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"flustering" poems
By Arcassin Burnham Flustering hair in the wind, Better than sitting around getting high all day, Red lipstick on the lips, You look so divine, The females like it when I know everything about them, That sparkle when you smile, The rise of a brow when your excited, Hide your face in your palms when your shy, Things in this world couldn't be any more artist, Even your features inspire me to draw 250 different blue and pink butterflies, Monday through Friday I see your stress, You say , I pull you from that reality, Guess you needed someone smart to tell you the truth and all this mess, I can just see them flying now......
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
"Blue & Pink Butterflies" (Welcome Home mEP)
Your eyes are sockets of disapproval My eyes are sunk in their reticence Would I be the flustering morning sun? No I'm not, I only break the dawn When, creeping from my slothing insolence I enter the world afresh to some harried call A new day stretching my body from contortion To a slumbered, slouched hunch With bags afrenzy under these eyes that stare back Are portals to my soul, which is also empty Reflections of woeful, haggard dejection Which, in my mind's eye, which is yours, Give me call to curl back to my hibernation To recede like my own vacant eyes do, To my seat of morose repose Senseless, as I stare thickly into space Beholding my dreams strewn before me As I curl away from them, and they seem ever reachable Moments ago, I used to speak to myself A mutterance for the day's outlook Something to find a more suitable reflection Waiting for me at the day's end A worldly philosophy, or mind set proposal But a strange shame spoke back at me, As I perceived my speaking of these words That with each day's turn only mildly echoed As I turned from monotony with each night To mediocrity of passionless habit With a pinch of thought each glance conjures I look upon myself in years, My futile vision, my rampant egoism With which the twinkling eye discerns me At my now stage, and with Reassuring confidence tells me not to change As with time's growth will I become you But blink and I return to forever For without vigor and drive will this image Imprint and stagnate its glare upon this glass My eternal face, my motiveless eyes Which so piteously transfix themselves on wonder But turn up only rubble and soil Now, I turn in disgust, relinquishing my desires And, turning to the hour, feel slowly The weight of each second's thunder Crash upon my shoulders as it is snatched from me And now I must not lounge through this new morn I must not lessen with the tide What I have stored up in greatness But instead find the key to my ghostly heart Bring myself back, Forward into each new life
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Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
Mirror
Your eyes are sockets of disapproval My eyes are sunk in their reticence Would I be the flustering morning sun? No I'm not, I only break the dawn When, creeping from my slothing insolence I enter the world afresh to some harried call A new day stretching my body from contortion To a slumbered, slouched hunch With bags afrenzy under these eyes that stare back Are portals to my soul, which is also empty Reflections of woeful, haggard dejection Which, in my mind's eye, which is yours, Give me call to curl back to my hibernation To recede like my own vacant eyes do, To my seat of morose repose Senseless, as I stare thickly into space Beholding my dreams strewn before me As I curl away from them, and they seem ever reachable Moments ago, I used to speak to myself A mutterance for the day's outlook Something to find a more suitable reflection Waiting for me at the day's end A worldly philosophy, or mind set proposal But a strange shame spoke back at me, As I perceived my speaking of these words That with each day's turn only mildly echoed As I turned from monotony with each night To mediocrity of passionless habit With a pinch of thought each glance conjures I look upon myself in years, My futile vision, my rampant egoism With which the twinkling eye discerns me At my now stage, and with Reassuring confidence tells me not to change As with time's growth will I become you But blink and I return to forever For without vigor and drive will this image Imprint and stagnate its glare upon this glass My eternal face, my motiveless eyes Which so piteously transfix themselves on wonder But turn up only rubble and soil Now, I turn in disgust, relinquishing my desires And, turning to the hour, feel slowly The weight of each second's thunder Crash upon my shoulders as it is snatched from me And now I must not lounge through this new morn I must not lessen with the tide What I have stored up in greatness But instead find the key to my ghostly heart Bring myself back, Forward into each new life
Continue reading...
51
. So many ****** birds, Grey, brown and black, Suited as they sully in sun, In feather and windy-speak And dream, drifting to profit Points, marring the globe, They have so many ways Of singing on their swings Behind bars, murky birdies, Gawking in the crowded fields, Fielding, flighty questions without Answer, winging all souls to oblivion, Who fly, flustering, dusting with song Twisting the air into pure falsehoods, Curious, grounded pets for kingdoms, For masters, fly-hoping in their cages.
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
Politicians
hard soft i'm large and groaning a fit of plastered excellence in my ambrosia fountain of giggling fornication this city is grandly exalting and flustering mightily incense of femmes du *** who art graciously ******* with a their boisterous choir of laughing *** or the men groping seriously their frail fair trackmarked beauty and they finger their air and lush and spit gratuitously their eyes upon their ******* and they like to laugh with their haughty whorish breath a longing barely chained loosed slowly in splattering abscesses of lust ; asinine men go and plead sourly your heads in thighs sweating anorexic *** your Are is just cosmic lice
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Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
hard soft
It hurts to understand the notion, you are free in ever motion. I find fault in disillusion, yet I fall, and fall again. Success is a driving, flustering factor; My life is hell without it. Your ordeal I cannot reach, nor analyze, nor evaluate. So I fall, and fall again. I'm not a lover anymore, fighting is my mantra. The energy I prosper in is of perpetual defense, because of what I've done to myself. Being a poet I should understand, that I have problems as well as everyone else. Yet I can't but help to let apathy, possess me again, and again.
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Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Static perspectives let loose the overbearing
. So many ****** birds, Grey, brown and black, Suited as they sully in sun, In feather and windy-speak And dream, drifting to profit Points, marring the globe, They have so many ways Of singing on their swings Behind bars, murky birdies, Gawking in the crowded fields, Fielding, flighty questions without Answer, winging all souls to oblivion, Who fly, flustering, dusting with song Twisting the air into pure falsehoods, Curious, grounded pets for kingdoms, For masters, fly-hoping in their cages. .
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Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 1:41 PM UTC
Politicians
Cursing the crap cluttered coats hanging in their rigor-mortis regiments only to fall to the floor again and again. I cannot speak to insufferable sirens but suffer alone instead Crying into the soft white bread and texting tormentedly Lost is everything insignificant that I desperately require Gone is the fear of Sugared words: 'you're fired' Leaving for more clustered, flustering days that fade to an unreachable haze I sit inside time, it taunts my heart flashing past in joy and in bordem refusing to part Decisions must be decided and lessons must be learnt as I shall push myself, but this should hurt more, More shoved into my core which trembles flabbily inches from the floor. Do not question me Do not inquire Just provide me with the life i desire. Forgive my childishness and ranting scrawl. But i'm tired, and I only see days before a fall
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Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC
Clearance
Antrorse are these two stretched hands! Parched unto the atmosphere, colorful stratosphere dimmed, yet not darkened yet! Burgonet feelings are quite openly. Outspokingly disgraceful. Some wear marvels, others turned disgraceful.. How distasteful!!! Burlap past times and I'm still knitted in, wherein memories are the remembrance of a past who maketh thou to be thou. Buskin druid.... Flustering is soo highly overtaken, for thine innards goes outdated, as prayers are daily struggles. Mixed and ruffled, as the freckles to ones current displace.. Foxfire flame can be seen in hidden oaks, wherein thou art clogged by forest smoke, yet/ made by thine own destructions... Rich haveth luncheons, as schooltime sells cheap embargo's!!!renew tomorrow!!!! Icterus slumbering dots have taken the whole!!!while t.v rots thy soul, the news comes day in day out!!! All the same but worse!!!!battle dispersed!!! Indign I am to past the pearly gates! For to early or to late, its better to make it in than not!!!!
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Aortic blocking
He see’s the way she looks at me Her eye's full of sin A sin that is nice to me He wants her so He lust’s to feel her touch Don't know how to feel Feelings flustering around, like a poetic soul He can't help but to enjoy her He dream’s to have her in my arms One day I hope to Feel her love She means everything to me
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Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 1:25 PM UTC
The Sinful Eye's That I Lust For
Solitude of the mind comes so naturally. A moment of quiet begins peace and please. A ground which confirms sanity. Reassuring our thoughts they are still at ease. A meditation that dances delicately, Floating in ways more than comforting. A release from daily cluster and tragedy, For foil that stains peace of mind and wont let me sleep. But a moment of solitude and just watch me sink, Into cushions of daydreams, A pleasure so sweet, Sliding further into that feeling of peace. Gliding endlessly, So spiritual, so deep. Until the only thought left flustering, Is complete and utter sleep.
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
Forbidden Fruit
Maybe hope is just an illusion, a mirage, which prevents us from seeing the reality, fooling us to believe that its actually there, fooling us to believe that it'll actually help,                                 but it's all a lie,                                                                 a lie so white, as if like snow, that falls on you, giving you a glimpse of happiness, just a tick of satisfaction, but soon it melts, drowning you in a puddle, a puddle of fake hope and expectations, a puddle of fake happiness and flustering sensations. And that is when you'll realize, that hope is nothing but a clean white lie.
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Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 3:01 AM UTC
A White Lie
My mind got wrapped into a spell Entwisted by two hands And slowly, my resistance fell Into a man’s presence My toughts began to twist and spin Into thin fingers touch And faster, I’m entangling Into a frantic clutch Out of two dark, abyssal eyne I drew new force and energy And realised I can’t decline A kind of curiousity And fled myself into a vibe Both flustering and soothing Until I found myself beside A control I confide
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Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
Perfect Control
Fumbling forth frantically, From the far off fort of the firmament, Forever feeling its flustering frolic, From far before fragmented futility flew, Figments fetched from fascination, Fears fall foul at this fatiloquist, Figs fumble for flight, From the fixation of the wind. Heaving his howling hush, Humming his hectic harmony, Hems of haste heading home, Humbles me as his host, Helps with his honored honesty, Holds high in this, The hovering hood of the wind. Shouting sheer shalom, Shoves shadows, shielding me as a shroud, Shivers stretch from the showering stratosphere, Somber shoulders suddenly soar, Shirt flutters, from the shreds of the wind.
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Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 6:45 AM UTC
Wind
I am here alive flustering in the aroma of abusive fathers abused mothers of one night stands with someone’s name you can’t recall With a cigarette between my teeth i remind myself its to kick a bad habit you are a bad habit i’ve felt my skin cells relapse underneath your touch I’ve felt them sob in sobriety often found with a glass in my grasp i continue to drink my liver lucid of any transparency because there are no stutters in your stride and no stammers in your sentences for christs sake i hear your laughter echoing in the hallways my ears are bleeding and my cup has gone dry darling i can’t seem to stand because your goodbye knocked out my knee caps and this sobriety will **** me if I come back.
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Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Addicted
God peers down from towering heights at the lawless land covered in the soot of an anarchy so fine Where dirt and dust replace oceans of skin Where smoke and ash scoff at crystal skies Where corpses in sheets line asphalt roads And musical men strike weary chords in alleys wet with voiceless bards Will death be proud to call broken names while hungry vandals raze bleeding hills Fear not this time for there’s proof enough that you will stand agape at the smoky forests of concrete trees in this flustering night
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Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
Soot
Antrorse are these two stretched hands! Parched unto the atmosphere, colorful stratosphere dimmed, yet not darkened yet! Burgonet feelings are quite openly. Outspokingly disgraceful. Some wear marvels, others turned disgraceful.. How distasteful!!! Burlap past times and I'm still knitted in, wherein memories are the remembrance of a past who maketh thou to be thou. Buskin druid.... Flustering is soo highly overtaken, for thine innards goes outdated, as prayers are daily struggles. Mixed and ruffled, as the freckles to ones current displace.. Foxfire flame can be seen in hidden oaks, wherein thou art clogged by forest smoke, yet/ made by thine own destructions... Rich haveth luncheons, as schooltime sells cheap embargo's!!!renew tomorrow!!!! Icterus slumbering dots have taken the whole!!!while t.v rots thy soul, the news comes day in day out!!! All the same but worse!!!!battle dispersed!!! Indign I am to past the pearly gates! For to early or to late, its better to make it in than not!!!!!
0
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
aortic blockings
Before you, I never sung in the shower or swayed my hips to my favorite songs. I never knew what waking up with my lips curved felt like. You turn my thoughts into something that resembles a Salvador Dali painting and my words into a flustering bustle of syllables. Before you, Everything seemed like a balancing tight rope act that I always seemed to fail and fall. I kept thinking about you being betrayed by those before me and I will never understand because nobody could ever compare to you. And I still remember the first night I talked to you and I promised myself I would never let you go even if everything fades or ends abruptly, I will still have you forever on my paper in my favorite poems. The human heart is a very tricky thing and the past has proven that most things aren't easy but, you come so naturally. Every word I write about you flows out so easily despite the fact I will only ever always barely touch the surface when it comes to how magnificent you are. I will forever try to expand my vocabulary in search of the correct words to describe you. Before you, my notebook pages filled up to the brim with skeletons from my closet and ghosts from my past but they have since been replaced with embarrassing doodled hearts and words that no longer leave me preoccupied with loneliness. There were so many before you, some I only glanced at in crowded rooms and some I tightly held hands with, but none of them look like you do in a crowded room and none of their hands felt like yours and they never will.
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Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
before you
Before you, I never sung in the shower or swayed my hips to my favorite songs. I never knew what waking up with my lips curved felt like. You turn my thoughts into something that resembles a Salvador Dali painting and my words into a flustering bustle of syllables. Before you, Everything seemed like a balancing tight rope act that I always seemed to fail and fall. I kept thinking about you being betrayed by those before me and I will never understand because nobody could ever compare to you. And I still remember the first night I talked to you and I promised myself I would never let you go even if everything fades or ends abruptly, I will still have you forever on my paper in my favorite poems. The human heart is a very tricky thing and the past has proven that most things aren't easy but, you come so naturally. Every word I write about you flows out so easily despite the fact I will only ever always barely touch the surface when it comes to how magnificent you are. I will forever try to expand my vocabulary in search of the correct words to describe you. Before you, my notebook pages filled up to the brim with skeletons from my closet and ghosts from my past but they have since been replaced with embarrassing doodled hearts and words that no longer leave me preoccupied with loneliness. There were so many before you, some I only glanced at in crowded rooms and some I tightly held hands with, but none of them look like you do in a crowded room and none of their hands felt like yours and they never will.
Continue reading...
20
I haven't fallen  Yet to rise it seems  Im crawling in and out of breath Testing the limits of your life and my death Subjectively defying the gravity, that we lie in-between  Screaming for a better way to stay clean,  From all the lies that you meant to say Just doubt melting from your face Laced with despair, and sorrow Borrowing my heart, discarding the lies you gave to start, with Understanding half of what it is, depends on which truth decides to win Bringing more pain, and anguish Flustering failed attempts at love  Shoved aside like a lonely lion cub  Begging for mercy as the night breaks the awareness, surrounded by the rest Protecting more that just her heart from the mournfulness of death So sleep softly my child For the light isn’t the only thing that shines in the wild
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
I Haven’t Fallen, Yet
. So many ****** birds, Grey, brown and black, Suited as they sully in sun, In feather and windy-speak And dream, drifting to profit Points, marring the globe, They have so many ways Of singing on their swings Behind bars, murky birdies, Gawking in the crowded fields, Fielding, flighty questions without Answer, winging all souls to oblivion, Who fly, flustering, dusting with song Twisting the air into pure falsehoods, Curious, grounded pets for kingdoms, For masters, fly-hoping in their cages.
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Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
Politicians
This boy lying in between my sheets has a body like a ****** nose. If it were up to me his teeth would be bruised, but instead his shins are covered in broken thunder. Last night lying next to him was dark as damp childhood hair (from getting out of the pool, from just learning how to swim, from just learning how to feel ashamed of my body, all wet like fresh lips). Last night was so dark I had to hold my breath: held it for 7 seconds before I yelped for air. This boy is not mine. This boy is like somebody else’s death: he is hardly with me. This boy sits still and cross-legged in between my sheets like a black crab. He looks all skewed and crooked, all out of place. When he touches me I kick him, my legs flustering out and then recoiling back in like dying ancestors. Lately it’s felt like I’m dying over and over again, like I am dying with him. This morning I wait for him to leave, and then to die, and then to wake up again, spring up like small new gravestones. Every boy I have ever loved has killed himself. Murmur the word “suicide” to me before I sleep and I will dream about the days when I used to feel dizzy, always, when I used to faint, always, when I used to peck at my mosquito bites, always.
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Poem for boys I don't know
When do star-shaped smiles and firework eyes stop sparking flames while everybody spies Aching, madly we chase victory in a fool's battle of attention, attraction strikes fast in the flustering heat Shiver when the cold ignites, attacking discomfort with chilling nights so we long even more Summer keeps us gazing         inside our minds and out   It hurts       we are all blind,             lying ****** on star littered ground because the truth is       pupils fire bullets
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Firework Eyes
My Silence is so loud Bad thoughts stuffing my head with black clouds A storm is brewing Anger, anguish, and agony is spewing The wind of despair is blustering All my happiness and blissfulness is flustering Why is silence louder than thunder My whole body is starting to shudder Bolts of Lightening full of my blunder Are causing me to flounder My silence is so loud I can not abstain This is no summer rain It’s a tropical storm A typhoon full of pass sins and sorrow is starting to form I can’t take any more Please sun come out I can’t handle this brain storm My silence is too loud
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
The Sound Of Silence
Your stare. Unfathomable. Flustering my mind with your fleeting look. My whole world, distracted by your presence. Tempting me to reveal my heart’s desires. But I should look away, as it is the only cure for a shattered fantasy. I shouldn’t fail to remember ~ I cannot have you. So I’ll just walk away and leave with a happy sigh.
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Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
happy sigh
bring in the party, bring in the arbitration how else can a silhouette on her back not tarry? bring in the secluded, request for you to connect to her, slowly believes only you nothing surrounding will pay mind nothing surrounding you this line that you're tracing is one stitched parallel for many the edges, the lengths, flustering I hope the terrors are concealed by my love my love, love is the volatile scope of fiction a façade to cling to when all is wrong you come alive with pages and crooked fingers can't you realise I'm fine? the hazards of implying any lack of strength just to blank on your birthday, nothing surrounding -c.j.
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Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
ást er óstöðugt umfang skáldskap