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"impediments" poems
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand’ring bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
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Sonnet 116: Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds
Wherein without a mouthful of air, He spoke of materialism with a judge’s Merciless verdict. His eyes so glazed yet passionate, He threw his thoughts to the ceiling, Like rocks in a plastic bag, To see if it could make a bang And his speeches are so angelic Amongst the ignorant giggles And the frayed songs of yawns, You really had to give him credit. For, you See, he stares out at a whole different cosmic Sect in a wanton orchestra Filled with red wallows of Flags and pride. Scared jumbles strewn like flowers across this dying opinion-land, He’s seen it all despite his accent. He’s strummed cold and excited to be here. His life is a rusting metal scrap Tossed to the side of the masterpiece from whence it came. He thinks that everybody must have been a spy… No, wait, two quirks tossed in to Hear the Man talk. It’s all a Meandering walk from where The toads squat. He describes it as a war for the value of academic standards, Which are now expiring before his eyes, and how we’re all A bunch of rotting worms dying as we speak. The hope is That the people from your life will be defeated by you, Right? That’s how it goes in the war of everybody Against everybody. He desires to make all of life Into a dream… but that would result in economic Impediments. Give him the $1 million, also known as “the cool mill.” Everybody must have been a spy. You couldn’t look for this logic Beneath a rock Or stuck in your lover’s hair. He’s depressed because he is not asleep – he’s acutely aware. He speaks like rapturous nuns, throwing themselves on to the cross And begging me to ready the nails.
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Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 11:42 PM UTC
The Salamander Man
Wherein without a mouthful of air, He spoke of materialism with a judge’s Merciless verdict. His eyes so glazed yet passionate, He threw his thoughts to the ceiling, Like rocks in a plastic bag, To see if it could make a bang And his speeches are so angelic Amongst the ignorant giggles And the frayed songs of yawns, You really had to give him credit. For, you See, he stares out at a whole different cosmic Sect in a wanton orchestra Filled with red wallows of Flags and pride. Scared jumbles strewn like flowers across this dying opinion-land, He’s seen it all despite his accent. He’s strummed cold and excited to be here. His life is a rusting metal scrap Tossed to the side of the masterpiece from whence it came. He thinks that everybody must have been a spy… No, wait, two quirks tossed in to Hear the Man talk. It’s all a Meandering walk from where The toads squat. He describes it as a war for the value of academic standards, Which are now expiring before his eyes, and how we’re all A bunch of rotting worms dying as we speak. The hope is That the people from your life will be defeated by you, Right? That’s how it goes in the war of everybody Against everybody. He desires to make all of life Into a dream… but that would result in economic Impediments. Give him the $1 million, also known as “the cool mill.” Everybody must have been a spy. You couldn’t look for this logic Beneath a rock Or stuck in your lover’s hair. He’s depressed because he is not asleep – he’s acutely aware. He speaks like rapturous nuns, throwing themselves on to the cross And begging me to ready the nails.
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43
We were waiting at the trattoria for our friends to arrive, when she walked in, Aphrodite, alive. Her skin, olive brown, gently kissed by the sun. A fertility goddess if there ever was one. A picture of symmetry long legs and great hips. Neapolitan eyes and, of course, bee stung lips. Magnificent mammaries, barely contained in the briefest of dresses. as I stared, unashamed. There, of course, are impediments I won't try to hide. The ring on my finger, my bride at my side. Plus there's the issue of fifty years gone. My Romeo days have packed up  and moved on. Now our friends have arrived and, chaste kisses exchanged, We feast on our entrees as wine glasses are drained. As dessert time approaches I sadly observe she’'s not on the menu Pumpkin Cheese cake will serve.
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Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 9:28 PM UTC
A slice of Cheesecake
A self-arranged route. Ambitions led me forward. Every step was to gain my adolescent aspirations. I was confident. When life was array, The goals became my crutch, My vitality, The only reason to move, progress. Idealistic and naive. Blind and hopeful. I meandered swiftly, I gallivanted unsuspecting. If I was to truly exist, I had to control my haste. Oblivious to true adversity, I needed to digest the lesson, I needed to understand the complications. Unexpectedly, the caveat stared at me. I fought and clashed, To only raise the white flag of surrender. The battle was lost. Who I was eluded. I struggled through a sea of self-impediments. I allowed myself to drown in the agony. I did not have the armor to save me. Through the fog, I heard songs that healed. I held on to the words as they began to stitch me together. I started to crawl, I knew I would never be the same again. I knew I had to start a crusade, An onslaught against myself, An onslaught against the organization. I knew I would never be the same again. As I raised armaments, With the reinforcement in my ears, I began to evolve. The person I was became more substantial. I had further tribulations ahead, But I was more prepared, more capable. I was humbled, yet proud. The person I was became more unobstructed. Through the misfortune, My identity became solidified, I reattained my dreams, And I made efforts to get a steady hold. I told myself I will not founder. I told myself I could not relinquish. For this was the war that would define me, And I knew I must persevere.
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Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
Burdens Disguised as Hurdles
A self-arranged route. Ambitions led me forward. Every step was to gain my adolescent aspirations. I was confident. When life was array, The goals became my crutch, My vitality, The only reason to move, progress. Idealistic and naive. Blind and hopeful. I meandered swiftly, I gallivanted unsuspecting. If I was to truly exist, I had to control my haste. Oblivious to true adversity, I needed to digest the lesson, I needed to understand the complications. Unexpectedly, the caveat stared at me. I fought and clashed, To only raise the white flag of surrender. The battle was lost. Who I was eluded. I struggled through a sea of self-impediments. I allowed myself to drown in the agony. I did not have the armor to save me. Through the fog, I heard songs that healed. I held on to the words as they began to stitch me together. I started to crawl, I knew I would never be the same again. I knew I had to start a crusade, An onslaught against myself, An onslaught against the organization. I knew I would never be the same again. As I raised armaments, With the reinforcement in my ears, I began to evolve. The person I was became more substantial. I had further tribulations ahead, But I was more prepared, more capable. I was humbled, yet proud. The person I was became more unobstructed. Through the misfortune, My identity became solidified, I reattained my dreams, And I made efforts to get a steady hold. I told myself I will not founder. I told myself I could not relinquish. For this was the war that would define me, And I knew I must persevere.
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48
Every time I look around And ponder the things we obtain listening to the winds sound coming from beyond the terrain Filling my soul from inside Brushing all the stress and pain Opening my eyes on a side That we are all a brain! Not only does an ***** feed on blood supplies But It's how you stay sane It's where your personality lies It's where the great thoughts ingrain We search for miracles And we have one; our heads maintain Nerve cells with the shape of verticals Are that only what brains contain ? Our souls lie within We try not to let them drain Our dreams, our memories are all in They are like an unlimited chain We love, we live, we write our story with a pen On a marvelous paper called a brain Our blood is our ink And it keeps circultaing all over again You receive,  it responds That is why we feel pain But emotions are like ponds Happiness, passion and the excitement we gain In the most difficult predicaments You tend to use your brain With it you overcome impediments Which makes your way plain ! 10% is all what we use But don't you ever complain It's a gift that we shouldn't abuse However, a gem you must retain
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Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
''We Are All A Brain'' - Collab with Omega
2:30am, felt the hollows hands of death again. Fingers wrapped like a noose around my neck. Woke up distress in sweat. With tongue tied knots made of fear and frustrating attempts. I called out to mother but I felt 1,000 pounds of pressure standing upon my chest. Muting me into speech impediments and sinking me into the depths of what seem to feel like hell for a couple minutes. Body felt like dancing sharp needles in the air. As someone's eerie finger Sailed across the maps of my skin. Causing frantic earthquakes through out what seemed like my living corpse. I felt like discords, statics, and lost signal tv channels.
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Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 2:05 AM UTC
Sleep Paralysis
You are a dream I could have for a thousand sleeps, A wonderful dream in a moonlit night of loneliness, Of winding roads where our hearts may never be lost, Of silhoutted horizon where our love is unnoticed by most, Of soaring mountains where there are no impediments, Of azure skies where broken vows are ours to mend, Of shallow rivers where our memories may never sink, Of hourless forest where a never ending story do exist; Yet you are only a dream I could have for a thousand sleeps A wonderful dream in a moonlit night of loneliness.
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
Only A Dream
Once Upon a Time Many years ago I trod lightly through the woods Being careful not to crush the undergrowth with my feet; Gently, pushing aside impediments to my progress So as not to crush or bruise the soft, green foliage. In those days to make a noise was dangerous. So I trod quietly too. Many years ago I carried on my back a pack To stow essentials for my life: three days' food, ammunition, A hootchy and water; were then thought sufficient for one’s needs. On my waist I carried a compass, more water and hand-grenades. In those days we used books to escape the woods. So I carried one of those too. But the essentials they weighed heavy on my back. They hurt and made me clumsy, introvert, Looking in instead of out which was dangerous. So I lightened the load. Of course that was against the rules But how else was I supposed to live? I got rid of some food, the water from my pack,      But not the book. I kept the book.             And the hand-grenades.
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Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
Once Upon Time
This poem is written by Majd Al Deen and I ... I wish you consider it as well as enjoy it                ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Every time I look around And ponder the things we obtain listening to the winds sound coming from beyond the terrain Filling my soul from inside Brushing all the stress and pain Opening my eyes on a side That we are all a brain Not only does an ***** feed on blood supplies But It's how you stay sane It's where your personality lies It's where the great thoughts ingrain We search for miracles And we have one; our heads maintain Nerve cells with the shape of verticals Are that only what brains contain ? Our souls lie within We try not to let them drain Our dreams, our memories are all in They are like an unlimited chain We love, we live, we write our story with a pen On a marvelous paper called a brain Our blood is our ink And it keeps circultaing all over again You receive,  it responds That is why we feel pain But emotions are like ponds Happiness, passion and the excitement we gain In the most difficult predicaments You tend to use your brain With it you overcome impediments Which makes your way plain ! 10% is all what we use But don't you ever complain It's a gift that we shouldn't abuse However, a gem you must retain
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
We are all a brain !!
Each morning I awake with a renewed hope that my walk, my sifting through the day will become seamless like the dreams of my nights that flow from place to place without barriers, or hindrances to empathy, to understanding Like the water seeps through the soil, as the breeze blows through the leaves in my dreams each of us fully gather thoughts, feelings and desires of each other All relationships ensue unescorted by impediments My fear is that few others dream this dream rather haunted by nightmares that bleed into reality, nightmares of violence, poverty, despair of pockets of hell growing around them on this earth
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 12:53 PM UTC
No Barriers
365Nectar #48 Life and No Regrets Sun. November 10, 2013 11:26 P.M. Wildly dancing down Devil's highway to heaven life on the line... Unrecognizable negatives illuminating the revolution of evolution... Exploration of afterthought with a loaded gun elaborate irrational Rats emerge... Neglected emotions stomp out the room in a crazed tantrum and embellished restrictions gloat as enthusiastic whimsy encourages... Unpublished tolerance collects dust as a swollen hot head self-justifies and bamboozles life's strategy... Habitual self-inflicted torture is driven by constant social pressure and reflective adaptation is blamed for birthing excessive pain.... Premature gestation period makes the difficult practically impossible and Scavengers take obvious advantage of impediments... An overall reckoning... Confined to an ever-diminishing brain with the threat of imminent extinction... Turn your disadvantage into great advantage...abort helplessness and manipulate a spiral of effective intelligence... Be Unapologetic with Deliberate... Absolutely Decisive with Destructive... then sign-off with NO REGRETS.
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
Life and No Regrets
Minds drawing blanks To this semi loaded weapon As broken ear gets spoken upon By wasteful youth, spewing out mouthfuls Speech impediments, Speech impairments Drink to slur your words upon empty promises Rhythms get tapped out, Rhymes get sung out Blurred out visions, eye twitches A sight looking out onto the decaying world That closes in around the primitive creature Stir crazed, Trapped and enveloped within its own self mutilation Its embodiment shivers, shattering dreams As it looks for the warmth of a blanketed soul To be swept away like yesterday's recycled tradegy Ripped torn apart otherwise dumped at its wayside Tortured by its own demise The jagged knife slices deep into its wrist To only impeach a livelihood Within its own words and steps Wondering where to go on forth From this plateau of mystifications Truth be told, truth be had Jack the pearl of the living psyche
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Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 11:21 AM UTC
Mind Corpse- a mythical edge
Chaos is my North Star My god Because it is only through chaos That we can burn down the underbrush and weeds Of old ideas Old systems Bureaucracies and impediments And plant Hyacinths of truth But then again Ask me about all this When I am 49
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
Eris
Oh, I guess I don't really know. The music. Texas amber. The voice of the moon. The barred door. The death of the dog. Ampersands. Woman underground. The silk woods. Women in purple houses. The underside of the whale, the sun. Have I got my shoes? Words with even emphasis. Speech impediments; the pen. Too many rooms. Any kind of jam, jelly. Vertex in space. Mint-flavoured Scientology advertisements: Early Easter Sunday. Strips of Velcro, ****** hair. Original manuscripts and forks. Tea-leaf autumns. Footfalls. Summon the poets. Start the El Camino. Strike my face with a match. Eat Wonderland.
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Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 8:18 AM UTC
12:34
For the big occasion She's lost a pound or two Last minute jitters playing out Something borrowed, something blue Posies for the bridesmaids Flower in her hair The thought of all those people Gets her feeling scared Roller waiting, protocol demands Be ten minutes late Line up for some memories By the old lych gate Holding back tears of joy She glides the aisle in a daze Nervous smiles exchanged As the ***** plays A moment's pause, new shoe shuffle Children struggle to behave Baby words da da da Echo down the nave No impediments are known As far as we can see No one shouts out from behind Yeah, it should have been me! In the nearby meadow The big marquee awaits Congregation filters back Through the old lych gate The groom pays sincerest thanks To everyone he should The best man airs embarrassments As we knew he would The band strikes up, as they dance The car is 'modified' Lipstick on the window Cans and balloons are tied It's not a worn out cliche As the night winds down they realise They really have just lived through The best day of their lives
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Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC
Wedding season
Down from the icy Sawtooth crags and through the winter-laden landscape, the wind eventually dips to the canyon and creek we loved so well as children. Continuing on, it threads through the hollows above the creek, sculpted even today by stooped cottonwood trees. Twisting above granite outcroppings and lava boulders, the wind courses through the giant arteries of this canyon, passing among quaking aspen, river willow, and gnarled cottonwood, shorn rudely by now of every dryly-veined leaf. At ancient volcanic escarpments the wind bears south, scraping hard along canyon walls. Upward it moves, out of the canyon, slowing and sallying about the hillocks, the gullies, the poplars until it finally comes to stir ever more gently, warmer even, my dear brother, around your gray marbled headstone. Primeval of days, this very same wind blows for eternity upon eternity, polishing and purifying even the roughest of the earth's elements and impediments. This said, at this hill's crest where you rest, there is no need of further refinement. Feel how the northern wind quiets for you, as if it knows over whose stone it passes. --
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Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 4:52 PM UTC
This Same Wind
Help me revive my feelings inside the urn, So that I can help you decide which bridge to cross and which to burn, I'll stand by you whenever, whatever, wherever, Let's overpower the impediments to our journey of forever. I will be willing to be your fire, let me light your way in your darkest nights, You will not sleep upset because of petty fights, I'll kiss and hug your fears goodbye, For I am fire, your guiding light, I love you without an alibi. I'll let you be my ice that calms the sparks and blazes inside of me, Devour me inch by inch, my wild fires are yours to be, Help me collide my body with yours, Let's tame the dragons with our joined force. You surely keep me from burning myself alive, With you by my side, everything I can survive, You're my ice, my consolation in disappointment, When I'm with you, every second is a magical moment.
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Neutralizers
You were the dream maker lacking impediments and I the wanting of nothing. Hesitant heart of mine leery of blissful nature of love thou bestowed upon me. Whilst thou who is handsome of face and perfection of body lay in slumber's state, took flight in night and prayed I would not waken the keeper of frightened heart. T'was you my gallant knight who stole  my heart when least I wanted or expected, t'was you who brought light to the darkness of dreams and made night terrors fade. You who never questioned where I'd been but sought to bring out the best in me. Life with you my kindred spirit was near perfection with never a dull moment.
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Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
To You My Kindred Spirit
I hate that my distraught thoughts leave me with a distraught mind In order for one man to see a dream, another must be blind That's how the world is One side drowning in desperation while the other floats in bliss Young children crying, parents dying All for the sense of pride that never existed Empty stomachs screaming in the code of negligence Impediments, pressure to decimate appendix South of life, dark side of the moon Where gunshots spark and revenge is always soon Minds leaning, heads swinging Solid hopes lost in fog The pen scratches from the position of the fortunate Im good. But I know someone else is hitting snooze because they fear of being awaken into reality These thoughts distraught my mind all the time Carved on an angel's wing, "It's the only thing keeping you human in a world full of roles"
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Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Benefit Of The Doubt
I'm kind of freaking out Arizona is sleeping with another man in a cigarette based bedroom there is still liquor in my pupil'd eyes the oh great AM insomniac lamp is dusty with someone else’s fingerprints on her ******* i reached for the moon and only felt snow the books are staring at me not saying a word my breath is thick i'm out of cigarettes I've got a few dollar bills I'll buy coffee and ink pens to keep me up i need to keep track of the phases of the moon its 56 degrees wearing only a sweater I'm freaking out Winter may never end I may not be able to leap from the ceiling i can't stand up or grow a beard i'm slightly insane or slightly sane i'm still figuring out how she walks and the road signs leading to mexico i must be crazy mimicking the speech impediments of the walls
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Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
I am insane. but probably not.
I shed tears of ink For the voiceless. I am the only link To the hopeless. For the poor I scribble In love and solidarity, to highlight the struggle and do an anthem of poverty. For the poor and marginalized, I speak power to the validity, I bring awareness for those victimized to quench the thirst of brutality. I can flow like a mighty fountain In the face of mistreatments. I crawl valleys and climb a mountain In times of impediments. I can leak useful information In the cause of injustice. I can write a memo for a demonstration On behalf of disgruntled masses. I am the defibrillator of broken hearts and the hope of the downtrodden. I can write love poems and draw arts Just to motivate and embolden. I have signed many peace treaties, and declarations of independence. I have been used to get properties And I have been used for vengeance. I am the weapon of choice for intellectuals and the shield of protection against violence. I am the stamp of instant rebuttals and the glitch of terrestrial intelligence. #IvanBrookspoetry ©  #Bassapoet 8-22-2019
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Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC
The Pen
Faded stains of spilled bourbon dot the weathered nightstand’s surface like stars speckle a clear midnight sky Each commemorates a prop of courage swigged to help forge another day Bras, slips, heels and flats pepper the soiled carpet reflections of the many nightly transgressions now impediments which fleck her soul Her frontal lobe harbors distortions from her past forgiven by those who know her forgotten by others Rain pelts her window rat-tat, rat-tats against the panes compulsively splatters the door flings open her mind to let today’s downpour splash away any trace of her anguish
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Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
Today’s Downpour
*Dispassionate heart Summoning the chill A skeleton of your former self Domiciled within These impediments Panic prone Arguing with fate Weary of your blue For how long will you Linger in the shadows*
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Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Your Blue