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"excellently" poems
he said/begged, make love to me just like a woman! kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck, trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips, quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids, nibble me, near me, close and closer yet unto the glorious victorious near death experience... whisper me sweet everythings before during after and over again, when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside Columbus me with tongue and eyes, take me slow then again, even slower, for thy pleasure, than execute summary judgement upon me falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny my every appeal to oh my god for anyone's mercy! adjudge me then guilty yet again, and to the tower take me to drown in mine own lashing lamentations, thy incontrovertible evidence, mine own uncensored revelations execute me twice, slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures *she said,  and so I shall, eventually, do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out shotgun so you must start my dear by following all the precise driving instructions you just stated, and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes, I'm waiting...* too wit and sod this! he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied, *all hell and damnation, treat me like a woman just once pity-please!" *can't can't can't - she be-witchingly cackled! then sang to me the lyrical words of a Nobel Prize winner!* "***You fake just like a woman Yes you do, you make love like a woman Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman But you break just like a little boy**"
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Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
he said/begged, make love to me just like a woman
he said/begged, make love to me just like a woman! kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck, trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips, quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids, nibble me, near me, close and closer yet unto the glorious victorious near death experience... whisper me sweet everythings before during after and over again, when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside Columbus me with tongue and eyes, take me slow then again, even slower, for thy pleasure, than execute summary judgement upon me falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny my every appeal to oh my god for anyone's mercy! adjudge me then guilty yet again, and to the tower take me to drown in mine own lashing lamentations, thy incontrovertible evidence, mine own uncensored revelations execute me twice, slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures *she said,  and so I shall, eventually, do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out shotgun so you must start my dear by following all the precise driving instructions you just stated, and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes, I'm waiting...* too wit and sod this! he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied, *all hell and damnation, treat me like a woman just once pity-please!" *can't can't can't - she be-witchingly cackled! then sang to me the lyrical words of a Nobel Prize winner!* "***You fake just like a woman Yes you do, you make love like a woman Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman But you break just like a little boy**"
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47
Well-tempered As Bach's staccato joy takes hold Of Book 1: Prelude No. 3 A clavier so mild, calm Lagavulin-scented air Peat moss, weather fair The happy harpsichord And the placid piano Join in my glass Mingling, giving the whisky A nuance Of elegance Balancing the burn Excellently
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Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
bach whisky
Life is so funny in its uncanny and unpredictable ways. It reaches out to us with powerful grip, yet allows us to make decisions about what we think we want without interference but with consequences of our actions. Molded in our favour, fashioned to bring succour and comfort to ameliorate the pains to be encountered. This helps to do things the right way the first time, allowing things to manifest and work the way they should, not the other way around. It’s like when we brush our teeth before we go to the dentist to have a teeth cleaning or when we wash the dishes before we put them in the dishwasher or when we clean up the house before the maid arrives. These are not following the natural order of things. Yield to the kindness of nature. Listen to the rhythm it beats into your consciousness, it's wisdom is of superior quality. Accept whatever it gives you, for the miraculous is woven and hidden inside it. The notion is to take you to the apex of your mountain if patience is excellently exercised and not be distracted. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
THE NATURAL ORDER
Today I bought a square plate it's not for me, but for an enemy that I could do worse things to, if I was a less noble person as the things they've done I will not speak. The plate is porcelain and quite finely made elegant and excellently finished for how not so pricey it was hints of history seems to hide in it's shell-- as seams are weaved into what has probably lived a long and unused existence this handcrafted masterpiece. Separately painted by some fancy artist to whom I do not recognize the name of, although it is said he may have done something wrought with his ear or did this man's uncle make this plate, oh well, I am unsure. It is these very details to why, I am now in possession of this piece of the past that will be priceless to those who know more craftsmanship, at least more knowledgeable than the man who sold it to me. From the gleaming in your eyes I can tell this plate may even mean a great deal to you is this true my good friend? oh well, I guess I can give the plate to you instead of the devil I spoke of before. *As I handed my prize to them it began to feel heavier than any ordinary plate should, gravity granted the greatest reprise I've ever sought as the demon's face whelmed with depression and mine satisfaction-- for being such a convincing storyteller.
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
A Priceless Plate for my Enemy
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wishèd sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever; Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright.
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2.3k
Hymn To Diana
I can do this too, when I'm not au naturel And trying to beat all of your @sses with how well I make the gentleman, how excellently I am the imp, How swell I step, dancing, aside, how terribly I simp - Sometimes catch me getting back and giving the barman a chance - I heeded their call; I washed off the day, and stepped into a trance Of raspberry, rose and sandalwood; I donned my blue and pink silk, And my black boots, tights and blazer - She's got style; And in that ilk I also painted my face, with blues, whites, pinks, blacks, golds And it was late when I stepped out, and in the very holds Of the night that a lady like I should find terrifying, but I walked The quarter of an hour to the Silk Mill; talked For something more like four or five, Face sharp, hair artfully mad, alive In every sense, aided by the fine cocktails in this student setting I could enchant all in four languages, and I did, forgetting For a bit that another one of my faces I believe to be repugnant: Because it begs for attention; and my current, commanded it Because I came expecting nothing, and asking nothing, And I quite frankly didn't give a d@mn about much of anything, But if I wasn't very much a part of the room, and very much she Whom every boy needed to speak to, and would ideally keep the company Of, if that wasn't I Then every lie's a truth, and every truth, a lie.
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Mar 20, 2022
Mar 20, 2022 at 11:15 AM UTC
Go on, flirt with me
He hides in my closet he has a scary look with ridged nails and pointy sharp white teeth But he is shy and doesn't come out till nightfall when no one can see him because he is insecure and he doesn't want to be made fun of by the other monsters who wander around Every time I hear him come out he is humming a tune I would softly request him to sing because I cannot sleep when he would open his mouth Wonderful words would come out sounding excellently in tune even though there was no background music in my head, his singing sounded like a symphony was playing the most lovely melody If I could I would stay up all night till dawn when he would retreat back into the closet I would listen to him all night But as he sings the melody floods me and my eyes can not stay open as I slip into a deep slumber I would still hear him singing When I wake up my room is soundless I would look in my closet to see if he is there but he is hidden where I cannot find him
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Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 11:30 PM UTC
The Monster
I believe in myths. Every naturel blonde was first someone else.  By that I mean, she was known as Norma Jean, maybe Katy, in high school (see reincarnation below). My teenage glory days, when I was the king of cool, will revisit when I am 75 years old, the man-in-demand (wink), wearing his lucky wide cord corduroys and letting my man-bun, all the way down, at the prom in the senior citizen home, getting lucky, say once a month... God, yup, after all, ***** cometh to me regular-like, when he needs a poet~father to take his confession, and pays me most excellently for refusing him forgiveness, with the most excellent poem suggestions or lesser valuable things. Love at first sight, of course, happens to me all the time, twenty, thirty times when I am walking home.  I tell ya, it's exhausting, the stress of living in the big city Not only will I win the lottery someday, will take down both,  Powerball and MegaMillions, in the very same week the odds for which there ain't enough zeroes in HP's servers. (See God, above). Reincarnation. One time they Hale(d) and then hanged me (my "namesake") and I said: " I only regret, that I have but one life to lose for my country."  Well, the selfies all show oh-boy-o-boy, was I ever grinning and winking. Only boys are bullies, girls get off easy, by getting called just mean. One day my city's teams will win the World Series, the Stanley Cup, the NBA Finals and the Superbowl all in the same year but only after I die and me, well, only after they will have buried me in Wyoming or France, just for spite, and nobody will hear me screaming. My children will speak fondly of me even after they find out I died broke, well maybe not fondly, but they will most definitely call out my name, regularly. After my demise, all the typoes in my poems will magically disappear. All these good things will come to fruition, because I am a believer, and walked the humble path. The autopsy will also show that my tongue was permanently stuck to my cheek.
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Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
I believe in myths
I believe in myths. Every naturel blonde was first someone else.  By that I mean, she was known as Norma Jean, maybe Katy, in high school (see reincarnation below). My teenage glory days, when I was the king of cool, will revisit when I am 75 years old, the man-in-demand (wink), wearing his lucky wide cord corduroys and letting my man-bun, all the way down, at the prom in the senior citizen home, getting lucky, say once a month... God, yup, after all, ***** cometh to me regular-like, when he needs a poet~father to take his confession, and pays me most excellently for refusing him forgiveness, with the most excellent poem suggestions or lesser valuable things. Love at first sight, of course, happens to me all the time, twenty, thirty times when I am walking home.  I tell ya, it's exhausting, the stress of living in the big city Not only will I win the lottery someday, will take down both,  Powerball and MegaMillions, in the very same week the odds for which there ain't enough zeroes in HP's servers. (See God, above). Reincarnation. One time they Hale(d) and then hanged me (my "namesake") and I said: " I only regret, that I have but one life to lose for my country."  Well, the selfies all show oh-boy-o-boy, was I ever grinning and winking. Only boys are bullies, girls get off easy, by getting called just mean. One day my city's teams will win the World Series, the Stanley Cup, the NBA Finals and the Superbowl all in the same year but only after I die and me, well, only after they will have buried me in Wyoming or France, just for spite, and nobody will hear me screaming. My children will speak fondly of me even after they find out I died broke, well maybe not fondly, but they will most definitely call out my name, regularly. After my demise, all the typoes in my poems will magically disappear. All these good things will come to fruition, because I am a believer, and walked the humble path. The autopsy will also show that my tongue was permanently stuck to my cheek.
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22
All I ask is an antidote allowing all adults around the atmospher an appointment about arguing. Because brother basic bodies are bound to believe bragging & bribing basically being broad brings about the best. But be Cautious, cause carpets can't carry couches alone, concrete creeps. Causing careless catholic christians to create children. Don't **** the deranged, dedicate the distaste to the drugs. drinking, and dumb deeds that did it. Even Eminem explains enternal emotions excellently. For fear feeds frusttration, though frustration can find fun in fornitcation. Foul. Focus on friends and family. Getting grouchy gonorrhea grants graves too gorgeous gilrs. Game over. However, having ****** hardly helps handsome happy hands. Indicating interesting intakes, involving inception in indecive individuals. Just joking, jealousy just justifies Jose Cuervo. Kinddling kindness kidnaps king kong's kingdom. Learn like lovers, loathing little, liking largely, letting laughs live loudly. Maning mold mountains out of mud, make missery monogamous with merry. Never neglect the notion of nice. Optimism overcomes others opinions. Personally, persisting perfection probably puts pessimistic patterns in people's personalities. Quietly questioning their quality. Rest assured reading random reactions really is redundant. Searching someones soul secretely sends self salvation. Take turns, tell truths, talk, these things take time, they are talents to be treasured. Understanding ultimatums unlocks unlimited unison.
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May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 1:50 AM UTC
Relationship ABC's
All I ask is an antidote allowing all adults around the atmospher an appointment about arguing. Because brother basic bodies are bound to believe bragging & bribing basically being broad brings about the best. But be Cautious, cause carpets can't carry couches alone, concrete creeps. Causing careless catholic christians to create children. Don't **** the deranged, dedicate the distaste to the drugs. drinking, and dumb deeds that did it. Even Eminem explains enternal emotions excellently. For fear feeds frusttration, though frustration can find fun in fornitcation. Foul. Focus on friends and family. Getting grouchy gonorrhea grants graves too gorgeous gilrs. Game over. However, having ****** hardly helps handsome happy hands. Indicating interesting intakes, involving inception in indecive individuals. Just joking, jealousy just justifies Jose Cuervo. Kinddling kindness kidnaps king kong's kingdom. Learn like lovers, loathing little, liking largely, letting laughs live loudly. Maning mold mountains out of mud, make missery monogamous with merry. Never neglect the notion of nice. Optimism overcomes others opinions. Personally, persisting perfection probably puts pessimistic patterns in people's personalities. Quietly questioning their quality. Rest assured reading random reactions really is redundant. Searching someones soul secretely sends self salvation. Take turns, tell truths, talk, these things take time, they are talents to be treasured. Understanding ultimatums unlocks unlimited unison.
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21
The living shall worship 🛐 thy Lord as the Angels adore Him on the throne. Off their faces with their golden crowns 👑+ bowing down. Their songs is hallelujah, 🙌 glory, giving holiness, admiring the everlasting living being. Who made heaven is holy place of abode. Make audible roaring, let the pillars of heaven tremble, and the waters surrounding the universe from the peak of heaven shallow down the depth of sea bowing🙇 before His presence Every powers and knees worship, 🛐 before his presence, glory, salvation, healing, blessing, devine favor, love, peace, life hove in His presence, sing melodiously shout excellently even with poetry, sing palm unto thy Lord who is worthy, on whose hands lies everythang. Holy, holy spirit, holy is thy Lord Almighty God. Blessing be the name of thy Lord God. Amen! 🙏
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Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 3:27 PM UTC
BEFORE HIS PRESENCE
At times it happens that I sleep for days wherever I am in an absolute, uninterrupted dream. Almost no one notices, I myself Don’t notice it half of the time At times like that, I’d sit with you With a quiet blue feeling I’d be morose or joyful I’d breathe you Relaxed And be afraid when there is a reason to be. I would tremble with my new found arrhythmia, Faint over devils, Over beautiful lads with sunny eyes Because my body follows my mind And my mind is patching together a long time now Strength For new attacks, From past attacks. And it can’t seem to gather more than a cord A ******* cord, umbilical From when I was born Stored in a drawer in the bedroom Which formerly had paint brushes but Lately, after my mother makes more mosaics Than paintings There is only years’ worth of junk The other day, I opened it, And found the cord In excellent condition I considered selling it on an auction so I have more money for a dress But realized that people don’t normally care for excellently kept umbilical cords. Then I decided that I’d tie it around my head Like a turban I figured it would bring me back the connection It would erase my independence In the past twenty years That it would make me less alone in myself. But what it did was: It wrapped tighter around my ears Forcing me to hear my cry Right after I got out of there Right after I’d taken my breath And believe me, I haven’t cried like that since.
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Umbilical Cord
I am smiling at your thought that the Apple Picker has nearly died from standing on that ladder, From hearing rumbling apples falling into the bins... I have worked that hard as well, and I didn't die. When a person works all day, standing on a ladder, Or holding a paint brush, or swinging a hammer, Or driving a tractor or truck, or shoveling manure.... You get the picture.... Yes, we grow blisters. Yes, we are exhausted. Yes, we would rather be lounging on a beach Almost anywhere else in the world..., But the truth is this: After a long day's hard work, Food fills most excellently, The shower? The shower is the best shower ever, And the sleep? The sleep is the sleep of the dead, Dreamless, full of rest....
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Apr 2, 2024
Apr 2, 2024 at 7:28 AM UTC
Response to a Student after reading "Apple Picking," by Robert Frost....
A little known secret of actors: you can force yourself to cry by simply thinking about how badly you want to. Here's how it's done. Start with fertilizer. Remember how you felt that first year you did so excellently at school, all-year struggling and so devoted, woke up Christmas to your mother's purchase, eager for sugar plums and hedonist things, ripped merrily into math workbooks. The seed comes next, budding in the open tunnels of self-worth - when he told you that the thing you were best used for could be done by anyone, really, the oldest profession, and how you liberated your oils on canvas long exiled to make a scene of Rahab and Joshua, and cried yourself away on alien bedding. Water it all in whatever leaves the garden hose. When they whistled without a name. When your first time hosting supper was a catastrophe. When you failed to keep certain things alive. When the housecat burrowed in your warm motor, and you just wanted to leave so badly. Funerals of people you never knew, and bugspray in your eyes. One neglected message stays: anyone can cry.
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Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 1:43 PM UTC
Jericho
1)The living shall worship 🛐 thy Lord as the Angels adore Him on the throne. 2)Off their faces with their golden crowns 👑+ bowing down. 3)Their songs is hallelujah, 🙌 glory, giving holiness, admiring the everlasting living being. 4)Who made heaven is holy place of abode. 5)Make audible roaring, let the pillars of heaven tremble, the foundation of the Earth quake. 6)And the waters surrounding the universe from the peak of heaven. 7) Shallow down the depth of sea bowing🙇 before His presence. 8) Every powers and knees worship, 🛐 before his presence. 9) Glory, salvation, healing, blessing, divine favor, love, peace, life hove in His presence. 10) Sing melodiously, gloriously shout excellently even with poetry. 11) Sing palm unto thy Lord who is worthy, on whose hands lies everythang. 12) Holy, holy spirit, holy is thy Lord Almighty God. 13) Blessing be the name of thy Lord God. Amen! 🙏
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Apr 28, 2023
Apr 28, 2023 at 5:03 AM UTC
PSALM OF CLOUDNINE TO ADORE THY ALMIGHTY LORD GOD
Across a million faces in a thousand different places I find you in blossoms of flowers like am a captive of your magical powers I find you in the depth of my heart even if we are completely worlds apart in cold days mocked by soothing patters of rain pattering right above the echo of my pain I see you here with my eyes shut in the emptiness, as my mind is dead alert *I hear your voice in whispers of the wind maybe you're invisible to me since love's blind you might be right here as well, trapped to this moment on the same wave at war in the torrent of torment bearing painful blisters of regret from burns of desire enduring stifling emotions that won't retire reeking of an excellently brewed obsession  that won't expire and since you were my breath I can hardly respire even the hardest of scotch and wines couldn't lift me higher out of the abyssal deep doldrums of this mire* **I smell your scent of roses at night beneath my sheets and as I walk feeling isolated along these crowded streets at every single thought about you my confused heart beats while in my palm where your fingers fitted, cold emptiness slits I see you in the hovering birds of prey as they bask in the sky flamboyantly spreading their vast wings as they fly under the sweltering haze of Sun where I burn for you in recollection of your entrancingly licentious sigh** *everywhere I go, in different places I see you masked upon a million faces I feel you in the roseate blossom of flowers in every second of every minute of my hours for am still a captive of your enchanting powers*
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
CaptivE
Across a million faces in a thousand different places I find you in blossoms of flowers like am a captive of your magical powers I find you in the depth of my heart even if we are completely worlds apart in cold days mocked by soothing patters of rain pattering right above the echo of my pain I see you here with my eyes shut in the emptiness, as my mind is dead alert *I hear your voice in whispers of the wind maybe you're invisible to me since love's blind you might be right here as well, trapped to this moment on the same wave at war in the torrent of torment bearing painful blisters of regret from burns of desire enduring stifling emotions that won't retire reeking of an excellently brewed obsession  that won't expire and since you were my breath I can hardly respire even the hardest of scotch and wines couldn't lift me higher out of the abyssal deep doldrums of this mire* **I smell your scent of roses at night beneath my sheets and as I walk feeling isolated along these crowded streets at every single thought about you my confused heart beats while in my palm where your fingers fitted, cold emptiness slits I see you in the hovering birds of prey as they bask in the sky flamboyantly spreading their vast wings as they fly under the sweltering haze of Sun where I burn for you in recollection of your entrancingly licentious sigh** *everywhere I go, in different places I see you masked upon a million faces I feel you in the roseate blossom of flowers in every second of every minute of my hours for am still a captive of your enchanting powers*
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33
Darling, it’s no spring yet am going again to bed no one problem to think about please, don’t say it too loud Of course am doing my best rhyming excellently for the rest of my HelloPoetry family of course, scapegoats enough, ne’er my glee Scapegoats what for? writers' block and the more? no muse ever drops in at mine luckily the sun always shines Am I the only one without a muse? oh dear I am not amused ! must I hire or just call? Wait, I just give a kick, and have a rollicking ball © Sylvia Frances Chan
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Just A Ball
i woke last night listened for some sound that might have disturbed      my sleep the moon hangs low over the treeline, just      past full, moonlight floods, reflected by winter's snows, to light the house with a silver,         incandescence i step down the stairs and stand at the picture window overlooking the      gardens wrapped against mid-winter, nighttime chills i see that,     overnight the pane has been lined with      frost and i know reaching to the pane, the frost is most excellently cold, and i come alive, burning with      desire frost melting beneath my          fingertips for i know, now, whose distant thoughts have      sought mine to wake me at this new and      wondrous hour of the morning looking out the      window the garden rests, deep in snow, with bits of straw poking through and burlap wrapped          shrubs imagination brings forth a summer's growth of Victorian roses for my distant love as she thinks          of me here, burgundy, to say she is beautiful to me; there, the yellow of joy and friendship; next to a pink, a wild rose bush, the color of gratitude      and grace; and, of course, the      red, for passion, standing with the white rose, the mix which conveys              unity
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Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
notes on a winter rose garden, 2 a.m., Eastern Standard Time
Like a pretty and clear mirror That reflects our pictures anytime , Our images do the same work ... If we understand others fully,then We can give excellently our points-of-views Greatly,wonderfully,and clearly about People anywhere and everywhere ... People like to be praised ,so Never exaggerate things ....
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Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
Our points-of-views
**He met her in the courtyard by chance, though pitted against each other in a fierce competition, both willingly enrolled, they fell in love, at fist sight, as if by a hidden cue. Left out, by this turn, unexpected they felt, no spirit of competition in them is now left; two yarns in the magical weave of life braided in perfect design, excellently blended in quick time, can any one orchestrate a moment like this? It's an apparition from the womb of time,  on its iridescent wings flew down to intervene, on behalf of some spirit, evil or noble who can tell, except when,  time is ripe. Life is a walk through dark and enchanted woods we stop a while where, paths diverge, and  take one, sometimes by sudden impulse, most take the beaten ones, the less traveled appeal some, holding the hand of a beloved bathed in silver light, at the moment, will it lead to destination or not, one knows not,  that moment is decisive, at the end as much intervention of fate, if one views that way, as human proclivities.**
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Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
A sudden turn, unknown design
I’m seconds from emotionally breaking, down but I hide it well Behind this bright smile I carry on my face, so no one can tell I poise my voice proud and strong as steady as can be But when it comes to my eyes, that never tell lies, I simply can’t compete I can trick my muscles to turn upwards when I conversate face to face But that only works if I keep my distance and avoid any personal space I can go through the motions of my daily routine as if I didn’t have a worry in the world But with tears in my eyes I begin to cry when I’m alone and my barriers unfurl Underneath these layers, lay a broken heart desperately searching for love But it’s concealed and covered up, tucked in tight, with veils of confidence above It’s one of my greatest talents that took years to perfect and serves excellently at protecting My heart from my fears, after all these years, but still, it never fails, no matter how hard I try – my eyes always seem to tell - on me
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Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
Emotionally breaking down
Though reading horror stories (macabre), an only every now and again genre crazy wave washing over me like a killer tsunami, (subsequently fueling desperation) to save thine scrawny **** (a derriere laughing stock, and hence cheeky of me to rave), those rare occasions satiated, when hung over insomnia heavily bulging, rheumy myopic blood shot eyes nonetheless lock into critical opening sentence determining, whether adroit kingly author nimbly setting the stage and pave ving what thenceforth, pro misses tubby a cell out ace in the hole captive audience (me, this apt pupil), doth brace himself (by all counts once a bad little kid) deserving, well...now... just a bag of bones, who fiendishly cackles when leaning in (Sheryl Sandberg like), whereat after opening sentence, an instantaneous possessive gnarly hand forcibly grabs my attention presaging and frightening yours truly (juiced in case ye did not know), where within the bazaar of bad dreams epic, which seems like forever, when I finally erase and exorcise the bogeyman who, masterfully, immediately, dramatically got woven lady chattery teeth and all withering wicked warp and woof establishing (proof positive), an excellently crafted Chiral Mad heavily shades of night are falling gussying haunting place, where the color of evil permeates every cerebral space with darkness, said sub rosa prime evil punctuates the mind this dream catcher, whence after four past midnight the reaper's image appears sending adrenaline rush, viz flight or fight blind did, when firestarter alarm didst grind passage of time manifesting dark forces blaze zing atavistic fear itself lined up battleground formation from the borderlands of my mind this even before turning the first page where the eyes of drag'n my afterlife shined!
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 4:23 PM UTC
Cut To The Chase...And Tan Hat Man!
Though reading horror stories (macabre), an only every now and again genre crazy wave washing over me like a killer tsunami, (subsequently fueling desperation) to save thine scrawny **** (a derriere laughing stock, and hence cheeky of me to rave), those rare occasions satiated, when hung over insomnia heavily bulging, rheumy myopic blood shot eyes nonetheless lock into critical opening sentence determining, whether adroit kingly author nimbly setting the stage and pave ving what thenceforth, pro misses tubby a cell out ace in the hole captive audience (me, this apt pupil), doth brace himself (by all counts once a bad little kid) deserving, well...now... just a bag of bones, who fiendishly cackles when leaning in (Sheryl Sandberg like), whereat after opening sentence, an instantaneous possessive gnarly hand forcibly grabs my attention presaging and frightening yours truly (juiced in case ye did not know), where within the bazaar of bad dreams epic, which seems like forever, when I finally erase and exorcise the bogeyman who, masterfully, immediately, dramatically got woven lady chattery teeth and all withering wicked warp and woof establishing (proof positive), an excellently crafted Chiral Mad heavily shades of night are falling gussying haunting place, where the color of evil permeates every cerebral space with darkness, said sub rosa prime evil punctuates the mind this dream catcher, whence after four past midnight the reaper's image appears sending adrenaline rush, viz flight or fight blind did, when firestarter alarm didst grind passage of time manifesting dark forces blaze zing atavistic fear itself lined up battleground formation from the borderlands of my mind this even before turning the first page where the eyes of drag'n my afterlife shined!
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63
in your body(nexttomine)is a small electricity tingling directly against my skin freshly glued so bones velvetly lavished in groping cuddles of perhaps hands. a sort of like the sky is puddles of kissing faces excellently. and the world in flowers snugly fits between womb and soil. where i will say life briefly in your tiniest mouth, . ' . ,
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Jul 29, 2011
Jul 29, 2011 at 1:03 PM UTC
in your body
In other to have order restored by the power that be, the elites must have a message to harness the rule of law to affect the public and protect the people they govern. Restructuring is a prerequisite for a time such as this. The states must be given more power to handle affairs of the people. True federalism is to put up a structure for the sake of posterity and the benefits that comes out of it for the people involved. As simple as it is, we as a people must be ready to confront all the rigours of austerity of which some amount of sacrifices are expected regardless of the outcome and results from our collective decisions. Restructuring is a must for proper performance and perfection for a magnificent and excellently successful unified progress. Balance must be restated and restored. A valued economic recovery and growth is expected to reach its peak at the end. Our lives as a people must be valued for all this to work and marvelously manifest itself. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
RESTRUCTURING A MUST
the story of the Colossus is epic in dimension and size to narrate it would require an endless sunrise enamored with his poetic skills we all most certainly are his radiant abilities shine brighter than the evening star the page comes to life as we so attentively read his phrases and figures of speech are of the finest creed the awesomeness of his poetry doth so inspire   with a wordage pool that sets our hearts on fire his quill's ink ne'er partakes of rest for there is much he hath need to say at his desk he labors on a stanza to so sublimely and excellently array marvelous, exemplary, outstanding all of these superlatives and more tells us of the rare prowess and style the Colossus hath in spades galore
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Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
The Colossus
go hearts you trip from chests burst and rolling beautifully extend and bend you yield and fold impose into empty space your clever face petals slink and lance mine delving into their right between crease excellently that impervious tongue to mingle and marry with my own voracious love drunk string
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Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 2:45 AM UTC
go hearts