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"evidential" poems
Tedium brought them here. Bored with routine head-counts, museums and man-made landmarks. Impulse told them To flatten the silent fronds, Blindly tear down the hampering vines, Rattle the industrious cities beneath their feet. Curiosity led them To this patch of unkempt squitch, This sacred space littered with clean bones. No words came with them. Only Observation... ... a leaping fire tended by savages Polished teeth strung around their necks, The bark-ridged skin, The supernaturally piercing eyes, Their ashen members grazing the farinaceous earth. At the heart of this sacred place Littered with the clean bones, Condesention covered them with coats, Misinterpreted grins exposing evidential remains. Fear penetrated their too-white skins, Their souls through the sockets of their eyes, Their clattering teeth. All this is true : The scattered bones, The brass buttons blinking through starved ashes, The arrows in a glass case. copyright © Caroline Grace 2012
0
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
Tribal Vibes.
A leitmotif of your average smug **** is a proverb here and there. Spouting them off like the receptor has no care. Their evidential naivety is blatant and almost impossible to bear. As an audience member you can do nothing but hide your malevolence and stare. ******* in maxims that are apparently laced with benevolence and care. You know the kind of oxygen waster I’m referring to. The type of person that watches BBC 4 and likes tofu. The kind that does the Financial Times So-fucking-Do-Ku. Look I’m just saying that clichés annoy me. I’m not asking you to love me, give me a reach around or employ me. In fact you don’t even have to enjoy me as I tell you of things that matter not. Suture yourself hypothetically to a geographically different mind. That mind being mine, oh that maverick-esque mischievous mind of mine, looking at this from my perspective. In my transcendental endeavours to rid the clichéd ridden world of the afore mentioned adjective. In the opposite of anachronistic times, we might successfully, surreptitiously rid the world of moral coated rhymes. We can do this; all it takes is a few. One of which needs to be you. Break out from being solipsistic, even the blind, the meek, the autistic, those that besmirch the edge of coffee cups with their lipstick. Yes, I mean you. Here is what to do… The next time someone spouts off a cliché, punish them, make them listen to an album by “Hearsay.” If someone says “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Then simply say, Steve Jobs had thousands and the here’s the definite answer, that consumerism inducer still died of cancer. If a woman says “When I say jump. You say how high!” Don’t even cogitate to pardon her. If the grass is always greener on the other side – shoot your ******* gardener.
0
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
Clichés
A leitmotif of your average smug **** is a proverb here and there. Spouting them off like the receptor has no care. Their evidential naivety is blatant and almost impossible to bear. As an audience member you can do nothing but hide your malevolence and stare. ******* in maxims that are apparently laced with benevolence and care. You know the kind of oxygen waster I’m referring to. The type of person that watches BBC 4 and likes tofu. The kind that does the Financial Times So-fucking-Do-Ku. Look I’m just saying that clichés annoy me. I’m not asking you to love me, give me a reach around or employ me. In fact you don’t even have to enjoy me as I tell you of things that matter not. Suture yourself hypothetically to a geographically different mind. That mind being mine, oh that maverick-esque mischievous mind of mine, looking at this from my perspective. In my transcendental endeavours to rid the clichéd ridden world of the afore mentioned adjective. In the opposite of anachronistic times, we might successfully, surreptitiously rid the world of moral coated rhymes. We can do this; all it takes is a few. One of which needs to be you. Break out from being solipsistic, even the blind, the meek, the autistic, those that besmirch the edge of coffee cups with their lipstick. Yes, I mean you. Here is what to do… The next time someone spouts off a cliché, punish them, make them listen to an album by “Hearsay.” If someone says “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Then simply say, Steve Jobs had thousands and the here’s the definite answer, that consumerism inducer still died of cancer. If a woman says “When I say jump. You say how high!” Don’t even cogitate to pardon her. If the grass is always greener on the other side – shoot your ******* gardener.
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21
If a bell tolls... For whom, is a lover known? Threshold to act upon weary eyes, oh you soul The creation we find, in void moments sown... A rue of compassion The till in evidential hills Sun and wine, to tell a tale to promises lasting... A herald of simple gifts and rises of poise, will Lovers to the end Exactly need, in voice's portrayal And seeking guidance for a named lip, here is mend In the scope of distance and reality of a soul Succinctly new? And with sense's favors, to claim a richness of good... In the speed we accredit to love, is worth a filial who? Seeing the gesture bloomed, is fate acts or paces, new? Heed me when the holiday is over, lover Might's to consider a whole, if a liberty is to be The thought of romance, is a changing season, meant dour In the shared seldom, of when a passion has it, to lead... A fruit of conscience A hap of solace, predestined to same A reason of couth, to collect a hardier presence A wish of blessing the best you have to often, and the patience of fame
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Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 7:15 PM UTC
Why Love, Is A Wisdom's Shoulder (Baring Wait...)
Stars to dwell in the night Paces in the account, of a new peace Rages, and the toll of evidential might The cares of worlds that collect but a keeping least Use, and the unction of void causes Reciprocate and notice a share in the form Flowers of justice, tree's of a unique treasure When we spy a day reproofed, the kiss of all and norm Wishes to run... And bless the cold shoulders of avarice With a requited passage of what is ours, what is fun When a place above clouds, has a charity to give, this Speaking of that... The tow of mutual praise, the tongue we ask in Is but a soul of callous salt, to understand a matter That came, and with a loving precognition, we are the spirit to win A hat of conscience The truth in a lingering hope, the total of unity in a breeze We meant, we sent to an angel, for hands of presence And the miracle of a kindness that liberated even life's dreams
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Aug 31, 2022
Aug 31, 2022 at 1:36 PM UTC
Wouldn't You? Isn't Love Older Than Death...
President **** A massive old grump Talks like a garbage dump. Throws the country into a slump. Has no heart to go thump. Gave racism a big jump. Gathered fascists into a clump. Now we all have to **** He should be inconsequential As he has no credentials. Nothing presidential. Statesmanship? Purely residential. He’s mostly pestilential. No morals evidential. Facts ruled non-essential To mindless millennials. Suddenly he has at hand The highest office in the land. Confetti and a brass band. No ceremony is too grand. The laws he doesn’t understand With money ostentatiously fanned He showed he had the winning hand But still can’t spell words like ampersand. Now we’ve made him king of all Among villains he will stand tall. We should give Ghostbusters a call. This **** has us against a wall. A wall to be built that will surely fall But for now he is having a ball With American bigots in full thrall, Their white God has heard their call.
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Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
ORANGE JULIUS CAESAR
Is it a new beginning? Or a continuing end? Inescapably facing fears. The unknown. The known. Blending together. A monster ready to attack. Alone. Be ready for the battle. An evidential continuance. The never ending cycle. No time to run. A path to the unseen and unexplored. Forever dark and dreary. Nothing comes alive. An implanted memory. Stuck in your brain. Fantasies continue to collide and conquer. Don't think. You'll lose.
0
Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 8:44 AM UTC
Spin
Encorporated owning entities align, to face this pesky point perceived as cause to effects usually affectionately sought as joy… little boy and girl joy, sleeping under shaggy old man frowning face, sagging, not frowning… second thinking ellipticals and tri-punctual ellipses… Threes of reality, see, you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form. **** as dust, proof as stars expand and we assume some part of us, must survive, someday. So finished, so finally past all reasons why not, now cause feeling, the expression, words spoken from this wheeling center to the rim, pointing away, reminding me of a galaxy recently observed, relayed to me by way of useful magic from a mathematically fixed position on the elliptical orbit edge a million miles away. A thousand paces, left to left, left right left, a thousand thousand thousand pace miles away, looking into the outer darkness between our childhood starry heaven Sun and moon and stars. And us as dust. Mere thought in formation, you and us. Threes of reality, see, you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form. **** as dust, swirling sun-size motes, truth evidential signal proof old stars expand and we assume some part of us, must survive the inevitable mortal fact someday. Nevermind, give the end this point to stand on, and watch it pop. Proof, uno mas, the point of any thing pierces every thing. We live in our inherited wind, with a will to wind the clocks that twist the threads and change the angles of reflection, to arrange blue skies here, today.
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Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 2:27 PM UTC
Shifting blue, magically
Encorporated owning entities align, to face this pesky point perceived as cause to effects usually affectionately sought as joy… little boy and girl joy, sleeping under shaggy old man frowning face, sagging, not frowning… second thinking ellipticals and tri-punctual ellipses… Threes of reality, see, you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form. **** as dust, proof as stars expand and we assume some part of us, must survive, someday. So finished, so finally past all reasons why not, now cause feeling, the expression, words spoken from this wheeling center to the rim, pointing away, reminding me of a galaxy recently observed, relayed to me by way of useful magic from a mathematically fixed position on the elliptical orbit edge a million miles away. A thousand paces, left to left, left right left, a thousand thousand thousand pace miles away, looking into the outer darkness between our childhood starry heaven Sun and moon and stars. And us as dust. Mere thought in formation, you and us. Threes of reality, see, you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form. **** as dust, swirling sun-size motes, truth evidential signal proof old stars expand and we assume some part of us, must survive the inevitable mortal fact someday. Nevermind, give the end this point to stand on, and watch it pop. Proof, uno mas, the point of any thing pierces every thing. We live in our inherited wind, with a will to wind the clocks that twist the threads and change the angles of reflection, to arrange blue skies here, today.
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44
I've never really belived in love, well not being proposed to with, a ring and white dove i mean how can something so nice turn your fragile heart to ice how can you be so certain yet have no evidential facts mabye i'm just shallow but i'd rather have stacks stacks of money here and there as i know i do not love it but it fills a hole which lays bare most people would argue but i do not care i am not heartless nor try to dare but i know that the place where something should be, there needs to be fuflied  by one thing, anything, everything...
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
bad type of love
Blurting disrespecters of the finer things of life, Mothers chase their children in dispair, Disrepair of ourn wrongs and rights, Fitful monguls, Beasts of Hades grave, Dance the electrobeat timekeeper of lonely streets , I've seen for marveled caves!!!! Taketh away all disconvert, Open the quaint parlors, Where thy cherishing is bountiful, Plentiful to all and any other!!! A configuration of minds far and close alike, Where childhood ceases memory!!! Cells make enemies of evidential ruin!!!!! Residential pull ins boisterous, Signs hold high with all sit ins!!! Factitious feeling's hold innumerable!!!! Inconceivably mounted, Planted in like all thine rest!!!
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
commentary, shut down palace
You lead a life which happens to be fallacious You live inside your head and happen to never travel far from it In fact, you praise the open road and travel, still you sit relapsing on obscure memories that only ever bring you to the borders of insanity No one could have dreamed this up but yourself The world continues to rival and thrive and wallow and rise from malign characters and sensibilities Or that so you think All you ever happen to do is not much but Drive your self dry in misprinted thoughts and distract yourself from the evidential truth Post-parched, you continue to further down a path which is only going to crackdown upon your world of disinfected affairs Soon, will the sooted streets that chafed your unworn boots collude And all that was ever known, even if it was but the faintest of an understanding as to how this time in space truly functions, Will soon perish in sanctuary Soon will contemporaries all alike Recede with tides anew Soon will it onset the primitivism Locked behind plywood doors Soon will you know unfortunate Tribulations beyond recovery Soon will you be segregated from Yourself, indeed Indefinite suspension will bestow a harrowing animation that will find Itself repeating until you finally cross the aforementioned border without any luck Of returning home to the sheer bliss that Was only good to you in youth Fair enough in the last years adolescence But unforgiving come the dawn of manhood And soon on
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Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 6:56 AM UTC
Idenfinite Suspension
I’m the ******* the malevolent **** That which knew trust equates terrible tricks. A sinful smile, a damning demeanor, I am the vines that voraciously bind, while my thorns poke and **** like perversive ****** cancerous clarity, a malignant mind, tell me, which thoughts you wish to rewind, for I remember a time when lies were dry and the only crime I committed was to satisfy an inherent inner desire to change my pre-determined life. it is only when I tried to apply my methods that suddenly, your preconceived notion of I was held in strife. Fear not, this isn’t the first time my shoulders held such weight. Your assumptive comments that I inadvertently helped to generate, is nothing more than child’s play I don’t hesitate to tolerate. Give me your anger, let loose your pain. it’ll sustain that evidential feeling of empowerment, proof that your wounds wouldn’t bleed in vain. Tell me, could you deem my actions as far as inhumane, or was it merely that I, wanted to work on my personal campaign.
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Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
One-sided Coin
Define to dismay, engage to connect. Sight of seen, perception transformed. What seems cold to the touch has disappeared. Displaced? Replaced? We will have to wait. Move to change but with no fire to burn away the webs and dust. Rotting, clotting. Critter ridden cavity sinking to the ground with no discovered bottom. Light and dark, statements of intent. A want still bare yet confused of purpose. Moves to passion and inevitable love. Evidential love. Grasped by the throat, no letting go. Feared focus, not little to show. Hope instilled, a time and a time goes on. As if waves of the same storm keep pounding. Repeating rescue, over and over and there will be an end.
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Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
Grasped
It was like a scary dream Childish fear brought to the surface, Flush faced, wide eyed, the unfair advantage, still yet smoking and dripping in evidential residue. The river singing it’s roaring song Still the same. Up above, the birds still perched, Viewing the slaughter from above, with A sort of grateful unexceptionalism. How the world could continue While this occurs, answered only with boredom and indifference. And when the flies began to gather, The foresting neighbors began to collect, only then was left, The fur still warm. Horns the size of trees, yet Gentle and innocent like a child’s swing. Now sentenced to remain in the limbo, the air, neither moving forwards or back, then gone. Only the body remains, Unforeseen potential wasted with your intent.
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May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 3:11 AM UTC
Moose