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"explicate" poems
complexity bias how you love to criticize my poems as too long and overly complex poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews Writing is a **** temptation - we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90% perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring - give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is easily digested and there are no consequences I am a member of a discriminated-against minority we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of our faces,  you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied 25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white, my occupation is playing video games and making sure my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States where I was born there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in my future this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy, ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about, on your way out, of course, of course, we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way, order slowly declines into disorder my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the the Herzog continuums and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my going, gone under so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the requisite taxing authority you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go, perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
0
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:56 PM UTC
complexity bias of a ******
complexity bias how you love to criticize my poems as too long and overly complex poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews Writing is a **** temptation - we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90% perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring - give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is easily digested and there are no consequences I am a member of a discriminated-against minority we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of our faces,  you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied 25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white, my occupation is playing video games and making sure my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States where I was born there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in my future this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy, ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about, on your way out, of course, of course, we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way, order slowly declines into disorder my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the the Herzog continuums and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my going, gone under so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the requisite taxing authority you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go, perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
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41
I wish to disambiguate to explicate; expanciate: I do not begrudge polyamory, and whatever Love entails to any particular person, for I once was polyamorous; I understand some of the ways in which polyamory can work. Usually when single, or otherwise in an open relationship. I also do not begrudge sluttiness; everyone needs some and some can't resist. Besides, it is noble to work such charity. Who am I, who once sought such charity, to demonize it? I, who have lusts and desires? I do, however, take grievous offense to One in a relationship who tells their partner they're soulmates and who, instead of agreeing to end the monogamous relationship, goes and sleeps around and cheats on their "soulmate", moreover if over and over. It's hard to cope with such deep hurt, and I wish to convey my apologies for my rash hybridized expressions of Anger, Frustration and Hubris. Perhaps it perturbs me so simply because it reminds me of who I once could be and was. Perhaps it irks me so because I'm envious. Again; Polyamory is not a Sin; but before you just go **** someone at least be single or in an open relationship; it isn't only you who is affected by your choices, and I know that's hard to see when you are so young. Don't hold back who you really are, but please; don't cheat others in the process. Not only is Karma a ***** but so can Retribution be; you never know what One scorned is capable of; the next time you cheat someone they may not fall back on mere words; A few more years in this World may teach you that such Anarchy doth go both ways, my dear; Vigilante Justice knows few bounds: Don't take too many chances when it comes to who you **** nor when it comes to who you **** over.
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
Polyamory is not a Sin
I wish to disambiguate to explicate; expanciate: I do not begrudge polyamory, and whatever Love entails to any particular person, for I once was polyamorous; I understand some of the ways in which polyamory can work. Usually when single, or otherwise in an open relationship. I also do not begrudge sluttiness; everyone needs some and some can't resist. Besides, it is noble to work such charity. Who am I, who once sought such charity, to demonize it? I, who have lusts and desires? I do, however, take grievous offense to One in a relationship who tells their partner they're soulmates and who, instead of agreeing to end the monogamous relationship, goes and sleeps around and cheats on their "soulmate", moreover if over and over. It's hard to cope with such deep hurt, and I wish to convey my apologies for my rash hybridized expressions of Anger, Frustration and Hubris. Perhaps it perturbs me so simply because it reminds me of who I once could be and was. Perhaps it irks me so because I'm envious. Again; Polyamory is not a Sin; but before you just go **** someone at least be single or in an open relationship; it isn't only you who is affected by your choices, and I know that's hard to see when you are so young. Don't hold back who you really are, but please; don't cheat others in the process. Not only is Karma a ***** but so can Retribution be; you never know what One scorned is capable of; the next time you cheat someone they may not fall back on mere words; A few more years in this World may teach you that such Anarchy doth go both ways, my dear; Vigilante Justice knows few bounds: Don't take too many chances when it comes to who you **** nor when it comes to who you **** over.
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78
writing songs sans artifice, that grow better different, different better, the lyrics of a man growing older, insides out, featuring his slips, all showing, eyes squinting from hard lifestyle experience, taking on wearied shades of beige yellowing, a tanned blackness, time edits them, so now, they sound the same but holier, from the hazing of hazards one builds for and by himself, drilling & extracting the spit-shine of all that all is fine, but liquor & cat's paw black shoe polish just can't quite cover 'em up (2), the stabbing itch each of the every time one quests and questions his ego, always another test… why would I ever want that? his fingers create tinkling at rapido pace, tinkling an arrhythmia of rhymes previously perviously (1) unseen, self exploration, that we all realize is an unforgiving, never ending, source of melodic crying out loud; and when the sensual, arrayed pleasures, begin to bore holes of no important consequence, the querys~to~self get even harder to explicate what they intimate, who they implicate, which parts of you, failed to answer satisfactorily… why would I want want that forever?
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Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC
I don't want to be Billy Joel
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations   Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations Umbrage ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
0
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Synergy
A sadness deepens itself into the center of my body An uncontrolling undesired sadness That meanders my heart & perturbs my mind An uneasy feeling of grievous loss heaves into me I feel repulsed by these unfortunate feelings & I'm trying to will them to leave I cannot explicate this harrowing pain that dredges in my mirthless soul. I am crying out for comfort Because my desolate-being is overwhelmed with grief For I have been mislead by someone I thought I could trust But they were disgraceful & abused my solicitudity And now I'm sitting here baffled Because who knew.. That you could make me feel so terror-stricken I trusted you to keep me safe when I told you my sacred secret... The one secret that ruined me completely But this goes to show, that you cannot trust anyone But yourself.
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Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
Pensive
Is an old poem of mine that I tender to you to turn your mind away for just, even just, a few minutes from the sadness and the depression that I read about in poem after poem.  I am an old man whose sighs are recorded in the lines on his hands.  It will be better. You will be loved. Be brave. Lead to Gold, Philosopher to Poets When the philosophers abandoned castle turrets for ivory towers, lost was the secret of I and thou, of turning lead to gold, but these cagey, canny scholars in new residences, who traded perspicacity for pensions, before they left, they tasked to the poets, a singular task, cloaking them in a life long responsibility charging them as follows: Be the harpooners of the unexamined life, with unfettered rhaposdy, exhort the loopy to light candles of illusions, canonize the nursing mothers to deliver us the kinder Ishmael's who will revel, lead us with warmth and apprehension, with the strength of sinews fixed and flexible, we will believe and they will teach the rest of us that the first commandment is to empathize. **with clinical observation, dense and demanding, make us laugh at the comedy of our situation, the comedy of our conscience, our free to see, the peep show of us, explicate and deconstruct our unexamined lives, help us to extend the boundaries, record the voyages of our timepieces, declare us all free and victors, file away the chains of language and declare us all poets**
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Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
For those of you who can't sleep, troubled and aching, here is an old
Be a harpooner of the unexamined life, with unfettered rhaposdy, exhort the loopy to light candles of illusions, canonize the nursing mothers to deliver us the kinder Ishmael's who will revel, lead us with warmth and apprehension, with the strength of sinews fixed and flexible, we will believe and they will teach the rest of us that the first commandment is to empathize. with clinical observation, dense and demanding, make us laugh at the comedy of our situation, the comedy of our conscience, our free to see, the peep show of us, explicate and deconstruct our unexamined lives, help us to extend the boundaries, record the voyages of our timepieces, declare us all free and victors, file away the chains of language and declare us all poets
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
You! Pledge that you will
Called-up to muster on the streets, Lay siege with pencils and paper shields, Place couplet sentries on every corner, March in-step with iambic feet, Shoulder prosaic figures of speech. Launch antithesis and irony, Landmine metaphors and similes. The poets engage guerilla warfare, Surrounding the body politic To water board with words and wit. Our units are indeterminate, Smearing ink for camouflage. Be wary of everyone you meet, Every tree lining your street; We're making notes in small black pads, To explicate the nots and haves. Pens are shovels digging trenches, Editing walls and blue pencilling fences, Giving refuge to the marginalized, From the onslaught of towering directives. We're parading in our uniforms, Raising banners, ragged and torn, Calling on all to weather the storm, To brace against cyclonic edicts That swirl and funnel from posturing egots.
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Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
Attention, Private First-Class Poet
I try to elucidate your gaze from across the room What do you think? What do you see? What events replay in your memories? I want to explicate your movements as you shift in your seat A worried bite of your lip? A sigh of fatigue? How would you act if you thought of me? I steer my thoughts back to something more germane to the subject The Union loss at Antietam Creek But then you open your mouth to speak- And I think of orchestras the instruments and sounds moving, flowing together I think of night thousands of stars flooding the sky I think of poems that I can't begin to understand but all so lovely I think of wolves howling flowers blooming waves receding I think of the wind blowing between my fingers while my hand rests outside the window of your truck And I think of you. I always think of you.
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
U.S. History
**"Love... It comes,—the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity,—        In silence and alone        To seek the elected one."** Wadsworth Longfellow <> forgive me, Henry, for tampering with thy perfect, these words provoke a restless, hard earned, smouldering and enflaming, imperfected, unasked, unsought, yearning to explain, share, complete, abbreviate, lengthen and explicate, my version, my coloration, my coronation, from the end of ceaseless, repetitive waves of wanting completion forty years in the desert, four hundred year in ******* in Egyptian exile, boul der chained, uphill climber, amazes me even now, how did I desire to breathe, arose to contemplate, perplexed, why was I placed on this star, skin branded dissatisfied, a human being, unratified, unconstituted just another love song, just another poem, certainly no better, and surely worse, than the  thousands of thousands that preceded, and the thousand more that will come by nightfall surrender - I cannot surpass what lies below acknowledge respectfully, the luckless, the loveless despair can dissipate, as hard to believe, as hard as the unendurable, I counsel not hard patience, instead, awake forever impatient, irresolutely hardy and ravenous, for what will come your way, when I cannot say, but this I know, you are an elected, selected one, and **It comes,—the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity,—        In silence and alone        To seek the elected one** 8:21am Aug. 27, 2016 <>
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Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
Love - the crown of all humanity
**"Love... It comes,—the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity,—        In silence and alone        To seek the elected one."** Wadsworth Longfellow <> forgive me, Henry, for tampering with thy perfect, these words provoke a restless, hard earned, smouldering and enflaming, imperfected, unasked, unsought, yearning to explain, share, complete, abbreviate, lengthen and explicate, my version, my coloration, my coronation, from the end of ceaseless, repetitive waves of wanting completion forty years in the desert, four hundred year in ******* in Egyptian exile, boul der chained, uphill climber, amazes me even now, how did I desire to breathe, arose to contemplate, perplexed, why was I placed on this star, skin branded dissatisfied, a human being, unratified, unconstituted just another love song, just another poem, certainly no better, and surely worse, than the  thousands of thousands that preceded, and the thousand more that will come by nightfall surrender - I cannot surpass what lies below acknowledge respectfully, the luckless, the loveless despair can dissipate, as hard to believe, as hard as the unendurable, I counsel not hard patience, instead, awake forever impatient, irresolutely hardy and ravenous, for what will come your way, when I cannot say, but this I know, you are an elected, selected one, and **It comes,—the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity,—        In silence and alone        To seek the elected one** 8:21am Aug. 27, 2016 <>
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52
Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugue-ness, estranged ensemble orchestrations and all.  Similar states of analogous configuration and ancillary subordinateness in fact.  Various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.  Preterite orchestration renditions of synthetic synthesis’ retrospectively retroactive.  Accidence ambience acoustics, aorist actuator’s arbitrational attenuation.  Explicate eventuation evocative expletives, amalgamated anathema android wind up toys.  Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity!  Enigma entity’s identity crisis.
0
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
Transpositional Interlude
I beseech of thee, deck of Seventy-Eight, perhaps some insight, or at least a "Gee **** First of three: Five of Pentacles Secondly: Page of Wands And, to conclude: The Fool My gut feeling: **** yeah. ~~ I shall explicate later; at present, I must prepare for a gig in Folsom. :D
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Dabbling in Divination [Tarot] III
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations   Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations Umbrage ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
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Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Synergy
Oh the nonsense, oh the foolishness, Of being alone. Loneliness is a choice right? So why do I choose, To roam alone? Allow me to explicate….. There is no need to create Another being Only for the feeling Of a friend But I’ve learn that as long as I have my daily bread I’ll learn to survive And hopefully thrive For I won’t have the distraction Of watching my actions In order to not undo any relation. I rather pursue a written creation Than another friendship just for the sensation
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May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Friendship
the butler brought in the tray of libations and it seemed her ******* were thinking me as I thanked him and wondered if I must choose between his unfamiliar hug             or her gaudy **** so I moseyed over to a corner and tried to explicate the dinner gong tolling across the mansion's badlands like strident smacks ringing out of a masochist's dungeon-- I could almost hear the **** Piper getting paid or asking to be-- Well, I guess, after all, she was holding my tray, wasn't he?
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
A DRUNKEN JOHN BERRYMAN AT A COCKTAIL PARTY
~~~ for Sjr1000 and his proffered invitation ~~~ delve and dive, smack lip tasting each line we drop over the side, as if it each worm is a new word first time heard or ever écrit explicate and parse the shape, the portent, looking for the double mystery, the wisdom and the plaisir of two minds cojoining our poems, indeed, every one a  product of a stainless steal shiny can of worms, so strikes me when, that fishing trip day est arrivée the worms will be of the glo variety, whom when pole dipped, will be like chocolate treats for catching poetry fish, to rapture capture new reciprocity recipes share and delight, comparing size, whose is most luminescent, tumescent, whose poems will taste most délicieuse men fishin n' writing male bonding, stainless steel strong, a men friendly completion competition, you bring the worms in a cancan, I'll bring the cannes à pêche^ they'll accuse of being heinous poets turned into collaborateurs, to which we'll laugh responding in unison, for sure, bien sûr!
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Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
We're just going to have to open one more can of worms
Another tradgedy I scrape myself up off the floor yet again pooling what Left I can catch of me before it seeps into the surrounds dignity and faith these are all I have even hope seems a mountain too sheer to climb the next time I’ll pray for death or some reason to explicate it all what use is there when fractals are all that remain of my higher self a mass of confusion of bits repeated over and at different angles too shattered to come together cleanly or even orderly a disarrangement of shards shoved into a dark sheath labeled Eve to be used and abused trapped by patriarchy of the foul unrighteous kind she endures because she can she is strength she is in all things grand but one weakness is all it takes to wash my blood off your hands and when all the bits of her are grains of sand only faith can keep her together as she crumbles to oblivion defiant and stoic they try to delete her still bits of her remain and conscience will engulf the sowers of injustice and her birth is her day of clarity outside of deception She will be renewed And in the universe she will conspire once again to prove the depth of her strength and return The rites of love to those it was stolen from.
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Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
Her again
I'm so tired of being jaded my direction is belated beat to the punch by self-berate-ment that's well deserved I've found so much meaning in giving you meaning, you all I've sounded so meaning in being so meaning-ful I'm so tired of being tired and running my head through the wall in my head so why can't I do the real thing and from imagination spring into light of day I'm so tired of being hated my own soul is complicated so how can I help you explicate it when I'm self killing to fear I guess it's all a fairy tail that I love to tell so well I try to give you hope and yet I'm standing in the hailstorm of my own constructed misery I never told you lies, but are these my own two eyes I only meant the best
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Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
Therapy 3 (lyrics)
Tonight I want first to explicate and delve into the many ways that I will love you through ever so many days. And afterwards to situate the softest, and warmest touch of lips like a painters wet brush onto new canvas. To seep into you like a vocalists voice into new lyric. To flow with you akin a dancer gliding through the motions of a grand romance, an oeuvre cowritten by you and I performed through the night.
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 12:48 AM UTC
De la Nuit
I sit often in my bed, wishing for inspiration to melt its way from my heart into my fingertips which click against the keys on this machine to form words that get jumbled in my brain, that I may untangle their knots and loosen their grip just enough that the ache in my forehead subsides, and the weight on my chest is lifted even a little. Most of the time, whatever reactions are supposed to happen in me, whatever connections are supposed to form don’t, and I continue to ache until the numbness sets in. I handle emotions alone. I don’t seek attention. I don’t want the weakness. I don’t reach out, because I got sick of the sting of each slap that shouldn’t have surprised me. I love being alone; In fact, I crave it, but I miss the social sense of belonging that used to balance me out. I want to grasp a hand that is stretched out to me for a change, but the air is always empty. Even as I type this I am running out of words that explicate the cause of the dyspnea that overwhelms me at abrupt, random moments, and my ability to form lucid, complete thoughts is lost. How do you wipe a wound that isn’t even bleeding? How do you heal a bone that isn’t even broken? How to you fix a muscle that isn’t even torn? I am not fragmented. I am not cracked. I am not damaged, yet something in me is still leaking, seeking something more. I am not standing in the darkness; I am just waiting for this sun to shed light on a soul that knows when to reach out and when to let me be.
0
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 10:31 PM UTC
Extroverted Introversion
I sit often in my bed, wishing for inspiration to melt its way from my heart into my fingertips which click against the keys on this machine to form words that get jumbled in my brain, that I may untangle their knots and loosen their grip just enough that the ache in my forehead subsides, and the weight on my chest is lifted even a little. Most of the time, whatever reactions are supposed to happen in me, whatever connections are supposed to form don’t, and I continue to ache until the numbness sets in. I handle emotions alone. I don’t seek attention. I don’t want the weakness. I don’t reach out, because I got sick of the sting of each slap that shouldn’t have surprised me. I love being alone; In fact, I crave it, but I miss the social sense of belonging that used to balance me out. I want to grasp a hand that is stretched out to me for a change, but the air is always empty. Even as I type this I am running out of words that explicate the cause of the dyspnea that overwhelms me at abrupt, random moments, and my ability to form lucid, complete thoughts is lost. How do you wipe a wound that isn’t even bleeding? How do you heal a bone that isn’t even broken? How to you fix a muscle that isn’t even torn? I am not fragmented. I am not cracked. I am not damaged, yet something in me is still leaking, seeking something more. I am not standing in the darkness; I am just waiting for this sun to shed light on a soul that knows when to reach out and when to let me be.
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45
some sounds and guttural expressions, unique property of individual & groups, no, won’t explicate this   too much further but… anyhoo, in the realm of naked laughter , undisguised, unhooded, a modest-ly hand-covered giggle, primarly but not exclusively, the propety of the feminine wile, so much so, a ‘girlish giggle’ needs no hyphenation, or hydration, just  imagining grinning eyes and lips, crinkling and the ability to easy while through one’s nose breathing well understood it is the la feminine, this witty twitty in the provence, of women, particularly the younger at heart who titter with the glee of reckless uninhibited unlimited gig-gig-gigl-ling-ling (N.B. young st heart is an ageless concept) the Frenchies in their Frenchified (1) (alt.; frenchfried) ways call a giggle, a puff of laughter, (2) which sounds so modestly ladylike, but in the US of A, a girl giggle, a really good GG, needs not be so demure, and can possibly extend into a raucous cackling infectious, yet discreet uncontrollable belly slapping laugh, given the kerrect circumstances love me them GG’s
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Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 9:18 AM UTC
A good girl giggle (A girl giggles good)
Would it be wrong for me to write you a poem of commendation? Would it be wrong for me to appraise your delicate temptation? Would it be wrong for me to be fond of your attraction? Would it be wrong for me to explicate my affection? Would it be wrong for me craving for your attention? Would it be wrong for me to tease you with conviction? Would it be wrong for me asking you to be on my own? Would it be wrong for me? Would it be wrong? Would it be? Would all these prayers be praised and well spoken?
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Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 12:12 PM UTC
Prayers
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations   Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations Umbral ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
0
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 7:04 PM UTC
Synergy
The other day, To my dismay, I came across a newt. In my attempts, To explicate, Off that newt did shoot. http://tansyroake.weebly.com/
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Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
New Word Poem 12 – Explicate
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations   Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations Umbral ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
0
Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 12:02 AM UTC
Synergy