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"invoice" poems
a draper is someone who creates garments or patterns by draping fabric directly onto a dress form (Wikipedia) ~~~~ I am a draper, by trade, by nature, by instinct; a fling of one arm across her body, while she dreams and sleeps, rambles, mumbles, and even convulses, to hold her tight with two, with both, soon grows discomforting as the blood ceases to flow, the heat breeds unsweetened sweat, and the snuggling impact, is too fast subsumed by the pins and needles numbing, deadening, and ironical attenuation this is my pattern, how I address her, how I dress her, draping my contiguous, drawing five fingers upon her form, reshaping her in her sleep, the arm flung, there, and then there, to be hung, at varied places across her body, higher lower, above below, but her face, free and clear, so not to interfere with her sensory preceptors and as I draw my pattern upon her skin, her body whole, listening her to indeterminate utterances, to determine which pitter patter pattern to which. she feels best suited, then, I prepare my invoice for her, for services rendered, to present upon awakening, demanding in voice, by her voice, payment in words, of her own chosen amuse-bouche, mmmm, will it be? good morning my love? hello you! or just an indiscriminate but yet, a discriminating sound of having been pleasured by unknown forces in her deeper sleep, using her lips to say, to hum, to sing, a genteel unspecific but, and yet, a terrific, deep from within guttural remittance, the sound of a delicious, mmmmmming greeting a new equinoxal gale of a refreshing fresh birthing, fulsome already satisfying draping of the day
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Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 5:01 PM UTC
The Draper (draw my pattern upon her skin)
a draper is someone who creates garments or patterns by draping fabric directly onto a dress form (Wikipedia) ~~~~ I am a draper, by trade, by nature, by instinct; a fling of one arm across her body, while she dreams and sleeps, rambles, mumbles, and even convulses, to hold her tight with two, with both, soon grows discomforting as the blood ceases to flow, the heat breeds unsweetened sweat, and the snuggling impact, is too fast subsumed by the pins and needles numbing, deadening, and ironical attenuation this is my pattern, how I address her, how I dress her, draping my contiguous, drawing five fingers upon her form, reshaping her in her sleep, the arm flung, there, and then there, to be hung, at varied places across her body, higher lower, above below, but her face, free and clear, so not to interfere with her sensory preceptors and as I draw my pattern upon her skin, her body whole, listening her to indeterminate utterances, to determine which pitter patter pattern to which. she feels best suited, then, I prepare my invoice for her, for services rendered, to present upon awakening, demanding in voice, by her voice, payment in words, of her own chosen amuse-bouche, mmmm, will it be? good morning my love? hello you! or just an indiscriminate but yet, a discriminating sound of having been pleasured by unknown forces in her deeper sleep, using her lips to say, to hum, to sing, a genteel unspecific but, and yet, a terrific, deep from within guttural remittance, the sound of a delicious, mmmmmming greeting a new equinoxal gale of a refreshing fresh birthing, fulsome already satisfying draping of the day
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Brush the dog tenderly Create the time Slowly, gently caress the cat Doesn't it feel fine? Stroke her jaw, her chin Scratch around her ears Feel her lean into your hands For she has not words nor tears Give your weary sweetheart An attentive foot massage Invest some time in affection Praise her new hat or corsage For a moment, be their reflection Water your plants Spritz the leaves, and a little new soil Take just a minute It's such an easy yet rewarding toil Go for a slow walk with your beloved Taste the evening air Give her your ear Visit a reflective place there Create for her room to ruminate About her aches and pains About her ailing Uncle Bob About her new job Touch her cheek gently On your pillow at night Before your eyes they close Before dreams so fleeting and light Say something small, sweet and simple About you and her and your heart Not about that invoice or pimple Or what you both need to dissect apart For magical, hidden roots are growing! Or languishing as they will Simple, daily things nurture them Not a one-time magic bullet or pill Marlowe once said, "Talk not of wasted affection!   Affection never was wasted!" Water the hungry hearts around you And the juiciness of life Will be the sweetest you've ever tasted
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Affection Reflections
building up a big mountain then tear it down give it to the clowns nosebleed for a feast endless bottom as a treat *it’ll likes get up tear it down it’ll likes get up tear it down* trail of tears chopped off nail of thoughts stopped short ego invoice taking drugs fat berg sewer horrible vanity *it’ll likes get up tear it down it’ll likes get up tear it down*
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
super genetic
these days a visit to the doctor is quite dear and it fills the patient with a great deal of fear consultation charges are well above inflation but if you don't pay the set fee you'll receive not proper medical investigation the day before yesterday I went to see my quack and when I got the invoice I was taken aback GP's are making really big bucks by treating themselves to the ailing person's money trucks
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
Visting The Doctor
To see the abnormal in the usual To spy a quaint sliver of seperation A stutter of fluidity; fluidity primary The unknown subjection personified These idealistic constructions forever permeating Where currents join in twitching pools, swaying to let their particles cloister and vibrate with infusing spasms that dispel and attract- Creating the magnetism of substance Blank resound bliss Drunk on a thousand drops Vindicated from a thousand poisons Reborn at grid dot Flowing invoice implode All afterward foreshadowing Being this precursor Not an equation to be witnessed with the surgical pangs of intellect Arbitrary Problematic Instigative None of this Something ness Of the womb sea Blank resound bliss without tributaries though sensing its leaks After Big Bang of suitor system silt Wanton to multiply Rabid and violent In conquest of joy and earth What I bring to light My depths are dark Empty is the surface Empty is my sleep
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Instinct Wisdom
A man with a hundred faces but nameless with one voice A thousand thoughts a second but one life to live it, where's the choice Never found much of a reason to rejoice Worthless or not worth it, the math's not adding up on this invoice A million phrases, can't remember faces Thoughts escape the mind, breaking free of their cages The visual is heinous, it feels dangerous I can't explain what's going on but they tell me this is only the beginning stages Time turns pages but they're all reflective, hold them to the flame, more failure through the ages Dr Jekyll lost, tossed into the void, annoyed as Mr. Hyde rages Whatever it is, for everyone else's sake, I hope it's not contagious Stay cautious ©2024
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Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 3:41 PM UTC
~•§•~ Thoughts Beyond the Boundaries ~•§•~
ive been starin a long time at this body mine ragged, alien, hollow, watch me give a **** shattered frames leanin walls, been and gone talkin times too long before my shoulder glance got permanent he says that now i cant quit starin up from in his pit i done been done writhing with but hes right aint he dont like bein told where to be aint heard him since, aint no one aint none my goals done hesitate and die, son it aint about you bout the goods lemme getcha eyes pretty blue got a whole stash upstairs sleepin with the ***** nightstand ima take advantage of all this rain playing the game and ill see you shakin, chained to ya fear, past choice, belated invoice shoulda kept ya ride clean
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:29 AM UTC
golden boy (II)
I know the good and the bad of it Where the pendulum has swung And where it intends to swing next My body is filled with the knowledge of it Poisoned marrow mixed in my bones With a fresh prescription of penicillin An invoice sitting on the coffee table waiting to be paid My hand hovering over an overflowing astray Holding a half smoked and forgotten about cigarette A dust pan prompted against the stool it’s on My growling liver eating the contents of my wallet Leaving a receipt from the ABC store clinging to the condensation Moistening the bottle of left out *** This feeling of post apogee The silent deafening moment Of situational actualization The view from the tipping point that lingers just long enough To still see every vantage point, the good and the bad of it all.
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Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Post-Apogee.
~I too have a dream Oh, what a beautiful morning, I wonder what's going to happen to spoil it, what's going to befall me. There are so many possibilities of things going wrong, not going my way, I don't even want to imagine. Why cannot I just sit quietly enjoying the sunshiny day? The phone may ring bringing bad news, I may lose my beloved to the the world. An unexpected invoice I forgot to pay might appear in my mail box, the weather may change and out of the blue day a thunderstorm and rain. Will I pay dearly for seeing everything only in shades of grey? Then the tones of "The New World Symphony" with motifs of Bohemian village dances, the hustle and bustle of American cities, native Indian drums drumming bring the image of peace; of pursuit of happiness on both of my continents. Impossible dream, you say? Author Notes *~Largo from the 'New World' Symphony (1893) by the Czech composer Antonin Dvorak; and is probably the most famous piece of the composition played at all American state funerals.*
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Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 2:12 PM UTC
New World Symphony
SCAR SCAR SCAR its your choice, your voice SCAR SCAR SCAR invoice for your worldly possessions SCAR SCAR SCAR ****** you with cold obsession SCAR SCAR SCAR draw blood from the warm thighs and cold hands of little girls BRUISE SCAR CUT SCAR SCRAPE SCAR SCAR SCAR look me in the ******* eyes bleed me a river of *** and tears DESTROY ME AND YOURSELF make me your prey VICTIMIZE ME VICTIMIZE ME VICTIMIZE ME
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 7:07 AM UTC
angel's angle
Of course this poem procures no great wonderment nor does it produce any invoice that would bring heat, to the mind of the reader, nor from the placement of ink from the printer. Of course it does produce itself from form from form-ness of itself in itself but brings no cure and no ills, it just is ‘being ‘ That course is never truer or less of a test when there is no phenomena of its appearance, Of Course it has none
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
Of Course
Seven hours passed as she danced With a fervor That didn't last There were fire works which popped Due to an inspiration in art Which was bound to stop We are ****** We can't duck Our time here ain't much Look at these stars which twinkle with illusion Of money, claps, an ego in fusion Oh the illusion Fast, slow, type and low This voice and that voice Just another invoice Too many red letters Sent to one another Which were a return to sender Help this time? Just another speedy Rewind We do not need help We have it all here In nature we only fear To wait To wait To wait For what? That big break? That political debate? That juicy steak? Satisfy a saturated empty soul Thousands dead in endless holes There are dice needed to roll Enter Leave Re-enter You've got The disease
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Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 8:09 PM UTC
Seven Hours Have Passed
/0/Illusion of choice /0/0/0/0/and half of us cannot even see our internal invoice /0/Our choices are prepaid for us. choose to do nothing while we are hooked on what we think is a must/070/our addiction becomes a relapse. /00/ times for our mind to succumb into collapse//096/Dividing into what you think is control/06/Dangerous organized power overflow//01//hooked upon hope/ distortion of  reality//07/' another string added to our rope that is choking and dividing us/223/0to the point of death while they are watching//0/ and surveying our ****** dismemberment//0921/and they expect me to have grips of sentiment to this dis-array of lost hope67/// reality is questioned as your eyes and ears are not seen as is////0 this is true dysfunction and the s33ds of new corruption/0/// question the S!MULATION///0// Isolation/// suicide rates are higher than ever and then once your g0ne you are lost forever/desire to connect together/I AM here you are al0ne/ alternative ways to throw a stone/// ParAnoia actions that are questionable/ unreliable/undivide-able/// the days move on with regularly/09/ while the corruption comes alive periodically/// if you wake up in a different time/in a different place/could you wake up as a different person//0 staples of my unstable state of mind/09/// numb the pa!n and don't die in va!n
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 5:00 PM UTC
Illusion 0f Choice404
live life with enthusiasm destined hardiness due to the harshness Lacking the right guidance with so many choices we all interpretive heartfelt condolences to the families who have been a incurious "Should be" as in past tense goes without saying some individuals are not capable to accelerate but we all have those interject with situations enough is enough just make it deploy indiscretion instead of misperception Questions will not always have a answer to your concerns faith is the only thing we can believe in You settle for the well-written incentive purpose This is only the blueprint to or construction build to your desire Cherish,be grateful, prefer a Just way disaffection those unavoidable dreams.
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
Invoice
Your head, A taxing mess, An echo of 100 voices screaming frantically, In a burning stadium, It’ll dispatch you an invoice made of invincible paper, Of sleep and appetite, Of scruffily chewed nail tips. Your dog will be okay, It’s an inflammatory bump, Your plant hasn’t died, The green it shows now has not been accounted yet, Even by the computers, The curve is not so steep, That poem, Not so shoddy, Stop swelling illusory bridges with concrete, Your head is resting on a very thin sheet of ice, Stop jostling, Or you will drown
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Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 11:55 AM UTC
Day 1: A letter to your younger self.
*Sound of the morn , songbird articulations over - colored Maple , Hickory leaf lanes and sky blue-gray portraits                                                       To the face in the clouds , a toast at the wake of surreality Concurring melancholy's invoice with stoic individuality For the benefit of worn repetitive thoughts , a culled mouth filled with morning wine , Sugar pine fortresses delay the burgeoning warmth of day , rain waters seek their level whilst the privately insane find themselves addressing their taut vulnerability* .....
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May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 11:19 PM UTC
Dawn ...
Darkening embers, drinks at dawn One last echo of you, begone My only request that you stop and think Existance is realitive, it burns as we sink Like tear gas in my eyes Pepper spray in my wind pipe Constantly rethinking my last choice Conscience mailing me the invoice Delibrating with a magic 8, My voice starts to shake But talking to you is like talking to a wall I can't see you suffer when I'm in free fall Tell me why is this happening, It's like a record on repeat My own 20 second record staying on my feet Before you sweep me off and brush me aside, I'll count while you hide stinging like a bee But you were always a firefly Would it be any different if you weren't perfect to me? Without my distorted view on everything you do Would it be easier if you didn't have this affect on me? Barely getting by, still killing me every night
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 9:10 AM UTC
Come down
Time went bittersweet, Hopes and dreams are shaping, including her sense of style, sketchy colors from her attire From roots to fruits, colorful wheel of truth her mates could have similar thoughts, that her body lies and changes contour an invoice of ****** characteristics, continuously develop, are you one of the assets?  Hotter than a winter season, bridges a glimpse of ****** desire The pursuit of independence, Her identity is prominent She could be artist in many ways, So do you, A singer, dancer or a writer, But she’s now logical, an abstract dealer, or in many ways, an idealistic painter She saw the world, simply using her feathers she thinks matches the weather, but most of the time, she fakes and heal from prayers, that one day she’ll know most, of executive’s duties or more
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Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
Her Adolescence
scraping enough coin together isn't a sought after chore there's always a payment needed to settle an invoice's score the wage packet slim ever stretched right out no surplus bucks for a good bandy about being short of funds that's the jingle to sing a red ink cheque account can't afford any bling luxury items are but a rich codger's domain being well cashed up with plenty of grain money has us under the veritable gun a lack of it ain't much fun the landlord has called to collect the rent   he'll get paid and it'll leave a wallet dent
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Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 9:03 PM UTC
Wallet Dent
Contemplating self immolation at a movie theater , somewhere in America , how many shots will take out the maximum amount of targets , children unknowingly face their mortality at a popular location . Placed a call with God , on a cellular phone , need clarification on what constitutes abomination before his high court ? He's busy with affairs of his own , so here's a message for you all with my gun ...Totality minus reason ! Woke up at three a.m. . Deaths invoice begs , at what price liberty ? Malevolent ,  homegrown terror , ostensibly the lesser of two evils , killing future Nobel Laureates or a promising young Doctor that solved the cure for cancer , sadly at peace , face down ..Ringing .. Message from Mom , distressed , on a cellular phone , are you busy with affairs of your own ? When are you coming home ?
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Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
Red Days
An After-Market Warranty for my Catholic Space Laser              “...tremulous little people of dim intellect and hyperactive                imagination...need that Wondrous Explanation that will                quiet all their fears, thrill them with villains to revile, and                never tax their feeble powers of intellection.”                         -John D. MacDonald, Reading for Survival The Great Texas Emu Bubble, crop circles Power crystals, cryptocurrency Jewish space lasers, messages from Q Lizard people abducted by aliens Enron, obey the science, the settled science Chloroquine, tulips, herd immunity Your Norton has expired, buy magic beans Invoice #666 needs to be paid today Your uncle in Nigeria is in lots of trouble And don’t forget the South Sea Bubble
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May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 6:28 PM UTC
An After-Market Warranty for my Catholic Space Laser
The curse of the night Is the blure in my life The Things I took, weren't nice They Show me a spooky sight Scars like tattoos on my skin Telling the stories I went in The game I played, I will not win It made me live in the city of sin But this city is tearing me down This city, full of strange clowns And the odd beast is wearing the crown And I'm wearing the queens gown I tried to find a way So I can leave the city today But all the ways lead to stay Trapped in the city, no way away I hear a haunted voice It was to much but not your choice Now I have to pay the invoice I hear the creepy drum beat noise It's the army of death I have no breath They're comming, to bring me to the depth To chamber of the undead A ringing voice, hey sis come back I looked at the door, I hear it crack And then around me, only black The earth was quaking and I felt a whack My mind flew through space I came back to my place I saw my brothers face The paramedic said "We have to go, no time to waste"
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Aug 23, 2024
Aug 23, 2024 at 12:02 PM UTC
The curse of the night