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"The link with exiguities was abundantly clear,
It exists there in the cloth's she wore,    
It takes currency to purchase what one wears,  
Exiguity is in the language they speak,

Present in the language or words spoken,    
Speech begins to feel as currency to one as they interact,
It is everywhere it stains everything as it hovers about,
It oscillates about It watches from every corner of the page,

Exiguity is not something one can leave behind,
A child born into exiguity will always feel its presence,
At the edges of everything existing matter that shared,
At any moment they can feel the fractures of exiguity,

It is in there gaze back to others as it seeps and oozes in ataraxy,
These abhorrent things of exiguity as the daily impecunious,
Even right now its presence is apperceive surrounding thee,  
As you fear it is in thy words these tiny fractured words of dearth,
Fear not for you shall ascertain knowledge free from EXIGUITY"

By Andrew Guzaldo © 3/08/2021 Posted HP #197
By Andrew Guzaldo © 3/08/2021 Posted HP Poem #197
Deepsha Aug 2012
The flying didn't cease, nor did the gravity
but I stayed close to the ground
my mother had told me not to drift too far
but that one time I did
that one time, I,
I tried to stop, I really did
that day I saw the prodigy there was
that wasn't anymore
I saw sanctity gasping for breath
choking on its own emesis
it shouldn't have gotten so drunk on sin
an aura fighting to survive against pretention
hands holding on to a fading faith
slipping like a baby, yet, tripping and trying
my wings set ablaze by the heat of raging insanity

A memory that day was cast forever
A pithy precis comes charging to me

My eyes opened to what I assumed hell
an old man nominally clad in a tattered sheet
pressed a medicinal red cloth against my anguishing wounds
in a hut that barely stood up
hay dripped off its exiguity
drops of water leaked everywhere
but the 4 feet cot that I lay on
the gracing peacock feather near my feet
gave the only colour to my grey eyes

He shivered of his elderly age
that seemed younger than his wrinkles
poverty seemed to have worn him down
but not more than the wickedness around

"My child, are you feeling alright?"

Affrightened and confused by the terra incognita
I merely nodded in affirmation

My eyes looked around to discover a nurturing,
smiling face,
then to a corner with a *** of water
and food meagre for an infant
he took a morsel in a leaf
and presented to me what was left

"This is enough for me my dear,
do you mind finishing the rest,
it is a bit dry,
here, have it with some water instead
now eat well child,
you look like a stick for a girl your age."
then he smiled again,
and walked away
with nothing on his leaf, but the satisfaction of a whole on his face

I looked at the dry bread crumb
moistened by a drop of my tear
trying to force his bites through
I wasn't ready for the hope he shared
my throat was taking bath in ice
his altruism healed my bubble that was burst
this wasn't the insanity that burnt my wings
this was the one that stole a morsel of my love.
Behind the extreme luster of pearl of the orient sea
tons of covenants, precedents, and laws
But why O' why I unfailingly see
the same *pathway to exiguity
I am a concern citizen of the Philippines. We have so many laws.... tons of laws
Mujen Suraj Mar 2020
When she close her eyes
the world shrinks,
and with the bee buzz she fall in the woods.
The woods beneath her eyes.

She find herself in mystic and safe place,
and settles there like an unborn soul.
Free of all dreams and bounds.

She doesn't afraid of howling dark clouds, which never let the sky blue.
neither of gigantic trees,
which let realize her exiguity.

She hids there sometimes,
willingly, to provide her calmness.
She creates the puzzle of thoughts,
an keep in her pocket.

The woods beneath her eyes.
James Nov 2018
Born, I wasn't made for the riches,
They've forgotten my mother's stitches.
Borne to a home built by exiguity,
Hope to stay in for a brevity.
At a loss of hope I pondered:
What much is there to live for, I wondered.
But vengeance gathers in a bunch,
So I opened every door of ****** nonesuch.
Crawled in and sat in their hole,
Only to be withered away like a crooked soul.
Into the air I streamed,
Up into the atmosphere it seemed.
Farther from home,
I drift into a black roam.
Spacious enough to be alone,
I have found my tone.
I've finally known myself,
To fit perfectly in this akward shelf.
I was a misfit,
Too ignorant too quit it.
Played like a puppet,
By the wealthy culprit.
Justice is my unruly mission,
And they'll take watch of my disturbed exhibition.
I stumbled upon this bit, written by me years ago when I first started writing poetry. It's filled with a a bunch of nonsense that I wrote when feeling whatever emotion I felt at the time. Despite the middling quality, I thought it would be amusing to share whatever teenage, emotional frustration I had undergone.
Maria Mitea Aug 2020
Eximious met today with Exiguous,
and what a tragedy,
they both ended up in exiguity.
#eximious #exiguity #tragedy

— The End —