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"evolutions" poems
How this could have happened I will never hear again but it happened all the same exactly this way. I was walking in Prairie Creek surrounded by my soon to become silent companions when I noticed events so strange. I dug my feet into the dirt they soon dissolved and roots were sprung a nervous system extending into the soil, oh the sounds the smells I felt. Where my skin once was bark began to emerge my fingers became tiny clones of myself each speaking different tongues I could not comprehend I made out these words "our time has begun. " I became a Buddha on the road a three quarter smile on my lips as my body grew towards the sun a thousand years was now mine and to it I did succumb. I watched the generations pass Christs come and go and come again. It all meant nothing to me at all as long as I have this fog that nourishes me and creatures living in the canopy. I stand at peace for centuries a thousand years and still my life is a five minute dream filled with all possible intensity and former attachments as the impermanence of the illusion of time was plain to see as human lives whirlwinds of experience dust devils blew by me. Lightening and fires burned me but I survived. Now that I stand in this silence lost in the meditation of dreams a solitary tree the last standing a brand new species born of evolutions breeding runs on the ground dancing on my grave I remember that first day the beginning of my thousand year awakenings I think it was only yesterday.
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
On Becoming A Redwood
How this could have happened I will never hear again but it happened all the same exactly this way. I was walking in Prairie Creek surrounded by my soon to become silent companions when I noticed events so strange. I dug my feet into the dirt they soon dissolved and roots were sprung a nervous system extending into the soil, oh the sounds the smells I felt. Where my skin once was bark began to emerge my fingers became tiny clones of myself each speaking different tongues I could not comprehend I made out these words "our time has begun. " I became a Buddha on the road a three quarter smile on my lips as my body grew towards the sun a thousand years was now mine and to it I did succumb. I watched the generations pass Christs come and go and come again. It all meant nothing to me at all as long as I have this fog that nourishes me and creatures living in the canopy. I stand at peace for centuries a thousand years and still my life is a five minute dream filled with all possible intensity and former attachments as the impermanence of the illusion of time was plain to see as human lives whirlwinds of experience dust devils blew by me. Lightening and fires burned me but I survived. Now that I stand in this silence lost in the meditation of dreams a solitary tree the last standing a brand new species born of evolutions breeding runs on the ground dancing on my grave I remember that first day the beginning of my thousand year awakenings I think it was only yesterday.
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84
I am the oppressed, and you are the master, holding me since birth, as I am evolutions disaster. I have a tendency for violent outbreaks, created by institutionalized racism, they say be "normal", there are choices... yet within our beliefs there is a chasm. For I was born without an option, and went where I was led, my only freedom was my adoption, into the gangs for whom I bled. While society cites me as a statistic, I am just an average man, pushed to the point of being sadistic, because for the blacks there is no plan. Do not group me with the heathens, or make me out to be a sociopath, I went where I saw life's beacons, and as a child I was caught in that wrath. Someday this will all end, that day that I will be dead, revolution will strike society, like a bullet in the head.
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
Bullet in the head.
I found my way back back, to that place I go to When I cry When I sleep When I die High in the atmosphere into worlds. I have my own hide away no one can find me. I've watched the universe spin slowly. Change from dark to light, night to day, night to day. I've seen caves and creatures roam the planet. Lush green trees ripped from their homes. Giant animals fall to the ground. I've called upon the archangels for protection from the darkness that has covered the earth. I've fallen out of my hiding place and landed in the darkest of nights. Sun that seems too bright. Nights that seem too long. Haunted by words that will never never ever fade. But yet, I've always return to my spot in the sky, to watch the evolutions, revelations, the nightmares and the miracles. I've watched our Mother Father God destroy and rebuild. Destroy and rebuild. I've seen the most beautiful things. Even the city lights look like fireflies illuminating the planet from here. I've found beauty in everything. Every word. Every taste, smell, touch. Every third eyed sensation. I am not omnipresent. Only... present. I glow a soft shade of purples and blues. Indigos. All shades, with a white crown upon my head pouring out the purest of white lights. My head tilts back as I pray for salvation on earth. Peace among men. An awakening. The earth glitters with hope. I sit and wonder as I mindlessly play with the token around my neck. A ring for prayer. A reminder of greatness. I gently allow myself to fall, sink slowly through the atmosphere like I am drowning during a sunset. Tragic, yet beautiful. Again, down, down. My wings know not to save me.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
indigo//angel.moore
I found my way back back, to that place I go to When I cry When I sleep When I die High in the atmosphere into worlds. I have my own hide away no one can find me. I've watched the universe spin slowly. Change from dark to light, night to day, night to day. I've seen caves and creatures roam the planet. Lush green trees ripped from their homes. Giant animals fall to the ground. I've called upon the archangels for protection from the darkness that has covered the earth. I've fallen out of my hiding place and landed in the darkest of nights. Sun that seems too bright. Nights that seem too long. Haunted by words that will never never ever fade. But yet, I've always return to my spot in the sky, to watch the evolutions, revelations, the nightmares and the miracles. I've watched our Mother Father God destroy and rebuild. Destroy and rebuild. I've seen the most beautiful things. Even the city lights look like fireflies illuminating the planet from here. I've found beauty in everything. Every word. Every taste, smell, touch. Every third eyed sensation. I am not omnipresent. Only... present. I glow a soft shade of purples and blues. Indigos. All shades, with a white crown upon my head pouring out the purest of white lights. My head tilts back as I pray for salvation on earth. Peace among men. An awakening. The earth glitters with hope. I sit and wonder as I mindlessly play with the token around my neck. A ring for prayer. A reminder of greatness. I gently allow myself to fall, sink slowly through the atmosphere like I am drowning during a sunset. Tragic, yet beautiful. Again, down, down. My wings know not to save me.
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71
Hot gold runs a winding stream on the inside of a green bowl. Yellow trickles in a fan figure, scatters a line of skirmishes, spreads a chorus of dancing girls, performs blazing ochre evolutions, gathers the whole show into one stream, forgets the past and rolls on. The sea-mist green of the bowl's bottom is a dark throat of sky crossed by quarreling forks of umber and ochre and yellow changing faces.
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2.5k
Crucible
Icicle heart I can't tell if it's cold outside Or I'm froze inside. Icicle heart, melts to raise the sea levels, Then we drown in tears, defeated by fears, we see Devils, The water is clear, but crimson cold. Your cool calm and collected, so level headed, After all this years, It's the apathy you feel that makes fools of us. Now there's swimming pools of regrets, when Icicles melt. A cologne of shame, pungent in the air, carried by breath, to pollenate the common class, this Icicle heart, can never last at least without changing state as the landscape moves like a bad mood, but the worst has passed, and we backtrack. Scrap that, Take me back to the start, Dinosaurs, reptilian nature, evolutions mistake, Are you down for me and My icicle heart, melts into the stream, and down the river it seems an estuary divides us, as we reach the sea, impeach beliefs, and the buoyant keeps my icicle heart, afloat, I hope you feel me. and however it may seem, you were nothing less than a dream, nothing more than a drop in the ocean to me, and my cold cold icicle heart.
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Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
icicle heart
A God all alone in empty total dark, had thought to start up creations spark. To build upon that black empty view, all those things his thoughts made anew. Where and with what should he begin, with only darkness there to keep it in? Mechanics drawn from rigid Physics laws, so time would carry out evolutions chores. Only God alone right there at the start, hydrogen made as if from some godly **** Clouds that swirled and time then congealed, until mass and gravity his plan then revealed. Ignition of that first ball of gaseous light, that brought an ending to the longest night. Deep in that furnace new things were made, a realm where matter and time both played. Changing substance and the shape and form, by the passing of time and by cosmic storm. All elements to make every building block, of galaxies, liquids, gases and every kind of rock. So the plan moves on at his chosen godly pace, filling all of time and all corners of outer-space. Ever changing all things into something more, God all alone knowing what its all been for.
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Sep 19, 2021
Sep 19, 2021 at 3:44 AM UTC
Echoes
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal. Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies. I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events. These beings possess no artificiality. Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria. Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal. There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust. Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control. Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency. Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline. Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision. My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation. Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate. Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign. Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time. I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew. The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought. Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation. I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence. The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Piece XXXI
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal. Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies. I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events. These beings possess no artificiality. Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria. Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal. There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust. Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control. Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency. Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline. Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision. My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation. Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate. Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign. Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time. I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew. The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought. Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation. I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence. The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
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20
Perfect imperfections, Drawn away frustrations. Pondering sweet emotions, Simplicity through dedications. Discovery of new evolutions. Washed away night's illusions, Drifted away by happy motions Pride through inspirations And self identity through aspirations. Tears have gone to extinction. And I have become perfect through imperfection!
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Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
[Just write-rhyme]
that stallion munching the green lazily across his field- eyes as big as headlights- dark with secrets- of horses worlds- friends with a Shetland Pony- and all manner of birds- unafraid through evolutions taught lesson of friend or foe- sedate long legs made for- flight or fight he could- take on any man.
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
stallion
Keith W Fletcher July 28 2016 In spirit I'm  the Dark Horse Fading into shadows of doubts Optimism rides upon my back Yet it's not enough to turn me From those obscure routes Where I too often find my solace In the echoes of my silent world As I run from my own hoofbeats That I have been chasing   None hears  the distant thud From far below those lofty heights Where I so often find Myself  being hurled In absence I'm an empty space Where once a possibility had existed Like those gentle summer winds That moves along  unnoticed Until dust or debris swirls around Acknowledging the air That in my passing through... ... has just been twisted In memory I am a faded color Where no reference of what was... .....allows comparison So no photograph Or artistic rendering Can ever capture the true identity... ....Of a shadow lost in shadow Once the fading out has begun In legacy I left a trail Well worn and beaten wide As I never took The straight and narrow I've always  preferred... ... to move from side to side So  please...do not illuminate The beloved shadows zones Along the trail For  these are the places to take more time Feeling the presence of all the ghosts Those reminders of my dead dreams I've left along there To haunt me Reminders of those times I fail But that cliff edge Where I  so often  hurled myself To crash below In muted And too often painful Solitaire Evolutions That step off spot Where my tracks end That is mine and mine alone Just as is ... That Hallowed Ground... ... where  I land And where I lay... until I stand To dust myself off.. or weep So should I choose to curse my soul I want no one else around
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 4:48 AM UTC
The Echos of my silent world
Keith W Fletcher July 28 2016 In spirit I'm  the Dark Horse Fading into shadows of doubts Optimism rides upon my back Yet it's not enough to turn me From those obscure routes Where I too often find my solace In the echoes of my silent world As I run from my own hoofbeats That I have been chasing   None hears  the distant thud From far below those lofty heights Where I so often find Myself  being hurled In absence I'm an empty space Where once a possibility had existed Like those gentle summer winds That moves along  unnoticed Until dust or debris swirls around Acknowledging the air That in my passing through... ... has just been twisted In memory I am a faded color Where no reference of what was... .....allows comparison So no photograph Or artistic rendering Can ever capture the true identity... ....Of a shadow lost in shadow Once the fading out has begun In legacy I left a trail Well worn and beaten wide As I never took The straight and narrow I've always  preferred... ... to move from side to side So  please...do not illuminate The beloved shadows zones Along the trail For  these are the places to take more time Feeling the presence of all the ghosts Those reminders of my dead dreams I've left along there To haunt me Reminders of those times I fail But that cliff edge Where I  so often  hurled myself To crash below In muted And too often painful Solitaire Evolutions That step off spot Where my tracks end That is mine and mine alone Just as is ... That Hallowed Ground... ... where  I land And where I lay... until I stand To dust myself off.. or weep So should I choose to curse my soul I want no one else around
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60
*Fairytale Evolutions, Terminating Digital Mutations, Simulated Sensations, Transcendent Revolutions, Hybrid Generations, Altering Stagnant Amplifications, Shape Shifting Constellations, Sterilizing Implications, Eliciting Blissful Animations, Decoding Kaleidoscopic Flirtations, Fabricating Holographic Dimensions, Reflecting Labyrinth Ramifications, Transgressional Diversifications, Empathetic Extortion, Serene Distortion, Subversive Contortion, Forging Conceptual Inoculations Violating Illusionary Variations, Incarnating Prototype Deviations, Radiating Subtle Speculations, Catalyzing Crystallized Civilizations. -01:09AM*
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
Prelude 3.0
mind drifts within evolutions pull; enclosing thoughts in earth's many wonders, causing brainstormed emotions into ideative air pockets; casting kaleidoscopic prisms to realms of life's many gifts as we intellectually ruminate cognitively
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
Cognitively Awakened
My heart is racing skyward Racing against the moon and stars and my Ribcage. Beating everything in its path Catapulting upwards out of my chest Pushing through the atmosphere and Ascending to higher dimensions. My heart is a comet Shooting through space soaring Past planets trapping itself in revolutions Evolutions of life floating about My heart moves through moves Forward moves on. Oh heart! Stay planted stay firm stay rooted inside me! Do not leap to great Heights if you won't take the rest of me Higher too.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
Untitled
hollowed out a vast ravine my vessel is vacant with rooms for lease empty my soul is weary and tired blackened crumbling to ashes in its cage a crater poignant with despair while beasts with crimson claws eat their way inside like the shadow-lands my body carries carasses of past evolutions, and my previous sanguine mask made of paper mache falls apart as icy winds strike, raking sharp fingernails across my skin, marking it read, black, and blue. rooms for rent until july, until life has ended, until the black becomes a champ, capturing the beating of my heart and stilling my insides. there were days of gold - just yesterday, i swear - but they are as coy as spring, always replaced by the inevitable, irrevocable plague of the vicious winds and icy breath of monsters rising from hibernation, taking their rightful place and murdering the light starting to reappear in my eyes.
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
"black, but i used to be golden"
Millennial stones trickling through continuums of space and time, burying regressed evolutions and recycled tin can trauma In lapse, I forgot about the sun and the moon and chills on a pillow-y cloud, the nested bunnies, cozy and dormant, and discarded rotten tomatoes, a bushel in a heap, as feed for desperate flies, eating fruits of some other labour On a chariot of rusted steel, (that click clack chain) I found a place and fell asleep under a shady willow Awoke from ultra-violet sun sparkles dancing through whispering leaves, placing this right-hand in that right-hand that smooths over tired brows and cups dozy dreamy eyes Resting heavy heads on soft hearts, gently rising and falling, inhaling and exhaling breath that                                              O       F                                                     a                             L                                                                                   t                           S like seeds of a cattail, dispersing and grounding in perfect circle... perpetual motion... symbiosis... the only truth that is Present Out from under the shaded canopy, we race down to the beach and under the pier, with splashy waves and guarding gulls where we can laugh and dream in the millennial stones trickling through continuums of space and time
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Floatin' on a Pretty Day
Millennial stones trickling through continuums of space and time, burying regressed evolutions and recycled tin can trauma In lapse, I forgot about the sun and the moon and chills on a pillow-y cloud, the nested bunnies, cozy and dormant, and discarded rotten tomatoes, a bushel in a heap, as feed for desperate flies, eating fruits of some other labour On a chariot of rusted steel, (that click clack chain) I found a place and fell asleep under a shady willow Awoke from ultra-violet sun sparkles dancing through whispering leaves, placing this right-hand in that right-hand that smooths over tired brows and cups dozy dreamy eyes Resting heavy heads on soft hearts, gently rising and falling, inhaling and exhaling breath that                                              O       F                                                     a                             L                                                                                   t                           S like seeds of a cattail, dispersing and grounding in perfect circle... perpetual motion... symbiosis... the only truth that is Present Out from under the shaded canopy, we race down to the beach and under the pier, with splashy waves and guarding gulls where we can laugh and dream in the millennial stones trickling through continuums of space and time
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33
an arcane sculpture of trees evolutions of an umbrella completes the verdant swaying arbor of leaves straining limbs hold branches to please arm to palms and leaf to feet strive to possess a neighbor sweet twisted sprigs move wicked feet knotted legs reach outskirts weave wander free as the forest grows sowing slow the harvest beneath sedate to foster sticks and stones nurturing bluffs of tangled trunks overgrown postures and bent back bones reveal agonies dim gallows mocking mortal remains Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
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Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
BENEATH TREES
------------------------------------------------------------- How long do we stuff our thighs With evolutions lies I watch on as another tower Hits the skies And I'm singing the blues excuse me for what do I know But that your taking the land Stopping seeds to grow so you go And build a supermall So we can continue To stuff our faces like pigs That's evolution We need to create jobs for the economy So therefore we need to eat **** use **** and cause children in poor countries **** because we are so enslaved to this system endoctrined within us Engrained in an empty train Of ******* **** We're a tribe of too many Listening to some rat pack   Who has no clue What to do why not freedom and trust Wipe away the rust That lingers on this falling world . Who am I to know? Of course there's more to it, It's really quite complex I don't know what's next But I think it's time we stop living **** lies Supermalls on the rise And stop the poverty Hello food sovereignty Breathe Heather Breathe.... ...aaaahhhh.... I love you all, Let's do this <3
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
Hack
I will weave words Into a tapestry of fire To set the world alight And I will hide a murderer in the ocean Until the scorched earth is nothing but ash And then I will bring my killer out And put a knife in his hand And I will call myself God. My murderer will populate the earth With deranged solitude For I have saved only him And he is the only one walking the world. And in his madness he will call out to me And ask me to bestow upon him another creature As did the God of the former world. And I will laugh at him And give him a dagger And watch as his crimson blood sinks into the unforgiving ash And disappears without a trace. I will watch as new life forms in his decaying putrid flesh From the bacteria that remained in the air all along And I will smile as it develops As it has done before Through evolutions and stages I’d learned so long ago And this new life will gain a voice And with its simple pure language It will call me God.
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
I Will Call Myself God
Turritopsis dohrnii: A species of jellyfish that can revert back To a sexually immature state when its injured or dying, making it biologically immortal. A jellyfish, Nothing but thickened water Some genetic material Polythene bags and paper glue, Is granted immortality. We, humans The heirs of a billion evolutions, A million grains of life, Crumble like sand castles Scatter like sawdust. The universe taunts, Laugh until your shadow swallows you Your every breath was a thousand last breaths, Puny mortal. **
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Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:43 AM UTC
Jellyfishes and Sandcastles
*Stuck Between Her Echoes & Voices, Drowning In His Drug Induced Choices, Illuminating The Beacons Of His Desolation, By Augmenting His Cerebral Evolutions, Reflexes Cracking Her Color Morale, Initiating A Hearty Battle Royale, Stuck Between His Sense & Sanity, She Kept Searching For His Firmament Of Destiny, Detainee Of His Manic Subversion, She’s A Victim Of A One Sided Version, She Feels Pseudo Experimental, Victim To His Desecrated Addiction Accidental, His Cataclysmic Urges, Triggering Her Into Persistent Anxiety Surges, Claustrophobic Under Hypnosis, He Insurrected Catastrophic Psychosis, She’s Dressed In His Intoxicated Restrains, Wishing She Could Aid Him Refrain. An Unrequited Dreamt Scarred Stain, Unattainable Myth Under Heavy Rain, Looking In His Chemical Eyes, She Desires Consequences Without Lies, Still Sealed Up In His Dreams, Hopes To An Another Realm.*
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Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
Color Morale
Im Lost, and there is no found A hound with no more scent around Am I living to live, or hear to make a sound? Confused I am you see, but you don’t see. We are; lost at sea, both you and me. Why is this world round? All these options; up/down, smile/frown In evolutions I am lost But there is no found. My eyes read and read These leads and leads, make my mind bleed. My soul is trapped, dancing inside of me Fighting to be free. These tracks keep going, there’s no longer a lead As far as I can see, as far as I can see. I once had a God, he left me. I once had a god, It was I that left I didn’t want to believe In great destiny, I wanted misery. How could this be? Bound to, nothing. Getting around to, nothing. What I found? Nothing, yet. Scared of the profound. Terrified. Safe House, I’m a mouse And it’s no wonder I’m not getting the cheese.
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
L O S T
Seventh Grade. I wrote about a kid.. A troubled kid with memories, memories he did dread.. Of which he seen he grandmother in her deathbed.. He didn't kno he could write, but he did because it was his only Defense in the fight.. Eighth Grade. My English teacher tried to “Harness” my talent, in the raw.. Said in me she seen no flaws.. Never forget that competition I lost to Chris, but this teacher Pushed me into competitions Of which I had no interest... Freshman Year.. I got accused of plagiarism. They Didn't believe these were my writings.. After all, What could I possibly know About the world's tragedies, poverty, or how the stars were symbolic to my thoughts and tears... after jus a mere 14 years I've spent living here? I was told to “stick to something a 14-year-old could write" because a young man my age knows nothing about how world hunger just isn't right... Sophomore Year I wrote about the young girl that had my heart... That is, until she completely ripped it apart.. So I began to change it, grew cold, wrote bout "these hoes" because love was sumthin I just didn't want no mo! Junior year I began to mature, so I wrote about life, love things of that nature... Listened in class & found new ways to write, new things like using hyperboles, or changing it up & adding Analogies.. Senior year I had no fear, at least that's wat they seen. I was focused and my eye was keen..started to learn I didn't have to cry, so I wrote about stages In my life, I learned to say goodbye, bye to the things tht made me cry, held my head high & looked to the skies.. I didn't have to run, I learned I could be Fighter.. I learned by looking bak at the Evolutions of a young writer...
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Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Evolution of a young Writer
Seventh Grade. I wrote about a kid.. A troubled kid with memories, memories he did dread.. Of which he seen he grandmother in her deathbed.. He didn't kno he could write, but he did because it was his only Defense in the fight.. Eighth Grade. My English teacher tried to “Harness” my talent, in the raw.. Said in me she seen no flaws.. Never forget that competition I lost to Chris, but this teacher Pushed me into competitions Of which I had no interest... Freshman Year.. I got accused of plagiarism. They Didn't believe these were my writings.. After all, What could I possibly know About the world's tragedies, poverty, or how the stars were symbolic to my thoughts and tears... after jus a mere 14 years I've spent living here? I was told to “stick to something a 14-year-old could write" because a young man my age knows nothing about how world hunger just isn't right... Sophomore Year I wrote about the young girl that had my heart... That is, until she completely ripped it apart.. So I began to change it, grew cold, wrote bout "these hoes" because love was sumthin I just didn't want no mo! Junior year I began to mature, so I wrote about life, love things of that nature... Listened in class & found new ways to write, new things like using hyperboles, or changing it up & adding Analogies.. Senior year I had no fear, at least that's wat they seen. I was focused and my eye was keen..started to learn I didn't have to cry, so I wrote about stages In my life, I learned to say goodbye, bye to the things tht made me cry, held my head high & looked to the skies.. I didn't have to run, I learned I could be Fighter.. I learned by looking bak at the Evolutions of a young writer...
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24
* In Society, we blend with motions. This distance we travel, the face we see. Some the same, Some Unusual, Some unaware of anything, but the time, of day. Careful observations became my critiquing. Noticeable explanations, For why someone was a certain way, That certain way. We sway and bump, In this Co-existing crash course. Soul's with the youngest simple minds. Learning steps, voice & names. Reality is the kodak. The peacefully chaotic dimensions, That we eat, sleep & dream in. Our perceptions, are virtuality. The act, We laminate in the houses & schools we lived in. Admissible contrasts, Becomes the shell of ourselves. The soul soup & brain food. The evolutions. Must we ask questions of our desires? When it's pleasure is given, Only to the hands of paitent endeavors. Our Human form is transportation, Flipping through these mirrors, Realm to realm, Mind to voice, Voice to earth, & that's when finally Earth exists.*
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC
"Co-Existing"
Tough if I don't fit the profile and even tougher if I don't smile on cue, you can take me,I'll leave it,because I can't be arsed getting tangled up in that **** I'm just a bit of the common man and nothing more than I am,but I am content, have been for a while and so don't need to fit into anyone's profile. I make my decision about people which is about people, not by some algorithm based on a mathematical ideal, my likes and dislikes are based on something more real than the sum of the sum, a rich man,a bum,each one adds again to the sum of the sum. At the end of the day when the light fades to grey and the curtains are drawn, someone is profiling those yet to be born. What a shambles we are, look how far we have come,but more likely you'll look at the sum of the sum.
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
More evolutions