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"intrinsically" poems
(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! *Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011
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Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 2:09 AM UTC
We Just Lost the Human Race
(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! *Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011
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(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011
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Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
We Just Lost the Human Race!
(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011
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50
Skin blushed peach on snow white cheeks Luster and grandeur not seen by the meek Intrinsically dominant furnace of femininity Dither and hither be stricken for insincerity If you try to speak to her expect less then levity To your advances she implies depravity Blatantly ignorant vacuous blond ***** Tell me again how I hate you and want ***
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
feminist extremists or did you even know the equal rights movement was never ratified?
In a time, when men were the superheroes, born in an unconventional location, a young girl, unknown to the future she was destined to, was born with a uniqueness unfound in all people, a superpower of empathy and as she grew, the world knew she was imbued as a living embodiment of legends: Athena's wisdom, beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite, conversational skills that made Hermes envious, and strength that Hercules could never attain. As she approached an age, when her parents would trust her to be guardian, her powers manifested. This incredible child was now a woman. With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge poison that had afflicted a person, even their hearts, a God-given gift for those most sacred; her correspondences exponentially developed, able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature, this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity. Now, fully grown, this super-no- This Wonder Woman had retired her duties to save the world, not forsake it, but, to train Wonder Girl, her daughter, to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her. She still looks up at the Higher Power and realizes her duty to provide the world justice is not over but only beginning. Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged and was gifted a bulletproof bracelet, forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction of all that is wise and healing. Given to her to wear so that nothing could halt her as she continues her fate to provide the world a humanity that could only come from an intrinsically true dear heart.
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
Ode to Mama
In a time, when men were the superheroes, born in an unconventional location, a young girl, unknown to the future she was destined to, was born with a uniqueness unfound in all people, a superpower of empathy and as she grew, the world knew she was imbued as a living embodiment of legends: Athena's wisdom, beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite, conversational skills that made Hermes envious, and strength that Hercules could never attain. As she approached an age, when her parents would trust her to be guardian, her powers manifested. This incredible child was now a woman. With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge poison that had afflicted a person, even their hearts, a God-given gift for those most sacred; her correspondences exponentially developed, able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature, this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity. Now, fully grown, this super-no- This Wonder Woman had retired her duties to save the world, not forsake it, but, to train Wonder Girl, her daughter, to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her. She still looks up at the Higher Power and realizes her duty to provide the world justice is not over but only beginning. Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged and was gifted a bulletproof bracelet, forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction of all that is wise and healing. Given to her to wear so that nothing could halt her as she continues her fate to provide the world a humanity that could only come from an intrinsically true dear heart.
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49
There is an inherent discrepancy 'twixt the World in One's Mind and the World that simply Is. That is, however, no intrinsically bad thing. For, I find, that the world Within needs the world Without, though they inderdepend and thus are not mutually exclusive. There needs to be a discrepancy for the pressures, as it were, to have any room or excuse to neutralize: to move towards equilibrium; however, it is not linear, nor is it parabolic: this, I believe, is where Calculus becomes a valid allegory for Life, itself.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
The Calculus of Life itself.
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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18
Regardless how precise the assay of their life, Most men must remain an enigma; Their motivation fired by inner strife A polymorph for which no sigma, Nor algebraic symbol will suffice. No If and then which personality To a course of action thus relates, Nor can it be hypothesized conditionally, The turmoil emotion intrinsically creates, When alone they stare into death's reality. Two dimensional is the biography of any man. We see his length and width, never grasping depth, Though fortune deems we live within his span. Much like this into my life have crept Those I love, yet may never understand.
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Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
Empirical Breakdown
obsessive compulsive thoughts that don't belong intrusive elusive intrinsically wrong ocd unstable unable harm your bone and skin fearful tearful tattoos of your sins ocd ocd aggressive possessive words not meant but said irritated isolated dreams not gone but dead ocd ocd ocd
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Sep 2, 2022
Sep 2, 2022 at 4:58 AM UTC
ocd
"Elegance is the only beauty that never fades....  -Audrey Hepburn I beg to differ... there are many beauties..... such as... the intensely knowing glance of someone who has known you... intrinsically... The glance that let's you know that there are things deep inside of you, that have never changed. It's the look that identifies the links in your histories, and that reveal your very core. The look that says I still see you... with acceptance and understanding... That fleeting momentary look ... whether seen throughout a lifetime. ... or a lifetime ago.... That look, acknowledges a basic truth of who you really are. Acknowledges, that you are truly known...outside of yourself. It transcends decades and inspires both fear and awe in me.... and I think that is beautiful!
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
"Never Fading ...Beauty"
She didn't set out to be a seductress Until she became a seducted She was afraid of love Not wanting to see her heart Being devastated in stitches, By a thousand cuts You're a seducer, she said to him Why do you say that? He asked politely. Because the first time we met You melted me like a mountain of snow Melting away in the summer. I must confess: I thought I built giant walls To protect me from a man like you. There you are, tearing them down altogether without allowing me the benefit of a fight. Really? he exclaimed Tell me more. you walked up to me you touched my hands flirtatiously you look me straight in the eyes and compliment me with a calm, balanced, Masculine and confident voice. I didn't expect it, I didn't want it, I was blown away. She continued: I was a lost soul; you shelter me. I was a lost ship; you seize me. I was a lost bird; you cage me. I was a diamond in the rough, You dig me out and make me yours. And what do you think of me now? You're a happy man. Why do you say that? He asked. She replied: You know how to give and receive pleasure. Down memory lane, If you elect to remember one thing about me What would that be? She answered: You intrinsically love women.
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Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 9:50 AM UTC
The seduction of Emma Valdoramay
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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seven years young, always sharing a still smile. You find him decked out and drowning in choir robes, with Golden curls placed gently on a hammered head. This boy plays piano in a dead sanctuary Following familial rule, until he let it all go. the boy began playing music unwritten, off hymnal sheets Harmonious melodies stream from dancing fingertips, Intrinsically clearing the once-cloudy air with vivacious voodoo. The boy’s fingers groove up and down the piano, His touch graces ivory keys and His foot performs a rhythmic pedal-pressing tango. He calls the audience: everywhere, eyes ignite like flame: A communal headturn towards the piano. They need more. They crave it. All the sanctuary people rise from the seats, Abandon their pews, they enclose this boy. No means to scare him, they want to experience. The audience turns their ears towards the piano’s emissions,   Emanating from within Inhaling soundwaves— Intoxicatingly sweet. They absorb his notes into every pore of their skin, Fueling their bodies with musical nutrients. Electric jolts flow right into the room’s extremities. They let down their hair and begin to dance. Until a brief noise, distinctive throat-clearing, came through the speakers; Heads shifted to the podium, only to see their ticked-off pastor, Smirking and waving sarcastically. Discipline. The congregation stumbled back to their seats. The boy stopped playing. Ending the enchantment, killing the sanctuary. Air again filled with ‘God’s voice’ through the mouth of the speaker. A speaker who just wanted attention. The boy slipped out of the piano seat, out the church’s doors. You want to chase after him, give him a ride Where could the boy be going in the middle of the storm? The pastor’s prodigal son.
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May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
The Boy Who Played the Piano
seven years young, always sharing a still smile. You find him decked out and drowning in choir robes, with Golden curls placed gently on a hammered head. This boy plays piano in a dead sanctuary Following familial rule, until he let it all go. the boy began playing music unwritten, off hymnal sheets Harmonious melodies stream from dancing fingertips, Intrinsically clearing the once-cloudy air with vivacious voodoo. The boy’s fingers groove up and down the piano, His touch graces ivory keys and His foot performs a rhythmic pedal-pressing tango. He calls the audience: everywhere, eyes ignite like flame: A communal headturn towards the piano. They need more. They crave it. All the sanctuary people rise from the seats, Abandon their pews, they enclose this boy. No means to scare him, they want to experience. The audience turns their ears towards the piano’s emissions,   Emanating from within Inhaling soundwaves— Intoxicatingly sweet. They absorb his notes into every pore of their skin, Fueling their bodies with musical nutrients. Electric jolts flow right into the room’s extremities. They let down their hair and begin to dance. Until a brief noise, distinctive throat-clearing, came through the speakers; Heads shifted to the podium, only to see their ticked-off pastor, Smirking and waving sarcastically. Discipline. The congregation stumbled back to their seats. The boy stopped playing. Ending the enchantment, killing the sanctuary. Air again filled with ‘God’s voice’ through the mouth of the speaker. A speaker who just wanted attention. The boy slipped out of the piano seat, out the church’s doors. You want to chase after him, give him a ride Where could the boy be going in the middle of the storm? The pastor’s prodigal son.
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42
Moonlight feels like identical twins separated Nepthys and Isis shot across opposite ends of infinity Their mutual rhythm only sound sane with the other a rhyme to the reason because that is what art is Splitting lightening once the white shine bolts a crack in my spine hits the glitch in my automatic mask, to the world, and everything I can't hold in my head space Full Moon in Gemini so unwilling to compromise because of the gift and the curse to see both sides so vividly; intrinsically Since when has anything ever been set in stone without growing into another white lie floating in the mist of another form that couldn't be compared to this but rather another aspect in this There are no questions left to ask The High Priestess Everything I needed to howl at the moon pin balled back to me in the vacancy of desert skies Sand storm in my eyes until Judgment's horns blared through the illusion of heaven I created Your place in my life is as empty as the chair next to me.
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Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
Queen of Swords
the cardiologist, in passing, remarks, or perhaps, “re-marks” my ECG test, casually revealing that every fifteen or twenty or so of my regularly scheduled hearts beats, an extra one sneaks it, which appears unlike all the rest of those normative little hillocks pointing skyward, ^ ^ ^ V ^ ^ ^ ^ yep that one, sneaky ****** slips in, pointing downwards like a class clown always disrupting classroom’s good order… Doc reassures it don’t mean a thing if you got that extra swing,   and our friendly informing internet reassures: “The idea of your heartbeat going rogue may sound alarming. But in most cases, an ectopic beat is a harmless condition. It's also a common one” but yet I am intrinsically intrigued, oh yeah, that’s an intentional funny double entendre, but methinks that explains so much of my irregular, irreverent poetry scribbling, particularly because this bratty beat be best addressed directly as: “You Little Rogue!” a highly scientific term, taught in medical schools by non-poets, but needy for definitions that the layman can love and keep in their heart shaped hands…
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Nov 4, 2023
Nov 4, 2023 at 8:17 AM UTC
intrinsically intrigued by my irregular, irreverent, extra heartbeat...
Intake warm breeze as chest expands Like a tequila shot Slammed Top shelf tequila... A more enduring Sobering Variety of elixir Oxygen and energy ringing Integrity intact Confidence withstands Through chaos and madness I AM a glorious being We ARE shining out into the galaxy Can't you see? Only by running on Spiritual fumes of evermore Can we truly be All we were meant Without a penny spent The universe expands Fills up every pore of pink lung Feeding blood as it wraps around My heart squeezing out Every ounce of Stamina and love Exhale air of hope So grateful to it Swirling up My being bowed down in reverence Indebted to it the atmosphere The same breeze Engulfs birds in the trees, Who drink it up, Singing sweetly Sure beats man-made Intoxication any day of the week Don't you think? The best highs of this life are beautifully Intrinsically Deceivingly Free Go forth! Spread your wings Spanning from Past to future Fly to sights unseen! Soar the currents of today Right up to the heavens Dear friends! I'll be perched Waiting for your faces in the branches of Serenity, Chirping hymns of Love
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
Hope Air Rises
Your smile spreads across your face like a butterfly, And glistens like sunlight reflecting fleeting white flashes Off of rippling blue waves.  Only, Your smile does not give the peace of vast emptiness That comes from the beam of nature, alone. Instead, it awakens a passion from numbness that It is real, not just in some novels or the movies, For us--Oh, how I hoped it was real! I dreamed the monarch you showed me was intrinsically for me. My blind heart, overflowing, pled to know you- What your smile was for and how to make it flutter Again and again, and you, too, would've seen mine for its essence, Understanding that one was special, secure, reserved for you.
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
Untitled
You ask me, Do I miss you? How can I miss you? You are always with me, Your face behind my eyes, Your soul sleeping in my heart, The essence of you dances for me, Sinuous curves shimmy within shadows. You ask me, Do I love you? You should be asking, How much you love me? Then measure that feeling, Holding it tightly deep inside, Knowing that I feel just the same, With every single fibre of my being. You ask me, Do I miss you? Perhaps, I might sigh, The very truth, though, Is that I miss you terribly, Is that part of me aches for you, Though we are intrinsically entwined, Sometimes, such closeness is not enough. You ask me, Do I love you? Do you need to ask? I live and breathe you, As you live and breathe me, Your roads lead to me, woman, I am by your side, holding your hand, One day, we will surely arrive together. You ask me, Do I miss you? Everyday baby, Never doubt it is so, My pain is like your own, Insomnia, numbing, yearning, Hiding tears in the soft darkness, But knowing, we will be free, one day. ©Paul M Chafer 2015
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
One Day, Yes, One day
I'll turn into a song when everything feels wrong While the roses are still red Intrinsically, I'll sing along. While still I'll rise, and glance ahead Until I entirely realize: that im alive within these half dreamed dreams. powerful to mind that somewhere glow sunbeams- the inevitable engulfing night, remember, 's oh so shorter than it seems. Wistfully forget Or gracefully remember, I turn into a song- and its a very solemn playlist.
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
Young & Alive
Watch those blue shoes, being carried on the tide, They're rolling from the water's edge, propelled by sunlight, lost in pain. Once stepped over stones, with you, once weighed down. See the lose broken twigs, cruising with the tide beside them. The shoes remember you intrinsically, For all eternity, Never will you be forgot, Floating shoes, have been released, nearly free. They're missing your lost kisses, Riding ever onward, Flowing toward home. Being soothed and washed, Cleansed and washed away. They're dancing as seahorses do, as they roam, towards relief, being bathed in marinated foam. (C) Livvi
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
STEPPING INTO FREEDOM
Little kitten i would have your purr and bristle fur inside of you i'd be lion strong And you could scratch and cut and use me as your post. And i would drink you up up up my tongue my throat a vestibule in time catching and licking and suckin and taking you in sublime. All fluid and raw flesh and blood My hunger for you is feline *** canine Bloodthirst, this urge this roar inside of me for you. Animal intent I am your awakening, the ache to your throb you pulse through my veins and i want to be taken in your claws. You are not submissive and i am not Domme but you'd melt in my paws. Up high Against a wall i would carry you on my shoulders your back against the wall and drink and breathe and become your flesh from within you i'd break and re-mould and detail the design of your love for me. I would be your strength embodied a boy of flesh of depth of passion of friendship fashioned intrinsically with love and Oneness. I can only be the only one.
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Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:24 AM UTC
Little kitten
Delicate atmosphere Intrinsically understood Nature's intricate ecosystems Our planetary amniotic fluid Unborn children Safe within the womb Helplessly pondering our existence Relentlessly hoping that soon Something will save us Will come to wake us up As if this life is not enough.. I wonder if the star that exploded and created the atoms of which I consist is proud of the reincarnation that has grown to presently exist This life giving source My Mother; this Earth To whom we owe our lives for the very possibility of birth. Safe in our first moments inside our Mother's womb While our Mothers were safe within Hers This Earth is a living entity and we must protect the roots of truth from which the gift of life occurs.
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Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
Protect the Roots of Truth
Take heed, falter not Your time is currency, Tied ineffaceably To the heart rate of Your Fiscal Policy. Spent but once, Priceless - A Beat, Irretrievable. “Spend your time wisely" Advised are we But time invested With Family, Often Face-value perceived, Too steep a price paid When Quantified Monetarily. Such an idea of a lie, So psyche ingrained. Dire submission of modern humanity Ever so Intrinsically sealed We even Concede; “These moments are stolen” & our time considered; “...too precious” © Qwey.ku
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Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
Precious
Placing the bandaid on top of the next. Placating my irrational thoughts, but all so fleeting. I'm happy. Then... the wounds peak through, I know these outside influences whether drugs or relationships won't hold up in the ultimate goal - the real happiness quantifier. That happiness Beautiful soulful careless laughter Give me that happiness. Sing and dance, but not at the expense of my lungs and kidneys. Talk about something you know For you. Intrinsically fascinating, Not fabricating lies based on ideas for Others to like you. Stop pleasing others for their expense. Please yourself through ridding Yourself of dense Self pitying thoughts and Push-over tendencies Rejection fearing and Stop baring these heavy suicidal thoughts. Learn To appreciate your worth, You have a gift of Kindness, intelligence, mindfulness. I love myself Or at least I'm learning to and the healthy way. By myself. And I won't ask your opinion, is that okay? Yeah I'm still learning.
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Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
Fleeting
if it was never deliberate or carefully controlled then maybe i'm just intrinsically forgettable ashes and wine, between the lines. i'm tracing circles in my mind like a little whirlpool swirling in the waters of what i was too ignorant to notice before i remember this story already, it's happened a while back i stifle a bitter laugh and play the rest of the track i never wanted to be an afterthought.
0
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
afterthought
Real freedom are intrinsically linked to the freedom of a bird of prey.
0
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 2:27 PM UTC
Free like a bird.