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"eeriest" poems
The all seeing iris imperial city The swiftest of stylus this side of the ‘sippi The trippiest spittin’ Promethean hippy Conspiracy theorist of eeriest verse The despotic hypnotic black flag bearin’ Hearst Still immersing myself in a poverty trap As I grapple with lack of fact check cashing crap Cryogenically frozen emotion vibes flowin’ From out my funk bunker boombox Overthrowin’ Your global dominion opinion with ease Shootin’ breezes with Tirailleurs Senegalese I’m the kid wicked picket sign paintin’ Tom Sawyer The ill eagle Taino privilege enjoyer Still swoopin’ in mean on each **** I make clean Pick the bones dry of serpentine oil green dreams Then I bury what’s left of your money machines With the pharaohs of old’s latest pyramid schemes
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC
Horus the Youth
Tantalus tartarus tortures through time tremendous Amber ambition aback at arousal Menacing mandibles munch my member Eating eruptions eeriest *********** Docile delusional damp dame do digest
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 5:37 AM UTC
****
At first We started as Strangers Then Acquaintances Friends? Best Friends? Finally ended up as Lovers That is the stage we went. Oh Apparently that was not the end Somehow we fought And how we started, I am sure we both lost it I have to look back Or look up to remember it. But the eeriest thing was When we parted We didn't get pass through Best Friend, Friend, Acquaintance, We went straight as Strangers, again.
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Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Strangers, Again.
The story has no memory it just starts here the eeriest of feelings caress this peculiar vision quick head turn to get the hair out of my face eyes glance up i see her over there across the street our eyes meet the world begins to disappear radiant eyes gaze into my soul as mine reflect the exact energy back at her Not a look of lust or flirtation a divine look, of some unspeakable spiritual communication   which goes back thousands of years Past lives whirl as the universe warps back to the big bang or conception endless vast time in preparation for this moment here A story that takes place in a millisecond yet the most profound i’ve told of an event in the future that hasn’t happened yet already has in some distant land
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Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
In Some Distant Land
Nana's house is on the market, Perfect location beside the woods, And a few hundred feet from the water. I can hear the patter of feet, The closing of doors, The squealing of feral animals Nana fed with peanuts, The condo bird houses And broken blue eggs. The cries and sirens and confusion. When Nana died, She was sealed in the wall of a mausoleum, But continues to escape In the eeriest of ways.
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
Haunted House
Every time I unwrap a chocolate I think of Shil Grandpa. The thin and tall man forever in a long coat Towered over the sandstone roads of the sleepiest town Where only steam hoots broke the silence And a lone tree on the ground of Ghost Bungalow Still spewed smoke of the thunder that burned it! His house was at the eeriest corner of the town Too large for just one man to inhabit it The hush on its tree lined walkway was deafening And the garden uncared just grew like wild! He would stop the moment he sighted a child Dip his hand in the sweet mystery of his coat pocket And by magic wand would appear a chocolate! Sweet tooth child don’t ask for one more, he would say There are more to give, all the children coming my way. In the steams whistle his words would fly like a song In the afternoon’s shadow an old man gone wild Sweetening his void with the joy of a child One more still many more before he was free His day was done and pocket empty! Whenever I unwrap a chocolate Grandpa Shil comes back to say *Stop before you put it in mouth There’s a child coming your way.*
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Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
Chocolate
We will be alright, she says Won't we? We will be With a deep blue sigh I said, knowing But not knowing if We will be Ever the same But I hope it shows in my eyes That I haven't slept Thoughts berating my eeriest senses Making me numb Leaving me number I know it's crazy that I'm empty And you are still here But I did dream of having you Why can't I dream of losing you? Our conversations are getting shorter Why am I not surprised The yearning; lingering no longer Why does it always have to end Like this. It started with the longing For your attention And then you refute And I try again and I get it Then comes the indifference Shades of loving-care, laced with awws; cute Followed almost inevitably By nonchalantness Calls and texts unreturned You think I'm cheating Quarrels; often unwarranted Then I start making you feel you nag too much But you do I'm sorry I say; the sighs within the apologies; I'm sorry, Over and again Now we are at a ****** of sorts And it's not the kind that's found in clouds of nines I can't keep going like this I can't deal with this anymore Vic Do you want us to end this? Do you think we could be better? Questions; more questions Answers you already have Then the accusations of deception Of lies and deception; emotional blackmailing This is a recurring phase But it breaks me everytime Letting go; letting it go, you go I mean, I already let go before I met you But I've tried, everytime, I try And everytime I fail And in picking myself up to try again I make you fall for me, then I fail again I'm broken in shards, and it's my pieces that hurt you And me And I would be devastated, but I'm already damaged I would be hurt, scarred for life But I don't have the heart I don't have a heart.
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Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Memo to my next Ex
We will be alright, she says Won't we? We will be With a deep blue sigh I said, knowing But not knowing if We will be Ever the same But I hope it shows in my eyes That I haven't slept Thoughts berating my eeriest senses Making me numb Leaving me number I know it's crazy that I'm empty And you are still here But I did dream of having you Why can't I dream of losing you? Our conversations are getting shorter Why am I not surprised The yearning; lingering no longer Why does it always have to end Like this. It started with the longing For your attention And then you refute And I try again and I get it Then comes the indifference Shades of loving-care, laced with awws; cute Followed almost inevitably By nonchalantness Calls and texts unreturned You think I'm cheating Quarrels; often unwarranted Then I start making you feel you nag too much But you do I'm sorry I say; the sighs within the apologies; I'm sorry, Over and again Now we are at a ****** of sorts And it's not the kind that's found in clouds of nines I can't keep going like this I can't deal with this anymore Vic Do you want us to end this? Do you think we could be better? Questions; more questions Answers you already have Then the accusations of deception Of lies and deception; emotional blackmailing This is a recurring phase But it breaks me everytime Letting go; letting it go, you go I mean, I already let go before I met you But I've tried, everytime, I try And everytime I fail And in picking myself up to try again I make you fall for me, then I fail again I'm broken in shards, and it's my pieces that hurt you And me And I would be devastated, but I'm already damaged I would be hurt, scarred for life But I don't have the heart I don't have a heart.
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61
One of the eeriest things in my life right now is that she died almost three years ago but her Facebook account is still running. I get little notifications on her birthday and those weird "you haven't talked to this person in a while! Reconnect!" blurbs every so often, still. I could send her endless messages but no one would get them. She's just gone and somewhere there's a tiny part of a server with all her messages, photos, likes and dislikes on it, and no one will ever check it again. She left a tiny cybernetic scar on the skin of the internet, and what happens to all that stored data is as uncertain and as unknowable as where she is now, if either still exist at all. And she's not the only one - there are so many little things left unattended in the absence of the dead, minuscule holes torn in the fabrics of our lives because no one will ever fill them completely again. No one will ever laugh like they did or run their hands through their hair in the exact same way. And if they do, there is more missing - the same smile, but different eyes. The same name, but a different feeling. Nothing will ever be the same again. Each moment the whole universe is made and unmade again, infinite combinations of personality and circumstance, and you never think about what you're really going to miss until it's gone, and then it's all you can think about. Somewhere in the vastness of this empty planet, a light on a server is blinking, the graveyard of abandoned Facebook pages: some intern's hand is reaching to pull the plug.
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
Death and Facebook
One of the eeriest things in my life right now is that she died almost three years ago but her Facebook account is still running. I get little notifications on her birthday and those weird "you haven't talked to this person in a while! Reconnect!" blurbs every so often, still. I could send her endless messages but no one would get them. She's just gone and somewhere there's a tiny part of a server with all her messages, photos, likes and dislikes on it, and no one will ever check it again. She left a tiny cybernetic scar on the skin of the internet, and what happens to all that stored data is as uncertain and as unknowable as where she is now, if either still exist at all. And she's not the only one - there are so many little things left unattended in the absence of the dead, minuscule holes torn in the fabrics of our lives because no one will ever fill them completely again. No one will ever laugh like they did or run their hands through their hair in the exact same way. And if they do, there is more missing - the same smile, but different eyes. The same name, but a different feeling. Nothing will ever be the same again. Each moment the whole universe is made and unmade again, infinite combinations of personality and circumstance, and you never think about what you're really going to miss until it's gone, and then it's all you can think about. Somewhere in the vastness of this empty planet, a light on a server is blinking, the graveyard of abandoned Facebook pages: some intern's hand is reaching to pull the plug.
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34
The thing I hate most is when I have to switch off the light paving way for ghosts to rule my night! *When moonbeam peeped through window night revealed her in the most beauteous glory I would not fall asleep in that half-lit glow till ma told me the eeriest ghost story! She would tell me about imps and ghouls the ones that roam to find if a child is sleepless of spirits no more bound by earthly rules moving in the hollows in faceless face! There were ghosts good and crooks souls that died in unfulfilled lust their shadows crept in the dark nooks their sighs echoed with the wind's gust! I could feel their breath catch their whiff the lurking bones lying for me in wait that would not spare me even in my sleep till they turned me their netherworld's mate!* To this day I feel a deadly gloom pause before I put out the light what if finding me alone in a room visit me the fears of the night!
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Ghost Story