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"ejects" poems
A calm and cool breeze Passes through the leaves of the trees, Persuading the branches to sway, Like algae in a turbulent sea. Without a cloud in the pale blue Arizona sky, The sun radiates down-- hot and glaring. It reflects off the shiny paint of the cars around me, Illuminates the brown mountains in the distance. And magnified through the thick lenses of my glasses, It blinds my sensitive eyes. The surrounding sempiternal desert Is so clear and sharp, That no one nor nothing can hide (With the exception of the beings who can blend, And despite my tiring efforts, I am not one of them.) The nearest Creosote bush Eminates of the smell of water, As it passes through a hose. I am instantly transported back home Where sand is replaced by grass and plants That require regular watering to survive. When I close my eyes I can see The illusion of a waterfall, created by the uncoiling hose As it ejects tepid water for us to traverse. But upon unveiling my windows, I allow the sandy landscape to penetrate into my soul And I am brought back to the present Where life subsists, illogically, Through a dearth of water, and inordinate sun.
0
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
The Desert
I know you think I'm the girl you've been looking for I'm not you see, I'm the storm I'm the girl your mother warns you about The girl that will ruin your life Regret is laced in my blood Heart break is tangled in the tips of my slitting hair They name hurricanes after girls like me because they know all the disaster I leave I'm the lion, never the lamb My teeth are snarling and when they find nice boys to bite on they don't know how to let go until something has been ripped to pieces I've tried to learn to be soft but you see I was born the storm I'm the drug you don't want I'm the poison you really don't need My snake bite heart ejects venom with my kiss then soon enough my boiled blood will be all over your best pair of Sunday shoes I've never been a drizzle no matter how hard I try because I'm a ******* thunder rolling lighting cracking storm I cannot calm the waves in my soul Or the bombs in my words I cannot shut of the earthquake that is me, it's been shaking my world since I was 5 I cannot love you right Some girls are the beach but I'm a forest fire, come any closer and I will burn you alive I know I'm beautiful in a tragic way I know you think I'm the girl you've been looking for I'm sorry I cannot love you I am the storm
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
I am the storm
Split mind. Split soul. Half of him loves his family. His intelligent daughter, energetic son, and beautiful wife. The other half loves nothing at all. Not himself, not his immorality, not even the toxins that he constantly ejects into his body. A modern day Jekyll and Hyde. To have a split personality is no easy taking. How does one love a single being with two men trapped inside. Knowing you will only be thought about with half the effort. Only known half of the time. Only loved with half the heart. Knowing this could drive a woman equally as crazy. While his careless half went out for another night of binge drinking and fornication, she was left at home. Well honestly, doing the same. One day it all became to much. In one of her drunken rants she grabs a pair off kitchen sheers. "Honey, where are you going?" she asked, not haven made up her mind on her next step. "Who the hell are you?" He replied. In a fit of drunken rage she charges after him. Determined that she could sheer away his lesser half. She screamed. He ran. She followed. Cornered, he had no where to flee. He snapped back. "Baby, what are you doing with the scissors?" , he asked frightened. He saw the look in her eyes. She was no longer there. The rage and fury had taken over her. "Babe, put the scissors down." He pleaded. She didn't understand what he was asking. Whether she couldn't comprehend that it was her husband back in control of his body, or if she just didn't care anymore, fed up with it all, no one knows. She lunged at him with the sheers in hand. When the officer arrived they saw the women curled in the corner smiling. "Did it work? Is he my husband again?" The mans body was mutilated. His skull was open. Half his brain was gone. His chest was open as well. Only half a heart. The women was taken away, convinced she did it all out of love. The children were placed in foster care. Both scarred for life from the events that they witnessed. And the man, well let's just say his partying days are over as well. Half hearted love kills.
0
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
Half Hearted Love
Split mind. Split soul. Half of him loves his family. His intelligent daughter, energetic son, and beautiful wife. The other half loves nothing at all. Not himself, not his immorality, not even the toxins that he constantly ejects into his body. A modern day Jekyll and Hyde. To have a split personality is no easy taking. How does one love a single being with two men trapped inside. Knowing you will only be thought about with half the effort. Only known half of the time. Only loved with half the heart. Knowing this could drive a woman equally as crazy. While his careless half went out for another night of binge drinking and fornication, she was left at home. Well honestly, doing the same. One day it all became to much. In one of her drunken rants she grabs a pair off kitchen sheers. "Honey, where are you going?" she asked, not haven made up her mind on her next step. "Who the hell are you?" He replied. In a fit of drunken rage she charges after him. Determined that she could sheer away his lesser half. She screamed. He ran. She followed. Cornered, he had no where to flee. He snapped back. "Baby, what are you doing with the scissors?" , he asked frightened. He saw the look in her eyes. She was no longer there. The rage and fury had taken over her. "Babe, put the scissors down." He pleaded. She didn't understand what he was asking. Whether she couldn't comprehend that it was her husband back in control of his body, or if she just didn't care anymore, fed up with it all, no one knows. She lunged at him with the sheers in hand. When the officer arrived they saw the women curled in the corner smiling. "Did it work? Is he my husband again?" The mans body was mutilated. His skull was open. Half his brain was gone. His chest was open as well. Only half a heart. The women was taken away, convinced she did it all out of love. The children were placed in foster care. Both scarred for life from the events that they witnessed. And the man, well let's just say his partying days are over as well. Half hearted love kills.
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1
Heading to nowhere, trudging, one foot falls a step in front of the last... left battles right as one lunges for the future and one stays in the past.. Eyes scan the horizon, new possibilities with every step… the mind grows wiser and ejects hostilities with every breath.. Gazing into the heavens selfishly to accept it’s warm love.. As sunlight falls helplessly from its ancient home above.. It traveled all the way to give me and this amazing planet life.. No turning back today, every ray makes the ultimate sacrifice.. Crashing through the darkness until it finds a reaction.. Fate and destiny have yet again have proven the laws of attraction… Sometimes it just takes being in the right place at the right time.. For inspiration to follow the narrow path into an open mind.. This why I find myself drawn to every distant corner of the earth... Subconsciously searching for my little section of sand, stone, or dirt.. Something keeps pulling me along to witness the unseen.. Embracing it with blind obedience leads me on to another dream.. So I'll follow this attraction no matter what's written on the scroll.. It's what the future holds, the unseen paints the missing half of my soul...
0
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 2:20 PM UTC
Attraction
Chemistry infuses Grains of solace Forecast Passion illuminates Forbearance wakes Queries Affirmation ejects Anticlimax occurs Siren © 2012 (All rights reserved)
0
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
Siren Song to a Lovelorn Man
This is not my home, Blame narcissism; what I bring to the table is balance and I’m not alluding to table salt, Credited Shiva when fables taught; So why am I alone? To the left are the people I left, I can even summarize as past, Their decisions were based off right removing rights, This is an act of freedom; Feeling obligated to honor a name, The illusion is last, As of right now, I exist in between, It’s during the experience, that I wonder… Sooo, why am I alone? When I lay eyes on a female, I want her to feel disrespected, It’s important that a female is aware of her insecurities, It’s important that she sees the disconnection, impurities, her own reflection, Buddy want his hotdog wet; thought ejects*, Natural selection, Buddy want the Top Dog vest, I’m baffled, I only guide a confession, I’m eliciting the potential, Pushing a resurrection, Sharing; passing lessons, Sparking questions, My love you’re in the box, I want you to be free; Change of perception, They fed you food for regressions and impressions, Polarity rings; I’m attracted to the curves, the body’s expression, That musty smell of oppression/depression, How could you blame me for wanting to interfere, I hate MEN; I’m calling progressive… FLO here, For lovers only, Love is what I’ve been giving since birth, and I don’t expect a return, People show hate; universe translation (twenty years later), “Tough love”; discerned, I laugh daily, that is the outcome of pain, Me wearing colors was the outcome of being plain, I made a choice; no longer was the same, I can honestly relate to Jane, Feminism is misconceived these days; point was a healthy balance of both carries no shame, It’s unknown, separate from the game, Adiyogi Shiva; Transcendental if omming the name… I always wonder if I’m narcissistic; I love people unconditionally, there’s no reason why I should ever feel alone.
0
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
Earth is not my Home
This is not my home, Blame narcissism; what I bring to the table is balance and I’m not alluding to table salt, Credited Shiva when fables taught; So why am I alone? To the left are the people I left, I can even summarize as past, Their decisions were based off right removing rights, This is an act of freedom; Feeling obligated to honor a name, The illusion is last, As of right now, I exist in between, It’s during the experience, that I wonder… Sooo, why am I alone? When I lay eyes on a female, I want her to feel disrespected, It’s important that a female is aware of her insecurities, It’s important that she sees the disconnection, impurities, her own reflection, Buddy want his hotdog wet; thought ejects*, Natural selection, Buddy want the Top Dog vest, I’m baffled, I only guide a confession, I’m eliciting the potential, Pushing a resurrection, Sharing; passing lessons, Sparking questions, My love you’re in the box, I want you to be free; Change of perception, They fed you food for regressions and impressions, Polarity rings; I’m attracted to the curves, the body’s expression, That musty smell of oppression/depression, How could you blame me for wanting to interfere, I hate MEN; I’m calling progressive… FLO here, For lovers only, Love is what I’ve been giving since birth, and I don’t expect a return, People show hate; universe translation (twenty years later), “Tough love”; discerned, I laugh daily, that is the outcome of pain, Me wearing colors was the outcome of being plain, I made a choice; no longer was the same, I can honestly relate to Jane, Feminism is misconceived these days; point was a healthy balance of both carries no shame, It’s unknown, separate from the game, Adiyogi Shiva; Transcendental if omming the name… I always wonder if I’m narcissistic; I love people unconditionally, there’s no reason why I should ever feel alone.
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44
With fingers holding the tail end of a cigarette (or the head end) I wonder how my Daddy feels, when he imagines killing people who are different to him cigarette companies make cigarettes and he generates poison, and ejects it with his words. His poison existed in my blood and in my soul for years Mecca, Baghdad, colour, allah; the person, the religion. I hated them all, with the power that Daddy hates cigarettes and of course the others What gives him the right to hate all of those things, and tell me what I should and shouldn't hate. I lift the cigarette up to my mouth and enjoy the thought of my bubble wrap lungs popping I cough and it's rubbing it in my Daddy's face While you're scheming dropping bombs, and becoming what you hate I'm dying, slowly and laughing at the morbid thought that while your hate won't **** anyone; your crippled manhood. My hate for you is killing me inhale, exhale.
0
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
Hypocrisy and Cigarettes
aix, beck's, becks, blech's, checks, cheques, czechs, dec's, decks, dex, eckes, eques, ex, fecks, flecks, flex, heck's, hex, jex, kecks, lecce, lex, meckes, mex, necks, nex, next, peck's, pecks, plex, rex, sheck's, shek's, specks, specs, sphex, tech's, techs, teck's, tex, treks, vex, whelks, wrecks, x, x. amex, ampex, annex, apec's, apex, armtek's, avtex, aztecs, berlex, caltex, cemex, centex, cmx, comex, complex, comtrex, convex, crownx, defex, dissects, duplex, effects, ejects, entex, execs, expects, eyetech's, fanech's, fedex, finex, gatx, gtech's, inmex, intex, latex, memtec's, metex, natec's, nobec's, nymex, nynex, objects, onex, opec's, paychecks, paychex, pemex, perplex, pewex, playtex, portec's, projects, qintex, quebec's, railtex, rednecks, reflects, rejects, respects, roughnecks, scitex, simplex, starplex, steinbeck's, subjects, suspects, syntex, telex, telmex, tenrecs, timeplex, tridex, trintex, triplex, truex, vertex, visx, wall-tex, wedtech's, westtech's adaptec's, ametek's, atx, banamex, between decks, biotechs, bottlenecks, cineplex, cybersex, cytotechs, datarex, discotheques, equitex, eurochecks, gendrisek's, genentech's, govpx, hyponex, intellects, intersects, kaisertech's, malcolm x, medarex, mediplex, megaplex, memorex, methanex, metroplex, middlesex, multidex, multiplex, neorx, oraflex, pillowtex, prentnieks, rolodex, stratoflex, superx, symantec's, teleflex, turtlenecks, unisex, ventritex adaptaplex, ameritech's, audiotex, begonia rex, ****** simplex, solar apex, videotex, tyrannosaurus rex, regression of y on x
0
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
***
aix, beck's, becks, blech's, checks, cheques, czechs, dec's, decks, dex, eckes, eques, ex, fecks, flecks, flex, heck's, hex, jex, kecks, lecce, lex, meckes, mex, necks, nex, next, peck's, pecks, plex, rex, sheck's, shek's, specks, specs, sphex, tech's, techs, teck's, tex, treks, vex, whelks, wrecks, x, x. amex, ampex, annex, apec's, apex, armtek's, avtex, aztecs, berlex, caltex, cemex, centex, cmx, comex, complex, comtrex, convex, crownx, defex, dissects, duplex, effects, ejects, entex, execs, expects, eyetech's, fanech's, fedex, finex, gatx, gtech's, inmex, intex, latex, memtec's, metex, natec's, nobec's, nymex, nynex, objects, onex, opec's, paychecks, paychex, pemex, perplex, pewex, playtex, portec's, projects, qintex, quebec's, railtex, rednecks, reflects, rejects, respects, roughnecks, scitex, simplex, starplex, steinbeck's, subjects, suspects, syntex, telex, telmex, tenrecs, timeplex, tridex, trintex, triplex, truex, vertex, visx, wall-tex, wedtech's, westtech's adaptec's, ametek's, atx, banamex, between decks, biotechs, bottlenecks, cineplex, cybersex, cytotechs, datarex, discotheques, equitex, eurochecks, gendrisek's, genentech's, govpx, hyponex, intellects, intersects, kaisertech's, malcolm x, medarex, mediplex, megaplex, memorex, methanex, metroplex, middlesex, multidex, multiplex, neorx, oraflex, pillowtex, prentnieks, rolodex, stratoflex, superx, symantec's, teleflex, turtlenecks, unisex, ventritex adaptaplex, ameritech's, audiotex, begonia rex, ****** simplex, solar apex, videotex, tyrannosaurus rex, regression of y on x
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1
Thu. Aug 11 2022 7:16 AM ~ for Julia and Joanne~ good neighbors <> a renewable habit apparently, again, a first poem of the day (FPOTD), comes early, this old practice, me-bedded and mugged, with music ear installed drowning the noises of television blah, iPad rests on left leg, left hand pointer finger ejects capsules of letters, charmed into existence by the Barber adagio. the Weather Channel forecasts morning-rain and my window to trample and shuffle this deteriorating body rapid closes, and the sun, weak, in concession speech, begs pardon, throws off a few miscellaneous rays by way of apology, fooling no one, except for the hopeful, itinerant poets, & the bunnies-neath-the deck. know now you understand the poems entitlement, as is my wont, you’ve been invited inside, sharing eyes and senses, you journey today from a vantage no one else possesses, just you and me. Later, we will drive to the Parrish Museum, studying modern painters, each will inquire, a poem for me please, I nod sure, perhaps? promise little, deliver less, is this your best? A travelogue of the mundane, the little things, that do not stir your heart, smile tears, and make you think wish I was there, or this, being just too-me-boring? The brain growls, no one making them read this perfunctoriness, nonetheless, you apologize, pardon the no-angst trivia of daily life. like the acid reflux bile, swallowed and returned to whence it came. before it invades, tarnishes the peace of our surroundings and the pleasure of your company, as I read your writings, *worth so much, filled with so much angry pain, I want to easy-soften the everything, if this missive, takes you-nearer, to the calmer~closer, this poem, you transform it from perfunctory, to just, simply* perfect. 8:18 AM Shelter Island
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Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 8:37 AM UTC
A Perfunctory Morning Poem
Thu. Aug 11 2022 7:16 AM ~ for Julia and Joanne~ good neighbors <> a renewable habit apparently, again, a first poem of the day (FPOTD), comes early, this old practice, me-bedded and mugged, with music ear installed drowning the noises of television blah, iPad rests on left leg, left hand pointer finger ejects capsules of letters, charmed into existence by the Barber adagio. the Weather Channel forecasts morning-rain and my window to trample and shuffle this deteriorating body rapid closes, and the sun, weak, in concession speech, begs pardon, throws off a few miscellaneous rays by way of apology, fooling no one, except for the hopeful, itinerant poets, & the bunnies-neath-the deck. know now you understand the poems entitlement, as is my wont, you’ve been invited inside, sharing eyes and senses, you journey today from a vantage no one else possesses, just you and me. Later, we will drive to the Parrish Museum, studying modern painters, each will inquire, a poem for me please, I nod sure, perhaps? promise little, deliver less, is this your best? A travelogue of the mundane, the little things, that do not stir your heart, smile tears, and make you think wish I was there, or this, being just too-me-boring? The brain growls, no one making them read this perfunctoriness, nonetheless, you apologize, pardon the no-angst trivia of daily life. like the acid reflux bile, swallowed and returned to whence it came. before it invades, tarnishes the peace of our surroundings and the pleasure of your company, as I read your writings, *worth so much, filled with so much angry pain, I want to easy-soften the everything, if this missive, takes you-nearer, to the calmer~closer, this poem, you transform it from perfunctory, to just, simply* perfect. 8:18 AM Shelter Island
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36
At high tide, the sea ejects foam and glass fishing floats. We wait for the waters to recede, tiptoe around anemones and ***** I spot a small green globe. She says it belongs to a Japanese goddess, her eyes plucked out by a vengeful lover and cast into the deep. I see only an old sake bottle crafted into a sphere, etched with sand and netting patterns. Tomorrow, I will look for agates while she searches for the goddess’s other eye.
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Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 8:16 PM UTC
beachcombing
Pneumatic bliss, dissolution on a solenoid whim, electrified soul as the tape ejects. © H V Swan
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Pneumatic bliss
Chemistry infuses Grains of solace Forecast Passion illuminates Forbearance wakes Queries Affirmation ejects Anticlimax occurs Siren © 2012 (All rights reserved)
0
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:44 PM UTC
Forecast
It’s a tail where Batman and Robin are the victims Its goes beyond Gotham City crime comprehension However, Batman and Robin are captioned in sublime The Batmobile wants to fight crime alone The Batmobile ejected Batman and Robin and let it be shown The Batmobile is more equipped Batman and Robin just didn’t fit There’s no room with a backseat Batman and Robin will have to sum up a defeat Gotham City crime waves will be justified by the Batmobile Yet Batman and Robin are concentrating on is this car for real? The fact remains that the cape crusaders just can’t deal The Batmobile being the new avenger being the feel It’s the car with electronics on wheels The Villains don’t stand a chance and will have to deal The reel could very well read “The Batmobile Crime Stopper intends to succeed” Batman and Robin have been replaced They are no longer the ace It will be the Batmobile and Villains face to face Batman and Robin are now a erase Imagine the TV fate slogan, “Batmobile caught by surprise, and didn’t realize. The wheels being anchored down with chains and no movement bound” Same wheels tomorrow and will the Batmobile overcome its ordeal?
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
BATMOBILE EJECTS
Dread crawls up my spine, originating at the small of my back and leaving penetrating residue on each vertebra as it climbs. It sneaks into my heart when I'm not looking and POUNCES- its incisors clamp down and its venom ejects into my chest; paralysis begins there and races outwards right into my limbs and brain until I can't think or move as the hallucinogens take over my mind's eye and play me a reel that boils my stomach. Loss and loneliness and heartbreak flash before my eyes in a sickening torrent. I feel a W  A  L  L of irresistible time behind my back, pushing me, heels digging in and pleading "no, no" the whole way, slowly, but inevitably towards the end of everything I've ever known, and everyone that I've so recently grown to truly, dearly love as my friends. So many around me are counting down to that day, bound to the same force as I, but feeling it instead as a leash that will only let them go inch           by                 inch,                          day                                  by                                        day. For them, a prison break; for me, a life sentence of aching for the people I've only just claimed as mine; among them, the boy I've held on to, just starting to become a man, whom I love with all my bruised and scarred heart. I don't want to leave.                                      .                                       .                                        .
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
Inescapable
Dread crawls up my spine, originating at the small of my back and leaving penetrating residue on each vertebra as it climbs. It sneaks into my heart when I'm not looking and POUNCES- its incisors clamp down and its venom ejects into my chest; paralysis begins there and races outwards right into my limbs and brain until I can't think or move as the hallucinogens take over my mind's eye and play me a reel that boils my stomach. Loss and loneliness and heartbreak flash before my eyes in a sickening torrent. I feel a W  A  L  L of irresistible time behind my back, pushing me, heels digging in and pleading "no, no" the whole way, slowly, but inevitably towards the end of everything I've ever known, and everyone that I've so recently grown to truly, dearly love as my friends. So many around me are counting down to that day, bound to the same force as I, but feeling it instead as a leash that will only let them go inch           by                 inch,                          day                                  by                                        day. For them, a prison break; for me, a life sentence of aching for the people I've only just claimed as mine; among them, the boy I've held on to, just starting to become a man, whom I love with all my bruised and scarred heart. I don't want to leave.                                      .                                       .                                        .
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77
I don't care... ...If he Plays with my heart then throws it away ...If he Embraces me tight, but will never stay ...If he Rejects my love, I'll offer it again. ...If he Fails to love me back, I'll love him even then ...If he Erases me from his life, my emotions won't fade ...If he Curses me for my strife, I still won't be afraid. ...He isThe one, I know that for me he is made...
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Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
Love poems for him
She is angry! She is angry! She makes people angry when she is angry! She sours. She pouts. She frowns! “Help us! Help us!” She is about to pounce! Her face is pale but it spells R-E-D. All hail! All hail! that this is DREAD! It is boiling inside; Her wrath. Explodes! Like a Vesuvius’ eruption. So, When she screams When she shouts She ejects hot lava! Please, “Leave us be! Leave us be!” Beg we as a team. PUFF! She evaporates like hot steam.
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Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:19 PM UTC
A boiling SHE
Here is my heart Held in my hands Not upon a pedestal Not upon a throne It resides there, still pumping Provides life, gives blood One side takes in blood Alas, the other pathway ejects... Tears. Where is your heart? What you've guarded so soundly? It is of pure redness Health and beautiful What pain has ever beset it? What tragedy has ever strained it? Has it ever skipped a beat? Forgot to pump, to breathe, to live? I show you my heart Upon my outstretched hand Looking upon you with an angled face Out of the side of my eyes Looking with contempt and jealousy Because your heart knows not of strain So look! Into my heart! The blood and tears dripping! Through my fingers... The stitches down and around, The patches all over The large portion of it missing The part of it that's blue, And green, And black... You cannot look at my own heart And tell what pain and strain is... I have felt rejections On all levels of love. I have never guarded my heart It is true: It is better to have loved and lost Than to never have loved at all And yet you'd dare not look inside it How could such horror contain benevolence? Yet there is more there Than anyone has ever seen.
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Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 9:59 PM UTC
The ****** Trail of Tears
When a lone ball of cotton lazily traverses an azure sky When the last crackled leaf releases a barren branch When the last echo is swallowed by the rock strewn valley When the last brave chick launches itself from an empty nest When the last hollow shell ejects and the open chamber smokes When the last goodbye is tearfully sighed from quivering lips When the last drop of dew clings to a shadowed blade When the last word of an epic tome is whispered That’s when I know I am not alone, that you are always with me
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
when
Oh the kiddos outta there whoever again dare to call me names that end it with a Girl or a Mademoiselle You at most reflect an image of me to fit to the level of your potency same as to a ridicule of your fantasy weeping and spitting big turfs of -at most admirably- musical words as your age allows you to be an equivalence that functions still OH THE WOW in most efficiency only whenever the rhythmic pumping ejects seedlings to swim up the rat-race from your reptilian starship   parked at sacred ocean’s depths crossing a few inches behind thyn abdomen towards your jellyfish brain and that’s shorter than TIME oh the poor whining with BIG Holy One hidden in the oaths of your monstrous zombie-town so now listen in PURE Attention to me (if you can)   It’s True my first kiss was at age twenty three HAHAHA and yet not even a romantic one at most an obligatory who knows maybe a task from the higher self probably to teach me or the physical body - YES and the last one at age forty that tried to **** all the ****** futility outta me the rest and the in between remains dark and edgy and thorny who cares when it does not bother me what business does relate to you oh my Sexuality or the inherited **** beauty but that makes not less of me when I am now almost 43   my coal black hair made of Sea Breeze grows the beauty of my aging color to the creamy WHITE topping of delicious wisdom cookies baked by my peaceful wishing the joy of my child innocence remains to fire Passion and Desire which I reserve to one/ single poem only who made me realize the truth of me recently   that I  haven’t yet dated … a Monsieur who dares to call me a Madame with whom I can fully be Me and grow towards a maturity.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Temper MADAME
Oh the kiddos outta there whoever again dare to call me names that end it with a Girl or a Mademoiselle You at most reflect an image of me to fit to the level of your potency same as to a ridicule of your fantasy weeping and spitting big turfs of -at most admirably- musical words as your age allows you to be an equivalence that functions still OH THE WOW in most efficiency only whenever the rhythmic pumping ejects seedlings to swim up the rat-race from your reptilian starship   parked at sacred ocean’s depths crossing a few inches behind thyn abdomen towards your jellyfish brain and that’s shorter than TIME oh the poor whining with BIG Holy One hidden in the oaths of your monstrous zombie-town so now listen in PURE Attention to me (if you can)   It’s True my first kiss was at age twenty three HAHAHA and yet not even a romantic one at most an obligatory who knows maybe a task from the higher self probably to teach me or the physical body - YES and the last one at age forty that tried to **** all the ****** futility outta me the rest and the in between remains dark and edgy and thorny who cares when it does not bother me what business does relate to you oh my Sexuality or the inherited **** beauty but that makes not less of me when I am now almost 43   my coal black hair made of Sea Breeze grows the beauty of my aging color to the creamy WHITE topping of delicious wisdom cookies baked by my peaceful wishing the joy of my child innocence remains to fire Passion and Desire which I reserve to one/ single poem only who made me realize the truth of me recently   that I  haven’t yet dated … a Monsieur who dares to call me a Madame with whom I can fully be Me and grow towards a maturity.
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I’ve never met anyone like you. *Take that as a compliment but don’t overlook the underlying insult.* Your gentle words have the power to widen my smile while our difference of endless opinions make me wonder how we would ever work. How could this ever be what we think it’s worth? I tell myself the frustration with you only proves that I care more than I thought I did, more than I intended to. My heart doing everything my brain told it not to do; which was fall for you. But you aren’t there to catch me. It’s more like you falling with me. Side by side. Deep into unexpected attraction, dipped in crazed amounts of mental satisfaction that somehow make me forget how we could even disagree in the first place. I can’t say I mind the sudden change in my mood, the tune in my voice, or the way parts of my body feel as your lips trace its frame, because forever embedded is the purity of sweet sound my ears devour as your tongue ejects my name. So say it again, but  s l o w e r. Let it linger as you add to this relationship’s value. Continue being the muse of my over-thought thinking because honestly, I’ve never met anyone like you.
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
untitled.
Made In China Your electrical items stop working one by one First the kettle stops boiling even tho the red light’s on Then your microwave stops heating tho it turns round It gets fixed and works for a week then is totally dead As for your TV it turns on but has a single line across it The VHS video player ate the **** tape and jammed Your radio gets nothing but static on all channels The mobile phone charges but dies after 3 minutes The other charger that lights up but doesn’t charge Red LOS modem light means no connection Along with a new fan with a burnt out motor Your car radio eats tapes ejects CDs and smokes The aircon is clunky and spreads a virus killing us All items made in Red China sub standard parts junk Unskilled low paid slave labour don’t give a **** Don’t buy anything made in Red China its crap
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Sep 1, 2021
Sep 1, 2021 at 1:13 PM UTC
Made In China
He’s already in the room when I walk in. He can see me wringing my hands and a grin half-bananas on his face, as if he knows precisely how our conversation will go, because everyone who’s ever met him ends up the same way, with a tempest in their skulls and an avalanche in their guts. He’s ordered me a black coffee - knows it’ll keep me up tonight. I crumple my fists under the table, ready for the comic-strip moment where I overthrow the baddie, B O S H ! right in the chops, but it’d be like punching concrete. I’d come off worse, of course. I tell him to stop playing, that it’s gone on too long. He sees me wringing my hands again and a guffaw ejects from his chest, an ugly-bird sound. How many times I’ve turned down an opportunity, how many times I’ve said I’ll think about it only to pass and watch the night eke away as treacle down the sink. He’s the blister in my life. I dismiss the drink, get up to leave, my only remark, ‘are you leaving too?’ That disgusting smirk. ‘Don’t be silly. We’re friends.’ Outside I breathe fast though not out of breath, my palms raspberry-pink. He’s already waiting when I get home.
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
The Blister
A river was frozen in my chest, O god – I choose a burning boat to reach you. My planet has become a broken bridge. Voiceless hymns are haunting me. Standing in a remote village of words, my poetry beside me. I want to cross the thick woods. The hairy legs of tarantula – I am ready to meet them on my body. A skylark ejects a lyric at my terrace, I become a flame. Pour honey, pour water I will glow more. The sparks will stay hidden. When the sky would be overcast and dark, thousands of stars will come out. Suddenly there will be light.
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Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
I Will Glow More