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"inextricably" poems
Genderqueer contesting histories climate apocalypse social activist make a tax-deductible donation today starting at the advocate level inextricably to reexamine his legacy linked black gender-ambiguous social and political struggles behavioral economics Afro-futurist vision of decolonize this text white boy spear-heading queerphobic witch-hunt singular surrealities queer Shabbat dinners dialogue this trope diversity Rawlsian diagnosis basic earth cooperative existential Marxism for our times starting at the advocate level inextricably to reexamine his legacy linked black gender-ambiguous social and political struggles behavioral economics Afro-futurist vision of decolonize this text white boy spear-heading queerphobic witch-hunt singular surrealities queer Shabbat dinners dialogue this trope diversity BAM! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! BOOM! THUD!
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Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 4:53 PM UTC
Polysyllables vs Exclamation Marks and Bellowing All-Caps and Ball-Caps
We walk along the beach at night, Arms entwined and hearts entwined, Waves lapping 'gainst our feet, Pebbles scurrying like sand ***** 'twixt our toes. Talking about ***** we are both A little tickly in the naughty bits department, As the gentle summer breeze Wafts through our matted ***** hairs. Just a brief hour or two ago, We were strangers at the Pier disco, And now our histories are to be Inextricably linked by fate. I do not know that, in a month or so, I shall need to send you A little yellow contact slip From the Margate Hospital special clinic Informing that you have been exposed to A most unpleasant social disease Which, with a bit of rotten luck, Could easily rot your insides. But, for now, our thoughts are far away As we laugh and joke together In our new found post-coital, Youthful lovers' camaraderie, Not wanting to speak too loudly or disturb The copulating pair by the nearby breakwater (Not that they'd be put off by a thunderclap Seeing as how he's on the short strokes by now).
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Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
A Seaside Idyll
I'm stuck inside The psychosis I know this I have a doctoral degree In Reality I have been taught The architecture And structure Of the grand psychosis I know this I have been goaded I have been guided I have been shown Inside The minds of men Who whirl around Their imagined worlds Boys and girls Unaware Fighting phantoms In thin air I should dis appear Yet I find myself Still Inextricably Involved In ordinary appearances I'm inside The psychosis I know this HELP! Sean Hunt Windermere November 9  2015 https://vimeo.com/145132005 (recitation)
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Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Inside The Psychosis
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is  unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be. For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
0
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
self portrait
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is  unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be. For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
Continue reading...
2
Sometimes I think about the structure of atoms and how difficult it can be to tell the difference between me and the cantaloupe I just ate and where I end and the sunlight begins. And I wonder if maybe when you kiss me you leave behind pieces of yourself on my tongue and that’s why I remember exactly how you taste no matter how long it’s been. Sometimes I think about quantum entanglement and how two different particles can be inextricably and inexplicably tied to each other no matter their physical distance. And I wonder if maybe a tiny piece of your left iris is entangled with an atom in the muscle of my cheek and that’s why I can’t help but smile when you look at me. Sometimes I think about our understanding of DNA and how so much of it we call “junk” because we don’t know what it does. And I wonder if maybe years from now they’ll be able to read my base pairs like a novel and some scientist will be able to look at them and say “This, just here, this is how we know the subject fell in love.”
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 12:03 AM UTC
Untitled
Gunga peas calypso Madly in my cooking *** gradually I pour canned coconut milk into the swirling flavors of cilantro, garlic and onions Staring into the rich brown stew I can see my Mother grating coconut meat and hand squeezing the milk like teats from a cow (Too much work for me) creating a traditional coconut rice and peas dish She was raised on a farm in St. Elizabeth, Jamaica early hours, rugged, hard labor were natural for the family which included nine siblings Pauline was a kind big hearted Soul with ample soft ***** perfect for children to lay their heads upon and skin that always seemed to smell of curry Burnt sienna Indian complexion wavy black river hair and colorful patois accent painted a portrait cavorting over the dandy, rolling goat hooved hills of Jamaican village peasantry The Moravian church of England formed beliefs woven inextricably through the fabric of her simplistic innocent existence our Mom instilled a love of God in us that was pure and hearty "Sonya stop your daydreaming" my Mother's clarion voice interrupts my avid reverie "Bumba!" I cry aloud "I haven't had bammy in eons" Quickly my fingers Google Another tasty native recipe chock full of memories and cassava root
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Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Gunga Gal
he was a man no taller than an ox. he was a galactic, well-tongued to express love & liberty. by blood naked hopes. he sat shackled back and dreaming, chanting for smooth justice. i have come, today! we have come, all days! brothers and sisters and people before the storm this you must realize… your freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. we cannot walk alone.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
mlk
one day you will remember me our lives are entwined inextricably youll pay for your mistakes in agony feel every pain you left me to feel i tried to rely on your integrity gave as much respect as you deigned deny to me now i see you for the man you know yourself to be ill know you as my martyr you die with me
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
medice, cura te ipsum (parasitic symbiosis)
The race of the Spring is giving way To the pace of the Summer, More and more Bees hover among the flowers, and Young Chickadees are bigger now Ripening like fruit on the vine, Passing the test of hours And in the lawn grass the Adder lies-- Still, stillness it must keep, Wrapp'd by a hundred butterflies Reds, oranges, blues, saffron, whites All inextricably unique Save when they rise, Rising as they do like smoke when the serpent bites The fang'd body uncoiled, vicious, sheer-- Nothing left in which to hide Nothing more to make disguise The Adder is bare before our eyes The Adder is yielded to scrutinize! See it before it flies! Spare yourself the surprise!
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May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
On The Verge
A bolt of lightning as our lips touch for the first time, tips of tongues conductors A torrent of water in my body as your “love” flows into my ears and permeates my cells A blaze of fire as our bodies unite in intimacy and our souls become one - bound inextricably
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:04 AM UTC
Elemental Passion
Maybe our cars sat side by side at the traffic lights, and you saw me as the lights metamorphosed, and I leant against the window so something else could hold me like the boy I'd left behind. Or maybe I stood behind you, bad tempered, impatient and sighing louder than necessary, in the supermarket queue, humming the notes of a song that later would wrap you in the folds of slumber, while I, in insomniac hours, shrugged off dreamland and wondered if he'd gone to sleep. Maybe it was the summer I dyed my hair blonde, and had a face decorated with freckles, and the pretendings of a tan. I was desperately assigning the shapes in the faceless clouds to the boy who'd taken my heart and forgotten me. I hope that maybe I was the person who reminded you of you, on that particular blue Monday, when you couldn't see yourself. Or perfumed the train with your childhood vanilla, and you remembered to call home,   and it made your mother smile. We are strangers, you and me, but maybe, countries away, he'll hear my laugh unfold from you in giggle shaped puzzle pieces, and know. You see, we are the stars of a labyrinthine galaxy, inextricably connected as we trace ourselves onto the night sky, searching.
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
Maybe
Beauty Queen Miss Q Thinking of you ;-) :-) ... ? Post-apocalyptic characters flash white against a twilight screen Tiny, shiny meanings begging for responses But I won't feed these visions of nothingness Since when did I become bound to this ubiquitous pretense, since when did I become cast into these tiny webs roping me inextricably closer to the "you" I just met yesterday and since when did we become like spineless eels caught dumbfounded in these fishing lines of textonomy? This ain't swag and if it is, then your swag makes me want to regurgitate la salsa verde y los tamales de pollo all over your smooth and crisp white shoes Can't someone untie me from these social knots? I want to go back to ink-blots, conscriptions, Polaroid photographs, X's and abandoned I's
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Textrauma
I told you back then what it would be like but you never really believed me, by ignoring our love's demanding hike instead you just tried to deceive me. I gave you everything you asked of me and all that I could give was given, but our love was blind it just didn't see on that road ahead it was driven. We tried to make amends along the way and continued living together, but our love's seeking of us every day was heading towards stormy weather. We were exhausted with ourselves it seemed and became distanced from each other, we would soon get to know what our love deemed when starting to look for another. We then drifted apart to seek elsewhere and went our separate ways in life, wondering who else our love would forswear to find fulfilment as man and wife. It would not be again for a long time that our lives crossed paths in a strange way, perhaps it was the right season or clime when we saw each other on that day. We smiled and greeted then informally asking each other how we had been, and how there of all places came to be that place we had each other last seen. It was in love forlorn two hearts were bare and placed inextricably apart there. ____________________
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
In Love Forlorn
There is an inch within all of us-- An inch that is inextricably tiny, small and hard to find; An inch that can determine whether or not we laugh, smile or cry. We are forever connected and cannot escape it; We must accept it. For it is in this inch that true and eternal happiness can relinquish it's strength.
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Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 6:56 AM UTC
Confidence.
forever bound by mutual Love inextricably wounded by mutual pain
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
together (10W)
I purchase fantasy and found you here with me indeed, The fruit of bitter lies rot, now new love is fermented. You and I were alone in the cold damp night's remedy, Your love devour pain as your embrace swallowed my body, You open your lips and I imbued your thirst with kisses, So you pull me close to your heart leaving no spaces. We conquer the silent night with warmth and sweet moaning sound, Thus, now 'til eternity we're inextricably bound. Titillating blend of faithfulness and superb passion, Was the adamant pillars of our untainted union. Their rude jealousy ain't gonna shake and cause us trouble, For in this night full of fiery love we're immovable. With your bare body close to mine I whisper, "Honey let me sleep this way forever, ' don't want to wake up in painful reality,                                                      never!"
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Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 7:10 AM UTC
Dream
I love the way my voice sounds when I say your name. It's like honey melding into the warm butter on toast. Sipping water after eating mints. Those sorts of capricious and silly feelings. It is consuming, inextricably tangling my words when I am speaking. Every little word slightly unhinges from its meaning and spells out yours. Somehow you find your way into my laughter, giggles and smiles. So, please don't say you are just a person. Sure, you don't rule the universe. But you sure do      d.o.t  the stars             in mine, sweet heart.
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
You, You & Y-o-u.
Writing, Scribbling down, Such choices we make, Edging the sliding doors of life, Running, walking, or turning away, How odd, these bold decisions, Life-changing options, Not bold at all, taken on a whim, And yet, yet, they guide, hmm, Saturating our souls, hearts, our minds, With more permanence than we know, Can ever know, for who can know, What will become of us; any of us? Are we indelibly tattooed, all of us? Perhaps, and fate and destiny are dust, Lives become intertwined, tightly bound, Inextricably linked, so, so tight, Through little more than pen and ink, And on we flow, downstream, Not, going with the flow, no, Only ‘dead-fish’ go with the flow, But ‘current drifting’ observing, Before plunging beneath the surface, Tugging the legs of the serene swan, Playfully, cajolingly, teasingly, Before emerging, drying off, Thinking, choosing, acting, Scribbling down, Writing. © Paul Chafer 2014 My poem was inspired by the poem below by Amanda FH. We Are Art The choices we make The life-changing ones Are indelibly etched on our hearts and souls and skin. Every decision is a making, a changing, I am tattooed And so are you. Let's compare our pictures And tell each other stories. Make notes on me I'm still a choice Waiting to be branded Let your ink flow.
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Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Let Your Ink Flow
Thanks for the kind Suggestion is vain as the Reality may be Rags do come handy Rest in peace the more Dusty Ill compared beyond Yes miraculous Contrast where you are quit trite Accomplished lie As with mine same way Inextricably linked With our great failures Oh ya you are more Singular Menage de Trio Topsy Bottoming
0
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
Dark Dovetails
Empty. And alone. How long will I feel like this? Endless days stretching grey into my future. Tomorrow seems too much, but days, months, ******* years will follow. And I can’t bear it. Years of feeling incomplete, don’t think I want anymore. Everyone says they know how I’m feeling, they felt just the same. It doesn’t help. I’m still incomplete. Surely this isn’t normal. Or if it is why am I the only one who doesn’t seem able to cope with it. Or do we all secretly cry ourselves to sleep at night? Feel a clawing loneliness- want to scream, want to cry but are so full up of emptiness that there’s no release? I wish you were here. To feel you hold me, and hush me, and kiss me… it would mean everything. I remember sometimes I just wanted to rip away my skin and let our hearts and souls embrace, join together, instead of having them caged within our fickle chests. And why can’t my words soar with the same beauty as the classics? “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.” “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” But they won’t come to me. My heart mustn’t hold such beauty. Even these words choke me, they can’t describe the raging, black, endless, loneliness that engulf me, just as your laughter used to embrace me. Such moments were brief though. Now I can barely remember the curve of your body around me, the crinkle of eyes and flash of teeth when you smiled, your touch. They’re burned into me in momentary flashes, just to fade into shadows that I chase but can’t catch. Now you, a different you, have merely made me worse. I was slowly rebuilding, calming… And you tore me down. Now everything seems a game, with rules I don’t understand. Is it real, is it imagined, is it in fact me twisting everything when everyone else is sane? No words come to me. I’m pulled in so many directions, thoughts spinning through me and I can’t even make some sweeping literary masterpiece out of it to make it somehow worthwhile. I can’t make sense of any of it…
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Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
Endless
Empty. And alone. How long will I feel like this? Endless days stretching grey into my future. Tomorrow seems too much, but days, months, ******* years will follow. And I can’t bear it. Years of feeling incomplete, don’t think I want anymore. Everyone says they know how I’m feeling, they felt just the same. It doesn’t help. I’m still incomplete. Surely this isn’t normal. Or if it is why am I the only one who doesn’t seem able to cope with it. Or do we all secretly cry ourselves to sleep at night? Feel a clawing loneliness- want to scream, want to cry but are so full up of emptiness that there’s no release? I wish you were here. To feel you hold me, and hush me, and kiss me… it would mean everything. I remember sometimes I just wanted to rip away my skin and let our hearts and souls embrace, join together, instead of having them caged within our fickle chests. And why can’t my words soar with the same beauty as the classics? “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.” “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” But they won’t come to me. My heart mustn’t hold such beauty. Even these words choke me, they can’t describe the raging, black, endless, loneliness that engulf me, just as your laughter used to embrace me. Such moments were brief though. Now I can barely remember the curve of your body around me, the crinkle of eyes and flash of teeth when you smiled, your touch. They’re burned into me in momentary flashes, just to fade into shadows that I chase but can’t catch. Now you, a different you, have merely made me worse. I was slowly rebuilding, calming… And you tore me down. Now everything seems a game, with rules I don’t understand. Is it real, is it imagined, is it in fact me twisting everything when everyone else is sane? No words come to me. I’m pulled in so many directions, thoughts spinning through me and I can’t even make some sweeping literary masterpiece out of it to make it somehow worthwhile. I can’t make sense of any of it…
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33
this, their-poem, emitting their call-sign, those who once checked the box of in love..a status of joyful revelation, for all to see, all passerby’s, all witnesses to the outstanding glowing skin, the perms-frozen half smiles that never are erased, you secret it not so much, for your body entire expels the scent secreted of a world in orbit around each other then the unexplainable, threads go worn, a slower tearing, one by one, till there is not one, nary more any, you then check the invisible box, “not in a relationship” and it feels like a load has been dropped onto you from on high, flattened, now cloaked in a demeanor that cries out they put a load right on me, and you seek excuses to recall ecstasy and you start dancing to forget, like a centrifugal whirlpool’s vortex, whipping up the air surrounding to heat a forgetting, till the until, of collapsing shame offers up arms to drown you, a relief offering, and the words to “Yesterday” are everywhere reverberating walking down the street a somebody smiles to at, just, for you, without cause, but a causal triggering a singular event, just a smile with edged up corners, and suddenly you feet golightly, and inexplicably inextricably in the moment it is all you can see, and one starts to dance to well remember and a poem forms upon your silently moving lips, and a dance to remember is finished, starts up a new one, with similar familiar steps a dance to believe in~ and laugh when you say your name out loud you! *are the poet of the way, a new word choreographer* and there will be a way, always another way…
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Sep 18, 2024
Sep 18, 2024 at 12:02 PM UTC
some dance to forget...
this, their-poem, emitting their call-sign, those who once checked the box of in love..a status of joyful revelation, for all to see, all passerby’s, all witnesses to the outstanding glowing skin, the perms-frozen half smiles that never are erased, you secret it not so much, for your body entire expels the scent secreted of a world in orbit around each other then the unexplainable, threads go worn, a slower tearing, one by one, till there is not one, nary more any, you then check the invisible box, “not in a relationship” and it feels like a load has been dropped onto you from on high, flattened, now cloaked in a demeanor that cries out they put a load right on me, and you seek excuses to recall ecstasy and you start dancing to forget, like a centrifugal whirlpool’s vortex, whipping up the air surrounding to heat a forgetting, till the until, of collapsing shame offers up arms to drown you, a relief offering, and the words to “Yesterday” are everywhere reverberating walking down the street a somebody smiles to at, just, for you, without cause, but a causal triggering a singular event, just a smile with edged up corners, and suddenly you feet golightly, and inexplicably inextricably in the moment it is all you can see, and one starts to dance to well remember and a poem forms upon your silently moving lips, and a dance to remember is finished, starts up a new one, with similar familiar steps a dance to believe in~ and laugh when you say your name out loud you! *are the poet of the way, a new word choreographer* and there will be a way, always another way…
Continue reading...
69
<> *the supply of words is not inexhaustible neither are the combinations thereof; what is inextricably true, of these two linkages that is not exhaustive, is my endless delight, in finding the ones that I’ve yet to contemplate till you brought them waving to my eyes, so as far as I’m concerned, you originate delight daily, and that is the spark you create making every day, the eighth day of creation of the world.* Sat Aug 22 2020
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Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 10:35 AM UTC
Hey you, inexhaustible..
Golden morning breaks – New life, encapsulated By shadows, illuminated. You can smell the earth So much more clearly After rain. A turn down An unfamiliar lane. A new path, hiking Vast forests of pine – They are breathing. Dry needles and thistle aplenty; Watch for the sharp Prickles and barbs. Leaning into the pain, The imperfect afternoons: Blissful at times. Dissolving into rich Orange hues. A forge of blue metal Lays cooling, tonight. Souls clenched tight; Entrenched, dug in. A white flag raised – Prematurely, perhaps… A surrender inside That vacant stare. Twilight sits inside Your sinking eyes As I look to the sky. The light dances lithly Amidst the clouds, While a solitary church bell sings As birds And the horizon Seem inextricably tied together, Chasing that freedom together To far away places. I write with the hope That these words will spring Tendrils, climb up from seeds That lay inside your heart. Grow up over spaces That have gone dry, Turned cold. Morphing from brown To green, In those neglected crevices Of your being.
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Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
Petrichor
I wouldn't undo time. I may wish some experiences had happened differently or had never come about, but the road I took is inextricably me. I do hope that I have learned enough to go forward and continue what I set out on this long road for in the first place: to live courageously, to build precious community, to uncover memories buried, to know love firsthand--not just love, but liberation, interdependence, intimacy. My heart, the heart of chosen family to lead me on so that I may find why time could not undo me.
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Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:41 PM UTC
Time