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"ings" poems
Ash to mouth divide north and south east and west, shout  with class of Scout let it out with griffin clout we here we out , hear me out — rhymes in time without silent shrines to mime cleared the crowd covered eyes and mouth over body desert shroud if vengeance is your business then from swords to plow en lakesh an eye for an eye binds the all to be blind but you can’t unsee the signs no thoughts unclouded by loss out the window I toss mosaic fragments that cost health and awesome sauce Nazareth gutted commandments by anarchy spelled disaster after culture massive ego it swell up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir you can run but  from gamma ray you no hide passed a black hole wand inside a body died but it’s alright (it’s heaven sight till Zombie night ) animate dead necromantic black ring the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin consciousness draw out from within traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton a dusty tome bound and crafted man medicine subtracted by the head that spin in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings the miracle is mystery u cant guess it talking 3 eye see talking vip climb high as canopy walking so my shadow lands under me. ten toes touch to the dusty roads when toads appear throats close mighta had the Midas touch still the golden one was too much to flush you might live in Laos you my livid crowd you might live it now neva hit my limit how cause you live in now when you wake up proud timid mind plowed divid-dine fill the cloud insta crowd wowed this I vowed
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
NȺƶȺɍɇŧħ FɍȺǥmɇnŧs
Ash to mouth divide north and south east and west, shout  with class of Scout let it out with griffin clout we here we out , hear me out — rhymes in time without silent shrines to mime cleared the crowd covered eyes and mouth over body desert shroud if vengeance is your business then from swords to plow en lakesh an eye for an eye binds the all to be blind but you can’t unsee the signs no thoughts unclouded by loss out the window I toss mosaic fragments that cost health and awesome sauce Nazareth gutted commandments by anarchy spelled disaster after culture massive ego it swell up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir you can run but  from gamma ray you no hide passed a black hole wand inside a body died but it’s alright (it’s heaven sight till Zombie night ) animate dead necromantic black ring the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin consciousness draw out from within traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton a dusty tome bound and crafted man medicine subtracted by the head that spin in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings the miracle is mystery u cant guess it talking 3 eye see talking vip climb high as canopy walking so my shadow lands under me. ten toes touch to the dusty roads when toads appear throats close mighta had the Midas touch still the golden one was too much to flush you might live in Laos you my livid crowd you might live it now neva hit my limit how cause you live in now when you wake up proud timid mind plowed divid-dine fill the cloud insta crowd wowed this I vowed
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68
Au(Or)al Tune When (O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity knocks – Ah, pour that tune into me n(O)t just write or speak but /zIg:zAg/ gut-- --teral mut-- --ter yarns With Mouth-churn-- --ing-beat-lick-- --ings. Half-grown seedling ([her]bal:e(X)ssen(10)ces) into sm(O)ke adolescent (O)re worn from being p(o)(o)r— it was nE(X)CESSary for: battles birds beats b(O)(O)ks bottles bucks b(O)nes boys being(bad) sm(O)ke-rings w(ear)y with surr(end)er stripped v(O)wel for v(O)wel thr(OU)gh the yawn: (O)nly “(O)h.” (O)h … foll(O)ws the You’re w(or)th-knowing-ONLY-(O)nce type of l(i)ke. VERSE/VERSUS: the You’re-w(or)th-knowing-AT:LEAST-(O)nce type of l(i)ke VERSE/VERSUS: for (u)s it’s the worst type of verse when it’s them:VERSUS:us (verses) likewise -- (O)r worse -- it should really be about// a bad in (u)s: Y(O)U:ME (O)h after a kn(O)ck (O)h after a t(u)ne::// (end)-verse for worse – it’s an (end)-versus-us type of verse. (O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity pouring ringing e(X)cesses like ear-worms to hear words to heat hearts. Ah::rest that mouth-verse onto me. (restful//fluster) Ah::rest that mouth (silent//listen) soulless gall(O)w r(u)ng lipless v(O)wel sl(u)ng like ARTS::between::STARS then VOICES RANT ON::into::CONVERSATION then PAYMENT RECEIVED::yet::EVERY CENT PAID ME worst-verse: Y(O)u//like hanging your dipTH(O)NGS on (O)pportun(e)ity’s d(O)(O)r like sm(O)ke-rings like being(bad) like Y(O)U:ME like (O)h. n(O). (end)-verse: worst-verse: L(I)ttle.Kn(O)wn.V(O)wel:: n(O)(O)se big for (u)s ALL.
0
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Au(O)ral and in-tune
Au(Or)al Tune When (O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity knocks – Ah, pour that tune into me n(O)t just write or speak but /zIg:zAg/ gut-- --teral mut-- --ter yarns With Mouth-churn-- --ing-beat-lick-- --ings. Half-grown seedling ([her]bal:e(X)ssen(10)ces) into sm(O)ke adolescent (O)re worn from being p(o)(o)r— it was nE(X)CESSary for: battles birds beats b(O)(O)ks bottles bucks b(O)nes boys being(bad) sm(O)ke-rings w(ear)y with surr(end)er stripped v(O)wel for v(O)wel thr(OU)gh the yawn: (O)nly “(O)h.” (O)h … foll(O)ws the You’re w(or)th-knowing-ONLY-(O)nce type of l(i)ke. VERSE/VERSUS: the You’re-w(or)th-knowing-AT:LEAST-(O)nce type of l(i)ke VERSE/VERSUS: for (u)s it’s the worst type of verse when it’s them:VERSUS:us (verses) likewise -- (O)r worse -- it should really be about// a bad in (u)s: Y(O)U:ME (O)h after a kn(O)ck (O)h after a t(u)ne::// (end)-verse for worse – it’s an (end)-versus-us type of verse. (O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity pouring ringing e(X)cesses like ear-worms to hear words to heat hearts. Ah::rest that mouth-verse onto me. (restful//fluster) Ah::rest that mouth (silent//listen) soulless gall(O)w r(u)ng lipless v(O)wel sl(u)ng like ARTS::between::STARS then VOICES RANT ON::into::CONVERSATION then PAYMENT RECEIVED::yet::EVERY CENT PAID ME worst-verse: Y(O)u//like hanging your dipTH(O)NGS on (O)pportun(e)ity’s d(O)(O)r like sm(O)ke-rings like being(bad) like Y(O)U:ME like (O)h. n(O). (end)-verse: worst-verse: L(I)ttle.Kn(O)wn.V(O)wel:: n(O)(O)se big for (u)s ALL.
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95
... Had a fine sumptuous meal, And received all good wishes, Pal you looked so happy today, Plus 28 years you completed, You shall remember it all. Best moments were spent with us, In the lab we are one big family, Rings of halo on your head, Today on your birthday, Heavy meals we all had, Doing a lunch we did enjoy, Another birthday comes so late, Yes, obviously of the other labmates. Afterwards, we might get separated, Resting and working for ourselves, Venerated is our Dr Mohanty sir, Inches we are getting stronger, Never getting discouraged, Define he does a father.
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Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 7:09 AM UTC
Happy Birthday Arvind!
Think first Hear later Read now Come there Look in Go next Look front Bend on Break around And understand These are the words of the empty palm in his hand Has been Never could Maybe next Think back Dream visions Build bricks Bricks build Build roads Roads build Build-Ings Built on brick roads Stop.
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Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
~DILIGENCE~
conversational   tones too often tumble into sloppiness, leaving my words marked with fumble -d caresses and stuttering half-t -houghts. i don't leave you with my leftovers on purpose, they d -ropped  into my purse when i c -ame to see you today. a lot of th -ings drop into  my mind when i see you. but it's mostly  your wo -rds. perhaps my only love affair was with the   letters you placed under my name. i never wanted to be beautiful until you wrote o -f it with a ball point pen;  never dreamt of living extravagantly u -ntil you dusted me in spices and sparks with flecks of ink and the marks of your fingers. you crafte -d everything you loved about m -e. you are the only reason i am e -xtravagantly in love  with the fle -cks and sparks under my skin. y -ou planted whispers beneath my eyes and called them  dangerous. but only you      were  dangerous to                                                 me
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Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
tumbling
Blood-stains on t-shirts from really high falls A dog humps my leg and I kick his ***** Stupid *** sweaters that my grandma brings These are just some of my least-favorite things. "Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels" Conversations with people who are so dulls Flicks in the ears gee dee, man, that stings These are some more of my least-favorite things. Being sent to the yard to cut off a switch Double dating twins, don't know which one's which Rhyming "things" three times what a pain that is-ings? I just ran out of my least-favorite things.
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Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 12:27 AM UTC
My Least-Favorite Things
Hold on, as I seldom plead to others, Except, my parents for edible sweets, And for some other similar things, Rarely do I plead to others when I'm in need. Most of the times it is for a childish demand, Yes I frankly insist as I am so innocent eyed. Proud of my choice I was and still am, Lest I perish in my self-brought loneliness, Earning only four shoulders unknown, A defeated man I might perish alone. Kinfolk of mine as of now are few, Rings seldom this lifeless telephone, Ivies of poison hang in front of my house, Persons of importance have gotten so ancient, In this lonely lonesome life I still wait for you, Jarred ajar is this door of my heart, In my life ever since you left me alone.
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Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
Hear My Plea (Advanced Acrostic)
Make m e  beli ev e I'm b e a u t i f u l beca use I b elie ve I' m n o t Regretting you g et in side my h e a d wit h eve rythi ng you e v er sa id Regretting the th ings I di d to cha nge m yself Ove rt hin kin g; A nd Reme m ber ing eve ryt hing I we nt th rou gh
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
MIRROR
The poignance of a well lit room overshadowed by impending doom the effervescence loom the smoke screen hues lyrical debauchery of the cacophony of the bees the monotony of human bee-ings the trees sway unrest the roots melt with soot the oaks bent their heads raise a white smoke flag in silent victory, Where are we lifeless or livid again ? Are we questioning dreams of ourselves? These veins **** as a toad hops, onto the gravel of a broken pavement from a shallow pool of naked warmth, somewhere deep hidden under these falls, a white sleeve of corporate piety; human mirth of bilious greenery, crackling like bones, the froth of jealousy pools as teary eyes roll over rapid.eye.movement sleep, it lurks behind crimson bushes, eyes glinting like headlights, glitter fury. You’re an abomination to every blood-poem I’ve surmised so far, no matter how far. Your eyes match the size and shade of my backyard moon orchards. A satiable reflection of what we used to be, In a spectrum of green. I cease to be.
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC
Green.
d o   you kno w  e ver yth  i ng  ? ha ve  y  ou   c ons ider ed th a t   GOD m ay be  o ne  of th e  t h ings o y u   D O  NO T   KN  O    W  ???
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
o pen le tte rs to a the ists
Yesterdays pain is following you sits on your shoulder 'n don't set you free. Took the wrong footin n stepped down on those, lookin thru eyes that di'n't want to see. We is diff'rent in colour but skin an' blood just the same. I am filled up wit' anger, you is covered in shame. Scared to look back at hist'ry past unable to turn from what you wanted to last. Tortured and toubled, when it came to the clinch you bought us along an' introduced Mistuh Lynch. To you Mistuh Whitey we ar' lower than low, Mistuh Blacky does the t'ings that you don't want to know. I belongs to the man, just like-the dogs. There for pickin' the crop an' choppin' the logs. Yesterdays pain's not goin' nowhere It's stickin to you all o' the way. Fo' the evil yo' done 'tis stayin' right there. Never t' move, never t' sway. Yeah yest'days pain is followin you it sits on yo' shoulder 'n it won't set you free. Cos you took the wrong footin' an' stepped down on those, while starin' thru blind eyes that don't want t' see.
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
Yesterday's Pain's "not goin' nowhere"
seethe ~ bubble up as a result of being boiled, <> sunrise was 714 am in nyc this perfect fall day, chilled to perfection, a white wine of a day, so imbibe, only later does it heat up up and onwards to the temp where the walkers/joggers/runner recite hallelujahs and hosannas while moving at their own chosen pace, in a state of warm southern comfort, never a racing lest the poems now seething, boiling-burning bubbling up inside into the atmosphere explode! all of these early warming~warning inspirations, now~expressed, realized flickers of original ex-impressions, cannot be contained in an open field unsupported, these breech babies each, in a pediatric ICU, demanding an instantaneous airy concoction to Earth’s atmospheric literary intoxication they use: up hard, a dice roll, who lives who wilts, that docs cannot but obey the fetus’s insistence, many instructions, push pull breathe, must the. be given forthwith through to our servile waiting uterine fingertips, for we human are just be ~ings, nurturers of verbal artifacts that never die in an~always~at~the~ready, in service to the great conceptual, poetic in/justice
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Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 3:33 AM UTC
seethe churn burn and breathe (poetic justice?)
the girl (buena‼) slicing my 300g of lunchmeat ham behind the IGA meat counter & the ham itself, now limp lying dismal in the frontseat with the runs of fat ghostly thru the deliwrap. cup of cold coffee, intersection to-ings & fro-ings in the street and the traffic lights blinking now green floodlamp colour spilling across pavement. the crooning on the radio, the moth hurling itself 'gainst the windshield rap-tap-tapping to get in (to grasp that blinding bugfire warmth of the cablight) . . .the open book & its scrawlingsprawling pages on the dash. the church meeting keeping my pops & [me waiting] also my wanting to go home/(bong)/sleep . . . ahh it's all inconsequential tho--- nothing really matters in old zen-ness kiddo.
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Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
nothing really matters in old zen-ness
In my days and my nights, Loving me I feel her flights, Over the uninteresting & pale, Vivacious is her fantastic smile, Entirely it fixes spoiled mood, Yesterday's grief lost to love, Onus is now mine, oh dove, Upheld it high I've long kept, Kindly now feel home with me, Rings are embedded in our love, In my heart I often skip a beat, Post of guardian Angel I fill, If time calls for it, I'll fly.
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Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Enticer (2o Acrostic)
i can hear the misery of the poets, artists, and kings of the ages we wasn't born in, screaming in agony as they never had the chance to love, to encounter, to witness, to paint, to write about, the finest masterpiece that is you, my biggest dream, my dead star wish, you are the poison that intoxicates my veins and i couldn't ask for anything more. ••• i have always told myself not to fall in love with the moment, moments will fade away they will burn at the back of my head but i saw him standing there with his palm out for me and only me as the love-infused music about fools falling in love flowed flawlessly around us that's where i did it. i fell in love with not only the moment, i fell in love with the flowers in his mouth i fell in love with him.
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
a fairytale
***                                                  I                                           listen when i-                                         n many moods                                       bec-                  a-                                      use-                  it                                      he-                  lps                                       to               clear                                        m-       y mind.                                         music alway-                                    s makes thin-                                gs better. I-                         t lets me e-   s-                  cape my t-           o-              rtured r-                   e-           ality. T-                       he calm it br-         ings                    makes me feel safe, and t-         he st-              rength          i-             t gives          me h-            elps                m-              e to st-            and               tall.               It               helps               me                   ke-             e-            p my                     hea-                               d         held                              high, even when my h-                                     eart is breaking.                                                              It                                   it                          ai-                            ds me in e-                   x-                         pressing my-                 se-                          lf. It                          ke-                               eps me sane. Music                                       is my safe                                           place.***
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Music Is My Safe Place.
***                                                  I                                           listen when i-                                         n many moods                                       bec-                  a-                                      use-                  it                                      he-                  lps                                       to               clear                                        m-       y mind.                                         music alway-                                    s makes thin-                                gs better. I-                         t lets me e-   s-                  cape my t-           o-              rtured r-                   e-           ality. T-                       he calm it br-         ings                    makes me feel safe, and t-         he st-              rength          i-             t gives          me h-            elps                m-              e to st-            and               tall.               It               helps               me                   ke-             e-            p my                     hea-                               d         held                              high, even when my h-                                     eart is breaking.                                                              It                                   it                          ai-                            ds me in e-                   x-                         pressing my-                 se-                          lf. It                          ke-                               eps me sane. Music                                       is my safe                                           place.***
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31
Keep Being A mouthed chord Knuckle's Brace Acute angles, hoping to feel safe Knots Bring Anguish to a man with no patience Knit Better Antlers if you want to survive in the wild Kings Bombed Acceptance eager to heap on seconds, thirds Knees Borrow Answers when shaved, scratched stiff Knock Bravery Around and it will spin, dizzy and sick Know Broken Angel's and in time jazz will sound like warm Yeager poured over January ice
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May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC
K.B.A
i govern an idling heart                                                                 doomingly glazey won't lift a care                    but won't swat no fly either maintains functional        with the safety hitched on observes the public goings and fro-ings                                        without discrimination but offers no service                                        no aid             and no addition docile         and folded         and dormant of view in a world-scape kniving to be brighter                                                                                               more memorable and avidly self dominant                              i am a skiving witness the older i get the more this approach                                                              is not an easy one i observe a neighbour bully about his kids                  using jest rewards between shouting them to heel and cuffing them violent i observe a lady place her friend                                                                         with a simple remark ('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child it's nice to remember that') i observe war retread on the screen                                       i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.           human spoil seen now ;                  it draws pity, pain and longing i am not devoid                                                                despite much practice             some involvement on my part                                              may be due
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Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 6:10 PM UTC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . devoid
i govern an idling heart                                                                 doomingly glazey won't lift a care                    but won't swat no fly either maintains functional        with the safety hitched on observes the public goings and fro-ings                                        without discrimination but offers no service                                        no aid             and no addition docile         and folded         and dormant of view in a world-scape kniving to be brighter                                                                                               more memorable and avidly self dominant                              i am a skiving witness the older i get the more this approach                                                              is not an easy one i observe a neighbour bully about his kids                  using jest rewards between shouting them to heel and cuffing them violent i observe a lady place her friend                                                                         with a simple remark ('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child it's nice to remember that') i observe war retread on the screen                                       i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.           human spoil seen now ;                  it draws pity, pain and longing i am not devoid                                                                despite much practice             some involvement on my part                                              may be due
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30
your words are the honey, your brain is the hive. pollinate my words, so my creativity can thrive.
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Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 7:43 AM UTC
muse-ings.
moves like ash through the air                                                 off a balcony                                                             Me                                                              of course I’m coarse like gloves                                                   for falconry                                                             My                                                              stomach is the water of the                                                 Balkan Sea                                                             Her                                                              cadence is the snow in Fuji                                                 mountain’s spring                                                             She’s                                                              a tree I would down just                                                 to count the rings                                                             When                                                              she moves her mouth in any                                                 amount it sings                                                             She’s                                                             When.                                                             she’s                                                             when,                                                           silent sirens sing                                                   on violent violet islets                                                             and seems                                                     all the world’s a dream                                                              I                                                              am                                                                the                                                    breeze the sea sends                                                               and seas uneven                                                             sinks ships                                                                 clips wings                                                                  indecent                                                                 is ants                                                                  in the lips                                                           of her honey drip                                                                        ings                                                                         swings                                                                         whips                                                                          glist                                                                            ning                                                                           eclips                                                                            ed                                                                          miss thing                                                                       get with                                                                         hitch                                                                           ings?                                                                          drip                                                                     queen of kings                                                                           miss                                                                              myth                                                                          I’m miss                                                                               ing                                                                       can we just slip                                                                                  into                                                                                   exist                                                                                    ing                                                                           got you in my grip                                                                                  my grip                                                                                      is                                                                                    tight                                                                                      ning
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Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
She
moves like ash through the air                                                 off a balcony                                                             Me                                                              of course I’m coarse like gloves                                                   for falconry                                                             My                                                              stomach is the water of the                                                 Balkan Sea                                                             Her                                                              cadence is the snow in Fuji                                                 mountain’s spring                                                             She’s                                                              a tree I would down just                                                 to count the rings                                                             When                                                              she moves her mouth in any                                                 amount it sings                                                             She’s                                                             When.                                                             she’s                                                             when,                                                           silent sirens sing                                                   on violent violet islets                                                             and seems                                                     all the world’s a dream                                                              I                                                              am                                                                the                                                    breeze the sea sends                                                               and seas uneven                                                             sinks ships                                                                 clips wings                                                                  indecent                                                                 is ants                                                                  in the lips                                                           of her honey drip                                                                        ings                                                                         swings                                                                         whips                                                                          glist                                                                            ning                                                                           eclips                                                                            ed                                                                          miss thing                                                                       get with                                                                         hitch                                                                           ings?                                                                          drip                                                                     queen of kings                                                                           miss                                                                              myth                                                                          I’m miss                                                                               ing                                                                       can we just slip                                                                                  into                                                                                   exist                                                                                    ing                                                                           got you in my grip                                                                                  my grip                                                                                      is                                                                                    tight                                                                                      ning
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62
Whenever, I watch a scary movie, I am always afraid of going to sleep on that night. I have no idea why I watch these movies when I always end up screaming. I know they aren't real, ghosts don't exist, and, the main character is always so stupid. If my dog were to refuse to enter the house, I would know something was up. Even if I do enter the house, the moment I see something that is supernatural in the least, I would go running. Even if I do choose to stay in the house, I would not enter rooms when the door slowly creaks open and I would definitely not open the door when I hear random bang-ings in the middle of the night. See, the people in horror movies are just plain dumb. This coupled with the fact that ghosts or the living dead do not exist, is a clear sign that these movies are fake. Yet, this does not stop me from being scared.
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Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:06 AM UTC
Scary Movies
Open up and let me in Open doors and open arms Open concepts, because I want to make a home with you Open-ings Begin-ings Start-ing Open House, the first time I pretended you were mine Open to you Oh pen Oh pen to paper and fingers to keys, I could never explain how my legs opened to you because you were already mine and we’d done this before, just not with each other. Though we already knew that I was the last person you’d touch and you were the last person I’d touch. After that day, We closed our doors to the world
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
Open Everything
night falls w/liverspot clouds broken stars . . . deep blueness . . . fat-full moon. nights are that autumncool again (week of +20° unseasonality) basement stone wall coolness cigarette ***** a smokestack! peepings & oo-ings & cracklings                   in the woods. the ceiling creaks . . . creek runs bedroom lights a-burnin' & m'tired dart is down to the filter.
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Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 9:08 PM UTC
nightsmoke
carry your memories in a glass box. read your thoughts aloud and shout. throw your ideas without regard to gravity. help your hands to feel unknown shapes. open your mind to the infinite and truly it will be, your soul, free.
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Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 3:01 AM UTC
muse-ings
I hope it’s okay There are teachings and learnings here Or something I think pain can be good Hurt. Is beautiful There are deep connections And share-ings - So that’s okay, isn’t it? You remind me of Luke A tortured soul Deep deep feelings I’m curious Peel back the layers I should have just been his friend He needed something But not a lover to resent And lose You would sacrifice Too much In the end it could be Worse Slashing. Fizzling. Breaking. I’m cautious: You might tip- Over Like he did. Keep yourself. Uphold your values Your true strength is there somewhere Hiding in fear of rejection You’ll shine so so bright! Glean an enjoyment from life He did not. I’ve been on a buzz Running, running, running Covering over The deep sorrow Contrast to the extreme excite Mournful I am empty Hollow No one else will fill you up That’s a love and care you have to give yourself I’ve been trying to work through all this Maybe you And the reminders Are teachers A chance for reconciliation Maybe the girl with the red balloon Needs to let it go.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
If everything happens for a reason