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"ires" poems
Tying off every sentence Before formation You leave so many knots to develop Forming a physical Representation Of deeper ires and darker fears Than that which crosses Daily paths So many rescinds It begins to feel Ordinary To reject and pull out Of living these Daily paths Soon the ache transcends Mentality, emotional core Shivers itself down Strips and tears itself out Emerging as A surface twitch Developing to Repetitive kinks Growing cancerous hives, you carry monstrous minds Hulking demons that force you From daily paths
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
daily paths
Choose in life the tranquil path paved with peace devoid of wrath where every woman and man love makes welcome hate does ban. Once found - you can never stray from the quiet tenor of its way. . Great your burden, heavy the load: weightless it feels upon that road where briar, thorns and bramble give way before you as you ramble along a route of stingless nettle and calm and joy upon you settle... Dispelling sadness, soothing pain; cooling your ires as gentle rain. They, who would this pathway find are those who caring ever mind their neighbour, known or strange through all this worldly range. Dry your tears, greet the smile bravely face each yearly mile; be calm, be kind and you will never lose sight of the pathway that you must choose. Tobias
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
THE PATHWAY
Anger will devour love Love loses appetite. Turning it to hatred, slowly in every fight Anger will eat respect. Respect is chewed by seethe. In disgust respect will die leaving its love to grieve. Anger will swallow joy, and happiness is chewed. Ires bitter after taste, in spittle and abuse. Anger will devour love and love will run its course. Anger gets just desserts, when anger is divorced. ©Jacqui Slade
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
Anger
sangkutsa— sana'y kartada nuwebe stove -- so much inner blue in this gruesomeness, still soft is the orifice, maiming the speech whirling in warm press; hand -- to just blindingly toss out in wording it so that then this is true: we once had each other in the simmer of feelings, leaving our shadows crazy-eyed in elegiac silence. rawness -- boiled to a broth: thawing largeness, tipping away in and of feeling. final stages --- half-done in waiting, half-undone in wanting. darkness condoles with the aperture of clouds twitching to rain tritely against the tiled floor. islands of wet footmarks make the traverse viciously slippery on my way to your side of breathing. all of it -- hand's gentle breeze, salt of lake-eyes, melee of tactical pressures sizing down spots gleamed and honeyed with ires. a hiss on landscaped neck where a peregrinating perfume sits, feverish with desire and nothing else, blood boiling, whistling through the pores are the saltine sweat poised, almost for the mouth's readiness in consummation.
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Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Sangkutsa (Notes On)
There’s a darkness that crawls within Seeping through veins Coursing through limbs Fury of ten thousand waves Crashing against the shore Anger’s rampage and furor to abhor The strength of invincibility Masked with pain Mistaken for strength when it’s rage Its mission now is to consume the soul To find the source And destroy the core Finding its way Through its muddy trails Feeling elated and yet with despair Looking for something Bright and serene Onward it goes to destroy its gleam The endless travails Through rocky roads Leading to places it will erode At the corner of lies Amidst valleys of corruption Straight to the cave of total disruption Where faith is entombed And hope is not seen Right in the street of lost dreams But deep in the sunset At a distance a sight An island of love and wondrous might Landed to destroy The Holy contrary of ires The divine, supreme, blessed fire The Spirit is there Tall and bright Ready to protect the soul’s life Denying entry Of that black shadow That will raise its bow and shoot its arrow The armor of goodness Will not go down And the shield of truth will stand its ground Dare if you may To cross the line The sword of love will slay the malign Fear and hate Is what you are Trying to consume those near and far You can fight And you can persist The soul will have my strength to resist I am the light That forever shines And it will embrace all who are mine Life is precious This I’ll save With every breath till the end of days
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Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 11:44 AM UTC
Anger's Battle
There’s a darkness that crawls within Seeping through veins Coursing through limbs Fury of ten thousand waves Crashing against the shore Anger’s rampage and furor to abhor The strength of invincibility Masked with pain Mistaken for strength when it’s rage Its mission now is to consume the soul To find the source And destroy the core Finding its way Through its muddy trails Feeling elated and yet with despair Looking for something Bright and serene Onward it goes to destroy its gleam The endless travails Through rocky roads Leading to places it will erode At the corner of lies Amidst valleys of corruption Straight to the cave of total disruption Where faith is entombed And hope is not seen Right in the street of lost dreams But deep in the sunset At a distance a sight An island of love and wondrous might Landed to destroy The Holy contrary of ires The divine, supreme, blessed fire The Spirit is there Tall and bright Ready to protect the soul’s life Denying entry Of that black shadow That will raise its bow and shoot its arrow The armor of goodness Will not go down And the shield of truth will stand its ground Dare if you may To cross the line The sword of love will slay the malign Fear and hate Is what you are Trying to consume those near and far You can fight And you can persist The soul will have my strength to resist I am the light That forever shines And it will embrace all who are mine Life is precious This I’ll save With every breath till the end of days
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57
What a Cnut! (13) Lazy river bends twist through ages past. scoring dark foreboding lines between the course and curse. Forgotten pits, tombs long and vast bear pain. This sufferance an ancient source behind whose name, Ozymandias, who? Forgotten one, with statuette and dust; With little plot of land presenting; cue besotted fans and weeping stands and rust -ed crimson stains. Pyramids worn and sunned. Grizzled maws gnaw foxholes. Anxious shadows creep, kettling the dreams of untold freedom long since sold. The sons of emp-ires fade. Mocking wizened worries and wet laird Cnut, who knocking heads with entropy slumbers cut.
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Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
What a Cnut!