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"fallowing" poems
Wise scarecrow with Awareness both harrowing and fallowing, wisdom and knowledge. Straw in glove you stand in a field straw man, scarer, protecter of the unseen world, and fields. Kuebiko (崩え彦 "disabled prince") you have no legs to roam,stood out in the wet and cold. You and I Mr scarecrow are alike, no working legs. Afflicted bodily,our minds still know Impaired we are a pair of straw myths Because he stands all day outdoors, he knows everything Because I sit all day indoors, I know time.
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Kuebiko (久延毘古) is the Shinto kami ("god; deity")
I slink through life with tired limbs, Like a zombie that has no need to eat flesh, just shuffle around with to much baggage to hold. I seem lifeless but I can still feel, I feel Anger, sadness,fear,betrayals, and pain, And most the things I can't control I hide. I feel so dead mearly a shell of what was; hallow. I miss who I was strong, and confident, Carefree;Skipping over the bad rejoiceing the good My life was beautiful, as was my attitude. My wonderful life was like a polished wood chair, Strong and steady that chair stood along the others Pain like sandpaper on my life taking the finish off, After a little while I was left bare vulnerable. I could call out for help, but what would that do? It would make me susceptible to judgment, So I curl up and cry like every night, soon Passing out in a damp mess of mascara. Day after day a routine I hate to fallowing, But what choice do I have I don't want you to see. I'll be alright alone I always am, The nightmares I have no longer faze me, The only things that pains me anymore are, The memories that never fade. So I let myself drift along the wave of expectations.
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
An everyday thing
I'm afraid to think I am only moments from a time, where the luster in your eyes and the tilt on your smile are confined to the degrading depreciating nature of my mind. I want to remember you in all your brilliance, in all your defiance in your broken ragged resilience I have spent a life time fallowing lost notions misconceptions at the notion that morality doesn’t come in color, you are the brightest quilt, the most colorful humor, you are a humid summer, you lovely woman my father’s mother. I will hold you tenderly in my wilting memories.
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Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
Tenderly in wilting memory
**Each day passing by in a wild-eyed dash In truth my soul fell aside, but bluer birds still doth call Missed that cardinal harken when I set down my last two cents Kickers of tricks, scroll-ers of myth, bottlers of ships Knew it all along, just couldn’t stiff the rest Refuse to capitol, refuge atop the pious politic that steeps these hills Is it not hard to tell? The meanings of what buys in bulk The people is we, of what sells slicker than plot itself A minority rule, hid reasons from majority fooled That is working trade class, taught to chain drive The gleaming sheen glowing green, crowning jewel¬¬¬ is as mist and steam, fleeting as the wash of this worlds seething seas We, the misanthrope of being, bloom in the warmth of idea Only to recede at the water mark high of each our lives Authenticity bless the distant time, costless venture to each about die, salute through another caesars’ dilated eye a definition Eons in annunciation; immortality flashing by Reverence cannot lie, not long at least neathe a chipping patina Gold leafed by the hand of man, coerced creations’ fondling finger tips strips thin, leaving us then to watch the weathering Not a one may ever remember for too quickly or too timely Arrives dismemberment, a cyclic certainty, often relegated falsely As loss or gain, truly misspoken frames for reference At any given attempt to render the language of tongues, oh speaker the son of the morning shamelessly ****** by predecessors increasingly lavish Phonemic savage; life running rabid, splicing love over the atom The simple one whom tends a patch of what he calls “cabbage” Knowing always the wordless truth that is his field fallowing Unconvinced by everyone, save himself if nothing else Penitent candor dangle, frameless wonder can you hear the thunder?**
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
**The Forth Wheel, The Last Meal**
**Each day passing by in a wild-eyed dash In truth my soul fell aside, but bluer birds still doth call Missed that cardinal harken when I set down my last two cents Kickers of tricks, scroll-ers of myth, bottlers of ships Knew it all along, just couldn’t stiff the rest Refuse to capitol, refuge atop the pious politic that steeps these hills Is it not hard to tell? The meanings of what buys in bulk The people is we, of what sells slicker than plot itself A minority rule, hid reasons from majority fooled That is working trade class, taught to chain drive The gleaming sheen glowing green, crowning jewel¬¬¬ is as mist and steam, fleeting as the wash of this worlds seething seas We, the misanthrope of being, bloom in the warmth of idea Only to recede at the water mark high of each our lives Authenticity bless the distant time, costless venture to each about die, salute through another caesars’ dilated eye a definition Eons in annunciation; immortality flashing by Reverence cannot lie, not long at least neathe a chipping patina Gold leafed by the hand of man, coerced creations’ fondling finger tips strips thin, leaving us then to watch the weathering Not a one may ever remember for too quickly or too timely Arrives dismemberment, a cyclic certainty, often relegated falsely As loss or gain, truly misspoken frames for reference At any given attempt to render the language of tongues, oh speaker the son of the morning shamelessly ****** by predecessors increasingly lavish Phonemic savage; life running rabid, splicing love over the atom The simple one whom tends a patch of what he calls “cabbage” Knowing always the wordless truth that is his field fallowing Unconvinced by everyone, save himself if nothing else Penitent candor dangle, frameless wonder can you hear the thunder?**
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26
I ventured deep in to the mysteries of mother forest alone, when I was free from fears of every kind and sweet delusions, ancient trees recognized me instantly, from some other life past, and sung me songs when I sat exhausted,their fruits tasted sweet made me realize how aftermath of every karma returns to one at a time unexpected; fruits either sweet or bitter they bring. Under the shades, of trees,hearing the  lullabies they sung I slept forgetting the wars won or lost in the past, immaterial all that now seemed                                 Those trees in their love reminded my mother. I didn't care when I lost the path,in fact, is there a path in the forest? All paths lead to one destination, there isn't any other,nothing to worry. Forest with her thousand hands embraced me and said: "Every king one day, has to take his heavy crown from his head put down and walk this path wearing dress made of leaves" There weren't any footsteps fallowing me here, I didn't expect any.
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Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
Vanaprastha*
Hey  you That’s all that needs to be said as his hand explores my face As he climbs into my bed And whispers all my worries in comforting kiss Kills my heartache in the simplest kinds of bliss He lent me persistence in physical presence And provided sanity soft as his lips Dripping with sincerity echoing In all the silence preceding and fallowing His simple statement, Hey  you Colliding with my emotional dissonance His caring limitless intentions Scandalous and seaming compellingly  guiltless Pulling me close and killing the lonely So much, he shows me in utter darkness And he says so much in such simple utterance.
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Hey you
I have a bruise to mark each memory faded experiences, my tie-died vessels heal hurriedly as a huddled leaf chasing a stream. I have a bruise to mark moving hip-forward, greeting our kitchen counter first thing after threshold. I have a bruise from stubbornness we wrestled like chimps, my head finding first impressions with tacky tiles, your floor. You won our primitive match. A bruise to mark the midnight hike, I fell into the chaparral. One to many beers, and a spin-tingling fear of fallowing you up the mountain. I slapped you for leaving me behind. I have a bruise to mark our night, when anger awoke arousal Your thumb, your teeth, the main suspects to my man made splotch. A shower stinging stain trickled itself away A fleshy fading peace sign. I have a bruise from your discovery. In a constructed pile of soil You laid me down too ***** Stripping me of theatrical ties, temporary faces. I willingly wove the canvas, for you brave adventurer uncovered bruises. The maps you didn't mark, blacks and Blues you didn't write. Paints that I lose so frequently, like a child in a department store that I can't forget my human fear, Being Found. But though you paint me purple, break my veins like glow sticks, leave me in the dark, and wrestle me like a man, You heal Me, like rain to the grasses. To feel again. You crumpled contracted walls surrounding my ability in obtaining adventure, and your Happy Bruises.
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Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
The Mark
The laws of average ironically most follow this/ the old adage/ the mundane norm regular basic/ conform original most are not/they're just tracing out line to a knot/ complying to a form I'm not well done be in rare form/ I need a piece of peace belief/transform scorn to scorching with out endorsement become unique/ the laws of average face it most chase this/ in tune with the masses fallowing the stringed carrot/ a bunch of jack assess/ when you have the capability to grab it/ become a savage for your goals instead it's tragic/ you break every other law except the law of average/ why? you wanna be cool?/ susceptible to the oooo's/ out here making a spectacle for whom?/ Confused skeptical to who/ we choose to love but we hate Consumed/ so we follow innate Is not what we do/ Relate? I didn't think so Dammit I've had it/ Not for the faint of heart This is a state of art An escape artist To escape the madness/ Everyone else is doing it So I'm asking/ In this state of passion/ do you still want to follow the laws of average?
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Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
The Laws Of Average!
*Amazement taking a human form and performing for hours; it wasn't anything less. How the pianist does this is beyond the grasp of mind, owes her very much for the deep cleansing of our souls, but there isn't a way to pay the pianist. Don't know how much is enough in material terms, whatever will be not enough. It's worth a few lifetimes of deep healing, I guess, This adventure crossing boundaries of every kind with ease humbles us, eyes fill, streams of tears just don't stop. Fallowing her trail we reached a clearing in the tangled dark forest, experienced a glimpse of what is beyond: immense ocean of music merging in the dense sweet dreamy silence*
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Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 3:42 AM UTC
No way, you could pay the pianist
*If I made quotes from the movies I've watched morals, I'd have morals worth fallowing. The sad thing is they're all from children's movies, and I find children today won't fallow them.*
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
thoughts of life IV
Promise not to fade from my eyes Promise not to fall to the hands of defeat You're all I need You're all I have You're all I am I stand here battered and broken My feet tethered in this hell My demons clawing at my skin I'm grasping for your hand Don't you say I've given in I'm holding to this broken heart As I watch you fading away You're letting go You're giving in You no longer see me here You're fading into darkness All the while I'm chained to you Our hearts are set in sync Our bond written in blood You're bringing about your death And I'm fallowing all the while
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Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
You and Me
My perception is damaged, With a Rationalized mind, Only becomes a muse for the confused. Watching Scattered thoughts and blind actions. Analyzing  the holes I've created in my young tarnished soul. Only to find Locked up dirt covered demons, And  broken prosperous dreams reside in me. Down by the river remorse their rests marked tombstones, that badly read,                          "Rest In peace,                                ******                     You witty mother fker!" Its been Personally Witnessed only in silent reflections that heart stopping decisions took me in this direction. Realizing I'm only fallowing tail lights, that is traveling down the wrong rode. " mark of the beast"route  666
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
I have never seen my face..
talk talk talk in circles i'm watching you look over bits of the past and rewrite as your trying to tell your story... only   i'm not quiet fallowing the st st stuttered symbolism's the jagged concepts you split in five different directions your diction  just as repetitious as the first word you read In every new sentence. you were never very good at reading aloud. or even reading to the end of a sentence, you generally cut outside concepts in to different pieces so as to insert your own forced bits of puzzle into the frames of which they were never intended. every script written in my ugly hand or set to hard copy mocked and sifted like sand in your angry fist. shifting like the earth beneath my feet, when I lost my self or perhaps looking back now When I was lifted. Perspective is a funny thing It changes everything - I hated about being weak and scared and faithless, about not being what brave was to the bravest women that have graced my existence. I was watching you in new frames but through old lenses, everything contingent on me being the source of conflict-ion . infliction I existed for your protection, for your acceptance directionless when every light I had ever known went out in a karmic gust of wind. I am braver now than I have ever seen you be. I believe i'm braver now then you have ever been. for the only real weakness I have held in me for the weakness in my chest I have no shame you can blame me,if you wish, some times you must forget I am Human. I am Human. that is my weakness I am HUMANE When I watch a cataclysm like our story end in so much pain.. Every rewrite rendering more blood. I end it. Hand trembling over foreign trigger as I lift it, I will cry later when i'm alone. For everybody's sake. Now.. I am done.
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
I am done
talk talk talk in circles i'm watching you look over bits of the past and rewrite as your trying to tell your story... only   i'm not quiet fallowing the st st stuttered symbolism's the jagged concepts you split in five different directions your diction  just as repetitious as the first word you read In every new sentence. you were never very good at reading aloud. or even reading to the end of a sentence, you generally cut outside concepts in to different pieces so as to insert your own forced bits of puzzle into the frames of which they were never intended. every script written in my ugly hand or set to hard copy mocked and sifted like sand in your angry fist. shifting like the earth beneath my feet, when I lost my self or perhaps looking back now When I was lifted. Perspective is a funny thing It changes everything - I hated about being weak and scared and faithless, about not being what brave was to the bravest women that have graced my existence. I was watching you in new frames but through old lenses, everything contingent on me being the source of conflict-ion . infliction I existed for your protection, for your acceptance directionless when every light I had ever known went out in a karmic gust of wind. I am braver now than I have ever seen you be. I believe i'm braver now then you have ever been. for the only real weakness I have held in me for the weakness in my chest I have no shame you can blame me,if you wish, some times you must forget I am Human. I am Human. that is my weakness I am HUMANE When I watch a cataclysm like our story end in so much pain.. Every rewrite rendering more blood. I end it. Hand trembling over foreign trigger as I lift it, I will cry later when i'm alone. For everybody's sake. Now.. I am done.
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59
I am a collective of a most considerate refusal yelled at 110 decibels like a masseuse gone wild on top of you jumping try yen to loosen post or pre menstrual cramping manipulating selective preemptive decepting what I mean and what I does fallowing the child run or a boar's rut into your gut falsify credentials act tough when I get caught bust a nut every 9 months into the air usually, **** can seams of truth dreamy means ****** . ha
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
Untitled
my last love held his gun to his head So sweet so kind The gun was not Sharp trigger it went right through Nine month old with a soon to be ex wife My friend liked to drink He fell down the stairs               bled out Alone and passed out Under the bridge a man hit the ground Off the side onto the rails I watched him jump His shoes popped off my guardian angel we all have one right Mine walk with a black mist She wears all black Dragging the sickle, fallowing me closely I was told she watches over you to protect and guild My angel is death She keeps me still and silent She watches and reminds She’s not far off
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Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
12•30•18
You make yourself up into something you'll never be , Take off the disguise or that's all you'll ever see, Let me just be me Let society take me for what I am , This was a stand I took befor it was popular .. Before everybody desired to be something their not , No one will take your spot in the line to the carbon factory Their just as Eger as you are , They don't enjoy being different. , They must be the same Like clones trying to one up the other . We waste our time fallowing the leader , So long that we've forgotten who the leader even was, Give society a rain check and just be you Dont lose track of who you really are.
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Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 4:40 PM UTC
masks
Everyone will say I have lost my way, They all just haven't seen I've begun to sway. They all say I'm going the wrong way, But just don't understand what I say. I've gone, I've seen, This is the way I want to be, This is the happiness I've searched for, This way it's for me, I will not stand on your shore, But I will see that this is happy, I'm happy and though you say it's a mistake, I'm not fallowing your advice, Done dissipointing, Done being counted on, I'm done trying to please
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
The Lost Path
The mirror haunts my very soul Fallowing my eyes as it goes I look and stumble into hate But what blindness can be compared to fate Whoever has come to hate The grotesque image that they seek I for one am afraid to peak Yes the mirror haunts my very soul And none can offer any sweet console
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
The mirror
So many new things Mostly beautiful Some not so much Still everything has changed my life But one thing stands out more than the rest Something I have never had before Like a new support Making me feel stronger Blowing like the wind Cold and strong Putting out the fire Removing the pain that had once covered my heart Breaking down the walls, that once protected it But wanting to open up Reaching into the darkness and taking the soothing hand knowing that good lies on the other end Wanting to give in and let it all be okay But so scared that with a single slip up it will all go away Pulling back Staying in between the layers of strength and comfort and familiarity of darkness and hiding The fire causing more pain on some days then on others Some days I reach out and take the hand not quit fallowing but excepting the fact I have a choice Other days I curl up in the darkness Feeling the burn more inside Melting my heart like a candle But instead of it falling into the darkness and disappearing Something catches it Holding it Molding it into something Something new Something better Something stronger Looking up it;s not just an outstretched hand anymore A person reaching out Pulling me to my feet Pulling me out of the darkness Pulling me into a hug Into a new place A happier place A feeling I've never felt before The love of a dad So strong So patient So much more then I could ever ask for.
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Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:09 PM UTC
Love of A Dad