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"harbors" poems
1 It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days That summer and man delight in. Never had Heaven seemed quite so high, Never had earth seemed quite so green, Never had the world seemed quite so clean Or sky so nigh. And I heard the Deity’s voice in The sun’s warm rays, And the white cloud’s intricate maze, And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen. 2 I looked to the heavens and saw him there,— A black speck downward drifting, Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed, Nearer and nearer he slid through space, In an unending aerial race, This sailor who hailed From the Clime of the Clouds.—Ever shifting, On billows of air And the blue sky seemed never so fair, And the rest of the world kept pace. 3 On the white of his head the sun flashed bright; And he battled the wind with wide pinions, Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud, Clearer and clearer he came into view,— Bigger and blacker against the blue. Then a dragon of cloud Gathering all its minions Rushed to the fight, And swallowed him up in a bite; And the sky lay empty clear through. 4 Long I watched. And at last afar Caught sight of a speck in the vastness; Ever smaller,ever decreasing, Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day; Finally ceasing. So into Heaven’s vast fastness Vanished that bar Of black,as a fluttering star Goes out while still on its way. 5 So I lost him. But I shall always see In my mind The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free; The vista’s sky,and the white cloud trailing, Trailing behind,— And below the young earth’s summer-green arbors, And on high the eagle,—sailing,sailing Into far skies and unknown harbors
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40.4k
The Eagle
1 It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days That summer and man delight in. Never had Heaven seemed quite so high, Never had earth seemed quite so green, Never had the world seemed quite so clean Or sky so nigh. And I heard the Deity’s voice in The sun’s warm rays, And the white cloud’s intricate maze, And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen. 2 I looked to the heavens and saw him there,— A black speck downward drifting, Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed, Nearer and nearer he slid through space, In an unending aerial race, This sailor who hailed From the Clime of the Clouds.—Ever shifting, On billows of air And the blue sky seemed never so fair, And the rest of the world kept pace. 3 On the white of his head the sun flashed bright; And he battled the wind with wide pinions, Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud, Clearer and clearer he came into view,— Bigger and blacker against the blue. Then a dragon of cloud Gathering all its minions Rushed to the fight, And swallowed him up in a bite; And the sky lay empty clear through. 4 Long I watched. And at last afar Caught sight of a speck in the vastness; Ever smaller,ever decreasing, Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day; Finally ceasing. So into Heaven’s vast fastness Vanished that bar Of black,as a fluttering star Goes out while still on its way. 5 So I lost him. But I shall always see In my mind The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free; The vista’s sky,and the white cloud trailing, Trailing behind,— And below the young earth’s summer-green arbors, And on high the eagle,—sailing,sailing Into far skies and unknown harbors
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52
Out of lemon flowers loosed on the moonlight, love's lashed and insatiable essences, sodden with fragrance, the lemon tree's yellow emerges, the lemons move down from the tree's planetarium Delicate merchandise! The harbors are big with it- bazaars for the light and the barbarous gold. We open the halves of a miracle, and a clotting of acids brims into the starry divisions: creation's original juices, irreducible, changeless, alive: so the freshness lives on in a lemon, in the sweet-smelling house of the rind, the proportions, arcane and acerb. Cutting the lemon the knife leaves a little cathedral: alcoves unguessed by the eye that open acidulous glass to the light; topazes riding the droplets, altars, aromatic facades. So, while the hand holds the cut of the lemon, half a world on a trencher, the gold of the universe wells to your touch: a cup yellow with miracles, a breast and a ****** perfuming the earth; a flashing made fruitage, the diminutive fire of a planet.
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Ode To a Lemon
Friendship is built upon the foundations of Unique and quirky first impressions. It is not brought together by what others May say or recommend, It is not brought together by a Rubik’s cube Or the use of super glue— Friendship is just what it states! Two or more ships brought together To become one friend—thus the Creation of Friendship! It involves a raging sea of betrayals; Of innocent white lies; of going astray; Of being in the wrong place at the wrong time; Of hatred and envy. But Friendship is strong And it prevails over anything above all else; And when the bonds of Friendship is that strong, nothing between Friendship should ever; could ever be wrong! However, you do get one or two that goes overboard The bow of Friendship and are forever lost at sea Hoping to be picked up by Cecrops, the Lost Mariner to Remain forever a prisoner on the ship of Friends that Corrupts the minds of truthfulness; of the One True bond That which is called Friendship. My ship is true and has never Strayed from its course. It is homeward bound towards The foundation that which Made it true; towards quirky First impressions that’s unique and precious; Back to the fleet yards and of harbors of its creation-- The Fleet of Friendship.
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Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
**H.M.S. FRIENDSHIP**
Starlight wings white as snow, Illuminating the night sky. Will you take me? Can I reach you? The resonating sound of love, Sends ripples through the ocean of my heart. Once an endless abyss, Now harbors summery waters. Your words imbued with sunlight, Drive away the most torturous thoughts. As the notes of your dulcet voice, Echo through the airways. The rhythmic beat of your heart, Like the ticking of a clock. I hear it. I feel it. I need it. Oh, bearer of radiant wings; I continue to climb higher; Continue to work harder, Continue to stand taller. I will fly with you; I will reach you; And I will touch you; As you have touched me.
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Wings
Jealously's a you-know-what I hate her with a passionate rage My heart barely harbors this feeling But every emotion has a stage Jealousy should go away now No one loves her, she's uncool She just makes me look bad I let her use me like a tool Jealousy is the ugliest of all She lurks in my mind until I break Her clammy hands suffocate my heart I end up giving what she wants to take Jealousy lives everywhere She's a million places at a time Toss her in the fire, my dear Just wait, and out she'll climb Jealousy is the only one I truly hate She's ruined perfectly good days Get lost, you stupid imposter! You're always misleading our ways! Jealousy reeks of insecurity Hungry and scared like a forgotten pet But Jealousy doesn't play nicely She just builds and builds regret Jealousy is always hiding You never know where she might be Keep an eye on your heart and mind She's always looking for another lost key.
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
Jealousy
I come from New Orleans where the swingers hook up with the singers, and the boxes have a person inside who speak to you through a thick horizontal slot in the door. You come from Minnesota where the most aggressive sentence is “Hi, how are you” and you’ve attended church every Sunday of your life, even though you don’t really believe in god. We came to the West to skate with the surfer junkies. But then the harbors got bombed and we moved out East to see the hipsters and the artists beggin on the streets. We went to the South with the racists and bigots were dying for a good show. We moved up North to escape from the 70s, and with the 80s on the rise we figured we’d best stay away. The 70s were rockin’ with **** and LSD in parks and concerts, and on benches on the streets. The smoke in the air was everywhere, from the slums in Wisconsin to the cities of Dallas. Even the poor were lost in the haze. When the 80s arrived with Rock ‘n’ Roll and techno beats from windowsills upstairs. The music was groovin’ and the ladies were fine. We saw billboards of our names in neon orange lights. The *** was replaced by coke, and the LSD with ****** singing and swinging with delight in our eyes. When the AIDS broke out we were sick in our beds listening to Pink Floyd and Elton John, and still we were singing. The 70s got us high while the 80s made us die We lived through wars in Vietnam, and Korea; we fought back the communists with red ink on our hands. We broke down the door into China and got them to arrive in the present and join the world. Although their chairman sits on a chair of lies he leads them with an angry fist in the air pumping “three cheers for Mao”. “Three cheers for Mao”. When the Soviets launched themselves to the moon we responded with our money and flashed our shiny new machinery in their faces. We marked our territory and claimed triumphantly that “We’re the best”. And we launched our war nukes and pinned them into intimidation. Then the Cubans sought revenge for the death of the Pigs on their Bay. With rifles in hand we stormed the beach and unearthed Castro and his regime. With our beds soaked in blood, and our dreams covered with fog, hand in hand we lay. We recalled the dances in the backs of old Cafes where the passwords were as simple as three quick knocks and two slow ones. We remembered the guns that pierced the heavenly chorus for the negros in the south. And we thought about the music of the 70s and the death in the 80s and I thought about you for a minute more.
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
Untitled
I come from New Orleans where the swingers hook up with the singers, and the boxes have a person inside who speak to you through a thick horizontal slot in the door. You come from Minnesota where the most aggressive sentence is “Hi, how are you” and you’ve attended church every Sunday of your life, even though you don’t really believe in god. We came to the West to skate with the surfer junkies. But then the harbors got bombed and we moved out East to see the hipsters and the artists beggin on the streets. We went to the South with the racists and bigots were dying for a good show. We moved up North to escape from the 70s, and with the 80s on the rise we figured we’d best stay away. The 70s were rockin’ with **** and LSD in parks and concerts, and on benches on the streets. The smoke in the air was everywhere, from the slums in Wisconsin to the cities of Dallas. Even the poor were lost in the haze. When the 80s arrived with Rock ‘n’ Roll and techno beats from windowsills upstairs. The music was groovin’ and the ladies were fine. We saw billboards of our names in neon orange lights. The *** was replaced by coke, and the LSD with ****** singing and swinging with delight in our eyes. When the AIDS broke out we were sick in our beds listening to Pink Floyd and Elton John, and still we were singing. The 70s got us high while the 80s made us die We lived through wars in Vietnam, and Korea; we fought back the communists with red ink on our hands. We broke down the door into China and got them to arrive in the present and join the world. Although their chairman sits on a chair of lies he leads them with an angry fist in the air pumping “three cheers for Mao”. “Three cheers for Mao”. When the Soviets launched themselves to the moon we responded with our money and flashed our shiny new machinery in their faces. We marked our territory and claimed triumphantly that “We’re the best”. And we launched our war nukes and pinned them into intimidation. Then the Cubans sought revenge for the death of the Pigs on their Bay. With rifles in hand we stormed the beach and unearthed Castro and his regime. With our beds soaked in blood, and our dreams covered with fog, hand in hand we lay. We recalled the dances in the backs of old Cafes where the passwords were as simple as three quick knocks and two slow ones. We remembered the guns that pierced the heavenly chorus for the negros in the south. And we thought about the music of the 70s and the death in the 80s and I thought about you for a minute more.
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8
I can't wait till I'm awake.. Plugged into the wall. Nothing noted until the shell of the capsule collapses under the weight of your trembling hands. No there is no notation for what was said between us, just figure-less voices and a strenuous pain that strained our throats for the fear of nothing being communicated between the exasperated gasps of what was less than incommunicable silence. Ugly is not a word but a feeling applied with meaning, applied to a certain truth about that metallic taste in my mouth, that tearful pain jostled in my chest and that consuming fear. I know little of what this ugliness could mean other than it harbors shame in my corners. This shame is not inborn in anyone, but it builds it's presence as a drunken braggart who shouts obscenities and believes he is a prince of highest regard. His ugliness is in what he slings from his tongue and his criticisms of all who in his mind toil about. But he is simply a angry troll with no heart and delusions of grandeur, frittering away time.. for time stands as an eternal judge and measure.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Cell Phone
You … My Love. My Queen. This Shining Light in my eyes. My Laughs. My Dreams. My Soft, Contented Sighs. My ***** My Lavender. My Dew Covered Rose. My Smile. My Cinnamon. The Joy in my heart … ever inspiring my prose. My Best Friend. My Co-Star. My Fearless Partner in Crime. My Breath. My Cohort. My Side-kick throughout time. My Snow-capped Mountain. The Wind caressing my face. My Vast Green Field. The Ivy Covered Wall that harbors my soul … ever refusing to yield. You … are my Life. You … are my World. You … are my Everything and I will always love you. ~Charlie Brown
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Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
Charlie Brown Writes A Poem Without A Title For His Little Red-Haired Girl
my hands swelled blue and purple to match the glassy doe-eyed stagnancy. I saw a pair of cocoa moon rocks heavy with music and a queen bee trapped in a flash of departure. mine and yours one in the same corpulent and greased trembling at the lips.
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:38 PM UTC
so much harbors my gift to you
There, she lies on the altar Almost held the sun she— almost in her hands Opened up, a rose-bud chaste petal by petal by blood, with a sting, so sweet and sweet, as sunset reborn a bee; she was gold and silver and black at once. Almost held the sun she— and no wax wings used Oh, Icarus, love you did a wild sky, — yourself a light-licked doom   as your father cried, Your father cried for you. A veil as simple sour starlight she wore as wings of wasps as beetles she giggled Icarus, flew that you —and with tongue-tied elation too Icarus, she rambled on for hours long. A letter she held in spring kissed hands —I will wed you to the sun, her father had sworn. The sun—and a sun he was, child of the sea, some sword in honey dipped; now her awaiting. And blushed she did herself a dawn The altar, on the altar. Almost held the sun she— Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin. Icarus, tell me of the plummet. Tell me of the greens you saw, of blues, of whites, of the whirling world— Men go around around her their soles all ready to crush lost skulls an empty moor. Twirling, the dust, like may have her hair before the wedding day Strands and strands, gently styled— Spears, swords, rubbed to mirrors, to lakes lifeless Armors and ships laden with life, with sails, the fluttering doves; As the winds dance once more— as harbors vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as She still lies. Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in as down into dark's slick throat you slid? Surely, was soft, the sea's well-loved mouth, Surely soft or true She lies on the altar a trinket glossy on a hoof, a ****** in the bell, how does one say— the valley of lilies, she grew it inside. Spilled out on the stones, they are fed to the flies. Almost held the sun she— Icarus, must you know You did not sleep a wretched silence within the womb of war. No crescent blades you drank down a leaking throat— She lies on the altar, vanquished for moon — for metal upon bone for blood, for blood, for blood. A father’s green promise— Seasoned to rust before the king Icarus, on the altar she lies— a ripened land far, far away lures her king to another rosy worship. Icarus, Icarus, on the altar
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Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 7:45 AM UTC
Iphigenia
There, she lies on the altar Almost held the sun she— almost in her hands Opened up, a rose-bud chaste petal by petal by blood, with a sting, so sweet and sweet, as sunset reborn a bee; she was gold and silver and black at once. Almost held the sun she— and no wax wings used Oh, Icarus, love you did a wild sky, — yourself a light-licked doom   as your father cried, Your father cried for you. A veil as simple sour starlight she wore as wings of wasps as beetles she giggled Icarus, flew that you —and with tongue-tied elation too Icarus, she rambled on for hours long. A letter she held in spring kissed hands —I will wed you to the sun, her father had sworn. The sun—and a sun he was, child of the sea, some sword in honey dipped; now her awaiting. And blushed she did herself a dawn The altar, on the altar. Almost held the sun she— Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin. Icarus, tell me of the plummet. Tell me of the greens you saw, of blues, of whites, of the whirling world— Men go around around her their soles all ready to crush lost skulls an empty moor. Twirling, the dust, like may have her hair before the wedding day Strands and strands, gently styled— Spears, swords, rubbed to mirrors, to lakes lifeless Armors and ships laden with life, with sails, the fluttering doves; As the winds dance once more— as harbors vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as She still lies. Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in as down into dark's slick throat you slid? Surely, was soft, the sea's well-loved mouth, Surely soft or true She lies on the altar a trinket glossy on a hoof, a ****** in the bell, how does one say— the valley of lilies, she grew it inside. Spilled out on the stones, they are fed to the flies. Almost held the sun she— Icarus, must you know You did not sleep a wretched silence within the womb of war. No crescent blades you drank down a leaking throat— She lies on the altar, vanquished for moon — for metal upon bone for blood, for blood, for blood. A father’s green promise— Seasoned to rust before the king Icarus, on the altar she lies— a ripened land far, far away lures her king to another rosy worship. Icarus, Icarus, on the altar
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72
You once told me that when we die, we become another star in the night. I never really cared about your zodiac and lunar signs, I never paid attention to the solar action shooting by, You'd wonder if it's magic plans or broken scrap that flew the skies, You were psychedelic dresses, I was only wrapped in suit and tie, It never blew my mind until I finally gave your truth a try, I glimpsed the puzzle pieces in the time before the moon would rise, A tapestry on galaxies, depicting myths, and human lies, I guess you proved me wrong again, I was quick to scrutinize. Now, I'm studying the subjects and sitting in observatories, Thinking back to when I'd write them off before I heard the stories, Earth is boring now you're gone, I hope you're up there yearning for me, Every star's a soul, I'd see you but there's nothing worse than stormy Nights and light pollution, it's a blinding kind of nuisance, I'd be admiring your fusion but the sky has turned translucent, But still I'm plotting charts of stars, I'm always making observations, Waiting for the day I get to see your face in constellations. I wanna chase you forever, whether heaven or hell, I'll go, Can't let you float away, I'll take a world tour with my telescope, The way I speed through hemispheres, this night will be the death of me, But otherwise I'd only see you half the year, you're my Persephone, I'll trek from Arctic harbors, give binoculars to polar bears, Shiver in my igloo, hands together, say a hopeful prayer, And no, I won't be lonely there, your soul will be a solar flare, You'll whisper an aurora, northern lights to let me know you care. I'll whistle Canis Major and Minor, and let Orion guide me, I'm quite unlikely to quit, what kind of guy would I be? To search the Seven Sisters for an eighth and get inside their psyche? I'll question Cassiopeia, Cygnus, and Pisces nicely, Ask if they've seen something fishy, and then I'll talk to Taurus, An orbit tourist, I'm daunted without the gall to forfeit, So if you're gone, then I'm glad that this was all you taught me, I live each day for the night and just endure the morning.
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
Constellations
You once told me that when we die, we become another star in the night. I never really cared about your zodiac and lunar signs, I never paid attention to the solar action shooting by, You'd wonder if it's magic plans or broken scrap that flew the skies, You were psychedelic dresses, I was only wrapped in suit and tie, It never blew my mind until I finally gave your truth a try, I glimpsed the puzzle pieces in the time before the moon would rise, A tapestry on galaxies, depicting myths, and human lies, I guess you proved me wrong again, I was quick to scrutinize. Now, I'm studying the subjects and sitting in observatories, Thinking back to when I'd write them off before I heard the stories, Earth is boring now you're gone, I hope you're up there yearning for me, Every star's a soul, I'd see you but there's nothing worse than stormy Nights and light pollution, it's a blinding kind of nuisance, I'd be admiring your fusion but the sky has turned translucent, But still I'm plotting charts of stars, I'm always making observations, Waiting for the day I get to see your face in constellations. I wanna chase you forever, whether heaven or hell, I'll go, Can't let you float away, I'll take a world tour with my telescope, The way I speed through hemispheres, this night will be the death of me, But otherwise I'd only see you half the year, you're my Persephone, I'll trek from Arctic harbors, give binoculars to polar bears, Shiver in my igloo, hands together, say a hopeful prayer, And no, I won't be lonely there, your soul will be a solar flare, You'll whisper an aurora, northern lights to let me know you care. I'll whistle Canis Major and Minor, and let Orion guide me, I'm quite unlikely to quit, what kind of guy would I be? To search the Seven Sisters for an eighth and get inside their psyche? I'll question Cassiopeia, Cygnus, and Pisces nicely, Ask if they've seen something fishy, and then I'll talk to Taurus, An orbit tourist, I'm daunted without the gall to forfeit, So if you're gone, then I'm glad that this was all you taught me, I live each day for the night and just endure the morning.
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34
It’s a peculiar feeling, this sentiment healing A comforting numbness, that’s freeing my conscience A fallen angel, rising to the sky As night falls, we reach for the light A new child has been born, from eons of the known The truth that it harbors will free men from hope That sickening darkness, we tried to forget It’s seeping right through, the things that we dread Will we have the courage to stay through the night To see the cosmic indifference and meaningless of you and I To stare through the night’s eye and see past the lies? Truth is all I ask for, though it breeds also lies.
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Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
Birth of a child
She had a perfume that smelled like jasmine when she woke me up in the morning and like roses when she tucked me in at night It was the same perfume sprayed from the same bottle, but it smelled different every time I visited her Her perfume translated her feelings into delicate smells … smells I will never be able to forget The same perfume is still sprayed from the same bottle … but now … it smells like fear She no longer wears that perfume … “it makes me sad” she says … It makes us all sad! … Its drizzling droplets brushes against our senses awakening sedated memories … Memories of … Of grandpa’s happy eyes, warm embracing voice and tender sheltering hug … he was the kind of person whose presence can be felt from a distance. He would smile every time your eyes meet his as if he was noticing you for the very first time … Of mother’s childhood dreams tucked carefully in her braided hair … Of baby brother’s golden straight hair and wide curious brown eyes Of our tiny apartment whose windows allowed light to enter only from her room … the burgundy colored velvet salon chairs neatly covered by off white sheets … the noisy fridge who made sure everyone noticed me steeling ice-cream at midnight … Grandma’s perfume harbors our memories … Its droplets carry away our happiness leaving us stinking of fear!
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Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
Grandma’s perfume
My skin is p a  l e My body c o ld      And in my chest lies a broken heart of fools gold My re alit  y   I  on ce knew is ha z  y    a nd n on exist en  t It's grown old      And I'm becoming tired of being bold And being told right from wrong       I'm sinking softly down when I don't know how to swim   Every inch that I further lose from possibility to stay afloat is lessening my want or need for a life boat     Every breath I attempt to take fills my lungs with ugly pseudonyms and sends me down deeper into my lonesome underpopulated town inhabited only by fragments of once strong relationships that i held so close to me that I c ould n't  b reat h e, the relationships that kept my entire being from sinking in the first place.    I'm drowning and I can't see what's even in front of me        I'm a ship bound by anchor to the wrong bad habits of shedding my   blood willingly to bloodthirsty ravenous sharks in the sea of my minds eye        This was once a safe harbor for the ones I kept close   The ones that knew what mattered to me and the ones I cherished most       Now its a sea full of  gh o sts Of the people I trusted them the most     I trusted them to not turn on me or use me like a host And now I'm the one  dro w ning I' m    so  sca re      d    Now when I share my harbor it feels so     U    n    fa    i r         They don't understand what I risk give to let them be there It never harbors in their heart as deeply as it does mine      The possibility of even defining how hard it is to let these ships safely     pass through this harbor will now and forever never be able to escape  my pale numbing lips     Only silence Everything here is just riddled with murderous crashing waves    Any relationship that enters I try so desperately to save      And in that attempt   The harbor starts to misbehave             The waves destroy every boat or anything that floats   Anything at all to help me cope with being so alone or the feeling of even remotely being at home.       My fingertips are numb and cold and starting to fold and I can't feel those things I could before I just want all of this over N o    m   o re   dro w n    i n          g All my life boats have sunk     Now I'm just stuck      All these hands and graves are grabbing at me and pulling me down        ev ery   whi ch     wa y  at  the     bott om of the oce an u  nd   er      al l th e s     e        h e   a     v y                waves.
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
Shipwreck
My skin is p a  l e My body c o ld      And in my chest lies a broken heart of fools gold My re alit  y   I  on ce knew is ha z  y    a nd n on exist en  t It's grown old      And I'm becoming tired of being bold And being told right from wrong       I'm sinking softly down when I don't know how to swim   Every inch that I further lose from possibility to stay afloat is lessening my want or need for a life boat     Every breath I attempt to take fills my lungs with ugly pseudonyms and sends me down deeper into my lonesome underpopulated town inhabited only by fragments of once strong relationships that i held so close to me that I c ould n't  b reat h e, the relationships that kept my entire being from sinking in the first place.    I'm drowning and I can't see what's even in front of me        I'm a ship bound by anchor to the wrong bad habits of shedding my   blood willingly to bloodthirsty ravenous sharks in the sea of my minds eye        This was once a safe harbor for the ones I kept close   The ones that knew what mattered to me and the ones I cherished most       Now its a sea full of  gh o sts Of the people I trusted them the most     I trusted them to not turn on me or use me like a host And now I'm the one  dro w ning I' m    so  sca re      d    Now when I share my harbor it feels so     U    n    fa    i r         They don't understand what I risk give to let them be there It never harbors in their heart as deeply as it does mine      The possibility of even defining how hard it is to let these ships safely     pass through this harbor will now and forever never be able to escape  my pale numbing lips     Only silence Everything here is just riddled with murderous crashing waves    Any relationship that enters I try so desperately to save      And in that attempt   The harbor starts to misbehave             The waves destroy every boat or anything that floats   Anything at all to help me cope with being so alone or the feeling of even remotely being at home.       My fingertips are numb and cold and starting to fold and I can't feel those things I could before I just want all of this over N o    m   o re   dro w n    i n          g All my life boats have sunk     Now I'm just stuck      All these hands and graves are grabbing at me and pulling me down        ev ery   whi ch     wa y  at  the     bott om of the oce an u  nd   er      al l th e s     e        h e   a     v y                waves.
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44
oh, san juans, your riches beckon your wealth, your beauty calls your waveless, salty waters blue my heart since childhood draws your waters lap at darkened rock 'round islands, bays and inlets fill with returning salmon teeming your breaking waters thrill your tide, oh ever river changing charges muddy oyster flats your thriving pods of orca leap o'er spray in mid-air acrobats from seabed swift, cold and deep  the lushness of your green hills rise  your sun falls fleet like shooting star your sparkling waters mesmerize sailing craft from ’neath horizon angels spread their wings of color skirt your shoals and ply your straits find safety anchored in your harbors  oh, san juans, your wonder waits your treasure and your magic calls your waveless, crystal waters blue my heart since youth still draws calls me to return each year to dip my paddle deep when life averts the journey there in dreams you beckon while i sleep
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Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
oh, san juans
I have a trinket I hold the world in my palms And in the world i hold a woman who owns a voice that calms This trinket is not magic It's a godsend in disguise And it harbors the words of a woman With bright blue sky eyes Now the distance is quite an issue But it won't hold our demise There are many miles ahead And time is on our side So I'll just lay here awake Chatting away with someone in which i confide And maybe one day I'll get a package Marked precious cargo with you wrapped up inside
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
Trinket
With favoring winds, o’er sunlit seas, We sailed for the Hesperides, The land where golden apples grow; But that, ah! that was long ago. How far, since then, the ocean streams Have swept us from that land of dreams, That land of fiction and of truth, The lost Atlantis of our youth! Whither, ah, whither? Are not these The tempest-haunted Orcades, Where sea-gulls scream, and breakers roar, And wreck and sea-weed line the shore? Ultima Thule! Utmost Isle! Here in thy harbors for a while We lower our sails; a while we rest From the unending, endless quest.
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Ultima Thule
Passion is like a coal. Touch it and you will hurt. Hold it and you will be burned. Everything within reason will tell you to let go, but it hurts less to hold. Beauty resonates deep within the glowing essence. It harbors love, and harbors hate. This is passion, this is pain, this is happiness.
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Passion of Time
I was asleep when you came in. Wakening to the intoxicating tequila that drizzles from your mouth, You've already managed to start the discussion Combing you’re hands, lips and tongue to orchestrate A stroke of genius in full consequence, You now have my attention.. But you’re not alone,        Putting on my glasses I see you picked once again Navigating takes four hands ya know. Now choose: A spin-cycle or tune up, temporary vision, lost again. Each of you raves, You both used to dance. Looking at each other, synchronizing the helm. Yearning for violence you scratch the flesh That harbors you’re enthusiasm. Backbiting lust and forceful appetite, This is what happens when you Wake the Wolf.
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Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Waking the Wolf
It is half past one in the morning and The red digits from the alarm clock Lecture me for thinking about you. The pillow next to me Harbors your absence, And the loneliness holds me. I glare at the numbers, Fully aware that I will be exhausted come morning. Then the time changes and it is one thirty-one.
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
insomnia for the heart
What good is a masculinity so fragile, That it harbors misery and shatters souls? What good is an alliance so toxic, That it tweaks tears as opposed to laughter? So speak up and break free, Live life merry as long as your body does plea.
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Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Fragility of Masculinity
it’s futile to change her shape. seduction, entanglement, & word play. she harbors such a dangerous weapon. deadly lures molded into a blizzard-like touch the perfect balance of unsteady vengeance, benevolent beauty fitted to destroy heavy love. charm pervades through her. she bathes in simplistic elegance. she is a shooting star, men will follow off cliffs. i was sapped dry of my awareness in moments, i fell in love with her.
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Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 12:04 PM UTC
Detest
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, things can get weirder than ever---and I like it<3 welcome to the nation savor a whole new destiny like a cinnamon flavor although some rainy a bit abnormal to my harbors yet that blond charm made it hard to delete from my markers everybody wants to swim in a world to bond and have a friend a twin afraid if I was about to miss the rocking riff I don't know if I can handle yellow anymore so stiff                                                                             ------ravenfeels
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May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 7:44 PM UTC
Sweet Savory Moment Than Ever