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"evinced" poems
Discoboli of African poetry has now sparked above aphasia The aphasic silence today breaks eardrums with cacophony Of the world audience in the by standing duty of workshop tubes, Executing poetic experiment on the origin of **** poeticus To link the archaic baboonish proteins to the black chimpanzee Cradling African man, the sire of all and their poetry. That when the Chimpanzee blood we poured Into the African veins of vena cava and aorta, Feeding the heart with viscosity of nutrition, And the Chimpanzee blood fell into deadly Tomperousness like Shakespearean impetuosity Once seen in Romeo and Juliet, giving timely Birth To untimely half the yellow Sun That juxtaposed planet of poetry Behind the star of tribe as a priority Condemning to stark oblivion all the fated, in full uniform of tribal dimunitions, or mimesis. Ever predated on when tribes form nations. A time to try the chimpanzee blood in the veins Of white humanity, battling cynosure Historically evinced in Antony and his father, Or Tybalt and Mercurial of mercutio, Or Macbeth and counterparts Or Hamlet the Danish and the inheritors of his mother, As the white blood cells of the white blood, Militantly attack the white corpuscles Of the misfortunate chimpanzee, Converting the later into A chewer of misfortune.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
CHIMPANZEE BLOOD INSIDE AFRICAN VEINES
There are some qualities—some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is made A type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade. There is a twofold Silence—sea and shore— Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places, Newly with grass o’ergrown; some solemn graces, Some human memories and tearful lore, Render him terrorless: his name’s “No More.” He is the corporate Silence: dread him not! No power hath he of evil in himself; But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!) Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf, That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod No foot of man), commend thyself to God!
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5.5k
Silence
5? 6? 7? (can’t be certain when exactly) 14. 17. 18. He told me that it was okay. Some will flinch at the touch. Some will go into a daze. Some - I - will crave the touch of strangers, and many at that, to replace those days. He told me that I was special. I became careless and reckless with love on accommodation sheets. While I mistaken their meticulously placed words for love that I thought was finally peace. He told me that it wouldn’t hurt. It’s 2:52am and my timeline is flooded with girls and trials and underwears passed around in court as if it mattered for the verdict. The bags around my eyes are flooded with tears of anger and hatred as if to beg for some kind of justice. They told me that I should be flattered. But the thing is we haven’t been okay since. It did hurt but we still needed ******* evidence. We were already special before they took away our innocence. And now all we can do is get angry and hurt and wince at the stories like ours that social media has evinced. We hope to god our daughters will never have a jury to convince.
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Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:19 PM UTC
For her.
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Heliophilia
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
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27
The tortoise has began To sniff aloud impatiently, Causing the *** full of Palm-wine to burst into flames, But the bat can only Think of himself as a bird, Let the yam tendril Grow rapidly in this season, For this matey idea Engenders glowing nightmares, Now know this, The sacrifices of palm-wine Cannot be substituted with water, For your departure has caused Me to sleep with the magic owl, Oh yes, hear the sparrow Singing your conventional song, Listen dear, listen! Listen and quicken the precious Beads on your convex hips, So that my heavy heart Can behold her boisterousness, Even though good beads Do not speak in public, Indeed, the machete has Fallen on the wrong victim, For I left the chicken undisguised, And the ravenous hawk Took an instinctive care of it, ***** dear, ***** ***** all your pain Into the thirsty calabash, For I have evinced A strong desire to be Reconciled with your love, So, let our imperturbable love Unfold as the implacable day unfolds, Obaahemaa Nyarkowaa, The mother of my heart, Please forgive my dumb insolence, For I acted out of love. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
THE IRONY OF LOVE
Serendipity took over the calendar’s date radiance of the moonlight ever so vivid wind sways ritzily around the grass land Evinced se blissful beam with her every utter I’m all ears, I heed her mellifluous voice jests shared; laughter outpouring As the night goes deeper, our hearts follow abysmally sinking down…down…and down mundane feelings evanesce How we long not for the toll of parting but, the sand of time has emptied to close the curtains we must As we walk to the path of the end farewell words we speak; empty they are not but filled with yearn to see each other once more Her arms wrapped around me passionately...intimately I am in rupture From the other world the white maiden is her charm so endearing, so alluring for us to had met, fate must have closed its eyes
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
Kismet
Initially it was dark, I don't remember what has happened before, Perhaps I am not supposed to, I perceived the rays of light through her dark skin, I evinced it by closing my eyes, I freed my legs and it hit her,she laughed at it, I stole her breath,she didn't complain, I drank the food she had,she relished it, I didn't know that she took all the nutrition on the planet to nurture me, I peed in her,she didn't care a hoot, I experienced what she experienced, She became a conduit of my experience, Then I became the basis of her experience, I had partaken the moments with her Without knowing what she means to me, For the first time I drew my breathe on the planet,I was beside her...crying crying, because of the ecstasy for having seen my source on the planet, For all the things I have done to her,she really loves me like she had never before... She is the mother who is the secondary source of my existence on my planet, I am in the eternal debt to her, If I am in eternal debt to her, Then I realized that how I should be to the source of my mother and the creation of existence, I cannot owe anything to her,I can only bow to her... she is the mother of all the creatures on the planet, So I walk gracefully on the planet,loving every entity on the planet, Because they are the creation of my mother..... If I really love and respect my mother for what she is, I should love and respect every creature on the planet for what they are, Love everyone because that is our quality.....
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Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
FEMININE:AN ODYSSEY THROUGH THE WOMB.
Initially it was dark, I don't remember what has happened before, Perhaps I am not supposed to, I perceived the rays of light through her dark skin, I evinced it by closing my eyes, I freed my legs and it hit her,she laughed at it, I stole her breath,she didn't complain, I drank the food she had,she relished it, I didn't know that she took all the nutrition on the planet to nurture me, I peed in her,she didn't care a hoot, I experienced what she experienced, She became a conduit of my experience, Then I became the basis of her experience, I had partaken the moments with her Without knowing what she means to me, For the first time I drew my breathe on the planet,I was beside her...crying crying, because of the ecstasy for having seen my source on the planet, For all the things I have done to her,she really loves me like she had never before... She is the mother who is the secondary source of my existence on my planet, I am in the eternal debt to her, If I am in eternal debt to her, Then I realized that how I should be to the source of my mother and the creation of existence, I cannot owe anything to her,I can only bow to her... she is the mother of all the creatures on the planet, So I walk gracefully on the planet,loving every entity on the planet, Because they are the creation of my mother..... If I really love and respect my mother for what she is, I should love and respect every creature on the planet for what they are, Love everyone because that is our quality.....
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29
'Twas in the park one day I met a chappie gay; We went behind a bush Where I saw his **** **** And I evinced a shock When he took out his **** (it was of such a size it would have won a prize). Now, so many years have passed How many times we've arsed Each other I don't know, But each time we have a go And watch each other come Up an outsider's *** We know our love is true As we call out "OO! OO! OO!"
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Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC
Edna's GAY Lover
Loyalty, honesty and hard work have been the core of your life. You are my guiding star determination and wisdom infused into my behaviors, restoration of hope, bravery. Your sense of humor has enthralled me since I was a little girl. Your silent tears evinced your vulnerability, the softness of your heart concealed under the strong shell. Your inquisitive mind alongside mum's fostered my own questions. Today we continue to share insightful conversations, disappointments, joy, the intrigue of new adventures. Wherever I go I hold the strength of your spirit along the winding paths of life. Thank you for being my best friend now.
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
To my Dad
He brought us up with dovish love He cautioned us to be serpent wise, He took us to schools each of us In a genuine dream to forestall future misery He fed us well from his meagre earnings, He discriminated not love among the siblings We grew up united in family bond, He made us all to walk tall and proud As sons and daughters of credible father, He taught me in particular to read Mahatma Gandhi, He inspired me with love for Napoleon Bonaparte, He named me Alexander as a nomenclatural ritual To procure spiritualities of charm and intellect, He did us good and indeed we must all agree As evinced in the love he gave to our mother, We saw no fearful stress of threatening estrangement As our mother always clang to us with superior enthusiasm. He only began to feel pain on every swallow, Saliva, other liquids and solid stuffs he painfully swallowed He lost and lost weight on each day as we could do nothing, But his wisdom and sense of humane picked, Phenomenally usual precursor of impending death, He got emaciated and weakling, his feeding decimated, I desperately took him to hospital and surrendered him To a man wearing humongous glasses on his bearded face, The community of that place called him a doctor, He checked my father and came out with a stark tiding; Young man, your father has throat cancer! The barium swallows has indicated all these, There is eminent presence of tumors and carcinoma Known for their foul perpetration of oesophagus cancer, I received this dooms day news with mild trepidation, He was discharged back to his village home He died two days later in his hut, on his marital bed The wooden bed with wick-work of strappings and strings Crafted from stone hard animal hides and skins, And it was Christmas day of December 2000, At three in the afternoon, when my father died Succumbing to death caused by throat cancer.
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
CHRISTMAS IN FUNERAL
He brought us up with dovish love He cautioned us to be serpent wise, He took us to schools each of us In a genuine dream to forestall future misery He fed us well from his meagre earnings, He discriminated not love among the siblings We grew up united in family bond, He made us all to walk tall and proud As sons and daughters of credible father, He taught me in particular to read Mahatma Gandhi, He inspired me with love for Napoleon Bonaparte, He named me Alexander as a nomenclatural ritual To procure spiritualities of charm and intellect, He did us good and indeed we must all agree As evinced in the love he gave to our mother, We saw no fearful stress of threatening estrangement As our mother always clang to us with superior enthusiasm. He only began to feel pain on every swallow, Saliva, other liquids and solid stuffs he painfully swallowed He lost and lost weight on each day as we could do nothing, But his wisdom and sense of humane picked, Phenomenally usual precursor of impending death, He got emaciated and weakling, his feeding decimated, I desperately took him to hospital and surrendered him To a man wearing humongous glasses on his bearded face, The community of that place called him a doctor, He checked my father and came out with a stark tiding; Young man, your father has throat cancer! The barium swallows has indicated all these, There is eminent presence of tumors and carcinoma Known for their foul perpetration of oesophagus cancer, I received this dooms day news with mild trepidation, He was discharged back to his village home He died two days later in his hut, on his marital bed The wooden bed with wick-work of strappings and strings Crafted from stone hard animal hides and skins, And it was Christmas day of December 2000, At three in the afternoon, when my father died Succumbing to death caused by throat cancer.
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39
Light illuminates my dis-entombed thoughts on gilded kite prodding dust patina mellow mote drifts lilt hoping not to puncture the membrane – I run – attempted lift fresh soil turns under foot tread and gait escalate pocked path reverberates my insistence to avoid puncturing Deceleration Halted earthen assault I ****** with machination the aerial apparatus prior to complete stagnation Decrepit deceit eschewed Again – I run – taut paper snap sheet lift weightless message intones in knotted vertebrae, and closed palm my chest lifts in unison diaphragmatic sigh punched hollow rhapsodic finesse privy to atmospheric secret my hand translates the ethereal smooth fluttering undulations oscillating tugs, dives, and slay Calligraphic flourishes echo the linguistic menagerie Byzantine illustrations Pellucid canvas drunk with dye Evinced in muddled thought The ink bleeds down the twine indigo echoes of entombed vein 'neath flesh Translucent pulse haunts taut string furling arc – tensed tissue acrobatic hydrofoil tugs – glides – taunts Ostensible horror conveyed in clenched palm The ether curtly responds Swift redirect Sliced palm Tethered scream evocation cochineal deluge concedes Deep purple liquid clings Congealing - between sodden twine and palm Whispering currents furl saturated line into fresh groove, disturbing the clot The wound bucks as flotsam Relentless onslaught I yield - I release you Your ethereal message tattooed into my palm Some things were ne'er meant to be restrained
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
Calligraphic Prism Lift
Light illuminates my dis-entombed thoughts on gilded kite prodding dust patina mellow mote drifts lilt hoping not to puncture the membrane – I run – attempted lift fresh soil turns under foot tread and gait escalate pocked path reverberates my insistence to avoid puncturing Deceleration Halted earthen assault I ****** with machination the aerial apparatus prior to complete stagnation Decrepit deceit eschewed Again – I run – taut paper snap sheet lift weightless message intones in knotted vertebrae, and closed palm my chest lifts in unison diaphragmatic sigh punched hollow rhapsodic finesse privy to atmospheric secret my hand translates the ethereal smooth fluttering undulations oscillating tugs, dives, and slay Calligraphic flourishes echo the linguistic menagerie Byzantine illustrations Pellucid canvas drunk with dye Evinced in muddled thought The ink bleeds down the twine indigo echoes of entombed vein 'neath flesh Translucent pulse haunts taut string furling arc – tensed tissue acrobatic hydrofoil tugs – glides – taunts Ostensible horror conveyed in clenched palm The ether curtly responds Swift redirect Sliced palm Tethered scream evocation cochineal deluge concedes Deep purple liquid clings Congealing - between sodden twine and palm Whispering currents furl saturated line into fresh groove, disturbing the clot The wound bucks as flotsam Relentless onslaught I yield - I release you Your ethereal message tattooed into my palm Some things were ne'er meant to be restrained
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55
Bowed smirk Arches and looses Into redolent heart Your rogue smile Stained my blouse Lilting membrane into dye Shallow pools rendered deep Inundated And thusly, mottled heart sank Drawing lung chords in Evinced exhale
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
Setting the String
Her look and countenance evinced to me that this Lady was a lonely sunset; Held to her fate - stifled by the thought of static inevitability. Sunset, can't you look, see in front of you? Or are you blinded by your own twilight? If you could hold on, I could show to you That after your sad descent, is sunrise. I hear you say, "Have to hurry down, Yeah - Hurry down Sunset, get dark like wine, won't see - won't find any suffering." But why? Do you think being alone will make it fine? There is no need for you to keep yourself at bay; - no need to shine brilliantly and fade away, simply because you're afraid. So maybe, in time - we will together seek The sun behind the clouds, on rainy days- And thus allowed to let our minds play, I'll show you how your star is unique.
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Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
Sunset
Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late harriet harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells. This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, de lighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly new born prior to being permitted to cradle said infant. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (sub mucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, i watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games. Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility being the pluperfect target, thee oafish goons i.e. enemies all against a once upon a time puny punt able person unfortunately at receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with scathing expletive filled lectures. The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and withdrawing from countless colleges and/or universities. Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer like the edge of night.
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Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF MATTHEW SCOTT HARRIS:
Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late harriet harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells. This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, de lighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly new born prior to being permitted to cradle said infant. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (sub mucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, i watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games. Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility being the pluperfect target, thee oafish goons i.e. enemies all against a once upon a time puny punt able person unfortunately at receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with scathing expletive filled lectures. The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and withdrawing from countless colleges and/or universities. Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer like the edge of night.
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35
A. drone this day empirical from where we were once the we rained from, a high excursion which savvy the drop, weighing in, a fault trying to convince the day when Sun embellished from the ravine of your hand, a catacomb secured by the rolling of your body like a boulder keeping a minute sacred, christened an evinced noon that was your repetitive finding. onto a netted frame caught, dripping out of a felt space in need for graphs to measure from, a well unnamed which presence resembling your body, resounding the fluency of what the physical ascribes an iamb of a crowd inverted, diminishing and inflected in a day's livid sigh housed in a jar that is a mouth words assemble an ikebana willing a delayed color that was a lack. held a device that was a sky or a gleaming face with a high price claiming a solstitial -- when I went to your home it was Saturday all week inside my ribcage chiming worship. plastered to a sheen all is equal underneath equatorial tracing a sphere when I found stroking the innards of a calendar it is November. it is Saturday. B.    he   comes  from    low  wattage this  night's  post    a wonderful polyp    to   begin  a    blight    apparently  so from a cut blackest gutter          carrying an ample   water  virulent              when  taken  in  and   again   in     a  savingslight  of     metamorphosis        climbs   vertical   so  the winged moon                              is    a  black  bird   in   the   blackest        cage /  baltic  a different  fraternity        of    land    with   the    same   pictorial      this   lovely  stillness   calling   it  work    a  flood   could  mean pernicious   is  blood               brewed   from  this climate           it   is   here  past Mandaue hillsides   dreaming                  if place were  rumored  as  same-silent.
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May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC
You embody this
A. drone this day empirical from where we were once the we rained from, a high excursion which savvy the drop, weighing in, a fault trying to convince the day when Sun embellished from the ravine of your hand, a catacomb secured by the rolling of your body like a boulder keeping a minute sacred, christened an evinced noon that was your repetitive finding. onto a netted frame caught, dripping out of a felt space in need for graphs to measure from, a well unnamed which presence resembling your body, resounding the fluency of what the physical ascribes an iamb of a crowd inverted, diminishing and inflected in a day's livid sigh housed in a jar that is a mouth words assemble an ikebana willing a delayed color that was a lack. held a device that was a sky or a gleaming face with a high price claiming a solstitial -- when I went to your home it was Saturday all week inside my ribcage chiming worship. plastered to a sheen all is equal underneath equatorial tracing a sphere when I found stroking the innards of a calendar it is November. it is Saturday. B.    he   comes  from    low  wattage this  night's  post    a wonderful polyp    to   begin  a    blight    apparently  so from a cut blackest gutter          carrying an ample   water  virulent              when  taken  in  and   again   in     a  savingslight  of     metamorphosis        climbs   vertical   so  the winged moon                              is    a  black  bird   in   the   blackest        cage /  baltic  a different  fraternity        of    land    with   the    same   pictorial      this   lovely  stillness   calling   it  work    a  flood   could  mean pernicious   is  blood               brewed   from  this climate           it   is   here  past Mandaue hillsides   dreaming                  if place were  rumored  as  same-silent.
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50
One drop fell down, one followed more Then my count failed, free downpour From two cloudy eyes, tears wishes feet My lone miseries, life's endless beat. On my bay, a sweet sparrow sat Flown from far, but resting at last In his beak a thread, thin long Kept his weight down, started a song . Weary of singing, he looked over wings In such small frame, life joyfully blinks Then I spot his one-legged walk How shameful my moans, how so dark! Oh God, tiny wings evinced glee In his woes, but a king in flee.
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May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 1:38 AM UTC
One-legged Sparrow
our second of two lasses conceived sometimes within a blink the exact moment auguring conception difficult to identify or pinpoint whence seminal liquid ********** from a ******* ***** birth of second daughter thyself and spouse created while immersed in the ****** drink generally occurred during our naked lunch sans primal cop yule la shun, via carousing with amorousness when a seminal dollop of passion circa May 1998 that pregnant verity became definitive when the ultrasound evinced a miniscule glop pronounced by obstetrician and gynecologist with an impending due date yet unpredictable until the wife did evince a swelling abdominal area, an ordinary fate once pregnancy without doubt ascertained both of felt great lee excited at prospect thee eldest would become “big” sister, which less than total devoted attention she would naturally hate upon begetting youngest punim indubitably saw her (Eden) irate yet any jealousy temporarily deferred, offset and thwarted upon the birth of Shana, whose anniversary she exited birth canal when a dearth of being cocooned in the womb suddenly necessitated adjusting to life on Earth when formerly inducing a bulge within the uterine hearth and this papa nearly nineteen years wept tears of joyful delight with a complete set of anatomical features, and gender as the girl found wife excite head, cuz decision asper circumcision, a moot point re difficult conscience fight club and prediction as per average adult height of female progeny, number two found the sight a biologically whipped miracle I held tight.
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Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
Labor Yielded Lustrous Lovely Lass
our second of two lasses conceived sometimes within a blink the exact moment auguring conception difficult to identify or pinpoint whence seminal liquid ********** from a ******* ***** birth of second daughter thyself and spouse created while immersed in the ****** drink generally occurred during our naked lunch sans primal cop yule la shun, via carousing with amorousness when a seminal dollop of passion circa May 1998 that pregnant verity became definitive when the ultrasound evinced a miniscule glop pronounced by obstetrician and gynecologist with an impending due date yet unpredictable until the wife did evince a swelling abdominal area, an ordinary fate once pregnancy without doubt ascertained both of felt great lee excited at prospect thee eldest would become “big” sister, which less than total devoted attention she would naturally hate upon begetting youngest punim indubitably saw her (Eden) irate yet any jealousy temporarily deferred, offset and thwarted upon the birth of Shana, whose anniversary she exited birth canal when a dearth of being cocooned in the womb suddenly necessitated adjusting to life on Earth when formerly inducing a bulge within the uterine hearth and this papa nearly nineteen years wept tears of joyful delight with a complete set of anatomical features, and gender as the girl found wife excite head, cuz decision asper circumcision, a moot point re difficult conscience fight club and prediction as per average adult height of female progeny, number two found the sight a biologically whipped miracle I held tight.
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44
Between the fibril webs, dripping dew crystalline in the glare, Yet yonder betwixt the tendrils a bloom doth loom the undergrowth, Dahlia or ambrosia, neither less evinced, In excess of apples and worms, The beauty unlikeness to petal or fruit, Nor weighed to deflorate by the evergreen. As a stranger to the forest, I've run amok the hillside, And undone the earth with each selfish trudge. I've littered the trail with the thoughts of my most internal singularity and emerged as legion amidst ancestors before. Each lesson ringing true, made never to be undone with failure in pretense.
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
A Semblance of Dysbulia
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem All In The Name Of "Progress" zen a glaring, leering, and twittering left par wren dared to a right (i.e. bribe) corrective punctuation measure slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")" for so many yen, thus see slipped thru my excellent proof reading, when lo and behold consternation, inconsideration, and perturbation I thought to take a page from playbook of Sylvia Plath, and stick my head in the oven but lo, a sardine recipe (though a bit fishy), could be found necessitating cauldron only available for purchase in Turin thus donned with a shrouded cape, aye didst make whoosh, hence, went there and came back and frankly tubby earnest, thence began stir'n a bubbling concoction brew though duration for perfect consistency aye lacked any clue thus, needed to contact Hannibal the cannibal asper what to do in order (I explained) to sever livingsocial, and forever hang my head in shame cuz, accidentally omitting one right parenthesis too few hence, esteemed flawless glory, (sans error free grammarian reputation pitched downward where careless evinced Kamikaze nosedive, where matter of fact gross humiliation instantaneously grew and the only viable option forced me to hew admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent and readily confesses compunction viz, grievously blatant Anglo Saxon Horrifying transgression involving backward curved "C" sin bent a most execrable, incorrigible, and unforgivable literary faux pas incurring major cosmic event stripped of title special Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Upon complying never to err again Matthew Scott Harris since accepted plea bargain accepting sentence resting his chin til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin forever visible to kith and kin.
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Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
Argh! An Errant Stray Left Parenthesis!
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem All In The Name Of "Progress" zen a glaring, leering, and twittering left par wren dared to a right (i.e. bribe) corrective punctuation measure slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")" for so many yen, thus see slipped thru my excellent proof reading, when lo and behold consternation, inconsideration, and perturbation I thought to take a page from playbook of Sylvia Plath, and stick my head in the oven but lo, a sardine recipe (though a bit fishy), could be found necessitating cauldron only available for purchase in Turin thus donned with a shrouded cape, aye didst make whoosh, hence, went there and came back and frankly tubby earnest, thence began stir'n a bubbling concoction brew though duration for perfect consistency aye lacked any clue thus, needed to contact Hannibal the cannibal asper what to do in order (I explained) to sever livingsocial, and forever hang my head in shame cuz, accidentally omitting one right parenthesis too few hence, esteemed flawless glory, (sans error free grammarian reputation pitched downward where careless evinced Kamikaze nosedive, where matter of fact gross humiliation instantaneously grew and the only viable option forced me to hew admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent and readily confesses compunction viz, grievously blatant Anglo Saxon Horrifying transgression involving backward curved "C" sin bent a most execrable, incorrigible, and unforgivable literary faux pas incurring major cosmic event stripped of title special Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Upon complying never to err again Matthew Scott Harris since accepted plea bargain accepting sentence resting his chin til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin forever visible to kith and kin.
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63
I search for myself within you Offering fear founded issues Love must be embraced before shared Through self-hatred I’ve evinced Selfish care
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Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 11:23 AM UTC
Finding me in you
Walking on a street's path A distance as far as I've been back Lessons and retrospects carried in an heavy backpack Streets lights off standing tall under the sky' s dark Dark as panther in a zoo or a park O' peace of sight Rare are you in my days Endangered sanity at night's plight The glory of day uplifted and dropped in an emigrant's flight Walk on keep A voice passes me by In dark knowledge of my start Not even enfants it has been But grown exceedingly pass my reach Still walking yet destination awaits me Legs crumbling head unarmed Growing older yet they passed me Ha' you famous of sight haven't you grown Said as they were inferior now superior I am as they were before Lights inplaced at my backpack Never knew I these lights is a collection mindless to my knowing The lights of conquest and triumph which beam is essential Lightings of value and dignity exuding inevitable shine Lights of blunder rays so repeat them not All these lights never knew I The inscrutability invades my mind Evoked my soul to it's captivity O' spirit of exigency,deceit, corruption and unpatriotism Can't thy be exhumed Control my mind ignore the lights pack Walking through out the darkness you caused Growing older moving backwards Retrospects of who I was Doctor now patient Teacher now student Long gone host now parasite Too late to back Extremely damaged to front Can't just find a way through this darkness Old lady of Africa Treasured by history Record as a routine I've broken Adrift till I've broken my self About to none That's for the others impeccably Imperiled by a spirit in mind Collecting the strings yet I play not any Evinced impetuosity mischief set in motion Can't desorb in this modern solvent Peter natural to be seen as such I should be the star that parties with the moon The zephyr that coaxes the tree leaves in mobility Being not the sun that chases the moon away the sky Nor the fire that burns the trees This darkness drives away my delight Impute backwardness Lest I think those lights I ignored years long This journey seems impervious This dire adventure is far from the abyss of remedy
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Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
Impervious Journey
Walking on a street's path A distance as far as I've been back Lessons and retrospects carried in an heavy backpack Streets lights off standing tall under the sky' s dark Dark as panther in a zoo or a park O' peace of sight Rare are you in my days Endangered sanity at night's plight The glory of day uplifted and dropped in an emigrant's flight Walk on keep A voice passes me by In dark knowledge of my start Not even enfants it has been But grown exceedingly pass my reach Still walking yet destination awaits me Legs crumbling head unarmed Growing older yet they passed me Ha' you famous of sight haven't you grown Said as they were inferior now superior I am as they were before Lights inplaced at my backpack Never knew I these lights is a collection mindless to my knowing The lights of conquest and triumph which beam is essential Lightings of value and dignity exuding inevitable shine Lights of blunder rays so repeat them not All these lights never knew I The inscrutability invades my mind Evoked my soul to it's captivity O' spirit of exigency,deceit, corruption and unpatriotism Can't thy be exhumed Control my mind ignore the lights pack Walking through out the darkness you caused Growing older moving backwards Retrospects of who I was Doctor now patient Teacher now student Long gone host now parasite Too late to back Extremely damaged to front Can't just find a way through this darkness Old lady of Africa Treasured by history Record as a routine I've broken Adrift till I've broken my self About to none That's for the others impeccably Imperiled by a spirit in mind Collecting the strings yet I play not any Evinced impetuosity mischief set in motion Can't desorb in this modern solvent Peter natural to be seen as such I should be the star that parties with the moon The zephyr that coaxes the tree leaves in mobility Being not the sun that chases the moon away the sky Nor the fire that burns the trees This darkness drives away my delight Impute backwardness Lest I think those lights I ignored years long This journey seems impervious This dire adventure is far from the abyss of remedy
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61
“Yes”, she said. Braced fast, I stood. My face did then bloom red And I trembled ‘neath my hood. Reeling free of constraint, Rapt in shock, my mind Searched for words valiant, An ardent echo to find. But shaking visibly o’ertook me And nonchalance took flight. My devoted flame took pity, Her empathetic smile came to light. “My love”, she whispered. “My heart!” I urged. Our hot blood blistered As our fevered limbs merged.   The dark room spun around us And moon-lit fairies showed their wings! Our frenzied dance evinced no locus In the celebration this night brings! The vast distance of time I endured Until this impetuous embrace befell Has been unbearable and belabored; All my hope had drained to Hell. But all at once my life was liberated, For tumbling down came her love! I never believed I would feel this exhilarated, Joined as one to her heart from above.
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Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC
Yes She Said
Twenty two years ago      December twenty second, two thousand eighteen "star student" born this papa (and most      likely thee birth mother)      initially felt ecstatic, dramatic (yes frenetic), and careworn as freshly minted parents,      but gifted with a daughter,      whose existence far more precious than any Earthborn rare widgets, gewgaws, gems, et cetera, despite      evoking unsolicited, unpleasant, and unmanageable forlorn communication "dirt poor"      living (at least ten years     of wretchedness at 1148 Greentree Lane) unable to toot our horn, cuz unbearable, undesirable,      unforgettable, et cetera,      and manifold challenged, when beloved Shana Punim evinced inborn developmental delay,      (which severe electric      cool aid acid test      patience of this father),      much more difficult than playing krummhorn, now after tendering the trials      and tribulations, an      amalgamation of      poignant affects,      whereat your      permanent presence... (must never NOT precede mine), cuz..., I would definitely mourn, your absence, thus felt the timely      opportunity to dash off      a birthday poem to you      in tandem with sharing,      (while comfortably numb and figuratively licking war torn psychological wombs) - torn and ripped, queued, peppered natty psyche pockmarked with scorn from self, (and those lives, this dada immediately impacted) particularly your person roar'n with cumulative anger toward      this insightful fellow, (who claims to know what thee feel toward me), especially when **** hours of valuable      time, now caught (say, eh...approximately, fraught upon the half life of rare Earth element Eden), not just strictly naught heard thru the grapevine,      but forcing Math (hew)      analysis, via meditation, poetry      writing therapy, et cetera. -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     Hence...I apologize, asper unasked for pain wrought thee, sans being unemployed, demeaning "mother Abby," bumbling, horrid house keeper (Hagrid himself, would turn down invitation), plus Facebook fiasco, imbroglio, and loco motive - complicit in behavior -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     - comparable to ********* yet please let me conclude by admitting total lack of wherewithal. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!
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Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
E_ L_ H_ – I Praise
Twenty two years ago      December twenty second, two thousand eighteen "star student" born this papa (and most      likely thee birth mother)      initially felt ecstatic, dramatic (yes frenetic), and careworn as freshly minted parents,      but gifted with a daughter,      whose existence far more precious than any Earthborn rare widgets, gewgaws, gems, et cetera, despite      evoking unsolicited, unpleasant, and unmanageable forlorn communication "dirt poor"      living (at least ten years     of wretchedness at 1148 Greentree Lane) unable to toot our horn, cuz unbearable, undesirable,      unforgettable, et cetera,      and manifold challenged, when beloved Shana Punim evinced inborn developmental delay,      (which severe electric      cool aid acid test      patience of this father),      much more difficult than playing krummhorn, now after tendering the trials      and tribulations, an      amalgamation of      poignant affects,      whereat your      permanent presence... (must never NOT precede mine), cuz..., I would definitely mourn, your absence, thus felt the timely      opportunity to dash off      a birthday poem to you      in tandem with sharing,      (while comfortably numb and figuratively licking war torn psychological wombs) - torn and ripped, queued, peppered natty psyche pockmarked with scorn from self, (and those lives, this dada immediately impacted) particularly your person roar'n with cumulative anger toward      this insightful fellow, (who claims to know what thee feel toward me), especially when **** hours of valuable      time, now caught (say, eh...approximately, fraught upon the half life of rare Earth element Eden), not just strictly naught heard thru the grapevine,      but forcing Math (hew)      analysis, via meditation, poetry      writing therapy, et cetera. -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     Hence...I apologize, asper unasked for pain wrought thee, sans being unemployed, demeaning "mother Abby," bumbling, horrid house keeper (Hagrid himself, would turn down invitation), plus Facebook fiasco, imbroglio, and loco motive - complicit in behavior -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     - comparable to ********* yet please let me conclude by admitting total lack of wherewithal. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!
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89
Of Real Or "FAKE" Memories Earlier today...upon setting feet out a side door, a refreshingly cool rain washed away present woes, and ushered auld lang syne, sans mine earlier childhood quatrain such as the incy wincy spider sung (way out of tune) by my then young mum, yet clear as day she evinced unabashed loved simply and plain, which cherished rarely jogged memory main, lee lost in sigh burr space, perhaps arising some where (over the rainbow...) in toto within my midbrain ah...methought, how perfectly spontaneous I spunkily danced down Drury (er rather Lantern) Lane sudden recollection of real or feigned salad days of yore blessedly carefree, innocently naive, which elapsed many a score years ago poked thru consciousness so vividly, despite at nineteen and four tee Earth's orbitz ago, hence summarily explore thyself as an adorable boy around 'pon the onset of incipient curiosity (i.e. preschooler), aye did unexpectedly bound forth like a midsize dog ecstatic to greet her/his master, the latter played and clowned with four legged woman's/ man's "best friend," where non verbal communication did expound volumes of unconditional mutually symphonic, sympathetic, and symbiotic couched make believe buddies never abandoned me always around:
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
Tis A Mystery, The Inexplicable Recall...
----------- SYTF E War stories, secret fifty years, then Trumps team added enough for the names on the payroll to die. Here we go again, let's visit 1892 Nietzsche, let's recollect the opera of it all, We had characters, and complexes, all from these sprachen mit Zararthustra, unglaublichkeit kein weg, wir wissen, es tut mir leid. - we are barred from war study. Dulles Brothers, Wick trimmer John, ***** war to fix the judges. So, intention to twist a human hair. - in my judgement, its allowed Frizzy splitting, dry broken ends, caught there in the web, seen fly's eyes close, that proves you, your code, at attention, present in the scene, we know the drill, or so we have been led to believe. Taught, trained, gently fed a fear, of being selectable by the art intuit init running on sense if ever was a muse used to tell time to seem sequential, after the hallelujah, in the ritual mass, - peace on earth- heard under stars message to the many from the few, though the many be accused of shame from ignorance evinced in use of tools, IT as a calling is new, AI invented it, MyTechPeople used it, the idea that other people sell their know how, using code, to identify the attention deficit disorder undermined by primordial old time rights of record rising on yes, as the one word answer./ Used at instants, invisible at freeway speeds.
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Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 11:31 PM UTC
- A continuation of a thought -you may think