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"inconvenienced" poems
i hope you get into medical school so all i have to do is eat an apple everyday i hope you always have money to buy extra bread-sticks but never the self control stop eating them i hope your 15 seconds of fame falls on daylight savings i hope you never avoid movie or tv spoilers   i hope your children are loved and cared for but have their hearts broken by mine i hope you always anticipate a surprise birthday party i hope you always wake well rested 3 hours late for work i hope you dance in the metaphoric rain and catch metaphoric pneumonia i hope your next thanksgiving is spent in an airport i hope you are mildly inconvenienced every morning i hope all your book pages stick together i hope that you always will question if you left your oven on i hope your future roommates always use all the hot water i hope you always find the words to say but never the right time to say them i hope you never figure out how to pick a ripe avocado i hope all your dinners are directly impacted by the fickle nature of a toaster oven i hope your curiosity gets the better of you and you find out what cat food tastes like i hope your favorite band breaks up and you miss their kick *** reunion tour i hope you watch an unhealthy amount of daytime tv i hope you outlive me on the off chance that your paper boy will miraculously skip your house on the day my obituary is printed because nothing would make my ghost happier to know that you were forced to find out after  literally everyone else that i passed away in my sleep surrounded by people who loved me while you sat in your house old grey never thinking of me until you read some 50 words in a newspaper and even if its for a second i want you to wonder what kind of life i had because you will have had no part in it.
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Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
finding elegant ways to say go **** yourself
i hope you get into medical school so all i have to do is eat an apple everyday i hope you always have money to buy extra bread-sticks but never the self control stop eating them i hope your 15 seconds of fame falls on daylight savings i hope you never avoid movie or tv spoilers   i hope your children are loved and cared for but have their hearts broken by mine i hope you always anticipate a surprise birthday party i hope you always wake well rested 3 hours late for work i hope you dance in the metaphoric rain and catch metaphoric pneumonia i hope your next thanksgiving is spent in an airport i hope you are mildly inconvenienced every morning i hope all your book pages stick together i hope that you always will question if you left your oven on i hope your future roommates always use all the hot water i hope you always find the words to say but never the right time to say them i hope you never figure out how to pick a ripe avocado i hope all your dinners are directly impacted by the fickle nature of a toaster oven i hope your curiosity gets the better of you and you find out what cat food tastes like i hope your favorite band breaks up and you miss their kick *** reunion tour i hope you watch an unhealthy amount of daytime tv i hope you outlive me on the off chance that your paper boy will miraculously skip your house on the day my obituary is printed because nothing would make my ghost happier to know that you were forced to find out after  literally everyone else that i passed away in my sleep surrounded by people who loved me while you sat in your house old grey never thinking of me until you read some 50 words in a newspaper and even if its for a second i want you to wonder what kind of life i had because you will have had no part in it.
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34
Selfishness is the most indicative sign of immaturity. Like the way my little sister couldn't be bothered to regularly take our dog for walks because it mattered only how much it inconvenienced her. When your own feelings hold the up most importance and everyone else is placed on this planet to play a role in your existence kids are selfish some adults are immature Growing up has little to do with aging rather, realizing that every living creature holds value; Leaving the bulk of your ego behind.
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Grow Up
This fact seemed pretty **** self-evident from just about birth on. I seemed to inconvenience my family, especially my mother. So with my multitudes of half-sisters that refused to see me as anything more than just that, half, my mother, who was exhausted and inconvenienced at the sight of me, my will and my troubled path, I was a real life Cinderella, From The Start. Since I was just there, my mother figured she might as well use me, to do her bidding. I wouldn't be home for weeks and would arrive to an empty, messy house and a two-page list of things to do. Sound familiar? Just like a fairytale, huh? So I ask, where's my fairy godmother, and my glass slipper along with the Prince Charming, to make sure it fits? And my mouse helpers, to make cakes and dresses with me? Well I might not have a fairy godmother or a glass slipper, and I'm still missing the **** mice, but I just might have found, My Prince... <3
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Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
Cinderella
My Apologies, Sona by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My apologies, Sona, if traversing my verse's terrain in these torrential rains inconvenienced you. The monsoons are unseasonal here. My poems' pitfalls are sometimes sodden. Water often overflows these ditches. If you stumble and fall here, you run the risk of spraining an ankle. My apologies, however, if you were inconvenienced because my dismal verse lacks light, or because my threshold's stones interfered as you passed. I have often cracked toenails against them! As for the streetlamp at the intersection, it remains unlit ... endlessly indecisive. If you were inconvenienced, you have my heartfelt apologies! Come! by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Come, let us construct night over the monumental edifice of silence. Come, let us clothe ourselves in the winding sheets of darkness, where we'll ignite our bodies' incandescent wax. As the midnight dew dances its delicate ballet, let us not disclose the slightest whispers of our breath! Lost in night's mists, let us lie immersed in love's fragrance, absorbing the musky aromas of our bodies! Let us rise like rustling spirits ... Old Habits Die Hard by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The habit of breathing is an odd tradition. Why struggle so to keep on living? The body shudders, the eyes veil, yet the feet somehow keep moving. Why this journey, this restless, relentless flowing? For how many weeks, months, years, centuries shall we struggle to keep on living, keep on living? Habits are such strange things, such hard things to break! Inconclusive by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A body lies on a white bed— dead, abandoned, a forsaken corpse they forgot to bury. They concluded its death was not their concern. I hope they return and recognize me, then bury me so I can breathe. Keywords/Tags: Gulzar, Urdu, Hindi, Punjabi, Triveni, translation, life, death, love, ghazal, couplet, mrburdu
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May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 6:18 AM UTC
Gulzar translations
My Apologies, Sona by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My apologies, Sona, if traversing my verse's terrain in these torrential rains inconvenienced you. The monsoons are unseasonal here. My poems' pitfalls are sometimes sodden. Water often overflows these ditches. If you stumble and fall here, you run the risk of spraining an ankle. My apologies, however, if you were inconvenienced because my dismal verse lacks light, or because my threshold's stones interfered as you passed. I have often cracked toenails against them! As for the streetlamp at the intersection, it remains unlit ... endlessly indecisive. If you were inconvenienced, you have my heartfelt apologies! Come! by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Come, let us construct night over the monumental edifice of silence. Come, let us clothe ourselves in the winding sheets of darkness, where we'll ignite our bodies' incandescent wax. As the midnight dew dances its delicate ballet, let us not disclose the slightest whispers of our breath! Lost in night's mists, let us lie immersed in love's fragrance, absorbing the musky aromas of our bodies! Let us rise like rustling spirits ... Old Habits Die Hard by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The habit of breathing is an odd tradition. Why struggle so to keep on living? The body shudders, the eyes veil, yet the feet somehow keep moving. Why this journey, this restless, relentless flowing? For how many weeks, months, years, centuries shall we struggle to keep on living, keep on living? Habits are such strange things, such hard things to break! Inconclusive by Gulzar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A body lies on a white bed— dead, abandoned, a forsaken corpse they forgot to bury. They concluded its death was not their concern. I hope they return and recognize me, then bury me so I can breathe. Keywords/Tags: Gulzar, Urdu, Hindi, Punjabi, Triveni, translation, life, death, love, ghazal, couplet, mrburdu
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58
on this break i've designated one thing. to steer clear of you, to remove you from me: my soul, my essence. twenty one days is the amount of time needed to break a habit. this break is less than that sitting at a fourteen enough for me to sit the night before we return chewing my fingernails on if you'll be there in the morning if you'll be safe, healthy, alive. a lot can happen in fourteen days and it's awful for me to sit and think. so far i've done a very good job keeping you out of my thoughts. out of my conversations. the only time you've come up was that a few days into this break i saw you and blast it my whole body heat up like fire i felt my skin get clammy and hot i felt conflicting emotions. but one thing stood clear: i want to be done with you. now. i have no time for this beating around the bush ******** i'm sick an tired of crying over your bipolar personality being a friend one and a foe the next you even know that i feel for you. i've dreamt to hold your hand and lie beside you and watch the sky be born and grow old, fading into black to count the stars. i've wished for you on lost pennies, four 1's--two 11's on a clock, on stars, on birthday candles, crossed fingers, christmas lists. i've written countless poems expressing all my anguish and excitement. god you bring out the worst in me, but also the best. i'm so patient with you, but jealous towards others. i wish you knew what you did to me. i wish you knew what you did to me over the fact that i feel for you, over petty feelings that i'm ready to be over of, that i've wasted a year and a half on. twenty one days breaks a habit. fourteen isn't quite enough, but i'll take it. tonight is the first time i've actually thought about you. and this poem of promise speaking of freedom from feeling so awful all the time, sounds lovely. i'm sorry to have inconvenienced you for a year and a half over feelings i should of put out immediately. but fire spreads rapidly, my dear. and i have a low tolerance of heat. |m.s.
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
but fire spreads rapidly, my dear
on this break i've designated one thing. to steer clear of you, to remove you from me: my soul, my essence. twenty one days is the amount of time needed to break a habit. this break is less than that sitting at a fourteen enough for me to sit the night before we return chewing my fingernails on if you'll be there in the morning if you'll be safe, healthy, alive. a lot can happen in fourteen days and it's awful for me to sit and think. so far i've done a very good job keeping you out of my thoughts. out of my conversations. the only time you've come up was that a few days into this break i saw you and blast it my whole body heat up like fire i felt my skin get clammy and hot i felt conflicting emotions. but one thing stood clear: i want to be done with you. now. i have no time for this beating around the bush ******** i'm sick an tired of crying over your bipolar personality being a friend one and a foe the next you even know that i feel for you. i've dreamt to hold your hand and lie beside you and watch the sky be born and grow old, fading into black to count the stars. i've wished for you on lost pennies, four 1's--two 11's on a clock, on stars, on birthday candles, crossed fingers, christmas lists. i've written countless poems expressing all my anguish and excitement. god you bring out the worst in me, but also the best. i'm so patient with you, but jealous towards others. i wish you knew what you did to me. i wish you knew what you did to me over the fact that i feel for you, over petty feelings that i'm ready to be over of, that i've wasted a year and a half on. twenty one days breaks a habit. fourteen isn't quite enough, but i'll take it. tonight is the first time i've actually thought about you. and this poem of promise speaking of freedom from feeling so awful all the time, sounds lovely. i'm sorry to have inconvenienced you for a year and a half over feelings i should of put out immediately. but fire spreads rapidly, my dear. and i have a low tolerance of heat. |m.s.
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60
charcoal smudges and indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb tongue from clever whim from quipped retort designed to thwart off the largest offender up wind down wind I don't remember really the direction from whence one came nor name nor much anything other than charcoal smudges and indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb the smother hot tension seething wriggling writhing ringing in my head sirens throwing up red flags at catch phrases stated like razor blades repeated like mantras she said she said he said they them, my head they said I was lonely they said I was weak i think i thought I believed they loved me someone told me I wasn't worth a cent or sense or that I had no sense or that I was nonsense all of it I think I thought all of it I tense, became tense I tensed over overwhelming disapproval even at a distance for my depreciating assets the expense of my existence my penance for loving myself when it so inconvenienced those I was living around was letting myself think I was worthless forgetting how to count senseless centless arbitrary I have digressed I guess this is all jumbled concept an attempt to recreate the conception of my desecration of the crumbling of my foundation of the ashes left when they, when she,when all of them broke inside my head to watch the walls burn from the inside out ashes and charcoal smudges with indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb sin from sin self from worth you hurt me they hurt me I hurt myself because I believed you were telling me the truth. I became dark charcoal smudges and indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb kin from kin i'm gone now. think of me as charcoal.
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Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
charcoal
charcoal smudges and indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb tongue from clever whim from quipped retort designed to thwart off the largest offender up wind down wind I don't remember really the direction from whence one came nor name nor much anything other than charcoal smudges and indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb the smother hot tension seething wriggling writhing ringing in my head sirens throwing up red flags at catch phrases stated like razor blades repeated like mantras she said she said he said they them, my head they said I was lonely they said I was weak i think i thought I believed they loved me someone told me I wasn't worth a cent or sense or that I had no sense or that I was nonsense all of it I think I thought all of it I tense, became tense I tensed over overwhelming disapproval even at a distance for my depreciating assets the expense of my existence my penance for loving myself when it so inconvenienced those I was living around was letting myself think I was worthless forgetting how to count senseless centless arbitrary I have digressed I guess this is all jumbled concept an attempt to recreate the conception of my desecration of the crumbling of my foundation of the ashes left when they, when she,when all of them broke inside my head to watch the walls burn from the inside out ashes and charcoal smudges with indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb sin from sin self from worth you hurt me they hurt me I hurt myself because I believed you were telling me the truth. I became dark charcoal smudges and indistinct hazes of darkness phrases laced in harshness harnessed and armed with my conviction addiction to truth even when sharp enough to harm you disarm you dis-arm dismember sever limb from limb kin from kin i'm gone now. think of me as charcoal.
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109
To concretize my theorized love, I could play the accidental odds and strew slippery tongues of spotted petals onto thickly trafficked highways, or use the best predictive modelling to deduce when and where I can poke out a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting lips of any suitably compatible passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed on by. These well-oiled and crudely experimental methods do produce expected results, but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for satisfaction of appropriate reactions, so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back while I beam my bits of invitation through circuitous routes spatially arrayed along parallel paths where one might search with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness, and wait. I know the trials of these errant waves won't add up to a guarantee my burpy blips of a pulse can reach the receptively comprehending and responsive soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead to come stalking that appeals, and despite the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical anomaly with an alien sensibility has one match.
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May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 3:15 PM UTC
What love becomes, when you think too much
Narcoleptic storyteller living the dream; it's a ******* nightmare. Dark eclectic gory hell or giving up steam; watered luck is right there. Appear today; drawn tomorrow I could tell which words you borrow Inconvenienced shades of gray Eighty shades of sorrow weigh today, which way to say, I will stay here when you stray hear they may play fear, bray they pay dear Ever listen on to bold tomorrows.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
Bio
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry. It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU." The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you. They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel. You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,                                               "All about YOU!" copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
It's all about YOU!
Traffic jam on the highway cars stopped one hundred percent gridlock heat waves off the asphalt people rushing to see relatives holiday weekend; a few hours till they see them two hundred engines humming flies buzzing five hundred people waiting wondering what they're waiting for waiting for their wheels to turn waiting for someone they've never seen before their lives inconvenienced by a traffic jam ******** up their holiday plans when their cars finally move and they see what made them stop "oh dear, look at all those cops" and an overturned tin can of a car telling their kids to look elsewhere shielding their eyes from the array of a wrecked life of a blue tarp on the highway Their lives inconvenienced by a traffic jam ******** up their holiday plans but who is beneath the blue tarp on the ground? nobody even thinks about what could be found and what a disgrace to simply be an inconvenience lying in the street because humans are heartless whether they are young or old when their lives are inconvenienced by a little girl's body gone cold and for these reasons i pray to never, ever say, "i wish we could hurry through this traffic because it's ******** up my holiday."
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Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Traffic Jam
Four feet by six feet, good black soil in a good back garden. I stand, transfixed. When I was six, this plot was purgatory. It could swallow a sunny afternoon without mercy. It stretched, relentless, an Amazon of weeds with no beginning and no end and I would spend hour after miserable hour merely looking at the horror ahead. Punctuated here and there with a desultory dig, a scrape at the surface, dock or dandelion briefly inconvenienced as the whole, howling, heaving hoard of grinning, gobbling green grasped me, held me in sticky-willie stasis, a chickweed choke-hold between buttercup buttresses. Today it's tiny. I could sweep it clean with three good strokes of the *** So I stand, at once amused and wistful lamenting not the verdant self-pity but wishing I was still so easily convinced of eternity.
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
Plot
It's feeding time. Put your favorite food on the stove, But don't you stand beside and stir while there's lots left to do: Like drying your eyes with the light of meaningless information Like running laps between choices to make, never quite reaching any Like watching herds of dust cats growing in every corner Like ignoring texts Like drifting away Like feeling dead             or fearing you will be             or wishing you were Like covering your skin's imperfections with pure red Like decorating walls with scratches for every time you've ever:             inconvenienced someone slightly             thought ill of anyone or anything             made others worry             failed to take care of yourself             burned your food Like... Ding! Now that you've taken your time with these routine steps, your meal should be ready. You've done well. The charred bits serve as perfect fuel to the fire that consumes you. The resulting smoke signals a message: "You were right, you truly are worthless. Here's what's left, only a few bites of what's unburnt. You deserve nothing more"
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Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
ENJOY YOUR MEAL!
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred recently in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece. There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry. It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU." The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you. They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel. You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,                                               "All about YOU!" copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
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Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
It's all about YOU!(Repost)
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred recently in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece. There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry. It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU." The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you. They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel. You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,                                               "All about YOU!" copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
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8
There is nothing convenient about answering a call to be flooded with a sea of tears & thoughts at four in the morning when you need to be up at seven or a collection of band tees cluttering your closet space. There is nothing convenient about driving 100 miles an hour down the freeway in the middle of a shift or missing a lighter every time you go to smoke. There is nothing convenient about standing in the rain until a fight is resolved or finding melted guitar picks all over your laundry. A love that exists according to convenience is not a love at all You'll know the first time you decide to kiss his scars instead of your own because all of a sudden the pain radiating from his eyes hurts worse than the pain growing from your core. You'll know the first time you find yourself spending countless hours caring for his friends because all of a sudden everyone who matters to him matters to you. You'll know the first time you decide that the sound of his voice & the scent of his skin are worth being inconvenienced for the rest of your life because the lack of either feel like the end of the world.
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Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
Love Comes in Unfair Weather
The inconvenienced patron always arrived late.  They always had a glass to fill, and not a minute to wait.  Their emotions were like landmines, and their problems all your own.  The inconvenienced patron was always picking a bone.  They tell you how they were mistreated, how others are so unkind.  Then rant and rave about how how if they’d had just been patient with them everything would be fine.  The inconvenienced patron never seemed to give a second glance  To the glazed over patrons not holding their breath  For an ounce of positivity nor some selfless grace. No.  The inconvenienced patron made them blue in the face.
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Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 7:10 PM UTC
The Inconvenienced Patron
Couldn’t be bothered to remove your knee from a man’s neck. Couldn’t be bothered to protect the huddled masses of poor, when you and your buddies can make more from building machines and waging wars. Couldn’t be bothered to tell our youth the deep and painful truth about our history. Couldn’t be bothered until you were inconvenienced; Until your bosses see this and you get in trouble for vile rants. Couldn’t be bothered to be a decent human being, and you wonder why people cry, let it burn.
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Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 11:29 AM UTC
Untitled 473
oh will the feeling of being a burden ever go away? when someone is even slightly inconvenienced and it has just a little to do with me, I feel I must apologize profusely and proclaim how annoying I am, when in fact, that’s exactly what’s making me annoying I am a burden, even to myself
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May 17, 2024
May 17, 2024 at 2:16 PM UTC
an inconvenience
It would have been better if you had left me for dead in the woods, no sun, no air, no water, no chance of survival, and yet you choose to let me live like this, in a state of madness that I can't control. I should have seen it coming from the start Our paths were destined to part, yet I was a fool and believed the smile you used to enchant me with. I should've known it was all a cruel lie it was in front of me the whole time, all those memories that I cherished. What goes up must come down. Well, that explains a lot, considering that many a few times I thought we were both on cloud nine. We fell like a damaged airplane, crashing and burning. You told me you knew you would make a mistake. I'd be surprised if you haven't already made it. I went through hell and high water for you, yet you would now be inconvenienced to give me the time of day. All our friends were convinced we would live in bliss; be ninety years old sipping lemonade and watching our grandchildren running on our lawn. I thought they were right. And yet, I see your face wherever I go. Every distraction somehow fails. Strangely though, the thing I am most angry about... is the fact that you never came after me. I miss the beating of your heart next to mine. I miss dancing with you in the moonlight. I miss you.
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Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC
I Miss You
I stand in the field, like an old man who remembers his childhood fondly, Squinting against the sun, breathing solemnly as bees buzz around me, inconvenienced at my presence. Hunching my shoulders against the heat, yes the heat, I look down on the ground, seeing the bike left here so many years ago. Like my love for you, I abandoned. Left on the ground, overgrown and eroded away. How I loved to whisk away on this two wheeled thing... how I loved carrying you through the threshold and into the bedroom. You were my everything, at one point. My rock and shelter, my love, my life. But somehow we simply fell out of love, stagnated, and withered away, unnoticed to our numbed sensitivity to each other. Cast to the ground and left there, like my bike I stand and stare at right now... They say you can never forget how to ride a bicycle. I know I won't forget you, my love.
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
A Bicycle and a Broke Heart
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece. Richard Riddle 11-06-2015 There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry. It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU." The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you. They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel. You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,                                               "All about YOU!" copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
0
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
It's all about YOU!(Repost)
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece. Richard Riddle 11-06-2015 There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry. It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU." The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you. They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel. You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,                                               "All about YOU!" copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
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9
glued to the seat by mercurial dispositions, forced conformist with numb hands. and in order; to stop giving a **** in order; to put things in order. through force from denial we walk among death, perusing theories taken from whence time hath not the slightest chance to have kept. and left the living corpse seated, inconvenienced, fleeting within thoughts to stay away.
0
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
there is a dead thing on my couch
Lisa and I got our emails the same day. She read hers first. She made a small sighing sound, the faintest of protests. Then broke the news, with a scowl, “They’re moving classes online “temporarily.” I don’t want to talk about Corona any more - I want to scream about it. Maybe we’ll graduate, in three years, without knowing what most of our classmates look like - ​​antithetical to university “networking”. I’m lucky, I know - I’m only inconvenienced. I roam, safely, indoors, impatiently untouched by adult, real world concerns, like jobs and money. So I’ll keep my head up and smile like those glamorous, happy girls in ****** commercials.
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Jan 4, 2022
Jan 4, 2022 at 8:20 AM UTC
my my my my corona..
i'd like to say i'm sorry to everyone i've inconvenienced with my identity. i'm sorry that it's such a struggle for you to say "he" i'm sorry i'm not a dog so you can actually feel guilty about misgendering me. i didn't know that who i am is such a problem that i cause you so much trouble and i should take responsibility. it's okay to pause and correct yourself and maybe talk to me afterwards but when you blow it up and complain you make me want to scream. for some reason you treat pets better and i understand, i know but i deserve a little more respect than something owned. i'm sorry i inconvenience you with the way i dress that i don't look enough like a boy for you to even try i'm sorry that i don't wear basketball shorts and nike shirts to convince you i have a ***** but guess what? i dont. i'm a boy who wears pink with "female parts" because you are too scared to say ****** do you ask random people to pull down their pants so you can validate them? if we stick to gender norms would you tell a girl to take her pants off because they're not "ladylike"? meanwhile you tell boys that it's okay to take girls' clothes off without asking. you say you acknowledge my identity yet you still tell me to take off my clothing because it's too "girly". and when i say "what's wrong with that?" you spit back "nothing, then why aren't you a girl?" I don't need to be a girl to respect a human being but that's how it generally is. i'm 15 and i know more than most 60-year-olds we should know better by now to at least treat people like people because i am not a pet i do not have a leash you cannot dress me or neuter me i can have whatever genitals i want because you don't own me. i am not a slave you had centuries ago and still make jokes about i shouldn't have to apologize for that. i'm not a wound you can heal you can't just apply burn cream and a band-aid and forget about me. don't treat me like a broken bone like i need a splint though i'm not okay on my own, i don't need you to tell me who i should be.
0
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
silvadene
i'd like to say i'm sorry to everyone i've inconvenienced with my identity. i'm sorry that it's such a struggle for you to say "he" i'm sorry i'm not a dog so you can actually feel guilty about misgendering me. i didn't know that who i am is such a problem that i cause you so much trouble and i should take responsibility. it's okay to pause and correct yourself and maybe talk to me afterwards but when you blow it up and complain you make me want to scream. for some reason you treat pets better and i understand, i know but i deserve a little more respect than something owned. i'm sorry i inconvenience you with the way i dress that i don't look enough like a boy for you to even try i'm sorry that i don't wear basketball shorts and nike shirts to convince you i have a ***** but guess what? i dont. i'm a boy who wears pink with "female parts" because you are too scared to say ****** do you ask random people to pull down their pants so you can validate them? if we stick to gender norms would you tell a girl to take her pants off because they're not "ladylike"? meanwhile you tell boys that it's okay to take girls' clothes off without asking. you say you acknowledge my identity yet you still tell me to take off my clothing because it's too "girly". and when i say "what's wrong with that?" you spit back "nothing, then why aren't you a girl?" I don't need to be a girl to respect a human being but that's how it generally is. i'm 15 and i know more than most 60-year-olds we should know better by now to at least treat people like people because i am not a pet i do not have a leash you cannot dress me or neuter me i can have whatever genitals i want because you don't own me. i am not a slave you had centuries ago and still make jokes about i shouldn't have to apologize for that. i'm not a wound you can heal you can't just apply burn cream and a band-aid and forget about me. don't treat me like a broken bone like i need a splint though i'm not okay on my own, i don't need you to tell me who i should be.
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52
I blame you Even though you're not here I can't think Or focus Or anything And I blame you I'm not mad Just slightly inconvenienced Because I'm trying to do my work But you're invading my mind I want to cuddle And kiss you And hug you And tell you 'I love you' But I can't Because you're not here Quite frankly I don't understand How you're such a distraction When you're not even around You're a simple distraction That drives me insane Bit by bit I'm sitting here Trying to do school work Even though my tummy Is dancing with a million butterflies And my train of thought has derailed I never thought this would happen Not again But there you are And here I am Completely intertwined You have such an effect on me And I don't think you even understand How much of a distraction you really are I wonder Am I a simple distraction To you?
0
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
Simple Distraction