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"humanoid" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
Everything with us seems perfectly entwined, Like Lego locking together, It just fits like we should know but don't, Is this another life lesson I wonder, You are actually perfection on a plate, All my wishes confirmed for my eye's to feast, You listen, converse, laugh, speak sense, Your like my concious more innocent, When alone in my thoughts I know, I fell in love along the way, I'm evaporated by your honesty, Our souls melt into the Ether, Alien yet familiar fears dwell, A fool for love and lust, Heart brashly on sleeve, Afraid I'll chemically combust, I cant see your thoughts either, Are you just honeymooning this new behaviour, Don't misread that I'm wanting it fast, My heart prays to God It will last, All I need is something more concrete, I cant sweep this away just for encase, Every waking moment I long to embrace, In you my love knew we would meet, But for now we go with the flow, Fear you will bin me for another, All helplessly in love and lost, I'm almost certain my heart'll pay the cost, We lock just like Lego blessed from above, Humanoid Lego a gift of true love. © Susan Michelle Baker
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
Lego Love
~for Maya, the Persian Canadian farmer in the dell~ your poetic riddling questions without hesitation re my claim conceptual refuting with factoids actuarial experiential derived, that cows need milkshake making daily by sunrise nonsense so you wake me up groggy on a Miami Saturday 6:00am with a reciprocal poetic to a dashed off to contra my code of conduct poem-mine; and all that stumbles through my almost reset rested, main stem cortex is an a ancient hebrew homily: on Sabbath Saturday, even the cows sleep late ok; just tween us rare passes the day that a glancing phrase doesn’t register a stabbing whine “of me, of mine do sing” and your point counterpoint incision demands inspiration instant re-mission around 10am when the amiable barn aminals sipping cuppa #3, and the chicken children want a weekend brunch xtra feeding are done, in the yard, put out to pack n' peck n’ play so that’s an intro to this work that jumps the line of a hundreds of other’s poems promised and overdue: insight inside your crafted wake up slam slap was pretty **** near the makers mark bourbon of this distillers bourbon barrels bulbous poem’s bibliothèque that has an  impatient waiting list of poems waiting anointing each a personage~poem of that day it was birthed inscribed this particular one for you, ~ my complexity non-Napoleonic just humanoid each, here are my leaders from and into a veining so lovely colored each poem a waving wheat stalk before these old tired eyes close to closing hear once more “of me, of mine do sing” so I follow all of you by dimming yellow light, for this is the soil of nutriment rich from where my words grow taller and the yellow infusion feeds my wheats, the amber, the red hard and soft, the whites, the durums, and mon préféré, prairie spring white, which is my secret nickname for a duality woman, poet and farmer, posing riddles that deserve answers* maybe —- https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2503650/little-ole-me-a-riddle-of-sorts/
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May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
on Saturday, even the cows sleep late
~for Maya, the Persian Canadian farmer in the dell~ your poetic riddling questions without hesitation re my claim conceptual refuting with factoids actuarial experiential derived, that cows need milkshake making daily by sunrise nonsense so you wake me up groggy on a Miami Saturday 6:00am with a reciprocal poetic to a dashed off to contra my code of conduct poem-mine; and all that stumbles through my almost reset rested, main stem cortex is an a ancient hebrew homily: on Sabbath Saturday, even the cows sleep late ok; just tween us rare passes the day that a glancing phrase doesn’t register a stabbing whine “of me, of mine do sing” and your point counterpoint incision demands inspiration instant re-mission around 10am when the amiable barn aminals sipping cuppa #3, and the chicken children want a weekend brunch xtra feeding are done, in the yard, put out to pack n' peck n’ play so that’s an intro to this work that jumps the line of a hundreds of other’s poems promised and overdue: insight inside your crafted wake up slam slap was pretty **** near the makers mark bourbon of this distillers bourbon barrels bulbous poem’s bibliothèque that has an  impatient waiting list of poems waiting anointing each a personage~poem of that day it was birthed inscribed this particular one for you, ~ my complexity non-Napoleonic just humanoid each, here are my leaders from and into a veining so lovely colored each poem a waving wheat stalk before these old tired eyes close to closing hear once more “of me, of mine do sing” so I follow all of you by dimming yellow light, for this is the soil of nutriment rich from where my words grow taller and the yellow infusion feeds my wheats, the amber, the red hard and soft, the whites, the durums, and mon préféré, prairie spring white, which is my secret nickname for a duality woman, poet and farmer, posing riddles that deserve answers* maybe —- https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2503650/little-ole-me-a-riddle-of-sorts/
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47
the bottle's like a violin, screaming demons in my stomach, a cyborg forging information as lunch, purging an urge for self-destruction, my outer shell's cold but the circuits a storm, of electrical database lifespan into megabytes of **** see death is a story, and my analogies are allegories, mourning after the goriest morning is NOT worth storing, blank pages turn into mythical dissipation, and with that loud speaker you'd think he could pen down imagination, a midnight gig playing with cosmic instrumentation, for the humanoid race place your conscious on your invitation,
0
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Cockroach Sandwiches & Coke
Back in my village, in the middle of a pine forest, I walk for hours radiating yellow and green until the earth swallows me and spits me out as a mystical bird-like being. Like a peacock, I spread my shimmering, resonating feathers and bow to the giant raptor in the sky. I can only be obedient to his emanations. I fly back to my children, to my nest on a magnificent cedar tree. We entangle our necks and feathers in rapture knowing that soon, the earth shall reclaim my original nature. By the sea I sit and patiently wait to remember why I chose to forget. The wind moves the waters, and the waves cast the sunlight onto my forehead. I feel the heat increasing as my structure dissolves. I gain back consciousness in an aquatic atmosphere taking a turtle-like form with a shell and humanoid hands. I swim down following a series of glares and vibrations until I reach what is seemingly an immense turtle temple. I feel a sudden danger and crawl back into shell. I open up my eyes and find myself sitting by the sea again. Life is a journey of appreciation. I can only surrender and be grateful. Words Of Harfouchism
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Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 5:14 AM UTC
Earth Magic
Opportunity or opposing unity to unify and untie Leper's lesion sipping each seasonal reason for loving your flowing hair and knowing care Strike the stench and light the match and throw open the hatch jump inside along with furry-toad-love *** and lust and the vex of the ****** of what is on the television gone up and through and something grew inside my skull where IT is thus, null And I speak of course off course because of this coarse curse of your love Flinching finch-pinch-tense, since she's, hence, a personal goddess I'm a man of fetus-like love of birth and woman-girth I like my girls to be bigger Though perhaps for a less redeemable reason I am the humanoid-elemental-embodiment of low self-confidence And most are out of my "league" (at least physically and aesthetically)
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Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Anti-Exo-Ere-Post-Diction
Poor Putin is a dangerous psychopath No one likes to mention that one fact He is more like an ape than a human Sick little poor wasted Humanoid Vlad The Pope must be an openly psychopath Just the way he dress himself so foolish up Wonder if he is just enormously beautiful Naked with deadly eyes like Humanoid Vlad. ****** was a sick nasty **** psychopath A whole nation following his death path Now there is a ******* evil ****** Caliphate   Nothing to compare with Humanoid Vlad. I guess we all could be like psychopaths Take one deep look into our monstrous souls It contains mostly of neurons and pure fat We got no free will just like Humanoid Vlad. *Humanoid Vlad In ice cold motion Humanoid Vlad No love and no notion Humanoid Vlad Done it all calculated Humanoid Vlad His time hopefully faded*
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Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
Humanoid Vlad.
Her eyes, your solemn witness are so unlike mine I am untamed! a loose humanoid chained in gold always spinning under high beams like it's no big deal (while you reside in your mind) but why can't I dream too? I wanted you to stay you energized me (every contact left me broken yet intact) Hallelujah! You're outside! Traced your face in refracted light Stand-still silhouette Crop her out Fill the void with blackened foil while she makes nasty public announcements (and loves the attention creating irrelevant banquets and barbecues) This was never my war so hold fast to us or crawl or meet me at the door-- Wherever the blame feels a little less and confess I was the one you were looking for
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
The Barbecue
Life: A Carnival In so many ways we are a human freak show, just a breathing carnival attraction. So get the **** off your high horse, look around be mesmerized, hypnotized and wonderized by a world of awe. Let’s get real, move a few strands of DNA from here to there, drop some chromosomes at the deli to re-arrange their eating patterns and we would see that those mindless amoebas down the street is talking our language. Of all the billions of species populating this planet, we humans are the most ignorant, opinionated, **** for brains fools. We puff out our stupidity on a regular basis, books, movies, music, TV and social media 24/7/365 there is no end to the racist, slime eating, motherfukers brought out in grand displays as “experts” in a single hour of opinion disguised as “news” on Fox, or CNN, NBC, ABC or CBS a menagerie of fools. The world is a marvelous place, alive with diversity, which we should embrace. All of us, humans wide, emerged from Africa, humanities origins 10's of thousands of years ago. We humans are a carnival, a side tent freak show, all diverse and magnificent. And to all those idiot religious fanatics, USA, USA ignoramuses, de-evolve your brains, slither back under your rock, go back to your ancient, long gone humanoid origins, become like you are, extinct. Aztec Warrior/redzone 8.28.16 Note: yes it’s a rant after watching an hour of Fox CNN and MSNBC news... I must go throw up now. Apologies to Natalie Merchant whose song “Carnival” is embedded below, her song is a much more kinder celebration of our diversity.. I on the other hand cannot stay calm in the face of fascist fanatics pretending to speak for human beings.
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Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:16 AM UTC
Life: A Carnival
Life: A Carnival In so many ways we are a human freak show, just a breathing carnival attraction. So get the **** off your high horse, look around be mesmerized, hypnotized and wonderized by a world of awe. Let’s get real, move a few strands of DNA from here to there, drop some chromosomes at the deli to re-arrange their eating patterns and we would see that those mindless amoebas down the street is talking our language. Of all the billions of species populating this planet, we humans are the most ignorant, opinionated, **** for brains fools. We puff out our stupidity on a regular basis, books, movies, music, TV and social media 24/7/365 there is no end to the racist, slime eating, motherfukers brought out in grand displays as “experts” in a single hour of opinion disguised as “news” on Fox, or CNN, NBC, ABC or CBS a menagerie of fools. The world is a marvelous place, alive with diversity, which we should embrace. All of us, humans wide, emerged from Africa, humanities origins 10's of thousands of years ago. We humans are a carnival, a side tent freak show, all diverse and magnificent. And to all those idiot religious fanatics, USA, USA ignoramuses, de-evolve your brains, slither back under your rock, go back to your ancient, long gone humanoid origins, become like you are, extinct. Aztec Warrior/redzone 8.28.16 Note: yes it’s a rant after watching an hour of Fox CNN and MSNBC news... I must go throw up now. Apologies to Natalie Merchant whose song “Carnival” is embedded below, her song is a much more kinder celebration of our diversity.. I on the other hand cannot stay calm in the face of fascist fanatics pretending to speak for human beings.
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65
Oh the devil hath found                                           Interpreting perverse anomalies Oh the devil hath found                                          May you sphacelate you worthless antiquity Oh the devil hath found                                 You reek of cigarettes and unfrequented deliriums Oh the devil hath found                                           What pandemonium! Oh the devil hath found                                            An oasis in a wasteland Oh the devil hath found                                            A humanoid dichotomy Oh the devil hath found                                         A sought after moral wreck Oh the devil hath found                                            Love. ................................................................................. ....Que le diable et son amant se chargent........ .................................................................................
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC
Eldritch Abomination
I'm employed But not enjoyed They're annoyed Until I'm destroyed Then they fill that void With another humanoid I'm a hollow coil From lots of toil Like hot oil I'm not royal I just boil Underneath the soil I say howdy Loudly To the rowdy That doubt me And out me As mouthy This mistake Fish tank I drank Stank So rank My mind went blank I cannot fight it My mind on autopilot The roof I tile it To style it Violet While lit I am a changeling That is aging From waging A war raging Against those caging The rat who's racing The pain is inner As a fidget spinner A ****** sinner Ate for dinner For he's the winner Of the money printer And my mind of cinder They broke me No joking Just poking The nope king While hoping Society starts sloping Towards communal coping
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 2:34 AM UTC
Employment
I am being Followed I swear by those creatures in the corner of your eye I am being Followed I know by little monsters and larger beasts humanoid things and many legged creatures disappearing when looked at directly I am being stalked of course by my overactive imagination and shadows at least I hope so.
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Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 8:18 AM UTC
I am being Followed
She was fascinated by the way the beard floated across his face and disappeared without a trace into his ears and thought it was a camera trick. The camera doesn't lie is a lie, though we still believe what we can see,no longer polaroid the humanoid is now devoid of all reality, the photoshopper shops and crops,lops the tops and bottoms of his pics,sticks in bits that don't belong,digitised, giving verbal to the lies in view and finding few who disagree with the elements,reformed and shaped, the new caped crusader,tints,tone raider, I saw Douglas Bader with two legs but peg a negative and hold your tongue,I like to watch the colours run on the drip dry line,processing time. I don't like the fact that numbers attacked this art in forms of decimals it makes us vegetables relying on the cut and crop of photoshop must stop. I told her that it was no trick,he had the beard but the camera was sick,she listened to me in disbelief and from her briefcase took out a camera and snapped a picture of his face, and now I'm fascinated in a way as to whether we can photoshop a rainy day and turn it into something good I wonder if we could or not,must take a look at photoshop.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
Tango time
You're the knight I'm your steed There are signs I can't read There are things I can't be The choir sings When you see An engagement ring Will set me free But you turn into a beast And I'm your prey feast So I hide in the crease Between best and least Between sinner and priest Between molasses and grease I hide from a monster That looks like a lobster Mixed with a mobster Using a humanoid claw To impose martial law To avoid my small flaws You were my Goliath of reliance Until we collided with defiance And I didn't know how to cope With a lycanthrope You're a mixture of Jackie Chan and Jackie Kennedy You're in between human man and human centipede You walk through the quiet land as I hide in the trees The hourglass empties as the sand tickles like fleas You're a monster unreal When this way I must feel You have the power to give or take my heart And you've used that power from the start You're a Tyrannosaurus rex When you flex You're a scarab beetle When you're evil The combination of the two Is the reason my anxiety grew You're a demon That can ****** loneliness You're the reason I've become a bony mess When I get things off my chest To expose my organs And you call it just fun So I realize you're the one From the emotions you take And the emotions I can't fake So meet me in the shed And give me Pumpkinhead To forget the blood I've bled And the taste of mud I'm fed So you can be my monster I'm not worth
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Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
Monster
You hedonise yet killed your gamble Coveting, lusting, groping for words. You penetrate her deepest thoughts Imprison her, criminal humanoid. You steal her breath in the strokes of your pen Your delirious limerick strangling her. But your words in aching beauty Gratify the body of your poetry. Now you reached the ****** in your robust stanza The provocative lines steaming desire. You hit upon another magnum opus A mortal sin told in the poem of Oedipus.
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Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
To Write a Poem is a Mortal Sin
(WE ARE!) The space pioneers, planetary colliders seizing the heavens and placing them on earth, pop pop big bang brain busters that spin galaxies into milky ways and planets into candybars, the alien humanoid reflectors reflecting the sun back into Van Gogh’s Starry Night. (WE ARE!) The fire-starters, self-combustion, canvas arsonists. IGNITE! Light the streets on fire with your blood. Explode, implode, and explode again. Pilot to bombardier, we’re dropping bombs like Guernica. (WE ARE!) Wild creatures born out of black magic, black mamba, bear your ******* fangs! Be a predator! Find you’re prey, rip it’s ******* guts out, and paint something with them. Then scream, scream so loud that Munch himself would tell you to turn it down a notch. (WE ARE!) The creators, the ground shakers, the earth quakers, inventing ideas, gushing thought, and gushing blood because remember, you are alive! Alive with creativity, passion, and energy to create, because we are artists.
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
The Creators
gyrating harmonies intertwined a thousand wordless dreams expressed in reassuring grasps of cool fingers and feathered kisses. floating in space caught in the mist of a nebula body split into a million particles -- breathing out and reassembling. two bodies juxtaposed. familiar yet foreign. passed down by multitudes of humanoid ancestry -- but individually poignant, each moment a tangible wisp of memory. secrets whispered in shaky breaths borne on the back of vulnerability. broken into pieces of raw soul.
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Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
carnage
What sets us apart as humans? Our vast knowledge of things that don't matter Perhaps The common core standards that textbooks preach Maybe Our self absorbed selective minds Or The fact that we cut our skin to feel beautiful Quite possibly The way we document every little thing we do Or maybe The way we measure our worth in the number of likes on that selfie we posted But I think Aside from the flawed society we live in What truly sets us apart Is our craving for love The need to give it And receive it And whether or not that's a good thing I've yet to decide
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
Humanoid
*One breath is all it takes to change my identity. One step is enough for My uncontrollable mind. An imperceptible hand is Leading me through their amusing creation. Eyes once closed, nevermore opens. Hollow thoughts, escaping my lips. They mislead me, Into the the confinement of my own emotions. They enjoy messing with my mentality. They relish getting under my skin; deep in. They secured a place for me, the spotlight. Making me entertain every personality. They compelled me to anger them, Making their voices get louder. Their intention to sever my consciousness. They earn for my downfall. They accomplished their goal, a destructive doll. A humanoid, a cold being. They exhibits me, Carries me through the center of myself. Their amusement is crazily addicting. It won’t be long before the invasion comes. The aggression of my lunatic identities. They're keeping my world in a hypnosis. They're enemies inside of me. They're making me the attraction of their psychotic parade.*
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
Psychotic Parade
she falls for the beauty of the cheekbone and spine constellations of freckles road maps of arteries as she combs her fingers through luscious waterfalls she harbors a constant longing to understand the vital ***** residing in his chest cavity
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:17 AM UTC
humanoid
it's my last day being seventeen and what i want to do is scream howl menacingly into the void and i want to stop pretending i'm anything close to humanoid
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May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 1:44 PM UTC
seventeen
*An isolated farm house In the outskirt of town. At the strike of 3a.m Someone came knocking. With a lamp at hand Old Mrs. Peterson descended the Stairs Into her quaint living room, To the door she went. "Knock knock" it came again Puzzled, at the grandfather clock She glanced. "Knock knock" again it came. In trepidation, she approached the door. Key turned, doorchain detached, Gingerly, she opens the door There was no one. No one! Few seconds later, she was startled By the sounds of hooves Thumping up her stairs, And on the wall Was the eerie shadow of A humanoid creature With ram horns and hooves.*      I had better call the sheriff        She mutters in displeasure      **I have a **** bugler dressed in a crazy costume in my house**
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Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
Someone Came Knocking
Dying straight line Blissful reverie beginnings Fill mason jars with Cataclysmic repertoires And loving memories Specifically orchestrated Pyroclastic like similes Apprehensive to gestation Systematical count down To an evitable destination But a soul may yet soar On breezes men never fly To hear the tune of resonance Corporal forms rarely perform Feel opulence in not but illumination Transparent millennia as but a flash Far beyond a humanoid pursuit So while a body starts with intending Spirits are infinite and never ending You may think we are a dying straight line But we are a circle….reinventing.
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Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Dying straight line
Is a pack, is a clique, Is a group of tightly-knit friends People who can rely on me The way I'd rely on them.                                                         But people these days are plastic dolls                                                         Carbon copies, cardboard homes And paper mache walls. Disappointing, fake, humanoid clones.
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
'All I Want In Life' or 'Paper Mache Barbie Dolls'