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"eigth" poems
The seven deadly sins of man have just slaughtered a mocking bird. The sound of willow drums                      & laughter at 1 a.m. The Lion's sin of Pride                    "Hail the poet within you." The Dragon's sin of Wrath                    "Your words forge death on the page." The Snake's sin of Envy                    "The clock counts more words than time does." The Fox's sin of Greed                    ** "Crave the words as if they disgusted God."** The Grizzly's sin of Sloth                      "Immortality flocks to your pen and paper." The Goat's sin of Lust                      "Dress like a daydream or a nightmare to write with blood." The Boar's sin of Gluttony                       **"Don't be afraid to **** to suffice your poems."** Oh poets, for those of you who've figured it's also a sin to **** a mocking bird. The secret is in the eighth deadly sin of poetry,                                   **Don't.                                   Tell.                                    Poets.                                     What.                                     To.**                                     Do. .
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
The Seven Deadly, The Eigth Righteous.
The seven deadly sins of man have just slaughtered a mocking bird. The sound of willow drums                      & laughter at 1 a.m. The Lion's sin of Pride                    "Hail the poet within you." The Dragon's sin of Wrath                    "Your words forge death on the page." The Snake's sin of Envy                    "The clock counts more words than time does." The Fox's sin of Greed                    ** "Crave the words as if they disgusted God."** The Grizzly's sin of Sloth                      "Immortality flocks to your pen and paper." The Goat's sin of Lust                      "Dress like a daydream or a nightmare to write with blood." The Boar's sin of Gluttony                       **"Don't be afraid to **** to suffice your poems."** Oh poets, for those of you who've figured it's also a sin to **** a mocking bird. The secret is in the eighth deadly sin of poetry,                                   **Don't.                                   Tell.                                    Poets.                                     What.                                     To.**                                     Do. .
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Beautiful, Just like a Young male teenager experiencing The state of euphoria, Just like a Hopless romantic that finally Found her love. The meanings, So Bitter sweet Just So nice and Pleasant to read. The sky is falling down So hard, Circles made of Pure heaven, Just like a Gold girl. But also, From the eigth circle of hell From the most darkest spots of the nest The birds strangled, Wanting to be free But sadly, Freedom doesn't exist. But that's just how I Interpret things that are called Poems.
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 7:29 AM UTC
- poems
First five minutes Red flicks and burns my eyes Mute but loud with color Spirit travels down eigth ave Recollection of life during transit Rain check on the hospital bill Life uninsured Death assured Silent ambulance
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
Silent Ambulance
In fifth grade, they called me gay. In sixth, they called me *** In eigth, I tried to end my life for the first time. The second time shortly after. In ninth, I came to grips with my sexuality. I tried to end my life for the third and fourth time. My parents told me that I wasn't going to heaven. In tenth, I lost all of my friends and found my first love. I fell in love with a broken CD. The sharp edges would tear my skin like paper. That year I tried for the fifth and sixth time. Present day, I'm in love with someone but they don't know yet. My last attempt, number 7, was more than a year ago.
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
The Killing
He had fallen in love when he had first seen her, her dark black hair and green eyes had been what had attracted him. Yes he knew the danger but he had smuggled her out, taken her to his home and he had not told a soul what he had done. She was nineteen and he was fourtythree, he did not see the age difference and only saw her beauty, if anyone found out he was hiding her then he knew they would be both killed. She had lived with him for eight days, in that time he had never tried to ****** her or make any advance towards her, he clothed her and provided food and any comfort that she required. On the eigth night she came to his room, she was naked when she slipped into his bed and they made love all the way until the dawn, it would be their last night together. They came the next morning, he knew he had to shoot her, the Luger given to him by his father two years ago was the weapon he had to use. She wept silent tears for she knew what must be done, he put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger. He put the gun to his own head as he heard them break down the door, he knew they would have both been punished to death and this was the only way. They were too late to stop him and he pulled the trigger with the gun at his head and his body fell to lay with the dead body of the woman he had loved. It was not supposed to had happened, a German guard falling in love with a Jewish girl condemned to have been gassed to death at the camp.
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Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 4:00 PM UTC
A Love Not Allowed
Searching through the archives of - my family tree. Struggling through the mislaid vaults of ge-ne-ology. Personal contemplation on what might come to light. With so much work before me. I study through the night. Lines that take me nowhere all scramble through your head but curiosity pushes you as you study - the 'long' dead. Suddenly things come to a light, new relation leads that push you through the lonely night and sow so many seeds. Will it be - Maud Plantaginet who'll set me to the stars a Sir, an Earl or Baroness all Great Grandpa's or Ma's. A close link to a Tudor King of whom it's often said that if he doesn't fancy you, you could well lose your head. Henry Three, Henry Two, King John and Henry One. Many times Great-Granddads and the list - goes on and on. William the Con-queror and someone very quaint, Ma-tilda Von Ringelheim, she's an - Eigth Century Saint. Has all the work been paying off? Will the journey - be of worth? For who knows who - we're related too who has also walked this earth
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Finding my Past
I talk at the speed of trees that pass you on a train journey. Hundreds of thoughts planted tall, loud, incessant.  I don't expect you listen to me, I don't expect you to notice, but then you pick out one leaf from the twenty-eigth branch of the twelfth tree  and ask me why it's painted a deep scarlet. And there's n o t h i n g that stops me from turning that hue too. "To Stop Train, Pull Chain"
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May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:08 AM UTC
A train journey
There is no 'Other' There is no longer a 'Them' There is only 'Us'
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Dec 8, 2010
Dec 8, 2010 at 5:52 PM UTC
Twenty Eigth Haiku
With every new love we find We find an example from the past How even the age of reason Couldn't find a way to last For every Henry the eigth There is a Queen Elizabeth For every war on earth There was a war in heaven And I want my history to be The pax romana But my boundaries will cease to grow And I know If I want to be who I'm meant to be I'll have to fight some more I'll send my mental legions To the fore Because try as we might In different lives We've all been here before It was always a lesson learned
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 4:08 AM UTC
history repeating
once you tried to tell me what a great feeling it was to dance with someone to press your body against a girls and sway to your favorite song staring into her eyes (which looked like the stars apparently) but then you asked me what it felt like to dance with a boy, in a girl's mind. and I laughed at you. I laughed because you assumed that I had danced with a boy. You didn't understand that (why didn't you understand that? with the combination of my face and my heart it's given that I had never even been noticed) so you vowed to change that now I was the one that didn't understand that. I assumed you would get one of your obnoxious guy friends to ask me to dance, just so I could feel good about myself (that wouldn't have helped, because they would've laughed the whole time) you took my hands and pulled me onto the floor (it was tile or something, I didn't know exactly, but I did know the exact patterns that were under us because I spent most of my time staring down while we danced) I asked you why you were dancing with a rain cloud, and you said you wanted to be my sunshine, and together we would make a rainbow and I think the song said something like 'it never rains when I'm in your arms', and the two of us laughed so loud the whole school (or at least those of us who danced) looked at us, and I saw jealous girls pointing and staring, and to make it even better, you lowered your lips to mine, not kissing me, but they didn't know that, you said 'I would kiss you, but I don't want to rush things' and I said nothing, and the song was over, and I went back to my friends at the next song I caught you staring at me and my friends pointed to you but I shoved their hands away and my skin turned as red as the rose you threw at me when our seventh grade play was over, and we stood side by side playing the duet, playing the happy couple holding hands except then it was called "play" for a reason it was pretend, and it didn't mean anything when our lips almost touched and now it meant more than anything. (it meant more than that time in eigth grade when you handed me a valentine, and laughed, so I thought it was a joke) perhaps a boy really did like me, just this once, and perhaps, (based on the way you gently held me over the tiled floor and danced with me like you cared) perhaps that boy was you.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
dancing with a boy
once you tried to tell me what a great feeling it was to dance with someone to press your body against a girls and sway to your favorite song staring into her eyes (which looked like the stars apparently) but then you asked me what it felt like to dance with a boy, in a girl's mind. and I laughed at you. I laughed because you assumed that I had danced with a boy. You didn't understand that (why didn't you understand that? with the combination of my face and my heart it's given that I had never even been noticed) so you vowed to change that now I was the one that didn't understand that. I assumed you would get one of your obnoxious guy friends to ask me to dance, just so I could feel good about myself (that wouldn't have helped, because they would've laughed the whole time) you took my hands and pulled me onto the floor (it was tile or something, I didn't know exactly, but I did know the exact patterns that were under us because I spent most of my time staring down while we danced) I asked you why you were dancing with a rain cloud, and you said you wanted to be my sunshine, and together we would make a rainbow and I think the song said something like 'it never rains when I'm in your arms', and the two of us laughed so loud the whole school (or at least those of us who danced) looked at us, and I saw jealous girls pointing and staring, and to make it even better, you lowered your lips to mine, not kissing me, but they didn't know that, you said 'I would kiss you, but I don't want to rush things' and I said nothing, and the song was over, and I went back to my friends at the next song I caught you staring at me and my friends pointed to you but I shoved their hands away and my skin turned as red as the rose you threw at me when our seventh grade play was over, and we stood side by side playing the duet, playing the happy couple holding hands except then it was called "play" for a reason it was pretend, and it didn't mean anything when our lips almost touched and now it meant more than anything. (it meant more than that time in eigth grade when you handed me a valentine, and laughed, so I thought it was a joke) perhaps a boy really did like me, just this once, and perhaps, (based on the way you gently held me over the tiled floor and danced with me like you cared) perhaps that boy was you.
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