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"intersect" poems
Slowly unfold, as you fold into me. Two explosions that explode imploding our senses with sensory overload too intersections that intersect invisible connected through connectivity magnetized magnetically galvanized genetically when energized this pleasure is derived riveting her visibly I convulse as you implode Extinguishing our misery With pleasure beyond measure Thirst quenched physically satisfied, apparently.
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
Implosion
Dope, money, and hoes [x9] [Verse 1: Da$h] Ain't write it, thought of this when I was drunk driving Like I had a license, been swerving through the intersect Just to make the ******* wet, breakfast: yac and cigarettes Feds about the only threat, spit nasty like my throat is strep She working at the pyramid, shake her **** for some bucks from Tut Pharaoh to the marrow, Cleopatra roll my dutch Dour blunts they double stuffed, got a ***** stupid chopped Used to squad these faggots' wives, the ******* that I used to pop Wear the **** I used to cop, respect your elders lil ***** Ain't even of age to drink, I get your ** to buy me liquor 'Linquent **** I live for it, they tryin but might die for it These drugs got my brain, money got my mind finding fun in crime ******* love my rhymes, to be honest I love their mouth at campuses Looking for talents just like I'm a college scout Ask her what she shout, I’m ashin' her on the ******* couch [Verse 2: Da$h] Dope, money, and hoes, getting dope money from shows She sniff her coke then she blow, **** it, I don’t judge it though Sugar free, no love for sure, just put 'em on Sepulveda Benefits and bank rolls, all a ***** really want from her And when she bring it back, call my brother hit the trap Invested in a couple packs, will probably see a couple stacks from what he talkin Money hulking like Bruce Banner Panarama day dreaming, While she downin' my ***** on camera Life's in action, piping, smashing whatever you call it Smoke a 'Port and I'm off but they ******* think I lost it And my dog facing blunts while I feed my pups bath salts Infiltrate my castle, take your face like it's a mask boss Pass raw flesh and bone, money long like small intestines Homes I'm taking breakfast, long as getting checks involved H´z ***** Cause if you ain't know, AraabMuzik
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Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Dope, Money, and Hoes
Dope, money, and hoes [x9] [Verse 1: Da$h] Ain't write it, thought of this when I was drunk driving Like I had a license, been swerving through the intersect Just to make the ******* wet, breakfast: yac and cigarettes Feds about the only threat, spit nasty like my throat is strep She working at the pyramid, shake her **** for some bucks from Tut Pharaoh to the marrow, Cleopatra roll my dutch Dour blunts they double stuffed, got a ***** stupid chopped Used to squad these faggots' wives, the ******* that I used to pop Wear the **** I used to cop, respect your elders lil ***** Ain't even of age to drink, I get your ** to buy me liquor 'Linquent **** I live for it, they tryin but might die for it These drugs got my brain, money got my mind finding fun in crime ******* love my rhymes, to be honest I love their mouth at campuses Looking for talents just like I'm a college scout Ask her what she shout, I’m ashin' her on the ******* couch [Verse 2: Da$h] Dope, money, and hoes, getting dope money from shows She sniff her coke then she blow, **** it, I don’t judge it though Sugar free, no love for sure, just put 'em on Sepulveda Benefits and bank rolls, all a ***** really want from her And when she bring it back, call my brother hit the trap Invested in a couple packs, will probably see a couple stacks from what he talkin Money hulking like Bruce Banner Panarama day dreaming, While she downin' my ***** on camera Life's in action, piping, smashing whatever you call it Smoke a 'Port and I'm off but they ******* think I lost it And my dog facing blunts while I feed my pups bath salts Infiltrate my castle, take your face like it's a mask boss Pass raw flesh and bone, money long like small intestines Homes I'm taking breakfast, long as getting checks involved H´z ***** Cause if you ain't know, AraabMuzik
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33
We find multiple ways to disconnect Where business and technology intersect We kick one another for cash When we need equilibrium for our economy Our morals disintegrate to ash And we trade away our autonomy But we don't dare reflect Instead we disconnect We turn people into symbols and numbers So we can more comfortably slumber After causing heartbreaking pain Through bureaucratic chains Because face to face Our heart will race And we'll examine our submerged morals That lie in the depths with the coral But our reflection is too much to bear So we cowardly choose not to care The only way we can feel ecstatic Is to turn people into demographics The Internet connects us But also satisfies lust And imitates human contact Which has a negative impact The feeling leaves us sated And we don't feel the need to change Our armor becomes plated And we shoot arrows from long range Because we don't like the idea of being one another We get used to the idea of not seeing one another We disconnect so we don't have to try We disconnect so we can slowly die The ****** disconnection continues As we find more violent avenues We utilize fatal instruments To ****** without the sense Of physically feeling The life we're stealing We stabbed one another with swords Until the bullets soared But we still needed more So we disconnected further And became satellite searchers Studying people through actions Defining them by faction We don't have any interest in their personality or flaws All we're concerned with is if they're breaking the law The law we wrote to tip the scales The law that makes us too big to fail A husband leaves his wife Disconnecting from her life She's left with a child To raise in the wild Until a drone drops a bomb On the struggling single mom She's not an investor So we'll just harvest her worthless life Who'll be her protector When she's near someone we don't like? We **** her from our computer That's the way we casually mute her We carefully cultivated a disconnect To treat one another like insects This mentality will infect Until we interject Once we finally reflect Love will connect
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Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC
Disconnect
We find multiple ways to disconnect Where business and technology intersect We kick one another for cash When we need equilibrium for our economy Our morals disintegrate to ash And we trade away our autonomy But we don't dare reflect Instead we disconnect We turn people into symbols and numbers So we can more comfortably slumber After causing heartbreaking pain Through bureaucratic chains Because face to face Our heart will race And we'll examine our submerged morals That lie in the depths with the coral But our reflection is too much to bear So we cowardly choose not to care The only way we can feel ecstatic Is to turn people into demographics The Internet connects us But also satisfies lust And imitates human contact Which has a negative impact The feeling leaves us sated And we don't feel the need to change Our armor becomes plated And we shoot arrows from long range Because we don't like the idea of being one another We get used to the idea of not seeing one another We disconnect so we don't have to try We disconnect so we can slowly die The ****** disconnection continues As we find more violent avenues We utilize fatal instruments To ****** without the sense Of physically feeling The life we're stealing We stabbed one another with swords Until the bullets soared But we still needed more So we disconnected further And became satellite searchers Studying people through actions Defining them by faction We don't have any interest in their personality or flaws All we're concerned with is if they're breaking the law The law we wrote to tip the scales The law that makes us too big to fail A husband leaves his wife Disconnecting from her life She's left with a child To raise in the wild Until a drone drops a bomb On the struggling single mom She's not an investor So we'll just harvest her worthless life Who'll be her protector When she's near someone we don't like? We **** her from our computer That's the way we casually mute her We carefully cultivated a disconnect To treat one another like insects This mentality will infect Until we interject Once we finally reflect Love will connect
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. *At the table of eternal sorrow sits a fool with a crooked smile, faking interest in a world obscene and feigning the mood of yesterwhile. Couched over bent with quill extended, he writes his heart with a bitter beat, floating in the mire of a memory stained, poised with nib to command the sheet. Capering words form across the weave with capricious intent and shadow play, smoke and mirrors intersect and disperse whilst his mind carries the story away.* © Pagan Paul (04/03/19)
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Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 7:00 AM UTC
Fool's Diary 1
I propose a painting, on a ground of white, a band of your favorite color, a band of mine. Should we arrange our stripes parallel, or should we direct them to intersect? Would the colors compliment or clash the other?
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Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 5:52 AM UTC
I propose a painting
You and me? He said, we're like parallel lines. Cursed to be apart forever, always just a little too far. But your slope is the same as mine, and even parallel lines meet at the horizon. So meet me at the horizon, my love. Reach across the gap between us and we can intersect where our fingers interlock. Be my point "b". I will meet you wherever you want to go. I might not be the "x" you've been looking for, but I'll always let you have the last piece of pi. We might seem a little irrational, but love is undefined even to this day. We're both a little odd, but together, I think we could be even; Even better than anything this world has seen. So help me test this theorem. Help me graph this line. Even if it's only a segment, it will be the most beautiful that I have ever seen.
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Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Meet me at the horizon
He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled, That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust. If we who sight along it round the world, See nothing worthy to have been its mark, It is because like men we look too near, Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, Our missiles always make too short an arc. They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect The curve of earth, and striking, break their own; They make us cringe for metal-point on stone. But this we know, the obstacle that checked And tripped the body, shot the spirit on Further than target ever showed or shone.
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5.2k
The Soldier
We are the same, tiny specks floating weightlessly in the abyss. We are the same, orbiting the sun but never moving forward, only in circles. We come from the same Constellation. From the same one heart in this universe but we are drifting. The gravitational pull of our childhood is weak and we are left grasping at falling stars. Burning up before we hit the ground. Absence of sound will send us spiraling down. black holes distributing us into galaxies that do not intersect. But only if we let it.
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Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Andromeda: The Sister Galaxy
promised you a new love poem every day till forever arrives, for it will until then to exhaust the crazy no limit ways to communicate how my love for you consumes my fragility, uncovering my core of strength, that is never exposed, but for/to you, but for/to you *my unidimensional surface unpierced, no one sees what you x-ray, and I fess willingly, with ease of mind, that my secrets are safe stored best within the borderless country where our ven diagrams of souls intersect with iron & steel & titanium ribboned lines of inviolate invisible pure white* *here I stop lest I die of  bursting, and yet I weep for us, for you,* no longer read my poetry
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Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 12:19 PM UTC
Marry Me (I am in love with you)
The stars once more have lost their race Through night-sky versus mercurial moon. In this defeat no dishonor will debase Futile efforts to intersect upon the lune. Desert scents of juniper and Mormon Tea Waft fragrant above the comfort fire smoke. Banana yucca roasting at my knee, Fleshy fruit consumption for us hungry folk. Nevada nights nip raw this time of year; Our lot is cast by glowing embers, Whose reflector stones essential to survival, Stave off cold that we need not fear Frostbite to peripheral members, Till sunlight returns with warmth's revival.
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Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
Mohave Comfort Fire
at the point of entry (explicit) it does not strike me strange at the point of entry when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge when the lust and the sweat intersect with ego desire and self is everlasting everything that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue when I pant poems born in rawness and tears on this the last day of the year and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire and the Maker whispers in both ears see! it is the see of what is me, it is the point of entry and departure, one and the same, conception an immaculate mess, the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright and the death of publication, my moment of privileged perfection passes and frowns and smiles are one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic, rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle: come, come inside me, I am the pleasure you are the treasure in one cup measured conjoined container when the point of entry is the point of departure and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer I see everything all at the same time, uttering: I am undone utterly and the difference between the end and the beginning can be seen only at the millisecond long seven decade coming point of entry 12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
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Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
at the (explicit) point of entry12/31
at the point of entry (explicit) it does not strike me strange at the point of entry when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge when the lust and the sweat intersect with ego desire and self is everlasting everything that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue when I pant poems born in rawness and tears on this the last day of the year and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire and the Maker whispers in both ears see! it is the see of what is me, it is the point of entry and departure, one and the same, conception an immaculate mess, the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright and the death of publication, my moment of privileged perfection passes and frowns and smiles are one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic, rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle: come, come inside me, I am the pleasure you are the treasure in one cup measured conjoined container when the point of entry is the point of departure and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer I see everything all at the same time, uttering: I am undone utterly and the difference between the end and the beginning can be seen only at the millisecond long seven decade coming point of entry 12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
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there was no poem neath my pillow no poem on my tongue, none from eye envisionaries, no dew gift from my grassy emissaries, parting residue of an unknowable finger touch nothing stirring, the mother muses mushing their shushing noises, only breathy quietude, an airy surround sound tissue, the cadence of intermingled hearts, the mother and the child two awakenings, one instantaneous, the other restless unhurried slow, but within an impatience to intersect, the overlap is love stars crossing, impatience weaponized to make momma aware her companions refreshed status, a needy for love’s suckling, embrace of fresh baked smiles from hot heartedly hearth furnaces thus a-born a new poem, a welcomed well coming, in words, the alliance of alliterated words from the interlacing of the mother’s chest heaving and the sniffling joy of a five year old boy reimagining the dreams that crossed from mother to son, and back again, requiring composition and joint authorship of them *the only and only true authentic authorship, mother and child, their owned unique duality of singularity*
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Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
There was no poem welcome neath my pillow (mother and child)
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say? Forget it—never mind, You wouldn’t understand anyway, Would you even know what it's like? Inside a scattered disconnected mind, Employed to go on strike? Where indirect misdirect The sincerity at play, When sinusoidal chaos spikes And past meets the future present day? As paranoid points outlandishly connect At intervals of broken lines, Memory lost in recollect, An array of misshaped bells Internally infect the eternal confines Of infinite distributional decay, Parallels with no intersect, Streetwise cells with empty signs, Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines, Littered all the way. How am I to convey that all those times You let your mind wander away That I was reading, thinking, dreaming, Teeming, never idle, never strayed, Seeing, being, so far and away, Even the brightest intellect beaming, Could not grasp the feeling In the slightest of highest orders reeling, Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming, Imperfect, even to the disarray Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict Could not predict the reflect, For in this world, seeing is deceiving, As the lamest reject, defect, Increasingly decreasing, In simplistic bliss obey Crowned unsound fallacies That contradict all meaning, Hiding behind reality, the actualities Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving, Let me stop you if I may... I must interject for I digress, What nonsense was I weaving? Forget it—I've lost my mind, I best be leaving, What more can I say? It's periodic I must confess, You probably don't care anyway, Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay, Until next time I guess, I wouldn't want to be misleading.
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May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
A Scattered Point
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say? Forget it—never mind, You wouldn’t understand anyway, Would you even know what it's like? Inside a scattered disconnected mind, Employed to go on strike? Where indirect misdirect The sincerity at play, When sinusoidal chaos spikes And past meets the future present day? As paranoid points outlandishly connect At intervals of broken lines, Memory lost in recollect, An array of misshaped bells Internally infect the eternal confines Of infinite distributional decay, Parallels with no intersect, Streetwise cells with empty signs, Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines, Littered all the way. How am I to convey that all those times You let your mind wander away That I was reading, thinking, dreaming, Teeming, never idle, never strayed, Seeing, being, so far and away, Even the brightest intellect beaming, Could not grasp the feeling In the slightest of highest orders reeling, Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming, Imperfect, even to the disarray Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict Could not predict the reflect, For in this world, seeing is deceiving, As the lamest reject, defect, Increasingly decreasing, In simplistic bliss obey Crowned unsound fallacies That contradict all meaning, Hiding behind reality, the actualities Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving, Let me stop you if I may... I must interject for I digress, What nonsense was I weaving? Forget it—I've lost my mind, I best be leaving, What more can I say? It's periodic I must confess, You probably don't care anyway, Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay, Until next time I guess, I wouldn't want to be misleading.
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I’ve seen genius so fixed on itself as to be monkeys, squealing wicked-itchy watching a record whirl in the same drugged circle 33 and a 1/3—circa 1969 This—their eternal brilliant conclusion their e=mc2 This—their Final Solution their inner-spring Their convoluted complexity as the hands of their clocks fly off, striking me in the face Alas! —the equation that would solve the mystery of whistling “Dixie” that would feed the dogs and “seize the day”! This penetrated groove This—track, eternally diminishing toward a point on a label at which two ***** intersect and then... ...cease to be....
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Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
Two College Students
your words exactly: "i believe our paths were meant "to intersect, "but not to sustain. "to touch, "but not to cling. "to meet, "but not to unite. " and i still love you, despite.
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Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
you said to me
I took a stroll down my childhood lane These neural pathways took me back Multilingual versions of the narrative Warned me of imminent attack I made it work for me my people Bedeviled on behalf of all my greater good I took my time in stride with sidewalks cracked And broke my swag along a scattered beach Came down with that viral capacity to fluctuate According to what gut feeling feeds heart pumping Where we intersect that jazz bebopper inhabiting art Draw outside the lines come together in stark contrast To the words we negotiate with each other in exchange For favors better left unpaid yet enacted cross-purpose To our intended lizard goal to wrap our prey entangled Tongued in the mail entreated globally galactic guardian I’d simply settle inside ambitious repose armed by you Draped across our gossamer webs wet commingled faces
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Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
Triple G Intersection
My smile may have faded But sometimes I feel it's too late It may never be seen as liberated. Yet there is always a second chance From the footsteps I've heard ever since I never may take a peek ahead And what it may seem to make me wince Is all just a second memory to be once again led If every hour is a different time And every second is a different matter What will it take to make this one time intersect With every minute that has made it up my ladder? Sometimes I feel like skipping each step But other times it's all just too much It may even feel like a free fall to another world So here I some with all there is to even take a clutch All there is to see and take a note of what I have read May be an understatement to which it has been locked But there's an easy timing to such greed overhead And I may not just yet want to take a key to foresee Yet here I come with all of this fantasy My smile may have faded But sometimes I feel it's too late It may never be seen as liberated. Yet there is always a second chance
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Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
Timing
Boolean Logic you say it isn't logical if it's not black or white it's either positive or negative either day or night can't be 6 of one half dozen of the other you know what I mean know what I'm sayin brother make up your mind just give me the truth don't wrap me in a cord in a telephone booth is it “A” or “B” it's gotta be part of a set I work with truths before I place my bet binary numbers that intersect ands or nots or or's it can be part of the superset the limbs of the tree true or false you just gotta decide algebraic notation proves if you lied could you be wrong could there be areas of gray in matters of love it's not just what you say sometimes it's what's missing that matters the most no salty or sweet like a piece of dry toast     is science perfect how the hell would I know can only go by the factors that show but I got this feeling it's more than neurologic in matters of the heart it takes more than boolean logic Gomer Lepoet
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Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 12:54 PM UTC
Boolean Logic
Feb. 2015 this writ, content so obvious, it begs, why even bother... Pen Man Ship this is who you are, this is your scent, scripted, the parfume that memory triggers declarative self-examination passing grades if pen and paper are your skin and blood, then you, man, ship to shore, skinned alive, in poems verbose spill all ship in ship out, the glories and the dreads, expel ink oceans glorious India blue, rivulets of tributaries, spillages of what~where, you are pen you are man you are ship where intersect these routed things, one is voyage~bound for parts unknown the pen be the oar, and the man, the ship, and when the sails raised, the wind never fails, only there is no dead reckoning - for there are no landmarks observable when sit~stand to commence sail~writing each writ a latitude recorded, each poem a longitude drawn, all together, a body of work, all together, your life's coursework is the captain's log Pen is the Man is the Ship in everyday words he answers the questions life poses, in everyday words, he realizes the answers he (doesn't) posses, with each passing poem the ship, righted, though the heading remans unknown
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
Pen Man Ship
two points hurling through the void both independent events happening to overlap just a moment thus I am content with a mere intersection of your plane with mine
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Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
Intersect
Subjugated by the Not-so-loyal subjects: Mind | Body | Spirit Incongruencies None knowing their place Poor leadership I'll bet I can mind my way to a better place Better try Plutocracy So I grant citizenship To my cunning and intellect It works but After a time vibrancy Fades So I call in Spirit In the spirit of Theocracy Spiritual matters prevail But I've forgotten to eat For two days So I give Body A seat at the table Now we have a democracy Or do we? Remnants of the Plutocracy Gave cunning a vote So we reorganize Into a meritocracy < - - 3 pools - - > Mind ~ Body ~ Spirit 3 votes Something still isn't working So I ruminate Think Pray Chastise And turn things upside Down A king should be subjugated The best leadership Is invisible A True leader Follows Their own path I (the person) am ground I am the intersect I am the crossroads for Mind ~ Body ~ Spirit I am the King And I Follow
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
Baffled King
Nice to see you again. Our paths were supposed to only intersect once. Yet here we are. You and me. Lost in a sea of other friends and volleyballs. Whenever we meet, it feels like I'm drowning. "Long time no see!" Or sea. There is always something vast and new to you - perhaps a hint of peanut brittle, or the slightest hints of sea salt just enough to keep me wondering. Or perhaps, keep me talking. You see those bright red Bang and Olufsen speakers in the corner - well they cost about five thousand US dollars. You see that cake broken open on the balcony floor - well that cost about a fraction of that. But you should have seen the look on Andrieu's face when they threw it at his face. Andrieu over there - well when I first tasted coach's angry spittle on my teeth, he was the only one brave enough to stick out his hand for me to shake. Nice to meet you, he said. "It's your lucky day." There's a mango cake coming. So maybe you ought to stick around.
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
Oh, Mango Cake
Good morning, Starshine You're a gift to this world I admire your generosity for others Sharing freely from your heart Your character inspires me I recognize the resolve in your values Challenging me to grow Your spirit calls me I thirst to know all of your secrets Both broken and healed Your energy moves me I crave your touch Addicted to the electricity it gives Your soul sees me I'm intoxicated by your words Dismantling my armor You're a beautiful creature I'm thankful to intersect your path Hopeful we can walk awhile
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Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
Starshine
~for r a/k/a rrr a/k/a woody~ “I will always remember you” raise you hand if honesty yet lives inside your muscle memory of brain, of heart, there is no one here who hasn’t uttered them fool lying words with difficulty we struggle to up raise faces and places, moments and images no longer mirrored within the frontmost places of our recollection, that searing then, itself scorched, lichen+moss covered, our greatest pains, pleasures sworn allegiances to these razored inflection points, now scoured by rusty hazes, and we wonder what has become of us, what we valued so to savor as forever memories, their names gray lady shrouded, and there is no internet site to aid in self-recovery, for our selfish selves have been altered, time, new loves, guilt and other stuff intersect with mind’s eyes and no mas- more synapses paths instant linkages I know you will vociferously argue but it is almost physical, our shame at losing them and ourselves, in the morass that time digs daily deeper for what grieves us is that losing as the end rushes to close our story, makes us pick up pen and finger scratch as best we can inside the lines on our faces that are/had proofs, witnesses, that once, we were there at the places, whose names are no longer mapped any where, so deep, no archivist’s submersible dare fathom those fathom’s darkest we would need to explore without the possibility that we might implode if we sunk so far to rip apart sea forests we knowingly, secret-planted to coverup her memory, the words spoken, the oaths and promises, we swore, for instance, simply by saying, “I will always remember you” p.s. and my self-shaming so great, that my asking for forgiveness is buried so fast, it may, not ever been real, just another fiction Jul  6th, 8:36 AM,
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Jul 7, 2023
Jul 7, 2023 at 6:42 AM UTC
“I will always remember you”
~for r a/k/a rrr a/k/a woody~ “I will always remember you” raise you hand if honesty yet lives inside your muscle memory of brain, of heart, there is no one here who hasn’t uttered them fool lying words with difficulty we struggle to up raise faces and places, moments and images no longer mirrored within the frontmost places of our recollection, that searing then, itself scorched, lichen+moss covered, our greatest pains, pleasures sworn allegiances to these razored inflection points, now scoured by rusty hazes, and we wonder what has become of us, what we valued so to savor as forever memories, their names gray lady shrouded, and there is no internet site to aid in self-recovery, for our selfish selves have been altered, time, new loves, guilt and other stuff intersect with mind’s eyes and no mas- more synapses paths instant linkages I know you will vociferously argue but it is almost physical, our shame at losing them and ourselves, in the morass that time digs daily deeper for what grieves us is that losing as the end rushes to close our story, makes us pick up pen and finger scratch as best we can inside the lines on our faces that are/had proofs, witnesses, that once, we were there at the places, whose names are no longer mapped any where, so deep, no archivist’s submersible dare fathom those fathom’s darkest we would need to explore without the possibility that we might implode if we sunk so far to rip apart sea forests we knowingly, secret-planted to coverup her memory, the words spoken, the oaths and promises, we swore, for instance, simply by saying, “I will always remember you” p.s. and my self-shaming so great, that my asking for forgiveness is buried so fast, it may, not ever been real, just another fiction Jul  6th, 8:36 AM,
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