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"invasive" poems
Opia. Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking into someone's eyes, which can fell simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. As you lie in my arms, watching the television, you don't notice that my undivided attention is focused on you. Something I've been dreaming of for weeks, and it's finally come true. Even better, from your angle, you can't see me staring into your eyes, so I don't feel the nervous compulsion to turn away. Whether directly or not, I could drink in your eyes with mine, for hours, and they would be among the best hours of my life. Then there's the other hand, held tightly by trepidation. I love the prospect of your eyes staring into mine, but it's not without its fears. I'm afraid you'll see all the pain and fears that I've spent the past seven years working to overcome. I'm afraid you'll see all the insecurity and doubts I have about myself. I'm afraid you'll see all the words that I long to whisper in your ear, but can't, because I'm terrified of scaring you away. I'm afraid you won't like the fact that, behind these eyes lies only pictures and thoughts of you. But most of all, I'm afraid that, unlike me, who loves every detail, and lives for moments like these, you won't love the things you see. I long for the day when you stare happily into my eyes, but I'm frightened that you won't enjoy the secrets they reveal.
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
Opia
Do You Ever Find … ? That Words Sometimes … KEEP On … " Runnin' " … Through Your Mind … ?!? Sometimes ... My Rhymes And Words Are … ...... STUNNING ….. !!!!! These Days I Find My Word Designs … Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!! So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ... of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves … Wordplay … ? Just … RIDICULOUS … !!! Volume … ? Straight Up … INFINITE … !!! Inception Is … " Synonymous " … With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!! Conception … NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!! ******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!! My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!! In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!! Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous …. Chorus … NO … !!! Because It Flows … And Has NO PLACE In … ... " Talent Shows " … !!!!! TALENT ... ??? Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!! What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!! A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!! Prostitution …. NO …. !!! NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talking of THOSE … NO TIME For Coc’ … !!! Or Yes … ******* … !!! Because My Nose ... Does NOT House Notes … !!!!! Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!! FLOWS … ?!? I Got …Those … !!! QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!! Races Places So Many Faces … Sometimes My Mind ... DEFINES … INVASIVE … WAIT ..................................................................... !!! I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ... Words of Verse … From The Thoughts of … ….. " Big Virge " ….. !!! My Head … ??? It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!! Because I Write … Like Those Who Fight … And Wear The Garms' … of Those Who Choose To ... YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!? Violent … NAH … !?! Big Virge Is … ….. Calm …............................................................. I'd Rather Charm … But PLEASE BE SMART … !!! Before My Words … Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!! Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!! Am I Bajan … ??? NO ... But Here's The Quote … I'm … ENGLISH Born … So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!! But Am Now REBORN … !!! With … CARIBBEAN Views … Just Down The Road … From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!! On BAJAN' Shores …. !!! NOT Cold But WARM … !!! I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!! That I Have FOUND … A Place For Myself … On My Parents' Ground … !!!!! Africa Next … ? Well … More or Less … So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!! I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!? Girls … ?!?!? That's Where This Poem ENDS. SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find … One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!! With The Man … Big Virge ... ... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ... I Guess That's Why … ? I Write These Rhymes … And Put In Verse … Words That … " Traverse " … That I NOW FIND … " Run Through My Mind " …..
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
"Run Through My Mind" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 20/12/2013
Do You Ever Find … ? That Words Sometimes … KEEP On … " Runnin' " … Through Your Mind … ?!? Sometimes ... My Rhymes And Words Are … ...... STUNNING ….. !!!!! These Days I Find My Word Designs … Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!! So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ... of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves … Wordplay … ? Just … RIDICULOUS … !!! Volume … ? Straight Up … INFINITE … !!! Inception Is … " Synonymous " … With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!! Conception … NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!! ******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!! My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!! In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!! Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous …. Chorus … NO … !!! Because It Flows … And Has NO PLACE In … ... " Talent Shows " … !!!!! TALENT ... ??? Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!! What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!! A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!! Prostitution …. NO …. !!! NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talking of THOSE … NO TIME For Coc’ … !!! Or Yes … ******* … !!! Because My Nose ... Does NOT House Notes … !!!!! Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!! FLOWS … ?!? I Got …Those … !!! QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!! Races Places So Many Faces … Sometimes My Mind ... DEFINES … INVASIVE … WAIT ..................................................................... !!! I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ... Words of Verse … From The Thoughts of … ….. " Big Virge " ….. !!! My Head … ??? It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!! Because I Write … Like Those Who Fight … And Wear The Garms' … of Those Who Choose To ... YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!? Violent … NAH … !?! Big Virge Is … ….. Calm …............................................................. I'd Rather Charm … But PLEASE BE SMART … !!! Before My Words … Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!! Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!! Am I Bajan … ??? NO ... But Here's The Quote … I'm … ENGLISH Born … So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!! But Am Now REBORN … !!! With … CARIBBEAN Views … Just Down The Road … From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!! On BAJAN' Shores …. !!! NOT Cold But WARM … !!! I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!! That I Have FOUND … A Place For Myself … On My Parents' Ground … !!!!! Africa Next … ? Well … More or Less … So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!! I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!? Girls … ?!?!? That's Where This Poem ENDS. SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find … One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!! With The Man … Big Virge ... ... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ... I Guess That's Why … ? I Write These Rhymes … And Put In Verse … Words That … " Traverse " … That I NOW FIND … " Run Through My Mind " …..
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°••°••°••° °•°◇°•° There are no Monsters here... this, the abandoned soft, fertile soil, that was to feed the Family Gardens. No evil creatures, lurking behind these timid hurting hearts. a painful place... this invasive, pervasive, clusterfuck of Us . Here lay The raw, The ragged mashed up mis-understandings. An onslaught of hurts, that float and fester in our cauldron of tears. 'Canvas of Colors' tells Our story... Melding together The frozen and unthawed moments of all the Precious Forever Embraces There are no Monsters here We are the tender beings that continue to breathe ragged after the forest fire, tripping through Crumbling Ashes turned wet black. Dank and slippery. Yearning to find strong footing amongst these ruins of our own doing No evil creatures, lurking behind these timid hurting hearts There are no Monters here
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
There are no Monsters
[Hashtag]MeToo Here it goes again, trending on Insta and Facebook. Where real awareness stems. Mind the sarcasm, social media’s a powerful tool not knockin’ that. I wonder though, does the mind of the follower understand the context of the hash? Do they get it should be a call to action? Not necessarily at the keyboard. More like on the couch with their children, Giving the conversation of consent.   Most people do not even understand it by definition . The meaning of yes and no convoluted by scenario.   Bias boils over like milk and water over full flame. The posts bubble out and stick to the side of the pan, quickly drying; leaving their mark. Until the soap and warm water flows over them, and the steam evaporates the confessions. Until they are again whispers we all hear and know. It’s whispers from the alley ways, and from married couples bedroom doors. The woman is the property,   the man is the proprietor.   We refuse to address the real problems, the failures of our up-bringers. We point fingers and slay names yet the statistics provide the truth.   One in four for females, one in sixteen for males. We all have been violated, slandered, and forced to say [Hashtag]MeToo Not going to say I did not share it, I know the touch of unwanted hands, the invasive *********** All for the sake of the insanity,   in repeating a useless gesture. The only difference is My hashtag went to my Senator.
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Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
#MeToo
Conceal amnesiac eyes with a hood, Maybe nights fall oddly placid. Sleep could collapse its resistance, Crumble sunlight into ashes. Nightmares internally unravel, Soldiers fought, already lost. Invasive thoughts occurring, Arising ice, I can't defrost. This complexion leaves me perplexed, Battling behind my forehead. I can't evade this hopelessness, I've pled, go back to bed. Sunsets settled maniacal, Malnourished; give me a mask. Because all I ache for is sleep, To possess what life I'd had-
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May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
War
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason, Logical, radical movement Trying for less invasive measures of medication To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence, Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change. The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats. Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate. Whip lash. Flick, flame, fumigating Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace Twitching with the need to take action To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
0
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Ballot? What Ballot?
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason, Logical, radical movement Trying for less invasive measures of medication To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence, Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change. The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats. Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate. Whip lash. Flick, flame, fumigating Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace Twitching with the need to take action To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
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I.      the smell of sad odorless colorless like ***** similar familiar sidewinder effects, musty invasive, it has no specificity, no locale centrale, well closeted, saddling sadding, in place, plain sighted better to toy our lives, pervades persists, worse lingers, impervious to sprays and even everyone’s good literature (even Will S’s), good wishes good intentions and mood prayers to the nearest lay god on duty at the spiritual emergency room on weekends, still stink don’t think that this poem is for you; solely for the writer, your doppelgänger ****** your mirror’s inside hiding out place, I, who has your sadness smell into my skin cells creepily crept waft woof and warp wet weft-woven into the sad receptacles hidden in my head’s cubbies and the palms of my tree hands-covering face there are cures so wonderful and inexpensive but unavailable at the local Rite Aid, though they are the right aid recoverable, so closer than close, so close that the internist cannot prescribe them because he must inject himself first because the live bacteria in the antidote can **** all this odor lays down bamboo-strong roots; to eradicate you must dig down deep, six feet perhaps more, with heavy earth moving equipment, uproot at the source, follow sad always all-the-way down and the root great god gone, but the saddest truth stench odor yet present***
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Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
I. the smell of sad
I don't know how to describe But they all seem to inscribe Their every pain on me Whenever someone feels down I just kind of start to frown But they will never see I know it doesn't make sense My feelings are so intense And they drive me crazy What I feel is much deeper The cliff doesn't get steeper Will I ever be free?
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
Invasive Empathy
Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor. I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood, Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe, Hanging on for it's own amusement, Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time. I feel I shouldn't like your racket, My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound, But also a daunting undertone, Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters. Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving, Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery, Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones. For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage, I hear only the low notes, Out of time with my quickened pulse, And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps. But you play for no pay, Busking in this hospital, Doing good both night and day. Yes, you are well known in this place, Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance, And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel, Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering, Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto. But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice, Allowing flourishes and improvisations. But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly, The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments, Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family, As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again. Now I am older and a little wiser, I reflect and ruminate on this period; My memories of family are more than just hospital visits, And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you? Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!
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Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
The Medical Clarinettist
Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor. I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood, Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe, Hanging on for it's own amusement, Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time. I feel I shouldn't like your racket, My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound, But also a daunting undertone, Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters. Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving, Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery, Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones. For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage, I hear only the low notes, Out of time with my quickened pulse, And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps. But you play for no pay, Busking in this hospital, Doing good both night and day. Yes, you are well known in this place, Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance, And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel, Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering, Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto. But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice, Allowing flourishes and improvisations. But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly, The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments, Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family, As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again. Now I am older and a little wiser, I reflect and ruminate on this period; My memories of family are more than just hospital visits, And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you? Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!
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35
I had never believed in evil until I watched it sprout from your throat like some kind of invasive vine. And even though it might be naive to say, I still believe that there are flowers living somewhere inside you, fighting their way through the cracks in the pavement.
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Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Vines
vote for nobody because nobody cares that you're a wage-slave that healthcare is astronomical and college is unaffordable nobody tells the truth about global warming nobody gives a **** about smashing the patriarchy nobody understands that black lives matter and since nobody has an ounce of integrity it's in our own best interest to let nobody have all the power if nobody can stop the endless war and ubiquitous surveillance apparatus that subjects the world to invasive violations of privacy then i will give nobody my support nobody pledges allegiance to all brothers and sisters and organisms on planet Earth and feels the weight of each life crushed by the gears of capitalism nobody sits alone in the school cafeteria nobody begs for change on the front-steps of Goldman Sachs nobody pirouettes atop a Charging Bull nobody stares back at you in the mirror a vote for nobody is a vote for everyone
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
nobody
Young Liam loved Orange and liked to wear ties. To his firehouse friends He was one of the guys. He had his own locker a slicker and hat. He also had cancer, and a bad one at that. From early on in his life he fought neuroblastoma ; An invasive tumor a metastatic carcinoma. His family who loved him labored to save their dear little child Prince Liam the Brave. He faced surgery bravely, engaged in his fight.. He endured radiation Chemo and knife. When many a New Yorker complains about stress, Prince Liam was stoic When put to the test. Then just before Christmas he suffered a relapse He became neutrapenic- His immune system collapsed. With blood in his ***** And a spot on his lung Liam grew weak. his defenses undone. An Amethyst stone he received from a friend was his talisman of hope that he held to the end. The worst part of the journey was when hope was gone. Then Liam lay, still and silent in his mother's arms. There are brave fire fighters Who’ll be fighting back tears Brave Prince Liam has died, He lived only six years There are many old people still avoiding the grave Who know less about love Than did Liam the brave We will gather together In St Francis’ nave To remember the life of Prince Liam the brave i
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Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 8:18 AM UTC
Prince Liam, the Brave
We are told that Nothing trumps Trump's Misogyny but truth will out When his sexist shtick is a Gift that keeps giving for His Republican rivals, Whose Lips are sealed, but by Their deeds their hands are unclean. We know that Bush did not beat about the bush When he said of women on welfare that “They should Be able to get their life Together and find a husband" We know that Walker repealed Wisconsin's only Equal pay law and supported anti-choice Invasive intrusion of a woman's right To choose. We know that Mike H Has mused that he thinks women Who cannot control their “Libido" Should not “curse” and Jay Z is really A **** seems to be exploiting Beyoncé. We know that Rubio opposed re-authorizing the Violence against Women Act, even though he knew What it meant when he opposed the Paycheck Fairness Act. We know Rand P was rightly Republican in similarly Voting against the Paycheck Act, and in his college secret Society promoted Anita B's views that oral *** was a sin. Perhaps they all need to look in the mirror and adhere to The Biblical adage that "He who is without sin should Cast the first stone" But what is sin anyway?
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Sexist Shtick
We often Owned, what We don’t Own. Being  Possessive, We become Invasive.                  - We often Neutralize, what We can’t Realize.                      - Full Realization comes after the Actual Destruction. Creating our own Ending. © Pax
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Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
We often destroy what We don't understand
I am the **** in your pristine garden, Hidden between the Hollyhocks and Petunias, Unwanted, I lift my head high, Invasive, pervasive, you hate me. You spray me with emotional roundup. You wish I would simply go away Crushed under your foot yesterday, I wilted under your hate. Resurrected by the creators love, In joy I dance to his music, That floats on the wind. I am a rose of Sharon, Planted firmly in the dirt. Hated by you for just being, The one who made me loves me, He loves me unconditionally. Planted in the wilderness, Where he walks in search Of those who seek his name. If you see me know that, he is near. Yet you hate me for being the **** Invasive that shows up in the cracks, Of your frequent well-beaten paths of hatred. You stomp on me, mangled I lie still. Revived by my God who loves me. Someday he will do justice, Someday he will show them mercy, Them that failed to love his creation. He animates me an earthen vessel, With emotions triggered by fluid actions, His loving smile, His tender touch, In his love and goodness, I find joy. The joy that effuses and rises to my brain, Like a flooding sea of contentment, Knowing that in him I have rest, I am secure and calm. From your bitterness, that floods my feet, He produces exquisite flowers and sweetest fruits. Freely I give the love I receive, As fragrance it wafts on the breeze, Used to the smell of death and dying, The Tanner smelling the fragrance of Love and Life faints. They revive him with curing leather from the tannery. Someday the tanner will appreciate fragrance, Someday the night shift miner appreciate the light, Someday those that cry for war will love peace, Someday those that hate others learn to love. Someday those that clang pots and pans in raucous cacophony, Will find peace and quiet in his sweet rhapsodies and quiet melodies. And the promoters of the ugliest of ugliness, Love the beauty of God's creation. Some day will this enslaved and captive soul fly free? Forever free in the plains of Eternity.
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Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
A Rose of Sharon
I am the **** in your pristine garden, Hidden between the Hollyhocks and Petunias, Unwanted, I lift my head high, Invasive, pervasive, you hate me. You spray me with emotional roundup. You wish I would simply go away Crushed under your foot yesterday, I wilted under your hate. Resurrected by the creators love, In joy I dance to his music, That floats on the wind. I am a rose of Sharon, Planted firmly in the dirt. Hated by you for just being, The one who made me loves me, He loves me unconditionally. Planted in the wilderness, Where he walks in search Of those who seek his name. If you see me know that, he is near. Yet you hate me for being the **** Invasive that shows up in the cracks, Of your frequent well-beaten paths of hatred. You stomp on me, mangled I lie still. Revived by my God who loves me. Someday he will do justice, Someday he will show them mercy, Them that failed to love his creation. He animates me an earthen vessel, With emotions triggered by fluid actions, His loving smile, His tender touch, In his love and goodness, I find joy. The joy that effuses and rises to my brain, Like a flooding sea of contentment, Knowing that in him I have rest, I am secure and calm. From your bitterness, that floods my feet, He produces exquisite flowers and sweetest fruits. Freely I give the love I receive, As fragrance it wafts on the breeze, Used to the smell of death and dying, The Tanner smelling the fragrance of Love and Life faints. They revive him with curing leather from the tannery. Someday the tanner will appreciate fragrance, Someday the night shift miner appreciate the light, Someday those that cry for war will love peace, Someday those that hate others learn to love. Someday those that clang pots and pans in raucous cacophony, Will find peace and quiet in his sweet rhapsodies and quiet melodies. And the promoters of the ugliest of ugliness, Love the beauty of God's creation. Some day will this enslaved and captive soul fly free? Forever free in the plains of Eternity.
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thrown into new understandings given earth beneath my feet taking what love I encounter falling harder never faster I grow from unbridled, invasive flowers seeking uncontrollable laughter escaping the soulless sorrow I am wild, free but still broken
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
(invasive flowers)
Chum floats the pool encircled by sharks and piranha a pity, nature's fool as fearful teeth do their work. Could they be as bad as I? Apex predator, Invasive species where it means to die as a means to live. Growth from a spineless cherub to a spiteful formless entity possessing a cunning golden scarab controlling wheels of fortune. Slaves to our own demands aren't we antagonists to someone else? With machinations of wicked plans to justify righteous intentions. Hypocrites line the tank tapping their fingers in rumination Abandoning morals, faces left blank. I am not your foil, I am a mirror.
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Apex Predators
is it love or the parasite ? my pilot bulk                       aims for relief        it pursues this via                             your romantic correction in public arena                   a library stair                     (i never prior encountered you) one step as foreigner         the approach and upon a swift internal pendulum i make witless incisions hurried mended sentences directed stuns invasive i demand the compromise                   of your company hastily push at boundaries and you're not so accommodating                                                  but on a further occasion same building we exchange a battering of conversation that    then        matures            into barter-like use of language despite my harassments   a civil cultivation is unearthed tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen loosen my demanding appearance disregard my dignity      a skin suit about the ankles you're open in a vein of similarity    you flesh out your own controls we've progressed quickly there's an aped conduct                  and flashing attitudes this time we share table space a nearby café we have become quite unmanned     repeated meet ups upon humours we adjust small habits     and shake on perceptions where we overlap it becomes    more an overlay of rationalities         than resented promises fast time passes and i move into your living space                                   i pick a wildflower                                                                    and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table we agree on its colour                                               we agree on a book to make our bible material we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share the clothes i am to wear i switch to your diet and you cease taking medications we sleep on your lawn like children and bring down the night sky for comfort during the day we wear our sleep               like a lubrication for our chores and go about our productivity               in genuine partnership yet i feel we're just out of reach             of some dark harm we are an excellent sample pair it is all vital we grow stronger the more we quiz it recycling our ********** refine our agreements await further impulses and come closer to plug so.. do we please love       or simply indulge a parasite ?
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Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
a cultivation
is it love or the parasite ? my pilot bulk                       aims for relief        it pursues this via                             your romantic correction in public arena                   a library stair                     (i never prior encountered you) one step as foreigner         the approach and upon a swift internal pendulum i make witless incisions hurried mended sentences directed stuns invasive i demand the compromise                   of your company hastily push at boundaries and you're not so accommodating                                                  but on a further occasion same building we exchange a battering of conversation that    then        matures            into barter-like use of language despite my harassments   a civil cultivation is unearthed tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen loosen my demanding appearance disregard my dignity      a skin suit about the ankles you're open in a vein of similarity    you flesh out your own controls we've progressed quickly there's an aped conduct                  and flashing attitudes this time we share table space a nearby café we have become quite unmanned     repeated meet ups upon humours we adjust small habits     and shake on perceptions where we overlap it becomes    more an overlay of rationalities         than resented promises fast time passes and i move into your living space                                   i pick a wildflower                                                                    and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table we agree on its colour                                               we agree on a book to make our bible material we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share the clothes i am to wear i switch to your diet and you cease taking medications we sleep on your lawn like children and bring down the night sky for comfort during the day we wear our sleep               like a lubrication for our chores and go about our productivity               in genuine partnership yet i feel we're just out of reach             of some dark harm we are an excellent sample pair it is all vital we grow stronger the more we quiz it recycling our ********** refine our agreements await further impulses and come closer to plug so.. do we please love       or simply indulge a parasite ?
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77
When they came to my island, the hero and his crew (more like an invasive species of uninvited animals) The rot from their unwashed feet spilled everywhere-- infestations of foul-- They plucked grapes from my vines slowly, with pride, as if they kept them themselves, They came into my cave and stole sheep’s milk and cheese-- The blessed feta: vanished!! And you wonder why I snacked on two--I had nothing else! They disregarded emptied wine bottles in clusters in the sand, Kept me awake in the evening with boisterous, hoglike squeals. And when I let out a scream myself, A cry to my native land, to my father, I spotted my herds scurrying from the cave, with little hands floating atop their fur, Then came the electrifying pain I see a staff, feel the hit, become disabled. They took everything and left me blinded And he is still the hero? He told me he was Nobody.
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Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
Sympathy for Cyclops
The children adore it and wait all year for the cold winter comfort and the saturating cheer They fidget and pace all through December making lists of the gifts That they did not remember. They climb upon Santa eyes shining brightly fingers clutching their lists ever so tightly. They stutter and stammer forget what to say resigned to waiting for that magical day. Xmas eve evening so full of excitement they dream of the morning wondrous delightment. The parents abhor it and wait with dread the upcoming gathering the breaking of bread. The family you avoid the rest of the year the drinking, the gossip the pains in your rear. The endless instruction batteries galore the wrapping and hiding the locked closet door. The last minute shopping Black Friday stampede to grant their wishes to satiate their need. Its finally over the end is nigh the morning of Christmas the end of the lie. The atheist ignores it as best he can it is pretty invasive and he is only a man. A fat man, a baby flying moose in the skies horrible, endless music but at least there are pies. It begins in October the feast for the dead the next day there's Jesus in his tiny, wooden bed A story of divinity passed through the ages bastardized and broken parchment thin pages Roman gift giving European "Christmas" trees A Greek gift giving saint Shepherds on their knees Supernova signals Norseman's Mistletoe A donkey, a sleigh Coca Cola's ** ** ** Saturnarian or Pagan Christian or Jew Happy Holidays to everyone From: Atheist, To: You
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
Christmas
The children adore it and wait all year for the cold winter comfort and the saturating cheer They fidget and pace all through December making lists of the gifts That they did not remember. They climb upon Santa eyes shining brightly fingers clutching their lists ever so tightly. They stutter and stammer forget what to say resigned to waiting for that magical day. Xmas eve evening so full of excitement they dream of the morning wondrous delightment. The parents abhor it and wait with dread the upcoming gathering the breaking of bread. The family you avoid the rest of the year the drinking, the gossip the pains in your rear. The endless instruction batteries galore the wrapping and hiding the locked closet door. The last minute shopping Black Friday stampede to grant their wishes to satiate their need. Its finally over the end is nigh the morning of Christmas the end of the lie. The atheist ignores it as best he can it is pretty invasive and he is only a man. A fat man, a baby flying moose in the skies horrible, endless music but at least there are pies. It begins in October the feast for the dead the next day there's Jesus in his tiny, wooden bed A story of divinity passed through the ages bastardized and broken parchment thin pages Roman gift giving European "Christmas" trees A Greek gift giving saint Shepherds on their knees Supernova signals Norseman's Mistletoe A donkey, a sleigh Coca Cola's ** ** ** Saturnarian or Pagan Christian or Jew Happy Holidays to everyone From: Atheist, To: You
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I begin to ponder, What humans have turned mother nature into. Greed, greed, greed. Humans complain about invasive species. Yet we pay no mind that we, as humans, are the invasive species. Greed, greed, greed. We take things for granted, Ruin the place we call home But why? Greed, greed, greed.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Greed
Let nature forever humble you. For one day it shall elude; Let the mountains leave you breathless Let the rain soothe your soul Let sunshine kiss your back Spend time in nature. For one day you'll have none left; Swim in the creek Sleep in a meadow Count the stars Breathe the morning air Cherish nature. We are the most invasive species on this earth. The trees cannot scream out for help. The ocean has no tears. The glaciers cannot protest. Stand up for what you stand on.
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Nature
When people ask me about my first love, I remember the smell of melted crayons. Not your smile, your golden skin, or the way your face would wrinkle in deep thought. But about the carelessness of a child in your backseat, And how with help from the sun, your car was forever perfumed by a melted, purple Crayola. I grew to love this scent. It's an odd thing to even say aloud now. However, it's permanently imprinted in my mind. Over summers spent in your car and nights staring into your eyes, I grew infatuated with this waxy, sweet aroma that filled the air between us. It became your cologne that stayed with my clothes while you were away, My comfort when you were near. It was never sickening or invasive, But desired and wanted. So when people ask me about my first love, I tell them about this boy who always smelled of crayons and how much I miss him.
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Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC
J,
An unexpected virus came Diabolically and odiously. Sniffles like missiles; We will cough Green-brown phlegm And seaweed; Eyes itch with sweat; Throats sound guttural warnings; Muscles ache from making The sign of the cross in European monasteries; The tentacles are spreading, grasping, holding hard; A boy lies face down on the firewall Like a tethered goat, Invasive, infectious and deadly. The body politik has been exposed, Vulnerable and fallible.
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
The Firewall's Down