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"humanistic" poems
Time: 7:30 pm Temp.: 68F ~~~ overlooking the runways, festooned by accidental heavenly whimsy, or humanistic whimsical inten-sity, all the the planes and trucks are flashing electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced red and green it is not my holiday, but no matter, like every New Yorker this day, I am happily celebrating its double U, unique, unusual "record breaking warmth" yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of early eve~night, the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde, as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees, on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of December, two nought and fifteen traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself, the maddening crowds gone, now all are among the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith, (I mean my face), the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart city  bustle and hustle, the languid atmosphere at the gates, (where seldom is heard an encouraging word)# makes me reconsider the true meaning of the au courant phraseology of this day "record breaking warmth" for there is indeed a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite, chests glowing from fireplaces within, contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart, and I am thinking miracle, about all the human warmth on this celebrated evening, holy night indeed, it is breaking records of recorded human fusion, the united commonality of millions warming his and her stories world-over, that your personal poet is warming to record
0
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
Christmas Eve, 2015, LaGuardia Airport, NYC
Time: 7:30 pm Temp.: 68F ~~~ overlooking the runways, festooned by accidental heavenly whimsy, or humanistic whimsical inten-sity, all the the planes and trucks are flashing electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced red and green it is not my holiday, but no matter, like every New Yorker this day, I am happily celebrating its double U, unique, unusual "record breaking warmth" yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of early eve~night, the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde, as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees, on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of December, two nought and fifteen traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself, the maddening crowds gone, now all are among the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith, (I mean my face), the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart city  bustle and hustle, the languid atmosphere at the gates, (where seldom is heard an encouraging word)# makes me reconsider the true meaning of the au courant phraseology of this day "record breaking warmth" for there is indeed a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite, chests glowing from fireplaces within, contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart, and I am thinking miracle, about all the human warmth on this celebrated evening, holy night indeed, it is breaking records of recorded human fusion, the united commonality of millions warming his and her stories world-over, that your personal poet is warming to record
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51
This little man that I know with money in his sockets and routine in his pockets has self proclaimed that he is a tight *** When I envision a *** such as this, I imagine a bundle -- of securely aggregated, perfectly sharpened number two pencils. The businessman just shy of adulthood and too tired to remember –even the beginning of his of disclosure, denied his struggle to acclimate a multifarious lifestyle, appropriately suggested in the form of a triangle, and a circle, both of which embody polar opposing adaptations of humanistic routine. The two shapes: The circle, denies the break in motion by imposing a constant cycle of diligent compression, there is no room for pause only steady flow and relentless drive. This influence of life impression slows down the heart, body, and soul while speeding up time. This particular commitment accommodates the dry colorless beings that embrace and accept boxed imprisonment. Traditionally, the triangle denotes rhythmic patterns that elevate and drop to a point in which imposes a healthy reflective pause: progression, reflection, balance. As stated, as a provincial approach, a regular triangle flat on its base, peaking at the top represents a healthy, solid life routine. In contrast, the triangle can be flipped upside-down introducing an entirely new dynamic, composed of flat-lined monotony, tapered off to a regressed realm of destruction, regret and disorder. Despite the uniqueness of the standard triangle model to the man in question, it is important to compare the negative reflection, for it applies to the entirety of this investigation. We used to be lovers, he and I. We shared my giant pillow-top that I bought on the black market for a meager two-hundred fifty. -- A mere steal at that rate. We occasionally exchanged ideas, mainly about ethical concerns related to globalization and the environment. I attempted to give him a cooking lesson once, but that failed, indefinitely. The bust was not my doing, but simply, a great disinterest on his part; or better yet an inability of not being better than me at something. Everything has gotten so crowded.
0
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
something that happens.
This little man that I know with money in his sockets and routine in his pockets has self proclaimed that he is a tight *** When I envision a *** such as this, I imagine a bundle -- of securely aggregated, perfectly sharpened number two pencils. The businessman just shy of adulthood and too tired to remember –even the beginning of his of disclosure, denied his struggle to acclimate a multifarious lifestyle, appropriately suggested in the form of a triangle, and a circle, both of which embody polar opposing adaptations of humanistic routine. The two shapes: The circle, denies the break in motion by imposing a constant cycle of diligent compression, there is no room for pause only steady flow and relentless drive. This influence of life impression slows down the heart, body, and soul while speeding up time. This particular commitment accommodates the dry colorless beings that embrace and accept boxed imprisonment. Traditionally, the triangle denotes rhythmic patterns that elevate and drop to a point in which imposes a healthy reflective pause: progression, reflection, balance. As stated, as a provincial approach, a regular triangle flat on its base, peaking at the top represents a healthy, solid life routine. In contrast, the triangle can be flipped upside-down introducing an entirely new dynamic, composed of flat-lined monotony, tapered off to a regressed realm of destruction, regret and disorder. Despite the uniqueness of the standard triangle model to the man in question, it is important to compare the negative reflection, for it applies to the entirety of this investigation. We used to be lovers, he and I. We shared my giant pillow-top that I bought on the black market for a meager two-hundred fifty. -- A mere steal at that rate. We occasionally exchanged ideas, mainly about ethical concerns related to globalization and the environment. I attempted to give him a cooking lesson once, but that failed, indefinitely. The bust was not my doing, but simply, a great disinterest on his part; or better yet an inability of not being better than me at something. Everything has gotten so crowded.
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7
Living this life is unpredictable until the end; conclusions of the statement are only made from opinionated experiences. At the dawn of birth, there is "choice" and "choices", are for better or worse. There is an expression that goes, "everything is likely fifty-fifty in choosing", consequently believe it to be true. Humanity exemplifies a just way of living, in an understanding that people make poor decisions due to the life they may have been brought up in, however, this life is full of petty mistakes as we know it, some unfortunate souls are born into a dysfunctional or broken family and others of a different situation i.e.(poverty). This could cause unjust mannerisms that occur in the daily lives we so often face. These situations very freely throw more than the average curve ball growing up. Sadly, I ask that we feel sorrow for the majority of individuals with an intention that in reading this; it would justify some clarity in my eyes through yours. With clarity, let there be a world in heartthrob, which could potentially change mankind towards purity. A very specific conclusion led me to this; When a man struggles at his own destiny because of his nature vs. nurture, his good along with his bad leak like a salivating sieve. However, his “good” shows his mentality and lust for life, yet his “bad”, shows his incompetence relating to a moral dignity for the greater good of living (if unfortunate). As this revelation evolves, humanistic mannerisms slowly slip away in a young society and fade from the common core values we once knew from our elders. Surrounded by an ideological critical society, a fear trembles for our youth has no future in a sense for they may be too deaf to hear their state of “consciousness”, to the extent of being blind to see their own “actions”. "The unknown spectator of our world; is the light beyond the dark,"
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Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
A Troubled Youth
Living this life is unpredictable until the end; conclusions of the statement are only made from opinionated experiences. At the dawn of birth, there is "choice" and "choices", are for better or worse. There is an expression that goes, "everything is likely fifty-fifty in choosing", consequently believe it to be true. Humanity exemplifies a just way of living, in an understanding that people make poor decisions due to the life they may have been brought up in, however, this life is full of petty mistakes as we know it, some unfortunate souls are born into a dysfunctional or broken family and others of a different situation i.e.(poverty). This could cause unjust mannerisms that occur in the daily lives we so often face. These situations very freely throw more than the average curve ball growing up. Sadly, I ask that we feel sorrow for the majority of individuals with an intention that in reading this; it would justify some clarity in my eyes through yours. With clarity, let there be a world in heartthrob, which could potentially change mankind towards purity. A very specific conclusion led me to this; When a man struggles at his own destiny because of his nature vs. nurture, his good along with his bad leak like a salivating sieve. However, his “good” shows his mentality and lust for life, yet his “bad”, shows his incompetence relating to a moral dignity for the greater good of living (if unfortunate). As this revelation evolves, humanistic mannerisms slowly slip away in a young society and fade from the common core values we once knew from our elders. Surrounded by an ideological critical society, a fear trembles for our youth has no future in a sense for they may be too deaf to hear their state of “consciousness”, to the extent of being blind to see their own “actions”. "The unknown spectator of our world; is the light beyond the dark,"
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43
If you were reincarnated as an animal Knowing everything you do now Would you treat humans differently than animals already do? Or would you bite the hand that beats? Or would you bite the mouth that eats? Would you treat humans kindly? That could be a bullet finding I come across a shivering raccoon Stuck inside a winter monsoon It's too young to survive I could help I surmise Its coat can't protect its form In my car it's nice and warm But I don't understand the raccoon And I fear it doesn't understand me Though I'm not proud of it I travelled around it Mosquitoes want your blood to survive The same way I want your love to arrive There's a pestering orbit Your teeth grind and grit I feel the need to feed I am overcome by greed I want you inside me So I insert my proboscis And you turn into colossus It's an animal process When you squash us So animals grow stingers And poison that lingers When we use our fingers To smash them And detach them From our humanistic existence They have a reproductive resistance So we keep fighting And they keep biting Because there's no end in sight When we see animals take flight We define anything different as animal This is our excuse to act tyrannical They feel our wrath When they're in our path We turn them into roadkill This world becomes a landfill Our hollowed humanity on the shelf We treat animals as we treat ourself
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Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Animals
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) But I remain a believer in my ancestral religion Whose God is wele but not the Germany world, it is a religion, Like most of universal ancestral ones, With appalling moral threshold, When Elijah Masinde of dini ya Misambwa Despised those who condemned man as notoriously religious He meant human religious approach to life is absolute in nature However diverse religions compete for human ears Rich ones glorified in the luring away of modal ears But all are devoid of spiritual impetus Disappointing the progenitors of religious imperialism These short-cutters in matters of sanctimony Will not come to our heaven They will get me sharing a cup of tea With my sister- in-law; Mary, the mother of Jesus And I will shun them, I will not know them I will not invite them to a heavenly cup of tea They will be suffocated by cadaverous appetite, For we honor our religion with ancestral regard; The Faith of Our Ancestors But in ridicule they call us kaffirs, pagans, christo-pagans, Animists, atheists, gentiles, non-believers, mediumists, Rebellious rebels or whatsoever they call us; The anti-muhamedan-mis-christologists, Let them delude themselves, If they disparage us with sick contumely Abreast the dumbfounding development in sciences Plus so fortuitous humanistic awareness, Humanity in Religion has to adjust optimally Religious masters have to help Interpret the religious Books, bible, gita, quran All Written or verbalistically in the glory of epical orality In tandem with the best centered Life extant, Otherwise selfish religions becomes an old wine bag With its old and stale wine, You will persuade Russian carousers to drink But to your chagrin, none will condone, your stale wine Do not seek to sell your faith Because every human community Has an ancestral faith Respect them all for that is gods in their accolade of Omonipresecence, Any man or woman without religion is dangerous But do not advantagize yourselves At the expense of people of other faiths It is good you reciprocated Planet earth is our only sure and known abode If we lived well here, and there is another world For those who will be good, we hope the conclave of Gods Would all sit in judgment for their credit And reward those who helped humble humanity Of their religions as well as those of other religions As for all the Gods love humanists.
0
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
Echoing Taban Makitiyong Reneket Lo Liyong
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) But I remain a believer in my ancestral religion Whose God is wele but not the Germany world, it is a religion, Like most of universal ancestral ones, With appalling moral threshold, When Elijah Masinde of dini ya Misambwa Despised those who condemned man as notoriously religious He meant human religious approach to life is absolute in nature However diverse religions compete for human ears Rich ones glorified in the luring away of modal ears But all are devoid of spiritual impetus Disappointing the progenitors of religious imperialism These short-cutters in matters of sanctimony Will not come to our heaven They will get me sharing a cup of tea With my sister- in-law; Mary, the mother of Jesus And I will shun them, I will not know them I will not invite them to a heavenly cup of tea They will be suffocated by cadaverous appetite, For we honor our religion with ancestral regard; The Faith of Our Ancestors But in ridicule they call us kaffirs, pagans, christo-pagans, Animists, atheists, gentiles, non-believers, mediumists, Rebellious rebels or whatsoever they call us; The anti-muhamedan-mis-christologists, Let them delude themselves, If they disparage us with sick contumely Abreast the dumbfounding development in sciences Plus so fortuitous humanistic awareness, Humanity in Religion has to adjust optimally Religious masters have to help Interpret the religious Books, bible, gita, quran All Written or verbalistically in the glory of epical orality In tandem with the best centered Life extant, Otherwise selfish religions becomes an old wine bag With its old and stale wine, You will persuade Russian carousers to drink But to your chagrin, none will condone, your stale wine Do not seek to sell your faith Because every human community Has an ancestral faith Respect them all for that is gods in their accolade of Omonipresecence, Any man or woman without religion is dangerous But do not advantagize yourselves At the expense of people of other faiths It is good you reciprocated Planet earth is our only sure and known abode If we lived well here, and there is another world For those who will be good, we hope the conclave of Gods Would all sit in judgment for their credit And reward those who helped humble humanity Of their religions as well as those of other religions As for all the Gods love humanists.
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56
xxxooo of a ritual so humanistic based on theories unrealistic the cause and effect should not retain it's simple logic... ...yet the formula remains the same: xxxooo (starlight in a can windmill blades carved by hand)
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Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
harlem river drive (1971)
They've sold their souls in the midst of humility and super-pervaded occult, they've sacrificed people just to get that fancy car, and that mansion like paradise, and all that glamors on the face of multi-universe, they are living in the era of self-aggrandizement, and more doubtfully contemplate christianity, they moved a step further to promote atheism, the concept of humanistic thought have been overthrown, and decisions made under the philosophy of postmodernity, depictions of reality are mystical and emanate from the dark prisms, their conception of glorification is different from the society's, therefore I'm hateful and watching as the world slowly chokes itself to death.
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
Greedy Disbelievers
Some time you feel as if you're lost in space Where you can not feel your weight or control your pace Strong emotion rushes through you...a fervor of a certain state For once you believe in something...deforming it, is your fate For u dissect the rules to make them your own regulations And u manipulate the semantics of the words to empty your frustration A man is not put in cages...unless he himself have carved and built the bars One can not leave an impact on you...unless you admit the scars I think; therefor i am...they say...everybody thinks...but not everybody is I write this note in a dark unworthy mind a poem of great amiss I do not say this with a heavy heart...but my image is quite clear Being scared of something is impossible...unless we emancipate the fear But if impossible is possible...than everything is potentially right And i would never argue with you on this point for i don't know how to hold up a fight Stop whatever we are doing for we are digging our own graves of regret Repent on your sins weather you believe in God or in humanistic respect A poem of thoughts, feelings, and grand reflection For if you don't have empathy you have affection You love your self and we love you gone...we sure do With all your suites,fake propaganda and formalities, ow how i wish the sky above us was blue It is blue in color, but not blue in mind It is true inside; but truth is hard to find BELIEVE THAT THE SKY IS REAL? BELIEFS ARE LEFT BEHIND...
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Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
A RAGING VOICE, A STORMY HEART,SOME FUZZY LINES:
*deep sigh A tear falls from his eye "Good bye" Until next time. Where there's no time. And yet all time, time to stand up!!! And believe! Then with this, you will receive All the tools to achieve Your Holymasterpeace Your hold is Dastardly The boldest pastor speaks, Forth from-with-which we dabble in Spirits blasphemous Capture this... Rapture the aperture My God is a carpenter Building a kingdom here Inside of this atmosphere Clearly you too are here. Heard & really revered Didn't revert to the curse Sneered on his belly from in the dirt Your heel, shut him up. So Father  fill me up! So I can "go..." I'm Omw I'm just moving slow... And so the story goes
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
humanistic dream (prelude to t.i.t.n)
You're still the first name I think of when I scan my thoughts scouring for a thought; when I need a thought to drift myself to sleep to I want to view you as innocence and I did for a long time and I tried to take your reticence as a sign of neutrality, not belligerence or a sense of mocking How silly was I, to assume that 5 whole months that you refrained from the topic of me was neutral That you were just moving on, but not on purpose But oh my, you've become more belligerent than I ever expected a little girl with a shrunken ego to be and my, I didn't think you could say those things about me. But you did. But, entropy is apt to only consume us; yet, the scatteredness of our atoms cannot explain why you chose to tell me that I am not right in life You've defended yourself by projecting yourself onto me and my making me the scapegoat so you can pick up some girl that you don't have to ***** to **** And I guess that humanists and I are wrong because well People ******* ****
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Humanistic
Theres a circle cycle of sides to the self of me Standing in the middle surveying my surroundings Noting each application and the consequences that apply Maybe I'm simply a hedonist Weighting for worn out pleasure centers to take a flame Or an optimistic pessimist Citing my self for the blame   My humanistic approach has lost appeal Defying my superego And hierarchy of needs reel Stuck in Erickson stages A psychodynamic underground war rages There's a linear graph Self sided to me Maybe I'm projecting all my insecurities And taking my abnormalities Out on maladaptive poetry
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Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
Maladaptive Poetry: Psych 101
Is it these petty imperfections that make us whole? See forth the future, at which the past is unrecognized. Steer clear of troubles and regrets and know you can only be humanistic. A withered heart deals great with a deserving smile. Take pride in yourself my friends for we have come too far not to. Do not fill voids with downfalls and accusations, we were made whole for some reason worth searching for. Now go find it.
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Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
The Most Endearing Scavenger Hunt
The crisis around the world shows The most humanistic qualities we pose The desensitization and ruins of peoples' innocence We douse our money, power, and glory in the hands Of a cold metal pistol, that barrels out to strike you down The cool air whispers out the truth when you've taken your last breath Knowing there is something more after death You release yourself from this radioactive cage You realize how close death hits home, and threatens To break your fragile arteries It's not the idea but the principal of humanism We call ourselves human, more powerful Above Nature's canvas and her life We dwell in a place where we think we make the most out of things Before Time decides where you shall lay We are weak and powerful We decide when it is right to fight But when the casualties are written on one's arm We decide to leave the world A bloodier mess
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 7:56 AM UTC
A Definition of Humanism
You call it a violin or a fiddle Depending on how you play it The same way life is a riddle Depending on how you say it Life can get raw in the middle Depending on how you filet it You can dawdle and piddle Or be somewhat fallacious But your time could run out Running a frivolous route And you can't look back and wish to have more When you don't know what to be wishing for There's a vexing question That needs inspection It's an intervention Of introspection It's a question colossal Not learned by the fossils That could cause a heart attack If there is courage you lack The question is simple What will you do when there are no answers? I feel like a ******* In a room full of dancers Because they hear the question and ignore it I hear the question and continually mourn it I am growing clockwise To the clock's lies Telling me I have time Which should be a crime So when the judge asks me the question I plead the fifth Because my actions upon further reflection Are crimes I admit The world I've searched this And found No purpose Only change To rearrange The elements Of this settlement Like the flames In my brain That are never quite the same Yet are always a runaway train I could say God's name in vain Or look for someone to blame But when my humanistic duty beckoned I said I couldn't be bothered that second Yet now I frantically fret For I'm filled with regret I should've seen that coming When I was mind numbing But I'll learn it was too late When I'm dying I'll learn that this is the fate I was buying All just because of a simple question It takes a lifetime to learn the lesson
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Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Question
You call it a violin or a fiddle Depending on how you play it The same way life is a riddle Depending on how you say it Life can get raw in the middle Depending on how you filet it You can dawdle and piddle Or be somewhat fallacious But your time could run out Running a frivolous route And you can't look back and wish to have more When you don't know what to be wishing for There's a vexing question That needs inspection It's an intervention Of introspection It's a question colossal Not learned by the fossils That could cause a heart attack If there is courage you lack The question is simple What will you do when there are no answers? I feel like a ******* In a room full of dancers Because they hear the question and ignore it I hear the question and continually mourn it I am growing clockwise To the clock's lies Telling me I have time Which should be a crime So when the judge asks me the question I plead the fifth Because my actions upon further reflection Are crimes I admit The world I've searched this And found No purpose Only change To rearrange The elements Of this settlement Like the flames In my brain That are never quite the same Yet are always a runaway train I could say God's name in vain Or look for someone to blame But when my humanistic duty beckoned I said I couldn't be bothered that second Yet now I frantically fret For I'm filled with regret I should've seen that coming When I was mind numbing But I'll learn it was too late When I'm dying I'll learn that this is the fate I was buying All just because of a simple question It takes a lifetime to learn the lesson
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60
Bestill one word used as a charm When you get oh so humanistic- and panicked- and- can't- breathe- Through the smog of your angststaranxietystarconcernstardespairstardismaystardoubtstardreadstarhorrorstarjittersstarpanicstarscarestarsuspicionstarterrorstaruneasestaruneasinessstarworrystarabhorrencestaragitationstaraversionstarawestarconsternationstarcowardicestarcreepsstardiscomposurestardisquietudestardistressstarfaintheartednessstarforebodingstarfrightstarfunkstarmisgivingstarnightmarestarphobiastarpresentimentstarqualmstarreverencestarrevulsionstartimiditystartremblingstartremorstartrepidationstarbête noirestarchickenheartednessstarcold feetstarcold sweatstarrecreancy Bestill and breathe and don't spare a second thought to the past You are Heaven-sent Dont. You. Dare. Forget.
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Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
A Reminder for Devon
You feel so lonely, the shadows overtake you, things never feel the same, if only. You don't feel accepted, you've held on fairly well, to your credit, but endurance can only go so far. You're at wit's end, the end of your rope, frayed and broken, but don't let go. Letting go seems easy, no more suffering, no more sighs, echoing through your soul. Your body is wracked with sobs, shaken, but you can't give in, don't pull the pin. Do NOT give in, don't let it **** you in, the tidal wave, the thunderstorm in your head. If you pull that trigger, you might as well do me too, the pain you'll cause is greater by far, than the hand you've been dealt. Don't give in to what is easy, do not give into the pain, but don't drown it out either, life isn't a game. No matter the hardship, no matter the trial, day by day, morning by morning, how great will be your reward, be it a culmination of humanistic ideals, or a loving father's arms.
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Bullet to the Brain
Glorious mind, speak to me, Offer only the darkest desires Haunting motives Raunchy passions Awful prayers And murkful ideas. Allow me not be certain Of where to locate Pure ideas and thoughts We all dream of. Stifle security ***** out our peace of mind Refuse entrance to water, Make room for blood. As we further this Humanistic inquiry Into ourselves.
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Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
That Crevice of our Mind
I have these spells of tiredness I feel I just would rather not exist Don't jump to the conclusion of suicide That is a humanistic depression ride I mean I just want to float away As if I was a particle of dust astray Float to a existance of peace, you see where no one tells their problems to me I am mostly a caring one Yet, I too am human I need to have fun!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is how I started my day I was under cloudy skies Even though I knew I had promised my friends At the nursing home I would be there to play I dug myself out on my way For the promises I make are meant to stay I was driving to my mission, when I realized tomorrow is Valentines Day So I stopped at the store to get candy To be cupids love display :~) When I showed up at the nursing home I started to share candy with my friends It was as though my tiredness had come to an end Listening to their complaints Didn't seem to be so sad It was as if the rain above Had turned into a rainbow Life was not so bad!!!! When they looked in my eyes As they complained, you see, I could feel gratification And their love for me I came to a realization That being the one To tell your troubles too "Is as good for me as it is for you" So next time it rains I won't complain
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
COMPLAIN RAIN
i treat all my physical pains, notably the sponge of an ***** hidden inside my cranium like a testament of hellish arithmetic - that's the easiest way of transcending the pain... treat it like an arithmetic sequence, that not even a genius could work out... but of course learn some humanistic deviation from the pain with de Sade - the charcoal rubbing of sadism against placebo most people crumble under... ponces and puny caricatures of humanity: but that's how i see pain,                 an unsolvable arithmetic sequence... and sure, they can laugh...                         but you're the last one laughing... which means you're basically the last / only person laughing.
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Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
arithmetic
the fear beats concrete pillows and cold alleyways though as white lines go by I wish that they would continue interrupted but focused enough to lead me there inferior, but motivated regardless such is such and life is life lead me to pillows fluffed in understanding, a bed fit for a delusional king, grounded in the caress of intrigue, with the spirit of the dreamer dangling up overhead take me to where I can dare to indulge in the freedom of waking with the sun, the right and reason to chase it to its ends, the need to be where it finds its refuge in the dark, the moon resonating slight, slipping memory of since passed splendor allow me to love, whatever that means paper thin walls, foolish dreams, countless meaningless things that bring meaning to those things countable and concrete and in no discreet way I long for life for despair for humanistic helplessness subject to all things beautiful and eternal the fear is in fact the pillow, the comfort, the shelter the reminder- and yet the distraction *one must, one must turn gold to dust* take the place of random space, and fill it with the tarnished grace the flaws, the tragedy the confusing beauty of it all I want it to disappear into my heart mind and soul stardust and delusions, my being my mystery that is what all is and must be and I will see this through I will be consumed
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
stardust&such
Life is complex, she said to me A statement unfortunately true, Reiterating the fact, real happiness Has become a fleeting virtue. The single most excruciating task Of anyone to ever, have to ask- Is to live this life, so full of pain As the human race, itselve's disdain Yet, its as effortless as drawing breath The simplicity of air Our automatic processes That which contagiously, we share: Laughter, Heartache, Hatred, Hope- the humanistic ways to cope. Despite that complexities insue, You know strength, to let faith renue Bestow some courage, place belief In all that initially brings you grief Every morning, a new dawn's shining- & every cloud, has it's silver lining.
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Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 3:56 AM UTC
Eloise
Our world is hell We cannot deny Disease lives amongst us It thrives within each soul Popping up with just a sigh Once upon a time Our world was much more calm Our air was clean Not infiltrated with so much pollution Our wonderous knowledge Told us we had to strive Make it better! Now look what we have done Disease popping up All over this nation Fibromyalgia metabolic disorders Cancer of many kinds Cardiovascular disease Diabetes, digestive disorders Liver disease The importance of nourishing the brain Anthrax Diet and recovery seem an impossibility Osteoporsis Dem bones: Do high protein diets cause bone loss This could drive one insane What is the cost Insanity some find to be The gravy train Human knowledge may have turned This world into hell Pray death will bring A clean slate To this humanistic spell
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Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
HUMANISTIC SPELL
a little man and a little me holding hands, admiring trees smoking bud and making love together, time is never enough but we don't look at the future instead we gaze at one another a spiritual connection in a very human world if only we weren't bound by humanistic words to describe what we feel; language is never enough
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Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
little lovers
In a clear cosmetic inclination Of my vast amount of limited intelligence I resolve what's known to sever the connection to oneness With my passive excessive alarming calmness I hide my humanistic conflicts in an unconscious state In the compression of unreleased hostilities I combat my unreserved civilities In a melting *** of unreasonable measures I find sensibility has lost its pleasure...
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
LOST IN TOLERATION
Family is what we all dream to be We may not want to admit it is actuality Truth be known All humans instill A faithful knowledge Our true Father lives above Portraying nonjudgemental love Some humans refuse this truth forever Or for so long Humans we insist we are so independently strong We must constantly question life We even tell others of their wrongs We are so hard headed "You see He must have a plan for ME" It may be Our Fathers plan For this humanistic madness To never end He is teaching us lessons They may never come to a rest Because we humans aren't the best We keep slammin each other into the walls When all we have to do is LOVE ONE ANOTHER Give Him Our Faith And Peace May Come To Us All I'm just believing
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
I'M JUST BELIEVING