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"enlarge" poems
Our embrace lasted too long. We loved right down to the bone. I hear the bones grind, I see our two skeletons. Now I am waiting till you leave, till the clatter of your shoes is heard no more. Now, silence. Tonight I am going to sleep alone on the bedclothes of purity. Aloneness is the first hygienic measure. Aloneness will enlarge the walls of the room, I will open the window and the large, frosty air will enter, healthy as tragedy. Human thoughts will enter and human concerns, misfortune of others, saintliness of others. They will converse softly and sternly. Do not come anymore. I am an animal very rarely.
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10.2k
I’ll Open the Window
Draw an asterisk, Then enlarge it, Til it's the size of an ******* Then frame it and name it #45, And Hang it.
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC
#45
…*in every visible character man differs less from the higher apes, than these do from the lower members of the same order of Primates*.                                                                            Charles Darwin, 1871 The Other claims descent from apes then acts like a violent monkey. It pillages, it loots and rapes performing as Satan’s flunkey. Its actions bear the mark of Cain; brandishing cameras, smashing things. We feel its proto-human pain yet dread the urban woe it brings. It tries to justify, with words its primal carnage, childish rage. With anthropoid designs deferred it struts the Darwinian stage. The higher primate government rewards them well in ripe bananas for wrecking their environment (jungle as well as savannas). Their mate selection (naturally): a semi-simian solution: intercoursing sexually, to hasten their evolution. The wombs enlarge—they drop their young then text their friends while getting high. They swing from tree-tops, fling their dung, while down below the humans sigh.
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Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
The Selection of *** and Descent in Relation to Man
The tractor stands frozen - an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale, A spill of molten ice, smoking snow, Pours into its steel. At white heat of numbness it stands In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness. It defied flesh and won't start. Hands are like wounds already Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable As if the toe-nails were all just torn off. I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it The copse hisses - capitulates miserably In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings, A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over Towards plantations Eastward. All the time the tractor is sinking Through the degrees, deepening Into its hell of ice. The starting lever Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle. The battery is alive - but like a lamb Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother - While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined In one solid lump. I squirt commercial sure-fire Down the black throat - it just coughs. It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity I've stepped into. I drive the battery As if I were hammering and hammering The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly Into happy life. And stands Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly Like a demon demonstrating A more-than-usually-complete materialization - Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon Shouting Where Where? Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels Levers awake imprisoned deadweight, Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit. The blind and vibrating condemned obedience Of iron to the cruelty of iron, Wheels screeched out of their night-locks - Fingers Among the tormented Tonnage and burning of iron Eyes Weeping in the wind of chloroform And the tractor, streaming with sweat, Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
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5.2k
Tractor
The tractor stands frozen - an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale, A spill of molten ice, smoking snow, Pours into its steel. At white heat of numbness it stands In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness. It defied flesh and won't start. Hands are like wounds already Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable As if the toe-nails were all just torn off. I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it The copse hisses - capitulates miserably In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings, A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over Towards plantations Eastward. All the time the tractor is sinking Through the degrees, deepening Into its hell of ice. The starting lever Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle. The battery is alive - but like a lamb Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother - While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined In one solid lump. I squirt commercial sure-fire Down the black throat - it just coughs. It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity I've stepped into. I drive the battery As if I were hammering and hammering The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly Into happy life. And stands Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly Like a demon demonstrating A more-than-usually-complete materialization - Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon Shouting Where Where? Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels Levers awake imprisoned deadweight, Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit. The blind and vibrating condemned obedience Of iron to the cruelty of iron, Wheels screeched out of their night-locks - Fingers Among the tormented Tonnage and burning of iron Eyes Weeping in the wind of chloroform And the tractor, streaming with sweat, Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
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55
I ain’t got no intimate, ain’t got no stiletto heels Ain’t got no Lsd, ain’t got no smack Ain’t got no partners, ain’t got no drill Ain’t got no slapstick, ain’t got no hanky—panky Ain’t got no Lsd, no slot to mount Ain’t got no castrato, ain’t got no crumpet Ain’t got no conjoined twins, ain’t got no nuns or eunuchs Ain’t got no whipcord, ain’t got no adoration Ain’t got no ******** ain’t got no stimulant Ain’t got no ****** Ain’t got no oscillation, no shags No uniform, no parts No smack, no drill No partners, no peccadillo Ain’t got no stimulant Ain’t got no whipcord, no propagators No titbits, no intimate I jabbered, I ain’t got no uniform, no hanky—panky No peccadillo, ain’t copulated till one is blue in the face to have a funny feeling And I ain’t got no ****** Oh, but what have I copulated, oh, what have I copulated Let me tell what I copulated and nobody’s going to enlarge telescopic I got my ***** on my face My extra—sensory perceptions, my knobs My ****** peckers and my ******** I got my stuck—out tongue I got my tentacle, my proboscis My ***** my ******* My thingummies, my cockles of the heart and my posterior I got my *********** I got my thingummies, my talons My ball and socket joints, my forelegs My hooves, my pincers and my snorker Got my crest I got ***** I’ve inseminated cheerleaders I’ve got bottomgremlins and hacksawhoodoo And Mephistophelian juggernauts too like you I got my ***** my pistil My ESP, my knobs My vaginas, my peckers and my ******** I got my stuck-out tongue I got my tentacle, my proboscis My ***** and my ******* My ***** my ***** and my posterior I inseminated my ****** sorbet I got my thingummies, my talons My ball and socket joints, my forelegs My hooves, my pincers and my snorker Got my crest I got my ***** I got my slipperiness, my ***** I got *****
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Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 4:29 PM UTC
Ain't Got No – I Got *****
I ain’t got no intimate, ain’t got no stiletto heels Ain’t got no Lsd, ain’t got no smack Ain’t got no partners, ain’t got no drill Ain’t got no slapstick, ain’t got no hanky—panky Ain’t got no Lsd, no slot to mount Ain’t got no castrato, ain’t got no crumpet Ain’t got no conjoined twins, ain’t got no nuns or eunuchs Ain’t got no whipcord, ain’t got no adoration Ain’t got no ******** ain’t got no stimulant Ain’t got no ****** Ain’t got no oscillation, no shags No uniform, no parts No smack, no drill No partners, no peccadillo Ain’t got no stimulant Ain’t got no whipcord, no propagators No titbits, no intimate I jabbered, I ain’t got no uniform, no hanky—panky No peccadillo, ain’t copulated till one is blue in the face to have a funny feeling And I ain’t got no ****** Oh, but what have I copulated, oh, what have I copulated Let me tell what I copulated and nobody’s going to enlarge telescopic I got my ***** on my face My extra—sensory perceptions, my knobs My ****** peckers and my ******** I got my stuck—out tongue I got my tentacle, my proboscis My ***** my ******* My thingummies, my cockles of the heart and my posterior I got my *********** I got my thingummies, my talons My ball and socket joints, my forelegs My hooves, my pincers and my snorker Got my crest I got ***** I’ve inseminated cheerleaders I’ve got bottomgremlins and hacksawhoodoo And Mephistophelian juggernauts too like you I got my ***** my pistil My ESP, my knobs My vaginas, my peckers and my ******** I got my stuck-out tongue I got my tentacle, my proboscis My ***** and my ******* My ***** my ***** and my posterior I inseminated my ****** sorbet I got my thingummies, my talons My ball and socket joints, my forelegs My hooves, my pincers and my snorker Got my crest I got my ***** I got my slipperiness, my ***** I got *****
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51
I This is the night mail crossing the Border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order, Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner, the girl next door. Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb: The gradient's against her, but she's on time. Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder Shovelling white steam over her shoulder, Snorting noisily as she passes Silent miles of wind-bent grasses. Birds turn their heads as she approaches, Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches. Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course; They slumber on with paws across. In the farm she passes no one wakes, But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes. II Dawn freshens, Her climb is done. Down towards Glasgow she descends, Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen. All Scotland waits for her: In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs Men long for news. III Letters of thanks, letters from banks, Letters of joy from girl and boy, Receipted bills and invitations To inspect new stock or to visit relations, And applications for situations, And timid lovers' declarations, And gossip, gossip from all the nations, News circumstantial, news financial, Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in, Letters with faces scrawled on the margin, Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts, Letters to Scotland from the South of France, Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands Written on paper of every hue, The pink, the violet, the white and the blue, The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring, The cold and official and the heart's outpouring, Clever, stupid, short and long, The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong. IV Thousands are still asleep, Dreaming of terrifying monsters Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's: Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh, Asleep in granite Aberdeen, They continue their dreams, But shall wake soon and hope for letters, And none will hear the postman's knock Without a quickening of the heart, For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
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4.7k
Night Mail
I This is the night mail crossing the Border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order, Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner, the girl next door. Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb: The gradient's against her, but she's on time. Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder Shovelling white steam over her shoulder, Snorting noisily as she passes Silent miles of wind-bent grasses. Birds turn their heads as she approaches, Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches. Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course; They slumber on with paws across. In the farm she passes no one wakes, But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes. II Dawn freshens, Her climb is done. Down towards Glasgow she descends, Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen. All Scotland waits for her: In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs Men long for news. III Letters of thanks, letters from banks, Letters of joy from girl and boy, Receipted bills and invitations To inspect new stock or to visit relations, And applications for situations, And timid lovers' declarations, And gossip, gossip from all the nations, News circumstantial, news financial, Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in, Letters with faces scrawled on the margin, Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts, Letters to Scotland from the South of France, Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands Written on paper of every hue, The pink, the violet, the white and the blue, The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring, The cold and official and the heart's outpouring, Clever, stupid, short and long, The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong. IV Thousands are still asleep, Dreaming of terrifying monsters Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's: Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh, Asleep in granite Aberdeen, They continue their dreams, But shall wake soon and hope for letters, And none will hear the postman's knock Without a quickening of the heart, For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
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57
Across from me at the bar table, the bartender smiles and asks for my order I tell him, "anything strong," and hand him ten dollars I drink it up, feel its strength running down my throat into my ever-growing stomach I look up and remember what I've left at home My wife sat in the bedroom alone, My children pacing around and adapting the way women and men are supposed to be I have taught my son power, strength, and dominance While I have taught my daughter weakness and submission Maybe that's where I went wrong as a father Where all previous generations of my family have gone wrong Raising me as a man seeing women as objects, And I raising my son in the same manner I take one last sip from my ten dollar drink Taking it in along with my realizations In front of me is the door of my home where I have left women to shrink in order to enlarge myself to the point of overfeeding my ego And then I decided to shrink myself into the size of the women I've shrunk The size of my home has grown larger Its proportions have expanded Allowing each of us to occupy the same amount of space And so I sat across my wife at the kitchen table Looking at her at eye level She smiles and I smile back
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
A Response to Lily Myers' "Shrinking Women"
An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone Body composition improvements will be shown There are health risks that aren’t known The outside body appearance you will in the enhance But the health issues you are betting on chance Your heart will enlarge Let that awareness give you a charge Next you will have kidney problems Later everything in your body will shutdown Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound The utterance will be no sound Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up It is not worth the rush of death When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb The signal will be its own sounding alarm Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.
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Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
STEROIDS ANONYMOUS
Help Lord, for godly men have took their flight, And left the earth to be the wicked's den: Not one that standeth fast to Truth and Right, But fears, or seeks to please, the eyes of men. When one with other fall's to take apart, Their meaning goeth not with their words in proof; But fair they flatter, with a cloven heart, By pleasing words, to work their own behoof. But God cut off the lips, that are all set, To trap the harmless soul, that peace hath vow'd; And pierce the tongues, that seek to counterfeit The confidence of truth, by lying loud: Yet so they think to reign, and work their will, By subtle speech, which enters every where: And say, our tongues are ours, to help us still, What need we any higher power to fear? Now for the bitter sighing of the poor, The lord hath said, I will no more forbear, The wicked's kingdom to invade and scour, And set at large the men restrain'd in fear. And sure, the word of God is pure, and fine. And in the trial never loseth weight; Like noble gold, which, since it left the mine, Hath seven times passed through the fiery straight. And now thou wilt not first thy word forsake, Nor yet the righteous man, that leans thereto; But will't his safe protection undertake, In spite of all, their force and wiles can do. And time it is, O Lord, thou didst draw nigh, The wicked daily do enlarge their bands; And that, which makes them follow ill a vie, Rule is betaken to unworthy hands.
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3.7k
Help Lord
I am glad I lived this long So I could be on the internet. I always wanted a ****** life And though I haven’t got there yet I am close, I can see it now Throngs and hordes of ***** people; Hundreds want to ****** me. Several sites want to enlarge me, I blush, nobody wants to reduce me. I get fifty or so messages a day Telling me how hot they are. They treat me like I am a king Or a kind of ****** superstar. Calling me like sirens on rocks They do, at least, until I get To the part where I must pay To get laid on the internet. I have asked enough questions Some of them embarrassing To get the idea and understand Why it’s me they are harassing. By even clicking on their site I’ve proved that I am a fool. They say to themselves, I’m sure “Will you look at this gullible tool? Oh, and the promises they make! They will rock my world with a word. They will tell me the hottest things That a schmuck like me ever heard. But to clear the air, when they ask For card numbers I don’t make a peep. I am as ***** as a drunken rabbit But first and foremost, I am cheap.
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Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 1:13 AM UTC
INTERNET HORNDOG
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions Stones with ancient seeds Yet the roots can breathe The earthly exuberance                                                                               The naked secret of our song That manipulates my tounge Redden from you and I The contact of our lips Simulating my hunger for your groin The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight As my breast shudder from your touch Primal delicious desires I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh With nurture and greed I moisten your fingers Help you find my sensitive  pearl Relishing the trail of the garden of youth Primal delicious desires explode in need Delicate softness of my mystical place Lifting my body with much response As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks Repeatedly as you   ****** me I gasp and beg for your caress I shudder as I chase my wave Reaching as I whimper into a ****** Simulating my hunger for your groin Inflaming my pores I enlarge you ever so slow Working my hands holding you from behind One swift lick of your rigid flesh You pull in a lungful of air Your hot flesh started to grow I ease you into my mouth Circling as you keep the pace Against me you put me in deep The sweet taste of you makes me weak Intense intervals underneath Between your thighs Intoxicating the very layers of my juice I enlarge you once again Moist and ready I open my sweetness just for you As I arch down onto you Your hands rest on my hips I begin to feel my flower grow A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs We flow inside each another Deeper in my heat Your aggressive arousal Provoking me to quiver The barrier surrenders to you and I Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony Through the gateway of my womanhood As you nurish the nutrients you covet for My protruding pale pink buds Plump with need I'd hollow out to place you inside I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire As you surrender  pushing me down You penetrate my mouth once again As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Inflaming My Pores (Adult Content)
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions Stones with ancient seeds Yet the roots can breathe The earthly exuberance                                                                               The naked secret of our song That manipulates my tounge Redden from you and I The contact of our lips Simulating my hunger for your groin The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight As my breast shudder from your touch Primal delicious desires I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh With nurture and greed I moisten your fingers Help you find my sensitive  pearl Relishing the trail of the garden of youth Primal delicious desires explode in need Delicate softness of my mystical place Lifting my body with much response As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks Repeatedly as you   ****** me I gasp and beg for your caress I shudder as I chase my wave Reaching as I whimper into a ****** Simulating my hunger for your groin Inflaming my pores I enlarge you ever so slow Working my hands holding you from behind One swift lick of your rigid flesh You pull in a lungful of air Your hot flesh started to grow I ease you into my mouth Circling as you keep the pace Against me you put me in deep The sweet taste of you makes me weak Intense intervals underneath Between your thighs Intoxicating the very layers of my juice I enlarge you once again Moist and ready I open my sweetness just for you As I arch down onto you Your hands rest on my hips I begin to feel my flower grow A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs We flow inside each another Deeper in my heat Your aggressive arousal Provoking me to quiver The barrier surrenders to you and I Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony Through the gateway of my womanhood As you nurish the nutrients you covet for My protruding pale pink buds Plump with need I'd hollow out to place you inside I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire As you surrender  pushing me down You penetrate my mouth once again As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
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61
When I've written something deep; When I really want your attention; And I need you to read it with emotion, With my feelings and my voice; And I'm hoping you get my meaning, Because I think you need help, I use asterisks. Asterisks. Ever look closely at an asterisk? Draw one. Enlarge it on your screen. Notice any resemblance to anything you own, Anyone you know? It looks like the *Selfie of an *******
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Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Picture Perfect Self Portrait
Thundering voice evoking fire, demons, eternal suffering. Eyes burning holes in our souls chastising, rebuking, shaming. "Enlarge belief, says the Lord our God, or be cast into the lake of fire." Women wept, men trembled, children sobbed in terror. Tonight's collection would be a dandy.
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Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 2:02 AM UTC
Tent Meeting
Black is white and white is red, Whose to care when we are dead? Yellow is pink and pink is blue, Has the hatred gotten to you? Is it silly to enlarge the pain? It's just a skin color just the same; What some people think is real, Is imaginery madness, that's the deal. If the same eternal God almighty, Molded us all and none are shoddy, Why should we decree it's wrong, When someone sings a different song? Where the tree roots take deeply hold, Makes children think they only fit the mold, Parents shape and tell them horrendous lies, So out they go to make others suffer and cry. Unlearn this and that along your way, Determine your own future, this I say, Remember that shades of colors are grand, When the muriel created we all share and understand. Can't we hope and pray, this is so, We all are color blind, don't you know? To live and love by actions and deeds, To save humanity by planting these seeds.
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Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC
Color Blind
Bloated belly, swollen cheeks, and a sunken stiff neck on robust torso. Yet well fitted in flowing apparels; falling and being raised frequently from side to side. Obscene opulence is your delight, your prestige and your pride; amassed unlawfully by the pen, ever wet for your deception and thievery. The flight of your spoils of office enlarge the shopping Malls and treasure houses of the Occident, leaving your covetous people deprived of earning power. To arms they take at boredom's peak, whilst your virgins and maidens go a-whoring. Still, you in your sinister acts of re-election, widen their capacity for Evil, just to have your sit-tight bid guaranteed you.
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Jul 16, 2022
Jul 16, 2022 at 3:36 PM UTC
The Nigerian Politician
There can be certain potions needled in the clock for the body's fall from grace, to untorture and to plead for. These I have known and would sell all my furniture and books and assorted goods to avoid, and more, more. But the other pain I would sell my life to avoid the pain that begins in the crib with its bars or perhaps with your first breath when the planets drill your future into you for better of worse as you marry life and the love that gets doled out or doesn't. I find now, swallowing one teaspoon of pain, that it drops downward to the past where it mixes with last year's cupful and downward into a decade's quart and downward into a lifetime's ocean. I alternate treading water and deadman's float. The teaspoon ought to be hearable if it didn't mix into the reruns and thus enlarge into what it is not, a sea pest's sting turning promptly into the shark's neat biting off of a leg because the soul wears a magnifying glass. Kicking the heart with pain's big boots running up and down the intestines like a motorcycle racer. Yet one does get out of bed and start over, plunge into the day and put on a hopeful look and does not allow fear to build a wall between you and an old friend or a new friend and reach out your hand, shutting down the thought that an axe may cut it off unexpectedly. One learns not to blab about all this except to yourself or the typewriter keys who tell no one until they get brave and crawl off onto the printed page. I'm getting bored with it, I tell the typewriter, this constantly walking around in wet shoes and then, surprise! Somehow DECEASED keeps getting stamped in red over the word HOPE. And I who keep falling thankfully into each new pillow of belief, finding my Mercy Street, kissing it and tenderly gift-wrapping my love, am beginning to wonder just what the planets had in mind on November 9th, 1928. The pillows are ripped away, the hand guillotined, dog **** thrown into the middle of a laugh, a hornets' nest building into the hi-fi speaker and leaving me in silence, where, without music, I become a cracked orphan. Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day. As for the pain and its multiplying teaspoon, perhaps it is a medicine that will cure the soul of its greed for love next Thursday.
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2k
The Big Boots Of Pain
There can be certain potions needled in the clock for the body's fall from grace, to untorture and to plead for. These I have known and would sell all my furniture and books and assorted goods to avoid, and more, more. But the other pain I would sell my life to avoid the pain that begins in the crib with its bars or perhaps with your first breath when the planets drill your future into you for better of worse as you marry life and the love that gets doled out or doesn't. I find now, swallowing one teaspoon of pain, that it drops downward to the past where it mixes with last year's cupful and downward into a decade's quart and downward into a lifetime's ocean. I alternate treading water and deadman's float. The teaspoon ought to be hearable if it didn't mix into the reruns and thus enlarge into what it is not, a sea pest's sting turning promptly into the shark's neat biting off of a leg because the soul wears a magnifying glass. Kicking the heart with pain's big boots running up and down the intestines like a motorcycle racer. Yet one does get out of bed and start over, plunge into the day and put on a hopeful look and does not allow fear to build a wall between you and an old friend or a new friend and reach out your hand, shutting down the thought that an axe may cut it off unexpectedly. One learns not to blab about all this except to yourself or the typewriter keys who tell no one until they get brave and crawl off onto the printed page. I'm getting bored with it, I tell the typewriter, this constantly walking around in wet shoes and then, surprise! Somehow DECEASED keeps getting stamped in red over the word HOPE. And I who keep falling thankfully into each new pillow of belief, finding my Mercy Street, kissing it and tenderly gift-wrapping my love, am beginning to wonder just what the planets had in mind on November 9th, 1928. The pillows are ripped away, the hand guillotined, dog **** thrown into the middle of a laugh, a hornets' nest building into the hi-fi speaker and leaving me in silence, where, without music, I become a cracked orphan. Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day. As for the pain and its multiplying teaspoon, perhaps it is a medicine that will cure the soul of its greed for love next Thursday.
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77
It starts with a pinch and an itch, Between your shoulder blades, Trickling down your spine like a bead of sweat. You groan hot and heavy, Doubling over in pain clutching at your stomach, And you have this urge.... Your canines enlarge, Further sharpening. The hairs on your arms bristle. Standing on end when you hear the first tear of skin, At the base of your spine. And it splinters your mind. A wine high pitched and wanting, A gasp as your hair thickens. A pelt of fur to keep you warm, There is pain between your eyes, Your jaw stretches inhuman and ugly. Legs snap and your squatting on the floor, Arms pulled close at the elbow, Back hunched over. Dirt digs under your fingernails turned claws, As you grip the steady earth for purchase. You feel your heart beating against your shifting ribs. Strong, Fast, And aching. Lungs constrict and your eyes fly open. Blinded by the ethereal light of the full moon. You cry out, Human voice bellows loud, loud, loud! The beast sings in your ear. A roar, A howl. The transformation done. We are free.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Hello Skinwalker
XVI And yet, because thou overcomest so, Because thou art more noble and like a king, Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow Too close against thine heart henceforth to know How it shook when alone. Why, conquering May prove as lordly and complete a thing In lifting upward, as in crushing low! And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword To one who lifts him from the ****** earth, Even so, Beloved, I at last record, Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth, I rise above abasement at the word. Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
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1.8k
Sonnet 16 - And Yet, Because Thou Overcomest So
I am like water: I am tender, yet bold Your thought is my container How much of me can it hold? Do not underestimate me; enlarge the container For I am a mystery yet untold. I am like water: I take the shape of your container Your thought is that container I am to you as you think of me Look into me; I am a reflection of yourself. I am like water: I go to where I flow And I flow to where I go And I'll always find a path to follow. I am like water: I cannot be understood For I am beyond your horizon Shapen the container as you like, it will never form the true shape of me My true self is free — it cannot be contained. —JIBRIL ABDULMALIK
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Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 1:04 PM UTC
I AM LIKE WATER
Heart, Pound, Race, Touch, Kiss, Smell, Feel, Watch, Wait, Relax, Caress, Secure, Stroke, Chest, Heave, Exhale Jump, Tremble, Hands, Sweat, Passion, Heat, Rise, Degree, Stay, Think, Breathe, Listen, Light, Wings, Float, Whisper Four, Play, Tease, Arouse, Lips, Part, Suction, Moisten, Lick, Slick, Excite, Swell, Taste, Pelvis, Buck, Flow Expand, Enlarge, Protrude, Enter, ****** Easy, Grab, Slow, Gentle, In, Out, Ocean, Up, Down, Around, Receive Spank, Rhythm, Slap, Tickle, Ride, Grip, Squeeze, Please, Heavenly, Faint, Dizzy, Elation, Ascent, Peak, Climb, Axe Shudder, Descent, Collect, Regroup, Melt, Hold, Mold, Entwine, Envelop, Smooth, Relieve, Soften, Linger, Love, Live, Laugh! -----ChawzzyScript
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Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 3:40 PM UTC
VERBATIM
silken honey dew essence , natural bioluminescence , Aura pulsates in time to the  flowing blood veins , fingertip lips taste like lightning just before it flicks the ground with his forked tongue - stomach tingle , heart dip , drop. lose it all , lose it again - transfer the same - enlarge the plane, feel the vibrations of:  never the same , again. Expansive minds roll on ...                                                                      ~~~* Escaped moan is free, darkness turns to light. the whispers,    kept between you and me. Animal instinct , Divine instinct         slips in.                           slips out. carving chasms and canyons out of skin...a glint of menace  and copious amounts of mischief dance in his eyes , like a snake charmer sashaying the imaginary into existence.                                                the space dew tastes....like raspberry Champagne bubbles... the energy flows are opening now,  to handle the cosmic ****** one must prepare - an untrained mind , might combust - or worse yet , attract the dijins for foolish endeavors into treasure map waters... Sensi bows - game , set , match. Practice makes Perfect..
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
-Just the tip of the iceberg-
O! for this dark terrestrial ball Forsakes his azure-paved hall A prince of heav’nly birth! Divine Humanity behold, What wonders rise, what charms unfold At his descent to earth! II. The bosoms of the great and good With wonder and delight he view’d, And fix’d his empire there: Him, close compressing to his breast, The sire of gods and men address’d, “My son, my heav’nly fair! III. “Descend to earth, there place thy throne; “To succour man’s afflicted son “Each human heart inspire: “To act in bounties unconfin’d “Enlarge the close contracted mind, “And fill it with thy fire.” IV. Quick as the word, with swift career He wings his course from star to star, And leaves the bright abode. The Virtue did his charms impart; Their G——! then thy raptur’d heart Perceiv’d the rushing God: V. For when thy pitying eye did see The languid muse in low degree, Then, then at thy desire Descended the celestial nine; O’er me methought they deign’d to shine, And deign’d to string my lyre. VI. Can Afric’s muse forgetful prove? Or can such friendship fail to move A tender human heart? Immortal Friendship laurel-crown’d The smiling Graces all surround With ev’ry heav’nly Art.
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1.7k
An Hymn To Humanity (To S.P.G. Esp)
Bad poetry makes me ugly: Look, each line, a cliche Each blemish, a simile; My smile grows more bitingly smug With each overzealous superlative. My raccoon eyes are ringed By metaphorical self delusions, Badly performing alliteration- All improvisations of incompetence; And then the clash of symbol, deranges all thought. Choose only the wound that is in your heart That you would earnestly enlarge upon, Steadfastly ignoring all the others.
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Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
Bad Poetry Makes Me Ugly
Charges – Negative or Positive The choices are plain and simple like the site of a red swollen pimple you can choose to take a negative charge and just sit and watch that baby enlarge on the other hand you surely can choose to take a positive charge and find the sun it's not necessary to continuously lose bring your best smile and offer it to someone you are sitting here inside of my mind I'm searching for the right words to say things just seem to get harder everyday I don't want to seem uncaring or unkind so hook your heart up to a particle beam I'm hoping you will chose a positron the eyes that glow really turn me on they curl my collar and make me steam your voice in my ear I get like a drunken sailor I can feel the charge believe me it is positive you quicken my pulse even more Swift then Taylor these are the things that make me want to live so the circle goes round makes me so merry sweet are your lips like a chocolate strawberry the world is so perfect though we don't seem to know any charge at all can make a positive glow Gomer LePoet...
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Sep 6, 2011
Sep 6, 2011 at 6:00 PM UTC
Charges – Negative or Positive
I promised you i’d plant those **** pink roses but that Sunday morning that you broke me in ways even my best friend didn’t think was possible and i realized it was probably a good thing that the whole thing was a production of strictly pretend; a play, a script, an authors first mistake- that day, i clipped every last flower off and set the remains in a little drawer with shards of glass i broke in my sleep because i loved you every single day despite my i’m over you i’m over you i’m over you that i repeated with the foolish hope of convincing somebody that air still funnels through my lungs and it’s come to my attention that i’d pick my head over my heart but that is only because i am a toy car abandoned by every single pair of hands to wind it up and let it go And yes, I will reduce my emotions to dust or enlarge them in full zoom but I cannot get over that fact that the clementines rotted in front of us and you devoured the part of me that let my heart reign over my head and snapped the key to my rib cage; you promised you would keep it safe and you lied
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Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
The High School Production of A Slightly Cracked Left Atrium