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Rosie Owen Apr 2015
Marriage is changing, from who can get married (37 states now allow gay marriage!) to who actually ends up doing it. Only 26% of millennials are married, a sharp decrease from 36% of Generation X and 48% of baby boomers, according to the Pew Research Center. But marriage isn't obsolete — in fact, in many ways it's thriving as we re-evaluate what the institution really means to us.

And with re-evaluating marriage comes re-evaluating weddings. The Knot's "2014 Real Weddings Study" found that couples are foregoing traditional wedding customs to modernize their nuptials through their choice of rings, dresses and officiants.

That includes — perhaps most importantly — the vows. Couples today are taking cues from badass brides like Amelia Earhart, who banned the word "obey" from her 1931 wedding vows, and reciting promises to one another that reflect the partnerships they strive for. Here are 12 real-life couples who vowed...

1. "To split the difference on the thermostat."

Why it's awesome: When Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston got married, Pitt pledged to "split the difference on the thermostat." While that partnership didn't last, as we all know, it was a lighthearted vow that highlights a crucial element of modern marriage: compromise. The key to a happy marriage is learning how to meet halfway.

2. "To be a true and loyal friend to you."

Why it's awesome: Marriages weren't always about intimate, caring partnerships between equals. But we know well enough now that the happiest, most long-lasting marriages are those in which partners see each other as friends (even studies have proven it true). Jevan's vows to Alithea, shared by the Knot, are a reminder that the bedrock of friendship is what makes a modern marriage stand.

3. "To communicate fully and fearlessly."

Why it's awesome: Among the traditional promise of partnership and faith, real-life couple Anne and Gabrielle told the Knot they vowed "to communicate fully and fearlessly" as spouses. In our modern world, we have seemingly endless ways to communicate — text, email, Skype, Snapchat — and yet still have to work to connect. Sitting down face-to-face, making eye contact and being vulnerable with one another is still crucial, as is being honest without fear of judgment from your partner. Emojis aside, that's what really sustains a lasting relationship.

4. "To grab your **** even when we're old and wrinkly."

Why it's awesome: As we become more open about sexuality (thank goodness), it's only natural that a wink and a nudge find their way into the wedding vows. In an open thread on A Practical Wedding, Zach and Kate shared their vows, which included the promise "to hit on you in awesome accents and grab your **** even when we're old and wrinkly." This promise to keep the spark alive even years down the line is no small thing. After all, studies have shown that all it can take is a simple touch to maintain a ****** connection.

5. "To value our differences as much as our common ground."

Why it's awesome: Love is a powerful force to bring people together, even when they're divided by cultural background, religion and, increasingly, politics. As society grows more divisive and we hold tight to our views, it's valuable to remember that our differences don't have to actually divide us, as these vows from real-life couple Greta Christina and Ingrid, told to Patheos, show.

6. "To continue to love your children, as if they were my own."

Why it's awesome: A marriage isn't just a vow to one person, it's a vow to an entire family — future and present. In 2011, Pew Research found that more than 4 in 10 American adults have at least one "step relative" in their family, including a stepparent, a stepchild or a step or half sibling. These adults are just as likely as others to say that family is the most important element of their lives. So it's no surprise that people have been adapting their weddings to encompass the commitment to an entire family, as Sara M. did in her vows, shared on Offbeat Bride.

7. "To comfort you when the Falcons lose and drink beer with you when they win."

Why it's awesome: As Mallory summed up so perfectly to Eddie in their vows, shared by the Knot, appreciating each other's distinct interests and actively sharing in them together makes a huge difference. It goes beyond just putting on the Falcons jersey: Sitting down for the game and sharing a beer is what researchers would call "shared leisure," and it makes a big difference for marital satisfaction. That football game is more than just a football game.

8. "To never try to hurt you just because I'm angry or tired."

Why it's awesome: The chaos of our lives means lots of stress, lots of late nights and lots of exhaustion. (Unsurprisingly, Gallup found that 40% of American adults get less than the recommended amount of sleep.) That can actually wreak havoc on a relationship, which is why it's all the more important to anticipate the challenge. Sarah's vows to her husband, which she shared on A Practical Wedding, are a promise not to take out her stress and exhaustion on him. Instead, she vows to trust him throughout the chaos, "even when we veer from GPS directions, schedules, itineraries and to-do lists."

9. "I have called you my life partner, my significant other, my longtime companion, my lover. ... Now I vow to love you always as my lawfully wedded husband."

Why it's awesome: The vows said by George Takei and longtime partner Brad Altman at their wedding, after the passage of marriage equality in California, were unsurprisingly moving, given they were 21 years in the making. As couples, straight and gay, wait longer to get married (and cohabit in the meantime), labels like "husband" or "wife" are less crucial for defining the relationship than the moments a couple has shared. Takei and Altman's wedding was not proof of their commitment, but rather a tribute to the commitment they had already demonstrated — a truth echoed clearly in their vows.

10. "To be your partner in all things, not possessing you, but working with you as a part of the whole."

Why it's awesome: If we're really striving for egalitarian marriages, then recognizing the equal amounts of work required by each half, as partners, is crucial, especially as women's participation in the workforce keeps growing (57.2% compared to 69.7% for men in 2013). In order for both careers to receive equal focus, a promise not to "possess" but to work to support each other is key. Much like Amelia Earhart refused to use the word "obey," real-life couple Alex and Michelle promised to be each other's "equal in all things" in the vows they shared with the Knot.

11. "I will love you no matter what makes my blood circulate, or even no matter what provides my body with oxygen."

Why it's awesome: Traditional weddings tend to be religious occasions, but with increasing rates of atheism and marriages across faiths, religion is taking a back seat to a more personalized expression of commitment. As of 2013, only one third of couples opted to get married in a church, and even more are removing religion from their vows. But that doesn't mean the vows don't appeal to a higher sense of faith — in the other person or in the world, as these scientific, "atheistic" vows, translated from Swedish and shared on Reddit, prove.

12. "I see these vows not as promises but as privileges."

Why it's awesome: Marriage might have been necessary decades ago, but these days it's more of a choice. So it's only natural that the vows we recite — traditionally a list of duties and obligations — actually reflect the happy choice that marriage now is for so many.

Yuval and Dina chose to frame their vows as honors, as they shared with the Knot: "I see these vows not as promises but as privileges: I get to laugh with you and cry with you; care for you and share with you. I get to run with you and walk with you; build with you and live with you." With between 40% to 50% of marriages in the U.S. ending in divorce, it's more important than ever that couples remind themselves that being with their partner is a privilege in itself, and one to never take for granted.

Source: http://www.graziadressau.com
Ah, doth swayeth the grass around the heavily-watered grounds, and even lilies are even busy in their pondering thoughts. Dim poetry is lighting up my insides, but still-canst not I, proceed on to my poetic writings, for I am committed to my dear dissertation-shamefully! Cannot even I enjoy watery sweets in front of my decent romantic candlelight-o, how destructible this serious nexus is!

Ah, and the temperatures' slender fits are but a new sensation to this melancholy surroundings. How my souls desire to be liberated-from this arduous work, and be staggered into the bifurcating melodies of the winds. O, but again-these final words are somehow required, how blatantly ungenerous! What a fine doomed environment the greenery out there hath duly changed into. White-dark stretches of tremor loom over every bald bush's horizon. O-what a dreadful, dreadful pic of sovereign menace! Not at all lyrical; much less gorgeous! Even the ultimate touches of serendipity have been broomed out of their localised regions. Broomed forcibly; that their weight and multitudes of collars whitened-and their innocent stomachs pulled systematically out. Ah, how dire-dire-dire; how perseveringly unbearable! A dawn at dusk, then-is a normal occurence and thus needeth t' be solitarily accepted. No more grains of sensitivity are left bare. Not even one-oh, no more! A tumultous slumber hinders everything, with a sense of original perplexity t'at haunts, and harms any of it t'at dares to pass by. O, what a disgrace t'at is secretly housed by t'is febrile nature! And o, t'is what happeneth when poets are left onto t'eir unstable hills of talents, with such a wild lagoon of inspirations about! Roam, roam as we doth-along the parked cars, all unread-and dolefully left untouched, like a moonlit baby straightening his face on top of the earth's liar *****. Ah, I knoweth t'is misery. A misery t'at is not only textual, but also virginal; but what I comprehendeth not is the unfairness of the preceding remark itself-if all miseries were crudely virginal, then wouldst it be unworthy of perceiving some others as personal? O, how t'is new confusion puzzles me, and vexes me all too badly! Beads of sweat are beginning to form on my humorous palms, with lines unabashed-and pictorial aggressions too unforgiving too resist. Ah, quiver doth I-as I am, now! O, thee-oh, mindful joyfulness and delight, descend once more onto me-and maketh my work once again thine-ah, and thy only, own vengeful blossom! And breathe onto my minds thy very own terrific seizure; maketh all the luring bright days no more an impediment and a cure; to every lavish thought clear-but hungrily unsure! Ah, as I knoweth it wouldst work-for thy seizure on my hand is gentle, ratifying, and safely classical. How I loveth thy little grasps-and shall always do! Like a moonlight, which had been carried along the stars' compulsive backs-until it truly screamed, while the bountiful morning retreated, and mounted its back. Mounted its back so that it could not see. Invasive are the stars-as thou knoweth, adorned with elaborations t'at humanity, and even the sincerest of gravities shall turn out. Ah, so 'tis how the moon's poor sailing soul is-like a chirping bird-trembled along the snowy night, but knocked back onto abysmal conclusions, soon as sunshine startled him and brought him back anew, to the pale hordes of mischievous, shadowy roses. Ah, all these routines are similar-but unsure, like thoughts circling-within a paper so impure. And when tragic love is bound, like the one I am having with 'im; everything shall crawl-and seem dearer than they seem; for nothing canst bind a heart which falls in love, until it darkeneth the rosiness of its own cheeks, and destroys its own kiss. Like how he hath impaired my heart; but I shall be a stone once more; abysses of my deliciously destroyed sapphire shall revive within the glades of my hand; and my massive tremors shall ever be concluded. O, love, o notion that I may not hate; bestow on my thy aberrant power-and free my tormented soul-o, my poor tormented soul, from the possible eternal slumber without tasting such a joy of thine once more! I am now trapped within a triangle I hated; I am no more of my precious self-my sublimity hath gone; hath attempted at disentangling himself so piercingly from me. I am no more terrific; I smell not like my own virginity-and much less, an ideal lady-t'at everyone shall so hysterically shout at, and pray for, ah, I hath been disinherited by the world.

Ah, shall I be a matter to your tasty thoughts, my love? For to thee I might hath been tentative, and not at all compulsory; I hath been disowned even, by my own poetry; my varied fate hath ignored and strayed me about. Ah, love, which danger shall I hate-and avoid? But should I, should I diverge from t'is homogeneous edge I so dreamily preached about? And canst thou but lecture me once more-on the distinctness between love and hate-in the foregoing-and the sometimes illusory truth of our inimical future? And for the love of this foreignness didst I revert to my first dreaded poetry-for the sake of t'is first sweetly-honeyed world. For the time being, it is perhaps unrighteous to think of thee; thou who firstly wert so sweet; thou who wert but too persuasive-and too magnanimous for every maiden's heart to bear. Thou who shone on me like an eternal fire-ah, sweet, but doth thou remember not-t'at thou art thyself immortal? Thou art but a disaster to any living creature-who has flesh and breath; for they diverge from life when time comes, and be defiled like a rusty old parish over one fretful stormy night. Ah, and here I present another confusion; should I reject my own faith therefrom? Ah, like the reader hath perhaps recognised, I am not an interactive poet; for I am egotistic and self-isolating. Ah, yet-I demand, sometimes, their possibly harshest criticism; to be fit into my undeniable authenticity and my other private authorial conventions. I admireth myself in my writing as much as I resolutely admireth thee; but shall we come, ever, into terms? Ah, thee, whose eyes are too crucial for my consciousness to look at. Ah, and yet-thou hath caused me simply far-too-adequate mounds of distress; their power tower over me, standing as a cold barrier between me and my own immaculate reality of discourse. Too much distress is, as the reader canst see, in my verse right now-and none is sufficiently consoling-all are unsweet, like a taste of scalding water and a tree of curses. Yes, that thou ought to believe just yet-t'at trees are bound to curses. Yester' I sheltered myself, under some bits of splitting clouds-and t'eir due mourning sways of rain, beneath a solid tree. With leaves giggling and roots unbecoming underneath-ah, t'eir shrieks were too selfish; ah, all terrible, and contained no positive merit at all-t'at they all became too vague and failed at t'eir venerable task of disorganising, and at the same time-stunning me. Ah, but t'eir yelling and gasping and choking were simply too ferociously disoriented, what a shame! Their art was too brutal, odd, and too thoroughly equanimious-and wouldst I have stood not t'ere for the entire three minutes or so-had such perks of abrupt thoughts of thee streamed onto my mind, and lightened up all the burdening whirls of mockery about me in just one second. O, so-but again, the sound melodies of rain were of a radical comfort to my ears-and t'at was the actual moment, when I realised t'at I truly loved him-and until today, the real horror in my heart saith t'at it is still him t'at I purely love-and shall always do. Though I may be no more of a pretty glimpse at the heart of his mirror, 'tis still his imagery I keepeth running into; and his vital reality. Ah, how with light steps I ran to him yester' morning; and caught him about his vigorous steps! All seemed ethereal, but the truthful width of the sun was still t'ere-and so was the lake's sparkling water; so benevolently encompassing us as we walked together onto our separated realms. And passing the cars, as we did, all t'at I absorbed and felt so neatly within my heart was the intuitive course; and the unavoidable beauty of falling in love. Ah, miracles, miracles, shalt thou ever cease to exist? Ah, bring but my Immortal back to me-as if I am still like I was back then, and of hating him before I am not guilty; make him mine now-even for just one night; make him hold my hands, and I shall free him from all his present melancholy and insipid trepidations. Ah, miracles; I doth love my Immortal more t'an I am permitted to do; and so if thou doth not-please doth trouble me once more; and grant, grant him to me-and clarify t'is tale of unbreathed love prettily, like never before.

As I have related above I may not be sufficient; I may not be fair-from a dark world doth I come, full not of royalty-but ambiguity, severed esteem, and gales-and gales, of unholy confidentiality. And 'tis He only, in His divine throne-t'at is worthy of every phrased gratitude, and thankful laughter; so t'is piece is just-though not artificial, a genuine reflection of what I feelest inside, about my yet unblessed love, and my doubtful pious feelings right now-and about which I am rather confused. Still, I am to be generous, and not to be by any chance, too brimming or hopeful; but I shall not be bashful about confessing t'is proposition of love-t'at I should hath realised from a good long time ago. Ah, I was but too arrogant within my pride-and even in my confessions of humility; I was too charmed by myself to revert to my extraordinary feelings. Ah, but again-thou art immortal, my love; so I should be afraid not-of ceasing to love thee; and as every brand-new day breathes life into its wheels-and is stirred to the living-once more, I know t'at the swells of nature; including all the crystallised shapes of th' universe-and the' faithful gardens of heaven, as well as all the aurochs, angels, and divinity above-and the skies' and oceans' satirical-but precious nymphs, are watching us, and shall forgive and purify us; I know t'at this is the sake of eternity we are fighting for. And for the first time in my life-I shall like to confess this bravely, selfishly, and publicly; so that wherever thou art-and I shall be, thou wilt know-and in the utmost certainty thou canst but shyly obtain, know with thy most honest sincerity; t'at I hath always loved thee, and shall forever love thee like this, Immortal.
Dear simple girl, those flattering arts,
(From which thou’dst guard frail female hearts,)
Exist but in imagination,
Mere phantoms of thine own creation;
For he who views that witching grace,
That perfect form, that lovely face,
With eyes admiring, oh! believe me,
He never wishes to deceive thee:
Once in thy polish’d mirror glance
Thou’lt there descry that elegance
Which from our *** demands such praises,
But envy in the other raises.—
Then he who tells thee of thy beauty,
Believe me, only does his duty:
Ah! fly not from the candid youth;
It is not flattery,—’tis truth.
Tempestuous longings from behind the screen of life’s moving picture
You stare back at me, in a glimmering, shimmering afterthought
Laid low by foregoing passion
In a moment’s torrid glimpse from our hollow reflections
Fragrant evenings during seasons of filming
Solemnly captured and revised then experienced
The all encompassing struggle with context and setting
Abides a steely night, in the rustle of autumn branches
Requiem for an unremitting beloved!
Sung in the valley between piercing peaks of sorrow
She floats through the scene as distinct aura and vague essence
An embrace from the trail of vapors and misspent gestures
All emanating from a glass of cider beneath nostrils
Gracefully, you embank on the wind of time’s shadow
And nudge my cheek with impetus and vigor
Lashing out at my skin in ambivalent revelry
As if my follicles were vacuous caverns
Catching the callous moments which flutter the ***** of hillside tents
The unearthly gusts of banality extinguish the projector’s gleam
While nature embodies your beauty furthermore
Toward the end of the pathway
And the credits of the film
And the allegro of the score
And the solitude of eternity
And the rustling of the branches
O Chansons foregoing
You were a seven days’ wonder.
When you came out in the magazines
You created considerable stir in Chicago,
And now you are stale and worn out,
You’re a very depleted fashion,
A hoop-skirt, a calash,
An homely, transient antiquity.
Only emotion remains.
Your emotions?
Are those of a maitre-de-cafe.
Mary Shanti Oct 2018
Half calf with a twist
As the line stands
Thinking she is a superimposed *****
Foregoing on

Barista
Waist like an elastic band
Hair waving hello in it’s pinkness
Homeless man coming in
Screaming
Obscenities
Something about Romans and Euripides
As if in a round about
Circle the store like a hovered cloud
Then out again

The rocker dude sipping his tea
The older man in the corner
Who constantly leaves
Wandering where one can’t see
Trailing behind his laptop and keys
Somewhere in this madness loop
Latte’s and Macchiato's brew
And I
With a child's flair
Take it all in, while I throw back my hair
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
Angels, who are my Gods; winnowed curves & a nucleus | [Local]
Always riveting [               ];                        &
those who do not see the higher angels        |             [It]  |               |
human kidney damage leading to            distress
& the cave's heat cries               out of nothing;
&         from him that hath loved him:
Sisyphus' mistake;                [Passion
The acts;                                 although in whose care he was given;
                                           the doctor does not seek external things;
    oath];                                  Telling of the ages of gold and silver;
Man is evil from childhood
thereof, and one kid of the goats,            a male one,
whom his master,                            he has promised
unto me for ever unto      the    ages; this is the first,
What is the one thing
in her womb,
        who has more, Me & all the walls;
           The devices, which are separate
preceded him:              Feed my lambs;
St. Thomas is the most avant-garde Angel,
who are my Gods;
w/ winnowed curves;
as a nucleus | [Local]
Always riveting [] and
those who do not see the higher angels; | [It] | |
human kidney damage; distress
and out of the cave of the field, and that,
heat from a nothing; and from him, who loved him,
Sysyphus is a mistake; [Passion
given the acts of his deeds; for the doctor;
EXTERNAL seeks a miracle
oath]; Tells the gold and silver;
Man is evil from childhood
his, and a young goat, which he acts,
I promised forever
ages; This is the first time
the rest of it is in the womb of its possessor,
scattered in the hedges: for all things;
In the foregoing St. Thomas feed;
        my greatest concern is the avant-garde,
Angel,    who are my Gods;
               winnowed curves;
as a nucleus | [Local]
Always riveting [                 ] &
those who do not see the higher angels;   |         [It]    
          | | |    |     ||              |      |  |
human kidney damage; distress
The cave and,
the heat out of nothing;                 from him that hath loved him:
Sysyphus errors;             [Passion;
through whose care he was given;             the doctor
         It asks for foreign
                            oaths];      Tells the gold and silver;
Man is evil from childhood
his, and a kid of the goats, for one, whom his master,
I promised forever
ages;    This is the first time
The other is a pregnant woman;
All the fences that separated
the foregoing, Feed St. Thomas;
the sum of the avant-garde
Dre De Asis Feb 2013
As everything comes to a close, the end is dawning upon thee
I thought I was prepared with my farewells, apparently not sadly.
recent events made it difficult to say goodbye
to all the things I love no matter how hard I try.

I deemed the thought that I could face this with pride
yet I seem to have so much things to hide.
Perhaps the fear hindered me from saying all that I need to say
to settle unfinished businesses and things left unsaid, array.

I therefore realized that I have a lot of things to express
and I just can't settle with foregoing it all, I can't suppress.
Boldly as it may seem, it easier said than done.
I just can't find the right time to say it, how it should've begun.

My mind consumes me with this unsettling thought
leaving me baffled, confused on what I ought.
it's easier to shun it away, long forgotten,
but escaping doesn't fix anything does it? I guess it shouldn't happen...

Say I were to express these unspoken of truths
that confined me and hindered me to show myself, soothe.
Will the opportunity to speak of be bestowed?
Am I to be strengthened, courage, bravery endowed?

To be granted this desire to behold my insights
is the greatest blessing to be bestowed by the above lights.
Give me the answer I ask of thee!
Should I speak of this or flee?!

I yearn to tell the truth and the whole truth to thee.
for clarity and liberation from this for me...
Brian Oarr Feb 2012
Black lake reflects a trail of ivory plumes,
Cockatiel's alabaster tail of feathers.
Such loveliness can only be the moon's,
Which skinny-dips in lunar altogethers.

Raccoons catch fish along the shore,
Fastidious paws clutching their prizes.
She paddles her canoe with silent oar,
Observing nature's soft nocturne disguises.

Silhouetted loons rock low upon the waves,
Asleep till sunlight sets them to their songs.
Her wake bisects the path the moon engraves,
As wilderness whispers tranquilly she belongs.

She'll stay the night foregoing comfort fire,
Moonlight enough by which to pitch a tent.
And come tomorrow should anyone inquire,
No trace reveals her overnight encampment.
One mile down the drunken river
I lost my mind in her midday yellow haze.
Residues of the river-wind-kiss lingered saline on my face,
Wild sun on the wild river scathed my skin copper,
And I glided upstream in blurred eye sweat
Losing and finding the river’s mangrove shore.
My mind in delirious mess wondered
What it was that wined the river, made her a swirling detachment,
Bearing all with the endurance of a drunkard
But embracing nothing like an all foregoing monk.

I dreamed adrift one more mile and then another
Till I was windswept and wined like the drunken river.
Andrew Rueter Jan 2018
Scientists made a lofty discovery
The universe continually expands and contracts
In the exact same manner absolutely
So we ultimately live the same lives for all eternity
So we devised a way to send a message to the next universe
A message that would stay in place
Even without the existence of space
A message that would survive time
Even through the end of our line
The message conveyed:
Don't make our mistakes
Correct our sins

Our universe ended
The new one began

The first humans mindlessly worshipped the message
Hearts of the willing sacrificed
They killed for control of its mystic power
It belonged to whoever owned the ivory tower
Until religions were developed
Although they were all somewhat derived from the message
People began to see the message itself as a pagan hieroglyph
An incoherent interference
They killed all that worshipped it
Senseless slaughter
Things got hotter
When people were finally intelligent enough to understand it
They saw all the things we did wrong
And how to avoid those mistakes
But the things we did that were wrong
Seemed much more convenient and easier
They used the weapons we told them not to make
And the ideas we told them to steer clear of
Swords became guns
Racism became genocide
Love became hate
More direct ways of imposing their vision onto the world
Foregoing empathy and compromise
They submitted to the fascism of their subjectivity
And were plunged into the Dark Ages
Steel ***** and chains
Followed by bullet rain
Humanity was lost and found
Humanitarians gagged and bound
People had to make mistakes for themselves
Until they decided to stop living in hell
Humanity collectively decided to follow the message righteously
After they saw hope for the future
Through the vision our message provided
And they realized they should write a message of their own
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
WordWerks Feb 2013
I'm just one of the thousands
Of monkeys, who sit
At their keyboards,
Typing away,
   Typing away,
      Typing away,
Foregoing food, water,
   ***, and even love
      Typing away
         Typing away
Not to create some masterpiece
   Which will immortalize me
      Typing away
         Well, maybe that
But, it is my hope that in
   This typing away
      I could capture
         The most elusive of prizes:
             Truth
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
Those who live give thanks to the ears of the wedding brake and set fire to the human ear, however, who left the cool garden in the performance of the manufacture of arms of football. Wildlife where the shadow of the dog's coat girl's health to make enough to be hidden in the shade and keep terms of delivery are expected abuse and even to living from the land and the building as a girl. Finally is not compatible with the social welfare city from the north along the length of a musician. For example, if a teacher is "my mother ... and suddenly I feel comfortable or a girl stuck in the second part of love." In the old days, when they were worshiping idols and the Cold War, riots were greater than the queen's yellow soldier's eyes. 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I loved you, that this poor criminal [Taptiquet Charp Trepp] not, for filthy animal, a male and his female; Know the kind of Torpenin, Jupiter; and a signal name and is a place to which there was a Roman poet. The second operation on wood waste at high temperature is ready for the bin. Builders put the birds cloth. More like ***** words to the same place to rest, insomnia, sleep 16 - 19 Happy Capital - one of the newly discovered functionalities and a better looking version 2. "-" This model is available "-" it takes less time spent in school working toward a short-term spending? "We have identified a list of checking bank transfers to list ways (and ACI, NCI, ABL ASB to help transferring and adding brand images), nor did it know the sound of tomorrow in the tree? Learn that it is easier to learn the language of their languages ​​online; it shows the various scanners the image of the devil, "the garden, our sons, there is a void in Karl city but the color of a heart recipient. . . 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Because it burned the fire of the gods and was destroyed by the serpents, because men are not like demons with six horns. Apollo was buried in the night with prayer. (3) SEerial SE A supervision model that adds clients from colleagues in Cognomen Germany to work with men and women. Pashboard pump with ACC and paner. Ttiti Treti applies to falsify the fossil, male and female; He called the place a deadly name of Jupiter to clarify, which led to the size of a long time on the skin of bradialium. Temperature The height of the wood is ready to be used in waste. The indefinite birds. More information, such as *****, Tent, Sun, Insomnia, Sun 16 - Dungeon Dungeon 19 - New search, Version 2, and one for the best job. "-" This pattern comes "-" Do shortcuts in school work take very little time? 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Taptiquet Charp Trepp This Foul Foul Foul PL and, male and his female; And he called that place in the nickname of Jupiter by the infamous crawling, which was going to the turpentitum trimep terepian in the color of Bradliam. Satisfaction Temperature The tree base is ready to run in the dustbin. The birds deprived the tarp. ***** words, more information such as carp, sleep, insomnia, sleep 16 - happy capital 19 - new search version 2, and one for better search functionality. "-" This model is available "-" Short-term spending in school work does not take less time? "We have wire transfer methods (such as checking the list and identifying the ACI, NCI, ABL ASB list, will help you and translate!) Or tomorrow learn vocabulary and speech texts? Learn to add a brand image in Latin and It is easy to learn the language of your online language, these different groups have been exposed. 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In this way, if I was a masters "besides my mother's womb, and was questioning me ... and suddenly I was struck on face or mistress is a crazy emotion and love. In the past, the investigation and poet is a poet , And after United Nations, the Cold War was the queen of the yellow ***, Greek beauty America is in the future, young young people lose their lives, the blue color of habit, a stage and the countries of Europe are required. Or, goddess snooch sand and clothing shops have punished you with whips, drinking alcohol with my drinking; drinking a woman's role in the garden and its impurity; Julius did not have more and no competition. According to the neighbors, people and among them pieces of Sarmatia, and one of the above mentioned things is easy to do in the clocktower and in the shadow of music light wind and clearance from F Mokile The light young people; the standard and my father, God, George, and Italy are in the day, and in the oak in the wall, she is blessed. 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Because he burns the light of the gods and serpents, for the works of men are not like the faces of six souls. Apollo has prayed in the night.
nini Apr 2019
There comes one day,
when the world is
in the midst of a ****** battle
or when there is a serene scene,
we will pass.
like leaves in autumn
we'll fall, inevitably
like the scars in your heart
we will fade
And in our grave
will be snow
that will turn to tears
and water the flowers
Neville Johnson Aug 2018
Michael Morton is his name
He was wrongfully convicted
For the ****** of his wife
25 years in prison, he did
You don’t want to imagine that life
An innocent man
In a horrible land
Christ, it’s so terrible

DNA rescued Michael
And fine lawyers who believed in his innocence

Turns out the prosecutor, Anderson, was corrupt
For sure
He withheld material evidence that would have eliminated
Our hero — for he is one — as the perpetrator
That’s the real crime

There is more
Anderson was so out of line that it cost him his job as a judge
And he lost his law license
And he went to jail
For ten days
First time in American history a prosecutor went to jail for misconduct

There is more
Michael found the Lord in prison
Which greatly helped him so
On his release he found a church
Invited to speak about his experience
He told those assembled if they wanted to know what prison was like
They had to ask him out for coffee
So Cynthia did
It went well
They talked and talked
There were many dates
They are now married

Michael reconciled with his son, Eric
Who was three when his mother was killed
And thereafter wrongly believed it had been by Michael’s hand

The real murderer was convicted and went to prison

They passed a law in Texas to ensure this travesty would not happen to another
It’s named the Michael Morton Law

They are going to make a movie about these facts

Count your blessings

The foregoing is a true story
Ian Cairns Nov 2013
The universe
A master poet in her own right
Writes incredible stanzas regularly
Crashing majestic seas through gentle breezes and
Curling tree trunks through Earth's crust like calligraphy
So effortlessly forming wondrous deeds

But even the universe
Fails to comprehend someone as remarkable as you
You inhibit the laws of gravity
Allowing me elevation to previously unreachable heights
Which presents the inevitable question:
If you resist common law, how could I resist you?

Looking for a simple answer
To a question that prevents casual introspection
I realized reason would never understand you
That no precedent has been set for someone so passionate
So foregoing any common thoughts one may endure
I recklessly accepted my place right next to yours

"The law is reason, free from passion" -Aristotle
Dragging my soul through the mud
Alienating the spirit out in the cold

No steps taken, Not even to think of it

Countless attempts have been taken
Mind foregoing experimental drugs
A weeks worth of ******
Slapping myself in the face, regretlessly

No control taken, Losing sight of reality
Realms coming unreal

Relentless faulty wire crossing the line
Unattaching all emotion
Unlatching all sympathy

Disarming defenses
Throwing the towel in on the offense
Letting down all guard

Forgetting all abilities
Giving into senility
Darkness draping over me
Out of touch, Out of reach

Returning to sender
Zone unheard of
Addressing the unknown

Nailing shut the coffin
Six foot under tow
R
usting* In Pieces
Dormant Grave
**Forgotten!
©Aiden L K Riverstone
Onoma Jun 2024
having dealt meditational

applications of paint to the  

foregoing walls of a bedroom.

a more youthy white cracked

open over aging eggshell.

all the same, as if uniformly

sheen.

try as it may, a paint roller leaves

a frumpy stripe from corner to

ceiling.

begging for brushwork.

it's an intimate little chat with

striving perfectibility.
This indecorous partnership
a bottle of whiskey and hands tapping
making the tapping on keys
sweet musical melodies

Living on the edge looking in
waking and shaking
always wanting improvement
turning away from disillusionment

Foregoing the pain
just forging forward
making law to mine self
being what I believe in

I am a stupid *******
on a suicide mission
this my small life
this is my omission

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Eve Sep 2016
Oh.
Oh how my heart grows fond
Oh how it wrecks my every bond

It fails my lungs
It endorses my wrongs
It drowns my heart
Pulling my limps apart

Ohh, how it closes all doors
And so much more

This sickening melancholy
This universal unholy
Attached itself to my brain
Tries to prove myself insane

Oh how it makes me want to go berserk
Puts my mind out of lurk

Ripping all ties to pieces
Figuring it'll bring me to peace

Oh but all it does is spread
All corners of my soul blue or red
Oh how it ruins me
Foregoing all the good I was supposed to be

Oh how this loneliness is addicting
This melancholy is growing
This bittersweet agony
This sweetbitter happy

Is it me?
Or
It is it apart of me?

I wonder
Oh how I wonder

-fir.m
Filmore Townsend Feb 2013
and they couldn’t afford fifteen
dollars. they couldn’t afford the
news. neither could i, and the reali-
zation that feeling alone is not being.
when comments on survival, i see
only a frozen bridge and man wrap’d
in tatter’d seat cover. he stuff’d new-
spaper from feet to neck. using
others’ trash to survive, staying warm
thru mans’ attrocities document’d.
by the news we couldn’t afford. and
i see all the faces i used to recognize.
i remember now of the familiar faces
but don’t have the time to justify
their lies. nor do i have the mind. it’s
been a minute, and lions flood a
room advanced from normality.
     regain control.
and my name is
          Ziun,
and my words are
          **** it,
and my thoughts
          cryptic,
and my body
          homeless again.
found in transition, runoff from
times of scavenging and foregoing
shame. found in transition from times
of the blood-flood’d valleys of dest-
roy’d lips. found in transition,
head’d from reliance to other
persons. to other substances. found
in transitions and the wind has rav-
aged my body. and i’d wail, wail in
spite of lazed vibrating chords.
his  vocalizing:
   – don’t forget to sneak off and
      get rid of it. just show up with      
      wine, then we're *******.
and this cat knew my first girl after
she was no longer; and this cat knew
my first girl of regret after i pass’d
her up.
   – calling sister midnight
a first time thru, palms face opposite
as we extend right. to feel in diffe-
rent tones as this train of thought is
derailing, digressing, regressing to
swastikas.
      (lemme redact that)
and please think no less of my words
based on the words chosen,
based on these infinite love-affairs.
A ride today in Des Moines
that appraise law and counteract
any that country may enact
where Wichita lineman forthwith

and mackinaw shall really embellish
furthermore with Granny Smith
awhile down stream on a riverboat
that foregoing is never behind

where a river is always wide
and bourgeois with a paddle wheel stride
why his atropine smile
reach the delta with such desire
and let him take the home route

in an abode of parish shanty
where river dance makes day long  
a simple beast, a man

with chinchilla wrap round his neck
that sweep her off flourishing deck
these stratospheric ideals now  
for sovereign witness entail campaign.
George Krokos Apr 2014
My Comments On A Thesis Titled:

Capitalism *****! Cold War Starts Up Again! Nuclear War Looms! (See Note #1 below)
By Wolf Larsen on March 27th, 2014, 6:32 pm

Hi Wolf,
It is very pertinent that you have posted this thesis in "In the Trenches" section of the AT forum and it seems that you have also raised some valid points about what has been or is going on in the world these days. A lot of people will perceive the current world situation as a foregoing fulfillment of Bible prophesy no doubt and there is a religious program on TV called "Tomorrows World" that raves on about such things and what is or will be taking place. While I am a little more condescending towards your views expressed here than in the Poetry section with the The Rats and Cockroaches Will Inherit The Earth (See Note #2 below) piece submitted on the same date I am much more optimistic about what is happening in the world. Though as a matter of caution or fact I have to say that your views given in the above piece (the one posted in this section) need to be treated with respect and deserve some credit in the way you have presented the whole argument in this thesis. There is no doubt that things are reaching boiling point and that sooner or later something is likely to happen which may depict a "worst case scenario" in the future but what if we, the one's who are seeing the impending catastrophe about to unfold, take preventative measures and not allow it to happen. I will quote here one of my couplets in support of what I have just said:

Simple Observation #128
To reverse the trend, where possible, of an adverse condition or situation
one must take certain specific opposite measures with due consideration.

We have all been reminded in the past due to what has been handed down to us in the form of Scripture or Bible Prophesy, fictional tales and other "end time stories" that when we (as individuals or humanity as a whole) don't do the right thing a bad thing follows and this is universally known. This has been going on for thousands of years since the dawn of mankind and civilization but as far as the present time goes it has reached exponential proportions due to the ever increasing global population with consideration of all the new technology being invented and produced along with nuclear weapons that could if unleashed decimate the whole planet. The other matter I wish to point out here is that if we don't stop or try to reverse the trend of things moving towards our own doomsday or self destruction as a whole then the forces of nature will get to us in the meantime. This has been happening lately with ever increasing frequency since the industrial revolution started almost 200 years ago due to our plundering of natural resources and the resulting in mass polluting of the environment and the air we breathe. We have in fact been upsetting the natural balance and harmony of nature on the planet, which is really a living entity still evolving just as we are, and because of this it is reacting in ways that are manifesting such as cyclones, earthquakes and other natural disasters let alone all the so called climate changes that are slowly but surely taking place as well.

We have a huge battle on our hands that is taking place on two fronts:
the first being outer dealing with our own progress involving technological advancement which isn't a bad thing provided we do the right thing by nature and the environment and this is not really happening as it should and could be,
the second being inner dealing with our own stupidity and ignorance in the form of pride,(including anger and jealousy) greed and lust for power. I hereby quote one of my quatrains in support of what has just been stated:

Quatrain #93
With all of the technology that's around these days
have we not in fact become enslaved by its ways?
It should be used towards the immediate benefit of all mankind
eliminating poverty, hunger, disease and to enlighten the mind.


I also agree with most if not all of the things that Miss Take (Doreen) has mentioned in her comments under this topic as well.

Regards
George K.
Note #1 A very disturbing thesis and if anyone would like to read the full article and comments use the link given below: 
www.algonquinstable.net/viewtopic.php?f=20&t;=23295

Note #2 to read the poem and comments use the link provided here:
www.algonquinstable.net/viewtopic.php?f=27&t;=23294

PS: If the above two links don't work correctly to display the two titles referred to just copy whichever one of the two links for the topic you wish to read and delete the semicolon (i.e. ;) towards the end of the address in your browser then hit enter. I have tried to correct them but the system won't recognize the edit and keeps on ignoring my effort to do so. Could be a bug in the system.
'So easy'
some would say,
the one who never had his day spin in a silent night or turned
his back to find he looks upon himself.
So easy,
like the spasms of the first ****** the beginning of the fall
and in the falling getting smaller, smaller but finding as the crow flies South in fact you're getting taller and the circle that you're in is the thing that's getting smaller, so you flex your limbs and climb and it's easy climbing over, getting over walls that try to keep you in, they never get to teach you that in colleges or seats of learning,
it's like they'd rather leave you yearning, wanting more and burning with the want of it.

But you never pluck your eyes out to see what lies behind because those learned fellows tell us that to do that makes us blind and if that's so and we take heed we'll never know, I'd rather bleed to death than waste my breath and then again I know that breath is just a roundabout of which a death is just one turn-off,
several light years, where the teardrop drops and all time stops to catch another breath and death is just a taste on the palate of some ancestral waiter,
I wait another turn foregoing all the pain and pleasure of that once in a lifetime final seizure,
I am my own and I am Ceasar in my home, a caliph to sit upon the throne and who can tell me no?
even so
I fall and fall and small or tall without a doubt it evens out
in the end.
Art Sep 2017
Photograph

I looked at a face
no longer there.
A frozen smile,
familiar and warm.
Once young,
now old.
Gone with time and
long forgotten.

Eyes lingering on  
pasty ink
paled by rays of sun.

Cradling a frame of a
foregoing time,
fingertips brushing
against a landscape once familiar,
now faded.
i desire for your
  inner light to awaken:
itself, a budding flower—

growing roots in my silence,
  foregoing the panache of air.
your petals assist my peril
into a curtain's closing.

what transparency does my hand hold
clearer than any day when you
look at yourself within my eyes,
dizzy with the image i give back,
  a startled child?

the Earth's jar topples, waters breaking free, loosening its girth wily against stone, rinsing us both with purity.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2021
O FORTUNA!
("You Will Become Yourself")

She's three.
A distinct reek of Old Spice!

"And who's been splashing on
my aftershave!"

I growl in my best
Daddy Bear voice.

"Me...me!"
she answers in her best George Washington.

"Mummy's perfume
smells yucky sweet!"

She a good judge of smell
this little girl.

What is...what isn't nice
sides with the Old Spice.

"So. Are we right then?"
I ask.

We go for a walk.
The cat on the leash.

Because.
We haven't got a dog.

And so we head off.
Dad, cat and little girl.

The cat none too pleased
at "What's that meow smell!"

Old Spice
not for cats.

Only for
Dads and daughters.

*

Old Spice is the smell of my Dad...it is forever him.... deeply ingrained in the olfactory memory of many generations...the essence of childhood thus becoming an archetypal perfume that stands for all things that he meant...safety, warmth, and security.
It was what I always gave him as a birthday and Christmas present....saving up all my pennies to be able to do so and foregoing chocolate and sweeties all during the year. My mum on the other hand
was always the equally iconic 4711. I still have both in my bathroom even now...how Proust like!
So it was odd to pass it on to...my daughter.
Her mum said it always reminded her of a Mexican drink called Horchata de arroz which is flavoured with the Aztec Marigold. and made her feel drunk even if she hadn't imbibed.
Darling daughter said it smelt of mummy's potpourri on the coffee table.
Oh and of... Daddy.
Old Spice was founded in New York by William Lightfoot Schultz in 1934. He was a soap and toiletries maker, and his first fragrance was, ironically, a woman’s scent: Early American Old Spice.
It is said that Shultz was inspired by his mother’s rose jar when creating this early version of Old Spice. A rose jar usually held a moist potpourri of rose petals, spices and herbs in a base of salt to preserve them. Those notes can still be detected in Old Spice’s products to this day. This perfume was released in 1938 to great acclaim, and he followed it with some men’s products in time for Christmas sales at the end of the year.
Although the original scent of classic Old Spice has most likely changed with time and reformulation (as a number of fragrances do), it still retains its primary scent profile, and it could be argued that it represents its own classification. Unlike many other men’s scents that fall easily into labels like fougère, leather or musk, Old Spice brought carnation, pimento, nutmeg and cinnamon to the forefront, omitting some of the classic men’s notes of pine, vetiver and lavender. This iconic mixture summoned up images of seafaring explorers and adventure, but the image and reality were often the same: Old Spice found its way wherever American G.I.’s were stationed during and after the war, and this helped to influence its proliferation around the globe.

As James the first of Aragon was supposed to have said in his best Valencian: "Açò és or, xata!" ("That's gold, pretty girl!")
Clifford Smith Jul 2015
To everyone who believes
Have faith in your work
Admire the hearts of others
Never quit, always strive
Keep God first

You are self-made
Outstanding and omnipotent
Understanding and foregoing

THANK YOU
Just wanted to thank everyone in a different way.
Playing life's jazz with fingers on a tabletop  ,
Tilting the balance between the carefree and non-sensical
with whimsical raven feathers of thought ..
The curator of his minds pale luminosity , foregoing
the feast of worldly carrion for a few bits of droll grain ,
god ****** this drudgery labeled mortality ..
Copyright March 16 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2022
~another love poem~

In the thousands of years of Earth’s foregoing,
marking the reign of humans, all seek sapience,
knowing full well, neither first or last am I to mark
this day’s commencement with a need, a desiring,
to notate this not unusual but definitively unique
calendar notation with a tribute, neither requested
but freely given to the person who lies beside me.

Did I wake commanded or so compelled to scrabble
a collection of words, sequences, initially disordered,
into a shape, to chisel these sendings of a chest into a
living disbursement, a statute, a marbleized creature,
that empties and releases a sensory disposition rumbling
into a messy, mediocre utterance of sentience while they
sleep quiet, pockmarked by dreamed mumblings, dreaming?


No, I did not.

News headlines come demanding see me, insistent that
I am urgency, but one displaced by the next, making them
instantly stale by pealing replacements. This poem, a self-
appointed task is now eased, spent and spurted into an
lifespan of a length unknown and untold. Here I end, ceased
and resisting, demurring, desisting another stanza, The hour
approaches the seventh hour before noon, rising time. Go now.

The choring chords of fibrous tasks that stitch existence into
a sustaining impertinent permanence, list-crossing-off, a-nagging.
The itches of living, ask for scratching, 1st cup of coffee making,
but smile bemusedly that this first and freshest to do, newly added,
is done, dispatched with a line-sworded satisfying crossing off.
She sleeps on, while I soon to rise and quiet paddle to the
kitchen where kept the utensils for sustenance,


I am contented, miraculously, simultaneous,
emptied and fulfilled.

4-14-2021
NYC
7:18am
ponny jo Nov 2013
Your eyes are stars that don't burn out
Crooked grins to draw it out
Light reaches not the bottom
A darker gaze can't be forgotten

Strength removed Sat here me glued
All hope imbued never to lose
Steadfast and sorrow saved for the morrow
And from the night myself I borrow

And listless like a petal blowing
Inside a spark an ember growing
Shadows dance while light is glowing
Wonderings ever about foregoing
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2022
~but, yet, another love poem~

In the thousands of years of Earth’s foregoing,
marking the reign of humans, all seeking sapience,
full well knowing, neither first or last am I to mark
this day’s commencement with a need, a desiring,
to notate this not unusual but definitively unique
calendar entrance with a tribute, neither requested,
but freely given to the person who lies beside me.

Did I wake commanded or so compelled to scrabble
a collection of words, sequences, initially disordered,
into a shape, to chisel these sendings of a chest into a
living disbursement, a marbleized breathing creature,
that empties and releases a sensory disposition rambling,
rumbling into a messy, utterance of sentience while they
sleep quiet, pockmarked by dreamed mumblings, dreaming?


No, I did not.

News headlines come demanding see me, insistent that
I am urgency, but one displaced by the next, making them
instantly stale by pealing replacements.

This poem, a self- appointed task is now eased, story spent and spurted into a lifespan of a length unknown and untold.  But, and  yet, here I end, ceased and not resisting, demurring, desisting another stanza, The hour approaches the seventh hour after midnight, rising time.

Go now.

The choring chords of fibrous tasks that stitch existence into
a sustaining impertinent permanence, list-crossing-off, a-nagging.
The itches of living, ask for scratching, 1st cup of coffee making,
but smile bemusedly that this first and freshest to do, newly added,
is done, dispatched with a line-sworded satisfying crossing off.
She sleeps on, while I soon to rise and quiet paddle to the
kitchen where kept the utensils for sustenance,


But, and yet, I am contented, miraculously, simultaneous,
emptied and fulfilled.

4-14-2021
NYC
7:18am
Leonard smiles and whispers “hallelujah! I-used-to-live-alone-before-i-knew-you”
Jean Rojas Apr 2015
Lost in the day
For the night’s
Chief bound captive
Wandering soul
In the morrow of doom
Love of the flame
Inscribed in a name
Heaven with mercy
Had given this fame

Wonderful feeling
Send strolling the air
Hide not in secret
To this, where I came
In colorful ribbons
To wrap all my gains
To touch all that drops
In winter gold rains

Love then, I shall
This wandering soul
Whose body is free
And can never be owned
By what right I should
Though eager I would
Passing in time
Forgotten in rhyme

Foregoing the consequence
Ne’re regretting the care
Neither remaining
In silver chain’s swell
That which was lost
For whatever the cost
To fallow a lead
And carry this deed

To wandering souls
To mortal time’s fare
Just for a share
In want and in bear
Give me one moment
Or give me but none
For this be the soul
I’ll offer the sun

Return to the clock
Whose hands I would lock
Are then to shock
And fate there to rock
In solid solitude
I dare not arrest
This impossible quest
That I must possess

A toast to thy presence
Without all pretense
Inverting the past tense
In measures immense
Thee be that wandering soul
That maketh me whole
Direct thee but one role
And safe in my lap
A bird that is free
Of the gilded restraint

For to covet a soul
Which I can not deny
Nor pardon for faults
I am not to blame
If I love a being
That God hath create
No matter what package
He be present
Is to love the morning sun
That quench this request…..

To this wandering soul
I lay at his feet
Submitting my past
My present and all
The I rest my case
And let my life fall
On the lap of this one man,
This wandering soul……….
For: Errol Flynn  (1994)
Presence; transparent and unquestionable...
Upon Ms.
Conclusively hapless.
Foregoing commencement.

— The End —