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"frictional" poems
endless pacing of these subaquatic halls almost catatonic until I remember how to think and then I cry I should be dead I was dead free from this painful existence until something - the WAU - brought me back in it's skewed mission to preserve humanity the WAU stitched me back together with its gel of life hardly human hardly conscious but conscious enough to hate what I am and cry over my own existence misery then anger I am half myself half WAU angry craving to **** hurt end whatever stumbles across my path in my habitual walks through these corridoors I see him something else another who is aware oh what I wouldn't give to have another sentient creature to curb my loneliness but- NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! the WAU starts talking **** him he doesn't want you to exist he will prevent you from being with me you need me we need each other he wants to end us to end life he must be extinguished for the sake of preserving humanity find him chase him **** HIM in my pursuit of the sentient diving suit I recognize his fear and my humanity comes back to me and I weep he is so afraid of who I am the Frankenstein the predator seeking prey I cry because this is who I am I cry because I don't want to hurt him I cry because I am alive constantly torn between animalistic rage and the self aware misery of realizing what I am I want someone to hold me and make me feel human but I don't want any conscious creature to get near me for the WAU is controlling the strings of this puppet it is the reason I exist it gives me the sustenance I need and crave to keep on hating my own existence it will make me **** anything that crosses my path I think and I weep
0
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
THE ROBOT GIRL (A POEM ABOUT THE VIDEO GAME SOMA BY FRICTIONAL GAMES)
endless pacing of these subaquatic halls almost catatonic until I remember how to think and then I cry I should be dead I was dead free from this painful existence until something - the WAU - brought me back in it's skewed mission to preserve humanity the WAU stitched me back together with its gel of life hardly human hardly conscious but conscious enough to hate what I am and cry over my own existence misery then anger I am half myself half WAU angry craving to **** hurt end whatever stumbles across my path in my habitual walks through these corridoors I see him something else another who is aware oh what I wouldn't give to have another sentient creature to curb my loneliness but- NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! the WAU starts talking **** him he doesn't want you to exist he will prevent you from being with me you need me we need each other he wants to end us to end life he must be extinguished for the sake of preserving humanity find him chase him **** HIM in my pursuit of the sentient diving suit I recognize his fear and my humanity comes back to me and I weep he is so afraid of who I am the Frankenstein the predator seeking prey I cry because this is who I am I cry because I don't want to hurt him I cry because I am alive constantly torn between animalistic rage and the self aware misery of realizing what I am I want someone to hold me and make me feel human but I don't want any conscious creature to get near me for the WAU is controlling the strings of this puppet it is the reason I exist it gives me the sustenance I need and crave to keep on hating my own existence it will make me **** anything that crosses my path I think and I weep
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We were, A treat to the eyes A myth to their lies The silver lining of innocence In the end of a viscious tie We were as painfully beautiful As the sparks that fly out of two frictional objects Wearing and tearing the edges apart And yet, the little fireworks show attract audience People really do love to observe destruction First slowly yet steadily and then, All at once
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Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Frictional sparks
Breathless in the winters ewe,valentines the adolescent passion, smiless like a drought world,tears creating up a dam,heart breakers proccess,pronounce and procceed daily a day to remember,swimming, slimming tear fall.calf love will never take you down,it reaches your beautiful inside,traps and translate you'r kindnes into a devil evil's bin.smash your mind into darknes,calf love is a herd of brocken hearts,dissapointments,it inherite trust and close of honnesty but when u once own it,you will never re think,than to re use.sense the heat of frictional emotional force,calf love bunks,sticks and turn,lean above lime light and its ectacy,charge and interchange nor interacts the internal lies,calf love is a misery of ones soul
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May 7, 2011
May 7, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
Calf-love
The need for love is obsolete - and dead When life is so fast with frictional vice Body on body turning in your bed Betwixt the sheets with no love but still nice No need for bitter moans, anger just lust When a solo gains more credit than a Duo torn by *** fading into dust Grounded down into nothing day by day. Whilst I exist without my mirror soul Generates views of empty and hopeless By lovers who will ask if I feel whole And filling it with a vacant caress? My answer is - I don't need any luck 'Cause frankly my dear, I don't give a ****
0
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
An Anti-Sonnet: 'Singledom - a thought'
We run our course We go the extra mile We stay up sustaining immortality Our deaths turned round Projects on behalf of Eros When we usually preach Agape We enact sequential art performed with grace Luna tunes colored water splashable you In person honey with unlimited shelf life We mate across spanned labyrinths a maze Combs ensconced with nectar leading back to queen Our hive stops the minute drones bring home virus Reconstructed renewability narrative needing update Horton hears who made the sky say so much Way past expiration date skids our frictional kiss We could almost imagine eternity naming the date Mutual assured destruction averted by forming pact Loosens the chain reaction fused by fission escalated To the max man’s post-apocalyptic grocery store tale Sells e-foods gold light fear energy time bubble Dimension X Dash between dates tombstoned selfie virtual cemetery Tandem lovers pass together clasping each last breath alone Little deaths punctuate like piano keys pluck cat gut strums Enameled amber encased in static slabs conjoined by fringe elements
0
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
Shelf Life
A bit of another story for someday when we can make the time, to think how old river tales are, those ones when a river is bent, to the will of empires, using tiny autonomic nanobots, scene human scale. Here your mind crossed mine in all probability exactly once, just right, it all was just fine, grinding to a halt, frictional tension, old blisters recollected as reminders, what the science misthought right, and sold mysteriously, for the promise to pay all the taxes you manage to squeeze, from the cash cows digital representation, brass bull, where once stood a golden calf, in the blood of a red heifer and a white buffalo.
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Mar 24, 2023
Mar 24, 2023 at 12:16 AM UTC
These days things change
Who said you will be died at Israel? The Holly land, you made a frictional movie of Hollywood You are a fake to your children Cut off pen of peace, Your homemade cluster bombs, Killed humanity The children of Gaza, Innocent pale petals Euphoric face of prophet And they only depends on the Allah - And after Jesus WE said to the Children of Israel, Dwell Ye in the Promised Land; and when the time of the promise of the Latter Days come, WE shall bring you together out of various people @ Musfiq us shaleheen
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 4:48 AM UTC
To Netanyahu: the butcher who never believe in love
amid pentagrams satelliting my mind an outward location of an ostentation that lids a voyeuristic eye to Da Vinci’ fingers in a jar waiting anxiously for them to move, perform an ****** panache of evocative art but they are congealed in a stalactite shiver that lacks transmitted urgency but contact with these enigmatic digits causes a correspondingly delayed then urgently convulsive frenzy that somewhere in time bring frictional contact with a canvas or a ceiling Da Vinci’ fingers in a jar an outward location of unclasped curiosity
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Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
Da Vinci' fingers in a jar
The need for love is obsolete - and dead When life is so fast with frictional vice Body on body turning in your bed Betwixt the sheets with no love but still nice No need for bitter moans of anger j
0
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Untitled
our time apart hadn’t changed, his baritonal voice caused me to tremble each syllable spoken; soft & silky, its frictional rustle like wheat bending in the breeze I absorb him... he feels me, revealing inner soul annihilating me pleasurably, riding wings of his voice, spiraling, like wisps of smoke yearning to hear articulations desire maestro of my being, smitten with his baritone his breathiness I breathe... like a summer's breeze
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Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
A Summer's Breeze
I am jealous of spiders Those small, poisonous creatures They don't care how small they are Or how weak they are They fight for their life despite the conditions They hunt their prey without hesitation Without pity Without fear They can enter any room They don't need your permission They all know their purpose They all fight for their purpose They catch or become food They can create their world however they want No one tells them how to connect their strings They are clever That's what makes them deadly They are small That's what extends their limits They are selfish That's what helps them survive Their tiny-dark eyes Those small marbles that extend their vision to places the human eye could never reach Their infestation of twisted legs Those agile limbs that move them with surprising speed and balance through any kind of frictional surface They exist in every corner Creep through every opening They could crawl up your skin, Plant their deadly kiss under the tissues of your outer layers, Leading you to an agonizing swell of chemicals that tare and torture your nerves and muscles The aftereffects are as countless as the number of their species Pain Nausea Headics Paralysis And if you are lucky enough, Death You could have one of these You could have all of these They don't care They are spiders, And for them You are a their predator And their next victim
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Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
The Merciless Hunters
*** is good for health, I was told I remember the other night in the room Alone with Philomena since noon She allured me with her inflated 'balloon' and I couldn't resist dancing to her tune. For the first time fantasies met reality, I smiled People get encountered with the Holy Spirit But mine? Mine was with a woman I had no license to touch. My sulky dependency on God was laid to rest As soon as I got Philomena undressed Now, we were going to have more than just glimpse We tossed and turned in our plight Our mission was to satisfy ourselves until the sun shows light I turned her around, sat up and kissed her With delight, I made her ride on top of me Moaning and whimpering was our ****** instrument A frictional force was created from each of our bodies as the hours passed by Lying still, my breath caught up in my chest It seemed like the voyage had taken forever and also just begun – all at the same time After the 'genging and banging' had settled and Philomena was deeply asleep, My anxieties were also put to sleep I opened the window, Turned to Philomena, and in sorrow, gripped the pillow. The stupidity in me had traded my dignity for shame before my God It was the night I cursed myself What to tell my creator is still left scrambled *** is good for health, I was told Having it with the right person And at the right time, I never listened Science and reasoning taught me the former But the Bible... Jesus prefers the latter
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Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
The Affair
I am in touch with myself, especially in the wee hours of the morning. That's when I feel closest to you, lost in fiery imaginations, wishing you were here to feel the heat created by my frictional thoughts of you. O Baby Doll, You're so hot, I'm burning up in you.
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Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 6:15 AM UTC
I Have Lots Of Wee Hour Thoughts Of You
The joy. Christ wouldn't complain. The smile. Christ wouldn't complain. To see a child smiling upon Christmas' Day. He's aware of his importance to us. And comprehend Santa's importance. Whether he's frictional. Just remember Christ wouldn't complain. We hear people forget the reason for the season without contemplating the joy of the occasion. Even if adults loves to tell an innocent child that Ole St. Nick truly isn't real. Within time, they come to realize certain events of how great parents are to them. Just know one thing stands true. Christ wouldn't complain. Not if, a smile is upon someone face. Cause Joy To the World we all should seek. Not because of the holiday's seasons. Funny, when Christmas comes around we find every ministers wanting others to put Santa's down. As if, JESUS would be upset to share his love with him. Christ, be the first to recognize him. Cause Christ wouldn't complain. Not if the world was at peace.
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Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Christ Wouldn't Complain
Rustling winds of spring, spread through, half open oak branches, Shrew peeps her button nose throwing a tidy pile of earth, Near the crystal falls, Spring rain darts through infrequently, Before amber nectar eyes, like a vale of intrigue , Hovering; a blue *** Chirpes questions Sparks of a teale flame, Pearl along aimlessly, Through crowded doors, and empty rooms,. A rooster awoke; today's flower, Bellowing of frightened hollows, along frictional caves, Rattling off its distractions, Ever more engaged, Healing with its new sound, Shrew meets the blue *** Pecked into the old oak - Blue *** Today is the day Shrew; to finish enchanting.
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May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
Tangled dance
Run and tell this. I love. I adore you. Place only God above you. Now, run and tell that. We seems bent on spreading all the wrong information. Except when it comes to spreading news concerning us. And if we do. We edit down the facts to make it seems frictional. Now, run and tell that. Be not afraid to let love shine upon your face. It's a reason for it creation. So, run and tell this. Spread it, by mouth. Text it, by hand. Write it. Again and again. And then let the message of the statement sinks in. When you run and tell it. I love. I adore you. And that it's forever more.
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Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
Now Run and Tell That
Coat me baby, paint me honey, make me really happy darling, basking in the glistening of our frictional-love. You are the only one.
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
You Are The Only One To Paint Me
Wave A piston moves up and down, just as life does. The greater the vertical distance, or stroke, a piston travels, the more energy is made. A greater surface area, or bore, to the piston latitude, will also increase the energy output. Higher energy transfer translates to increased frictional wear. Since engines must be balanced, for every upstroke, there is a downstroke.
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Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 7:34 AM UTC
darkest before dawn
I can't dominate my cognition it's a fuckin' storm a wild tide I’m sinking in it wrapped in it aside. In this pushy blow of cognition I could fly travel in time leave God behind But at what limitations? And more's ! More's ! More's ! Like I'm streaming on Youtube with frictional shows! I wish I could think beyond boundaries As I imagine I compose! In cognition— What if I could roam in time? What if I could fly? What if!? What if!? What if!? More's More's More's. ~what if~
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Feb 4, 2025
Feb 4, 2025 at 10:22 AM UTC
What if !?
Sitting on a cold, hard, wooden floor, leaning against cold, hard, rocky walls, listening to cold, hard, heartfelt lyrics, writing some cold, hard, rough draft poetry; hoping for a little warmth, like a few left feet on a wooden floor, sparking like two frictional stones, while listening to your steadily cool heartbeat to motivate this rough draft into a masterpiece of marinated inspiration.
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May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Sitting, leaning, listening, and writing....
Strange, that some never learned from history of facts. Especially during elections when people's stupidity rules. Funny, when any candidate talks about military defense of America, It's as if they under this impression we vulnerable to attacks. But, aren't we all? They push wars like its something to push. When history stands now we in for a long haul of wars and bodies bags. Cause any enemies you make eventually retaliate. Then they call the other a liar concerning certain facts. Mixed with frictional substances of reporting. Then more likely cause she's a woman. That alone intimidate many politicians and some males in general. Yes, people's stupidity rules in society. And when candidates speaks lies strange the way WE buy it. But we only pinpoint it out on one.
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
People's Stupidity (During Election)
_____ The legacy of humanity hangs precariously Upon their own blinded whims of fortune – While faith is seasoned by the labour invested, In the banquet of faith’s supplication. Yet instead of harmonious voices, their frictional Howls intertwine as a dog chasing after cars– Those parked must seem a feast to the naïve, Whose journey is dictated by the drive of others – So simple-minded, solely to blend in with the crowd, As indeed, wealth wields power - it challenges Every muscle and very sentiment.
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Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 4:13 PM UTC
Money is the sentiment of the blind