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"intransigence" poems
In 1963 Mahalia prodded the good reverend... “tell them about the dream Martin” transfixed on a yonder time he recounted prophecies of a near future from a mountaintop he foretold a history of a people returned again to gardens of paradise thriving in friendly democratic soils overflowing with a colorful biodiversity governed and nurtured with a vibrant sunshine of divine justice welcoming all weary sojourners... from the pinnacle of a Birmingham jail cell Martin burst the bars with the clarion peel of a golden trumpet proclaiming the gospel of liberation to the wardens of unholy gulags “free yourselves” the horn emblazoned in streaking lightning across the sky cowed by prophetic truths of righteousness, shamed by lies the pride of arrogance bespeaks to placate the intransigence of dominion, we prayed the the walls of racism, bigotry, prejudice would tumble down as Martin lit the Battle of Jericho today our country’s profit driven gulags overflow with people of color as justice lingers on death row begging for a plea bargain of a life sentence in solitary confinement... from the ****** Sunday Bridge in Selma, Martin offered a prayer for peace, rebuking the dogs of war admonishing the tenders of blood thirsty machines to beat the gears of war into pruning hooks and plowshares advocates of peace hope to steer the plow across the battlefields of acrimony to sow rich seeds of reconciliation, planting new gardens where the rich yields of peace will be consumed by all God's children yet these gardens remain unplanted, untended and defiled by the machinery of war that churns churns, churns... Martin last dream occurred on a balcony in Memphis witnessing to the divinity of those considered untouchable after a hard days work collecting a city’s refuse he insisted all labor was worthy of dignity and the economic justice of a fair wage Martin looked squarely into the eye of the gun sights of those who thought differently he never blinked, he dreamed Martin formed his last testament to an angry nation yearning for the reconciliation of stability and peace, unmoved that it’s violence, exploitation and bigotry only stoke bonfires of acrimony and division, condemning the reprobate principality to the bleakness of a smoldering discontent and continued generations of recurring nightmares… Martin's dream continues in awakened hearts sojourning on Music Selection: Mahalia Jackson Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho MLK Day 2014 Oakland
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Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Martin Dreamed (WIP)
In 1963 Mahalia prodded the good reverend... “tell them about the dream Martin” transfixed on a yonder time he recounted prophecies of a near future from a mountaintop he foretold a history of a people returned again to gardens of paradise thriving in friendly democratic soils overflowing with a colorful biodiversity governed and nurtured with a vibrant sunshine of divine justice welcoming all weary sojourners... from the pinnacle of a Birmingham jail cell Martin burst the bars with the clarion peel of a golden trumpet proclaiming the gospel of liberation to the wardens of unholy gulags “free yourselves” the horn emblazoned in streaking lightning across the sky cowed by prophetic truths of righteousness, shamed by lies the pride of arrogance bespeaks to placate the intransigence of dominion, we prayed the the walls of racism, bigotry, prejudice would tumble down as Martin lit the Battle of Jericho today our country’s profit driven gulags overflow with people of color as justice lingers on death row begging for a plea bargain of a life sentence in solitary confinement... from the ****** Sunday Bridge in Selma, Martin offered a prayer for peace, rebuking the dogs of war admonishing the tenders of blood thirsty machines to beat the gears of war into pruning hooks and plowshares advocates of peace hope to steer the plow across the battlefields of acrimony to sow rich seeds of reconciliation, planting new gardens where the rich yields of peace will be consumed by all God's children yet these gardens remain unplanted, untended and defiled by the machinery of war that churns churns, churns... Martin last dream occurred on a balcony in Memphis witnessing to the divinity of those considered untouchable after a hard days work collecting a city’s refuse he insisted all labor was worthy of dignity and the economic justice of a fair wage Martin looked squarely into the eye of the gun sights of those who thought differently he never blinked, he dreamed Martin formed his last testament to an angry nation yearning for the reconciliation of stability and peace, unmoved that it’s violence, exploitation and bigotry only stoke bonfires of acrimony and division, condemning the reprobate principality to the bleakness of a smoldering discontent and continued generations of recurring nightmares… Martin's dream continues in awakened hearts sojourning on Music Selection: Mahalia Jackson Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho MLK Day 2014 Oakland
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Against the saturated Horizon of dawn, Loitering in the dark timbre Of emerging consciousness - Dissipating somnolence And preemptive despair, Tacitly adumbrate the Yawning abyss. Chastened by the cunning and Lubricious nihilism, Igniting fermented provocations, Silent subterfuge; death, By mirth - the inane; Lament of the mundane. Fallow paradigms, accretions of The last gasp - Evaporating empty liturgies Of suspicion; Charity and equanimity - Lost in confinement, Triumphant avarice bearing Descendants Of intransigence; Wielding imperious Schemes of orthodoxy. Pollard fragments of Silken tapestry, Miasma draped depression Abridging; Conversely, Permuted flurries of anxiety Dislodge The vestiges of meaning That abide In brazen equivocation. Tributaries of dogma reach Their confluence, Watershed moment,   Numinous effusion Streams naked epiphany, The precarious vision - A gesture of providence, Certainty and contingency; Gratuitously derivative, life Equals choice. Verdant branches of intention; And opportunity the vine, Live forward - The pen, my voice, Piquant conduit pouring, Exuberant wine. Footprints found in givenness Underline, Penumbrae of my soul; Mirrored silhouettes, Thoughts and words engender; And in verse adorn Fecund soil, Line after line, The cosmos altered, Continuum of permanence - Artist’s art articulating Essence of my imagination, I proliferate, I design Phrases unique, Participation mystique. Words creating world, The apparatus of infinity Heidegger, ontologically precise, Language - The house of Being, Ineffable, Promethean Literary devise - Envisioning possibility, And abundance to allow, I occur Inhabit Manifest Future phenomena Experienced as now. ©2008 & ©2011 W.S. Warner
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Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
The Precarious Vision
Against the saturated Horizon of dawn, Loitering in the dark timbre Of emerging consciousness - Dissipating somnolence And preemptive despair, Tacitly adumbrate the Yawning abyss. Chastened by the cunning and Lubricious nihilism, Igniting fermented provocations, Silent subterfuge; death, By mirth - the inane; Lament of the mundane. Fallow paradigms, accretions of The last gasp - Evaporating empty liturgies Of suspicion; Charity and equanimity - Lost in confinement, Triumphant avarice bearing Descendants Of intransigence; Wielding imperious Schemes of orthodoxy. Pollard fragments of Silken tapestry, Miasma draped depression Abridging; Conversely, Permuted flurries of anxiety Dislodge The vestiges of meaning That abide In brazen equivocation. Tributaries of dogma reach Their confluence, Watershed moment,   Numinous effusion Streams naked epiphany, The precarious vision - A gesture of providence, Certainty and contingency; Gratuitously derivative, life Equals choice. Verdant branches of intention; And opportunity the vine, Live forward - The pen, my voice, Piquant conduit pouring, Exuberant wine. Footprints found in givenness Underline, Penumbrae of my soul; Mirrored silhouettes, Thoughts and words engender; And in verse adorn Fecund soil, Line after line, The cosmos altered, Continuum of permanence - Artist’s art articulating Essence of my imagination, I proliferate, I design Phrases unique, Participation mystique. Words creating world, The apparatus of infinity Heidegger, ontologically precise, Language - The house of Being, Ineffable, Promethean Literary devise - Envisioning possibility, And abundance to allow, I occur Inhabit Manifest Future phenomena Experienced as now. ©2008 & ©2011 W.S. Warner
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What do you need right now, Nita? Shelter from the storm...that’s what I would like right now, that’s what I need right now, dear therapist. Shelter from the storm. I don’t doubt my determination to survive and yet here I am crying again. Crying and wishing for some GD shelter from the storm…the therapist does not question my commitment or desire to continue to work through this and someday come out on the other side. At least I don’t think he does. I can’t find my safe place now…it was such a fragile structure to begin with, made of straw and easily blown away in a storm. But it did exist two years ago. It did. And for the first time in my life I felt understood, safe, ‘real’. My safe place was a place I could be angry and sad, and hopeless. A place I could ask for guidance in the midst of confusion; a place of encouragement and comfort. A place where I could find shelter from the storm. But I can’t find it now! I feel like I am on the edge of tumbling into oblivion due to my own intransigence and inability to let the therapist back in.(or anybody) And I desperately need him tonight…shelter from the rain, stability in the wind, comfort in the thunder and lightning that is threatening me now. And what is maddening to me is if the therapist walked up to me right now, with a stadium sized umbrella and said, “Nita, come in and I will give you shelter from the storm.” I still stand in the rain, wind and thunderstorm and decline his umbrella because of my fear he would just wrench it away before the storm was over. So, here I sit, like a frightened child, on my own little island, surrounded by the storm, crying my eyes out over loss and betrayal…on an endless search for shelter from the storm. Here I sit arguing with myself! *"Nita, you can't do it alone.  He wants to help you - take the **** umbrella!"   "No!  I won't take it!  I don't need his **** umbrella!"   "Fine! You stupid baby! Suffer by yourself then ~ stubborn little *****   "I said take the umbrella!"* Messed up?  That does not even begin to cover it.
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Shelter from the storm
What do you need right now, Nita? Shelter from the storm...that’s what I would like right now, that’s what I need right now, dear therapist. Shelter from the storm. I don’t doubt my determination to survive and yet here I am crying again. Crying and wishing for some GD shelter from the storm…the therapist does not question my commitment or desire to continue to work through this and someday come out on the other side. At least I don’t think he does. I can’t find my safe place now…it was such a fragile structure to begin with, made of straw and easily blown away in a storm. But it did exist two years ago. It did. And for the first time in my life I felt understood, safe, ‘real’. My safe place was a place I could be angry and sad, and hopeless. A place I could ask for guidance in the midst of confusion; a place of encouragement and comfort. A place where I could find shelter from the storm. But I can’t find it now! I feel like I am on the edge of tumbling into oblivion due to my own intransigence and inability to let the therapist back in.(or anybody) And I desperately need him tonight…shelter from the rain, stability in the wind, comfort in the thunder and lightning that is threatening me now. And what is maddening to me is if the therapist walked up to me right now, with a stadium sized umbrella and said, “Nita, come in and I will give you shelter from the storm.” I still stand in the rain, wind and thunderstorm and decline his umbrella because of my fear he would just wrench it away before the storm was over. So, here I sit, like a frightened child, on my own little island, surrounded by the storm, crying my eyes out over loss and betrayal…on an endless search for shelter from the storm. Here I sit arguing with myself! *"Nita, you can't do it alone.  He wants to help you - take the **** umbrella!"   "No!  I won't take it!  I don't need his **** umbrella!"   "Fine! You stupid baby! Suffer by yourself then ~ stubborn little *****   "I said take the umbrella!"* Messed up?  That does not even begin to cover it.
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it was the last day of winter unseasonably warm I was standing behind an Imam his arms were raised hurling prayers for peace into the face of intransigence black dressed armored SWAT teams amassed swinging readied M16s vigilantly guarding walls constricting penned citizens waiting to place an American flag draped coffin onto the growing pile of other coffins covered in the multicolored flags of Iraq War belligerents swelling at the base of the wrought iron fence surrounding the White House I saw a curtain in the White House part the window filled with two tiny faces I imagined it to be Sasha and Bo taking a break from rambunctious play to peer out on a grim assembly wondering in confusion whats going on? why are these people placing coffins in front of our house? Sasha and Bo ran upstairs to the Oval Office she burst through the door “Daddy people are piling coffins in front of our house Why?” The President hugged his daughter and answered… “we’re at war Sasha... “the Evil Doers hate us for who we are... “they want to hurt us... “we must **** them… Sasha asked… “one sign says our bombs **** children… is that true Daddy?” Thats a lie right Daddy? If you knew children like me were being killed you wouldn't let that continue… would you Daddy?” John Kerry popped his head into the office…. “Sasha, your Daddy would never **** children in service to a lie” Sasha’s head tilted… The President flashed a smile… John Kerry walked away whistling… giving no notice to the photo of the Vietnam War Memorial as he passed Music Selection: The Shirelles Soldier Boy Oakland 6/11/14 jbm
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Winter Soldier
it was the last day of winter unseasonably warm I was standing behind an Imam his arms were raised hurling prayers for peace into the face of intransigence black dressed armored SWAT teams amassed swinging readied M16s vigilantly guarding walls constricting penned citizens waiting to place an American flag draped coffin onto the growing pile of other coffins covered in the multicolored flags of Iraq War belligerents swelling at the base of the wrought iron fence surrounding the White House I saw a curtain in the White House part the window filled with two tiny faces I imagined it to be Sasha and Bo taking a break from rambunctious play to peer out on a grim assembly wondering in confusion whats going on? why are these people placing coffins in front of our house? Sasha and Bo ran upstairs to the Oval Office she burst through the door “Daddy people are piling coffins in front of our house Why?” The President hugged his daughter and answered… “we’re at war Sasha... “the Evil Doers hate us for who we are... “they want to hurt us... “we must **** them… Sasha asked… “one sign says our bombs **** children… is that true Daddy?” Thats a lie right Daddy? If you knew children like me were being killed you wouldn't let that continue… would you Daddy?” John Kerry popped his head into the office…. “Sasha, your Daddy would never **** children in service to a lie” Sasha’s head tilted… The President flashed a smile… John Kerry walked away whistling… giving no notice to the photo of the Vietnam War Memorial as he passed Music Selection: The Shirelles Soldier Boy Oakland 6/11/14 jbm
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Exuberant ecstatic rapture Sardonic denigrating quip Joisting up an oaken rafter The cabin of a sailing ship Lucid eloquent recumbence Surreal retrospective grace Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence Infinity would set it’s pace Imbue spontaneous induction Exude efficient transience Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction For the course of our intransigence Litigant ludicrous licentiousness Coquettish audacious impunity Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence Would pound id’s shore horrendously Derisive subjugated nuance Extol intrinsic unity Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence With breeze and sky make harmony Predilect effluent effusion Tenacious taubla tapestry Alleviate the torrential confusion Acquire efficience for flights symmetry
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Immunity
sinner to sanctification reason over revulsion reaction begets agitation converting intransigence drowning in sin flailing for a life raft Music: Pete Seeger John Brown's Body jbm Oakland 010913
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Abolitionist
Break into the hallway. See you on the stairs. The stillness of the air. No beauty could compare. To the miserable girl. Sitting there. Her heart is down and she's already unable to repair. What she's done to herself. Its piece of work. Like the harsh, harsh day and the daily grind. It's not hard to say, lets not talk of that tonight. I'm not here to say that you're a **** inclined. To tell me where you were, but you're smoking here tonight. Hard to say. Where we went so wrong. Hard to say. There's nowhere to run. But its easy to bring. An empty plate. And too easy to find. An empty ******* buffet. And we're so abscond. We're so, **** unkind. There's no harbor here, because we're sailing blind. If you, want to say that you're hurt inside. I'll bring you the drinks and we'll drink to that, goodbye. So see me here in my heavy plight. It's gone bleak real fast, its gotten a mighty trite. I'm not here today. I'm here tonight. you're still sitting here, on the stairs. I see you there. Heart in your hand. Blood in your hair. Cabinets closed. Head on a rope. I'm not to blame. I had no hope. So say, now goodbye there's no need to cry. We were doomed from when we had tried to start. And if you, come back home I will bring you my heart and, We will drink to our safe and sound, night time and goodbye. Our house is gone. We cannot stand. We will not beg. We will not brag. Love is a rough. Life is a bare. I'll join you soon. Here on the stair.
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
Intransigence
Come to take you around in Montana, my friend! From the waters of Ogosta dam to the waves of the fountain and the fabulous nights in Monteto. Nowhere on earth or the Balkans you will find a city like that, even at sea for it's the quietest and most pleasant city in Bulgaria. A city with an ancient history, dating back to before the coming of Christ, telling of the intransigence of the people and their hunger for knowledge. A city with good people who deserve respect and esteem, people who believe in a better future and the progress of their young spirit. They pass this faith and knowledge on to future generations about the energy and loyalty to our city. From the dazzling and beautiful Chiprovtsi carpets to the countless and charming summers and winters. Welcome!
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Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 8:21 AM UTC
A Poem for Montana
Exuberant ecstatic rapture     Sardonic denigrating quip     Joisting up an oaken rafter     The cabin of a sailing ship     Lucid eloquent recumbence     Surreal retrospective grace     Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence     Infinity would set it’s pace     Imbue spontaneous induction     Exude efficient transience     Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction     For the course of our intransigence     Litigant ludicrous licentiousness     Coquettish audacious impunity     Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence     Would pound id’s shore horrendously     Derisive subjugated nuance     Extol intrinsic unity     Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence     With breeze and sky make harmony     Predilect effluent effusion     Tenacious taubla tapestry     Alleviate the torrential confusion     Acquire efficience for flights symmetry
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Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
Immunity
Keep your kids away from the  feathered rat. That mangy, tarry bird, living off their scraps. That carrier of disease, protruding as a cyst. Its mangled talon clenched, a red and permanent fist. Iron hulled intruders. Objective mystery. Walking a confident strut, name marred by history. And is it not a pity? most will not see, an oily rainbow as it turns its neck, and overlook a granite diplomacy. Is it not something to admire? Unique confidence? At the feet of the bread-man, only intransigence. With ideals ignored, can they not behold its spirit? When a grey bird remains, Why do I see its merit?
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Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 9:38 PM UTC
Pigeonscape
Exuberant ecstatic rapture     Sardonic denigrating quip     Joisting up an oaken rafter     The cabin of a sailing ship     Lucid eloquent recumbence     Surreal retrospective grace     Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence     Infinity would set it’s pace     Imbue spontaneous induction     Exude efficient transience     Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction     For the course of our intransigence     Litigant ludicrous licentiousness     Coquettish audacious impunity     Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence     Would pound id’s shore horrendously     Derisive subjugated nuance     Extol intrinsic unity     Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence     With breeze and sky make harmony     Predilect effluent effusion     Tenacious taubla tapestry     Alleviate the torrential confusion     Acquire efficience for flights symmetry
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Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
Immunity
In the face of infinity, I stumbled to an instigator. I must have known how furtive the ****** dotard was. An epidemic stereotype would barely drawl an insurgent. The tremendous vilification acurred. Here comes the futile virtuoso with his interminable intransigence. The vivacity dynamic banality of an unconscious programmed robot.
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
into debauchery
Sleep comes to those who wait slumbers of nothings and dreams of melodies caress the inevitable fate Expression laid like a place setting table cloth pulled and dishes wobbling waiting, leaning, and feigning for an answer to start believing But I wait, patient and still Vermouth, spilled ***** and whiskey, tacky kills Another sunrise two more setting surprise me in the morning unrested and humming A glass of water filled with ice balancing next to a butter knife Sliced smooth intransigence coupled delight
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Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 2:56 AM UTC
Sill Intransigent
the great big metronome in the sky, as those of a Floydian persuasion are wont to call it, tick, tick, ticks, with a switchblade intransigence, for a docile audience, rows of anesthetized deer... Mr. Whogivesa and Mrs. **** and their son, with the hyphenated last name, living the namesake... "don't talk to strangers?" why not show them the sleeve, where one's heart resides... melodrama, the most lucrative business move, (then why are most panhandlers still panhandlers? i guess it's the luck of the draw) ...takes after his Father most, that being he always stops short, that extra step, much too extra to take, a voyage in itself... in his standstill, where the metronome ticks, ticks, ticks, and only few deer are left awake, by the dull-glow of drug, a voice, between drags of a cigarette: "kid, skipping stones across a frozen lake, is not that impressive, but convincing everyone it is? well..."
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Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
smart enough to convince people i'm smart enough
What are we looking for Lost voyeurs Scrolling thru Each other's lives At breakneck speeds Time traveling From Not present To inaccessible   An unconscious collective Our departures marked By blue screen glare And a vacant stare Intelligent phone Intransigence drones The United State of Learned helplessness
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Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
Intransigence
Stick to your guns and mean what you say, believe that intransigence is not only right,it's the right way to go. Let them know who's the boss and don't give a toss what they think,because unlike you, they'll think again and change their point of view. Be a 'stick in the mud' stick to the things that you know,and though everyone moves on you don't have to go. So, say what you mean if it means you're okay and you can **** off tomorrow we've got today.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
The herd instinct
I'm right, they're wrong. They just won't get along. Of course that's why we fight.                      _(Effing morons anyway...)_
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Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 4:59 PM UTC
The Impeccable Logic of Intransigence
Victims of hearing damage sounds muffled through unopen ears Minds of intransigence, unwelcome rampage Misconceptions of all that one hears Why can't we speak our words with understanding every discussion's bound to turn to debate brick walls of our entitlement clash How can peace reign when we keep confiding in hate? Question your theory please & I'll question mine Let's contemplate, negotiate with handshakes & wine, Here, grudges & conflict are made easier than amity- than tranquility & unity & all that's sublime.
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Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 10:44 AM UTC
Hearing damage.
You write of him Who has passed a while, Extant now only as ash Within a porcelain jar, You write of the bitter Arrogance of anger Left unresolved and You not released from pain, Of these you write, And these you feel With such pain Such loss, But he IS gone! His vitriol has no power here, No right to use your voice Nor fuel your rage, Nor create in you His reincarnate toxicity, Your are not him Nor ever were, You are your mothers child Her softness tempers his Vile intransigence, And you need not go there, So let him go Into the shades of time And away from this reality, And your life, And look instead to That which is around you, Loves you and has your back, For I my love Have yet to cross the bar And I would sail with you, Aboard your vessel Or in closest company, You escort and protector, Your lover and your very Very best friend, The one who has your back The one that you can count upon, Fifty years or so with luck I have and you much the very same, Will you share mine with me, And let me share yours, With you?
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Nov 26, 2023
Nov 26, 2023 at 12:16 PM UTC
Not Crossed the Bar
intransigence, streets refusing rain, all syllables march back into my mouth; i'm drowning.
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Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 11:37 PM UTC
Um
(alter knit lee tie tilled - Field Day For A Nihilist). Hunger for knowledge vis avis car ear ring (and car rue ming) cerebrum formulated, integrated, promulgated personal perception to the point of no return, and inadvertently brought to fruition basic, dogmatic, enigmatic, fatalistic heuristic life lessons. The fabulist, dualistic capacity averred viz Zoroastrianism figuratively pitched this contemplative, furtive, intuitive literate organic, realistic, universalistic, wanderer yearning instinctive modalities metamorphosing this quizzically opportunistic, philosophically naturalistic, officially matt tea real list tic, and sometime prophesying prognosticating probing outlier. As a nonestablishmentarian libertarian, joy riding heretic, feasting dishabille *** I contemplated the capacity qua Duality of human being to co-exist inside the labyrinth of mental learning. Quite often reconciliation between the angel of come passion stood opposite intent (with minimal effort to foment) malicious intent toward evil. This constant tug of war (within depths of psyche) perched psychological state upon precarious pivot. Balance between righteousness verses barb bar rick ken of villainy engendered warp and woof of noble might undermined via ignoble, infamous injudicious threnody thru the countless millennia, when many an outstanding wizard served as a prime mover and shaker to boost betterment of so called civilized state with the bane of anarchy, disintegration, gallimaufry always in the vanguard. Manifold milieus, which witnessed civilization rise and fall became bereft of equilibrium be tween forces of growth and decay. The feature of intransigence (as a free roaming derelict agent) and dominant characteristic of contemporary society.
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Antithetical Agent Provocateur
(alter knit lee tie tilled - Field Day For A Nihilist). Hunger for knowledge vis avis car ear ring (and car rue ming) cerebrum formulated, integrated, promulgated personal perception to the point of no return, and inadvertently brought to fruition basic, dogmatic, enigmatic, fatalistic heuristic life lessons. The fabulist, dualistic capacity averred viz Zoroastrianism figuratively pitched this contemplative, furtive, intuitive literate organic, realistic, universalistic, wanderer yearning instinctive modalities metamorphosing this quizzically opportunistic, philosophically naturalistic, officially matt tea real list tic, and sometime prophesying prognosticating probing outlier. As a nonestablishmentarian libertarian, joy riding heretic, feasting dishabille *** I contemplated the capacity qua Duality of human being to co-exist inside the labyrinth of mental learning. Quite often reconciliation between the angel of come passion stood opposite intent (with minimal effort to foment) malicious intent toward evil. This constant tug of war (within depths of psyche) perched psychological state upon precarious pivot. Balance between righteousness verses barb bar rick ken of villainy engendered warp and woof of noble might undermined via ignoble, infamous injudicious threnody thru the countless millennia, when many an outstanding wizard served as a prime mover and shaker to boost betterment of so called civilized state with the bane of anarchy, disintegration, gallimaufry always in the vanguard. Manifold milieus, which witnessed civilization rise and fall became bereft of equilibrium be tween forces of growth and decay. The feature of intransigence (as a free roaming derelict agent) and dominant characteristic of contemporary society.
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