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"exceeded" poems
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
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6
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration, Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world. Gathering the neighborhood like family. The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working       around the edges, humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet, even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses. Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass, two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan. News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness as the Holy Roman Empire. Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North       America, even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical. Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter, up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish. Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery       was voluntary. What is the carrying capacity of the planet? In China is it each couple or each adult that gets one offspring? As life expectancy and standards rise, family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities. The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,       grasslands, space. Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Immigration
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration, Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world. Gathering the neighborhood like family. The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working       around the edges, humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet, even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses. Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass, two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan. News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness as the Holy Roman Empire. Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North       America, even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical. Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter, up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish. Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery       was voluntary. What is the carrying capacity of the planet? In China is it each couple or each adult that gets one offspring? As life expectancy and standards rise, family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities. The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,       grasslands, space. Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
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31
(the gate is a crowded mess, please no special requests, be thankful you got a seat, this flight is sold out and I’m beat.   I get up and stand on my chair and say) *I give thanks for: the uncommon greatness of common sense for the steady approach of that wondrous day when kindness is neither random or unexpected, but the rule, not the exception for our opinions and deeds, that are our own, derived without coercion, born from our thoughts and observations and that we are equal to both owning them and to changing them that we live in a time that friendships can grow just through the quick exchange of words leaping bounds for eyes that see deep deeper than skin, ears that hear what those ashamed wish you didn’t, hands that grasp regardless of distance, the taste of  kisses that come easy sweet   for the  day when I at last knew, the pleasure of giving so far exceeded receiving, that giving and receiving became synonymous that I learned that the best skill to possess  is to anticipate the needs of others that my lucky position in this world permits me to act on the things for which I am thankful* that someday I will need no longer inquire, are you my poem, for the answer will be self-evident to us both
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Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC
LaGuardia Airport, Thanksgiving Day Eve
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
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6
In statistics we learn that certain events have undeniable independence, which allows us to predict the success or failure under certain circumstances and I couldn't help but catch myself wondering what the probability was that an attempt at taking my life might have and I considered calculating the chance of success, part of me hoping that parameter exceeded its counter part while the other part silently prayed and dearly hoped that the chance of failure knocked success out of the picture. But these are independent events and even after analyzing past trials the only way to know for certain would to be to carry it out myself.
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Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Statistical Suicide
Bearded man on a dock who exists just to talk, What is your purpose today? How do you make others stay? Old fellow over here, What in life makes you cheer? Special riches or foreign places? I only see familiar faces. Please, my humble traveler passing by, I beg you to help me taste our blue sky. This life has been terribly unfair There is not much more that I can bare. Oh Mister please don't leave me behind, Each minute is my exceeded time. I come to you for counseling and closure I'm not ready for this life to be over.
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Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
Help Me Fly
Wistful,  cheerless, used  to  be  brave,   and  fearless.  Liars,  haters  have  been  walking,   around  me  these  days. Charming,  well  educated,  that's  who  you  showed  to  me  before  you  shot  me I  thought  you  were  charming. I  thought  you  were  well  educated.  I  thought  you  needed  me. It's  all  gone  when  you  left  me. I  was  just  looking  for  some  friends,  Now;  I'm  only  looking for the  real  ones. Couldn't  realize  which  ones  were  fake  before,  When  did  hellos  start  to  be  called  as  goodbyes,  After  some  while,  I  know  which  ones  are.  Couldn't  stand  to  this  anymore,  faded,  Feeling  so  alone  in  this  crowded  room,  Can't  love  like  this, it  has  exceeded,  Feeling  like  I've  overdosed.  Wasted. Every  colour  was  taking  me  back  to  you,  Every  mark  was  pushing  me  away  from  you.  Spring  hasn't  begun  yet. It  was  not  warm  at  all. Just  cold  with  sadness,  darkness  with  secrets,    strangers  with  lies.  Charming  strangers  are  everywhere.  They've  been  around for  centuries. They  look  like  Venus  or  Mars,  inside  they're  like  black  holes. Pluto  who  I've  always  been.  An  outsider?    no,  no,  no  A  fighter.  ☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩ @lightinthedarknesspoetry
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Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 5:39 PM UTC
charming strangers
Wistful,  cheerless, used  to  be  brave,   and  fearless.  Liars,  haters  have  been  walking,   around  me  these  days. Charming,  well  educated,  that's  who  you  showed  to  me  before  you  shot  me I  thought  you  were  charming. I  thought  you  were  well  educated.  I  thought  you  needed  me. It's  all  gone  when  you  left  me. I  was  just  looking  for  some  friends,  Now;  I'm  only  looking for the  real  ones. Couldn't  realize  which  ones  were  fake  before,  When  did  hellos  start  to  be  called  as  goodbyes,  After  some  while,  I  know  which  ones  are.  Couldn't  stand  to  this  anymore,  faded,  Feeling  so  alone  in  this  crowded  room,  Can't  love  like  this, it  has  exceeded,  Feeling  like  I've  overdosed.  Wasted. Every  colour  was  taking  me  back  to  you,  Every  mark  was  pushing  me  away  from  you.  Spring  hasn't  begun  yet. It  was  not  warm  at  all. Just  cold  with  sadness,  darkness  with  secrets,    strangers  with  lies.  Charming  strangers  are  everywhere.  They've  been  around for  centuries. They  look  like  Venus  or  Mars,  inside  they're  like  black  holes. Pluto  who  I've  always  been.  An  outsider?    no,  no,  no  A  fighter.  ☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩ @lightinthedarknesspoetry
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59
i picture your hand on top of mine catching fire while i rub on your thigh i didn’t have expectations but you exceeded mine thunder stricken, hit it a second time wonder if you dreams look like mine your body draped in candle light
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Aug 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023 at 10:21 AM UTC
Catching Fire
If thou survive my well-contented day When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover, Compare them with the bett’ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men. O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: “Had my friend’s Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought To march in ranks of better equipage; But since he died and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I’ll read, his for his love.”
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3.2k
Sonnet 032: If Thou Survive My Well-Contented Day
I've learned a lot this year. I've learned that things don't always go the way we want them to go. That life is not always gonna hand you roses. That you make your family. That my best friends have continually given me and Audi love even when I push them away. That God is the only way I'm gonna get through the darkest moments. That it's ok to cry. That a broken heart will fix it itself over time. That my normal has shattered and I have to make a new normal. That my family has been my rock. That my husbands best friends miss Maynard as much as I do. That my husbands best friends have stepped up on more then one occasion to be there for Audi and for me. That I love hugs! Lol That Audi is the reason I'm still alive That true saying that your heart breaks when your kids are hurting. That Maynard will be missed by so many. That I'm a good mom. That my parents have far exceeded making Audi and I feel loved. That I am a strong single mom! And I can do this and I have to do this.
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Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
I've learned a lot this year
Without legitimate occupancy, Adverse possession is the legal right Of anyone who moves in and maintains A property, so here's the deal. We must Move in to 1600 Penn, The current tenant having broke the lease. The caravan from Guatemala first, Hondurans trudging slowly from the depth. Then the Yemen children not yet murdered, Those with preexisting conditions next, And women whose assaults were ridiculed, Those roughed up by cops and politicians. Losers in the war on drugs, the big house Having far exceeded capacity. The mentally ill, discarded by the Great communicator after he tore The Solar panels off the roof.  This is Anger, not poetic license.  When a Long train of abuses and usurpations Evinces a design to reduce them Under absolute Despotism, it Is their right, it is their duty to throw Off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. Such Has been the patient sufferance of these And such is now the necessity which Constrains them to alter their systems of Government.  And journalists under  fire, If there's room still left in the briefing room, Let facts be submitted to a candid                           World.
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Squatting 1600 Penn
I've been hopin' to build a strong foundation; combined with friendship and eventually fall in love, with My Someone Special... So in time, when many years have come and gone; him and I would always know we'd still have one another... I've been hopin' to have my breath taken away- at just the thought, of My Someone Special... So in time, when many years have come and gone; him and I would always know we'd still be in love... I've been hopin' to be swept off my feet and have my heart captured, by My Someone Special... So in time, when many years have come and gone; him and I would always know we'd still have that certain romance... You and I... I believe, we've been lucky with us!!! Someone must have "you and I" written in the stars... Right away, we started 'us' with the beginnin' of a, strong foundation, that I've been hopin' to build one day... And over the next few weeks of getting to know one another more... we decided we were ready to finally meet; hopin' to see if we could be that 'something more' everyone longs to have... I was taken back- by your gentleman-like manners and respect for me. The rest has been happenin'... all on its own! You've already met and exceeded my hopes... You've been sweepin' me off my feet and are still capturin' my heart; all in so little of time- over these last few weeks... Now I'm wonderin'... if you've even realized this as of yet... And if this is what you've been hopin' for, too! Are you, Baby, meant to be My Someone Special? 2008 COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey, ~Angelmom~
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Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
My Someone Special~
I've been hopin' to build a strong foundation; combined with friendship and eventually fall in love, with My Someone Special... So in time, when many years have come and gone; him and I would always know we'd still have one another... I've been hopin' to have my breath taken away- at just the thought, of My Someone Special... So in time, when many years have come and gone; him and I would always know we'd still be in love... I've been hopin' to be swept off my feet and have my heart captured, by My Someone Special... So in time, when many years have come and gone; him and I would always know we'd still have that certain romance... You and I... I believe, we've been lucky with us!!! Someone must have "you and I" written in the stars... Right away, we started 'us' with the beginnin' of a, strong foundation, that I've been hopin' to build one day... And over the next few weeks of getting to know one another more... we decided we were ready to finally meet; hopin' to see if we could be that 'something more' everyone longs to have... I was taken back- by your gentleman-like manners and respect for me. The rest has been happenin'... all on its own! You've already met and exceeded my hopes... You've been sweepin' me off my feet and are still capturin' my heart; all in so little of time- over these last few weeks... Now I'm wonderin'... if you've even realized this as of yet... And if this is what you've been hopin' for, too! Are you, Baby, meant to be My Someone Special? 2008 COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey, ~Angelmom~
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68
The **** monster was a friendly one He'd love to lay on the roads under the summer sun He'd love following in the footsteps of those who run But he for one never felt useful to anyone at all So he decided one day to rescue people at a single call. The **** monster slowly exceeded his name Became the **** hero But still had people criticise his methods Saying "your ways stink" Or the even more rotten responses "You disgust our city "... But he kept a high head and decided to spread cheer For when you love something You will give it all you have And the **** hero really loved the city.
0
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
**** monster - **** hero
I miss the open highway I’m besotted with quick getaways. What other sensation can compare to pulling G’s with wind-whipped hair? When my foot’s on the throttle, I feel unstoppable. Faster, faster, no faster, that’s the rush I’m after. Where are we going? There’s just no knowing, and no matter where we roam, the GPS will get us home. One thing was guaranteed, the speed limit would be exceeded. I adored the wide open straightaways and the feeling of a racing-day at Marseilles. I remember in the Appalachian mountains the plunging, snake-like, winding canyons as the speedometer edged past ninety how my escort, Charles, would glare at me. I’d let off - a little - and laugh, I mean, isn’t freedom the American dream? To hear the growl of a V8 motor, as it turns rural-roads into roller coasters.
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Feb 11, 2023
Feb 11, 2023 at 12:41 PM UTC
lets hit it
It's a painful stretch to re-loving Gargoyles in clusters clutch at my heart Talons pierced and locked wings wrapped upon layers Pulling each one away takes insufferable self violence Just to clear a small space to let you through Too many years of inequity have placed needs burning in my heart   you struggle to relinquish your control, Your gift of consideration is noted. Your changes have exceeded my expectations Though we are nowhere near even. Still, I play it peachy, Your tenderness, your keeness to please me Is unnerving, too little,  too late Your heart whispers squeal like whistles in the hunt Unsettling the watchdog beasts Growling and snarling Clawing tighter at the leather pith of a stone heart Your own needs are barking Your expectations are going to be laid, I'm letting blood Before your debt is even paid It's going to be different this time... Claws tighten, wings gripping tighter Artehoke heart, just another set up I keep anticipating the fall. I go on pretending in the hope It will become real Your darkness permeates your dark love kills Still, there's something about you I can't live without.
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Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
Gargoyles and peaches
We've been this way for a very long time, we've been together for more time than you can imagine. Little weary chains link our minds, looping in and out and up and down. We're this tangled mess of synced thoughts and synced dreams, and sinking syllables.  Every sigh that you let slip from your tired lips is an indication of my exhaustion, because you and I, we lie in comfortable tessellation. You and I, we've been through magical realism, and the romantics, and the surrealists, the grammar nazis and the pretenders. You and I, we've etched each other in shifting sands, in clumsy waves. You and I, we know each other's movements across a blank sheet of paper. You waltz onto empty pages with constellations for punctuation. Screens may read verbose sacrifices to the patron saint of inspiration, but you, you don't stop or pause to check for abbreviation. You take half hearted syllables and turn them into poetic nations, you build monuments to love but you neglect infatuation. You try to touch every single figment of my overactive imagination but then you shuffle away so as not to cause complete annihilation. You speak lucid languages in times of complete inebriation and you continue this slurred speech against all drunk invitations. You try to write me down in moments of utter desperation but the grip of your words falter as I run to my wild desolation.  You and I, we've run across clouds, left our footprints in the wake of comets. You and I, we've sailed all the seas of consciousness, those that can be fathomed, and otherwise. Slowly, your step exceeded mine, and your stride was longer, so I struggled to keep time. Slowly, I felt our tangles unwind. Slowly, our roots straightened out in a single line and you crossed it. You crossed it. Un Saut dans le vide, a leap into the dark, and you were up, up and away. I wanted to trap you in cunning similes, but you were running as fast as the wind. Little weary chains that linked our minds now struggle at the seams, tiny links begin to unlink, unlink, unlink. one by one by one.
0
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
#4 ('You and I', a series)
We've been this way for a very long time, we've been together for more time than you can imagine. Little weary chains link our minds, looping in and out and up and down. We're this tangled mess of synced thoughts and synced dreams, and sinking syllables.  Every sigh that you let slip from your tired lips is an indication of my exhaustion, because you and I, we lie in comfortable tessellation. You and I, we've been through magical realism, and the romantics, and the surrealists, the grammar nazis and the pretenders. You and I, we've etched each other in shifting sands, in clumsy waves. You and I, we know each other's movements across a blank sheet of paper. You waltz onto empty pages with constellations for punctuation. Screens may read verbose sacrifices to the patron saint of inspiration, but you, you don't stop or pause to check for abbreviation. You take half hearted syllables and turn them into poetic nations, you build monuments to love but you neglect infatuation. You try to touch every single figment of my overactive imagination but then you shuffle away so as not to cause complete annihilation. You speak lucid languages in times of complete inebriation and you continue this slurred speech against all drunk invitations. You try to write me down in moments of utter desperation but the grip of your words falter as I run to my wild desolation.  You and I, we've run across clouds, left our footprints in the wake of comets. You and I, we've sailed all the seas of consciousness, those that can be fathomed, and otherwise. Slowly, your step exceeded mine, and your stride was longer, so I struggled to keep time. Slowly, I felt our tangles unwind. Slowly, our roots straightened out in a single line and you crossed it. You crossed it. Un Saut dans le vide, a leap into the dark, and you were up, up and away. I wanted to trap you in cunning similes, but you were running as fast as the wind. Little weary chains that linked our minds now struggle at the seams, tiny links begin to unlink, unlink, unlink. one by one by one.
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24
I feel you slipping away my love when the night is cold and still. When the years rush in and  stand  quietly by my bedroom door, quiet and mute with sorrowful eyes with shoulders drooped in resignation. I feel you slipping away my love as I sit here. As the reality glimmers through and shines upon this page, the silent rage  now unspoken for want of reason or assignment. Broken and wasted like a crystal vase with roses strewn across the floor. I feel you slipping away my love as I grasp feebly at the strings of the beautiful bouquet that  rises just beyond comprehension and wafts gently on the summer night to lite tattered and unwilling in far places unseen by our desires. Embers  softly glowing and now knowing the end has now begun. Years upon years of clawing at our fears that this was not to be. A blazing fire dowsed with strife and ire ,no air to stoke the flame. No time to play the game.  All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. I cry quietly in the glow of poor reason. I feel you slipping away my love. I feel us slipping away now and forever. The shell does just as well to crumble. A castaway sits on the sandy shore knowing full well that rescue will find his molding husk frozen in time and empty  in the continuum. His  bones bleached past. The grinning mask of irony and  frozen regret. My love our reach exceeded  our grasp but youthful willfulness and hope was the rope. The rope that we clung to and weathered  the battering breezes as we closed our eyes to reason after all love will find a way ?.Even love was not enough, but we knew deep down. I feel you slipping now with eyes wide open. We watch  as the chasm widens and shrug our shoulders. Calloused hands tired of trying now. Weary eyes dry from crying now. willfully stuck and  denying now. I feel you pull away. I will wonder the desert parched with regret of this I have no doubt. But deep down I knew this. Hoping against hope. still. There will be no other to take your place. Who could?. We gave hope it's chance. Once we did dance. Life became duty. We fought off the wolves. We turned. We forgot. We grew apart while joined at the hip. How funny. How sad. Duty bound as love unwound. No us time. I feel you slipping, slipping. Goodbye. My. Love.
0
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
In The Wee Hours
I feel you slipping away my love when the night is cold and still. When the years rush in and  stand  quietly by my bedroom door, quiet and mute with sorrowful eyes with shoulders drooped in resignation. I feel you slipping away my love as I sit here. As the reality glimmers through and shines upon this page, the silent rage  now unspoken for want of reason or assignment. Broken and wasted like a crystal vase with roses strewn across the floor. I feel you slipping away my love as I grasp feebly at the strings of the beautiful bouquet that  rises just beyond comprehension and wafts gently on the summer night to lite tattered and unwilling in far places unseen by our desires. Embers  softly glowing and now knowing the end has now begun. Years upon years of clawing at our fears that this was not to be. A blazing fire dowsed with strife and ire ,no air to stoke the flame. No time to play the game.  All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. I cry quietly in the glow of poor reason. I feel you slipping away my love. I feel us slipping away now and forever. The shell does just as well to crumble. A castaway sits on the sandy shore knowing full well that rescue will find his molding husk frozen in time and empty  in the continuum. His  bones bleached past. The grinning mask of irony and  frozen regret. My love our reach exceeded  our grasp but youthful willfulness and hope was the rope. The rope that we clung to and weathered  the battering breezes as we closed our eyes to reason after all love will find a way ?.Even love was not enough, but we knew deep down. I feel you slipping now with eyes wide open. We watch  as the chasm widens and shrug our shoulders. Calloused hands tired of trying now. Weary eyes dry from crying now. willfully stuck and  denying now. I feel you pull away. I will wonder the desert parched with regret of this I have no doubt. But deep down I knew this. Hoping against hope. still. There will be no other to take your place. Who could?. We gave hope it's chance. Once we did dance. Life became duty. We fought off the wolves. We turned. We forgot. We grew apart while joined at the hip. How funny. How sad. Duty bound as love unwound. No us time. I feel you slipping, slipping. Goodbye. My. Love.
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Curious is it not? How in life we fear the unknown vastness of eternity, we recoil at thoughts of infinite punishment for our sins and run from the truth we must inevitably face. Death. Perhaps not something we should fear and avoid, although, I am no more an expert than yourself, nor the next. Am I to suffer damnation in the Inferno? If so, to which circle shall I reside? In my punishment, would I be granted the blessed respite of conversation? Perhaps a subject to one of Virgil's tours? Then again, should such an event come, would my madness not be exceeded by a need to hold such converse, and amplified at it's end? Or heaven bound am I? Destined to shake Peter's hand and live a death of bliss. But to who's end? Would everlasting joy be through a freedom to do as I wish to do? Or would I yet spend all until Armageddon under the law of a deity who wants what I do not? Whatever I am to see after I have lived I shall look upon in awe and splendour, but until that moment I shall allow but one thought on the subject.   "Non lasciare che la paura della morte, ostacolare l'amore della vita" Do not let the fear of death, hinder the love of life.
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Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
Vita
Blood Orange Marmalade and Wild Blossom Honey (a love song) summer treats, sure, but not of what we come to sing no, this a love story sung, all about a Sunday afternoon BBQ... she knows I don't sleep, cause I'm never there when she awakens, her worry~not~words don't soothe, sorry, when ears are clogged by fright and worry so she does what a woman does, cooks me a meal to soothe the intemperate noises buried in the soil, haunting this old soul now on the downlo downward curve, who wonders how he got himself into another Laurel and Hardy^ fine mess... so she will slide me into happy, BBQ sliders will stop the blood flow to a brain that has not rested once all year, she shops old fashion style, wild blossom honey from Germany, blood orange marmalade from where I don't know, to sweeten the barbie sauce, her living loving way (I add my salt tears right about here) if this is not a love song, then what is? my ooh's exceeded by only my aah's, music for her hearing, far better than my poetry forlorn, demonstrate my pleasure bite by bite, giving her, my love's loves delights for she cooks love and I write love poems that won't be sung, but nonetheless, will be our shared repast and banish temporarily all the subterfuge gloom on a blue green summer Sunday afternoon if this is not a love song, then what is?
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Blood Orange Marmalade and Wild Blossom Honey (a love song)
It's the first time I feel my heart is whole, unbroken and full I am proud that I pushed myself for so long, and finally exceeded this glass ceiling that I unconsciously created. I reached a place of self actualization A place I thought was made up for traumatized people to aspire to. I feel that for once my heart is actually mine. That my heart is home Home for me not the people that abandoned me. What a feeling. I learned my worth And I feel free Thank you.
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Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
First time
When a situation has exceeded its date of expiration in the weak-boned refrigerator of your memory, the noxious smell that looms from thick barrier to thick barrier is enough to make your arm hairs drop like counterfeit pine needles. It must be, then, this awkward moment, or maybe this childhood trauma, the smell of it, that has caused this grimace sealed by the cement of self-castigation on your incongruously human face each day. The past is our psychotic ex-boyfriend, the kinds that breaks the windows when your eyes have collapsed shut, when our pretty little souls were at their most exposed and our frail little doors were rocking on their hinges. Save me from him- rinse me clean- help me ripen and never rot. Give my senses refuge from the siege leering in the Expressionist slabs of my pitch black Memory.
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Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC
Memory
what a wonderful coincidence to discover that when I look up   one of my two favorite words threshold it is linked to my other favorite word phenomenon but my life is laced with coincidence my third favorite word they happen daily like itches for instance, today I did a wikipedia search for Ezra Pound because my poetry student daughter fell in love with one of his pieces I find that from 1945 to 1958 Mr Pound was incarcerated at St Elizabeth's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington D.C. after being found incompetent to stand trial for treason against the United States my father worked at St Elizabeth's hospital for 30 years including the 12 that Mr. Pound was a patient my father, who kept his poetry hidden in a little black book I have a vision of him young at the time enamored with the 60 plus year-old poet seeking him out and finding him resting outside at one of the tables enjoying the simplicity and intricacies of nature and perhaps they have a chat about poetry... my father having a chat with Ezra Pound 70 years before his granddaughter falls in love with one of his poems a poem already written and filed away somewhere in the memory of a once beloved poet threshold: the magnitude or intensity that must be exceeded for a certain reaction, phenomenon, result or condition to occur or be manifested. “nothing happens until the signal passes the threshold”
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
Having a chat with Ezra Pound
She brushed out landscapes with her words as deftly as any impressionist master and speed-trekked us from where we sat to scenes of transcendent beauty. Each day I awaited her verbal canvases with self-indulgent anticipation. But one day all was all different. What was this horrific account of of unspeakable Afghan tragedy - A wandering woman whose final defeat, after all she loved had been butchered, was hope beyond all recovery dragging her feet through the dust? I picked up my heart from out of the soil to ask her, "were you there?" She was  - with a physician's bag for Cindy is a doctor who eschews a suburban clinic to defy all danger and be where life would fail without her healing craft and care. Dodging bullets, sputum and mortal threats, Cindy fights life's most essential battles and so uplifts the standard of our species. The next day Cindy painted for us a verdant mountain scene whose whispering streams and fragrance exceeded all I'd every witnessed. I wonder where she is. September, 2013
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Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Cindy's Poems
I love not knowing what will happen. Because it gives me divine mystery. It allows me to hope & dream, and to have my expectations exceeded And I learn that as I swim away from the shore, I can always rest on my back. Safely floating. And the waves will carry me, because as beautiful as the unknown is, one thing is certain... the waves will come.
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Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
Learning To Swim
Sadly this generation is more familiar with the death star depicted in Star Wars please let me try to Change your mind the need for this is the war with terror an uncertain future for sure if you are Only speaking in terms of a natural future it is dismal at best many are turned off by the true Facts that this world is owned by a singular person that’s because your view is distorted by Darkness languid stagnation you need to go to the edge of the universe meet the wonder of Wonders a spectacle will leave you spellbound and speechless draw near and feel the verve And Pulse of all light see Victoria Falls Niagara Falls but let them equal the globe in size their Depth and breadth circles the known world instead of water envision light colors so distinctive Ruby red Emerald green Sapphire blue just to name a few dazzling to the point of confusion in Other words your minds grasp is exceeded introspection will be piercing the most mundane Streets of dusty villages before thought not worth the time will reveal secrets swells of joy will Carry you on their wings you will never view the world the same true dreams will knit Distortions that are a plague and a Bain they have been fostered in every corner your childlike Innocence will be restored you will find love that you think no longer exist all that ensnare the Human community is revealed openly harnessing the light of the morning will realign and give a True fix so much of life lies in shambles and in ruin with a clear head you will advance and not Stumble the vexation of death will be transformed shadows will flee away a new day awaits Pains sorrows will be accredited with unseen value no longer struggling through the mist but Clarity will give way to adventure you will begin the climb ascend to great heights yes duty will Still be in play but it won’t be drudgery that will be replaced with thrills stimulation you venture Forth as kings and queens mapping your great domain anything less is insulting to you and the Morning Star I will leave you with this so many words are spoken in this life but three are worth More than all the rest they are of eternal significance they are I made it!
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
Behold: The Morning Star
Sadly this generation is more familiar with the death star depicted in Star Wars please let me try to Change your mind the need for this is the war with terror an uncertain future for sure if you are Only speaking in terms of a natural future it is dismal at best many are turned off by the true Facts that this world is owned by a singular person that’s because your view is distorted by Darkness languid stagnation you need to go to the edge of the universe meet the wonder of Wonders a spectacle will leave you spellbound and speechless draw near and feel the verve And Pulse of all light see Victoria Falls Niagara Falls but let them equal the globe in size their Depth and breadth circles the known world instead of water envision light colors so distinctive Ruby red Emerald green Sapphire blue just to name a few dazzling to the point of confusion in Other words your minds grasp is exceeded introspection will be piercing the most mundane Streets of dusty villages before thought not worth the time will reveal secrets swells of joy will Carry you on their wings you will never view the world the same true dreams will knit Distortions that are a plague and a Bain they have been fostered in every corner your childlike Innocence will be restored you will find love that you think no longer exist all that ensnare the Human community is revealed openly harnessing the light of the morning will realign and give a True fix so much of life lies in shambles and in ruin with a clear head you will advance and not Stumble the vexation of death will be transformed shadows will flee away a new day awaits Pains sorrows will be accredited with unseen value no longer struggling through the mist but Clarity will give way to adventure you will begin the climb ascend to great heights yes duty will Still be in play but it won’t be drudgery that will be replaced with thrills stimulation you venture Forth as kings and queens mapping your great domain anything less is insulting to you and the Morning Star I will leave you with this so many words are spoken in this life but three are worth More than all the rest they are of eternal significance they are I made it!
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