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"hightailing" poems
Hips don't help when I'm hightailing home hurrying... Times like these, I'd rather be asexual. I see shadows slink-scurrying slithering slyly sneering... I hate your ability to intimidate. I want to turn toward and take on your trash toughly... But there's five of you and one of me. And my hands are small. No matter the mothering moralists who match me to men meaningfully... I am a woman, and I am still afraid. Self-defense can only go so far... and my hips don't help.
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Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
Hips Don't Help
I walked into a room where you were And my pride kept me from hightailing It out of the room and running until My legs burned with lactic acid. You spoke to me but the words fell on dull ears. You looked at me but I kept my walls up Such that in my head I was invisible. I had done so well protecting myself, Staying away from the places you frequented, Not spending time with the people you call friends Even though they were my friends first. And then today all my efforts became Void, vain, utterly useless, For there I was inwardly crumbling The broken-then-stitched-back-together Fragments of my heart Between proverbial coldhearted fingers. My jaw is as set as my will: like flintstone, Cold, hard, and steeled. You may once have had a hold on me, Affected me, impacted me, But today, you are nobody.
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Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
Nobody
So many nights I stayed up late with him smothered by smoke and darkness, talking about freedom, listing all the reasons I couldn't wait to leave this place but it was never the small town I minded so much as the ever present loneliness. I remember my art teacher pointing out that all my ****** artwork held symbols of evasion -an open window with views of mountains shadows fleeing from a slit photograph an elevator open to reveal an aquarium Always things opening to reveal something better My thoughts are not chiseled in stone my eyes are not cold marble, they do not remain still enough to know permanence— They only speak escapism My dreams and fears are not geometric and carefully calculated. They are horribly bohemian, fluttering and echoing the uncertainty of a bird's   f l  *i  g                                    h                                              t* I am always planning evacuation routes, building gypsy caravans in the basements of my mind I will always be hightailing through the hedges and fences put up by friends and family I have been working on my vanishing act for the past 16 years and none of you will see it coming. And I do not like to show people the ways I have been broken, so I hide the evidence In that sense I am a perfect houdini -a successful illusionist, a stunt performer I've learned that many questions like handcuffs can be avoided and evaded as I have become able to regurgitate small white lies like keys at will There is one escape that I have never granted myself the release of a blade the empty prevarication of pain I never cut, never slit, never shed my blood I guess I've always been smart enough to know that a razor doesn't have the power to stop the *tempest* in my head I will forever remain a fugitive and when you look at me and my eyes are glazed it means I had snuck away to my world I've packed up and run off and you cannot follow me nor bring me back no matter how hard you try
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Fugitive
So many nights I stayed up late with him smothered by smoke and darkness, talking about freedom, listing all the reasons I couldn't wait to leave this place but it was never the small town I minded so much as the ever present loneliness. I remember my art teacher pointing out that all my ****** artwork held symbols of evasion -an open window with views of mountains shadows fleeing from a slit photograph an elevator open to reveal an aquarium Always things opening to reveal something better My thoughts are not chiseled in stone my eyes are not cold marble, they do not remain still enough to know permanence— They only speak escapism My dreams and fears are not geometric and carefully calculated. They are horribly bohemian, fluttering and echoing the uncertainty of a bird's   f l  *i  g                                    h                                              t* I am always planning evacuation routes, building gypsy caravans in the basements of my mind I will always be hightailing through the hedges and fences put up by friends and family I have been working on my vanishing act for the past 16 years and none of you will see it coming. And I do not like to show people the ways I have been broken, so I hide the evidence In that sense I am a perfect houdini -a successful illusionist, a stunt performer I've learned that many questions like handcuffs can be avoided and evaded as I have become able to regurgitate small white lies like keys at will There is one escape that I have never granted myself the release of a blade the empty prevarication of pain I never cut, never slit, never shed my blood I guess I've always been smart enough to know that a razor doesn't have the power to stop the *tempest* in my head I will forever remain a fugitive and when you look at me and my eyes are glazed it means I had snuck away to my world I've packed up and run off and you cannot follow me nor bring me back no matter how hard you try
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DO YOU KNOW THE SANDMAN?: (writing/poetry) Shhhh... Do you know the sandman.. .. the sandman? Do you know the sandman.. .. the sandman? well, I do hightailing in your vagary like whip lashes to your backside he is what dreams cannot give your eyes what a lonely surprise he and the shadows combined but he is spelling your dreams sleeping beside you in waves of moonlight and he snatches away the lucent in wake beside you he is whispering.... ... shhhh do you known the sandman... ... the sandman? do you know the sandman... ... the sandman? If you do well then, he knows you too.. once upon many dreams you've met and on one too many wheels turning... he crept while it spins you're in an abominable threat he'll tare down your sunlight thinking he was the moonlight ringing in your ears yet he huggs you in tighter to never awake he loves to stay still and never likes to move on he poke's at ever membrain holding in all what's meant in his palms hold your soul, in control cities in your mind in abominiation destruction and fear there, standing in the shadows he is waiting. Do you know the sandman.. .. the sadnman? Do you know the sandman? .. well, I do. (INCREDIBLE INK- TEAM JAGUAR HAWAII) © Rebel of Eden
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
DO YOU KNOW THE SANDMAN?:
got what he wanted at my expense. Said crack fast talking hacker and scammer pulled figurative wool over my eyes going incognito and speaking a clipped English mien his disguise. He appeared (rather sounded) genuine after yours truly experienced computer snafu (the Macbook Pro essentially hogtied courtesy virus that disabled any activity) even turning the laptop off then on only wrought frustration to boot. An out of state Apple computer technical support person impersonator (imposter invariably linkedin to aforementioned fraudster - most likely brother in arms) answered telephone number provided on the screen. Admonitions against sharing details about case in point, whereby cyberpunk donned many hats to convince me serious computer virus, malware, trojan horse, et cetera counterbalanced with voice on other end affecting sedulousness to "listen carefully" and carry forth the following commands. Yours truly trustingly, passively, meekly, et cetera (though feeling jittery) carried out the repeated instructions, which charlatan inveighed against speaking softly (in retrospect, I ought to have carried a big stick), indicating (as if held at gunpoint) to headout off to the Trappe branch of Citizens Banks and withdraw cash all the while recording verbal dialogue with small, medium at large criminal (the scam artist(s) in question). Upon retrieving legal tender (quite a *** thee next entrapment entailed driving to closest ATM machine, an MP gas station/convenience store in Collegeville to convert high denomination bills (a considerable number of money crisp Benjamins) into bitcoin cryptocurrency then hightailing back to where I live, an assisted living facility named Highland Manor. Finally, the schmegegge script (incorporating ejaculations that questionable hacker convinced me to swallow hook, line and sinker) alluded to strong likelihood scam artist lurked in close proximity to above named banking institution, which divine comedy bumbling Ace of spades, an inept card shark anagram name Meg Found left as crypto clue told.
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Jun 25, 2023
Jun 25, 2023 at 1:09 PM UTC
The creep (alias Harvey Specter)...
got what he wanted at my expense. Said crack fast talking hacker and scammer pulled figurative wool over my eyes going incognito and speaking a clipped English mien his disguise. He appeared (rather sounded) genuine after yours truly experienced computer snafu (the Macbook Pro essentially hogtied courtesy virus that disabled any activity) even turning the laptop off then on only wrought frustration to boot. An out of state Apple computer technical support person impersonator (imposter invariably linkedin to aforementioned fraudster - most likely brother in arms) answered telephone number provided on the screen. Admonitions against sharing details about case in point, whereby cyberpunk donned many hats to convince me serious computer virus, malware, trojan horse, et cetera counterbalanced with voice on other end affecting sedulousness to "listen carefully" and carry forth the following commands. Yours truly trustingly, passively, meekly, et cetera (though feeling jittery) carried out the repeated instructions, which charlatan inveighed against speaking softly (in retrospect, I ought to have carried a big stick), indicating (as if held at gunpoint) to headout off to the Trappe branch of Citizens Banks and withdraw cash all the while recording verbal dialogue with small, medium at large criminal (the scam artist(s) in question). Upon retrieving legal tender (quite a *** thee next entrapment entailed driving to closest ATM machine, an MP gas station/convenience store in Collegeville to convert high denomination bills (a considerable number of money crisp Benjamins) into bitcoin cryptocurrency then hightailing back to where I live, an assisted living facility named Highland Manor. Finally, the schmegegge script (incorporating ejaculations that questionable hacker convinced me to swallow hook, line and sinker) alluded to strong likelihood scam artist lurked in close proximity to above named banking institution, which divine comedy bumbling Ace of spades, an inept card shark anagram name Meg Found left as crypto clue told.
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