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"indulges" poems
The Eid is bustling with joy come let’s give it a try f     l     y      away! To the deathless groovy paradise floating high on the elixir flow: The triumphant joyous wave streamed up from the secret bottom line!   Up above the lapis lazuli sky. A pair of butterfly basks in the sunlight quietly indulges in style. It goes on in slow motion illuminating the night a firefly perches on a slice of the Moon flanked by the moonlight. But you and me we will rhyme and chant in our lovely mother tongue. In the same original lingua like ‘Adam speaks up and all angels listen in paradise’. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! On the wings of the moonlight we will s   a     i       l        away! Ambling by the Moon we'll **** through the starry nooks. Eyes open and gently perched atop a star for a moment or two. We will see miles of galaxies over the moonlit lakes of the blue playing cool ravishing lutes! The spring night is in bloom and the cute sleeping beauty wakes up playing the flute! Musical half lights filling the sky. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! We’ll drink sharaban tahura the holy wine of paradise and once for all we will k i   s     s the death goodbye! Our story will fill the divine soil the heaven's flora and fauna each and everyone will shine on our page no houri will ever say finito singing our tale! As Adam did it first stunned the angels telling the nature of all things in paradise. We will do that once more without a smirk this time we will see the loving Creator!
0
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
Eid Mubarak - Lets Fly Paradise
The Eid is bustling with joy come let’s give it a try f     l     y      away! To the deathless groovy paradise floating high on the elixir flow: The triumphant joyous wave streamed up from the secret bottom line!   Up above the lapis lazuli sky. A pair of butterfly basks in the sunlight quietly indulges in style. It goes on in slow motion illuminating the night a firefly perches on a slice of the Moon flanked by the moonlight. But you and me we will rhyme and chant in our lovely mother tongue. In the same original lingua like ‘Adam speaks up and all angels listen in paradise’. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! On the wings of the moonlight we will s   a     i       l        away! Ambling by the Moon we'll **** through the starry nooks. Eyes open and gently perched atop a star for a moment or two. We will see miles of galaxies over the moonlit lakes of the blue playing cool ravishing lutes! The spring night is in bloom and the cute sleeping beauty wakes up playing the flute! Musical half lights filling the sky. Come let’s give it a try f   l     y      away! We’ll drink sharaban tahura the holy wine of paradise and once for all we will k i   s     s the death goodbye! Our story will fill the divine soil the heaven's flora and fauna each and everyone will shine on our page no houri will ever say finito singing our tale! As Adam did it first stunned the angels telling the nature of all things in paradise. We will do that once more without a smirk this time we will see the loving Creator!
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67
Visions of vengeance on my mind Awoke a past's persuasive ghost Like a parasite disposes it's host I left her loving soul behind Hearing this demon's wicked rants My resistance caved to thoughts provoked Her love inside me I have choked With these bare trembling hands My restless spirit keen to elope Now indulges in all luscious leisure Yet looking for a hidden treasure With a face not showing idle hope
0
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
A past's persuasive ghost
Tunneling thoughts like rain Craning through light clouds Unsuspecting victims. The fear The tears The temper tantrums; A kind of rebuttal That won't let our feet find land We adjourned to rehearse, but our efforts were null and void Only to appease with flames that licked our shriveled bodies D r i p p i n g Kerosene Tainted like ink Spilled on Reams of paper ruined like Christmas A house warmed by Open flames fallen candles Adorning A naked kitchen My limp body, Splayed beneath the oven As darkness indulges, It consumes The smoke, Fills Each crevice In your mind Can you ever fight it Burn your way back To blissful ignorance.
0
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 1:59 PM UTC
Just another night
every night before i sleep, without fail, romance fills my mind how hopeless, how naive, however you wish to call me but i think it's time to finally pick the red glass shards off the dark wooden shelf that is so full of dust, i hardly recognize it i cradle the glass in my hands withstanding the sharp red melting her into sweet honey and knowing the broken glass, is nothing but temporary i am not left without impurities with sharp edges and deformities but i am whole again and i will not let anyone drop it again because i will wait for an eternity to find someone who puts the glass up against the sunlight and admires its beauty i will find a love like mine someone who indulges in flowers and dream like christmas dates and holding my small hands there is no doubt about it i am a realistic romantic and i like you deserve to be loved, endlessly so
0
Oct 6, 2023
Oct 6, 2023 at 5:40 PM UTC
i deserve to be loved
*** for me!* I shout She flashes her pearly whites the brightest smile I've ever seen (She likes it when I talk ***** gets wet off it     ...     soaking                                                the streets                                       flooded in every nook rivers gorging car tires      thunderstorms are our communion *** for me!* I shout and She moans like a god   ...   boisterous my legs pump faster now Her cries are electric    I can't help but feel the jolt louder baby She indulges and I come                     full stop at the corner of Broadway & Covert one day...               She will tire of my obscenities   all my **** you's~ in a final flash She will smite me and when I reach home   He will be at the gate crooked finger a compass pointing to hell *** for me* I will cry reverent in nostalgia I will have played the game past the final quarter still taunting His existence but I'll smile content in knowing that every action has a consequence content in knowing   that I learned that pre-god    pre-conservation of energy content in knowing     that life taught me to run in thunderstorms and the first time I shouted back I felt enough energy to risk hell for it
0
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
*** For Me
An empty pub is the worst place to be, In a city, Where even gods stay a bit longer every year, Perhaps persuaded by the halcyon laughter of that half dressed street urchin, Who has learnt to celebrate her comical existence, In the pregnant underbelly of a false saint, Who refuses to give birth to anything but naked poverty. Small wonder the gods have never chosen to intervene in the city of joy, After all its the fault of these urchins who refuse to abandon their filthy smiles, And have the audacity to peak through the walls that we annually paint, With the victorious colours of human values. But why do they peek, Isn't their world filled with the unmatched profoundness of black and white photography? Isn't their world the home to poetic muses and romantic poverty ? Indeed, why do they peek ? Before the label on the bottle in front of me, Makes you judge the potency of what I utter, Let me tell you why. For them our world is a constant theatrical which has run different shows annually, Yet the only complaint they have perhaps is that the genre of the shows, Have somehow never changed. Its always been the darkest of satires, Like the running satire in which half our society, Sitting safe within the beautiful walls , We built around our indomitable prosperity and culture , Indulges, In the hysterical condemnation of a man, Who wants to build a beautiful wall on a different continent . To protect the same You know, I don't speak urchin-tongue, But I have always had the gift to read feelings I shouldn’t, And something tells me the urchins have titled this theatrical, “Moral ************ But that’s not all, An empty pub is the worst place to be in a city which refuses to let you give up hope, And gently reminds you with every drink That even when the rest of the world is out there dancing, To the drum beats of happy endings and ephemeral farewells, There’s one place that will never close its doors on you. The only thing is. The place isn’t the home you never ended up building with her, It’s just an empty pub. And that is why an empty pub is the worst place to be.
0
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
Before The Bartender's Last Call
An empty pub is the worst place to be, In a city, Where even gods stay a bit longer every year, Perhaps persuaded by the halcyon laughter of that half dressed street urchin, Who has learnt to celebrate her comical existence, In the pregnant underbelly of a false saint, Who refuses to give birth to anything but naked poverty. Small wonder the gods have never chosen to intervene in the city of joy, After all its the fault of these urchins who refuse to abandon their filthy smiles, And have the audacity to peak through the walls that we annually paint, With the victorious colours of human values. But why do they peek, Isn't their world filled with the unmatched profoundness of black and white photography? Isn't their world the home to poetic muses and romantic poverty ? Indeed, why do they peek ? Before the label on the bottle in front of me, Makes you judge the potency of what I utter, Let me tell you why. For them our world is a constant theatrical which has run different shows annually, Yet the only complaint they have perhaps is that the genre of the shows, Have somehow never changed. Its always been the darkest of satires, Like the running satire in which half our society, Sitting safe within the beautiful walls , We built around our indomitable prosperity and culture , Indulges, In the hysterical condemnation of a man, Who wants to build a beautiful wall on a different continent . To protect the same You know, I don't speak urchin-tongue, But I have always had the gift to read feelings I shouldn’t, And something tells me the urchins have titled this theatrical, “Moral ************ But that’s not all, An empty pub is the worst place to be in a city which refuses to let you give up hope, And gently reminds you with every drink That even when the rest of the world is out there dancing, To the drum beats of happy endings and ephemeral farewells, There’s one place that will never close its doors on you. The only thing is. The place isn’t the home you never ended up building with her, It’s just an empty pub. And that is why an empty pub is the worst place to be.
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42
My mind feels As though it Flickers. “Tick, Tic, Ti, T.” To experience ADD is to have your brain Switch between Six different channels, Six different themes. It will always feel like you are Rocketing between things. In the span of a second, Your mind will explore the dying children In Mozambique. In the next ponder, Your mind indulges in the roleplay of Naruto and the pink-haired chick. I have no power over Who dances in my play. I know they bring flames, But I’m uncertain as to Who is managing the stage. I am the director of this show, yet I was banned to say. The show has no ending, no beginning, My life didn't come with instructions. So I ****** it up and just lived with it. In the moments that I daydream, I always force myself to be in the present. In fear that the world will think I'm too dumb or complacent. But that's just how my brain works. Ten seconds gone, I am travelling across the pool. A red bruise on my lips and A crack on my tooth. I ask myself again, Then and there, How and when Did I get this bruise? It can be such a disadvantage, It can be such a gift. To be wholesome in a way, But to also lack the basics. I feel like I’m constantly living between The two binary opposites. As regulating emotions can become a huge problem I  may have creativity and the sway, But I'm also managing my impulsivity every day. Do you know Why I zone out And lose focus? My world inside Can just be too chaotic. But trust that I'm working on it. Regardless, I know this faucet will flow seamlessly And being more aware of this condition Will only help me manage it. So what have I to lose, In the midst of this plight? I’ve been writing a lot of poetry, Haven’t I? AOA
0
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
My Traveling Mind
My mind feels As though it Flickers. “Tick, Tic, Ti, T.” To experience ADD is to have your brain Switch between Six different channels, Six different themes. It will always feel like you are Rocketing between things. In the span of a second, Your mind will explore the dying children In Mozambique. In the next ponder, Your mind indulges in the roleplay of Naruto and the pink-haired chick. I have no power over Who dances in my play. I know they bring flames, But I’m uncertain as to Who is managing the stage. I am the director of this show, yet I was banned to say. The show has no ending, no beginning, My life didn't come with instructions. So I ****** it up and just lived with it. In the moments that I daydream, I always force myself to be in the present. In fear that the world will think I'm too dumb or complacent. But that's just how my brain works. Ten seconds gone, I am travelling across the pool. A red bruise on my lips and A crack on my tooth. I ask myself again, Then and there, How and when Did I get this bruise? It can be such a disadvantage, It can be such a gift. To be wholesome in a way, But to also lack the basics. I feel like I’m constantly living between The two binary opposites. As regulating emotions can become a huge problem I  may have creativity and the sway, But I'm also managing my impulsivity every day. Do you know Why I zone out And lose focus? My world inside Can just be too chaotic. But trust that I'm working on it. Regardless, I know this faucet will flow seamlessly And being more aware of this condition Will only help me manage it. So what have I to lose, In the midst of this plight? I’ve been writing a lot of poetry, Haven’t I? AOA
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68
she worries the hem of her white cotton dress in her delicate hand while her other hand nestled softly in mine she looks up to my eyes and smiles as she gathers me up to the hay in the barnyard where she lay with me and indulges me of her delights we lay in the cool air and she is curled up in my arms singing to me softly the summer birds dance in the open sky the summer afternoon sun glows golden in her eyes she looks up into my eyes and without a word need to be said and in my heart the sunlight is devoted to her face a worshipper of the only real beauty in the world it caresses her delicate features and paints my perception of her she is a masterpiece of love paints my vision of her her vibrant laughter and smiles run round in my heart making themselves a home in my heart and making my heart feel at home she worries the hem of her white cotton dress i lean in and kiss her lips with the heartfelt adoration of every ounce of my soul
0
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
with the heartfelt adoration
Lost and confused, he found a path. He followed it like the yellow brick road Looking to find the wizard of Oz For his one and only wish - HAPPINESS. Yet, the yellow brick road he followed Only led him to a path of self-destruction; Because along the way he discovered distractions To numb the pain until he found the wizard. Until he found happiness. He found comfort in those distractions Which quickly turned into addictions. Now he is stuck , In the middle of that yellow brick road . Because the distractions he discovered along the way Were destroying his soul; one bottle of ***** And bag of **** at a time. A part of him has given up on finding the wizard. So he indulges in his own self-destruction; stuck on a path that was meant to save him. To save him from himself.
0
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Self-destruction
Quest along the beaten path - Rite of Passage; Cheerfully pay toll - Your Fair Share of sacrifice. In return, Earn Falsehoods, hollow&unholy; Silhouettes of acceptance Virtual applause Manufactured smiles, Which guide like tracks, Revealing shortcuts to sunlight Passing predators' dens ... Lustful leeches Latch on with thirst, Flesh swells Veins burst- A familiar love ... Still travelling In figure 8s - Hypnotic lemniscates, An infinite conflict- Self-reliant cannibal Indulges in Structured insanity.
0
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Untitled
_A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_ .... A small little child with curly brown hair Chubby, pink cheeks with skin so fair Eats, enjoys, indulges and more Everyone says "she's full for sure" _A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_ .... A sweet little girl, with long pigtails Sees all the girls, and wonders why she fails They all have friends, but why doesn't she How come they're all so happy _A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_ .... A shy little girl, afraid to face her school Everyone laughs, she's fat and 'uncool' Sitting alone each and every day Wondering why they treat her this way _A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_ .... A mature little girl, much for her age Looks at the number on the scale enraged Hating herself and what she's become Wishing to see all her bones such as some _A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_ .... A fat little girl, no food on her plate Determined as hell to lose all this weight Her friends and her family, see her each day More and more frail, withering away _A_ _sick_ _little_ _girl_ .... A skeleton of a girl, who once was happy and bright Her eyes now dark and hollowed at night Clinging to life with her small, bony hands Regretting all childhood reprimands _A_ _dead_ _little_ _girl_ .... A dead little girl, now merely a corpse Leaving everyone behind feeling remorse A closed casket service, nothing left to show Wants to be be remembered as we all know
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Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
Lovely Bones
nefarious nested newfound minds gather in dim-lit bedroom shining with love. taking seconds from an extended time frame. what eludes to harm done comes from adultration of a vision - friendship. it's been said, no loyalty with dope fiend drugdrugsdrug addicts. when under the greensmoke light of a cracked window and wheezing-- OH the wheezing-- of youth taking extra time to become tomorrow's electronic future. it's gonna be different than yester-year, dear. 20% of our feeble country engages indulges in this ancient sacredity &as; for you, my dear ones, sitting in the dark, jeopardy, saw IV, daft's harderbetterfasterstronger --"i've never seen so many colours!" my heart calls as yours does, for a future we're waking up to. we're not violent vicious vile backstabbing cold-mongers. if anything, laughing at them. quoting movies, queueing memories. preparing for world dissolution. i hate the bane too, kids, but we know who we are.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:05 AM UTC
smokedown
When questioned what was nature, i laughingly said s&m; ravishing red roses thorns were meant for torture but some indulge in them Misunderstood poison ivy is for her dark and seductive touch leaving her victims perturbed with the faintest brush shunned by the hollies for her dark and twisted roots she finds solace in clandestiny where she indulges in sinful truths But if the darker side of nature is perceived as such a sin and on one hot july night the forest shall ignite i’ll let the fickle flames fade into me because the smell of burning saffron can be quite alright Nature is a playground and we dabble in different mounds often forgetting the vines that are to hold us down to submit or not to submit let ivy tell you for one false move the vines will bruise you
0
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
sinful nature
Invite me to a masquerade held in a large hall Most guests would be in suits, those you can see Almost all are dark males, all quite are tall All can't dance , because all of them are me Few in this hall are some of my peers One of me in a mask basks in their wonder To them this mask is wise,and one without fear The face behind though is foolish a coward and a blunder Few in this hall are some of my enemies One of me in a mask delights in their distaste To them this mask promises violence with energy Behind is the face of exhaustion and no anger to trace Few in this hall are some of my mentors One of me in a mask indulges in their praise To them this mask is one of potential and future Beneath lies the face marred by failure and laze Few in this hall are some past lovers One of me in a mask savors their longing To them this mask is a story with a knight and a tower But beneath Is the face of a lier gifted with talking Few in this hall are my fellow Christians One of me in a mask flaunts his humility To them this mask is of true religious commissions The face behind long faced spiritual sterility The last in this hall are my family I face them with half a mask of strength To them the strong half mask, and the true half face of apathy The half mask hides a face exhausted with it's life's long length
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Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 3:00 PM UTC
Masks and faces
I shared with him my plot to save our skinz "I think I em beginning to understand myself" i say to him He gives me a look of "here dis ***** go again" he indulges me I go on and tell him "What if I destroyed the white race by having *** with every white man" "A way to reclaim my masculinity is to steal it back from the ones who stole me" My ***** hang low when I remember that I am surviving as a ***** with no testosterone.
0
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 1:00 AM UTC
My ***** is on the walls of the Guggenheim.
It's 4:43 in the AM - Not in the afternoon where it's supposed to be But dark instead - Smoking a cigarette outside - In the humid purple night - Where lightning bugs are flying Under sharp soft bursts of wind - Pleasant in this misty heat - You are nocturnal - More comfortable in the dark - Where thoughts flow more freely With the freedom of shadows - Hiding in the darkness - Arousing passions - Seducing lusts - Running much faster from death's final dust - Where flaming elixirs flow like silken rain Under galaxies of stars and various planets - Perfumes of the dark matter erupt in your mind - Laying in tall grass, outstretched arms - Legs curled up - In awe of such massive wonder and chaos That indulges my speck of existence - This is when you understand the notion of 'Gods' - And how truly privileged it is to live a life - Where dreams will come, asleep or awake - A nocturnal life is the life I live.
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May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 6:29 AM UTC
Nocturnal
The poetic apprentice constantly ponders and plans. He dreams up wondrous writings that through critisms can stand. He imagines mystical miracles he elaborates with his hand Unending possibilities his vast Mind demands He scoures the depths and peruses vast heights. He indulges crisp, cool mornings and envelops the nights. He listens for lyrical lullabies and observes majestical sights. He journeys throughout space as he embarks on jaw-dropping flights. The poetic apprentice searches The depths of his heart He dissects it and reads it And tears it apart. Then divulges it's secrets And crafts them into his art He wishes so dearly that his Work becomes no disaster He keeps his senses in tune In hopes he'll one day be a master As more work pours out the Pressure grows faster and faster But he'll slow down and humble himself As his work evolves and becomes vaster Now the poetic apprentice sighs A great sigh of relief He wipes off his brow As he mumbles "good grief!" His work is now over his work is complete. He knows they will like it. Its his faith, his belief The poetic poet now bows To you, his work is bequeathed
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Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
The Poetic Apprentice
She split minds apart when she walks into the room, the radiance from the scarlet fabric on her honey milk skin polarizes the world to a central view. Her competitors already know the battle is lost, because every man floats away like a helium filled balloon Her magic works to the max, when she waltz across the dance floor like a beautiful witch on a Sunday afternoon. they wonder the name of the architect responsible for her wicked curves, a unique type of geography, surely she must be new. They think to themselves. She's probably with a politician, maybe a star who's gone home too soon. I am not worthy, I stink of my experience with the last two. As they waste golden moments caving into self doubts and relationship blues, From the shadows, He steps up to stage to play the game of who's who. He build's her confidence with an honest joke or two, she buys into his bold point of view. He excuses himself; gives her time to process his residue. He makes his return to harvest the seed they grew, She indulges, he is a perfect distraction from her new fool. He steals her away for a chat by the pool. He whisper's some words in her ears, and she feathers herself to recapture her hue. He tells her "I have a drink that will make your lips think its hosting a party crew." He makes a gamble like romeo wrote the rules. With eyes locked, he shows her what his lips can do The heats building up, she's waiting on him to put on the other glass shoe. She wonders how to make the night fair and true. "Let's go" words, he summarizes in two. Envy and admiration storms up the crowd, only if they knew. Later they dig deeper searching for clues. He tells them and they look confused. Its not about her or you. Its about building a bridge that brings together two.
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Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
The Bridge
She split minds apart when she walks into the room, the radiance from the scarlet fabric on her honey milk skin polarizes the world to a central view. Her competitors already know the battle is lost, because every man floats away like a helium filled balloon Her magic works to the max, when she waltz across the dance floor like a beautiful witch on a Sunday afternoon. they wonder the name of the architect responsible for her wicked curves, a unique type of geography, surely she must be new. They think to themselves. She's probably with a politician, maybe a star who's gone home too soon. I am not worthy, I stink of my experience with the last two. As they waste golden moments caving into self doubts and relationship blues, From the shadows, He steps up to stage to play the game of who's who. He build's her confidence with an honest joke or two, she buys into his bold point of view. He excuses himself; gives her time to process his residue. He makes his return to harvest the seed they grew, She indulges, he is a perfect distraction from her new fool. He steals her away for a chat by the pool. He whisper's some words in her ears, and she feathers herself to recapture her hue. He tells her "I have a drink that will make your lips think its hosting a party crew." He makes a gamble like romeo wrote the rules. With eyes locked, he shows her what his lips can do The heats building up, she's waiting on him to put on the other glass shoe. She wonders how to make the night fair and true. "Let's go" words, he summarizes in two. Envy and admiration storms up the crowd, only if they knew. Later they dig deeper searching for clues. He tells them and they look confused. Its not about her or you. Its about building a bridge that brings together two.
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27
Everyone has a story: An accomplished dream, A shattered dream, A dream in the works! Everyone has a story: A battle won, A battle lost, A battle that is unfolding! Everyone has a story: An old wound, A bleeding wound, A scar that is healing! Everyone has a story: Life indulges you with its joys, Coddles you with security, Stretches you thin with its sorrows! Everyone has a story, yet it is up to You to ascend to victory in your fight against agonies, So you can write the last chapter of your story! Hussein Dekmak
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Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Everyone Has a Story
Life is truly a potpourri a mix of exciting, scary, inspiring, painful, joyful, heartbreaking, disappointing, at times, exhausting these days, there is no longer fear i shall not fight it, if i fall right now for, i am the bent amongst the young, the straight and tireless, i always wonder why, when a strong wind blows, i still endure, still am standing...when turning around requires much effort. But, I can't hide how this world surrounding me provides me with such a lift it opens my half-closed view yes, there are the dying parts, corners but what i see mostly are blooms of vibrant yellows, greens, pinks, peaches, so mellow lively colors all around me. even the naked tree, towers over me, and in its own way indulges in all the grace and beauty that render both of us breathless. I am, now, in a worn down state, but I refuse to give way, for, I see, I feel i am very much a part of this pool of energy effortlessly continuously, contagiously pulsating, this LIFE that leaves me expecting for more blue skies. I am a kite set free,  flying on its own i am a balloon, soaring, with no strings that hold i am the old amidst the new but, i still am... a breath of life, So...i struggle to live on. Sally Copyright March 2015 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
LIFE...A PAINTING...A POEM
These are the end times. Judgment is coming For our iniquities and apathy For the ****** of the unborn For worshiping money For voting Democrat For buying non-biodegradable products. Or so they say. I don't enjoy discussing Or even hearing About eschatology When and how and why the world will end Which is what seems to pervade the air at home Every time the conversation suffers an unfortunate lull. Some cathartic culmination Of a Deity's wrath No doubt for all the *** drugs, and rock & roll Humanity indulges in On a daily basis. Hearing about the end -- Demons born to women Automatons wearing human skins Talking animals Seems so redundant. The signs had been here all along. We've been living with them for ages now. What if Instead of a violent, sudden cataclysm, The end comes As an implosion Drawn out over billions of years? What if the second law of thermodynamics Is the prophesy Doomsday prophets overlooked? There are no aliens coming To **** and subjugate this planet: We're already here. This is the end We've been simmering in it Fighting and spitting and cursing In puddles of our filth and hate The end has been unfolding For the past few millennia As humanity continues to multiply Like rats beneath New York. And here we are Making plans Getting married Hoarding money Getting **** drunk Too busy preventing The little apocalypses Of our petty lives. We're planting gardens In the shadow of a warhead. We all saw it coming We were just too busy to care. My world's already ending In bits and pieces anyway At random intervals Every time I let someone in And she inevitably leaves Taking a piece of me with her My sun dies in agonizing degrees Even a quiet infatuation Eats away at me Crumb by crumb. All those theories about the end Forget them. I'm living my own apocalypse And surrounded by human-sized People-shaped versions Of the Four Horsemen So shut up already.
0
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
Heat Death
These are the end times. Judgment is coming For our iniquities and apathy For the ****** of the unborn For worshiping money For voting Democrat For buying non-biodegradable products. Or so they say. I don't enjoy discussing Or even hearing About eschatology When and how and why the world will end Which is what seems to pervade the air at home Every time the conversation suffers an unfortunate lull. Some cathartic culmination Of a Deity's wrath No doubt for all the *** drugs, and rock & roll Humanity indulges in On a daily basis. Hearing about the end -- Demons born to women Automatons wearing human skins Talking animals Seems so redundant. The signs had been here all along. We've been living with them for ages now. What if Instead of a violent, sudden cataclysm, The end comes As an implosion Drawn out over billions of years? What if the second law of thermodynamics Is the prophesy Doomsday prophets overlooked? There are no aliens coming To **** and subjugate this planet: We're already here. This is the end We've been simmering in it Fighting and spitting and cursing In puddles of our filth and hate The end has been unfolding For the past few millennia As humanity continues to multiply Like rats beneath New York. And here we are Making plans Getting married Hoarding money Getting **** drunk Too busy preventing The little apocalypses Of our petty lives. We're planting gardens In the shadow of a warhead. We all saw it coming We were just too busy to care. My world's already ending In bits and pieces anyway At random intervals Every time I let someone in And she inevitably leaves Taking a piece of me with her My sun dies in agonizing degrees Even a quiet infatuation Eats away at me Crumb by crumb. All those theories about the end Forget them. I'm living my own apocalypse And surrounded by human-sized People-shaped versions Of the Four Horsemen So shut up already.
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75
Distorted confirmation of self arrogance. Primitive tactics to reserve what no longer appears relevant. Hollow-filled apertures that indulges nothing but your own fatuity. But can you see through such an bombastic act? Of course you can't. The ground in which you stand upon is all you need to acknowledge. What you see is what was told to you and like a dog, an animal; you feed upon it. However, I have good news for you. You don't have to fret for I will be the one to protect you. I shall be the reassurance of your ignorance and shroud you with your own transient state of victory. Don't you see? Everything's going to be alright. I will bifurcate the tension and allow your very corridors to suffocate you. This my friend is salvation. Let the wave's intangible force impale your breath. Let it slither through your sinews and let your veins corrode under the pressure of silence. Permit them, as if you had any choice to begin with; to be transformed into stone and eradicated into dust. My return? Oh, my return is imminent. The eventuality that is much more evident than the eventuality of eternal sleep to a human. So sit in the empty chair of Kings and make peace with the vanishing. Make it your throne and savor your trophies, your victories, and superiority. And vanish peacefully within the cool and gentle breeze of illusion.
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Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
Words for the Mute, blind, and Silent: The Empty Chair of the Vanishing.
Through the fog and through the rain and the midst of my escape to seek a hope of rescue I await that though I fell away I become the master of the energies I once believed could not be tamed And So I thank you Thank you, for setting forth instruction, fufillng the indulges of my desire to be taught In my adolesence I listen to The Order of Your Word, carried out through training adhereing in self-discipline I now had learned to crawl.. that in the giving of free will, I be given way to step my foot in straight directed forward path, to spread the power of your Love Thank you, for the Wisdom to know choice for even though evil ways I crossed you granted opportunity to raise me up and walk Thank you, for the Wisdom that's your Son Who descended from the heavens to to guide the way in sacrifice that our hearts may see the light, never growing cold, to be overshadowed by the darkness, that fades into the night A Knowing, Through Jesus, The Law Fulfilling Christ That in Wisdom we come to know the Truth Truth that set forth Wisdom descended from the heavens to carry out the Truth A spreading of the seed that through Wisdom you come to know the Truth That Truth may blossom like the flowers of the field in hopes you be carried out by Wisdom To the land that fosters only Truth Truth that is of Wisdom Because Wisdom is of Truth Because Wisdome is the truth Because Wisdom was The Word guided by the Truth Because Wisdom is The Word Of Truth In Ascention, to once again unite The Trinity The Infinite Divine Cause the only path To Truth is Wisdom because only Wisdom knows the Truth Because Wisdom is the Truth And Truth resides in Wisdom Like Wisdom resides in Truth And To Find Truth You must Find Wisdom That it takes, Wisdom to Know Truth The Truth that is God Thank you, that my loving you was my absolute and greatest fear Whether I be right or whether I be wrong It was in my sinning That I found the Fear of God doors that led to my refuge that I may know liberation offerings he presents, to represent, his representations, of representatives In that, Rising from submeregence Thank you, Blind that unblinded I became I come to know the penalty, A life without a cost, without cause For such name I could not bear to hold dissenigration of the deepest realms that had been placed,        For the Angels of the Fall..             I'm not meant to be here Secluded in my hiding I find death, and death cannot be bought To act against in Sins of He whom I Fear  Most Loved, That I once more come to Thank You, For it was there, that I was found to find my self dwelling,         In the Shadows of The Lost
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Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
Shadows of the Lost
Through the fog and through the rain and the midst of my escape to seek a hope of rescue I await that though I fell away I become the master of the energies I once believed could not be tamed And So I thank you Thank you, for setting forth instruction, fufillng the indulges of my desire to be taught In my adolesence I listen to The Order of Your Word, carried out through training adhereing in self-discipline I now had learned to crawl.. that in the giving of free will, I be given way to step my foot in straight directed forward path, to spread the power of your Love Thank you, for the Wisdom to know choice for even though evil ways I crossed you granted opportunity to raise me up and walk Thank you, for the Wisdom that's your Son Who descended from the heavens to to guide the way in sacrifice that our hearts may see the light, never growing cold, to be overshadowed by the darkness, that fades into the night A Knowing, Through Jesus, The Law Fulfilling Christ That in Wisdom we come to know the Truth Truth that set forth Wisdom descended from the heavens to carry out the Truth A spreading of the seed that through Wisdom you come to know the Truth That Truth may blossom like the flowers of the field in hopes you be carried out by Wisdom To the land that fosters only Truth Truth that is of Wisdom Because Wisdom is of Truth Because Wisdome is the truth Because Wisdom was The Word guided by the Truth Because Wisdom is The Word Of Truth In Ascention, to once again unite The Trinity The Infinite Divine Cause the only path To Truth is Wisdom because only Wisdom knows the Truth Because Wisdom is the Truth And Truth resides in Wisdom Like Wisdom resides in Truth And To Find Truth You must Find Wisdom That it takes, Wisdom to Know Truth The Truth that is God Thank you, that my loving you was my absolute and greatest fear Whether I be right or whether I be wrong It was in my sinning That I found the Fear of God doors that led to my refuge that I may know liberation offerings he presents, to represent, his representations, of representatives In that, Rising from submeregence Thank you, Blind that unblinded I became I come to know the penalty, A life without a cost, without cause For such name I could not bear to hold dissenigration of the deepest realms that had been placed,        For the Angels of the Fall..             I'm not meant to be here Secluded in my hiding I find death, and death cannot be bought To act against in Sins of He whom I Fear  Most Loved, That I once more come to Thank You, For it was there, that I was found to find my self dwelling,         In the Shadows of The Lost
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64
Forgive me, I'm broken, so my words will definitely cut you. Forgive me, I'm bitter, so my thoughts might provoke you. I'm still just a shell of who I hope to be. I don't meet your high expectations. Forgive me. Forgive me, I've become numb, so your harsh, barbed, judgemental words don't infiltrate my being. Forgive me, I'm unconventional, I'm weird, I'm unattractive so I don't get the love I deserve. Never letting my guard down and keeping my composure tires me and this depresses me even more . Forgive me. Forgive me, I'm a pathological liar who over-indulges on mediocrity, fear and feelings. Forgive me because I'm unforgiving, I remember those who wronged me. Please forgive me, because I'll never be able to forgive you for turning me into the monster that I am.
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Forgive me.
for the false, convict, predilection for insane mumblings to cease into a void of hell, Nero indulges in the waters of the lethe, to forget life, the void, god. to burn our cities, temples, is to drink, but to eat. eat, mind you, the key to our temples, and dare not drink, least burn thy gods before unlocking their secrets, delectable enlightenment. eat, and let the void's blackness of death be lit with the magnificent magentas, mauves, and cyans, hue of inconceivable reaches of the potential of empty. the psychedelic ****** frolic and feel, pain sensual and dominating. to the banks with Nero and his abyss of black, let the cruel absence be filled with the blood of Nero, and the spectrum of our minds. eject that horrid emperor for your self and your self's liberation from yourself. the ego, burns with Nero, in the fiery waters of the lethe.
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Waters of The Lethe