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"insufferably" poems
Life is a writhing swirl who's information is meaningful but the information does not exist for the purpose of being comprehended so it is only taken in and interpreted as well or as usefully as the perceptive devices. Nothing significant has a vendetta against the individual beings' happiness or success, though beings may appear as food or some other form of fulfillment to other beings. Beings will view other beings as their appetites would view any other thing. No one can exist in the view of another. Don't expect others to view you as you do. You are NOT their center, only your own. Everybody thinks everybody else is insufferably selfish and everybody is right. Love is interesting though. More on that after more data is collected.
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
Field Notes after years among animals, plants, bacteria, viruses, and fungi
Took the bus home. Paid my $2.50, no special discount. Spent my day selling my wares, But did not sell enough to Pay the daily rent, Hell, to even pay for lunch. Gave up my seat for sweet, Baby-child laughed at my Gallantry, I think, For his exclamations were Of the shrieking pleasurable variety. Saw Macbeth last night, In the end, he dies, Same as when I saw it Last year. Le plus ca change The Frenchies say, Wonder if they still wear berets And say "Le Weekend?" In the winter, The buses are overheated, So winter coats become furnaces. I am rendered, Ash and smoke. Nothing new there too. Missed my stop Writing this, Happened before, Hope it happens again. Came  home to the customary What's new, So I said Not too much But, Somebody decided that ole Poem I wrote two years on, Should be the Poem of the Day. That's sweet, my love , You surely will be Insufferably happy and Impossible to live with for at least the next five minutes. So take the trash out, Before we leave, Then pick a place to dine, For not a thing in the fridge to eat. So to the compactor, I strode, thinking Shakespeare Didn't have to do this, I'll bet, But started smiling, Ear to ear, A ***** eating Big ole Grinning, Nonetheless! Thinking, The question is, How does it feel, This poem of the day Accolade, The answer, of course! It feels, like, I am, I am just like {you, man}
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
the question you'll ask yourself, sooner or later.
I am unaffected now, I just want to go on it doesn't matter to me if to you it seems I've forgone All I want to say is, I am game, I am alive just bring it on. After falling insufferably and getting up invincibly I don't call myself strong cause that would be wrong **I am just fearless so I dream of flying featherless.**
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Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
Nirbhayi: Fearless
Human Love, When you come to eat the rations of my heart, remember, then, that starving is an art; that to consume would be to kill--a crime; that to exhume this cherry seed of mine will drain me of a blood as thin as grape juice; that in time, I will mourn my stolen-raped fruit. -Ocean             ------ Ocean, You speak unto your seedling self, child. You are weak--we are weak.  No mild measure of halfway self-control can live in mental habitat which exists to give and only to give.  Your fluids will seep and you'll be unable even to weep. -Earth             --- Obtuse Earth, Stop your assaulting me with these words. Stop your quiet screaming, this dirge which comes under guise of gentility-- insufferably loud, however creatively. I never addressed you, ugly whisperer. I never addressed you, nuissance, stranger. -Ocean             --- Stubborn Ocean, Do not be foolish!  Listen, girl. Spurn him now with resolve; lest how can dignity you preserve in any small amount?  He doesn't love you at all. And knowing that, you gave me address: indeed, you have addressed yourself. -Earth             ------ Love, Were that I could say it's so, I would not give this room to grow. But oh, if I do hold it back then infinitely I should retract into myself.  So speak or speak not, but if so, speak now, for I am distraught. -Ocean
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Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
Letters Between Selves
In this drafty bedside cavern I lay with my feet up against the wall tap tap tap Held up over my hard head Resting against the hard ground Back here, where my pillow is my headstone This palace is a burden, Utterly insufferably forgiving. Fantasy hits the ceiling A dream shot from my mind CRACK Moonlight shines through the cave's newborn fissures Useless to me Uselessly groveling under shadowy sheets of sky   I need this sterile fluorescent light. It dances across my face pitter patter pitter patter It drops into my eyes, Falls into the chasm between my lips Cold and reeking of rot Cold and tasting of an invasive species of mildew I swallow, choking back tears I eat it It eats back.
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Feb 12, 2024
Feb 12, 2024 at 7:38 PM UTC
Wallow Wallow Wallow
I have a lot of insecurities and self doubt There are a lot of things that I don’t particularly love about myself The way that I would second guess most of the decisions I made The way that I used to prowl about, and devour every man that made me feel like a ********** without pay I often times sit and ponder about how insufferably rich I could have been, if only I had been using my ****** head These insecurities and self doubt, They live in me like the blood that pumps through my veins It’s not as though I've lost my pride Or the emptiness I feel deep inside It’s like a blade, without the sharp tip plunging into my heart And the tears swirl beautifully down the drain disappearing, and turning into a drought A river bled dry, of all it's renowned glory and distasteful self perpetuating doubt The fruits of my labor are not regrets that I wish to take back Rather lessons that I've learned While stumbling along the wrong side of the tracks © 2013 Christina Jackson
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
The old and bitter truth
A husband -> a wronged wife "My dear take a chair Your affair is unfair I can't stand A suffocating air This way you and I Could no longer continue A loving pair Soon to my parents I must repair! How come for love of a **** A marital vow You thwart? " This way since You decided me desert For what I did spurred By transient lust Chagrin my soul has hit. As usual in deep slumber When I extend my hand To ascertain whether You have slept sound And stir you up So as we sleep entwined Yet get awake to a tragedy stark That I but draw a blank My heart indeed Incessantly bleed From the loss it incurred Your obeisance and love divested. If you can't find it in your heart My folly to forget Forgive me my dear For without you near My life turns insufferably sour. A wronged wife—>A husband After your body you befouled And proved a down to earth cad, After your spirits perfidy you debased Impudently you demand As before I should you hold An esteemed husband. Indeed this I will not! For rancor laden my heart Bleed incessant It mustn't! Away to my parents I fled For you failed to abscond After what you did. 'Once bitten twice shy' Forgive you how could I? A husband—>A wronged wife Your forgiveness but Nothing depurate The blot In your eyes Down me brought. I hope Forgiveness is the least Your impeccable heart Me could grant. Even the ocean of tears I wept Whitewash me still not My dear there is a second Man goes wild And commits a deed He condemns absurd, My perfidy to nothing but To this folly could be imputed. Man is prone to err So you should consider What matters is his bid Improprieties away to clear. So my dear Give me a chance second To prove, you loving husband. Your forgiveness will be a credit That surely you catapult To ensconce In the apex of my heart. A forgiving personality Is a virtuous quality Besides your heart Me 'love' that taught Which is also on me soft Won't follow a policy Watertight and Once for all me smite A wronged wife—>A husband Raving ans volleying Boisterousness nay, nay! You stultify Must not I. My mind is bedeviled Since you I missed. On your misdemeanor Brood I shall no more To night Come to the cathedral We first met As a jump-start Together out We have to spend the night. The night's Zephyr wet Will wipe away Our disagreement!
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Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Duel Of Hearts
A husband -> a wronged wife "My dear take a chair Your affair is unfair I can't stand A suffocating air This way you and I Could no longer continue A loving pair Soon to my parents I must repair! How come for love of a **** A marital vow You thwart? " This way since You decided me desert For what I did spurred By transient lust Chagrin my soul has hit. As usual in deep slumber When I extend my hand To ascertain whether You have slept sound And stir you up So as we sleep entwined Yet get awake to a tragedy stark That I but draw a blank My heart indeed Incessantly bleed From the loss it incurred Your obeisance and love divested. If you can't find it in your heart My folly to forget Forgive me my dear For without you near My life turns insufferably sour. A wronged wife—>A husband After your body you befouled And proved a down to earth cad, After your spirits perfidy you debased Impudently you demand As before I should you hold An esteemed husband. Indeed this I will not! For rancor laden my heart Bleed incessant It mustn't! Away to my parents I fled For you failed to abscond After what you did. 'Once bitten twice shy' Forgive you how could I? A husband—>A wronged wife Your forgiveness but Nothing depurate The blot In your eyes Down me brought. I hope Forgiveness is the least Your impeccable heart Me could grant. Even the ocean of tears I wept Whitewash me still not My dear there is a second Man goes wild And commits a deed He condemns absurd, My perfidy to nothing but To this folly could be imputed. Man is prone to err So you should consider What matters is his bid Improprieties away to clear. So my dear Give me a chance second To prove, you loving husband. Your forgiveness will be a credit That surely you catapult To ensconce In the apex of my heart. A forgiving personality Is a virtuous quality Besides your heart Me 'love' that taught Which is also on me soft Won't follow a policy Watertight and Once for all me smite A wronged wife—>A husband Raving ans volleying Boisterousness nay, nay! You stultify Must not I. My mind is bedeviled Since you I missed. On your misdemeanor Brood I shall no more To night Come to the cathedral We first met As a jump-start Together out We have to spend the night. The night's Zephyr wet Will wipe away Our disagreement!
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107
The most beautiful maiden Bears dismal mannerisms That are perpetually incurable. The most inviting thing About a spiritless ****** Is the inexorable flame In her eyes. She fondles her necklace And closes her eyes and Swears not to smile. She says, “This one is fatal, and Forever. I will not be saved,” Calmly and remains lull. Why is it that The most memorable romance Is a crumbled heart that cannot be fixed, But cannot be forgotten and It is insufferably brutal But it is a flower to the eyes. An enormous negation, Yet pure substantiation, A correct falsehood. So swollen and senseless, A crumpled letter She fingers with those perfect hands That she reads over and over But it never makes any sense.
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Jan 5, 2010
Jan 5, 2010 at 12:36 AM UTC
Tracy
I walk between life and death, The hours when the days are like Stakes to the nocturnal heart. And I know a walk among tombstones Is a like a fresh death when the earth Is covered with scarlet and scenic Flowers, I can already write my death on The slab as clearly as I see the onset Of the dusk upon my sun. And I know to be dead is but another Interminable word, Like the carnival rides of my childhood, Lost in a crowd but thrillingly unknown. Tonight the stars speak a hope In a new year, and all the years disappear like Geese to the North, Like Gnarls of teeth locked in a mongrels Cry behind enclosed yards. I am ready to die, But instead I will write death and Write a verse to make one think One knows the true beauty of life, Like the insufferably brilliant Deaths of heroes told in myth And legend, A dissolved illusion to the real illustration Caught between worlds of perceptions. I see death on a dance floor, A psalm sung and written by me As my soul whirls the words in spectral Atoms and lost in the momentary Eternity. And I remember I'm a just a man With Latin blood spitting From the womb of my mother. And I am on the same side as my heart, The hourglass fades, The brutal eyes of truth facing me, Fierce and unredeeming, I dance with death, And there is nothing I can do now. I have nothing to prove I was here, Except the poem And even the words will fade. Except the song I wrote for death, It plays over and over And death dances eternal.
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
To Be A Dead Poet...
Do not give me reason to haunt your mind For I will dig and dredge up what I can find Turning it back on your placid core Non sequitur alliterations a lit alit alittle more    FOR I AM NOTORIOUS So, do not doubt my ability to route You... from your sanctimonious intransigency To push and pull you into a corner where You never thought you would be      FOR I AM INSUFFERABLY NOTORIOUS Should I find you neglect to collect the pieces you discard I will indeed ... ...far exceed the need...you plead so hard to accede    FOR I AM AMBIVALENTLY NOTORIOUS        AND INSUFFERABLE Any abuse necessary to waylay any excuse You choose to use In order to... ...cling To your inner sanctum Will i infuse..as I Resort to retort By waxing Perspicaciously panegyric Upon your very being In order to inspire..desire With any and all necessary Encomiastic encomium So as to create higher aspirations For I am notoriously cruel and inspiring As I push one to the brink Because....one way or another.. One way or another I will.... .. Whatever it takes I will... Make you think! FOR I AM.... NOTORIOUS!
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Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
Notorious
The darkness is taking over me eradicating herself within the valley of my being slowly burning away the garden my guardians cared for centuries Nights are getting insufferably longer more so when there's no starry sky Clouds are accumulating all around as ivy thoughts that drown the grace within Do I stand to all facing the adversity me, myself, I have harbored Even if that means looking at a mirror Embracing the thought of me becoming my own worst fear If doing that means flowers will blossom again Bring the black mirror and along, my golden hammer for I will tear this witch down even if it means wrenching my soul away
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May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Wrenching my soul
*Twenty three years; A short life lived. The day I die inside little by little. The older I become the more I resent life for being insufferably calloused and bruised. The pills, the billowing clouds of cigarette smoke radiating through the air; The sweet intoxicating smell of liquor. Pearls before swine. No longer does it make me feel as though I'm part of another. Life gets the best of us, age is just a number we all seem to succumb. And nothing is enough. 2014 Christina Jackson*
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
Long live and prosper
I I taste it daily. The salt of consequence on the side of my tongue, Burning my mouth. Punishing me. Love is lost. Shallow and low, Like a pool of water Two feet deep, Predictable and **** flavored. I taste every answer before it’s heard. But I deny it just the same. I dig for the unpredictable. Muddying my hands in search of A new flavor. Drunk as I am at 4 in the morning, I ask for an answer that I’ve already tasted, Hoping to be surprised. I’m not. I’m given an answer that I already know. But I pursue it just the same. I send poems to lost loves, Knowing they won’t answer, But I do it just the same. I find myself alone. I’ve accepted it. But I crave companionship, Just the same. Like the grass in my pipe. I crave it. Love it. But it kills me. II Don’t make it awkward. Don’t say it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t say it. Don’t make it awkward. You already know, I say. No I don’t, She says. She’s lying I know it. I taste it. She lives in bliss. I live in fire. Don’t say it. Don’t make it awkward. I don’t know. She says this to dampen a blow That I won’t feel. I’ve felt it too many times. Maybe she didn’t know. III I’ve lost the sense of caring, I say it just to say it. Knowing the answer. Just to see what happens. And again I’m forced to move on. To know that it’s unreciprocated As it so often seems to be. Insufferably predictable. Six months I knew, Yet I hoped to be surprised. IV Somehow, Confidence remains, Or perhaps it was born. Resilient as the day it fell out of the womb. Unphased by negative response, Simply frustrated, Urged to move forward and brush off the needles Poking at its chest and temples and tongue. How can a heart die if it has already been pierced? V I’ll keep digging, Searching for a new flavor Until something sweet sticks. Until some light shines through the cracks. I’ll make it awkward. I’ll make it weird. I’ve been pierced enough. I’ve been numbed long enough. Stab me again. Try it. Pick a vein. Try it. I hope to feel it. I want to feel it. VI True sadness Is something that can’t be described. For some, Fresh and temporary. Others, Old and rooted. Experienced in different ways Left to ferment Through a curious cathartic flavor of isolation. I’ve fallen into that deep void before. Seeking companionship where there is none. Only to be stabbed in a living heart, countless times Until it finally stopped beating.
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Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
3:34 A.M.
I I taste it daily. The salt of consequence on the side of my tongue, Burning my mouth. Punishing me. Love is lost. Shallow and low, Like a pool of water Two feet deep, Predictable and **** flavored. I taste every answer before it’s heard. But I deny it just the same. I dig for the unpredictable. Muddying my hands in search of A new flavor. Drunk as I am at 4 in the morning, I ask for an answer that I’ve already tasted, Hoping to be surprised. I’m not. I’m given an answer that I already know. But I pursue it just the same. I send poems to lost loves, Knowing they won’t answer, But I do it just the same. I find myself alone. I’ve accepted it. But I crave companionship, Just the same. Like the grass in my pipe. I crave it. Love it. But it kills me. II Don’t make it awkward. Don’t say it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t say it. Don’t make it awkward. You already know, I say. No I don’t, She says. She’s lying I know it. I taste it. She lives in bliss. I live in fire. Don’t say it. Don’t make it awkward. I don’t know. She says this to dampen a blow That I won’t feel. I’ve felt it too many times. Maybe she didn’t know. III I’ve lost the sense of caring, I say it just to say it. Knowing the answer. Just to see what happens. And again I’m forced to move on. To know that it’s unreciprocated As it so often seems to be. Insufferably predictable. Six months I knew, Yet I hoped to be surprised. IV Somehow, Confidence remains, Or perhaps it was born. Resilient as the day it fell out of the womb. Unphased by negative response, Simply frustrated, Urged to move forward and brush off the needles Poking at its chest and temples and tongue. How can a heart die if it has already been pierced? V I’ll keep digging, Searching for a new flavor Until something sweet sticks. Until some light shines through the cracks. I’ll make it awkward. I’ll make it weird. I’ve been pierced enough. I’ve been numbed long enough. Stab me again. Try it. Pick a vein. Try it. I hope to feel it. I want to feel it. VI True sadness Is something that can’t be described. For some, Fresh and temporary. Others, Old and rooted. Experienced in different ways Left to ferment Through a curious cathartic flavor of isolation. I’ve fallen into that deep void before. Seeking companionship where there is none. Only to be stabbed in a living heart, countless times Until it finally stopped beating.
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106
I have given up On yelling at the sky The sky has probably given up on me too. The answers must not be in the sky. It seems I have been wrong for the entirety of my life. It could be that the answers are on the ground. Amongst the grass, simply suffocated by the dirt, My answers insufferably whispered by the tiny creatures. But I hate insects. I don’t like dirt. And grass makes me itch.
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Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Crying Uncle
you’re not used to this is how you testify? woe to thee who asked for ease to be denied! since you’re better than others and cannot believe otherwise i have no sympathy if that’s your reply i don’t care if you’re levitating insufferably high everyone deserves respect regardless of how stratified kindness isn’t stupid, it’s beautifully dignified if you can’t see that then you’re unqualified to be of those I declare compassionately legitimized if you were truly great you wouldn’t resort to abuses you’d be who you are no matter how many uses and while i believe in doing what one so reasonably chooses my sympathies are immune to your pompous excuses
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 9:27 PM UTC
excuses
Anxiety washes over me, As I tried to open my heart. Blurting out vague messages, Laying my feelings bare, Insanity flows through me. Vicious thoughts consume me. Gambling my heart out, I try to fall in love once more. And you reminded me, Amidst my rose colored eyes, I was really destined to be alone. Reality woke my tired soul. Loneliness is indeed my own. Alone in this barren field, Anchored deep in the sea, Beached on a deserted island, Left out in the winter cold, Incapacitated and left longing, Voracious vultures are waiting, Gangrene eating me alive, Intoxicated by hope and love, Abhorring every second passing, Alienating this deep void, Insufferably waiting for you, Running in circles in my mind, Leaving reality behind once more. Answer me! Admonish me! Betray me! Leave me! Invalidate me! Vilify me! Gouge my heart out! Ignite my soul! Agony sets in… Amorphous images… Illuminate me! Read my heart. Love me, please. Impending doom looms, My heart won’t beat. Silence takes over me. Our time comes to a close. Riveting emotions settle. Regaining my composure, You smiled at me.
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Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 12:37 AM UTC
"You Reminded Me"
*It lives inside of me; eating away at the most important parts of me. To bear life, would be a rare commodity. I cannot turn death into life These dying cells inside of me, they keep breaking apart, yet multiplying at the same time. As frightening as it seems; I do not fear death, but welcome it as an old friend. Death knows what's right and what's wrong. There comes a time when death is insufferably wrong. Sometimes, death gets it wrong- Other times, incredibly right. However, not often or rarely at all. I am not going to fight, nor fuss or try and figure out the cause- It is what it is and I won't regret the life I have lived thus far. © 2014 Christina Jackson*
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Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
The fruit that does not grow