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"flexion" poems
When a leaf falls down, Making no sound, It sails away........ And Just like the wind,  With nowhere to go, It changes directions At mercy of its strong flexion And like a rebel, It reckons a win. Freedom is brief And so unseen But it's worth the wait Once you redeem Yet the feelling isn't forever, Cause a scar is in the scene Just like the leaf, treasure your dreams Long, dull or bitter, They give you a gleam Nature is teacher To all living beings Please let me be with you For as long as I dream.
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Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
Fall
Ate a plate of whey, with the weight of the nation on my shoulder blade, away from any destination so underpaid, my paychecks archaic not even a quarter to go to arcades with it’s outrageous! misery must be contagious haven’t seen happy faces in ages It may just be time to vacate break out like rosacea to the golden gate every swig of this whiskey brings me to a bolder state like Colorado i weighed my options and hopped in my Silverado like a desperado full of bravado with the bottle, feeling tipsy now though singing in staccato **** an intervention’   time to get uncertain, speed full throttle towards the intersection   laughing and swerving through the red light cursing and yelling interjections with a bottle of bourbon horns blaring, it’s deafening my middle finger ascending just struck a deaf person no ***** giving i’m out of my mind, livid get hired and fired in 5 minutes from any job i was given i’m tired of living no one even knew i existed until i started whizzing through traffic causing collisions, now i’m forcing decisions on residents w/ moral convictions who’d rather see me oral constricted then remain mortal in prison got these ******* endorsing petitions to have me executed by poison injection shot, hung, electrified, the above all mentioned and did i mention- My backseat looks like a knife convention there’s an array of switchblades i had since fifth grade’s declension Sketching art on the desk while serving detention some kind of wonderful, no eternal reflection i’m reflecting as i smashed into a connection and see my reflection in the water as i’m descending slow motion like deception my body is in all different positions of flexion this is met with favorable reception hear the crowd’s exhilaration i’m unwilling to indulge in anymore retrospection just waiting to hear the splash and waves crash then….
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
dRUNk drivINg inTO deaTHs evErglowing LIGHT
Ate a plate of whey, with the weight of the nation on my shoulder blade, away from any destination so underpaid, my paychecks archaic not even a quarter to go to arcades with it’s outrageous! misery must be contagious haven’t seen happy faces in ages It may just be time to vacate break out like rosacea to the golden gate every swig of this whiskey brings me to a bolder state like Colorado i weighed my options and hopped in my Silverado like a desperado full of bravado with the bottle, feeling tipsy now though singing in staccato **** an intervention’   time to get uncertain, speed full throttle towards the intersection   laughing and swerving through the red light cursing and yelling interjections with a bottle of bourbon horns blaring, it’s deafening my middle finger ascending just struck a deaf person no ***** giving i’m out of my mind, livid get hired and fired in 5 minutes from any job i was given i’m tired of living no one even knew i existed until i started whizzing through traffic causing collisions, now i’m forcing decisions on residents w/ moral convictions who’d rather see me oral constricted then remain mortal in prison got these ******* endorsing petitions to have me executed by poison injection shot, hung, electrified, the above all mentioned and did i mention- My backseat looks like a knife convention there’s an array of switchblades i had since fifth grade’s declension Sketching art on the desk while serving detention some kind of wonderful, no eternal reflection i’m reflecting as i smashed into a connection and see my reflection in the water as i’m descending slow motion like deception my body is in all different positions of flexion this is met with favorable reception hear the crowd’s exhilaration i’m unwilling to indulge in anymore retrospection just waiting to hear the splash and waves crash then….
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Contemplation A whole new nation Inner-flexion Introspection Ponder think Every blank Most people are reluctant to change Quite contrary While others Live arbitrary Set in their way Sedentary all day I am labile The one constant thing in life Is change Ready or not Life rearranged Change can be A beautiful thing Caterpillar on the Ground chrysalis All around Butterfly In the sky Change is beyond Our control All we can do Is go With the Flow Inspired songs; 1)A change is gonna come1963 by Sam Cooke 2) Rolling with the changes 1978 By REO Speedwagon 3) blowing in the wind by Bob Dylan 1963
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Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 11:36 PM UTC
Change is Inevitable
It's your paradigmatic flexion no one shall stop you Nerves against the knife you dare. Very well I may, but just this once for I believe it's vile Pucker the shattered pieces. After all what's at stake your existence was my mere bait Cowardice defeats the brave. You may not die my ilk three, two, one, it begins Body vs the soul. You are bequeathed to wander and I will stay unfathomable Irony served on a lustful plate. A knife, poison, a gun but you are doomed to be awake My privation will tardily **** you.
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Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 3:28 PM UTC
Body vs the soul
your heart does not need to be torn; it just grows how it knows. it's contracting it's branching it's intercalating because it likes to hustle! it's a very special muscle, it's a mitochondrial tissue with a workaholic issue. Hey, don't let anyone hurt you the way your first loves did. strength does not come from malleability it's noncompliance it's resistance it's defiance you deserve better You will obey, but never learn. You could do better Hey, don't give anyone power the way your governments did. worth does not evolve from filth it's reconstructed it's degraded it's consumed like the vapor pressure pulling water into clouds, your heart can absorb all it wants. like the turgor pressure pulling life through a plant, you'll be full enough to avoid wilting and desiccation. Don't confuse sharp stabs of self loathing With the heart's aching throb of emptiness. Only one is flexion for glory, bending in hunger The other is not love. It will snap you in half.
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Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
You deserve better
I remember the blurred vision, And Nose quivers. The feeling of sadness free falling from my eyes. I watched it take shape, In the crevices of my palms. Palmar Flexion. My face was the night sky, & My eyes were the moon. They controlled the tides, And crashed the waves. That night, Actually, Those 2 weeks, I was stuck in the twilight.
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Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 6:42 AM UTC
Phase One: Remembering The Twilight
Fiend. Thou art a fiend. A hunger. Devouring everything. A flexion of might against right. A curse upon men. Thou art the bitter taste that follows a sweet sip. Thou art the cold hurt of love, and Many would know you as The wound of guilt For many have fellated your dagger And been ****** by your bullet To stumble and fall from life Into a death of shame and remorse A thousand black horses trampling the mind A black dog that tears away our legs This fiend that pours lava into our eyes Till we rust as ships beached Upon the shores of unjust suffering Thou art a demon, a prince of woe Tool of the righteous Stave of the shamed Bid me not hello And we will share nothing more To be alone is bliss To be lonely Is to be alone with you
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Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
To Be
Life truth lies in subtle realms As the smallest streams story     Is never straight Flames and streams bend with ease The cleansing part is both reflect     Our soul's intent It is the curve that holds beauty It is the bump we desire And all are capable sirens After acquiring the flexion     Of the old celestial song
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Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
bow
My best friend says that I’m “high maintenance,” but I maintain that I have above average standards and a slight tendency to whine. All jokes aside, he claims that there’s not enough time in the world for me to find a guy to keep by my side long enough to get a ring. But my fingers are just skin covered bone, and they weren’t born to be adorned in gems, in ores; Because Baby, I am an ore. “But maybe you should tone it down,” he says. Tone it down? See I don’t like the sound of that suggestion, or the inflection in his voice as if the choice to love and be loved doesn’t belong to me. Because it’s mine and I keep it inside, cradled up in a box guarded by eye rolls and locks; For better or worse, if you find the key I’ve been told that loving me feels like drinking from a glacier while hot coals blister your feet. He whispers, “I think you need to be realistic.” But where does realism separate itself from pessimism because right here they feel one in the same, and I find it strange that someone who claims to care about me and my well-being would plant this seed of despair. It’s unfair because I’m not insisting on perfection, just someone who believes in me, flexion, and can value longevity and a wildfire-life dotted with strife and mended with 3am kisses. I persist, why is it so much to ask to find someone who can love me and all of my quarks? Someone who knows me and how I only bite into a PB&J sandwich jelly side down because it tastes ****** up when you flip it around. And how I love the sound of marbles rolling on glass table tops; Or that cyclops eye that appears as the space between you and your lover’s nose dis-appears. All I want is someone to dance with, every day. I want to sway in the sun with bare feet and ***** toes gliding over the soil on my ****** front lawn. I want Bluegrass and shot glass afternoons, with coffee breath mornings. “You okay?” He’ll say, before I’ll wink and smile, all the while screaming into the unoccupied corners of my mind. All jokes aside, I thought this was feasible, real, and reachable. But my best friend says that I’m “high maintenance.”
0
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 4:05 PM UTC
Criterion
My best friend says that I’m “high maintenance,” but I maintain that I have above average standards and a slight tendency to whine. All jokes aside, he claims that there’s not enough time in the world for me to find a guy to keep by my side long enough to get a ring. But my fingers are just skin covered bone, and they weren’t born to be adorned in gems, in ores; Because Baby, I am an ore. “But maybe you should tone it down,” he says. Tone it down? See I don’t like the sound of that suggestion, or the inflection in his voice as if the choice to love and be loved doesn’t belong to me. Because it’s mine and I keep it inside, cradled up in a box guarded by eye rolls and locks; For better or worse, if you find the key I’ve been told that loving me feels like drinking from a glacier while hot coals blister your feet. He whispers, “I think you need to be realistic.” But where does realism separate itself from pessimism because right here they feel one in the same, and I find it strange that someone who claims to care about me and my well-being would plant this seed of despair. It’s unfair because I’m not insisting on perfection, just someone who believes in me, flexion, and can value longevity and a wildfire-life dotted with strife and mended with 3am kisses. I persist, why is it so much to ask to find someone who can love me and all of my quarks? Someone who knows me and how I only bite into a PB&J sandwich jelly side down because it tastes ****** up when you flip it around. And how I love the sound of marbles rolling on glass table tops; Or that cyclops eye that appears as the space between you and your lover’s nose dis-appears. All I want is someone to dance with, every day. I want to sway in the sun with bare feet and ***** toes gliding over the soil on my ****** front lawn. I want Bluegrass and shot glass afternoons, with coffee breath mornings. “You okay?” He’ll say, before I’ll wink and smile, all the while screaming into the unoccupied corners of my mind. All jokes aside, I thought this was feasible, real, and reachable. But my best friend says that I’m “high maintenance.”
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(Me slippery fingers slither, slip and slide splashing ala Jackson ******* sans slap dash experimental, swiftly tailored and harried writing style, yes on par with purging, spewing, venting...unexpurgated, unexpressed, unexplained... words, which this Engelbert Humperdinck singer/songwriter, (whose name inexplicably popped into the mind of this Dadaist) offers "FAKE" apology for any self inflicted, or sadomasochistic flagellated cranial contusions out of utter futility to make sense regarding following gobbledygook! GOOD LUCK! Mine groovy palmar flexion creases forever moistened by porous size **** leaking levees provoking deluge outranking Biblical flood - handy history (in miniature) replete with Ark keel logical artifacts discovered by hall n oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and 5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle, when callous ten hooks (calisthenics, eh) caught without Noah shadow of a doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott, (amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh, nee the entire spoilers alerts since dawn of civilization writ small impossible mission to decipher indelibly etched, (what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics), methinks his perspiration contains preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde like substance) generated nsync to maintain eternal youthfulness, which stumps medical community, and earned him hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought after human commodity), a blessing and curse palms plagued with chronic wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens back when life held faint promise for scattered (contra) bands of bipedal hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting (Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid heir'm barreling along barren steppes all around the one straggly mulberry bush, where one pensive monkey (protohuman) chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
0
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
Palm History Awash With Drips
(Me slippery fingers slither, slip and slide splashing ala Jackson ******* sans slap dash experimental, swiftly tailored and harried writing style, yes on par with purging, spewing, venting...unexpurgated, unexpressed, unexplained... words, which this Engelbert Humperdinck singer/songwriter, (whose name inexplicably popped into the mind of this Dadaist) offers "FAKE" apology for any self inflicted, or sadomasochistic flagellated cranial contusions out of utter futility to make sense regarding following gobbledygook! GOOD LUCK! Mine groovy palmar flexion creases forever moistened by porous size **** leaking levees provoking deluge outranking Biblical flood - handy history (in miniature) replete with Ark keel logical artifacts discovered by hall n oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and 5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle, when callous ten hooks (calisthenics, eh) caught without Noah shadow of a doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott, (amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh, nee the entire spoilers alerts since dawn of civilization writ small impossible mission to decipher indelibly etched, (what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics), methinks his perspiration contains preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde like substance) generated nsync to maintain eternal youthfulness, which stumps medical community, and earned him hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought after human commodity), a blessing and curse palms plagued with chronic wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens back when life held faint promise for scattered (contra) bands of bipedal hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting (Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid heir'm barreling along barren steppes all around the one straggly mulberry bush, where one pensive monkey (protohuman) chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
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