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"insatiably" poems
And you left me like a baby flower choking On dust, and loss of future blooming, And tremors like Eos's tears On the stillest vernal pool - It was as if you stole my life and simply Went - or put me on my little sailboat That sang of youth and an hourglass, a Duet composed in the ***** crystal of purgatory, Between my insatiably wild stronghold and The rosy maiden, blushing, full, yet Dumb, willingly deaf to red flags, Praying for a partner to make a golden Lady of the wood and water And light, so warm and shimmering under The forest's pine-down cover - what a Big, hasty mistake, to keep yourself Hollow and blind to the day's good things, to remain a Man alone, wistfully misplacing a love Who showed the loyalty of a crimson kindness, and who Was always singing bliss and beauty and glowing into your ears, So stuffed with lies, bitterness, ideals, and Full like drunken leeches - all this, and the coldness, the stubbornness Of the oldest mule, to stay isolated from my Loving eyes, to make time with our sorrowful Echoes, yours and mine. *vertical quote from Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Weakness
A drab drop drips Downed casualty Down casually. A sulfuric gust cycles In three fly-by nights. A gust hoping, A breeze yearning to dab a wet tear off a moistened spring cheek. Floating by on a wisp of breath, Breathed once by the blessed. Now irreparably tainted, then incomprehensible anew: Treated by the respirations of the perspiring, expending breath on czarist ears, aspiring; Cured by the tongues of the insatiably dying And by those primary soothe-ers, invisibly crying. Alveoli gripping that sine qua non of civilization Until they must release the once-oxygen into the hills of Kyivan Rus. A first breath and second As much as a penultimate and final. And witness to the chronology that led to such a Bloodbath-blessed blast As this.
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
A windless night in Amsterdam
It's made in me The way of me So loving & savory, What do I speak of? My dear instinctive bravery Insatiably A heart of gold engraved in thee, Solemnly a gift from God given gracefully. Questioned by many about my dashing courage Noble-minded behavior, Intrepidity Superman-like favor, Saving a life with intent & untapped wit Comforting to the mind So very major. Put my life on the line for someone in need Even for animals, treated, As loved ones indeed Deference Urbanity It sits well as my creed, So many think of me as crazy, somewhat insane For having such a desire of valiance within my brain, Why salt my game? Because I'm so in tact with life? The beauty it holds? Mettle with heartfelt kindness to my delight? I can't help it I must protect & serve, MINUS THE BADGE Pains me to see a damsel in distress No tender heart deserves. I know that every situation is not my problem Shouldn't concern me some would say, Like a man beating his wife while the kids cry & stray In daylight even Never could I look away, I'm sorry I feel I must jump in to save my quarry, Who knows I may be in over my head, But I can care less at times Must save the prey from the predator, can't consume of spoiled bread. Whether its a car speeding about to run over a baby Or a relentless fire in a building coursing to burn a lady, With my mind attentive, laced with uncontested audacity, Boldness Courtesy Reverence All out strong Tenacity, I'm here, Im here... Good guys are yet to be seen Daredevils that are truly serene, But no matter what I'm here, With my mind & Valor Have no fear A young soldier is near, At your service I'll be around to help Take a stand with me Let me lend a hand for thee With my beautiful, yet Ravishing Gallantry.... ©Michael P. Smith
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 9:36 AM UTC
Ravishing Gallantry
It's made in me The way of me So loving & savory, What do I speak of? My dear instinctive bravery Insatiably A heart of gold engraved in thee, Solemnly a gift from God given gracefully. Questioned by many about my dashing courage Noble-minded behavior, Intrepidity Superman-like favor, Saving a life with intent & untapped wit Comforting to the mind So very major. Put my life on the line for someone in need Even for animals, treated, As loved ones indeed Deference Urbanity It sits well as my creed, So many think of me as crazy, somewhat insane For having such a desire of valiance within my brain, Why salt my game? Because I'm so in tact with life? The beauty it holds? Mettle with heartfelt kindness to my delight? I can't help it I must protect & serve, MINUS THE BADGE Pains me to see a damsel in distress No tender heart deserves. I know that every situation is not my problem Shouldn't concern me some would say, Like a man beating his wife while the kids cry & stray In daylight even Never could I look away, I'm sorry I feel I must jump in to save my quarry, Who knows I may be in over my head, But I can care less at times Must save the prey from the predator, can't consume of spoiled bread. Whether its a car speeding about to run over a baby Or a relentless fire in a building coursing to burn a lady, With my mind attentive, laced with uncontested audacity, Boldness Courtesy Reverence All out strong Tenacity, I'm here, Im here... Good guys are yet to be seen Daredevils that are truly serene, But no matter what I'm here, With my mind & Valor Have no fear A young soldier is near, At your service I'll be around to help Take a stand with me Let me lend a hand for thee With my beautiful, yet Ravishing Gallantry.... ©Michael P. Smith
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87
. ***trees dance sway insatiably    stirring tantalizingly ... exposing invisible secrets blowin' the winds*** wild is the wind
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Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
secrets of the wind ...
From the visions of sparrow vanguards that fly insatiably onward. From the tombs of ancient hearts draped in flowing, moth-eaten fabric. From the fighter jets stalling somewhere above solitary and succinct farmlands. From the bottom of a broken purple sunset that lies embossed on my brain. From the silliest half-thought left unvoiced in the vagrant light of a damp and desolate lamp lying in a landfill. From several mouths at once. From oracles cross-legged in caves. From the gills of a catfish on a hook. From mythical forgeries and the perjurer's tongue. To the subdued hope resting in a trembling hand gripped round its pen. To satisfaction that is oneness that seems to never arrive but is there all along. To the peaks of the Himalayas. To my spidered desk light, shallow with doubt. To my flustered and torrential page.
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Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
Where it Comes from and Where it Goes
A tiger at the zoo. Violent, impulsive, and insatiably ferocious; To be feared, surely dangerous? Aging in captivity, he watches the people walk by; who mostly are thankful at him safely set apart from others. A woman pauses in front of his predicament, and thinks," What folly is this? For I do not fear the untamed, I will test him and encroach upon his pride." Her reasoning unclear, she approaches that cage; Not caring whether for her safety, or his- To **** into action, something that may or may not be safe. I watched this from some distance, and thought, "Will she push too far and his animalistic savagery will overcome, to fatally satiate her curiosity? Or, will he give it no thought at all and soon expect his scheduled pittance of flesh to devour?" After all, I reasoned, he is still a tiger. I watched intently. And waited...
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Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
Wild in captivity
For I to cherish soaked in sunbathe dream of freckles on cream and strawberries For you to see and sigh and fill with warm fizzy pink water too sweet to contemplate  For you to see and sigh and long for long sleeved sheathed in jealousy spilling out in bright red syrup For I to paint faces with my utterances fanciful making ugly alluring curious mysterious attractive I can take my nose to be strength clever seducting wicked men and women to listen to my describes or look upon papyrus sheets I can make my jaw a naive child stricken with blue veins translucent skin clinging papery like wings to brittle bones under eaves ready to snap I can write my eyes wide innocent in first time headlights first time frosted firsts filled with empty antecedents of unclasped things and fifty fifty longings I can make the ugly striking like a stinging snake cruel contemplating lashing smarts or make it sad sorrowful quiet longing new to life love mature but still a child I can add grace poise to my stretched out neck make it stand tall of pride training because it's ladylike to do so and so I must and say my prayers every night too as I powder over my faintly drawn freckles Boyish humour uncaring to my generous brows a baseball mitt bubblegum cards and a fetish for goths forever unrecognised as spit flies and at home haircuts compose a flyaway life Embellish the hollows collarbones and detract the too-broad shoulders make the frailty proud and small shrink it down to fit in a girl big brothers to gentle and lovers to rough pinned wrists that near snap With my words I reap the benefits of my own mindly kindling I wander through half made times in history and finished times two seconds right now  I can create myself and so I do my thirst to be is insatiably insatisfied like my attraction to bad grammar and lilts when you talk so I do I become each and every one  I create myself and it's addicting
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Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
Beauty And (In) Creation
For I to cherish soaked in sunbathe dream of freckles on cream and strawberries For you to see and sigh and fill with warm fizzy pink water too sweet to contemplate  For you to see and sigh and long for long sleeved sheathed in jealousy spilling out in bright red syrup For I to paint faces with my utterances fanciful making ugly alluring curious mysterious attractive I can take my nose to be strength clever seducting wicked men and women to listen to my describes or look upon papyrus sheets I can make my jaw a naive child stricken with blue veins translucent skin clinging papery like wings to brittle bones under eaves ready to snap I can write my eyes wide innocent in first time headlights first time frosted firsts filled with empty antecedents of unclasped things and fifty fifty longings I can make the ugly striking like a stinging snake cruel contemplating lashing smarts or make it sad sorrowful quiet longing new to life love mature but still a child I can add grace poise to my stretched out neck make it stand tall of pride training because it's ladylike to do so and so I must and say my prayers every night too as I powder over my faintly drawn freckles Boyish humour uncaring to my generous brows a baseball mitt bubblegum cards and a fetish for goths forever unrecognised as spit flies and at home haircuts compose a flyaway life Embellish the hollows collarbones and detract the too-broad shoulders make the frailty proud and small shrink it down to fit in a girl big brothers to gentle and lovers to rough pinned wrists that near snap With my words I reap the benefits of my own mindly kindling I wander through half made times in history and finished times two seconds right now  I can create myself and so I do my thirst to be is insatiably insatisfied like my attraction to bad grammar and lilts when you talk so I do I become each and every one  I create myself and it's addicting
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14
Beguiling Almost consoling She was drawn to his florid words Like an innocent child Mesmerized by his antics He kissed her Soft hands and all at once She has fallen Chained in his lair She had a heart of delicate petals Disarming beauty Immaculate Pristine as the waters of the oceans Her blood flows in flamboyance He feeds on her soul Insatiably devouring her vitality He likes to indulge himself in her Deliberate death A precise inclination of his wickedness Naive and unaware She deteriorates Like a dainty fruit Bruised with a rotting smell That pervades Her core bleeds In dissolution And her luster fades Shriveled hands and face Who will save her, bring back her grace? -Cancer, Margaret Austin Go
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
Cancer
****** distresses Insatiably Only you Can satisfy The primal Urges Which you have Inflicted Upon me Shackled To the arrest Of your Seductive allures Slave to your Sensual pleasures Prisoner to my Ambitions To be the Utmost of your Sensuous Pursuits.
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Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
******
Precipice candle-lit camouflaged burns torn woken fast in ****** bayonet frocks insatiably milk churned I tripped and called out your name on falling prowling came to mind through an unknown gate, late and then I woke dizzy spokes unfettered but meaning less than before while wheeling down hills of never ending clever proportions swung towards Home Precipice candle-flicked dark on the front escaping to the black houses of clutter where no one lives and camouflage licks dashed hopes from the wounds of all fires ever there inflicted and spooned undertow slept as I dreamed pistacchio nuts in dry lap watching a harmless movie go away Scene come back in the Act splinter my porous nut over a hard stone of sultry solace
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Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 4:47 AM UTC
Precipice
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Forlorn Xanthic Flowers
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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39
Grat, smat, tack. my windows are black. and the raven (that raven) comes insatiably back and the windows and caskets and smallish ash-baskets (you'd better believe that they know what their task is) are holding the pieces, the embers, the sound and hollowing portions we make in the ground are the sickly embrace; a dismembering hug of a small, hump-backed hobo without heart or a lung. and his eye-hollows burn for to end Adam’s race and so often I wonder How the fleetest of foot can’t find the footing to escape. have you ever wondered "what if I died tomorrow" the earth would still twirl and seven billion of her people would never stop to cry. They didn't even know that you were alive. but that's fine.
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Ash-Baskets
The natural attribute of my inquiring intuition Coerced me to tread passionately in the wake Of this provocatively, entertaining creature To analyze the abstract desires of her mind She peeks just up over her lovely shoulder Capturing the dazzling quality of my image From the corner of her harlequin green eyes As she licks her lips insatiably with hunger Ultimately this woman approached me fearlessly Exuding the very spark of unmistakable attraction She then began stroking her fingers through my hair Caressing my face with her assuaging touch of heaven Softly rubbing my chest while whispering risque enigmas of pleasure Oh, how I could feel the air of her pacifying breath blowing in my ear While her alluring cave of magic chafed against my yearning serpent Not one word was spoken for she could sense my crave to fornicate
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Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 4:53 PM UTC
Lady In Red 2
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
Xanthic Flowers
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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39
Heels harder than steel Sharper still In his heart Smooth arks Curves looping Strong desires Cutting loose Weak restraints Through frail defenses His achilles heel A separate entity Embodied in the shape Of a fallen angel Insatiably inviting The arrows of Apollo Choosing carefully Her Paris-es
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC
Soft Spot
(2 PM) I've been insatiably numb for a while. it's hard to admit that, being this codependent is like being on trial. Vulnerability is not my forte and breaking your heart wasn't the Right way to tell you, (2 AM) that I've been listening to your voicemails from when we were Seventeen with nothing but Dreams. now all we have is a few Conversations that never happened. 'I miss you' I miss you more 'I love you' I always will If you feel broken, imagine pouring the poison.
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Old Lace
If I? Were ignoring, then what am I? Seeing, being or not!! My actions reflect clearly the stomping vote cast with feats trodden in not ignoring you and your's truly or being okay with that. I don't believe you are or would be either if our treatment of one another mete with our true knowing and longings. So clouded then is our vision upon ourselves then cast upon the other sadly. I can't really say I know where that is at. Climbing mountains together in need then casting the other down. Is there a point made in defending oneself to false accusations but to fuel momentum of the insatiably most needy. Or do you prefer a simple warm heart and hands for touch in reaching!!! I don't know why you say goodbye, B+H I say hello!!!     LOOK O                                                                                                                                  S E  E                                           U                                                                                                                      S      L                                                T                                                                                                                       L                                                                                                                                                                             O                                                                                                                                                                                  W                                                                                                                                                                              E                                                                                                                                                                              E                                                                                                                                                                              P                                                                                                                                                                              S
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
Hell'o
If I? Were ignoring, then what am I? Seeing, being or not!! My actions reflect clearly the stomping vote cast with feats trodden in not ignoring you and your's truly or being okay with that. I don't believe you are or would be either if our treatment of one another mete with our true knowing and longings. So clouded then is our vision upon ourselves then cast upon the other sadly. I can't really say I know where that is at. Climbing mountains together in need then casting the other down. Is there a point made in defending oneself to false accusations but to fuel momentum of the insatiably most needy. Or do you prefer a simple warm heart and hands for touch in reaching!!! I don't know why you say goodbye, B+H I say hello!!!     LOOK O                                                                                                                                  S E  E                                           U                                                                                                                      S      L                                                T                                                                                                                       L                                                                                                                                                                             O                                                                                                                                                                                  W                                                                                                                                                                              E                                                                                                                                                                              E                                                                                                                                                                              P                                                                                                                                                                              S
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21
the dew of some mornings is a thing which is not unlike the kind nuisance of my lady's graceless feeble miraculous fingers. who are not unlike the starting end of day where **** and silent and hulking quiet tremble viscous muscles of pure unlight, teeming with wondrous gleaming follicles, pimpling the evenings tummy lapped with luna's rapid fortunate tongue. the chittering globs of arms waxing ferocious. in climbing steeply valleys feet middle in strange streams. the common streams. the unerring crooked and corpulent streams. in there, between between, 1and1 (you and i) our ventricles beat insatiably voluminous leaves. from trees of amorous fruit bearing fronds slapping silence(whileWeBeneathThemIntoEachOthersMe'sDepositSlushyViteWeWeremore than god's unfound children returning into the cherished cherry red steaming glue of our very and very clanGlorious howls repeatedly again angain andgain and gain: an earth wholly more to the liking of "which is not unlike us") 1 ! I:,.
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Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 11:04 PM UTC
the dew of some mornings
Love. Love is. Evermore. Love is always. Undeniably, Indefatigably, Indescribably, Insatiably, Forever. Always. Is. Love. Love lasts. Tirelessly. Love is always. Unconquerably, Indeterminately, Imperviously, Inscrutably, Immortal. Always. Lasts. Love. Love lives. Timelessly. Love is always. Interminably, Interconnectedly, Independently, Incredibly, Infinite. Always. Lives.
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Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC
Love Is. Always.
Alone I walk an unpredictable trail, Mind racing analyzing all the ways I fail. Feeling that the surrounding reality stands still, As if everything surrounding me attacks at their will, Alone with nature’s vitality, separated by the emotions we feel. Perceptions of life’s purpose is to endure the suffering, Pain brings the opportunity of a lesson, Student of life, searching for knowledge insatiably. Empathy, gratitude, a positive attitude, Clear cut path to humbling, a fractured ego, Comfort is an illusion, primary emotions a placebo. Obstacles on the trail... rivers, fallen trees and stones, No one here to utter words capable of breaking bones. Language more powerful than the Manhattan project, Weaponized communication formulated without logic. Living through our actions, dangerous words become silent, Respected for our effort, Results of an ego no longer defiant. Shrouded in chaos no absolute truth, Awareness resides with a present mind. Accepting of spaces magnificent design, New moments present an opportunity to own. Anxiety provoked mind crippled in fear, Trust the process then your path will be clear. Darkness sheds a light in the end, Growth is in the shadows, humanities path to ascend.
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Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 2:34 PM UTC
Trail of Ascendence
Sanity wanes and I do not know what it is I honestly need to avoid hours like this That familiar static rings insatiably in my ear and the lights turn on I walk the wrong hall afraid and tired to push myself through sounds and sights that blind and deafen and can't be handled by a person as weak as I And I am aware consciously to all the truth I spill Does hate feel better here? I used to not hate let alone literally feel THE LONGER I STAY, THE LONGER I'M LIKELY TO STAY HERE
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Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Time of Instance
SITTING, staring patiently debating taking silent leave to heave my bones toward reprieve and shake off all that's shaking me. SITTING, staring patiently I see the demon's point in me. I see it shine, I see it weep, and see it when I go to sleep, LAYING, waiting patiently. Horribly, these foggy dreams do less to please than psyche needs. I feel a presence gazing me. LYING, waiting anxiously. Now here it is debasingly teasing me insatiably, promising my every need: LYING, hiding everything. What do we call this foul disease? This object overtaking me? A spoon and needle ****** me. LOSING, hiding everything.
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Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
Sitting Laying Lying Losing
stage life... is so complicated they'll confiscate it your eyes will summit their stocks will plummet stage life... is an oxymoron you'll labor for em your body's numb, once stitched seams come undone lick your finger.............                      wine rims sing about it lick your finger.............                      counter to clockwise flow lick your finger.............                     add your liquidity lick your finger.............                     finer tuned frequencies lick your finger.............                    consume their recipe lick your finger.............                    won't find harmony lick your finger.............                    blood soaked oath's decrees stage fright... it comes in droves watches all your moves ebbs and flows cautiously, write about it cannot hide, darkest hours insatiably, desired thirst tie dye shirts, passion's curse drink whiskey, pour a cup no replies , it's all ****** up.
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Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 11:59 PM UTC
EBBS & flows
i need to get out. out. but do you know that it´s that conversation that keeps me captive? you don’t. and i mean, how could you? when you were right: about not being meant to be. & a part of me hates that phrase. meant to be? i mean i believe there could be many ‘meant to be’ relationships. maybe “ours” wasn’t one.   but your. choice. of words. your method of saying. or not saying. really? agreeing with me? when you know that that is never ever a way of telling someone. i may be crazy. but i am not that kind of crazy. & bringing the opinions of your friends in? huh. i guess you did go there. i’m the kind of crazy that cries, but doesn’t stalk insatiably. the crazy that has past pain, but does not use it to manipulate. the crazy that gets hurt, & clearly the kind that drives you away. i liked you despite your difficulties. & i know you didn’t owe me anything like that, because ultimately it was your choice. but it did hurt what you said. i liked you because you seemed so much more different than those who would tell you i am crazy. but maybe not. when i said that other people would see me as “a crazy b*tch”, i never said that i thought that about me. but by confirming that’s what your friends would say, & by making me feel i was? maybe it was for the best. this is the part where you would say that that is what i felt & not what you said or did. that i can’t blame you. i know that. & i am not thinking you are the bad guy. quite the opposite actually. i just know that anyone who makes me feel that way whether it be intentional, unintentional, or simply coincidental, it’s a feeling that doesn’t go away easily & that when they make me feel like that, i need to reconsider my distance. & how could you have known that that is how i felt? well, you aren’t stupid, & you could see that i was hurting, & you know the decent thing to do. it may be my fault for feeling that way when that wasn’t your intention (?), but i did feel that way, & i never wish that upon anyone (it crushes your soul, just a little bit each time you think of it). & i most definitely have never been in the situation where someone would feel like that after the words i had said or not said.
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Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
crazy.
i need to get out. out. but do you know that it´s that conversation that keeps me captive? you don’t. and i mean, how could you? when you were right: about not being meant to be. & a part of me hates that phrase. meant to be? i mean i believe there could be many ‘meant to be’ relationships. maybe “ours” wasn’t one.   but your. choice. of words. your method of saying. or not saying. really? agreeing with me? when you know that that is never ever a way of telling someone. i may be crazy. but i am not that kind of crazy. & bringing the opinions of your friends in? huh. i guess you did go there. i’m the kind of crazy that cries, but doesn’t stalk insatiably. the crazy that has past pain, but does not use it to manipulate. the crazy that gets hurt, & clearly the kind that drives you away. i liked you despite your difficulties. & i know you didn’t owe me anything like that, because ultimately it was your choice. but it did hurt what you said. i liked you because you seemed so much more different than those who would tell you i am crazy. but maybe not. when i said that other people would see me as “a crazy b*tch”, i never said that i thought that about me. but by confirming that’s what your friends would say, & by making me feel i was? maybe it was for the best. this is the part where you would say that that is what i felt & not what you said or did. that i can’t blame you. i know that. & i am not thinking you are the bad guy. quite the opposite actually. i just know that anyone who makes me feel that way whether it be intentional, unintentional, or simply coincidental, it’s a feeling that doesn’t go away easily & that when they make me feel like that, i need to reconsider my distance. & how could you have known that that is how i felt? well, you aren’t stupid, & you could see that i was hurting, & you know the decent thing to do. it may be my fault for feeling that way when that wasn’t your intention (?), but i did feel that way, & i never wish that upon anyone (it crushes your soul, just a little bit each time you think of it). & i most definitely have never been in the situation where someone would feel like that after the words i had said or not said.
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