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"harden" poems
You will never know The peace of acceptance Once you are finished Put to earth Life was harsher than the dirt Parents made you feel worthless Cause you wanted to wear a short dress Because you felt different Cut off Disowned Disavowed One friend after another disappears And no one hears The sobs No one feels the salty tears No one holds your hands Or offers you a hug You were ****** By the those who demand You conform Where there was no  warmth The clock cuts you bitterly Condemning you to be lonely And I cry all the more Knowing you won’t be the only one Not the only daughter wanting to be a son Not the only male that wants to be female Not the only soft face harden Or hard face softened till the sorrow overflows Till everyone you know closes the door And you disappear forever more
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Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
To The Transgender Suicides
Your suffering is always greater than mine, you claim your fears are bigger. Whine your feelings are better than mine, insist my feelings are simpler. Try to laugh my feats away like a joke, but my will is more forward than yours. Now don’t expect any warmth from me, my spirit won’t be ignored. You think you can quiet my defiance? But I'm used to standing alone. Your ego trips never get old they only harden my resolve. So you timidly try and silence me, then make excuses to escape. ‘Cause your wits won't handle me long, I’m the one you can’t sedate.
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Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
Sedate
And so here we are Page after page Hearts on fire Exposing parts unseen Beneath harden surfaces Wounds unclean Broken still we dream On and on we pen And so we breathe again
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
BREATHE
Polished and refined, With death I have found A life below ground A place I can call mine Destruction and evil deeds A breeding of pure hate Is all that I can create Out of all these heartless seeds I punch them in To the deep sullen dirt Water them with vengeance And a sprinkling of hurt Tonight is the night I find what dwells below I don't have a key But I can bargain with my soul As I place it into these seeds I am but reeds in the grass I'm letting go Only Heaven knows The blackness of Hell's wrath I plant my lifeless soul in this plot To groom it as it grows So slowly that nobody knows It's the place the devil goes to rot Watered with tears, warmed with fire And as time stands still, never changing This fruition of evil continues growing Until the depths of hell can go no higher Then it will bloom A flowering gloom Growing out of control The ground will harden In this here garden Fertilized by my soul
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
Growing Evil ~~~ Collaboration with DaSH ❤
Your caress is silky and creamy like butter And my darling, I'm afraid that your lingering touch will give me diabetes Your heart crumbles like flour when I press mine against it And beads of sugar hang like dew upon your lashes Maybe if I blended you up into cookie dough And baked you at 350 for 15 minutes until you were golden brown Then I wouldn't be afraid to stroke your resplendent face Perhaps I wouldn't wince at the thought of pressing my ear against your chest Just to hear your confectionary heart quiver And there wouldn't be the slightest trepidation when I kissed your intoxicating tears But I'm afraid that I'll leave you in for too long And your saccharine core will harden and reek of soot And with the slightest touch, you'll be reduced to ash And your cremated remains will get frightened at the accusatory wail of the smoke detector And they'll seek refuge in my oven's crevices Never to be seen again
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Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
Baking
Raw energy. Despite the stiffness in his fingers, despite the way his fingertips harden with calluses, the industrious pianist hammers out the same tune that he played last night, and the night before, and the night before that, and unnumbered evenings before that. Each notes falls magically into place, none out of tune or without purpose, perfectly in time. Raw diligence and focus flooding his brown eyes, gazing deeply into the sheet music. His yellow forehead wanted dabbing, Steeped in his sweat. A manifestation of his time spent in his trade. The conscientiousness in his eyes. The raw vitality of his weathered hands. The way he fills each note with sentiment. Perhaps those are what keep calling me near?
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Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 3:19 PM UTC
Discipline
A Red Ruby, if placed upon the chest, can melt through your rib cage and engulf your entire body with flames. It's delicate appearance of a heart was purposely constructed that way, in order to desire with a fierce blaze. Red Rubies were made to crystallize your eyes and make every single sensual thought behind them harden until they crack and find its way into your blood stream and into your love making. Red Rubies are a euphoric gemstone stimulating your need to love and give into the desirable.
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Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
Red Rubies
You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. There are days when I can hear my bones straining under the weight of despair, this madness that erupts like an earthquake when I feel you lost. This heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until there are none. It is a mortal danger, perhaps not to life in a strict sense but mortal still, for I know very well my soul would harden and never be the same if I lose you. But think not for a minute this is despair's babble, even in my seldom moments of calm and lucidness and peace I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than ever mine or someone else's. I want to deserve you, for I have to love you E, I have to love you. It matters not this wound that burns like two, it matters not that I search for you and I do not find you, even as the nights go by and I do not have you.
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
I must love you
This, this song I made you, let it pierce your heart, like the silver moon earrings, I gave you. Hear my voice, close your eyes, Let me hold you on high. Let me hold you on high. Like the Kansas fields that outnumber the stars, let's walk on the wheat fields of gold, for even if I can't forgive you, my heart will freely love you. Over and over like red Georgia Peaches,  like Florida Beaches, wave after wave, rock upon rock, drips of light let's fall upon imagination, let our man run wild,    For the diamonds at dusk, are waiting for us. For like the Chicago sunrise, let the waves of it's sunrise, sing you back to life, until you and are most alive. Embrace me, hold onto me, like a California dream, pretend it's just me, like the ring on your finger, let this be, let this be, a time between you and me, like your silver moon earrings. For if you harden your heart, we can go back to one, let me be like your silver moon earrings, where I hold you on high. where I hold you on high.
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Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Chicago Sunrise
Voice is what I see, it is what I hear. But, what is voice? All it is is air. Air air vibrating to more air. to things that run on the oxygen. To the throat, to the neck, to the person. Who was once star dust, and will one day return to the stars. When I think of voice, I think of my own. The one in my head, not the one that you hear. Because that is my voice, it it does not change through time, harden with the wind and twisted in the cold. It never gets tired, it is the only constant reminder that I am my self. Not anyone else. I don't hear it in my ears. Or see it through my eyes. I can't because voice is only made up of air, vibrations of air, traveling through more air. Now, I'm afraid. I slow down my speech pattern so that the rubble in my head can be heard over the screaming pain that echoes in the back of my neck, wait no, I mean head, the front of my head. The back of my head... my brain. Why are you only electricity when I wished for air?
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Air
I'm on the warpath (On the warpath) Not another chance, not again, no way Never gonna let him throw my love away If he doesn't want it then it's mine to take If he ever tries again it'll be too late Long gone now is my innocence Taken by a lover in his arrogance Thinking we were just playing fun and games Not ever knowing I'd never be the same Now I'm just a broken heart Who let love tear her world apart But I'll never let another take me in so far Cuz I'll be the one leaving broken parts Get the men off the streets, not a boy is safe Walking down the road of the mistakes I've made Scratching out eyes just to get them gone Can't even have the nice ones tagging along Tears over him harden like diamonds Leave me dangerous to the touch Never again will I see my heart mend I always gave him much too much I'll never let this feeling go away Reminding myself of the chance I gave Wishing for a love that would never be Such a stupid girl, I could never see Now I'm just a broken heart Who let love tear her world apart But I'll never let another take me in so far Cuz I'll be the one leaving broken parts I'm just a broken heart Who let love tear her world apart But I'll never let another take me in so far Cuz I'll be the one leaving broken parts I'll be the one leaving broken parts
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Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 4:42 PM UTC
Broken Parts
Forth flashed the serpent streak of steel, Consummate crown of man's device; Down crashed upon an immobile And brainless barrier of ice. Courage! The grey gods shoot a laughing lip: - Let not faith founder with the ship! We reel before the blows of fate; Our stout souls stagger at the shock. Oh! there is Something ultimate Fixed faster than the living rock. Courage! Catastrophe beyond belief Harden our hearts to fear and grief! The gods upon the Titans shower Their high intolerable scorn; But no god knoweth in what hour A new Prometheus may be born. Courage! Man to his doom goes driving down; A crown of thorns is still a crown! No power of nature shall withstand At last the spirit of mankind: It is not built upon the sand; It is not wastrel to the wind. Courage! Disaster and destruction tend To taller triumph in the end.
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5.9k
The Titanic
if you can be anything be kind. we are all just humans. we laugh at cute cat videos, hum little songs, eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass. life is made of these moments. people deserve so much love. how often do we remind our families we love them? is it often enough? how many days do we think only of ourselves. human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning. somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry. and it's fine to be angry. just don't let it consume you. remember sometimes that there are old folks out there who still tease each other, there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo, there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches, there are children spinning and laughing when they fall. humams are important. we are special. even people we say we hate. i thought i hated my mom but i know she cares and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger. i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job. being human is tough. our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but we end up locking people out. in trying to avoid being hurt we hurt the ones we love. please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet. people are stunningly complex. don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins. humans are worth so much. i don't know what i am saying but i mean it with all of me. i love you. you deserve so much.
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Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
remember that you are loved
if you can be anything be kind. we are all just humans. we laugh at cute cat videos, hum little songs, eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass. life is made of these moments. people deserve so much love. how often do we remind our families we love them? is it often enough? how many days do we think only of ourselves. human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning. somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry. and it's fine to be angry. just don't let it consume you. remember sometimes that there are old folks out there who still tease each other, there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo, there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches, there are children spinning and laughing when they fall. humams are important. we are special. even people we say we hate. i thought i hated my mom but i know she cares and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger. i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job. being human is tough. our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but we end up locking people out. in trying to avoid being hurt we hurt the ones we love. please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet. people are stunningly complex. don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins. humans are worth so much. i don't know what i am saying but i mean it with all of me. i love you. you deserve so much.
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But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it? Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard? Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me? Can you love me then too? Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight? Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last **** When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then? What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted? Will you trust that Spring will return? Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life? Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me? Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire? Will you fear my shifting shape? Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does? Do you fear they will capture your soul? Are you afraid to step into me? The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you. So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here. Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart. You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky. If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you. If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire. I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold. I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching. So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are. There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great. A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm. She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster. She will see to it that you shall rise again. She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
A wild woman is not a girlfriend
But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it? Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard? Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me? Can you love me then too? Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight? Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last **** When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then? What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted? Will you trust that Spring will return? Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life? Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me? Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire? Will you fear my shifting shape? Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does? Do you fear they will capture your soul? Are you afraid to step into me? The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you. So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here. Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart. You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky. If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you. If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire. I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold. I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching. So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are. There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great. A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm. She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster. She will see to it that you shall rise again. She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.
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30
*“As for Charles – he likes girls. If he’s drunk, I’ll do. But – just when I’ve managed to harden my heart, he’ll turn around and be so sweet. “ “You like him a lot, don’t you?”* The night crumbles to dust as I trace every single crease, every nook, every edge of you. I drink you in, you drink cheap wine: you only kiss me with alcohol in your blood, you cannot stomach me without the drugs. A pile of cigarette ash on the floor, broken glass. Shattered ice cubes and cigarette butts. It’s a scene of decay; you and I could only survive if you whispered sweet nothings and I let you gut me. You lead me on and I always slip, and touch you and believe this time will be the time you stay, this time will be the time you remember last night morning come, this time will be the time I am the one. It rains the first time and there’s a bottle of scotch; we play cards; you’re drunk: I strip you off; tonight you smile; tonight you will not mind if I touch your jaw your lips your waist and below and your heart no – never your heart. Then it’s a matter of time. You always come when you need me and I can never refuse to be the one who lets your tongue explore my mouth if only drunk if only for a while if only for the night. I’m there. I will do. For now. I kiss your lips your throat your neck your collarbones and down – way down – below and your heart no – never your hear. You twist me round your little finger and I would die and die and **** and die a thousand times to have you look at me and say I’ll stay tonight. My Charles. No – never mine.
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Fragile Bones
*“As for Charles – he likes girls. If he’s drunk, I’ll do. But – just when I’ve managed to harden my heart, he’ll turn around and be so sweet. “ “You like him a lot, don’t you?”* The night crumbles to dust as I trace every single crease, every nook, every edge of you. I drink you in, you drink cheap wine: you only kiss me with alcohol in your blood, you cannot stomach me without the drugs. A pile of cigarette ash on the floor, broken glass. Shattered ice cubes and cigarette butts. It’s a scene of decay; you and I could only survive if you whispered sweet nothings and I let you gut me. You lead me on and I always slip, and touch you and believe this time will be the time you stay, this time will be the time you remember last night morning come, this time will be the time I am the one. It rains the first time and there’s a bottle of scotch; we play cards; you’re drunk: I strip you off; tonight you smile; tonight you will not mind if I touch your jaw your lips your waist and below and your heart no – never your heart. Then it’s a matter of time. You always come when you need me and I can never refuse to be the one who lets your tongue explore my mouth if only drunk if only for a while if only for the night. I’m there. I will do. For now. I kiss your lips your throat your neck your collarbones and down – way down – below and your heart no – never your hear. You twist me round your little finger and I would die and die and **** and die a thousand times to have you look at me and say I’ll stay tonight. My Charles. No – never mine.
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*absolutely scandalous the way you are.. you treat me mercilessly for feeling cheerful .. so cruel attitude you are .. thou silent throughout my sense of my disappointment to smile .. truly evil your touch .. you whip my heartbeat pounding and carefree .. indeed bear your concern .. you fill up my weak with politely invincible .. really sneaky way you are .. you stole my heart a dozen years ago to freeze and harden .. indeed savage your sincerity .. you satisfy and pamper me until i could not walk on the mainland .. because you are the villain of heart of mine..!* ┈┈┈┈┈»̶·̵̭̌✽✽·̵̭̌«̶  ƦУ  »̶·̵̭̌✽✽·̵̭̌«̶┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ sang penjahat hati..! sungguh keji caramu.. engkau perlakukan perasaanku tanpa ampun untuk ceria.. sungguh kejam sikapmu.. engkau bungkam seluruh rasaku kecewaku hingga tersenyum.. sungguh jahat sentuhanmu.. engkau cambuk detak jantungku berdegup kencang dan riang.. sungguh tega perhatianmu.. engkau jejali lemahku dengan santunmu hingga tak terkalahkan.. sungguh licik caramu.. engkau curi hatiku belasan tahun lalu hingga membeku dan membatu.. sungguh biadab ketulusanmu.. engkau puasi dan manjakan asaku hingga tak sanggup kupijak daratan.. karena enkau adalah sang penjahat hatiku..!
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
the villain heart
A string of words that flow like the rivers, Showing enough thought to provide the shivers. Reflections of the poet within, The type thrown out in the garbage bin Or the type framed and hung on the wall. There's a poet within us all. Not all are eager to show their inner poet, But would rather let it set sail As rivers stream from their eyes Due to the symbolic lie They believe, making them pale As, with their sorrow, they wallow it. Patronizing executives and farmers Believe their exterior would be shattered If their inner poet let slip. Once somebody gives them lip, They harden as if it mattered And equip their shields and armors. The Spartan with the inner-Athenian Would be killed by his friends If they knew who he was on the inside. This fills him with fear. He keeps his ears open to hear If anyone is coming as he hides So his poetry will have its end Before this war with the Peloponnesians. Such beauty gone to waste All because this facade of masculinity Everyone puts on to protect themselves From the beasts in this society That would love to shatter those dreams. Artists should gather in teams, Ready to fight this anarchy That would place our poetry on the shelves, Collecting dust with haste. Collecting dust with haste.
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Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
The Spartan with the Inner-Athenian
She is like a red, thorn-stricken rose, A beauty prized inside my garden, Her body, like the petals, gracefully flows, Movement preventing the coldest heart to harden. I could be undoubtfully mistaken, For my eyes play tricks, like mischievous young boys, Making it rather difficult to awaken from a dream, Or escape from a well planned ploy. Only time will tell us, if it is meant to be, Fate will bring my real soulmate, at a moment of overwhelming darkness, The strong waves are beating against the shore, and back out to sea, Until I meet perfection, wearing a white linen dress. However, don't let the oppourtunity to find her pass you by, Especially when it presents itself in the blue sky.
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Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
Soulmate
All alone, again Feeling meloncholy and captive Within a cloud of intentional isolation As each thought comes and goes without an answer. Memories flicker in the crime scene of my mind. My perception is clouded by questioning every suspicion. As I try to stay unemotional and rationally make doubt my enemy. This day has now ended and I have not made a decision. Wondering when indecision and fear have intersected in my life. Have I become so insouciant that I am blinded? As I grow old and in my final hours, could this be my biggest mistake? I am unwillling to dwell in the present and find happiness again? Hours spent suffocating myself with regret Tried to harden my heart to the point of no return But, I perservere and try to rise above the abundancy of pain. Licking the salt from my tears as they drip to my lips. I now lay down, so silent that even my breath is quiet Asking if the pain is worth the possibility of a true love that will last. Will he crush my heart with unintentional love for another? A chance, I guess, I am willing to take. Or too soon? I can only pray that the right answer will come during my slumber And it will be within the will of my creator Praying that my dreams will be filled with the answers that I seek And tomorrow will be full of love, trust and loyalty.
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May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
MY OWN WORST ENEMY
I remember the jelly bean jar perched next to the owlish librarian in my school when I was younger. One lucky soul would win a prize for pulling the right number of jelly beans out of an air still filled with fancy. I can’t remember who won the prize, and I can’t remember what the prize was. But I guess as selfish minds are wont to do, I remember the act of guessing. It was a childhood of guessing, and I wonder if any of those guesses were truly wrong? When the engine of innocence toils away, any solution, however fanciful, can’t be false in a world that finds falsity in far more veritable places. I digress back to that jelly bean jar, packed full of sugar, and to a young mind, full of promise. To a mind such as mine, a mind akin to my classmates who shared my sugary desire for that jar, any guess was as good as the other, as long as any guess was your own. We clutched ordinary pencils scribbled on ordinary paper with our own extraordinary numbers. In the basket went these figures most accurate. Days during the week passed with those store brand jelly beans mashed against each other, childhood memories turned ordinary pages wrote with ordinary pencils until that singular, self-sure number mashed against pages turned against it. However strong that memory of numerology in a room full of words is etched in my mind; no trace of the end of the jellybean contest remains in my ledger. No trace of the disappointment of losing out on such a treasure trove of tooth decay. But I guess this is the way of the mind, it tends to trace out the positives while it remains filled with youthful levity, no weight is imbued in innocent minds, and so tragedy, loss, and disappointment float away past untroubled eyes. But time rolls on and much like the crushed growth under an ever-rolling stone, our lives start to fall harder on softened memories. Our lives harden with our heads, and those days of living out short-lived fantasies fade with jelly bean guesses. So as we mature and feign to seek the truth, a small part of me keeps a singular page earmarked for a time when the truth no longer weighs down the air with half-true deceit, and a mind long abandoned will return to grasp fanciful ideas out of an air that’s still light enough to evade our youthful fingertips.
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Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
Jelly Bean Guesses
I remember the jelly bean jar perched next to the owlish librarian in my school when I was younger. One lucky soul would win a prize for pulling the right number of jelly beans out of an air still filled with fancy. I can’t remember who won the prize, and I can’t remember what the prize was. But I guess as selfish minds are wont to do, I remember the act of guessing. It was a childhood of guessing, and I wonder if any of those guesses were truly wrong? When the engine of innocence toils away, any solution, however fanciful, can’t be false in a world that finds falsity in far more veritable places. I digress back to that jelly bean jar, packed full of sugar, and to a young mind, full of promise. To a mind such as mine, a mind akin to my classmates who shared my sugary desire for that jar, any guess was as good as the other, as long as any guess was your own. We clutched ordinary pencils scribbled on ordinary paper with our own extraordinary numbers. In the basket went these figures most accurate. Days during the week passed with those store brand jelly beans mashed against each other, childhood memories turned ordinary pages wrote with ordinary pencils until that singular, self-sure number mashed against pages turned against it. However strong that memory of numerology in a room full of words is etched in my mind; no trace of the end of the jellybean contest remains in my ledger. No trace of the disappointment of losing out on such a treasure trove of tooth decay. But I guess this is the way of the mind, it tends to trace out the positives while it remains filled with youthful levity, no weight is imbued in innocent minds, and so tragedy, loss, and disappointment float away past untroubled eyes. But time rolls on and much like the crushed growth under an ever-rolling stone, our lives start to fall harder on softened memories. Our lives harden with our heads, and those days of living out short-lived fantasies fade with jelly bean guesses. So as we mature and feign to seek the truth, a small part of me keeps a singular page earmarked for a time when the truth no longer weighs down the air with half-true deceit, and a mind long abandoned will return to grasp fanciful ideas out of an air that’s still light enough to evade our youthful fingertips.
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It would be when the air would feel like silk or like the hues were almost brighter. It was when the hills felt lower and the low felt lighter. In the speckles of day when I would sing to the tune of another’s brass, Somehow my daydreams would still hold a conversation with you. You’d saunter in with kindness and class; The kind of attitude that sometimes I wish I had. Your tone and diction were hard to imagine, They lacked the luster and the passion. They were all the corridors to every phrase. They were all the oddities I wanted to praise. I can feel the wax melt from my wings with just the thought of knowing you in abundance. You are a Sun to my sand with a depth I should never learn. You’re a distance that feels relaxed and at a level I could never convince. At your hand would I bloom into my hyacinth petals or would my roots begin to rot? Would I compliment your warmth by offering a place to rest or would my minerals begin to harden into a glass for my next cathedral? It’s necessity the keeps the unknown locked in a mental maze that which I have mending to wrought. Still, my stargazing will end when I fall. Those feathers left to remind me of how little about you I’ve ever actually known; And yet how bittersweet to imagine having ever flown.
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May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 10:29 PM UTC
Hyacinth in Hibiscus
Haunched like a faun, he hooed From grove of moon-glint and fen-frost Until all owls in the twigged forest Flapped black to look and brood On the call this man made. No sound but a drunken coot Lurching home along river bank. Stars hung water-sunk, so a rank Of double star-eyes lit Boughs where those owls sat. An arena of yellow eyes Watched the changing shape he cut, Saw hoof harden from foot, saw sprout Goat-horns. Marked how god rose And galloped woodward in that guise.
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4.1k
Faun
I guess you want me to say I'm sorry But I cant... You hurt me, put a bullet in my heart Like I was an animal in a safari I needed you...you left..said it was cause of something i lacked I'm fixing myself, no thanks to you And now you want me back? I'm not the same as before You were fine knowing that I was hurting I had to pick myself up   Harden my heart now I'm  as cold as a stone floor I loved you but I guess you didn't love me I'm no longer sorry I did the things i did I'm not sorry i gave up Just like you did with me....
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Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
I'm not Sorry
Ko Ko to Go Go a prelude to a kiss dance with Chubby Checker lift a slo gin fizz Head bobs to Be Bop flip the B Side now mellowtune in monotone two ears for stereo wow! Wonderment of Duke and Miles swinging kool birthin boplicity urban crush the hipsters rush jazz joints cross the city Firery sax emote a clash strain ears of credulity Lester leaps creative heat nips harden on my ******* Max taps exotic wax Django's quick pickin finger snaps flip my lid lips deliciously sippin Eurozone a Zen zone a blue infinitive smokin big peeps dig don pink wigs fat spliffs hot token My new suede shoes walks west end blues Pop's cornet got me tippin his open blast first to last I like cornbread, barbecue and fine home jazz cookin jbm Oakland 3/12/10
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Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
I Like Jazz
Only friendship. You made yourself clear - clear as glass - that it could never be more. But as I too am glass, a small shard of me broke off and shattered. And why did it ignite my spirit to be in your presence, to be enfolded in your warmth Why, why did it set my heart aflame, burn me with such flammable, incendiary envy To see you lust after another, to want far beyond friendship with them Why did that melt me I was already committed to another, no matter if it was a dry, barren whisper of once-existing love or a forest of endless rain It was commitment Yet in spite of this, I continued to melt Melting, right down to my core Where I am just sand Vulnerable, exposed, walked-on sand that could, at any second, be picked up by the wind and taken to another pit of uncertainty But you You dropped the empty attempts And you began giving me your time You showed me the naïveté that I am, and you took my hand and led me through a dark room It was cold, and I was afraid And you could not tell me that "everything would be okay" Because this was real, unfiltered life you were motioning to before me And though it was not a fully comfortable realisation, The cold slowly thawed, from the outsides into my core, my sand And as I thawed, as you too made yourself more vulnerable, I at last began to take shape Perhaps I have a calling Beyond this fragile shell I consistently run back to for shelter, return to when it yearns back for my unearthed body to be protected again But I knew better, That when you molt from your armour, Its purpose has been used up, and it is now just an empty shell, and it is time for that shell to be discarded. And now, in my infantile flesh, I trust that you can be my protector until my new shell can learn to harden I am still unsure today if it has solidified, Because I am focused elsewhere Focused on you My heart's every beat feels light at the remembrance of you My mind's every thought a whirlwind From the dissonance of reaching for you and being tempted to go back under the comfort of my old shell, from the knowledge that these two cannot coexist But my soul, my soul is nearing soundness at last Because with you here, I feel that my honest identity is at last coming to life With you here, Your breezes blow, but I do not fear that I will be carried away Your shore arrives, but I do not fear that I am going to wash away Though it was you who dared grind me down to my initial state of innocent sand, You have sculpted me, even with the uselessness that I've felt I am Shown me my potential And made me a flourishing seashore.
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Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Sand under a shell.
Only friendship. You made yourself clear - clear as glass - that it could never be more. But as I too am glass, a small shard of me broke off and shattered. And why did it ignite my spirit to be in your presence, to be enfolded in your warmth Why, why did it set my heart aflame, burn me with such flammable, incendiary envy To see you lust after another, to want far beyond friendship with them Why did that melt me I was already committed to another, no matter if it was a dry, barren whisper of once-existing love or a forest of endless rain It was commitment Yet in spite of this, I continued to melt Melting, right down to my core Where I am just sand Vulnerable, exposed, walked-on sand that could, at any second, be picked up by the wind and taken to another pit of uncertainty But you You dropped the empty attempts And you began giving me your time You showed me the naïveté that I am, and you took my hand and led me through a dark room It was cold, and I was afraid And you could not tell me that "everything would be okay" Because this was real, unfiltered life you were motioning to before me And though it was not a fully comfortable realisation, The cold slowly thawed, from the outsides into my core, my sand And as I thawed, as you too made yourself more vulnerable, I at last began to take shape Perhaps I have a calling Beyond this fragile shell I consistently run back to for shelter, return to when it yearns back for my unearthed body to be protected again But I knew better, That when you molt from your armour, Its purpose has been used up, and it is now just an empty shell, and it is time for that shell to be discarded. And now, in my infantile flesh, I trust that you can be my protector until my new shell can learn to harden I am still unsure today if it has solidified, Because I am focused elsewhere Focused on you My heart's every beat feels light at the remembrance of you My mind's every thought a whirlwind From the dissonance of reaching for you and being tempted to go back under the comfort of my old shell, from the knowledge that these two cannot coexist But my soul, my soul is nearing soundness at last Because with you here, I feel that my honest identity is at last coming to life With you here, Your breezes blow, but I do not fear that I will be carried away Your shore arrives, but I do not fear that I am going to wash away Though it was you who dared grind me down to my initial state of innocent sand, You have sculpted me, even with the uselessness that I've felt I am Shown me my potential And made me a flourishing seashore.
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