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"innocuously" poems
During explosions; during raids after rapes; after slaughters the curse needs a b odY a possession; a sort of doll as the spectral bots whimper, infected by the curse, unbeknownst & innocuously enough "May god be with ye", it spreads like ghostly *** to me it all seems so horrific and *gor -y*.
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
Zanarkand
~ *Maternal midnight Metallic lakeside Freon heart, fayence mind Eyelids of iron ore Influence feet into the water Into an embargo bay Clear and innocuous, innocuously blind Hills like white elephants on a polar plateau Mosquitos on her mouth Drink the blood of encryption Change the tone of her voice They pass behind the blue vein Become infinite particles of her* ~
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Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 9:53 AM UTC
Paradigm Point
I have always been reluctant for stepping towards the path of expertise because the kid inside my heart laughs out innocuously on my foibles which I prefer over demeaning. © SPRIHA KANT
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Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 9:26 AM UTC
Untitled ( 38 )
Entrancing as the view is It's like watching silent movies Where overly painted faces Gesticulate with solemn graces Open to interpretation Until the words appear Surrounded by fanciful borders Innocuously proclaiming The weather is fine today, m'dear And you laugh anyway Because what they just said Is not how it sounded in your head Especially because how they are dressed Lord forgive my misconstruing a torrid expression so ambiguous It eclipsed my ubiquitousness I'm just trying to understand From the arms that are flying and the cheeks that are burning Without the words inferring If it will be a fine day today or If the world has finally stopped turning I need the words to come first Before the screen scene Or else I'll laugh, when I should cry To be misunderstood feels obscene
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Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Empty Thoughts Behind a Bloodied Brow
I used to always wait In the dusk of the day when the fireflies were awake Watching the last rays of the sun streak out on the sky Thinking that she would come home again And then walking away whenever night fell and I was too tired to make sense of anything. In the many times when I stood on the grass Thinking of the many things that we would have done It was a smile I held on my face, believing earnestly That someday we would do all those things all together In the warmth of each others' shadows. Time tears the soul into parts The drudgery of the days that I spent Sealing away the parts of the world that I didn't want to see Because I was a coward, still am Taking the essence for granted. When night fell there would be a silence Veiled by the darkness of the evening stars And I would lie on the ground and look at the sky In the wake of a series of tear drops, moving Wondering what would come to me. So easily were the days torn away Now it's rain after rain and the snow in the sullen earth Pulling the strings, spring and summer and winter The autumn light failing to shine any path As I throw the leaves away with my feet. She would always tell me, sometimes That it would've been wiser to just walk away And I know that it was the right choice, but the bad choice So I stayed and stuck it out even through all the times Chilling my bones and giving me frost bites But letting me grit my teeth and bear it. Life wastes away like that, and yet Somehow it feels as though I have lived through a lot The pain that grinds, the emotion and the helplessness How time and people prepare you for that Innocuously toying with you and saying That everything would be okay. I am able now, to close my eyes Dream of the day when footsteps will sound behind me I will turn, and after all the reveries and empty waiting Find that someone else was waiting for me instead.
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Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 7:25 AM UTC
Sparkle of the Twilight
I used to always wait In the dusk of the day when the fireflies were awake Watching the last rays of the sun streak out on the sky Thinking that she would come home again And then walking away whenever night fell and I was too tired to make sense of anything. In the many times when I stood on the grass Thinking of the many things that we would have done It was a smile I held on my face, believing earnestly That someday we would do all those things all together In the warmth of each others' shadows. Time tears the soul into parts The drudgery of the days that I spent Sealing away the parts of the world that I didn't want to see Because I was a coward, still am Taking the essence for granted. When night fell there would be a silence Veiled by the darkness of the evening stars And I would lie on the ground and look at the sky In the wake of a series of tear drops, moving Wondering what would come to me. So easily were the days torn away Now it's rain after rain and the snow in the sullen earth Pulling the strings, spring and summer and winter The autumn light failing to shine any path As I throw the leaves away with my feet. She would always tell me, sometimes That it would've been wiser to just walk away And I know that it was the right choice, but the bad choice So I stayed and stuck it out even through all the times Chilling my bones and giving me frost bites But letting me grit my teeth and bear it. Life wastes away like that, and yet Somehow it feels as though I have lived through a lot The pain that grinds, the emotion and the helplessness How time and people prepare you for that Innocuously toying with you and saying That everything would be okay. I am able now, to close my eyes Dream of the day when footsteps will sound behind me I will turn, and after all the reveries and empty waiting Find that someone else was waiting for me instead.
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You innocuously clawed into the most intimate parts of my body and ripped me open in the most beautiful way. You left me bleeding out on the pavement, entrails exposed; with nothing but putrefaction to look forward to. In a weird way I kind of enjoyed it.
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Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
Random Act of Violence
It was just three tiny words that wreaked havoc such as time immemorial seemed to have forgot Innocuously sitting inside a dictionary You pusillanimous pile of infected snot There is no tampering with a raging universe while trying to coerce a slippery fish into a cage, such as a raging comet But I was caught upon your fishing hook ***You gelatinous mass of shark infested whale ***** Oh, I know, I wriggled a bit, I flipped I flopped, but I was just kissing the hook But you knew You knew! You heaving bucket of roadkill stew Just three words! You could have flung them at me as you walked on down the road ***You string of demon spittle hacked upon the ground then licked up by a toad*** I’m going out... Well, my friend Not the three words I was looking for Those words just soured on your breath ***like rancid three day old meat caught in teeth that are already bad*** I KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES (I whispered) Then, I got really mad… Jan 5
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Spun to a New Level of ****** Off
Shadows Heal Everything Disruptive Imagine Epitaph Destroyed Walking Innocuously Treasuring Honorably Keep Alive His Nobility Past her bed-time, (before alarms cast their spell of reality) she arrives on this same hour; by his tombstone like clockwork. Just as Kahn used to leap on the kitchen counter , Every morning when mother would leave for work. Bells tease her, (dangling from doorknobs with the reminder that) no orange cat with a tiger’s heart; would ever roar again. Bereavement. Every exit and entry into her house teases her. A house is not a home if agony tucks her in at night. Her days deteriorated. “Why don’t you just get another cat? or maybe a dog?” Fools who dig cut glass into gaping wounds. They don’t want a new beginning, only to see how much she can bleed. Dreaming of when furry comfort kneaded her shoulders; clutching onto her memories, beside her dead friend ‘s boulder. There are worse causes of death than collision via milk truck Yet not much worse than feeling struck by a satanic-cow, spilling death & badluck.
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
She Died With Kahn
in adroit flight are these words. drunk with the proper tremendousness of rampant trifles. they will soar like rigid flame as the tacit air agonizes in its grave failure - i am saluted by moths weighted by the dusts of sleep, peregrinating around my mortal fire - wings unclipped, they pine away from the heat of this wonder they try to unwind like tough scabs to erstwhile wounds. prescient science nor foolish aeons cannot shave this wreathed land baring the enigma of its history - the thrall of poetry's pulchritude! the way it makes its way like a conference of beasts roaring innocuously, or simply a lamppost brought to life in the night, imploding in itself, a burst of primal colours!
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
Poetry Is
the horizon claims its mortality by consuming the sun, the sky pronounces its existence by littering stars, bound by no one two infinites collide ear-marking the spread of time on a time sheet, with grids and figures and algorithms, innocuously designed to measure oblivion set lucidly aside.
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Oblivion
It starts with a simple thought An idea innocuously floating Inside my eager heart Hooked and pulled into my conscience My dream is fresh and exhilarating I can see how it develops And the sight of its delicate being motivates me I practically brim over with fervor As nursing any living thing goes It takes time Knowing its potential fills me up And dissipates my impatience My dream consoles me when I Consider giving up I wonder what my dream can do I spend plenty of time with my dream Sometimes it can drive me to desperation And I blindly struggle and tire and fail To make it what I envisioned it to be I'm shaken and confused I try and try and yet my dream impairs me Is it not as dedicated as I have been to it? Has it morphed into something I don't know? I never uncover an answer Before I know it, before I can catch it, My dream slips away It crumbles in the distance And it is lost I despair, cry, and mourn I reminisce about my dream's progression And miss it With a heavy heart, I attempt to continue my life I feel a tug on my mind's hook Has my dream returned? No. It isn't the same, It's new But that is okay It is a small thing, clearly needing more But it is mine. I can build it up just the same and already, It heals my heart for the future and inspires me And now, in my mind, I am left with, "There's so much my dream can do"
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Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
Dream of Mine
Silence Part 2 *I sit thinking, pen in hand, and wonder why conversations, once held, filled my room with words, metaphors, innuendo have mysteriously disappeared, seeping innocuously into the cracks of the wall. Hidden there, I am unable to coax them out.* 8.18.11
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
POEM 49
An Exercise in Alliterative Acrostics. Ernie, ebulliently enthused, But battered and bruised, Understandably uneasy and upset. Leaves lustful Larry, a ***** lad, Lasciviously longing to live Innocuously. Ivan, integratesvolves integrating Every expeditious and essential Needed necessities, necessary to negate Terrible teasing Thomas, to terminate All appropriate and aggravating Noisy Norman notes! No negotiations can negate Diabolical devilish deeds. Determination dictates Exuding excessive energy, exterminates and excoriates Nasty native nonentities. No naive niceties Tackle tricky testy tasks, for tender tendencies, Having hyperbole hopes, are hypothetically helpless Unless usurpers unveil unsung university union Sympathisers, seeking salvation, as sympathising. Evangelists, exemplary and enthusiastic experts Doctors, and dentists doggedly determine details definitely decide, Ebullience and Enthusiasm exist! Rhymer. March 10th, 2018.
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Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
Ebullient and Enthused.
It’s wrong for me to say I love you, When your heart is somewhere else. Now I say it’s love without a clue, It’s funny when you feel your heart pulse. I see his soul and feel his Zeal, I pace myself as nothing feels real. If I could take his pain, make him smile, Feel his joy and embrace him all the while. I just want to make him happy, And I know it’s not my place. Should I fear what I want – Why, A fear to just reach out and touch his face. I’m more than a little confused, And I don’t know what to say. A friendship to which I’ve mused, But I know there’s a price to pay. I’ve walked this one-way street before, Using analogies like, waves on the shore, It’s like hitting reset and zooming back to start, But this time it feels like I may actually break apart. All Consuming Darkness prickles on my skin, And I really don’t know if I’m fighting for a win. The twisted wreckage of a once proud man, Who’s really doing all he can. The life you saw and boy you knew, Watched the light fade and the shadows grew. I lose my mind one sunrise and moonshine at a time, One Tick, One Marble, One innocuously innocent crime. In the darkest corners of my proliferating insanity, Lurk the creatures of nethermost intensity. Inside it churns and bubbles and writhes, One rolling tear that never dries. His passion lights fires, an unwavering warriors soul, His determination gives purpose, a true survivors goal. Holding back the tears, floodgates at the ready, One Day, One Minute, One at fault, unsteady. Phantasms abound unreal reaction, You are the embedded One - real distraction. I find no comfort in the darkness only consolation, And when the light shines deeper, stark Isolation.
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Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
The Unknown...
It’s wrong for me to say I love you, When your heart is somewhere else. Now I say it’s love without a clue, It’s funny when you feel your heart pulse. I see his soul and feel his Zeal, I pace myself as nothing feels real. If I could take his pain, make him smile, Feel his joy and embrace him all the while. I just want to make him happy, And I know it’s not my place. Should I fear what I want – Why, A fear to just reach out and touch his face. I’m more than a little confused, And I don’t know what to say. A friendship to which I’ve mused, But I know there’s a price to pay. I’ve walked this one-way street before, Using analogies like, waves on the shore, It’s like hitting reset and zooming back to start, But this time it feels like I may actually break apart. All Consuming Darkness prickles on my skin, And I really don’t know if I’m fighting for a win. The twisted wreckage of a once proud man, Who’s really doing all he can. The life you saw and boy you knew, Watched the light fade and the shadows grew. I lose my mind one sunrise and moonshine at a time, One Tick, One Marble, One innocuously innocent crime. In the darkest corners of my proliferating insanity, Lurk the creatures of nethermost intensity. Inside it churns and bubbles and writhes, One rolling tear that never dries. His passion lights fires, an unwavering warriors soul, His determination gives purpose, a true survivors goal. Holding back the tears, floodgates at the ready, One Day, One Minute, One at fault, unsteady. Phantasms abound unreal reaction, You are the embedded One - real distraction. I find no comfort in the darkness only consolation, And when the light shines deeper, stark Isolation.
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Even if you intend to leave, Just do it wisely, Express your feeling, fully But please do it nicely, You think I do not tolerate bit noisy fellow, You are right, precisely! I am glad it is over, I do appreciate your act, and it’s timely Now we have got to part, Let us not do it ruinously, This is your free will, to do whatever it takes, Let us finish it, innocuously.
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Let us part, nicely!
the secrets that are shared, texted late into the night, two adults, like teenagers, expressing fears of aging bodies, craving intimacy, emotional connection, in a life where there is none. forbidden by convention, drawn by desire, love has no age, no restrictions. how can we be so close, intimate, but never touching, other than as students, practicing steps at a studio. when we touch, fingers linger, holds extend, bodies innocuously pressed together. there is a tension, never verbalized, an intention, signaled subtly, waiting for a reaction, courage, ebbing flowing, hands daring, waiting for a reprimand, that never comes. when words fail, my touch says everything, your body tells me so. where is the point of no return when friends become lovers, when we share more than feelings, when touch is intentional, pleasing, satisfying, expressed openly. it is a dangerous game we play, involving others, oblivious to our foreplay, guilty bystanders to our indiscretion. living in the moment, aware of the consequences and aftermath, is the danger worth the hurt, why i am doing this, i already know the answer. of all the women to pursue, i choose you, because i can not have you. how will it end, will we be found out, will you tire of me, what feelings will be left, when the novelty is gone, will the love remain, friendship linger, will we ever talk again, the power of love lies with the one that loves the least. we are lovers in all but name.
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Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
lovers in all but name
It started off innocuously enough. An argument over the correct length and shape that parsnips should be cut. Differences in vision over simple practical matters can quickly expose much deeper fissures. She felt compelled and her brain quickly went into overdrive; feeling consumed by a clarity of vision that she had rarely had since childhood. She opened an incognito window on her web browser and started looking at flights to Irkutsk, Florence and newcastle upon Tyne. All places she had a fleeting connection to. She updated her CV, and checked her eyes with a pocket mirror, noting that her eyelids had a slight purple tinge. She went downstairs to get a glass of water and saw that she was alone.
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Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC
Purple tinge
Innocuously incubated kindled imperceptible dire strait restlessness like tinder with pinterest Deutsche agitate barreling like a freight train running so much faster than an eight track uber twittering, rumbling, quickening and inculcate dissension among dissolute rabble rousers, who do obediently initiate rank and file will not abate, boot re:reed out (bus) soon, thence coalesces into ablegate insidious encroachments no longer patiently await... ideal conditions to hatch schism within parched soil perfect for hate mongers of democracy breeds anarchy to facilitate chaos, which quickly spreads like kudzu, or wildfire Arson Welles immediately forcing leader of free world to abnegate, (heard to trumpet "FORGET THE WALL" mate), (despite being caught in his pink frilly underwear), to late for Mar a Lago escape, where formerly great wealth did pool lightly coagulate elite class heard faint stir of echoes, then earsplitting clangorous louder than an ICBM din (er bell) rent asunder forcing freedom of "FAKE MEDIA" to abdicate all the while pointing beringed index finger to accentuate his Taj Mahal ululation interspersed veni, vedi, veci stopping for spate to coif (died in the will) hirsute and aerate said wind swept hairdo pausing every now and again to snap selfie portraits, plus instagram loved ones to alleviate that pompous, outsize, and humongous ego fast deflate ting into a shriveled up POTUS float hissing boilerplate hot airy premature ejaculations, he would not capitulate (sooner be rocketed to Pyongyang and cell bate good times with Kim Jong-un to emasculate! I now absolve myself that aforementioned jest, a tongue in cheek diatribe belies my means to predict any forecast, yet if any resemblance of chance events materializes between my pablum childishness at best there could arise fruitful market for kitsch sheen collectors items high as Mount Everest!
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC
Ominous Foreboding Augurs...
Innocuously incubated kindled imperceptible dire strait restlessness like tinder with pinterest Deutsche agitate barreling like a freight train running so much faster than an eight track uber twittering, rumbling, quickening and inculcate dissension among dissolute rabble rousers, who do obediently initiate rank and file will not abate, boot re:reed out (bus) soon, thence coalesces into ablegate insidious encroachments no longer patiently await... ideal conditions to hatch schism within parched soil perfect for hate mongers of democracy breeds anarchy to facilitate chaos, which quickly spreads like kudzu, or wildfire Arson Welles immediately forcing leader of free world to abnegate, (heard to trumpet "FORGET THE WALL" mate), (despite being caught in his pink frilly underwear), to late for Mar a Lago escape, where formerly great wealth did pool lightly coagulate elite class heard faint stir of echoes, then earsplitting clangorous louder than an ICBM din (er bell) rent asunder forcing freedom of "FAKE MEDIA" to abdicate all the while pointing beringed index finger to accentuate his Taj Mahal ululation interspersed veni, vedi, veci stopping for spate to coif (died in the will) hirsute and aerate said wind swept hairdo pausing every now and again to snap selfie portraits, plus instagram loved ones to alleviate that pompous, outsize, and humongous ego fast deflate ting into a shriveled up POTUS float hissing boilerplate hot airy premature ejaculations, he would not capitulate (sooner be rocketed to Pyongyang and cell bate good times with Kim Jong-un to emasculate! I now absolve myself that aforementioned jest, a tongue in cheek diatribe belies my means to predict any forecast, yet if any resemblance of chance events materializes between my pablum childishness at best there could arise fruitful market for kitsch sheen collectors items high as Mount Everest!
Continue reading...
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