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"faithlessness" poems
your body, the drain plug, that climactic days of a day murky sweet strawberry milk water ebbs and sways around, surrounds, and surmounts you Your body the dumping ground for pretty poppy seeds seep, steep seeded somewhere deep as synthetic stinging metaphor rain pours on your mistreated singing skin spotted, dotted, synaptic rule akin to lemon poppy seed muffin tops your head- a top spins round and mimics never-ending bath drain whirlpool ambulances and ambivalences soundtrack this nocturne night of a morning mourning already my poor lost sister a little less than intact lost in her head I'm loosing her and she's nodding and she's nodding and she's nodding and she's nodding and she nods and grumbles, fumbles for words that aren't there four words that aren't there forward isn't there because what do you say about matters when your high and breathing last breaths overlapping in humble showers in heart crumbling nakedness your faithlessness trapping murky sweet strawberry milk waters.
0
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
strawberry milk
Gun in one hand, bible in the other. Is not the word a sword? Why need for a gun too? Or is it a justification to **** The same as a rocket launcher on one shoulder, and the koran in the other hand. Or a flag in one hand, and a sword in the other. The image says justified intimidation. Fear me, for I have the Authority. But really, the Authority is only as valid as there are fools who submit. And the only true authority is the gun, or sword, as you certainly know it. And the flag, or bible, or the koran, are but for your own conscience. or cover for your lack thereof. The bible and the gun: an oxymoron; a display of faithlessness, the defilement of holiness, a blasphemous act; affirming the proud fool you are, that says in its heart, there is no God!
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May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 4:51 AM UTC
Oxymoron
The rain kept pouring in vain and no one seems to know the lain The sorrow of labor lines the root But the root appears in subjection For no one could carry the element Far flung on yonder, long ago! Come to me with sheer of love in the passion of dream told long a while To be true in the cradle of sorrow keeps the wing of imagination, obvious No regrets befall the stand of affection For the sun mixes the rain with bright colors The moon does not need to fight same road well traveled for purpose And when destined for the reality of time Beseemed by faithlessness renewed 'Abraka da bra' the farmer wails in sorrow Hope not disparaged as the time tells Let the beauty of nature not betrayed with passion the blender carries up the smoke Beneath the flame of mercy of yesteryears How true the giver grants to him of goodwill With appreciation though sometimes convincing For the sun shines in the midst of rain How long shall they kick the prophets cause he gat no voice to cry the woes Sublime the hours to come forth With a smile covered in gratitude Wake up no need for trial of tears For the sun shines as overshadow.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
When the Sun Smiles
If you listen with the ears of women or of devils, but have hate, you are only a muffled drum or a muted trumpet. If you don't have the ignorance and can't fathom all known things and no ignorance, and if you don't have faithlessness which cant move a molehill, and if you don't have hate, You are everything.   If you take all you lack from the rich and take under your spirit of ease that you never boast of, but have hate, you lose everything.
0
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
31:3-1 Spartans
Last night, At the moment between sanity and dream, The conjuring I had acquired to keep you caged Was cancelled by a stronger spell. For even after years, You came unbidden to my bed, And tempted love into regret. Even here; within a bedroom you were Banished from by my desire, You found a way to lie Your ghost beside me, And possess the still and sleeping form Of yet another stranger by my side. When you first left, To live apart through our Shared motion of the sun, Destroying days with dark mementoes, And nights with savage wakefulness Where all alone, I had invoked The Furies, to pursue your faithlessness Through every hope you treasured And held dear, Fear of my wish for your decay Had marked each day, With lies to mutual friends, Who heard I wished you well. Yet even now; I burn within the hell Which I unleashed for you. © James Rainsford 2010
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Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 9:13 AM UTC
Song for an ex wife
Spells of immaculacy, enamored by divine blasphemy Oh, the glamour of defeat; Illuminating my delusional illusions of grandeur. The facade erected in the name of my dissonant lunacy - Replenished to diminish, ease the tension while I watch the world around me burn Ascension/ With purification, the nameless and faceless yearning for the knowledge God blesses upon his prophets Rather burning in oblivion, fate earned by blind devotion and faithlessness. Only time can tell, when shall we separate ourselves from this abomination? For only from the ashes of chaos brings forth the promise of creation - Salvation bathed in blinding light Only with open eyes will one see an end for which there is no sight. Eradicate your spite and take a deep look inside yourself It is only then you will ultimately find you are the sole Creator, of your own Paradise, and of your own Hell. Call this my dissertation on a nation rife with desensitization. Certainly plagued by monitors and screens, can your hear their screams? Why, but of course not. We fear no evil. The evil is unseen. - Lying in wait behind the prospect of the American Dream. The interests of the men lurking behind the curtain permeating our everyday ideology - Lulling ourselves into a false sense of security Why question such a monumental absurdity? Too distracted even to leave our homes. Our minds have been effectively infected and collectively we've turned ourselves into drones. Reclaim your mind, Or in time you will surely incur horrors I perceive worse than Death; The beast has swallowed you whole. Mind only your indulgence of all that is true and you will find that which is eternal bliss. I'm impatient and far from complacent with a world so blatantly detrimental to itself. Allow your wisdom to be your might, lest we continue to arbitrarily pass judgement amongst ourselves.
0
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Wisdom is Power (6-18-13)
Spells of immaculacy, enamored by divine blasphemy Oh, the glamour of defeat; Illuminating my delusional illusions of grandeur. The facade erected in the name of my dissonant lunacy - Replenished to diminish, ease the tension while I watch the world around me burn Ascension/ With purification, the nameless and faceless yearning for the knowledge God blesses upon his prophets Rather burning in oblivion, fate earned by blind devotion and faithlessness. Only time can tell, when shall we separate ourselves from this abomination? For only from the ashes of chaos brings forth the promise of creation - Salvation bathed in blinding light Only with open eyes will one see an end for which there is no sight. Eradicate your spite and take a deep look inside yourself It is only then you will ultimately find you are the sole Creator, of your own Paradise, and of your own Hell. Call this my dissertation on a nation rife with desensitization. Certainly plagued by monitors and screens, can your hear their screams? Why, but of course not. We fear no evil. The evil is unseen. - Lying in wait behind the prospect of the American Dream. The interests of the men lurking behind the curtain permeating our everyday ideology - Lulling ourselves into a false sense of security Why question such a monumental absurdity? Too distracted even to leave our homes. Our minds have been effectively infected and collectively we've turned ourselves into drones. Reclaim your mind, Or in time you will surely incur horrors I perceive worse than Death; The beast has swallowed you whole. Mind only your indulgence of all that is true and you will find that which is eternal bliss. I'm impatient and far from complacent with a world so blatantly detrimental to itself. Allow your wisdom to be your might, lest we continue to arbitrarily pass judgement amongst ourselves.
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44
twinkle wrinkles, seen close up they are the tracks of wind driven tears on a sunburned face, at the edges of the eye, past the per if ery of what perfidy* made you think you saw. come see how come we saw too far and fell from grace to glory. That is the story. The good new on the old new built bottom up, like Gobekli-Tepi. --- horizons past the lusters after wisdom's arcane quarry --- we live, we learn, we die to know why and we do as soon as forever starts it never stopped, hence, forever is what we agree it is. This, now we remain in until we die, moments from now, then, now breathe or don't ultimately, whence comes the will to breathe? go on, answer. or ignor, innocence is no excuse, you know. these quest ions all have positive and negative points, anionics seek cationics, OHOH, what if cathode rays never got past the atmosphere, those are causing all the static-info-friction Bad vibe waves corrupting the qualcommsplitfreqs, left from millions of hours of I love Lucy and Dobie Gillis. Mr. Kruschev, build a wall. Show our boys their counterparts failing to escape, crucified on barbed wire west of the Brandenburg Gate, Bel's gate, arche de tri'umph, eh? Confusion won the war, but war won't work here. NULL ified it, we did, into the NULL with all its lies each time we catch one. As good as never was. *Poet's Policy of acknowledging previous ignorances, acts of ignoring resulting, effectively, in wasted years perfidy (n.) means since 1590s, from Middle French perfidie (16c.), from Latin perfidia  "faithlessness, falsehood, treachery," from perfidus"faithless," from phrase per fidem decipere  "to deceive through trustingness," from per "through" (from PIE root *per- (1) "forward," hence "through") + fidem (nominative fides) "faith" (from PIE root *bheidh- "to trust, confide, persuade"). [C]ombinations of wickedness would overwhelm the world by the advantage which licentious principles afford, did not those who have long practiced perfidy grow faithless to each other. [Samuel Johnson, "Life of Waller"] From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/perfidy#etymonline_v_12685>
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
Smile Lines
twinkle wrinkles, seen close up they are the tracks of wind driven tears on a sunburned face, at the edges of the eye, past the per if ery of what perfidy* made you think you saw. come see how come we saw too far and fell from grace to glory. That is the story. The good new on the old new built bottom up, like Gobekli-Tepi. --- horizons past the lusters after wisdom's arcane quarry --- we live, we learn, we die to know why and we do as soon as forever starts it never stopped, hence, forever is what we agree it is. This, now we remain in until we die, moments from now, then, now breathe or don't ultimately, whence comes the will to breathe? go on, answer. or ignor, innocence is no excuse, you know. these quest ions all have positive and negative points, anionics seek cationics, OHOH, what if cathode rays never got past the atmosphere, those are causing all the static-info-friction Bad vibe waves corrupting the qualcommsplitfreqs, left from millions of hours of I love Lucy and Dobie Gillis. Mr. Kruschev, build a wall. Show our boys their counterparts failing to escape, crucified on barbed wire west of the Brandenburg Gate, Bel's gate, arche de tri'umph, eh? Confusion won the war, but war won't work here. NULL ified it, we did, into the NULL with all its lies each time we catch one. As good as never was. *Poet's Policy of acknowledging previous ignorances, acts of ignoring resulting, effectively, in wasted years perfidy (n.) means since 1590s, from Middle French perfidie (16c.), from Latin perfidia  "faithlessness, falsehood, treachery," from perfidus"faithless," from phrase per fidem decipere  "to deceive through trustingness," from per "through" (from PIE root *per- (1) "forward," hence "through") + fidem (nominative fides) "faith" (from PIE root *bheidh- "to trust, confide, persuade"). [C]ombinations of wickedness would overwhelm the world by the advantage which licentious principles afford, did not those who have long practiced perfidy grow faithless to each other. [Samuel Johnson, "Life of Waller"] From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/perfidy#etymonline_v_12685>
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47
She takes a half a century To ready up to go; He stamps his feet and grumbles... Then stifles, 'cause he knows She's faithful... Faithfully she loves; Faithfully she's true; It's a better life to love A girl who's always slow... Contentment comes To those who know... Faithfulness. =================== Always she is ready, Looking mighty fine... With her, life is heady Roses, *** and wine, But still he's feeling low... With him or not, her heart's not true, And every man is game. Always empty, wanting more, She paws the door and wears the floor... Faithlessness. -------------------------------------- He hangs his head these lonely days She's gone to greener grass, Because his penchant kept his eyes On making one more pass, "A little candy before lunch," He liked to joke around, No woman ever felt it safe, To let her guarding down. Meanwhile his wife waits up at home, While he is working late. So sadly married to a man who roams Breaking vows and tempting fate. ========================= He's tired and he's growing old A little stooped and bent, His hair's receding now, and gray, His working days are almost spent, And yet she knows he's done his best... He's fought his battles, nearly lost a few, But found his love held faithful, true, And so she holds his hand and stays Faithful to her man and loves him, too. The comfort these two know in later days, The quiet peace of coming home to stay, Are interest and dividends, The priceless benefits she pays... Faithfulness.
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Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
Faith - A Juxtaposition
She takes a half a century To ready up to go; He stamps his feet and grumbles... Then stifles, 'cause he knows She's faithful... Faithfully she loves; Faithfully she's true; It's a better life to love A girl who's always slow... Contentment comes To those who know... Faithfulness. =================== Always she is ready, Looking mighty fine... With her, life is heady Roses, *** and wine, But still he's feeling low... With him or not, her heart's not true, And every man is game. Always empty, wanting more, She paws the door and wears the floor... Faithlessness. -------------------------------------- He hangs his head these lonely days She's gone to greener grass, Because his penchant kept his eyes On making one more pass, "A little candy before lunch," He liked to joke around, No woman ever felt it safe, To let her guarding down. Meanwhile his wife waits up at home, While he is working late. So sadly married to a man who roams Breaking vows and tempting fate. ========================= He's tired and he's growing old A little stooped and bent, His hair's receding now, and gray, His working days are almost spent, And yet she knows he's done his best... He's fought his battles, nearly lost a few, But found his love held faithful, true, And so she holds his hand and stays Faithful to her man and loves him, too. The comfort these two know in later days, The quiet peace of coming home to stay, Are interest and dividends, The priceless benefits she pays... Faithfulness.
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51
Hope so often feels foolish A belief of reasons, purpose Such a dismaying risk to trust But in doubting, what if we sin? If indifference is potentially easier And our desires are left without expectation Are we merely protected from possible disappointment Or are we trashing our faith in God's abilities to keep us free?
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Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Faithlessness
Eyes flickered like dancing flame Our desires untamed Unyielding Enrapturing and bringing about weightlessness I long to escape to this timeless place only we create So surreal and shapeless This passion kills the faithlessness Exhaling the dark matters Willing a change in the seer and patterns My soul cried out a plea Never take this heaven away from me
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Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
Mystified
You've never changed And your unfathomable number of wrongs have never changed intentions. Do you wish that I in return, Solicit faithlessness? So you may feel As if I'm really not as high as the matured stars, But a stick in the childish mud, like you? Tell me why would I want To ever change my intentions.
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Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 1:08 PM UTC
Solicit Faithlessness
you will be the death of this frigid soul! how i long for togetherness and sincerity, and the patience to hold out for what this heart longs for most! i must hold out, i am a mere branch on the Vine of all life! there must be more to my temporal, trivial, petty suffering. nothing will resound until i begin to shed these layers of self hatred, faithlessness, and indulgence. i have shed my fearful skin.
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Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
excess!
The lamplit page is turned, the dream forgotten; The music changes tone, you wake, remember Deep worlds you lived before,--deep worlds hereafter Of leaf on falling leaf, music on music, Rain and sorrow and wind and dust and laughter. Helen was late and Miriam came too soon. Joseph was dead, his wife and children starving. Elaine was married and soon to have a child. You dreamed last night of fiddler-crabs with fiddles; They played a buzzing melody, and you smiled. To-morrow--what? And what of yesterday? Through soundless labyrinths of dream you pass, Through many doors to the one door of all. Soon as it's opened we shall hear a music: Or see a skeleton fall . . . We walk with you. Where is it that you lead us? We climb the muffled stairs beneath high lanterns. We descend again. We ***** through darkened cells. You say: this darkness, here, will slowly **** me. It creeps and weighs upon me . . . Is full of bells. This is the thing remembered I would forget-- No matter where I go, how soft I tread, This windy gesture menaces me with death. Fatigue! it says, and points its finger at me; Touches my throat and stops my breath. My fans--my jewels--the portrait of my husband-- The torn certificate for my daughter's grave-- These are but mortal seconds in immortal time. They brush me, fade away: like drops of water. They signify no crime. Let us retrace our steps: I have deceived you: Nothing is here I could not frankly tell you: No hint of guilt, or faithlessness, or threat. Dreams--they are madness. Staring eyes--illusion. Let us return, hear music, and forget . . .
0
832
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 03: Haunted Chambers
The lamplit page is turned, the dream forgotten; The music changes tone, you wake, remember Deep worlds you lived before,--deep worlds hereafter Of leaf on falling leaf, music on music, Rain and sorrow and wind and dust and laughter. Helen was late and Miriam came too soon. Joseph was dead, his wife and children starving. Elaine was married and soon to have a child. You dreamed last night of fiddler-crabs with fiddles; They played a buzzing melody, and you smiled. To-morrow--what? And what of yesterday? Through soundless labyrinths of dream you pass, Through many doors to the one door of all. Soon as it's opened we shall hear a music: Or see a skeleton fall . . . We walk with you. Where is it that you lead us? We climb the muffled stairs beneath high lanterns. We descend again. We ***** through darkened cells. You say: this darkness, here, will slowly **** me. It creeps and weighs upon me . . . Is full of bells. This is the thing remembered I would forget-- No matter where I go, how soft I tread, This windy gesture menaces me with death. Fatigue! it says, and points its finger at me; Touches my throat and stops my breath. My fans--my jewels--the portrait of my husband-- The torn certificate for my daughter's grave-- These are but mortal seconds in immortal time. They brush me, fade away: like drops of water. They signify no crime. Let us retrace our steps: I have deceived you: Nothing is here I could not frankly tell you: No hint of guilt, or faithlessness, or threat. Dreams--they are madness. Staring eyes--illusion. Let us return, hear music, and forget . . .
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35
A cry for battle Issues forth from your wicked mouth, And finds a way to my ear. I accept the challenge. I will break your heart. When darkness you need, I will cast a light Upon your duplicity And broadcast your faithlessness Into the dark of a stormy night. The snow globe will shatter, The one you keep on the end of a ceptor as you prim over golden walls laden with your uselessness. Sidelong glances await you, And shouts from the street, Though not the one you want. Anger will crack your face. Nobody will care. Solidity has melted away from all the heat; and you’ll retreat Down into a hole to hide With all the crawlers, But even they will not abide Because of your lies. They won't sympathize With your short eyes.
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
I've Got Your Covfefe Under My Skin
Solemn and fervent kisses Of the past Beholden unto memories Of golden yesteryears In your mind In my eyes The laughing lies Of unborn sighs Figure the future Inside an hourglass Amused and bewildered But bending reflexes The body that cries In the faithlessness That refuses to die, Is the same body Whose thoughts run In discord Without ties….. I see you And you see me, naught Caught in amazement On the webs of a maze You tell me What I must decree But how can you When we both can’t be The words to a windsong In the fall of the summer long
0
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
Unborn Sighs
It seems that I awoke one day, To a life I did not recognize. And plodded forward anyway, With desperate, frightened eyes. To view the world afresh; anew, With shaking hands and fear. Strangers plenty and friends few, No familiar hand to wipe a tear. And teaching myself I trudged on, Making all too often a mistake, Until all my belief in me was gone, And I had made my own heart break. I had turned away those who were true, Assumed they had a dark, hidden side. And as in my past life, I trusted very few, No one knows me because of my pride. I could venture out and nomad roam, And struggle for truth, not to falter, But know I would still not find a home, For my faithlessness just will not alter.
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Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 6:54 PM UTC
Unchangeable
This cloak of self-deception blocked the light So shades of darkness were all I could see. While the radiance of truth shined so bright, Intensity of blackness blinded me. A sorry past saw all future as lies, And faithlessness had closed my every door. While I knew light was just beyond my eyes, My dead soul would not let me see once more. But hope’s the curse of a defiant mind! My need for love begged my heart to let go. Accustomed to the darkness, I was blind, When I looked at my future’s shining glow. Squinting I let my faithful eyes adjust, To happiness beyond me I should trust.
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 4:56 PM UTC
Sonnet To Squinting At True Happiness
A kind note From an old friend Is something that Can take your faithlessness In all of it And turn it all Right on its *** For when I read These kind Planned Or Unplanned Lines of day to day life I see They see The same crippling sea Of pain and Poverty Out there as well as Inside here What that means to me I can't say But to share on the page Simply And plainly On living On fighting On loving and On losing Sharing what it means Just to be
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Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 12:16 AM UTC
An Old Note From an Old Friend
I still remember The days of loneliness You found me and promised That you will never leave me nor forsake me I remember The days of embracement You let me be part of a community And even become one of the leaders of it I remember The days of exploration You sent me to different nations For me to grow and experience You more I remember The days of rejoicing You helped me to become a civil engineer Despite my shortcomings I remember The days of failures You did not grow tired of me Even though everyone left me I remember The days of faithlessness You still remain faithful Because you cannot disown Yourself I remember The days of mourning You were there to listen To my never-ending self-pity And now, The days of deliverance I remember You The One who saves
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Savior
Dramaturgy 1 I believe in the sound of the fall but before the annunciation, a force did not see the brink of all ends. The polarizing image before us: this wall that has no hue. This wall that seeks to be tarnished. To tether a name. To spring it open with premise. It is coming face to face with a familiar haunt. Strange that it has no name but you remember it from the feel of its touch, the malaise of hands upon stroking the contour, the catatonic stupor of time in fluid standstill when it is said that "It does not get any better than this.", the belief of questions and the faithlessness of answers. He is ready. 2 Thus is the physiognomy: a look so dismantled. The fragile bent of its source. A body, a body of sound treading a straight path backed by centrifugal inertia -- of speed so full and tender with blurs, the end is seen and will soon be met: patience, patience is all and the skies are impossible. She sees all this, takes cues as pain makes him more so, the one anxiously flailing in space. 3 Confess in utter space that the absolute is ideal. The process distills the heavy water of this revenge. There is nothing like this, as there is nothing the identical in your side of the Earth now, or your bed, where you are cut above yourself and across. This is the body realized. To quantify space, to resign to its bleakness, to take all of this and let it flow into the river, to the brink of all the noise, to where light will fall squarely without tremors or erasures. 4 Intent runs with me this evening straight to a place where nothing will be found, no one will be marked in this map. This light so insufficient still guiding, bleeding a borrowed sheen from the **** of evening. Intent is everything, be it a consignment to void. 5 He will repeat what was written in solemnity, in front of the mirror. 6 They will see it falsely, take it as heavy dreaming when he should have convinced himself to be awake. A laudable insistence may be perceived as a conscious labour to survivability, alone, together -- no difference will be met, no criteria to victories will be set. This is all for disappearance, the pursuit is a lie, and to continue this, the irony. 7 Desired impression: tomorrow you will emerge naked and wear me as something a perfume does to skin, or warmth does to bones. Look, when the Sun rises from its deep grave of hills, its vertical crawl will leave no trace in other regions of land, of body. Somewhere in the ornate someone washes the surrounding with a recognizable fragrance. This is all drawn to a possibility: something the world has no use for
0
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
Dramaturgy
Dramaturgy 1 I believe in the sound of the fall but before the annunciation, a force did not see the brink of all ends. The polarizing image before us: this wall that has no hue. This wall that seeks to be tarnished. To tether a name. To spring it open with premise. It is coming face to face with a familiar haunt. Strange that it has no name but you remember it from the feel of its touch, the malaise of hands upon stroking the contour, the catatonic stupor of time in fluid standstill when it is said that "It does not get any better than this.", the belief of questions and the faithlessness of answers. He is ready. 2 Thus is the physiognomy: a look so dismantled. The fragile bent of its source. A body, a body of sound treading a straight path backed by centrifugal inertia -- of speed so full and tender with blurs, the end is seen and will soon be met: patience, patience is all and the skies are impossible. She sees all this, takes cues as pain makes him more so, the one anxiously flailing in space. 3 Confess in utter space that the absolute is ideal. The process distills the heavy water of this revenge. There is nothing like this, as there is nothing the identical in your side of the Earth now, or your bed, where you are cut above yourself and across. This is the body realized. To quantify space, to resign to its bleakness, to take all of this and let it flow into the river, to the brink of all the noise, to where light will fall squarely without tremors or erasures. 4 Intent runs with me this evening straight to a place where nothing will be found, no one will be marked in this map. This light so insufficient still guiding, bleeding a borrowed sheen from the **** of evening. Intent is everything, be it a consignment to void. 5 He will repeat what was written in solemnity, in front of the mirror. 6 They will see it falsely, take it as heavy dreaming when he should have convinced himself to be awake. A laudable insistence may be perceived as a conscious labour to survivability, alone, together -- no difference will be met, no criteria to victories will be set. This is all for disappearance, the pursuit is a lie, and to continue this, the irony. 7 Desired impression: tomorrow you will emerge naked and wear me as something a perfume does to skin, or warmth does to bones. Look, when the Sun rises from its deep grave of hills, its vertical crawl will leave no trace in other regions of land, of body. Somewhere in the ornate someone washes the surrounding with a recognizable fragrance. This is all drawn to a possibility: something the world has no use for
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16
mixtures of disappointment & guilt paired with euphoria & bliss blended together with anticipations & dreams but muddled with expectations & faithlessness.
0
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Untitled
I am on my way to see A quintessential American, To walk where he did, And where he lies. As is our native wont, He ended himself, The final act of violence In a peripatetic life Full of action and Faithlessness and Self-doubt, A quintessential American. Even so, He shared his gift With us, with The world. Shared a vision Sometimes violent And stark, but true. True, at least, For a Quintessential American.
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Oct 17, 2023
Oct 17, 2023 at 5:27 PM UTC
American Dead
like the blind content just not to fall the faithless constantly confessing sins paying lip service to morality ever ready to shoot the enemy, or anyone desirous of faith's mountain moving prowess never really believing literally faithlessness betrayed by gun always on hand shooting into hurricanes when prayers failed
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May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 5:52 AM UTC
My Gun, My God!
Her heartbeat echoes Through the corridors Of my memories. Her aroma intoxicates The fragile essence Of my sobriety Her words resonate Through my mind Over and over Her faithlessness extinguished The raging flame Of my life. I am defeated.
0
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC
I surrender