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the dead bird Jun 2016
outgoing?
I'd say outspoken
never been arbitrary
or overbearing-
just vocal

my passion runs deep
and pours out
excited
overflowing
when it finds
another soul to share it with

the energy
others direct towards me
I absorb
and like a mirror
reflect it back towards them

the energy
that rests inside me
is like water
waiting
for an outside force
to heat me up
excite
my molecules
or
to cool me down
mellow
the chaos inside me
making me stable
making me solid

if being an extrovert
makes me
popular and
domineering,
a fun-loving,
party animal
who lacks introspection,

tell me why
I always choose
to isolate myself

why
my few friends I do have
I keep at a distance
except when I force myself
to enjoy their company
once or twice
in a year

why
I am easily talked over
my words drowned out
ignored
like background noise
my input
apbrubtly halted
as others drive over it
making it no more
than the dust
their tires kick up
why I let them
talk over me
rather than raise my voice

why I would rather
read in solitude
than go to a party
or play a video game
rather than socialize
why
would I choose
to ponder existence
over
existing with others

extroverted
means I get my energy
from external events
rather than the internal

I am not a synonym
for gregariousness
clearly venting angrilly through prose
daisies Jan 2015
Fireworks and vivid chaos,
blinding lights in the pitch black sky.
The sudden gregariousness,
cross-dissolving into one's sigh.

Back home in a blanket,
hot chocolate in hand.
A wandering mind, hardly cognizant,
unleashing one's disguise.

With the shutter open
to evacuate life's scenes,
revealing only those broken
in one mind's eye.

Fading rapidly from awareness,
once immersive, now an indistinct sight.
The suttle gregariousness,
has all but gone dry.
anonymous Dec 2015
male blanket octopus:
size of a thumbnail, you peel off
your wriggling *****-filled
hectocotylus, cut your own arm
as a gift of love to a female
the size of kobe bryant
i imagine you van-gogh,
whispering "keep this object
like a treasure" as your unbloody
*** arm curls up in the safety of her
mantle, as you slink away to quiet
obscurity, as you find somewhere
dark and alone to finally die, giving
up your body as food, giving everything,
and i envy you your unobtrusiveness, wish
i could be free of ego and gregariousness, and
i envy your pure dedication to purpose, wish
i knew so firmly my life's end, wish
i knew anything
sometimes i like to use non-human animals as a lens to examine human *** and gender. this is my first attempt at that.
Dark n Beautiful Apr 2010
Heart of darkness
transcend some light
you confused the body and soul.

Heart of darkness
your youthful years
were gracious and gleaming
you loved with gregariousness.

Heart of darkness
blindsided by *******
it saturated the body and soul

Heart of darkness
forgive and forget
ratify a truce with love,
Let love in.

Heart of darkness
bruises heal in time
in love there is fear
however, perfect love
casts aside doubt.

Heart of darkness
sadness interferes with hope
we were saved in this hope
hope that is seen is not hope
leaving only trust.

Heart of darkess
the essence of hope
the secret to victorious living
lies in seeing good
in every situation that comes into our lives

Heart of darkness
Let love in....
the theme here is  ..Love verses the heart of darkness
By Dark@beautiful/darknlovely
copywrite W.lander
Tarryn Feb 2012
he slipped quite quietly out of his own mind,
roaming free, letting go,
consumed with a curiosity of what he might find,
sliding through shadows into the darkest cascades,
skipping past sancturies,
some hidden, some buried,
like treasures from the everglades,
gregariousness a thing of the past,
as the lightness grew dim,
into himself he became a murmur of a forgotten mask,
scattered and shattering like a flightless fawned bird,
he screamed, he stomped, he wailed,
but swamped in his black anguish,
all he felt echoed thin into the nothingness
and remained unheard
brooke Mar 2016
Queen of the fallen tree and the gneiss ridden
shore, ruling over an empire of celadon
moss and early spring waters, you stand off
to the west (of me) and i see your breath shift
over your lip and dissipate in loose tendrils against
the evening sun

I catch him staring up at the trees arced over
our heads with a strange boyish grin,
this is sorta what I imagine my life to look like he says
all this **** in the way and then beyond that it's clear.
He wipes his hand across the sky as if to illustrate the
supposed clarity beyond the tangle of branches.  I am startled,
I meet his gaze briefly and nod because
if not a mess or entanglement, what better way to
describe the way I feel than to elude to the bracken
and brushwood ?

Out across a wire fence, deer gather quietly and stand
stock-still as we pass, aloof if not for their big inquiring eyes
watching us smirk and bump shoulders because
we don't know how else to be close (I already tried my tricks).
But he surprises me now and again with his gregariousness
with a determination to get to but an equal pleasure in
idling, in stillness, in gliding across my instep, performing
quick studies on my nails or briefly succumbing to the shadow
beneath my collarbone--

Quite arbitrarily, i ask for his pocket knife
but it's him that carves our initials into the
snarl at my feet, his hood pulled close
around his neck as he sets to work
Bis now with those hands that
have been kilned and slipped
with engobe, I am stirred
stirred
stirred
and
awake
awake
and
afraid.
February 25th

(c) Brooke Otto 2016
Bob B Aug 2019
Six-year-old Stephen Romero,
An energetic, vibrant boy,
Was full of curiosity,
Gregariousness, life, and joy.

On Sunday morning, young Stephen
And mom were both unaware
Of what was going to happen to them
During their Sunday trip to the fair.

Keyla Salazar was called
"La luchadora"° by her dad.
The thirteen-year-old's smile was one
Of the greatest treasures her father had.

On Sunday morning, Keyla, too,
Was totally unaware
Of what she was going to encounter
During her fateful trip to the fair.

Trevor Irby, twenty-five,
Was getting ready to propose
To someone very special to him.
At least so the story goes.

On Sunday, Trevor, along with a friend,
Decided to spend a day at the fair.
Surely, they had no idea
What they were going to encounter there.

Nineteen-year-old Santino Legan,
For reasons hard to understand,
Went to the Gilroy Garlic Festival
On Sunday with his gun in hand.

There he took the lives of Stephen,
Keyla, and Trevor. More blood was shed:
Thirteen other people were injured
Before the police shot him dead.

Weep, America; weep for our youth,
Killed by messengers of hate
Because we cannot draw the line
At how much we can tolerate.

Weep, America; weep again
That access to weapons goes unchecked.
Weep for murdered ones whose lives
Our lawmakers are supposed to protect.

Weep for all of us, for we
Cannot feel safe anywhere:
At school, at work, at stores, at concerts,
At places of worship, or at a fair.

-by Bob B (8-1-19)

°the fighter
Travis Green Mar 2022
He talks so smooth, ****, and sophisticated
He amplifies and exhilarates my dreams
Debonair dreadhead attraction
Heavenly fresh locs locked to my heart
Dazzling black diamond eyes
He is my wild
My smooth sensational high
I crave to dance in his sea of waves

Harbor his hot sauce in my heart
Marvel at his swirling chocolate thunder
How I hunger for his fragrant fluid flesh
To fuse to mine, enliven my mind
Bright bold trailblazer
He is a sultry sweet simile
Shimmering in my mouth
A spectacular amorous anaphora
Sliding along the walls of my throat

I want to feel his vibrant valiant masculineness
Lingering in my digestive system
Charm me with his hot starry wonderment
Change my world with his magical jazzy attractiveness
His flaming electric gregariousness
I yearn to venture to vivid thrilling sights
Within his scrumptious dimension
Melt into the steamy memories we make
The teasing wet, and long kisses we engage in
His invigorating fragrance flowing in my marvelous midst
Ginnie Dec 2019
Watching the Light go out


Brightly colored
fire driven lantern
rises steadily, purposefully,
growing smaller
carries it’s brightness
into a vast mellow sunset
to remember a life
whose light
flickered in years of confusion
and then went out.

I watch
remembering lost words,
lost smiles, lost cognition,
suffering,
that ever so gradually stole his light
his wit, gregariousness
his very person.

I will the light not to disappear
my eyes track it
my heart  tugged along
until it becomes a dot
and disappears into the vastness of eternity.

I say, goodbye,
call my heart back
to the ground under my feet
to the lights and voices around me,
to life without the light that went out.

— The End —