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"eradicating" poems
Umm, the presence and scent of a man Magnetic attraction where his feet stands His natural body charismatic aroma Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history It is his nose that smells out my charms An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content The strength in his biceps His triceps Strong, yet such comforting arms An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears His intellectual mind to think as a man A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth Erected compass of his wand now pointing North A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind **** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me As his giving oral fixation is traveling free Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate Hooking my twerking bait His physique in general…Oh, God thank you Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do Your presence to a woman is our earthly food Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around My Dream Weaver My distance heartbeat receiver His dripping sweat Droplets to my skin have been met The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
0
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
The Scent Of A Man
Umm, the presence and scent of a man Magnetic attraction where his feet stands His natural body charismatic aroma Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history It is his nose that smells out my charms An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content The strength in his biceps His triceps Strong, yet such comforting arms An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears His intellectual mind to think as a man A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth Erected compass of his wand now pointing North A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind **** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me As his giving oral fixation is traveling free Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate Hooking my twerking bait His physique in general…Oh, God thank you Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do Your presence to a woman is our earthly food Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around My Dream Weaver My distance heartbeat receiver His dripping sweat Droplets to my skin have been met The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
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43
Selfies, I can smell the desperation, from here. odors of worry; rippling anxities of uncertainity. two dimensional, instantaneous impressions, pixelated presentations, and Teenage frustrations. up tilted camera. held against the light, Illuminating eyes , and eradicating spots. that looks like a good one. Vicarious representation; of how good one could look, fallible and hopeful. big bosomed dame showcasing blessed cleavage, pulsating the adolescent bulges. delivered to metal passenger, thereafter shown among peers. networked to unknown. Friends who'd never met eye, or touched skin, or even spoke. self conscious cropping of images. fat and fearful. wasted hours, dying for love. False dream of captivating the messes with her selfie. The very ugliness of impressions. Oh, how shallow we've became. The denial of the impact of aesthetics. laughable, torrents of judgement Skinny, fat, ugly, behold their desperate eyes behind the selfie.
0
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Shame of the selfie
Métis, Themis, Ma’at, their banter was for naught. All the tides and tithings wisdoms and their teachings, Daemonium forgot! But the heavens cry  manna as Nix cried out reprieve! An act that loosed the flood, the chaos of her sea. Her pain arose a champion to tend to all her needs, Formed of Celestial Ocean he bore down on the freed. A giant wave of madness, thrusting mist of sadness eradicating gladness... One led the ruthless breed. Opaque in their beginning, formless shapes in twining. Conjoined but not together, accompanied the weather. Thalassa’s stringy tether wrapped them all forever. Come or go in seasons, live or die in age. No Spring to Fall in reasons, travailing of the mage? Black tentacles the streamers, rooted into wave. Witness the all-wise and snaking phantom phage... Chiron watches while he prances, his dressage on the shore. Arising liminal of beings wettened ambiguity of yore. Even Iblis is impressed, such black rotten to the core! Merkabah or egg, mountain, belly, tree they squabble. All elements do I cobble, such are actions of the wobble.
0
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
The Flood
Feel the strengths of vein that hold the whole of your neck! A life of loose you live on believe A hope, a Faith even when you barely know a god. ****** juz be like:#OluwaIsInvolved Your father owns an Estate, even a country built in Gold The #Street remains a #Paradise You'll wanna go, even if you have to be named #Devil You drop your #Pride like it never mattered To gather a better world Where you'd be worshiped as #Boss You chase a #Bigger dream that the oldest in your family won't dare. Rub-in all pains that attaining #LandNeverPromised would wanna bear You #Focus , patiently hoping for what is never #Certained You #Beg your 'Luck' more than the rate you beg your #God To meet the #One that would bring you the #PayDay of no accountable #Duty #Legitimacy becomes the most irritating Slogan you'll Cause your brethren that ever utters. Authority, a #Foe that would stop you from dressing #TooLoud, Anything you ever #Wished links way back to #Money #MoneyMustBeMade the only #Pledge that keeps echoing in your brain A #Brain that works only to unlawfully take from the token of a #Brother With the #Vengeance-filled mind of eradicating Poverty that denied you of a better #Background, When you have a #PayDay, you still long for a million more In a better fold that could last you many more #Lifetime Then, you pick back the #Pride you allayed for a while so #Long Now reflect that part of you. That part, you rebuked a #RichYoungDude earlier on for Or the #Angelic one you would ever love a #Philanthropist for Remain on the #LowestKey for 'a now's ' while To be at the #HighestKey, even under the deepest ground And keep your #Brain more opened than #YourEyes While you make the only thing that keep you going as #GodBlessTheHustle
0
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
Hustle Hard
Feel the strengths of vein that hold the whole of your neck! A life of loose you live on believe A hope, a Faith even when you barely know a god. ****** juz be like:#OluwaIsInvolved Your father owns an Estate, even a country built in Gold The #Street remains a #Paradise You'll wanna go, even if you have to be named #Devil You drop your #Pride like it never mattered To gather a better world Where you'd be worshiped as #Boss You chase a #Bigger dream that the oldest in your family won't dare. Rub-in all pains that attaining #LandNeverPromised would wanna bear You #Focus , patiently hoping for what is never #Certained You #Beg your 'Luck' more than the rate you beg your #God To meet the #One that would bring you the #PayDay of no accountable #Duty #Legitimacy becomes the most irritating Slogan you'll Cause your brethren that ever utters. Authority, a #Foe that would stop you from dressing #TooLoud, Anything you ever #Wished links way back to #Money #MoneyMustBeMade the only #Pledge that keeps echoing in your brain A #Brain that works only to unlawfully take from the token of a #Brother With the #Vengeance-filled mind of eradicating Poverty that denied you of a better #Background, When you have a #PayDay, you still long for a million more In a better fold that could last you many more #Lifetime Then, you pick back the #Pride you allayed for a while so #Long Now reflect that part of you. That part, you rebuked a #RichYoungDude earlier on for Or the #Angelic one you would ever love a #Philanthropist for Remain on the #LowestKey for 'a now's ' while To be at the #HighestKey, even under the deepest ground And keep your #Brain more opened than #YourEyes While you make the only thing that keep you going as #GodBlessTheHustle
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31
armed and dangerous, 20 oz. of hot hot coffee, tablet on lap, sitting on the deck overlooking the bay, and once again, unusual for me, I am touched by the sanctity of the serenity pervading, assuaging, by waves just loud enough to sway to, the off/on chatter of the early bird's convocation of the morning's blessing, have survived another night to greet greatly the outlines of loveliness in the all~of~surroundings, which hacks my brain, for I am by forty years of habitation more accustomed to a rough and tumble city boy trader, screamer of: buy/sell/straddle/strangle/crush/kill/mercilessness, no quarter, no mindfulness in me naturally, until nature robs my tools of denial,  and I smell the sanctity of fresh sheets laid on bed, the warmed blood, vein coursing, suggesting just listen, listen, the hot shower water eradicating the prior day's sinfulness, the highly valued sensations of sensational emptiness, and words drifting from the surround movie theater of a vista beloved, coming for to fill and fulfill this always~in~mourning soul by the overhauling of a crisp, cleansing day break I, familiar with notions of perpetuity, and at best, conceptual, though my mind permits a drift to the thoughtfulness that this place, this moment, this performance art  of spectacular breathing of another dawning day, after thousands upon thousand of its predecessors, and the possibility, not remote, but not promised, to anyone, just may occur at least once more, and one must learn contentment from but that idea, and sip the cooling dregs of coffee, the sounds of human interference, car door slamming, the heaving breathing of morning joggers, the wind rising, the white caps snapping, precursors and signs that natural perfection is never permanent, always in transition, and a whispery smile crosses my cheeks, as a silly thought invades, nature is so very human~like and yet, immortal… composed between 6:30 and 8:30 am this day Wed Aug 20 twenty twenty-five Silver Beach
0
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
the moment of sanctity...the sanctity of the moment
armed and dangerous, 20 oz. of hot hot coffee, tablet on lap, sitting on the deck overlooking the bay, and once again, unusual for me, I am touched by the sanctity of the serenity pervading, assuaging, by waves just loud enough to sway to, the off/on chatter of the early bird's convocation of the morning's blessing, have survived another night to greet greatly the outlines of loveliness in the all~of~surroundings, which hacks my brain, for I am by forty years of habitation more accustomed to a rough and tumble city boy trader, screamer of: buy/sell/straddle/strangle/crush/kill/mercilessness, no quarter, no mindfulness in me naturally, until nature robs my tools of denial,  and I smell the sanctity of fresh sheets laid on bed, the warmed blood, vein coursing, suggesting just listen, listen, the hot shower water eradicating the prior day's sinfulness, the highly valued sensations of sensational emptiness, and words drifting from the surround movie theater of a vista beloved, coming for to fill and fulfill this always~in~mourning soul by the overhauling of a crisp, cleansing day break I, familiar with notions of perpetuity, and at best, conceptual, though my mind permits a drift to the thoughtfulness that this place, this moment, this performance art  of spectacular breathing of another dawning day, after thousands upon thousand of its predecessors, and the possibility, not remote, but not promised, to anyone, just may occur at least once more, and one must learn contentment from but that idea, and sip the cooling dregs of coffee, the sounds of human interference, car door slamming, the heaving breathing of morning joggers, the wind rising, the white caps snapping, precursors and signs that natural perfection is never permanent, always in transition, and a whispery smile crosses my cheeks, as a silly thought invades, nature is so very human~like and yet, immortal… composed between 6:30 and 8:30 am this day Wed Aug 20 twenty twenty-five Silver Beach
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30
You swell some strain on me, You, middle kingdom! Eradicating small detachments, Of both sailors and marines. They were ranked on islets and reefs, With an integer of nine – There in the island next to me, I’m sure, you know who Spratly is. Always wanting such detachment To be eradicated by your own; Now stationed On a World War II era landing ship. Your toy-ships came near me, With 9-kilometer of the LST. “It’s there illegally,” How adamant that be! I’ve tipped you off already, Surely will I stand firm! Then, you’ve countered me on! – Opting for the ******** of more skyscrapers; Those that are on stilts; Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? – Nearby my darling Palawan Island! “There is no room at all,” For the negotiation on some point, You’ve declared. Oh, here’s my friend, U.S. Left us with course of action to try; Everyone calm down, Be less provocative. For often, he flies over; Probing some stuffs. You are the biggest offender, my friend; In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing; Or backing, down. But hey, I won’t give up! (9/9/13)
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Islet of Dispute
Inferno, Destructive, Infectious, Contaminating, Traumatizing,Eradicating, The ending of humanity, Conflagration.
0
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC
The **** Order (Cinquain Poem)
**To the girl with the alluring melanin... skin the enticing & mouth-watering color of caramel To the girl with the enigmatic mind, subliminally affixed to mine** ॐ To the girl with the beautiful heartbeat that coexists as one with mine. To the girl with the winsome name ...my lips feel so much better when it's your name leaving. To the girl with the mollifying voice, your voice is the strongest tranquilizer I've ever encountered; It apprehends all negativity I'm engulfed in and brings me back to sanity again. To the girl with the broken heart shattered into a thousand pieces, I'll spend 1,000 days putting each piece back together and on the 1,001 day you'll see that not only did I mend your heart but I gave you remnants of mine. To the girl who was at war with herself, I've seen your battle scars. To the girl who constantly goes back to war, you are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.   ॐ                                     ॐ                                    ॐ   **To the boy with the perfectly sculpted face... if you were to ever leave, I'd spend forever recreating it's beauty. To the boy with the beautifully structured mind, which never fails to unravel every mystery within mine.** ॐ To the boy with the wavering heartbeat that coexists as one with mine. To the boy with the voice of a symphony of my favorite melody that never fails to leaving a distinct sense of perfection in the air. It scatters positivity throughout my body reminding me of the purpose of my existence. To the boy with the faltering heart which never falters enough to give up on me. And even if it did, I'd spend all my days as a cardiovascular surgeon. To the boy with the artistic fingers that paint with fire, igniting every inch of my skin they lovingly skim over. To the boy with the dark parallel lines freckled over his wrists, reminding me of the heartache, and distress you once endured. I'd spend every day of my life eradicating each piece of pain-coated glass embedded in your heart. You are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.
0
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Our Ballad (Read Notes Below Poem Before Reading)
**To the girl with the alluring melanin... skin the enticing & mouth-watering color of caramel To the girl with the enigmatic mind, subliminally affixed to mine** ॐ To the girl with the beautiful heartbeat that coexists as one with mine. To the girl with the winsome name ...my lips feel so much better when it's your name leaving. To the girl with the mollifying voice, your voice is the strongest tranquilizer I've ever encountered; It apprehends all negativity I'm engulfed in and brings me back to sanity again. To the girl with the broken heart shattered into a thousand pieces, I'll spend 1,000 days putting each piece back together and on the 1,001 day you'll see that not only did I mend your heart but I gave you remnants of mine. To the girl who was at war with herself, I've seen your battle scars. To the girl who constantly goes back to war, you are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.   ॐ                                     ॐ                                    ॐ   **To the boy with the perfectly sculpted face... if you were to ever leave, I'd spend forever recreating it's beauty. To the boy with the beautifully structured mind, which never fails to unravel every mystery within mine.** ॐ To the boy with the wavering heartbeat that coexists as one with mine. To the boy with the voice of a symphony of my favorite melody that never fails to leaving a distinct sense of perfection in the air. It scatters positivity throughout my body reminding me of the purpose of my existence. To the boy with the faltering heart which never falters enough to give up on me. And even if it did, I'd spend all my days as a cardiovascular surgeon. To the boy with the artistic fingers that paint with fire, igniting every inch of my skin they lovingly skim over. To the boy with the dark parallel lines freckled over his wrists, reminding me of the heartache, and distress you once endured. I'd spend every day of my life eradicating each piece of pain-coated glass embedded in your heart. You are not alone and I won't ever allow you to be.
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46
All things are possible perhaps including an HIV/AIDS free generation? Yeah I said perhaps; because,so far moral decay is at its peak, So I wonder what chances the coming generation will have in eradicating HIV/AIDS, I mean we just do things without thinking of the upcoming people, Young innocent children are infected and some of them aren't even told about it until they're too old;they end up living in denial hence messing up, And everyone is affected.. What can we do?? Could love be of help?, Maybe it can bind us enough to unite and do the right things selflessly thinking of the next person.
0
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
Enough love would be the way
Under the birthstones in the carcass yard is where the flesh tombs lie. Decomposing for three long years. Eradicating memories, dreams and fears. Becoming next, the black gloop treacle of putrification. Now bones, just old bones is the remain of what was once, a spirit with a name. Poetry by Kaydee.
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
Flesh Tombs
For a long period of time, we have been told to conform to the different standards set for us by the society. We grew up in a system where having milk colored skin and lean, slender bodies is the only acceptable image of beauty. Several advertisements and individuals will try to tell you what you need to buy or do to improve yourself, and I’m writing this letter to say that you are superb; a creation of purpose. In a world where violence, fear and hate continue to exist, it is essential for us to unify and persist in eradicating the barriers that have been placed before us. Regardless of our differences - our backgrounds, religions, ethnicity, political views, jobs, academic standing, and flaws or perfections – we all want the same thing in life: respect, love and success. We all want to be seen and esteemed for who we are but we must also know that a women’s success doesn’t equalize with another’s failure. It is important that we work forward in life hand in hand, rather than to step on others just to rise above everyone else. Know that there is a time, place and an opportunity for all of us to accomplish our dreams. Know that you are able to think for yourself – despite of what the world keeps telling you. I believe that women like you and me are capable of creating history every day. I believe in the power of inseparability, that we could push the boundaries and open other people’s minds to a better discourse if we collectively act to make it happen. As we celebrate International Women’s Month, I encourage you to find the good in the women around you. Let yourself be inspired by their experiences setbacks and victories. By doing this, we not only strengthen our respect for one another, but we open doors for others and ourselves. This is letter is for all the women who’s looking for their place in this world. Whoever you may be – a student, a businesswoman, a coach, a lawyer, a janitor, a musician, a scientist, a military, a teacher, a traveler, a doctor, an athlete, a poet, or a transwoman – know that you are smart, beautiful, inspirational and strong. Thank you for being yourself. Sincerely, Pat
0
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
an open letter to all the women
For a long period of time, we have been told to conform to the different standards set for us by the society. We grew up in a system where having milk colored skin and lean, slender bodies is the only acceptable image of beauty. Several advertisements and individuals will try to tell you what you need to buy or do to improve yourself, and I’m writing this letter to say that you are superb; a creation of purpose. In a world where violence, fear and hate continue to exist, it is essential for us to unify and persist in eradicating the barriers that have been placed before us. Regardless of our differences - our backgrounds, religions, ethnicity, political views, jobs, academic standing, and flaws or perfections – we all want the same thing in life: respect, love and success. We all want to be seen and esteemed for who we are but we must also know that a women’s success doesn’t equalize with another’s failure. It is important that we work forward in life hand in hand, rather than to step on others just to rise above everyone else. Know that there is a time, place and an opportunity for all of us to accomplish our dreams. Know that you are able to think for yourself – despite of what the world keeps telling you. I believe that women like you and me are capable of creating history every day. I believe in the power of inseparability, that we could push the boundaries and open other people’s minds to a better discourse if we collectively act to make it happen. As we celebrate International Women’s Month, I encourage you to find the good in the women around you. Let yourself be inspired by their experiences setbacks and victories. By doing this, we not only strengthen our respect for one another, but we open doors for others and ourselves. This is letter is for all the women who’s looking for their place in this world. Whoever you may be – a student, a businesswoman, a coach, a lawyer, a janitor, a musician, a scientist, a military, a teacher, a traveler, a doctor, an athlete, a poet, or a transwoman – know that you are smart, beautiful, inspirational and strong. Thank you for being yourself. Sincerely, Pat
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7
There's a lot more to the world Than what meets the eye Physical intimacy laced with Eradicating emotion There's no time in the universe In which peace can be acquired The day the earth stands still Is the day we know what comes next In a memory flashing by your mind Just sputtering through the motions But suddenly you're caught in derealization And you can hear her voice again Clear as wedding bells A young girl reading sermons To a man passed out drunk, and the woman who made him that way I was just 4 when I first tasted beer And I vomited all over myself I was just 8 when I first tasted liquor And I don't remember much else Chicken wings with candles And the songs my mother used to sing to me The way she'd crawl in bed with me In times of drunken solitude Ungrateful **** of a daughter Who should've been aborted, Well I tried, mama, I tried Now that you're gone and you are nothing more than ashen memories I look at you in your black box prison With your name pasted to the front And I tell you all the ways I have already died I tell you all the ways I don't feel alive. The way you screamed for help at the top of the stairs And he's shoving he's pushing and you can't run And I'm still here And I'm still here fighting him away He says he can't sleep in beds without you anymore And coming home from 2nd grade Police badges light up the front porch And they're shoving you they're pushing and you can't run And you're in handcuffs And his arm is bleeding the young man told me I was not alone And falling apart on your floor At a ripe 5 years old And I'm crying I'm sobbing and you don't care And I scream And you don't love me anymore The piano goes quiet And after grandpa died she took all his medicine Muscle relaxers and pain killers and the daily ***** And anger And she screamed at the walls she called god For taking her children away It was her all along I do not hold grudges But it took you dying for me to hold that promise It took you dying for forgiveness The family shuns me like how they did you Black sheep we are Your ashes lay on the table beside my bed With fake vanilla candles that light up all kinds of colors And I tell you all the ways I have already died I tell you all the ways that I do not feel alive.
0
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
black box prison
There's a lot more to the world Than what meets the eye Physical intimacy laced with Eradicating emotion There's no time in the universe In which peace can be acquired The day the earth stands still Is the day we know what comes next In a memory flashing by your mind Just sputtering through the motions But suddenly you're caught in derealization And you can hear her voice again Clear as wedding bells A young girl reading sermons To a man passed out drunk, and the woman who made him that way I was just 4 when I first tasted beer And I vomited all over myself I was just 8 when I first tasted liquor And I don't remember much else Chicken wings with candles And the songs my mother used to sing to me The way she'd crawl in bed with me In times of drunken solitude Ungrateful **** of a daughter Who should've been aborted, Well I tried, mama, I tried Now that you're gone and you are nothing more than ashen memories I look at you in your black box prison With your name pasted to the front And I tell you all the ways I have already died I tell you all the ways I don't feel alive. The way you screamed for help at the top of the stairs And he's shoving he's pushing and you can't run And I'm still here And I'm still here fighting him away He says he can't sleep in beds without you anymore And coming home from 2nd grade Police badges light up the front porch And they're shoving you they're pushing and you can't run And you're in handcuffs And his arm is bleeding the young man told me I was not alone And falling apart on your floor At a ripe 5 years old And I'm crying I'm sobbing and you don't care And I scream And you don't love me anymore The piano goes quiet And after grandpa died she took all his medicine Muscle relaxers and pain killers and the daily ***** And anger And she screamed at the walls she called god For taking her children away It was her all along I do not hold grudges But it took you dying for me to hold that promise It took you dying for forgiveness The family shuns me like how they did you Black sheep we are Your ashes lay on the table beside my bed With fake vanilla candles that light up all kinds of colors And I tell you all the ways I have already died I tell you all the ways that I do not feel alive.
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64
You my Eraser My words entering a vaume of contempt and your pompous praise My glass is raised to you As my head bows in subjugation To you my muzzle To you my totalitarian regime To you my censor; Never directly scolding Never directly Only molding fear and unrest with well postulated questions Sculpting hesitations Eradicating my compulsions, erasing my freedom, of expression
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Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
eraser.erasim.
you don't know how this one-sided love feels knowing that we'll only ever be best friends and that you're unintentionally hurting me murdering me and eradicating me from within and those candid words from your mind and onto my screen and into my heart they hurt and those compliments were they merely said to be amicable? to keep me entranced by you? to make me love you even more than i already do? i don't understand you and why you tell me that i'm your world and then you ignore me and suddenly need me and i especially abhor the fact that what we had isn't the same as before and will never ever be the same again and i miss you i miss our non-stop conversations i miss the time we spent together i miss your presence and your voice and your messages   and the face you make when you're trying so hard not to laugh it's adorable but most importantly i miss us but i hate you so much for making me believe that you loved me as well but now it's clear because now all our conversations are about someone and sadly that someone isn't me but in the end i'm happy and euphoric because you are it still hurts but i'm so, so very happy
0
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
one-sided
lie down embroidered in the cool darkness startling signatures dotting infinite oblivion capsizing a raging fiery glow transition singing of great chorus daunting premonition anticipate the halt of breath prior the splinter in time where the trees gander the melodious swell intimate the slumber left behind to the well of day that fraction of a moment my bedroom window encompassed upon softest pastel pallets, kissing the breeze soothing the scars and ceaseless throb amazed, drinking in the spilling of sunlight clouds streaking the stains eradicating, pulsing over nature chirping and sighing with that of sage lucid bliss settling gently on defenses in my chest and as the day swirls and falls, pulses and cringes coming home, bustling with stings pinching thoughts gone quite tired and violent the sun descends, and night begins shadows cast, swimming in direction like a flood of acoustic strumming and wink of yawning black cat the world softens and slows lives retreat and flowers sway in the breeze aching hearts and bitter limbs rest in sheets linen of softest cloth, woven by threads a comfortable place to rest my head and the day descends and night takes full crickets crying and mystery lurking fingers soothing the spasms in my brain with every turn of page, the stroke of brush resting with the sliver lurking everywhere I go, ghosting in echoes reaching out with eyes quite closed mind swirling with undefined competence
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Ghosting Echoes
FLAMES from furious friends fighting ferocious fears, forever forging faithful fellowship. INCESSANTLY incinerating iniquity in inner-selves. Ineffably influencing introspective introverts. RISING rapidly. radically rupturing rectitude rampantly, ravaging rancour. ENDLESSLY eclipsing earthly ecstacy. Eliciting elation.
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
F.I.R.E (element challenge..)
The trolls don't like the orcs the orcs don't like the elves the elves don't like the goblins the goblins, don't like themselves Fairies can be such snobs on this, each and all agree whether alone, or in mobs each, proud of pedigree The singular exception and it makes sense to me a need of complete contraception eradicating, the goblin family tree
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Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
Nobody likes the goblins
If you willingly forgo the possibilities of nights why, feel sad and lament for not having dreams? find a life of fun easily without any dream- there are millions around never dared to dream! don't make guilt demand, a disproportionate price from you, The city night, regales us  in the flood of artificial lights, eradicating  the distracting dreams  once and for all, all through night digital advertisements blink and die continuously till the morning light appears. when a  day dies out, on earlier times, a night would begin, now at the end of the day, night too  dies , in the flood of lights. why make futile dreams, that wouldn't deliver anything, make your dreams fishes in show ponds that swims at night. On the dry ears of sleepless in cities, music from radio  demands attention, still solidified sleep, with the wings of darkness sit on the night trees, no sleep, no dreams, no secrets, what a happiness!! the speakers of the personal computers of girls celebrated, sleeplessness with fanfare then boys and girls danced out of some instinct. Night stood sad at the corners of sky...
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
The city of the dreamless
England And Germany Twin sides of the same coin Light and dark the game's the same Two soldiers doing the same job Both would be mortal enemies Yet their stories are the same On a certain type of mission Getting the same result Like it's a scripted storyline The hit man and the cop Telling exactly the same story Each eradicating the ****** Not a tale I made up but real Or so they say to me What do you think?
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Nov 25, 2022
Nov 25, 2022 at 5:59 PM UTC
England And Germany
wild night videos for the dark web 3 Atlean men and a girl she got it by a mob of Moroccan **** rockets and will pine for the rest of her days screaming to the hells in a reimagined language the regression to Lilith **** ********* the world when hell touched paradise ***** and man handled shot by shot mouth to ****** to **** split and folded tooth and nail to drive the ****** tides of the world ***** monsters like T Rex force a ritual infliction butter meat of dreams pain sensually reworked into pleasure blister-hot and oh so sweet married to a paradox like feeling bad about feeling good give me your ankles ***** an unveiled immediacy right off the bat i got just the girl confiding in me so ready to die like an Aztec princess to be the star like a peacock in an engorged circus blizzard of jealous snakes strangled fanged and spewed a swansong exhibition in blood-soaked ponytails a bobbing head and choke throat ***** picnic table with mayonnaise wounds mediating power in a psychoanalytic fetish death is not death but performative submission her body ransacked in tooth marks and red tipped ******* steaming eraser head pulses a **** soaked chicken on a plate eradicating reality are you gonna eat that? pass the *** collapses time lust   custodian of human archeology **** piñata bearing gifts of squirty pork gasms ******** and cuchifritos corpus of ****** horror as liberation crosses-temporality and breaks the vessel of time oow Nefertiti where are you a tongue up the *** sniffs Prada's Candy Perfume **** blinking licks up there where havoc lives in **** **** farm country
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Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 2:28 PM UTC
Private Video
wild night videos for the dark web 3 Atlean men and a girl she got it by a mob of Moroccan **** rockets and will pine for the rest of her days screaming to the hells in a reimagined language the regression to Lilith **** ********* the world when hell touched paradise ***** and man handled shot by shot mouth to ****** to **** split and folded tooth and nail to drive the ****** tides of the world ***** monsters like T Rex force a ritual infliction butter meat of dreams pain sensually reworked into pleasure blister-hot and oh so sweet married to a paradox like feeling bad about feeling good give me your ankles ***** an unveiled immediacy right off the bat i got just the girl confiding in me so ready to die like an Aztec princess to be the star like a peacock in an engorged circus blizzard of jealous snakes strangled fanged and spewed a swansong exhibition in blood-soaked ponytails a bobbing head and choke throat ***** picnic table with mayonnaise wounds mediating power in a psychoanalytic fetish death is not death but performative submission her body ransacked in tooth marks and red tipped ******* steaming eraser head pulses a **** soaked chicken on a plate eradicating reality are you gonna eat that? pass the *** collapses time lust   custodian of human archeology **** piñata bearing gifts of squirty pork gasms ******** and cuchifritos corpus of ****** horror as liberation crosses-temporality and breaks the vessel of time oow Nefertiti where are you a tongue up the *** sniffs Prada's Candy Perfume **** blinking licks up there where havoc lives in **** **** farm country
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83
He had a tattoo on his head, it read, failure She had a tattoo hidden, somewhere totally forbidden Not much hope, he would see them both So Michael, life ***** you’re feeling out of it, can’t go on bla de bla de bla So whats the future Michael- Me topping myself I can help there, the express train comes through in thirty minutes, should only take you ten minutes to get to the station. Michael- Are you telling me to jump in front of a train Yes Michael Michael- Right, **** you, that’s what i’ll do then. Helen- Well doc, love your therapy, should I just go straight to the window Call me Drake, and no Helen, what I would like to do is make mad passionate love to you Helen- Is that not against your hippocratic oath Only if Michael comes back Helen- You expecting him back then Yes, in about thirty minutes, so we better get started Helen- You want to have *** here and now Yes, if you don’t like pleasuring yourself, I’ll do it for you Helen- How do you know I don’t like pleasuring myself Because your mother told you not too Helen- How the hell did you know that You just told me Helen- You ******* Good news Helen, your mother was wrong, you should pleasure yourself as much as possible, even better with a partner Helen- Do you get punched a lot I’m a fast runner Helen- Were you serious Never know now Helen, I hear Michael coming back Michael- Couldn’t do it, I’m a failure at that too Have you ever done a driving test Michael Michael- Yes passed first time I’ll be doing my fifth test next week Michael- So you’re a failure too No, let me explain. The first test I took, I went through a red light. Didn’t pass Second test, Learned from the previous, went over roundabout instead. Didn’t pass Third attempt, learned from previous, emergency stop. Didn’t pass Fourth attempt, learned from previous, couldn’t reverse park. Didn’t pass Michael- So what you’re doing is, eradicating failure, or part failure, knowing that eventually you’ll pass When I did my medical exam, I knew I was going to struggle at one bit, but when I got the paper back, it said failed, that’s all I saw I understand what you’re saying now, if I did that exam again I would pass. Helen, I think you’re slightly nuts, Drake, but you do cut through the bull. Though, If Michael had jumped in front of that train. No chance of that Helen, they’re on strike Michael. Drake, was your dad a seafarer then No, he just liked a particular comedian.
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
Doc Drake.
He had a tattoo on his head, it read, failure She had a tattoo hidden, somewhere totally forbidden Not much hope, he would see them both So Michael, life ***** you’re feeling out of it, can’t go on bla de bla de bla So whats the future Michael- Me topping myself I can help there, the express train comes through in thirty minutes, should only take you ten minutes to get to the station. Michael- Are you telling me to jump in front of a train Yes Michael Michael- Right, **** you, that’s what i’ll do then. Helen- Well doc, love your therapy, should I just go straight to the window Call me Drake, and no Helen, what I would like to do is make mad passionate love to you Helen- Is that not against your hippocratic oath Only if Michael comes back Helen- You expecting him back then Yes, in about thirty minutes, so we better get started Helen- You want to have *** here and now Yes, if you don’t like pleasuring yourself, I’ll do it for you Helen- How do you know I don’t like pleasuring myself Because your mother told you not too Helen- How the hell did you know that You just told me Helen- You ******* Good news Helen, your mother was wrong, you should pleasure yourself as much as possible, even better with a partner Helen- Do you get punched a lot I’m a fast runner Helen- Were you serious Never know now Helen, I hear Michael coming back Michael- Couldn’t do it, I’m a failure at that too Have you ever done a driving test Michael Michael- Yes passed first time I’ll be doing my fifth test next week Michael- So you’re a failure too No, let me explain. The first test I took, I went through a red light. Didn’t pass Second test, Learned from the previous, went over roundabout instead. Didn’t pass Third attempt, learned from previous, emergency stop. Didn’t pass Fourth attempt, learned from previous, couldn’t reverse park. Didn’t pass Michael- So what you’re doing is, eradicating failure, or part failure, knowing that eventually you’ll pass When I did my medical exam, I knew I was going to struggle at one bit, but when I got the paper back, it said failed, that’s all I saw I understand what you’re saying now, if I did that exam again I would pass. Helen, I think you’re slightly nuts, Drake, but you do cut through the bull. Though, If Michael had jumped in front of that train. No chance of that Helen, they’re on strike Michael. Drake, was your dad a seafarer then No, he just liked a particular comedian.
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45
well acting is a metaphysical assertion of the physical act of theft, in Cartesian terms: a part of the extension is stolen, for example an object passed down via generations, your grandmother's wedding ring... acting is in a sense a theft that defines creating a civilisation and eradicating tribalism: galoshes, guttering, sewers and irritable bowel movements. some said acting was a subtler form of defining theft, given the term       doppelgänger; i.e. i stole your shadow, all you have is a hand to mimic a shape of a hare's head to please children,                           deal with it.
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Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
civilised theft
Sometimes silence is preferred To those constant constricting string of compliments   Written in your words and thrown off your tongue With careless heed of the damage that they do Irrevocable words of the lies of love and lust Drip drip dripping down from your lips To fall simultaneously in hearts and in the gutter Where ******* collects and rains pour down Eradicating all trace, but for the heart in which it kindled No recognition from lips whose secret they once held Now long forgotten and poorly remembered; Lacklustre speech trailed and its meaning dismembered Ill-gotten feelings poorly deceived when hopefully conceived   From the deceptions which derided and descended From lips once bloodied; now full of false testament.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Dear Craig.