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"foreseeable" poems
helping the kids with homework• no one told you, was part of the job description paycheck earner a-ok, gruff but tender lover, knowing her special places, building a tree swing, a tree house safe and satisfactory, one the neighbors envy taking them to the hospital for broken arms and chemotherapy, part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable, going to school to give that principal a look that will make him think twice before suspending one of his for defending himself you remember your daddy doing the same for you, forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later the tucking in, the pretense ouch when your end of day scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies, carrying tissues in a toolbox, never heard of, nevertheless done, tho not a memory defining the future inclusive, definitely a learning ability, a likeability doing homework, nuh uh, no way jose, don’t dare let them know how you never got a gold star, always sat in the back row, outta sight, all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery, and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much ain’t exactly his strong suit sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him, know where the on/off computer button hides, the rest is up to them; got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am, how to address humans with respect, i’ll promise them anything but not doing any homework, unless it the kind that that makes “a home work
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
helping the kids with homework
helping the kids with homework• no one told you, was part of the job description paycheck earner a-ok, gruff but tender lover, knowing her special places, building a tree swing, a tree house safe and satisfactory, one the neighbors envy taking them to the hospital for broken arms and chemotherapy, part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable, going to school to give that principal a look that will make him think twice before suspending one of his for defending himself you remember your daddy doing the same for you, forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later the tucking in, the pretense ouch when your end of day scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies, carrying tissues in a toolbox, never heard of, nevertheless done, tho not a memory defining the future inclusive, definitely a learning ability, a likeability doing homework, nuh uh, no way jose, don’t dare let them know how you never got a gold star, always sat in the back row, outta sight, all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery, and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much ain’t exactly his strong suit sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him, know where the on/off computer button hides, the rest is up to them; got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am, how to address humans with respect, i’ll promise them anything but not doing any homework, unless it the kind that that makes “a home work
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41
This planet orbits a yellow sun like ours. It is in the Optimum Zone to support life. Sure enough it has a wide variety of flora and fauna. Highly intelligent life has evolved in its seas and oceans. Its continents, however, are dominated by a species of primates. Over the past 300 of the planet’s years they have developed Some fairly high technology. But they remain carnivores Who regularly commit genocide. They cut down swathes of natural forest To grow chemically protected Genetically modified nutrition-sources. And they mine their planet empty Of its mineral riches. The planet’s ecosystem is being rapidly destroyed By them. Socially and psychologically they remain primitive. Yet they possess the means to blow their world To pieces. With heavy heart I have to advise We sign this planet “No Entry” For the foreseeable future. “Forbidden” indeed. A planet we call MW Orion 8478-3 That its natives call That ever so common name: “Earth”. Paul Butters
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Forbidden Planet
The Picture Window The vista view never changes but daily. The naked eye, registers the same distances, resting objects unmoved, modest alterations by wind and water are noted, but for intent, for purpose, the watercolor one would paint be invariably unvarying as a Swiss Alp. The  subtle nuanced worldview, where the sky stretches from ceiling to a foot above ground, as I lay prone neath the coverlet, vista always subtly differing, from its prior reincarnation, self-reflection demands to know. Alive & Awake? Yes. Breathing steady? Yes. Toes? Still can wiggly to & fro. My soul? Presumably ok, as I write, because I write, the picture window into to my insight, though oft blurry, yet intact, making discernible the changes in light, temperature  and heart rate, as the body/soul contraption modulates, just as the gradient of daylight shifts lighter and higher, with a rising sun bringing more clarity to our interactive encounters with our environments.. The picture window internalized, much the same,as the vista, subtle modest changes, colorations variegated, are registered. Today is mostly cloudy overcast, and shall remain so for the foreseeable future, which be about two days hence. Not unsurprisingly, methinks, the future tends to be cloudy. Beyond that peripheral, no one can say, our macular envisioning only gets weaker,time is a tough taskmaster and uncertainty is it’s own principle. But I can say, forecast from well under the comforter, that more than less, where less is more, this picture window, ex and in, shall remain, unchanged for the remainder of my years that fortune shall provide, and will & would grant me awakenings to the ex-sight and in-sight of a sculpted landscape, of negative entropy,  where disorder minimal. My musings end here, unless you still wish, come the morrow, what the marrow the day reveals, what the window will spill, new and exciting, subtly unchanged, and always different. Caution: The injection of caffeine may dramatically alter the windows perspective, as the exogenous always trumps the endogenous. 5:50 AM P.S. Making coffee clarifies: If the vista in +/- unchanging, then, all my personal, own horizons are immortal as well.
0
Jun 4, 2023
Jun 4, 2023 at 6:34 AM UTC
The Picture Window
The Picture Window The vista view never changes but daily. The naked eye, registers the same distances, resting objects unmoved, modest alterations by wind and water are noted, but for intent, for purpose, the watercolor one would paint be invariably unvarying as a Swiss Alp. The  subtle nuanced worldview, where the sky stretches from ceiling to a foot above ground, as I lay prone neath the coverlet, vista always subtly differing, from its prior reincarnation, self-reflection demands to know. Alive & Awake? Yes. Breathing steady? Yes. Toes? Still can wiggly to & fro. My soul? Presumably ok, as I write, because I write, the picture window into to my insight, though oft blurry, yet intact, making discernible the changes in light, temperature  and heart rate, as the body/soul contraption modulates, just as the gradient of daylight shifts lighter and higher, with a rising sun bringing more clarity to our interactive encounters with our environments.. The picture window internalized, much the same,as the vista, subtle modest changes, colorations variegated, are registered. Today is mostly cloudy overcast, and shall remain so for the foreseeable future, which be about two days hence. Not unsurprisingly, methinks, the future tends to be cloudy. Beyond that peripheral, no one can say, our macular envisioning only gets weaker,time is a tough taskmaster and uncertainty is it’s own principle. But I can say, forecast from well under the comforter, that more than less, where less is more, this picture window, ex and in, shall remain, unchanged for the remainder of my years that fortune shall provide, and will & would grant me awakenings to the ex-sight and in-sight of a sculpted landscape, of negative entropy,  where disorder minimal. My musings end here, unless you still wish, come the morrow, what the marrow the day reveals, what the window will spill, new and exciting, subtly unchanged, and always different. Caution: The injection of caffeine may dramatically alter the windows perspective, as the exogenous always trumps the endogenous. 5:50 AM P.S. Making coffee clarifies: If the vista in +/- unchanging, then, all my personal, own horizons are immortal as well.
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36
You mimic the Moon Twelve foreseeable phases Infinite faces
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Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 7:38 PM UTC
Moon Faces
Master of Arts The soul of mine, I cannot find! I’m lost in the ocean, amongst crashing waves — I’m almost blind! Mastering of Arts, I beg of you — let the fates be kind I have been good, haven’t I? I’ve fed my body well and kept my healthy veins — ... my mistake was that I hadn’t fed another anything but grains — But, I don’t understand? I too am a man! with needs of my own, and I support a wealthy land! I have wives that lay by me, I feed them well with my hand Is that not enough for you master? Sight o’foreseeable! What comes of me now? too lay like a fish? I hope that comes by faster! The waves ripple, the water crashing by at my feet I scatter away, frightened by the coming dribble The sky was turning dark — an upcoming storm was to pass by, I had no shelter and nothing here to eat My stomach growled, too loud of a sound It had been awhile since it’d done that, I was always kept satisfied Now, nothing’s here — not fishes nor ground The sky roared, electrified The storm was approaching too soon! No blues, No light loomed Overhead. Only the thundering boom. Too much to bear! Too much too weigh! Oh Master of Arts! I’m sorry I hadn’t looked down the lanes! I saw them too, Ah! They had been too frail and somber! Starving all day! Forgive me, Master! I won’t make another... the seas are crashing courses with their waves, Stronger each time, “I don’t have all day to be saved!” But lightning struck, and I swore to keep my place in line now isn’t the time to be a swine! Selfishness is another seed to be taken, enough to make you blind Master of Arts I swear to you, I’ll pay more mind to the frail, aching bodies of the souls in need I have enough — I swear it! — to feed! Master of Arts, Let the fates be kind.. I swear I have changed, my mind, my acts, my scroll Amidst all I have realized My role
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May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 11:32 AM UTC
Selfish man at Sea
Master of Arts The soul of mine, I cannot find! I’m lost in the ocean, amongst crashing waves — I’m almost blind! Mastering of Arts, I beg of you — let the fates be kind I have been good, haven’t I? I’ve fed my body well and kept my healthy veins — ... my mistake was that I hadn’t fed another anything but grains — But, I don’t understand? I too am a man! with needs of my own, and I support a wealthy land! I have wives that lay by me, I feed them well with my hand Is that not enough for you master? Sight o’foreseeable! What comes of me now? too lay like a fish? I hope that comes by faster! The waves ripple, the water crashing by at my feet I scatter away, frightened by the coming dribble The sky was turning dark — an upcoming storm was to pass by, I had no shelter and nothing here to eat My stomach growled, too loud of a sound It had been awhile since it’d done that, I was always kept satisfied Now, nothing’s here — not fishes nor ground The sky roared, electrified The storm was approaching too soon! No blues, No light loomed Overhead. Only the thundering boom. Too much to bear! Too much too weigh! Oh Master of Arts! I’m sorry I hadn’t looked down the lanes! I saw them too, Ah! They had been too frail and somber! Starving all day! Forgive me, Master! I won’t make another... the seas are crashing courses with their waves, Stronger each time, “I don’t have all day to be saved!” But lightning struck, and I swore to keep my place in line now isn’t the time to be a swine! Selfishness is another seed to be taken, enough to make you blind Master of Arts I swear to you, I’ll pay more mind to the frail, aching bodies of the souls in need I have enough — I swear it! — to feed! Master of Arts, Let the fates be kind.. I swear I have changed, my mind, my acts, my scroll Amidst all I have realized My role
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46
.           *These thoughts are a haphazard                  tessellation of moments,          sounds            and scents -   caught in a       persistent loop…          Such it is,    that they herald        no known beginning, and yield      no foreseeable end.* .
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Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 7:44 AM UTC
Loop
Sometimes I just want to see another way of being me Another way of being free of all insecurity But there are times when that is hard And there are wounds that have been scarred And now I'm trying to get by with what in my life has been marred. I keep trying to escape all of the lies that cover my eyes like tape; such a disguise, I can let out only sighs.   It's hiding all of my fears deep inside all of my tears that never flow, I don't let them go, so I keep moving, I reap what I sow. So no, I'm not fine, I walk a fine line between peace and what is at least my foreseeable destruction. And I know I'm laughing and requesting you leave it alone but what is worse is the curse of knowing I am and will always be unknown. All weight will drop off my shoulders, but before, it gets much colder, So cover me in this vacancy of emotion and make me bolder. Make me able to stand under the pressure of the hand that smacks my hand and tells me "Man, it's just a phase." which does the opposite of Raising me up and making me new, so if you only knew that what you do makes me rue the so-called man that I've become and now The future man that I will be will never rise up from his knee So I'm left stirring in this mind of never-ending insecurity.
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
Insecurity
trending                            trending                                                        trending the collective's trending is unending this form of trending has proven to be mind bending trending trending                             trending                                                           it's as though the collective's trending won't be ending   nor in the foreseeable future will it be suspending trending                            trending                                                       trending would appear that the trending is always ideally lending to the collective's   trending befriending trending trending                             trending                                                         aren't tales of trending made for those who enjoy the extending of a happy ending trending                            trending                                                        trending
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
Happy Ending Trending (Monorhyme)
cracked out humble with heaps of pride braggadocio Pinocchio I haven’t slept in days so watch the hours turn into haze blown out of barely open windows hide me from the world I’m making a pristine machine - unbreakable foreseeable as a weapon of poor taste chasing wasted with chasers are you shaking? only with excitement rage hunger My dad says get a job, get an education so I chose a dead vocation with no hopes of vacations and everybody is talking about the future as if it exists it only exists in clenched fists and endless lists of all the wrong turns you made on the journey from then to now I’m eating sacred cow meat - medium rare please coming up with ways to scare these dumb ******* kids away from apathy to put the shield over their hearts and the rifle in their hands but wah wah nobody understands blah blah blah shut the **** up for once act like you actually have a pair of ***** even if you don’t back in the day when we used to rob neighborhood garages of beer and played with pills like candy nobody threw tantrums about how unfair it all is so you think the world owes you something? the only thing it owes you is one death so why are you wasting all of our time with your I could have saved the world cry baby ******** I’m looking for slutty girls pearl necklace on her checklist so I can slam her on page verse me versus the world, right? left out by all the cool kids drinking boohoo flavored kool-aid so I made myself a parody of pretension cunning, coming, *********** you are the joke so I guess that makes me a punchline I’m running sprints from the baseline until I’m throwing up the right choices so continue with all of that angsty impotent sadness so long as you stay out of my part of town
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Parody
cracked out humble with heaps of pride braggadocio Pinocchio I haven’t slept in days so watch the hours turn into haze blown out of barely open windows hide me from the world I’m making a pristine machine - unbreakable foreseeable as a weapon of poor taste chasing wasted with chasers are you shaking? only with excitement rage hunger My dad says get a job, get an education so I chose a dead vocation with no hopes of vacations and everybody is talking about the future as if it exists it only exists in clenched fists and endless lists of all the wrong turns you made on the journey from then to now I’m eating sacred cow meat - medium rare please coming up with ways to scare these dumb ******* kids away from apathy to put the shield over their hearts and the rifle in their hands but wah wah nobody understands blah blah blah shut the **** up for once act like you actually have a pair of ***** even if you don’t back in the day when we used to rob neighborhood garages of beer and played with pills like candy nobody threw tantrums about how unfair it all is so you think the world owes you something? the only thing it owes you is one death so why are you wasting all of our time with your I could have saved the world cry baby ******** I’m looking for slutty girls pearl necklace on her checklist so I can slam her on page verse me versus the world, right? left out by all the cool kids drinking boohoo flavored kool-aid so I made myself a parody of pretension cunning, coming, *********** you are the joke so I guess that makes me a punchline I’m running sprints from the baseline until I’m throwing up the right choices so continue with all of that angsty impotent sadness so long as you stay out of my part of town
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46
She is fond of sunsets, yet prefers sunrise. She cares about the weak heart, yet is uncaring about her own. She is surrounded by devils, yet manages to find angels. She is kind all the while, yet mean at times. She is faithful to the windy winter, yet admires the soft summer. She is passionate about her love, yet apathetic in an irregular manner. She is roughly foreseeable, yet effortlessly unpredictable. She is able to be whole, yet unable to have a piece. She is easily melted by the fire, yet controls the tough cold core. She lives in her own fantasies, yet awaits an unpoetic reality. She is a prepossessing paradox. - Aishwarya Kulkarni
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Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 2:26 AM UTC
She is a prepossessing paradox
Crossing the Limits: An Unforging Wasteland Boom goes the economy Blooming a shade darker every full moon Ragged wires and broken tires All we ever did was try to sustain The pain of a million pesticides In our food, in our dreams, in our sleep Open your eyes and realize The harm of every arm cut up and torn apart Trapped in corrupted media Brainwashed by subliminal messaging Lend an eye for an ear and save our economy A foreseeable wasteland near to come Once true to youth As with the endangered animals Prone to extinction And breeding babies to come Rising with hysteria Completion for resources, affluence, sanity An ecological disturbance hard to ignore Deterioration Depletion Destruction Truly, the origin of the storm.
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Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
The Longer We Wait
no one believes in me no one thinks that i can see what i want to be no one thinks i can do even one thing on my own  they say i have no ambition  that i left home with no ammunition  to fight in a war of attrition  with no foreseeable outcome but i'm not cattle to be herded i am a voice to be heard  and listened to i will accomplish so many things  i will set out to be anything i will be set on the highest pedestal  my life will not be some humorous spectacle my dreams are so much more than skeletal  i'm more than the hollowed out bones that no one knows  where nothing but emptiness grows because you don't know me you don't see that i'll be free to scream so take me from these demons i am no longer the old shirt  left hanging in your closet  i am no longer a speck of dirt floating aimlessly for you to witlessly grasp at me as i head to see the minds that i can change  my voice will be heard from the high heavens to the depths of hell my words will mend the broken skin that we all live in my ideas will free us from the suffering and the covering of our eyes  and i will not just be believed in i will be known  and you'll wish i could see you [holyoak]
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Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
I Don't Need A Gun To Take Over The World
A ****** of Crows delights in death. Now they can come out, in novels and poems and such, ominous and black. For a moment, or many, a Crow is the center of the universe. Perched on its pole, an eye sees and its pupil becomes more. Telephone-pole cities sprout from the earth, each Murderous populous digs with hollow claws, making their wooden crosses bleed. Woodpeckers poke holes while Cardinals warble nervously, the network is failing. Communication begins to falter and cede. Rotted from within, cables splice and beams splinter. Crows, whose claws were too embedded, struggle to break away. When the last of the Crows have flown away, gone, the earth flat is barren. Tiny antennae peek out between the dirt. A muster of Storks delights in birth, bearing little yellow Finches to their new home; easily foreseeable babes born to grow black.
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Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 3:02 PM UTC
****** Hystery
By Elizabeth & Arcassin **by the gurgling stream he fell into a deep dream of a beautiful girl who had eyes so pretty of gleam how she did make his heart sang with delight as her image reflected in the stream's bright crystal light,** What's darkest may come to light, Fly from graduation or tutors, Hurricanes ruin cities, Mixed with high jackers, Free loaders, But in the dark, Run to the light, Trauma stricken, In the foreseeable future we need to fight, **the dreamer's perception of beauty is wiped out in the environs so broken and torn horribly about the shadowed lamp of fantasy which offers unto us the mired mirror of malcontent which is in this our abysmal society,** If you come to a conclusion, And have sense to maintain the illusion, You can make it a reality, Also to institutions, Beautiful stages of goals to be made, Grow a flower, Open a door, Influence the shade, **we are capable of making change our purpose is to bringing into existence the mind of the dreamer his purpose is to see that by all humans working together they can solve the ills and inequities which plague our earth,** Success runs through the heart of people that are determined, Trial and tribulations are sold separately, Achieve, Believe, And don't a servant, To people that don't wanna see you, Give and succeed, Your dreams.
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
"Dream" (Elizabeth Squires & Arcassin B)
I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission; The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large. I am a ball, I am a cell, I am the will of higher selves; I’m a layer of the kernel, Flying on seat "57L"; I’m a letter that was sent to mail, Set outbound when rings the bell. I am a curve, I am twirl, I am sustained motion still unfurled; I’m necessity in the system; Of absorption I am the emblem; I’m a branch of fractal downward; Of struggles past I ain't no award. I am a beast, I am a fork, I am a breach through inert soil; I’m a head of the hydra snake; Consolation in all of mistakes; I’m the blood of the wounded, The brain of memories faded. I am a blink, I am a cause, I am the storm after the pause; I’m the pity for the angered; Whose duties have been tempered. I'm the eye that's about to drool And the tooth that's bound to fool. I am silver when I am gold, Yes I am pale when I grow bold, Like an etching on a clean surface I'll be sanded just to be varnished; I'm the most certain of prediction, Foreseeable beyond provision. I am ludicrous, I am lukewarm, I am commitment amidst cold wars; I’m the frontier around the form And the earth that drowns the worm; Of victory I am some defeat, Accomplishment left incomplete. I am a meter, I am a yard, I am pain that causes no harm; I'm the scepter of the peasant, The suffering in the pleasant; I'm everything that's ever been said, All that's forgotten once it's been read. I am a sin, yes I am sought, I am a child yet to be mourned; I’m resistance to the inevitable, Recurrence of the unstable; I’m the distance of departures, The first minutes of final hours. I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission, The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large.
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Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
I Am a Beat (2019)
I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission; The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large. I am a ball, I am a cell, I am the will of higher selves; I’m a layer of the kernel, Flying on seat "57L"; I’m a letter that was sent to mail, Set outbound when rings the bell. I am a curve, I am twirl, I am sustained motion still unfurled; I’m necessity in the system; Of absorption I am the emblem; I’m a branch of fractal downward; Of struggles past I ain't no award. I am a beast, I am a fork, I am a breach through inert soil; I’m a head of the hydra snake; Consolation in all of mistakes; I’m the blood of the wounded, The brain of memories faded. I am a blink, I am a cause, I am the storm after the pause; I’m the pity for the angered; Whose duties have been tempered. I'm the eye that's about to drool And the tooth that's bound to fool. I am silver when I am gold, Yes I am pale when I grow bold, Like an etching on a clean surface I'll be sanded just to be varnished; I'm the most certain of prediction, Foreseeable beyond provision. I am ludicrous, I am lukewarm, I am commitment amidst cold wars; I’m the frontier around the form And the earth that drowns the worm; Of victory I am some defeat, Accomplishment left incomplete. I am a meter, I am a yard, I am pain that causes no harm; I'm the scepter of the peasant, The suffering in the pleasant; I'm everything that's ever been said, All that's forgotten once it's been read. I am a sin, yes I am sought, I am a child yet to be mourned; I’m resistance to the inevitable, Recurrence of the unstable; I’m the distance of departures, The first minutes of final hours. I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission, The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large.
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60
Referees mismanage oversight incorrect calls lower credibility faith in justice dissolves into the ice agency is taken into padded hands vigilantes slash and spear. Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check malignant hostility boils over leather armor is removed interphalangeal joints meet mandible type O negative paints a jersey haymakers take bizarre trajectories to avoid helmets and visors the face is homebase to ingrain pain. Violence subverts gamesmanship players must be taken off ice to be put on ice otherwise brawls become overabundant and destroy the integrity of the sport yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying —considering the context— so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future we organize an impenetrable perimeter once we've acclimated to penalty kills.
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Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 4:01 PM UTC
Hockey Fights
With passing days queued up for the forecast foreseeable Tuck into the routines' reserves deplete when permissible Shot through the feet with what we can't forget run on through the limp past the end of the sentence and sit In the glow remain undeveloped stay unreconstructed drop the curtain on scenes interrupted Dot your i's with up-slanted slash marks sparks fill my eyes when I read through your retorts Blank page. Blank page. A waltz through a minefield reeling jigs over headstones when digging through plain white lines
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Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Slash Marks
~~ First & Foremost ~~~ a friendly competition, not of erudition, more a contest of speedy eruption *who will be first, for quenching their thirst, on not any but only every, day of their togetherness, to declare, swear, affirm, that their love for the other is the greater* a race where both win, by crossing the ever-moving forward, the unfinished line a never static series, much more than merely being a claimant of a trite first place, more akin to momentarily being at the head of an unending mathematical progression, (1 + 1 > 2) solvable if and when leap frogging over each other, extending their combined reach *when one is first to pronounce this daily blessing at the beginning of the new awakening twenty four, of their joint custodied imprimatur, silently implied, I love you with a simple syrup summary* first and foremost one, if by pillowed whisper two, if by text *a succint messag to the other, their love is coming fresh direct, with an invading intensio, deserving recognition that a new edition will be published on this very day, with the same exact freshly steaming coffee'd, bannered headline, that my love for you, my darling sweetheart is* first and foremost condensing with a yellowing smiley face, in these illiterate days of emoticons, unacceptable, yellow carded, though summarizing acceptable as **F & F or 1st/most** formats that have been adjudged to be an A-Ok entry, in the contest without a foreseeable ending and *that no one, but only both, can possess the winning record* ~~~
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Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
F & F (1st/most)
~~ First & Foremost ~~~ a friendly competition, not of erudition, more a contest of speedy eruption *who will be first, for quenching their thirst, on not any but only every, day of their togetherness, to declare, swear, affirm, that their love for the other is the greater* a race where both win, by crossing the ever-moving forward, the unfinished line a never static series, much more than merely being a claimant of a trite first place, more akin to momentarily being at the head of an unending mathematical progression, (1 + 1 > 2) solvable if and when leap frogging over each other, extending their combined reach *when one is first to pronounce this daily blessing at the beginning of the new awakening twenty four, of their joint custodied imprimatur, silently implied, I love you with a simple syrup summary* first and foremost one, if by pillowed whisper two, if by text *a succint messag to the other, their love is coming fresh direct, with an invading intensio, deserving recognition that a new edition will be published on this very day, with the same exact freshly steaming coffee'd, bannered headline, that my love for you, my darling sweetheart is* first and foremost condensing with a yellowing smiley face, in these illiterate days of emoticons, unacceptable, yellow carded, though summarizing acceptable as **F & F or 1st/most** formats that have been adjudged to be an A-Ok entry, in the contest without a foreseeable ending and *that no one, but only both, can possess the winning record* ~~~
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83
Why do I feel nothing inside except a swelling? The swelling of my thumping heart, the swelling and contraction of my lungs as I attempt to steady the breathing that could either enslave me or, again, save me from his temperamental turns, and the swelling of my stomach - punished again in a cruel 'twist' of fate that has, in reality, turned out not to be so much a twist, but a vile habit. Isn't it an awful thing when you know exactly what the problem is and exactly how to fix it, but matters out of your hands mean that you will not be able to save yourself for the foreseeable future? Perhaps, in the knowledge that you are a lost cause, you may jump, for a person with nothing to lose surely has nothing to fear. Jump from where, though? That is is the question. To jump from a height may be foolish, but to jump from ground-level is absurd. "Listen to me. You can see nothing from where I am standing. I am in the hills, beyond your visibility. It strikes me that I may be able to see more than you ever will. I straddle the past, present and future, and any other dimension of time that exists beyond your perception. Understand that you need not understand. Place your trust in my words; my wisdom, because I can see. I can see it all. You are man, designed simply to live in reality, not in the acknowledgement of the complexities that lie beyond your existence."
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Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Leap of Faith
Tables have turned. Seas have parted. Cracks filled. Edges filed. Tempestuous weather has been bestowed upon the misanthrope. Red, once white bandages, cover up the cut throat. Naivete is labeled onto those who seek hope. Never showing is worse than time taking its course. Hoping that a course is precedent in the time of a foreseeable corpse, of course. Eyes closed, a young man close by exclaims, "Fresh to death!" Rotting flesh, covered by a Maker's Mark, or a Target, never something seen Beneficial. It's not like we could ever Shop Rite. But as this young man exclaims a new age adage, I close my eyes, and hope and pray that he's right.
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
Fresh To Death
~~ A wreath was made in this garden which I was left on your feet I tuned up all in the world of music will this burn clear after the death    when you went through I wrote a song in the dark Though as much as I drink nectar will ever this insatiable thirst be satisfied without you You kept best in tune Ah! Ever it honey Today the pain is lorn If any foreseeable Regret Even the river, Flowing beyond I know, you do not turn do not play that song again But the heart wants a little bliss I'm wandering lonely In the obsessed of known tunes Stand at the gloom night's On the shore of the past ~~   ~মুশফিক উস সালেহীন
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Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
gloom night's on the shore of the past
burdens carried are behind me now fleet of foot, my steps tarry not freedom from all that far too long beset me clamor no more for my attention thoughts lightened spirited forth, future foreseeable, my soul soars like an eagle assail in seas of cloudless cerulean skies and ... burdens I carried are behind me now.
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Behind me now
Awoken I receive a sight of celestial beauty, Awoken, I gracefully lie safe in your affable aurora, Awoken, our fluent dance of both heart and mind appears only eternally foreseeable. Awake, the mere construction of you dwindles, It was just a dream, I should have known.
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Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
A Dream
sizzling hot, melted rock rise up from the earth, split twain a cracked moon, breaking soon resting neatly overhead the sky turns purple the stars go out it is night for everything foreseeable
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Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:10 AM UTC
In Time