I made a neucanse out of my luxuries the wine worries me and the high only takes me so far want the words an the numbers and the faces to ean something? can't you accept nighilis? spit out another phrase to make sense of it, fine I type in order to avoid bedrest, I haven't begun makes my own arrangements for that yet, it doesn't even make sense, really as the battery begins to die, my wine runs dry and,seriously, out of things to say as the orbit on tv goes tp mir o,,ideate sp;ar system, impressive to the 80's physicist using their finger s and thumbs to re enact the satellites behaviors I pity their inaccuracy If only the string theory folk could get their act together
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May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Old' hank style (for nothing)