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"exclusive" poems
I’m in my prime; at the cusp of my development. A few more years of growth make decay a lot more relevant… *Glass Elephant, Glass Elephant,* Irrelevance, benevolence, Compassion, or malevolence; I’m one of few who sees it sums no difference. Glass objects. Or Elephants. Irrelevance, Irrelevance Striving for motion, with motive elusive Each thing I endeavor is far too exclusive I need something inclusive, objectively singular A sinusoidal wave with a mean lacking integers Peace in zero and equilibrium inclusion *Glass Elephant Glass Elephant* Delusions, Delusions
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Glass Elephant, Glass Elephant
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... *that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows the when and why of differing cuddling styles... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows when to leave a man alone alone in his man-mourning time, distance needed, letting his ex-rage dissipate or watching his red and blue football redefine ignominy... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift, she heartily agrees and is reciprocity rewarded regularly with hunk alerts of "hey-check-him-out!" that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, a tigress in the bedroom she asking, try this, I'll love it, served with a desert demo of awkward afterward, his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who doesn't abhor partner silences, comforting they are, in their own ways, lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who lets the man roar, top of voice, when imprisoned in car,   his voice, un enfant terrible, performs with Creedence Clearwater a sing-a-long in traffic, asking "Have you ever seen the rain" while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E. a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, when it's pheromones  alternative mode day, he celebrates Carole King day, she demonstrates her cuddling abilities, par excellence, with kisses and tissues a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... a woman, plain confident in her abilities no matter the situational status, when confronted by less-than-crazy-impetuous, she smiling says "why not," when he proposes, a movie and dinner in a fav haunt? "plenty excellent enough" her answer, spoke in a rising voice full of unfeigned delight a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, accepting the unexpected airport embrace on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays with the aplomb of a well lived life's long term sustainability perspective when he kisses her hand for no reason, while driving 75 miles per hour, she only winces internally, the other hand vise-grasping the other door's handle, who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie, celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's duality of strength and tenderness a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when on second date he proposes a non-exclusive relationship, confident enough to high-five respond, and laugh about it, seven years on a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when she reads it, analyzing the oeuvre as "too **** personal and as usual too **** long"* that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities in everything... even a little occasional criticism
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... *that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows the when and why of differing cuddling styles... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who knows when to leave a man alone alone in his man-mourning time, distance needed, letting his ex-rage dissipate or watching his red and blue football redefine ignominy... a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift, she heartily agrees and is reciprocity rewarded regularly with hunk alerts of "hey-check-him-out!" that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, a tigress in the bedroom she asking, try this, I'll love it, served with a desert demo of awkward afterward, his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who doesn't abhor partner silences, comforting they are, in their own ways, lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, who lets the man roar, top of voice, when imprisoned in car,   his voice, un enfant terrible, performs with Creedence Clearwater a sing-a-long in traffic, asking "Have you ever seen the rain" while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E. a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, when it's pheromones  alternative mode day, he celebrates Carole King day, she demonstrates her cuddling abilities, par excellence, with kisses and tissues a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities... a woman, plain confident in her abilities no matter the situational status, when confronted by less-than-crazy-impetuous, she smiling says "why not," when he proposes, a movie and dinner in a fav haunt? "plenty excellent enough" her answer, spoke in a rising voice full of unfeigned delight a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, accepting the unexpected airport embrace on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays with the aplomb of a well lived life's long term sustainability perspective when he kisses her hand for no reason, while driving 75 miles per hour, she only winces internally, the other hand vise-grasping the other door's handle, who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie, celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's duality of strength and tenderness a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when on second date he proposes a non-exclusive relationship, confident enough to high-five respond, and laugh about it, seven years on a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities, that when she reads it, analyzing the oeuvre as "too **** personal and as usual too **** long"* that's all any man wants, a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities in everything... even a little occasional criticism
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84
It's a wide open art, from the start. Rules are for schools. Dont fret em, forget em. So Relax with a syntax, clown around, with a pronoun. Squeeze the ****** of a dangling participle. Free flying like geese, creative words release, make it up if you please. Example--the plural of mice is meese. Flowery language isn't the exclusive domain of the professional writer, it's for everyone! To continue then, about the writers pen. No write or wrong, nothings too short or long. Mangled, bungled, butchered, bumbled, don't matter. We don't need a librarian to admire what we have done. Words aren't hard, fling them unbarred. It's not arithmetic, or teaching a cat a trick. Crunch them uniting, mix them combining. Fling them, meld them, Verb them, sell them. We don't need a New York Times best seller to enjoy the art of writing. Uncrate it, create it. Use it, and abuse it. Don't bar us from a thesaurus Or a dictionary. The spiel is to write real tell the tale seal the deal. WORD HATERS live in the town called Fictionary.
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
Writing with words. Fling them around if you will.
Some might consider me a fool, But I promise you my fidelity, Not just till we are married, Even as we sally forwards, I stay as true as that sun, In our joint life I pledge my fidelity, And I pledge my exclusive faithfulness.
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
Selfless Promise
Today, the words came to me Wrapped in their exclusive finery Ready to take me with them On a tour of the unknown alleys Of my heart, not visited by me Each word is a guide, leading me Towards the core of gratitude Being an avid traveler I was yet to take this journey With childlike glee I read each word Feelings which lay unexpressed Were touched by the magic message Like each new day brings fresh hope Each word spoke with such grace The roots of joy are rejuvenated And springs to blossom eternally To greet me with varied colors Of happiness, gratitude and hope Living each day in wonder Soft morning light ushers new day Gratitude in my prayer Before I start a brand new day
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Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
Words of Gratitude
-What is connection? -When 2 motions, thought to be infinite & mutually exclusive, meet in a moment. -Of Time? -Yes. -Time does not exist. There is no time. -Time is a straight plantation.
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12.2k
The Connectors -1
I never think much about the fact that I am black. I know I am black. Like I know I am a girl, Like I know I am an American, Like I know I am nineteen. It is a fact; I am black. I hate when people say I am not. My parents are black. Their parents are black. We are black. Look at my skin, It's dark and it's beautiful. How could I not be black? I am black. I hate when people say I don't 'act' black. How does one act to be considered black? How am I acting? How is it not black? Look at my skin, It's dark and it's beautiful. How could I not act black? I am black. I hate when people say I speak like a white person. A way of speaking is not exclusive to race. I am not white. I do not speak like a white person. My words are coming out of my black mouth. I speak properly, The way my black parents raised me to. Look at my skin, Its dark and it's beautiful. How could I not speak black? I am black. I HATE when people say I am a white person trapped in a black body. I have NEVER heard anything more insulting. I am NOT trapped. This color is NOT a cell. I wear it proudly. Look at MY skin, It is DARK and it is BEAUTIFUL! How could I ever be trapped? I am black. I am in no way white, Nor do I ever want to be. I am black And black is beautiful
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Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
I AM BLACK
X marks the spot with a kiss on the lips That journeys toward their other exclusive location: the treasure box between the hips.
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
How to get *****
imagine an underground network of rapists preying on tourist & local girls; having an agreement w/ the pimps & cops [same]; the tourist guides leading the ladies of all types, mostly young, stupid & white - blonde is better; local girls hitting puberty, getting dragged into the den at twelve get a choice, if they live; the dens filled w/ liquor & drugs; partying a little or just jumping her, dragging her to the open floor; she wakes up naked, thankfully not dead, her purse nearby; she goes to meet her new Desi bf at the bazaar where he introduces her to his friends; that night the same thing happens; it happens for a week then a month, then she helps the gang get other girls into it; it goes on all summer, & on into another summer, the winter filled w/ hot springs & expensive dates on the paved side of the street; Bollywood stars in American cars paying her **** who pays her coyote who pays the cop to get her to Europe on a tourist visa to work an exclusive Parisian Brothel
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
the good rapists [a prostitute's tale]
You've become my light. Hopes and future in sight. You want me and I want you back. Don't be so easily diluted. You want want want. So hard I've tried tried tried. If its me you really want. Understand I cease to be me. If I'm yours stringent and exclusive. In a vacuum don't suffocate me. Let me breathe let us thrive. I am a whole person outside of your clutch. Its who you fell in love with. Don't change me. Don't leave me. All because I need to be me.
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Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Want Want Want
“what are your special skills?” well— lately i have mastered the art of silent tears and wordless crying, shuddering breaths instead of wracking sobs. my eyes don’t even get red. if i do it right, i have the exclusive ability to break down in a full room without anyone noticing. also, i can brush my weak gums in front of the mirror and watch blood drip onto my uneven teeth without flinching. last, i can give the best i have every time and still my brain can convince me— worthless.
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Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
talents
There is an inherent discrepancy 'twixt the World in One's Mind and the World that simply Is. That is, however, no intrinsically bad thing. For, I find, that the world Within needs the world Without, though they inderdepend and thus are not mutually exclusive. There needs to be a discrepancy for the pressures, as it were, to have any room or excuse to neutralize: to move towards equilibrium; however, it is not linear, nor is it parabolic: this, I believe, is where Calculus becomes a valid allegory for Life, itself.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
The Calculus of Life itself.
A wind blows like a wilderness of wolves A vendetta, an apocalyptic vendetta In its unpredictable, accidental quality That swerves images of realization into tragedy Neglecting all with swift intent upon a fallen fortress In complected interests of caresses Neither invited nor encouraged yet displayed Displayed vividly with exclusive claim to that oppression That howls by casting itself as a consequence of transgression Upon a conventional expectation that claims a privileged sense That persuades without an orator grotesquely amputated shapes Extending extraordinary artifice as its priceless wealth But who, yes who, has envy of so rich a nothing
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Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Heteronormative Homophobia
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0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
*Watch* the match Detroit vs Toronto live HD TV
Value. Madalas lesson sa math at related sa piso Pero minsan pwede rin naman nating  iugnay sa tao Parang ako. Matagal - tagal ko na ring hinahanap yung halaga ko sa mundo Ipinanganak ba ako para maging sino at ano? Sa paglaki ko, dun ko natuklasan Na ang halaga ng tao nakabatay sa sitwasyon Yun bang kapag kailangan ka lang nila Saka ibibigay yung hinihingi **** atensyon. Yun bang kapag MAHALAGA KA LANG saka ka kukulitin Yung kapag kailangan lang ng tulong mo saka nila hihingin Kaya madalas tuloy napapaisip ako Ni minsan kaya naging mahalaga ako? O nagkaroon man lang kaya ng halaga ang isang tulad ko Dyan sa puso mo? Alam kong wala ako sa lugar para itanong ang mga  bagay to Kase una sa lahat, magkaibigan lang naman tayo Pero pagod na akong itago yung nararamdaman ko Pagod na akong Magsinungaling At magsabi ng di naman totoo pagod na akong lokohin ng paulit-ulit yung sarili ko Pagod na pagod na ako. Kaya sa mga sandaling ito Sasabihin ko na ang lahat Lahat ng nasa puso ko At sana kahit saglit pakinggan mo naman ako. Sana lahat ng sasabihin ko Tumatak dyan sa isip mo At maging mahalaga Yun bang paulit-ulit **** maaalala Parang lyrics ng paborito **** kanta Na maingat **** tinandaan at kinabisa Para lang wag **** makalimutan O makaligtaan. Sana ganun din ako, maging mahalaga Kahit  ilang minuto, ilang segundo Ilang oras Kahit saglit lang, gusto kong maging mahalaga Katulad nung paborito **** sapatos at damit Na kahit luma na iniingatan **** pilit Kase nga mahalaga at ayaw **** mawala Gusto kong maging Importante Pero parang malabo at imposible naman yung mangyari Kase kahit magkaroon man ako ng halaga Yung puso mo naman, hawak na ng iba Kaya heto ako,nilalabas ang nadarama Sa pamamagitan ng mga tula At sisiguraduhin Kong Hindi ito ang magiging una at huli Kong katha Na tungkol sayo Dahil habang nabubuhay ako Lahat ng tula at akda na gagasin ko, Exclusive lang para sayo.
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Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
Worth
Value. Madalas lesson sa math at related sa piso Pero minsan pwede rin naman nating  iugnay sa tao Parang ako. Matagal - tagal ko na ring hinahanap yung halaga ko sa mundo Ipinanganak ba ako para maging sino at ano? Sa paglaki ko, dun ko natuklasan Na ang halaga ng tao nakabatay sa sitwasyon Yun bang kapag kailangan ka lang nila Saka ibibigay yung hinihingi **** atensyon. Yun bang kapag MAHALAGA KA LANG saka ka kukulitin Yung kapag kailangan lang ng tulong mo saka nila hihingin Kaya madalas tuloy napapaisip ako Ni minsan kaya naging mahalaga ako? O nagkaroon man lang kaya ng halaga ang isang tulad ko Dyan sa puso mo? Alam kong wala ako sa lugar para itanong ang mga  bagay to Kase una sa lahat, magkaibigan lang naman tayo Pero pagod na akong itago yung nararamdaman ko Pagod na akong Magsinungaling At magsabi ng di naman totoo pagod na akong lokohin ng paulit-ulit yung sarili ko Pagod na pagod na ako. Kaya sa mga sandaling ito Sasabihin ko na ang lahat Lahat ng nasa puso ko At sana kahit saglit pakinggan mo naman ako. Sana lahat ng sasabihin ko Tumatak dyan sa isip mo At maging mahalaga Yun bang paulit-ulit **** maaalala Parang lyrics ng paborito **** kanta Na maingat **** tinandaan at kinabisa Para lang wag **** makalimutan O makaligtaan. Sana ganun din ako, maging mahalaga Kahit  ilang minuto, ilang segundo Ilang oras Kahit saglit lang, gusto kong maging mahalaga Katulad nung paborito **** sapatos at damit Na kahit luma na iniingatan **** pilit Kase nga mahalaga at ayaw **** mawala Gusto kong maging Importante Pero parang malabo at imposible naman yung mangyari Kase kahit magkaroon man ako ng halaga Yung puso mo naman, hawak na ng iba Kaya heto ako,nilalabas ang nadarama Sa pamamagitan ng mga tula At sisiguraduhin Kong Hindi ito ang magiging una at huli Kong katha Na tungkol sayo Dahil habang nabubuhay ako Lahat ng tula at akda na gagasin ko, Exclusive lang para sayo.
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58
tell me what words are there to articulate this savage parade not here, not in all the Lebanons whose crystal castles sparkle like broken glass on the dark horizons at the jagged edges of the world from which cultured minds have receded and all humanity has been relinquished to the barbarity of the frenzied flavours of fools who will speak for this wild parade without impediment to mythical protagonists tell me where are the energised arguments against sophisticated yet false laments where testament is torn through weeping cedar trees producing the unpredictable accidental quality that memorialises phantom caresses that have neither been invented nor encouraged the hallow that inaugurates the distinctive features of destructive energies that are both exuberant and hard to comprehend this parade where there is a savage sensibility capable of apprehending contradictory ethical imperatives that vouch for a mocking stream of tragic political consequence displayed vividly in the inextricability of civil order and political violence that defies exclusive claim by casting itself as freedom warrior in disguise as militaristic humanism and burns the temple tree and where human identity becomes an elusive possession owned by a few who in the inevitability of ignorance refuse to recognise their tragic error and the world does not mount a strenuous protest at this headlong dash for Ephesus where antagonistic language and neutral expression of thought converge and here the value of valulessness repudiates, even in a single poetic moment
0
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Syria
tell me what words are there to articulate this savage parade not here, not in all the Lebanons whose crystal castles sparkle like broken glass on the dark horizons at the jagged edges of the world from which cultured minds have receded and all humanity has been relinquished to the barbarity of the frenzied flavours of fools who will speak for this wild parade without impediment to mythical protagonists tell me where are the energised arguments against sophisticated yet false laments where testament is torn through weeping cedar trees producing the unpredictable accidental quality that memorialises phantom caresses that have neither been invented nor encouraged the hallow that inaugurates the distinctive features of destructive energies that are both exuberant and hard to comprehend this parade where there is a savage sensibility capable of apprehending contradictory ethical imperatives that vouch for a mocking stream of tragic political consequence displayed vividly in the inextricability of civil order and political violence that defies exclusive claim by casting itself as freedom warrior in disguise as militaristic humanism and burns the temple tree and where human identity becomes an elusive possession owned by a few who in the inevitability of ignorance refuse to recognise their tragic error and the world does not mount a strenuous protest at this headlong dash for Ephesus where antagonistic language and neutral expression of thought converge and here the value of valulessness repudiates, even in a single poetic moment
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47
The Revolution will not be pay-per-view, Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide, The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized, the Revolution will be patronized Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram The Revolution is more than digital trolling, It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse Do you have your passport for the Revolution? The Revolution is unauthorized Written for and by all the people The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee,   The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure Revolution 99% Uploaded Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action ~ NM 10/17/15
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Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
The Revolution Will Not Be a One-Time-Only YouTube Sensation
I was a flailing phoenix Trapped underneath a waterfall Unable to rise from the ashes While being continuously extinguished Until you constructed a dam With the flotsam from my heart I opened my wings and emitted light Fearing waterfalls I took my fire flight I was elated to have migrated Where the weather was tropical And the conditions seemed optimal But your aggravating absence Endeared an enigmatic essence A vengeful apparition That conjured rain I desperately craved your protection from the elements Until I noticed the precipitation was my infatuation For you and the things you do The things you build Make rivers stay still And the things you say Make me regret being gay Because you're a ****** You live in your exclusive dam Your teeth are like cleavers Gnawing on sacrificial lamb
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Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC
Phoenix
A handy Mole who plied no shovel To excavate his vaulted hovel, While hard at work met in mid-furrow An Earthworm boring out his burrow. Our Mole had dined and must grow thinner Before he gulped a second dinner, And on no other terms cared he To meet a worm of low degree. The Mole turned on his blindest eye Passing that base mechanic by; The Worm entrenched in actual blindness Ignored or kindness or unkindness; Each wrought his own exclusive tunnel To reach his own exclusive funnel. A plough its flawless track pursuing Involved them in one common ruin. Where now the mine and countermine, The dined-on and the one to dine? The impartial ploughshare of extinction Annulled them all without distinction.
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5k
A Handy Mole
Walking in a circle is, in the fondest sense, going absolutely nowhere, even though it feels better than walking completely backwards. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I have never even been face to face with you and mine grows weaker and weaker with the length of time between the moments I get to touch you. The strange thing is that, prior to meeting you, I have a hard time describing what it was I was even doing - the storms you have hurled into my quiet life is all I know now, and I never realized just how flimsy my own infrastructure was. I have seeped into the walls you throw dishes in and the floors you roll around on, and I feel everything your fists do equally, if not more. Who knows my body better than you? The places I dip and divide and slope and bend; who has held me down with nothing but words and sweaty silence that lay thick enough for us to cut with butcher knives? My stomach is trained to clench is desperation when your name is mentioned and I am nervous around anyone who shares with you; a picture is worth a thousand words, but your name is worth one million, and you've never spoken mine aloud but I have murmured yours, like a mantra, repeatedly, groaning in the way wounded animals do and trembling with that same fear. I can't count on my fingers how many nights I traded sleep for a reason to talk to you, and all too well do I know how many lifetimes are crammed into the seconds before an anticipated phone call. People might wonder how I even survive when you aren't around, but how many ways can a dog entertain himself when the master is away? Oftentimes, in a state of unwarranted panic, I claw at my clothes as though you are lurking underneath, and only rarely are you there, metaphysically. I am not the only person the rain falls on; I understand that there are plenty of others who are lulled by the charm of someone who knows nature of a human being in the way that otherworldly creatures might, but in this instance I know that everyone is haunted in their own exclusive way, and you are always flickering in the periphery of my blurry vision when my bedroom lights are out.
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
cops and donuts
Walking in a circle is, in the fondest sense, going absolutely nowhere, even though it feels better than walking completely backwards. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I have never even been face to face with you and mine grows weaker and weaker with the length of time between the moments I get to touch you. The strange thing is that, prior to meeting you, I have a hard time describing what it was I was even doing - the storms you have hurled into my quiet life is all I know now, and I never realized just how flimsy my own infrastructure was. I have seeped into the walls you throw dishes in and the floors you roll around on, and I feel everything your fists do equally, if not more. Who knows my body better than you? The places I dip and divide and slope and bend; who has held me down with nothing but words and sweaty silence that lay thick enough for us to cut with butcher knives? My stomach is trained to clench is desperation when your name is mentioned and I am nervous around anyone who shares with you; a picture is worth a thousand words, but your name is worth one million, and you've never spoken mine aloud but I have murmured yours, like a mantra, repeatedly, groaning in the way wounded animals do and trembling with that same fear. I can't count on my fingers how many nights I traded sleep for a reason to talk to you, and all too well do I know how many lifetimes are crammed into the seconds before an anticipated phone call. People might wonder how I even survive when you aren't around, but how many ways can a dog entertain himself when the master is away? Oftentimes, in a state of unwarranted panic, I claw at my clothes as though you are lurking underneath, and only rarely are you there, metaphysically. I am not the only person the rain falls on; I understand that there are plenty of others who are lulled by the charm of someone who knows nature of a human being in the way that otherworldly creatures might, but in this instance I know that everyone is haunted in their own exclusive way, and you are always flickering in the periphery of my blurry vision when my bedroom lights are out.
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1
Mattel is proud to present their new doll Barbie as a mom Barbie as a mom let kids explore their nurturing side Barbie as a mom comes with exclusive accessories like A child And a bottle to keep them quiet Barbie can now look responsible and put together between her friends Barbie can now proudly show her offspring and receive compliments Enjoy all the perks that Barbie as a pet owner didn't have Barbie as a mom can also wear matching outfits and upload them to Instagram Wouldn't she look so cute? Accessories don't have names Doll cannot stand alone Colors and decorations may vary
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May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC
Available at your local store
Prowling through the undergrowth In our barging juggernaut, Ploughing the rolling hills of water, Which crease as the narrowboat sluggishly gliding past, Brushes the bulrushes like a tiger in the reeds. For four intrepid days Our film and photographs are empty to show, No sign, only missed whispers, Of the hummingbird blue blur. A darting flash cresting the morning chill, Regal turquoise stealthily steals Our attention, our focus, and our tiller Noses toward the bank hugger. And we have him. Small amber-royal fisherman, Eclipsing his heron heralds And the swans silent vigil In majestic lapis lazuli. Swift and sure he graces the water, Fisher King, Which bends beneath his dive. Resurfacing, his golden breast Mottled with silver minnow. There recluse in his exclusive spot, Fish foundering still in the ****** The kingfisher's poise frames his catch Aperture, shutter, captured shot.
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Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Kingfisher
Little Barbie Doll, oh, how you love to be played with! So kind, you are, to offer your services to all; to not be sexist or rude, to not be selective or specific. Little Barbie Doll, oh, how pretty you are! So beautiful, you are, with lashes so long; to not be fake or plastic, to not be secretive or allusive. Little Barbie Doll, oh, how active you are! So mobile, you are, you'll play anywhere; to not be restrictive or exclusive, to not be immaculate, or unblemished. Little Barbie Doll, oh, how I wish to be like you! So perfect, you are, with a reputation of a vamp; to not be pure or classic, to be unclothed and slatternly. Little Barbie Doll, oh, what a ***** you've become!
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
Little Barbie Doll
When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe And storied urns record who rest below: When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been: But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still his master’s own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, Unhonour’d falls, unnoticed all his worth— Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth: While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven. Oh Man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power, Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Degraded mass of animated dust! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit! By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on—it honours none you wish to mourn: To mark a Friend’s remains these stones arise; I never knew but one,—and here he lies.
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4.4k
Inscription On The Monument Of A Newfoundland Dog
my bare, bruised lady-skin           is covered with a thick carpet of sensual                                secrets            which will remain                                         exclusive                                         and                                         elusive [until death do I part]. my bare, bruised lady-skin            is made up of freshly formed scar tissue which will remain                                         pretty                                        and pink [until death do I part].
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Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
Lilith was a feminist