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"encompass" poems
I. The heart is clumsy, our thoughts provoking disaster when pulling on the wrong strings before the storm, and after. II. You and I, encompass the sky that hovers above us holding clouds that serve purpose to embellish or destroy waiting for the wind to mould us into strange shapes tugging at others’ curiosity not knowing what we are or where we’re going. III. Muffled speech, blinding weather in his eyes, today we are not raining together drop by drop He falls and changes, beauty into anger, I await on a lonely ground to catch him. IV. We exist in all shades, unpredictable, beautiful, converging into one another calming the anxious souls that we transport to the heavens above. V. I watch the sun and moon alternate, natural occurrences, I notice just like the thoughts that feel like clouds in my head when my heart reminds me of him at an ungodly time of night striking me like lightening, thunder echoing between these ears that long for the voice of an angel instead.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Clouds
My feet may be stuck on earth, but my mind is a realm of Eden: the heavens’ wonder. The sky is round, fits around the earth, with the sun swims in the dew on the rose. Still the giant earth falls short to hold onto a man for good! Not the sky nor the mundane can encompass a man, only fits within a man.
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May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 11:27 PM UTC
Man and the Mind
The times here, mind clear removed fear, mind fully-aware they can’t calculate my circumference they try-angle-hate to encompass i’m too persistent consistently consistent my philosophy brilliant they’re mindfully malignant plots thicken and spots pigment perfect gentlemen, acting indecent handed them knowledge, didn't keep it then peep game, telling secrets I’m sure they’re getting seasick its been written, still going off the top the deep-end, the stuck on the plot
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Rap verses freestyle
Precise and organized is the place we live. A chair, a city, a country, a world, a galaxy, all have systems of organization. Running like clockwork, precise and intricate, everything in the universe is perfect. But I don’t understand why. I think to myself: Why is the universe not a messy soup? How is everything so independent physically? The universe was once chaotic, random, and tumultuous. But now it is neat and calm. We live in a tranquil era of the universe where such a world we inhabit can exist. This entropy has served us well. We don’t have to worry. Everything will be alright. Yet as I write this war and struggle encompass our earth. People are dying in the hands of their loved ones. Screams, tears, shots, explosions. These frightening realities come from a beautiful blue marble of a planet. Life requires just right conditions to grow and evolve. Yet life is the sole imperfection in this universe.
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Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Universe
We live in an underwater bedroom Just she & I alone all the time But I don't mind I don't miss the world and it sure as hell don't miss me Knowing that I don't have to long for her company Is all that I need I can watch the water ripples play across her face while shes sleeping Her chest rising and falling while deeply breathing She helps me fall asleep And we sit in our underwater bedroom keeping each other sane I'm in love with the ways she says things as they light up her face We don't know how we got here But we are grateful that it was this place instead It bothers her greatly, those thoughts always fill her head She drifts away sometimes And when she goes I cannot find her, like she's floated away All I can do is sit in my chair and wait for her to come back I'm so terrified That my lovely underwater lady will drift away from me And get lost in her mind that can encompass her like the sea I know that I can take it But I also know that one day soon I'll loose her to the thoughts that keep her company And when the day comes I know that I will watch her vacant eyes as water so blue ripples on her face And I'll sit in my underwater bedroom, made for two With only one to really fill the space I'll curl around her frame at night and feel the warmth of her skin Never allowed to see her face light up so bright again
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
The Underwater Bedroom
the tiles that encompass me are falling like dominos this is blackness at its zenith and I have a coneful lucky me it’s like the summer of ‘96 all over again and my friend’s dad jumped in front of a coal train we ate ice cream that day in the dank Minnesotan heat everyone was dripping the mosquitoes were flocking in green cloud *ignite flame ignite* and the crunch of bones like this water falling on my shoulders *wash wash again* the sticky syrup from my chin and poor Dane’s pants smell and there is **** pooling at his ankles enjoy this chocolate-dipped cone or possibly this one with patriotic sprinkles no I think I’ll pass I’m watching my ten-year-old figure you see this paunch? it is my heart it is so fat and ugly take it from me, god enjoy it on top of your sundae I always looked better red-chested anyway
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Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
dairy queen
To taste the bittersweet nectar of thy lunar lips. Lie me hope, sing to me the song of the helix. Proffer me the chance to breach thy bastion, encompass thee in my love and compassion. Sanction me to be that one whispering love stories in thine ear while bathing in the Aurora Borealis dazzling and clear. You and I, a rickety tent and a love nothing less of heaven sent. In mine heart thou shalt forever remain. My panzer maid grant me...the fall of rain.
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Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
Smitten
I just want you to be with me, but I don't know how to have you. You're the best thing that I can see, so loving you is all I'll do. There is no light, shining brighter than thee. And there's no other way through. You are my escape, you are my release. And I love you more, than I could ever believe. How could I be this in love with a soul. You're the one thing I crave, you encompass me whole. I've never felt the way I do about you. And nothing is better, so why try someone new? I will give everything I have, and anything I earn. To have you be mine, is my only concern.
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
I Want only You
*pain knocks on weathered doors fastened ever tightly cryptic access is denied it camouflages in the shadows stealthily it watches hypervigilance enhancing catastrophe awaiting it strikes in latent graveyards the gale begins to form and unleashes its fierce torrent the latch shattered and torn there’s now an open entrance creeping in it slithers engulfing to encompass digging up emotions buried underground there hovering and foggy tho’ murky does not smother but fleshes out the psyche entombed and cobweb covered it crawls along the edges and peers in secret ledges seeps into sequesters like dust settled in feathers it slides through every feeling and when it’s at its blackest it carves the darkness out and let’s in sunlight’s presence © 2016janetaylor
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
hidden places
regret and guilt eat me alive at times wishing so much i could undo all of my crimes-- so many things from my past it seems all the huge mistakes i've made seem to haunt my vivid dreams and oh the pain, the fear that constantly encompass me whenever I think that one day all in this world will be able to see... but there is no undoing that can possibly be done to mine own undoing you see, i'm the one* who committed the acts of sin and no one can help me now no one can let me go back and begin to try to undo what's done somehow... so off i go trodding through until the end of time when my days will come to an end *and all will know my sins, my crime...
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Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
regret and guilt
if you're lost without               direction i will be one of maybe             just a few         i can be    your  own                compass                   let me        encompass          you, when direction       is unknown       my arms are a                 place to                move, come                    in enjoy the warmth for i                           will always face north                            straight true                            when your life is all recessions and really all  depressions  too let me be your compass let me come encompass you your Longitude and Latitude are all thrown in a muck let me get you to a place, where you wont feel so stuck                The tropic of cancer        Is not a place for one to linger   if you need to             grab my hand hold on like i'm               your stringer    when you cant                        gasp another            breathe and                    there   isn't                    anything                        you  can do come, and          let me be your     compass,                let me come     and                        encompass you    every sigh                  you relieve            will help                    find you on           the map,                 and every              time you             squeeze                 my hands, will help                       you to relax                        this world is                     full of                     problems, one thing that im                for sure, so                lets forget all   the complacent           and replace               them with     something               more,      wipe           away your        tears you              wont         need        them where             we are          going.             if your    lost ill be            your paddles                         we can find the             way together                          and just like               a little                                   compass ill               be here                                     forever
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
let me be your--------compass
if you're lost without               direction i will be one of maybe             just a few         i can be    your  own                compass                   let me        encompass          you, when direction       is unknown       my arms are a                 place to                move, come                    in enjoy the warmth for i                           will always face north                            straight true                            when your life is all recessions and really all  depressions  too let me be your compass let me come encompass you your Longitude and Latitude are all thrown in a muck let me get you to a place, where you wont feel so stuck                The tropic of cancer        Is not a place for one to linger   if you need to             grab my hand hold on like i'm               your stringer    when you cant                        gasp another            breathe and                    there   isn't                    anything                        you  can do come, and          let me be your     compass,                let me come     and                        encompass you    every sigh                  you relieve            will help                    find you on           the map,                 and every              time you             squeeze                 my hands, will help                       you to relax                        this world is                     full of                     problems, one thing that im                for sure, so                lets forget all   the complacent           and replace               them with     something               more,      wipe           away your        tears you              wont         need        them where             we are          going.             if your    lost ill be            your paddles                         we can find the             way together                          and just like               a little                                   compass ill               be here                                     forever
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49
I love you doesn't encompass the warmth that spreads through my soul I love you doesn't realize the need for your friendship I love you is so generic, so simple, that it really has little at all I want to say that with you, the world is at my fingertips, with you I feel alive, with you my heart races a nascar driver's and wins. I love you doesn't amount to much, it's three simple words, But then again, no words ever do. Because words are lost in seas of actions, and picture's speak a 1000 times faster in their 5x7 frames But it's the look of your eyes, the caress of your touch, that says I love you, So much more infinitely than I could ever dream And I'm left sitting here, scrawling down syllables, trying to capture the infinity that is emotion.
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Infinity
The sun is shining and moonbeams glisten through the air. Moon, not sun. While the sun shone and incinerated the sloshing intestines of vengeful beasts; the gentle and forgiving moon projected from their eyes and caught the ****** maw of a starving deer. Suitcases of leather stacked behind us filled with spruce, pine, elm, oak, cherry. Ready for induction t o our paperless society which consumes the forests of Hippolyta and Antiope mercilessly. Burning every leaf then forgetting to feel because nothing mattered. Everything never mattered. Facts are lie, opinion is truth. “No one is nothing” they shriek to the heavens striving to be limitless and scorning morality. Embrace death and all its glory. Life, while full of happiness and gorgeous splendor, refuses to acknowledge the magnitude of the word. The thing. Falling and reading and lines and circles and explosions and whimpers and screams. Agony suffered silently, alone; never understood because how could it? What could totally encompass the raging fire that devours the veins and burns from the inside out kept in place by the impenetrable flesh that glints in the forgiving moonlight. A hostile exterior that smiles, waves, laughs on cue to disguise the raging storm fighting its way through from inside. The shell which shrinks from the moonbeam and into the harsh sunlight that filters beneath the floating clouds.
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Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
Mother Moon
Let me begin this with an apology. An apology for the way I have been acting lately. I do not know what I was hoping to achieve, But I know it created nothing of what I want. Let me begin this with an apology. An apology that I know cannot ever encompass Anything near what it ever rightfully should, But for you I will still try none-the-less. I don't ever want to lose you. For over the last two years you have been my best friend. Through the good and the bad, it has been us unto the end, And to hear you say otherwise has turned my world on end. Regardless of the fact that you might be moving on, I can only ever be happy for you, and I told you I would always be here for you, always. And I do my best to keep my promises and my word. I don't ever want to lose you. I know that I may lose bits and pieces as we live and grow, I don't ever want to lose you, Your friendship I value over all others, that I know. You are a part of me, something which you've made clear to me. For better or worse that's the way it's going to be. It's simply a fact from which there is no escaping, And you know what? That's fine with me. You are my sun. High in my sky. When I think of you, it brightens my life. I know I haven't been acting the way these words say. For that, I hope you might accept my sincerest apology. You and I were best of friends, something which we said would stay. I lost sight of that, I strayed from the path. If you're willing to give it a try, it's something I'd like to get back, Because I value your friendship and I'd like it there in the end. Let me end this with an apology. An apology for my immaturity, the worst of me. For all we've been through you deserve more. If you give me the chance, I'll make it up to you with every word. You are my sun. You are part of me. You were my best friend. Hurting you is something I cannot forgive. And if you cannot either, I will understand. I'm sorry. This is my apology.
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
My Best Friend, My Apology.
Let me begin this with an apology. An apology for the way I have been acting lately. I do not know what I was hoping to achieve, But I know it created nothing of what I want. Let me begin this with an apology. An apology that I know cannot ever encompass Anything near what it ever rightfully should, But for you I will still try none-the-less. I don't ever want to lose you. For over the last two years you have been my best friend. Through the good and the bad, it has been us unto the end, And to hear you say otherwise has turned my world on end. Regardless of the fact that you might be moving on, I can only ever be happy for you, and I told you I would always be here for you, always. And I do my best to keep my promises and my word. I don't ever want to lose you. I know that I may lose bits and pieces as we live and grow, I don't ever want to lose you, Your friendship I value over all others, that I know. You are a part of me, something which you've made clear to me. For better or worse that's the way it's going to be. It's simply a fact from which there is no escaping, And you know what? That's fine with me. You are my sun. High in my sky. When I think of you, it brightens my life. I know I haven't been acting the way these words say. For that, I hope you might accept my sincerest apology. You and I were best of friends, something which we said would stay. I lost sight of that, I strayed from the path. If you're willing to give it a try, it's something I'd like to get back, Because I value your friendship and I'd like it there in the end. Let me end this with an apology. An apology for my immaturity, the worst of me. For all we've been through you deserve more. If you give me the chance, I'll make it up to you with every word. You are my sun. You are part of me. You were my best friend. Hurting you is something I cannot forgive. And if you cannot either, I will understand. I'm sorry. This is my apology.
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44
Entangled, inseparable, the dark and the light; the sun and the night. Sandy blond hair and a musical laugh; jet black locks and swiftest flight. Heights they encompass and the depths they rule. One, united forever, from balance to fall. He, the prophet, musician and scholar; She, the maiden, huntress and guardian. Spheres opposing, mixed and mighty. Fire and water, the shadows in the forest and the piercing rays of dawn. Starstruck, moonstruck and tied together in lunar madness. The Lord, the Lady, marked by fate bound by destiny, yet the fall begins. Intoxicating, this bond is; the burden of power, responsibility and statute. Deep they fell, into abysmal glorious ecstasy, and crossed the forbidden boundary. Their spheres merge, tempted they are and temptation the succumb to. Blood, the blood they share, reddens the moon and darkens the sun. The Earth descends into eternal twilight.
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Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Artemis and Apollo
Pretty is a six-letter word that can’t encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out. You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. That’s called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a woman’s confidence. When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains. On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist. When told you are not pretty, do not **** in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. It’s a healing hymn. Don’t forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like they’re shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living. When told you are not pretty, don’t fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesn’t have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine. Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
when told you are not pretty
Pretty is a six-letter word that can’t encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out. You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. That’s called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a woman’s confidence. When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains. On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist. When told you are not pretty, do not **** in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. It’s a healing hymn. Don’t forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like they’re shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living. When told you are not pretty, don’t fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesn’t have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine. Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
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.*i'm still an advocate of caesarean section... i believe in animal rights... it's just plain cruel exposing a European ****** to a pan-African phallus of a fetus head **** isn't it **** "technically"? **** me... forget the ******** **** the latex... the ****** ******* one pregnant women ************ and talking Freudian implosion will do.* personally? i hardly think ******** **** is what men turn to when excavating *********** ever watched pregnant women ************ while filming themselves?! ever watch pregnant women film themselves ************ ever? in the beginning there was the word, and the word was god... you hear the talking of pregnant woman ************ **** me... who the hell needs ******** *** when you can **** off to a pregnant woman... jerking off, talking ***** paradoxes of Freud about her yet to be born son watching her **********     who the hell needs ******** **** just watch a pregnant woman ********** oath of god...    hand on my heart...      it doesn't actually encompass a desire for intricacies of latex...             just a pregnant woman ************ *** mad... *** mad...             *** mad...             ******* *** mad as hell...   Freud? pale as an uncooked pancake dough...    the **** that comes out from the mouth of a pregnant woman ************ believe me...   i ****** off to one of them doing it helpless. nice try... thinking a man would turn to ******** ***********   can't turn to more ******** **** than a pregnant woman, ************ while talking, Oedipal, *****             try... try, ****** try to bash that fact out of existence!
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Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
**** revised...
.*i'm still an advocate of caesarean section... i believe in animal rights... it's just plain cruel exposing a European ****** to a pan-African phallus of a fetus head **** isn't it **** "technically"? **** me... forget the ******** **** the latex... the ****** ******* one pregnant women ************ and talking Freudian implosion will do.* personally? i hardly think ******** **** is what men turn to when excavating *********** ever watched pregnant women ************ while filming themselves?! ever watch pregnant women film themselves ************ ever? in the beginning there was the word, and the word was god... you hear the talking of pregnant woman ************ **** me... who the hell needs ******** *** when you can **** off to a pregnant woman... jerking off, talking ***** paradoxes of Freud about her yet to be born son watching her **********     who the hell needs ******** **** just watch a pregnant woman ********** oath of god...    hand on my heart...      it doesn't actually encompass a desire for intricacies of latex...             just a pregnant woman ************ *** mad... *** mad...             *** mad...             ******* *** mad as hell...   Freud? pale as an uncooked pancake dough...    the **** that comes out from the mouth of a pregnant woman ************ believe me...   i ****** off to one of them doing it helpless. nice try... thinking a man would turn to ******** ***********   can't turn to more ******** **** than a pregnant woman, ************ while talking, Oedipal, *****             try... try, ****** try to bash that fact out of existence!
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60
Happiness is an empty street And a fast car. Happiness is a clean, cold pool You plunge into on a hot day. Happiness is someone in your bed Who’s gone in the morning If you don’t want company Or who stays if you do. It’s someone who is happy to read the paper Or take a hike with you. It’s not worrying what others think About you and your beliefs And the wisdom to know who counts. Happiness is strength, Enough to fight the world Or luxuriate in things gone well. Happiness is attracting and repelling Without having to try. Happiness is a an aching fist And an attacker’s black eye. Happiness can be a warm gun, Depending who gets hit.* Happiness is not waiting for love, Then falling in love in seconds. It is knowing that you are fine With or without a vow, Yet being able to say “yes”, When lightning strikes And “no” when it’s just a cloud. Yet happiness is not being sure And bathing in uncertainty, Of the pleasure in mystery. Happiness is loving, faults and all, An intensity so focused That you’d gladly die for the one Who was sent by some mixture Of sunlight and shade, On an ordinary afternoon, Happiness is his body in yours, His sweat on your skin in summer, And body heat on cold nights. Happiness is loving a little boy Who looks like both of you And knowing that love can transfigure Time, exceed itself and encompass More than one. Happiness is contentment In realizing how much you’ve had And say you’ll feel rewarded When your random life is done. Happiness is the legend they tell About you when you are gone; The feeling is theirs and maybe yours. Happiness is knowing that, if you go too far, That there is no heaven or hell, Or if there is, Then anyone can play guitar. September 9, 2020
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Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 1:08 PM UTC
Happiness is...
Happiness is an empty street And a fast car. Happiness is a clean, cold pool You plunge into on a hot day. Happiness is someone in your bed Who’s gone in the morning If you don’t want company Or who stays if you do. It’s someone who is happy to read the paper Or take a hike with you. It’s not worrying what others think About you and your beliefs And the wisdom to know who counts. Happiness is strength, Enough to fight the world Or luxuriate in things gone well. Happiness is attracting and repelling Without having to try. Happiness is a an aching fist And an attacker’s black eye. Happiness can be a warm gun, Depending who gets hit.* Happiness is not waiting for love, Then falling in love in seconds. It is knowing that you are fine With or without a vow, Yet being able to say “yes”, When lightning strikes And “no” when it’s just a cloud. Yet happiness is not being sure And bathing in uncertainty, Of the pleasure in mystery. Happiness is loving, faults and all, An intensity so focused That you’d gladly die for the one Who was sent by some mixture Of sunlight and shade, On an ordinary afternoon, Happiness is his body in yours, His sweat on your skin in summer, And body heat on cold nights. Happiness is loving a little boy Who looks like both of you And knowing that love can transfigure Time, exceed itself and encompass More than one. Happiness is contentment In realizing how much you’ve had And say you’ll feel rewarded When your random life is done. Happiness is the legend they tell About you when you are gone; The feeling is theirs and maybe yours. Happiness is knowing that, if you go too far, That there is no heaven or hell, Or if there is, Then anyone can play guitar. September 9, 2020
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58
*Please....... Stop talking* For I cannot be who you need me to be I cannot be who you love For I am neither wind, nor rain, nor summer sun I cannot light your nights like a full moon and it's glittering counterparts *Please....... Stop talking* For I cannot be what you see in me I cannot be who you love For I am neither Princess, nor Queen, nor damsel  in distress I cannot save you and I do not want to be saved *Please....... Stop talking* For I cannot be the she in your dreams I cannot be who you love I encompass no fancy tales of enchantment I cannot promise an ending full of happiness; I can only promise an ending *Please....... Stop talking* For I cannot be your fantasy I cannot be who you love For I am just a girl inside a woman, I am less a lady than you deserve And despite my honest words, my heart pleads *Please....... Don't ever cease*
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
Please..........
I toed the ocean’s green. It took me to his face, a match in colors, his eyes and this water both hypnotizing, like a moth to a flame. But the sand was coarse unlike his smoothness, coat after creamy coat of membrane thin porous loveliness, to let him live and breathe. It looked unreal - him a doll,  and this sea a painting - ‘twas all too much beauty to encompass in one place, one body. That’s where balance storms in, for the water she roars she shouts and she tugs. His eyes tug too, at my heart. With matching habits they pull and smash me then carry me out till someone cares to find me.
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
Untitled
Not even the heaven did encompass Adam forever nor can do the earth. But with a woman, with Eve He is got his perfect match.
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Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC
Perfect Match
I have walked so many miles Never in your shoes I never seen many smiles Never been the one on your lips So many journeys always alone Many places to go Where I travel unknown In these worn boots In these worn boots I mark The earth with my feet God gave me a spark So the earth I enflame Every journey a mission I walk with these boots Some stop, and they listen To the words I've carried These boots are a gift to my feet Many steps they have made Whether dirt road or paved street They make their mark I could sleep while I walk My boots know the way They keep going, they never stop It is a path ever-trod Ever to encompass the earth Until I walk home To my humbled birth Deep inside your heart These boots I stomp at the door Like a knock to the ground I love you, do you know what for? Because you gave me these boots You knew I would always walk And didn't want me to forget You couldn't follow, wouldn't stalk The person who let me go Wanted me to remember, those times You were my rest You colored me between the lines Now you carry me With these boots on my feet I will find a way A way for us, again, to meet At a crossroads Intersectable, so connectable Like Lego bricks We are built, unbreakable This love, unmistakable I don't always like What you have to say Never will I strike You, and walk away A promise that comes from  a past A promise it is A promise that will promise to last My word. So these boots continue To carry promises To walk, because I miss you Just to be closer Even if I never touch your heart I know we Are never far apart Not in my head Boots to ***** in the dirt To find you Boots to wear, when we flirt Or any other time Boots a map to my home To find you, my love So I will not be alone Just me, and my boots
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
Boots
I have walked so many miles Never in your shoes I never seen many smiles Never been the one on your lips So many journeys always alone Many places to go Where I travel unknown In these worn boots In these worn boots I mark The earth with my feet God gave me a spark So the earth I enflame Every journey a mission I walk with these boots Some stop, and they listen To the words I've carried These boots are a gift to my feet Many steps they have made Whether dirt road or paved street They make their mark I could sleep while I walk My boots know the way They keep going, they never stop It is a path ever-trod Ever to encompass the earth Until I walk home To my humbled birth Deep inside your heart These boots I stomp at the door Like a knock to the ground I love you, do you know what for? Because you gave me these boots You knew I would always walk And didn't want me to forget You couldn't follow, wouldn't stalk The person who let me go Wanted me to remember, those times You were my rest You colored me between the lines Now you carry me With these boots on my feet I will find a way A way for us, again, to meet At a crossroads Intersectable, so connectable Like Lego bricks We are built, unbreakable This love, unmistakable I don't always like What you have to say Never will I strike You, and walk away A promise that comes from  a past A promise it is A promise that will promise to last My word. So these boots continue To carry promises To walk, because I miss you Just to be closer Even if I never touch your heart I know we Are never far apart Not in my head Boots to ***** in the dirt To find you Boots to wear, when we flirt Or any other time Boots a map to my home To find you, my love So I will not be alone Just me, and my boots
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An amorphous cave hides behind a cascading flow of crystalline blue, sparkling and shining like radiant glass. Inside the incandescent cave, an effervescent and ephemeral scent of dulcet cinnamon coalesces into the air of the inside of this seemingly halcyon cave. The feelings, the emotions, the sights, all too inexorable in it's ineffable reality. It calls out, with it's mellifluous and beautiful, languid and sirenic voice, incandescent with epiphany, "Come child of man, meet me, greet me, welcome me, me as the idyllic felicity some dare to even dream of, and then let me embrace you and enrapture you and encompass you in my incorporeal and frozen, evanescent tranquility." This ephemeral and serene cave now even murmurs and sings a tranquil symphony suffused with rhapsodic zeniths. It... It truly was ephemeral... A horrible shriek, a shrill and a repulsive and repugnant and rancid smell. A decrepit cacophony of hollow, anguished wailing and screaming. Pain at my soul, and a harsh, hoarse and coarse voice filled with slaughter and cataclysm. A grotesque, hirsute maladroit leech, visceral and shunned from everything and everyone, even the Earth itself...
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
The Ephemeral-Epiphany Cave Of Traps