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"getters" poems
her rigorous objections are herded slowly down the sheep trail by studious pencil thin men with stylish mustache's who have deep pocket pickers for friends they gather round the weak willed and the willing alike looking for cheap thrills and spare change everybody needs a new road when the old one seems to never end but she with eyes cast down mumbles her unappeased desires as she shuffles a little closer to the truth as she sees it she has it all written out in secret languages she has books filled with life's coded thoughts as she see's them barn burners and dare devils grace the cover of her latest creation self titled to her own romantic name she is stylized in her own way so she adores the pencil thin men with their dashing devil may care good looks i wrote her a letter yesterday full of stories from the great highway full of chipper go getters and the glum go gotten she is a forever stone on a necklace she is a moonstone on a bracelet she is graceful when it counts and thats more than enough for me the pencil thin moustache men come to conquer the all night diners in the small shoreline towns but slink away in dawns first light with stolen smiles and borrowed kisses that they promise profusely to return tomorrow but never do such is the romantic night by her side such is the wonder-wheel days of our journey on the great highway
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Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
the pencil thin moustache men
I smile all the time because I don't want to be sad, I work towards my goals because one day I'll be glad, I'm on a search so ill start with inside, And I do fail ill be happy I tried, Shout out to the movers, the getters, the doers, Leave the old you behind today couldn't be newer, I can see in your eyes i can feel through your heart, Nothings to hard just be willing to start, This life is a risk so please take your chance, Might not be a party but still we should dance, You can cuss at the rain or think of the flower, You can be super use perspective as power, Hopped in the rocket told Louie to the moon, Finally got my chance results coming soon.
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Smile
At this deep pool Where no light is reflected, Where small birds come Clinging to the vine Amongst fallen logs and silences, The crush of leaves and the rot of years. At this dark edge Where now unassailable trees tower In a brief clearing, At this still centre where the wreckage lies Of river's breach and storm's rage. Here at the heart. Where once the workings of long-ago men, The wild, roaring, toothless ones, Desperate and dislocated, Their fierce eyes blazing through dark, And bodies by day burning through timber, Cut sunlight in shadow And nation in nature.
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Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
The Timber Getters
Every time you take a leap There’s someone pulling on your shoe To pull you back and try to keep You from doing what you do Naysayers! Jealous ones, Block-your-sun, Wreck-your-fun Gloom mayors The ones who simply won’t believe You hold the power to achieve But they don’t know what you can do How strong you are, they don’t know you So we won’t let them in our way We’ll pay no mind to nayers’ say They’ll have to judge us from afar For they don’t know just what we are: No-fretters Can’t-bother-me Get-off-my-tree “I-will-succeed” Go-getters Soon enough they’ll surely see Just how mighty we can be
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
The Bullies Beyond the Schoolyard
Driving along What's that I smell The daily delight Of the latest roadkill From raccoons to possums In this flattened cuisine As vultures take lunches On this finest of dining Call us the critter getters Crossing over our paths Taking them out As they scurry this way and that From Bambi to Thumper And all their forest friends It does make you wonder Who you'll run into next We'll even take out the curious Who wander on To that portion of blacktop To see what's going on From teetotaling turtles To slithering snakes There's not a creature out there That we won't pancake So check out the roadkill If there's still twitch after the thump Hurry in back And toss it into the trunk Because down in the South There ain't no one can say That any of us country folk Let a thing go to waste Below the Mason Dixon line If it's fresh enough We'll take it home ya'll And have it for lunch As long as it's fried There ain't a thing With cheese grits on the side That we won't eat
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Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
Roadkill Vittles
No one person's personality is unique in any way. If you've at some time been exposed to a television set, a film, a piece of music, a book, a magazine, or people in a closed environment, then you are not in any way, shape, or form an original person. We are all just composites of the things we've come in contact with during our lives, we pick up the things we think we want, or need and apply them to ourselves, and sometimes it's a sham, and sometimes it feels real. The only way to be original is to be put out of society the moment you're born, but even then you may take on the characteristics of the wildlife you come in contact with... so apparently you're ****** no matter what. I suppose what makes a person unique is the way they mash up all the **** that they've been exposed to, whether they do it in a somewhat original fashion, or if they do it in a way that is similar to those around them. Societies fear those who do not take the path of least resistance, and those are the people we call "unique", "different", "ugly", "weird", "stupid", "genius", "freak", "amazing", "loser". They're the attention getters, and those who seek to get attention. The ones that take the easy road to be accepted, they're the one's outshined, and they have to get revenge some way, why not talk **** I can say though, that I feel real, I don't feel like I'm putting up a front for anyone. Most days I like who I am, most days I lie, most days I'm honest. Circa 2009
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
Throwback
A message for you young truckers, You long lovers, You schmucks, ***** and go-getters... This is as good as it gets. The truth is, school ***** And so does your 9 to 5 part-time job, But this is the time to find prime opportunities to get carried away and run To say all the wrong things at all the right seconds And to never, EVER get caught drinking your parents' *** Be bummy, be a druggy, be a top score, or be the eye sore of the student body But you will never be nobody... You will NEVER be nobody. Let somebody tell you they don't remember your name, Then give that chump a reason to never forget Because in this game of high school social status, there's no such thing as a winner And you deserve whatever respect you let people neglect you of. **** 10 year reunions, that cute girl in math class still won't think of you Unless you act now, before you're ten years too late. If you want something, you better learn to work for it, Because these are the easy years, the queazy years, the "let's ditch and smoke a bleezy" years. And before you know it, you'll be tap dancing on a keyboard when you should be working Warning the youngins that their glory years are just about done.
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
For The Youngins
You can't preach about change and then do nothing about it. You sit behind your TV's and watch as other people take the hit. You can't help the lesser, 'cause neutrality only helps the oppressor. How can you fight for the cause by following all the laws? The battle will never be won while we're living under loaded gun. Just because your fist is in the air doesn't mean you actually care. We'll **** out the fake protestors and replace them with the real go-getters. Because we are the believers of another fate, one that doesn't end in violence and hate. Peace is always the answer, but justice comes first. We've gotta get out of this country, because the government's ******* cursed.
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Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Evolution/Revolution
They stay vigil, ever waiting the new design of sigils. Kinda simple, keep their fingers pressed to pimples, The pus a pit of petered parts, Perceived by the reckoning of depleted hearts. I rushed the doors at the sound of a great escape, The process a repeat coordination of hurry up and wait. Ever balking at the atrocities of cost, Average Joes chasing dreams at the velocity of sloths. How to be content with immense disparity? Hands out faking quivers, shaking for some charity. Forsaken someones somewhere surviving on a sliver, Watching all the getters, I see myself a giver.
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Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 8:32 PM UTC
The Memory Collectors
in the in-betweens and half-steps you took me away, into and out of the go-getters and lay-lowers with you, the en-compass-ing points of origin do not end so you bring me back to a beginning.
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
beyond 186,000 miles per second
It's only a problem when the male speaks the truth. Well, least talking about a woman's beauty. But many, yes many ladies are attention getters. Similar to a handsome man getting compliments when they enter the room. They get notice, even if a word's never said. They turn heads. Most attention getters don't have to speak a word. But can get any man or woman.
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Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
The Attention Getter
did you know that i once saw you looking down from your window toward the avenue pierre and the wind rustled the oak trees while you wrote and the tourists took their photos looking out through their lenses at the things that were not there and the wind blew threw the tower all the while and i watched you trace the letters all the upstarts and go-getters they can't make it any better if you're trying to forget her so forget it, take the high road and you watch your daytime talk shows and all the while the river seine flows and you'll never ever ever ever know that all those times i saw you i couldn't see right through you no matter how i strained my eyes and the wind took all the colors with the night
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Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 10:05 AM UTC
avenue pierre
Hope thrown on the still steaming ashes of the old empire fusing with the hearts of freethinkers and go getters burning beneath the chest of women and man turning young people into dragons with amber colored eyes and wings that stretch a mile high Reaching above the blinding smoke of broken industry grabbing at the setting sun with still ****** claws Will they burn out never to know why the heavens glow, or maybe this is just the beginning the match that lights the torch The wild fire that consumes cleansing and purifying to bring on a new life maybe not for me or you, more likely for the ones long after Leaving only remnants of the ones who dared to become dragons to be remembered as a roaring flame whose dreams where embers with veins like gasoline filled rivers running just beneath the skin ready to be pierced ready to burst and ignite.
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
Year of the Dragon
Life built on dreaming big No excuse is good enough A better view worth having Empty pockets gather lent Society measures the strength False looks see sudden u-turns Caution dreamers chase pesos Go getters invent ways to spend
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Nov 16, 2009
Nov 16, 2009 at 7:20 PM UTC
Money Has Its Place
I peeled back the skin on the clementine, your silhouette stood in front of the counter as you urged me to aim slices at your mouth, The echo of my laugh stained the walls. This time, when I peeled its poignant skin back, your silhouette was not there. I found the molded tickets to the music festival we only brought three dollars to, It was enough to buy us a greased bag of bacon slices. Thank God water is free. I mistakenly wore your Superman boxers to bed for three weeks until I realized they were yours. I went to bed every time in them feeling oh so super, oh so nostalgic, oh so happy. I threw them away the moment I remembered that they touched your skin. I  decontaminated my room. I peeled back the emotional blanket today, My emotions were naked; exposed as I found the condoms we planned to use for Valentine's Day. The long distance between us morphed us into planners instead of go-getters. The go-getters were the ones that fell in love. The planners were the ones that lost each other among the open fields separating us.
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Peeled back [EXPOSED]
How dare you I'm the one that kept you company So you would sleep all day after Didn't it feel good? Remember what we talked about? The music we found, the sketches we made Please don't talk about that Don't bring up the anxiety What a word, anyways! Right?! Anxiety. Doesn't even sound good when you say it You could function. Maybe you weren't who you wanted to be but you did fine. We did fine Pills to sleep? I hope you become the best of friends. You and those pills. You're gonna be one of them, you know. One of the go-getters. The tight-collared robots that march around like they own the night. They didn't stay up like us. They don't know the night. Fine. Take the pills. Get up with the sun. See if I miss you. I won't. Not even some.
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
Death to the insomniac!
Push it down, deep down beneath, Let it boil, let it roll, let it seethe, The careless eye shall miss it all, One word to them, amidst the deafening scrawl, Take this moment in, simply breathe. I don't need to deal, don't need to cope, I live each day, with a dream and hope, I'm not broken, you'll see, I can laugh, and be wild, and act free, Does it look as if misery holds me tight in rope? Breath fills my lungs, I live another day, This world is mine, moldable as clay, Loss touches the hearts of all World Chasers, The Go-Getters, the Fastest-Pacers, We see the light, shining through the grey. So long as we do not contemplate our loss, Clinging to our hearts as thick as the aging moss.
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
One Breath More
merry setter, merry go round of go-getters, attempting to lurch at the next bit of bread, the bourgeois making their bets, sat quietly at cafe at ate pizza, evening, middle of the day, lost track of time, bull wind, a time lapse of mystery novels all intertwining, at the very heart the mystery of new life, the anxieties building up around it, what's going to happen to it? in new york cars pass by and horns honk as the coffee brews and brisk is barely bearable, anxious to hear new news, anxious to get the next job, whats in store, whats in front, a song is thought for the next sell, car lots and cheap motels. honesty is a feedback loop, existing out of time and space, making its way around the prongs of video games, the memory cards are stashed, and the men don't know where the next card to be had is at The laptops rest and the lights of sleep purr, the reading glasses rest on top and not a soul in the house stirs, blank walls and blank faces, even frowns as it all brews down, the green light flickers here, the last bit of sunlight is the only constant, echoes from the freeway flicker and draw back a curse, of perpetual seriousness, of stoic enterprise, stuck out of time, once, and only, again
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
intwined
Humans are natural go-getters. We are instinctually driven to fix it, solve it, control it. But, oftentimes, even our most sincere efforts return fruitless. We relentlessly pursue anyway. What lies beneath the desire to make things better; make our lives better is a deep-seated insecurity that if we don't DO something, our lives will dissipate, and fall into a heap of failure and depression. We cannot bear to let go of the need to control our lives and "make things happen". What would happen if we let the Universe guide us? I'm not talking about passively living our lives. No. I'm talking about going about our lives like how we normally do, with the exception of needing to make certain all of which brings us discomfort. And instead, to live in this insecurity, this uncertainty and trust that the Universe and ultimately, our soul knows the True way. Our soul is caring for us and whether or not we like it, our soul is ultimately the one in charge of our lives. We have free will, and we may exercise that whenever we want, but we do not have free will of how outcomes turn out. We wish we could manipulate the destinies of ourselves and others, but in the end, the Universe and our soul causes the outcome to occur. The power of action is a shared privilege, done by both ourselves and our soul. Since we ARE our soul, but separated from the love and wisom by our ego-mind, what is shall and always will be what our soul wants for us and we need to open up to that and trust it.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Surrendering to the Soul (prose)
Humans are natural go-getters. We are instinctually driven to fix it, solve it, control it. But, oftentimes, even our most sincere efforts return fruitless. We relentlessly pursue anyway. What lies beneath the desire to make things better; make our lives better is a deep-seated insecurity that if we don't DO something, our lives will dissipate, and fall into a heap of failure and depression. We cannot bear to let go of the need to control our lives and "make things happen". What would happen if we let the Universe guide us? I'm not talking about passively living our lives. No. I'm talking about going about our lives like how we normally do, with the exception of needing to make certain all of which brings us discomfort. And instead, to live in this insecurity, this uncertainty and trust that the Universe and ultimately, our soul knows the True way. Our soul is caring for us and whether or not we like it, our soul is ultimately the one in charge of our lives. We have free will, and we may exercise that whenever we want, but we do not have free will of how outcomes turn out. We wish we could manipulate the destinies of ourselves and others, but in the end, the Universe and our soul causes the outcome to occur. The power of action is a shared privilege, done by both ourselves and our soul. Since we ARE our soul, but separated from the love and wisom by our ego-mind, what is shall and always will be what our soul wants for us and we need to open up to that and trust it.
Continue reading...
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*the soul a collection of thoughts aptitudes weaknesses biases predilections a jumble of mind and what of free will and what of karma are there not fates pleasures and furies yogas of myriad heavens and hells we find our selves a short stay in zombie land are we not the living dead have we not the freedoms of the living dead to suffer innumerable casualties of mind and body short lived pleasures and repugnant destinies to be inducted into armies of labor and war no work no eat the mantra imperative even rest exists for exertions sake to fight with our intimates or if alone to fight with our selves about our desolation divided by the chatter of inner confusion reality distortions so pervasive we drink water from mirages palimpsests voices dubbed over lays voices over voices over voices a cacophony of whispers our version of free will driven by the  impulse to get get get and while we lose lose lose are we not manure for an acid soil destined for head stone city all the getters piled high and buried deep are we not  dim witted children of the blind impulse panicked reflexive doll mannequins in a world so muddled that we only know what we be LIE ve*
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
RANT
Fidelity is strangely hard to come by amongst bandits and naysayers, does a dream seem a thousand years? And shall that thousand years last?   Or abruptly halt to thy end!!!! A muse is word of choice, Backtalkers who have no voice show strength!!! Boomerang spitters continue to be getters of pleasure of sin, Art thou out? Or do you fit in?....
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
no sinful pleasure
I just want to inspire, I remember coming here last year, And **** did I admire, The kids who got up, And had the guts to speak, Because I thought my voice was weak, I just needed to find my time, And it's so cliché but my time is now And I'm going to own it It's just like Carter said on the first day "We're a little bit of this and a little bit of that" Well I'm a little bit brave And a little bit afraid But I am one hundred percent trying to reach you I want you to Scream out If you are afraid You will never know what you are made of Till you at least try There are unspoken afraid poets Dreamers Believers Go getters Waiting for a sign Look no further Your sign is right here, right now Go, find your voice use it Grab a pen, a pencil, chalk, anything, write it Speak out! I don't want to just reach the afraid I want to praise the brave The Spoken brave poets The never silent The achieving The do-ers You found your voice You got out there Your speaking Writing out My goal is to inspire Because **** I want to admire your spoken words your written words Your will be words Waiting to exist You poets Will be poets It your time, so stop waiting, Own it
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
This is my finished Piece I'm reading for Writers Walk
I just want to inspire, I remember coming here last year, And **** did I admire, The kids who got up, And had the guts to speak, Because I thought my voice was weak, I just needed to find my time, And it's so cliché but my time is now And I'm going to own it It's just like Carter said on the first day "We're a little bit of this and a little bit of that" Well I'm a little bit brave And a little bit scared But I am one hundred percent trying to reach you Scream out if you are afraid You will never know what you are made of Till you at least try There a unspoken afraid poets Dreamers Believers Go getters Waiting for a sign Look no further Your sign is right here, right now I don't want to just reach the afraid I want to praise the brave The Spoken brave poets The never silent The achieving The do-ers My goal is to inspire Because **** I want to admire your spoken words your written words Your words Just Waiting to be written You poets Will be poets It your time, so stop waiting, Own it
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
Writers Walk?
I think I should make it public How my love for compsci’s static My hatred is a void main(String args[]){ Where should I start? Where DO { I start? BREAK; it down To packages to classes I might just need glasses Primitives and variables Freedom: Inevitable. Step 1: Initialize Step 2: Declare Step 3: glare Then pull out your hair. Int and Strings Those petty things I’d rather float Than write oop notes IF my love for this Was put digitally boolean love = true; You have no ******* clue! Private or public? A Return or a void? Oh functions Just send me to oblivion Those red squiggly lines I’d rather be blind It’s only one sign: There’s millions more of its kind! Case 1: The brackets that contain everything. There’s the round ones The squiggly ones The square ones That come in a pair Case 2: Dots. I’d rather be on *** Case 3: Capital Letters. Static Behaviours. Comp-sci, my saviour I love shedding tears. G U I. More like **** you goodbye Grid layout my *** Only way it’d look nice If it was FOR Windows95 I should just make an arraylist of MyLove[]; Because my love for compsci cannot be bound by numbers Oh! OP - Don’t forget the getters And the ****** setters I’ll set this straight. I don’t get your traits. } }
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Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 9:21 AM UTC
String Myloveforcompsci = “java” {