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"frontward" poems
Fluorescent uplit lights Throws no shadows Shows no life No vestiges therein Monitors' frontward glow Radiates no future, no past Well lit death No matrix destination The rows and cubes behold A conformed neatness An oppression A regime built against creation The soul flutters above Unseen but seeming To hold life The inexorable dullness of life
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Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 6:51 PM UTC
Modernity
everything is energy moving forward, backward, sideward, warding off the black white finity, crashing upward, downward, frontward this is limitless now let's fly
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
abyss
I rest my hand upon the giant rock called Dark One. I feel him relax as he gets used to the feeling of flesh breaking the sensation of water and salt. As he exhales, so do i. I lean over a ledge, holding on to Dark One, to feel a sense of secure danger. I no longer feel the ground, I no longer feel my feet. The salty mist of the ocean sprays my face, flipping my hair frontward and back. As I lean over Dark One’s feet, I contemplate what I will do next. My grip on Dark One becomes loose, and for a moment, I feel the sense of danger I had asked for. For a moment, I felt release. In that moment, with security, Dark One saved me.
 I bring myself closer to Dark One, and press myself to his cold, wet frame. I can almost feel him lifting up and down, breathing. I feel myself lifting. There is nothing beneath me. There is only Dark One in front of me. “Where are you taking me, Dark One?” I ask through my spirit. “I am removing your sorrows, I am taking your pain” he says. As he spoke, I grew numb in my legs, then my core, as it passed my ***** I smiled in a sighed relief. I took my last breath and I became part of Dark One. I can no longer move, I no longer need breathe. I gaze out over upon the sea as its salty mist sprays Dark One and me.
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 8:10 PM UTC
Dark One
Going frontward, and backward Through the times of my life Looking at love, and looking at strife Seeing what shaped me Into what I've become interested in where I'm from. My love of all, as well as fear Both trying to control me But I know its love that can set me free I must let go of fear and cling to a love that's true So I may find a love in you. Beauty in all that you are I see freedom in you, You turn my ash grey eyes back to blue You can light my way How can you be so bright I am soothed by your warm light You uplift my soul -- You make me whole -- Only you -- Could do -- This.
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Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
Only You Could Do This
Thumbs hooked through jean belt loops, pulling her to you. You kiss. Over and over again, you kiss: so many quick little pecks in a row. I hope you don't kiss your mother like that, but is SHE your mama bird? It's like you take nourishment from her kisses. Is she dropping food into your mouth? So greedy, can't get enough. Of her time, either. The odd purity that comes from being complemented for the first time this way. How she leans against your knee, she's the missing puzzle piece. The crook of her neck, there, just there. The pressure where she uses you for a chin rest. During any violent-as-you-wish T.V. show and she'd even be cool to chill with you when you're with your bro's. Though alone time is the best. All that you could ask for, through hills and valleys you ride along. Everything is smooth and firm, smooth and firm. Smooth, no hiccup in the road. Firm is the belief in the reliability of the course. They're hot; the heat rushes through them, complete. Ain't never gonna feel this way again. Not with anybody else. You two could lie in bed all day. We're making relationship flambe. A secret recipe of inside jokes and somebody finally wanting your ingredients, lit afire by some mystery combustible. You'd deny 'til you were hoarse that it's only flash in the pan. Until one day, it seems like- how can you have all these shared memories, all this love, yet it's still as if the person standing there is barely the same person from before? No more pulling her frontward or backward by her belt loops, always pulling her toward the pulse of your passion. But the beat of love's life, at least, grows faint, and she threatens to take you out with it. He'd seen her raise the gun, for all the good it did. A bullet hole in his forehead And it's like his third eye's crying blood. He didn't want to see what he saw too long ago. And he just delayed their misery. Do you take your meat rare? This cut's dripping in disillusion, the animal neutralized, a dead bag of blood and bones. No; you're still all-too human, though. Alone in a room, it's all you can do to remember to breathe. But that's step one.
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
Young Love
Thumbs hooked through jean belt loops, pulling her to you. You kiss. Over and over again, you kiss: so many quick little pecks in a row. I hope you don't kiss your mother like that, but is SHE your mama bird? It's like you take nourishment from her kisses. Is she dropping food into your mouth? So greedy, can't get enough. Of her time, either. The odd purity that comes from being complemented for the first time this way. How she leans against your knee, she's the missing puzzle piece. The crook of her neck, there, just there. The pressure where she uses you for a chin rest. During any violent-as-you-wish T.V. show and she'd even be cool to chill with you when you're with your bro's. Though alone time is the best. All that you could ask for, through hills and valleys you ride along. Everything is smooth and firm, smooth and firm. Smooth, no hiccup in the road. Firm is the belief in the reliability of the course. They're hot; the heat rushes through them, complete. Ain't never gonna feel this way again. Not with anybody else. You two could lie in bed all day. We're making relationship flambe. A secret recipe of inside jokes and somebody finally wanting your ingredients, lit afire by some mystery combustible. You'd deny 'til you were hoarse that it's only flash in the pan. Until one day, it seems like- how can you have all these shared memories, all this love, yet it's still as if the person standing there is barely the same person from before? No more pulling her frontward or backward by her belt loops, always pulling her toward the pulse of your passion. But the beat of love's life, at least, grows faint, and she threatens to take you out with it. He'd seen her raise the gun, for all the good it did. A bullet hole in his forehead And it's like his third eye's crying blood. He didn't want to see what he saw too long ago. And he just delayed their misery. Do you take your meat rare? This cut's dripping in disillusion, the animal neutralized, a dead bag of blood and bones. No; you're still all-too human, though. Alone in a room, it's all you can do to remember to breathe. But that's step one.
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My advice. Let noone knock you down, noone! When they do get back up, humans seem to wanna bring another down anymore. What the hell happened? Where's the one helping the less fortunate out? Where's the one where love is love and hate is past tense . where are we as a kind! ? Helping another? Giving to another! Knowing what's in your purse or wallet isn't all there is to life! Life's **** precious. So ponder this word. Take it as it is. Even when I'm having a bad day at work, home, or anywhere I well know to treat others good. If we start treating others like we want to be treated we might get somewhere, yet seems we're going backwards not frontward on. What happened? Guess that's for each individual to decide.
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
Deciding fate