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"justifiable" poems
but have you noticed, have you noticed how  all mental health problems stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category; i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers; it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns. it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality, the aether virus attacks the pronoun on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use of pronouns, when a king casually says of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively; so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering? the pronoun category is weak from day one, because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer to have weak thinking and strength in knowing, for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing, i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall. so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals - while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals, but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals! but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness, in that segregational aspect of things "sorted," why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage compared to a strength in other grammatical categories? why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns? the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked, and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
0
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
plank v. veneer via grasshoppers
but have you noticed, have you noticed how  all mental health problems stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category; i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers; it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns. it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality, the aether virus attacks the pronoun on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use of pronouns, when a king casually says of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively; so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering? the pronoun category is weak from day one, because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer to have weak thinking and strength in knowing, for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing, i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall. so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals - while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals, but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals! but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness, in that segregational aspect of things "sorted," why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage compared to a strength in other grammatical categories? why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns? the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked, and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
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45
I hate labels. so you may ask me why do you compulsively put words and purposes and dates and times on everything you have. I hate labels but I love organization. The problem with labels is they rarely tell the whole story. Labels are short, just a snapshot of the essence that the thing or person boils down to but I don’t believe anything can really be that simple. Labels can make everything easier. You get the main point, the thing that stands out, FAST. but that’s like starting a story at it’s ****** you get no previous information and that high point that holds so much meaning if you've read the entire story turns flat. A flat character doesn’t grow or change or feel all that much but they usually have a label. Labels turn real multidimensional, complicated, interesting people into flat characters. He is not gay. She is not a cutter. and He is not transgender. They are real people and you cannot possibly fit a person into a single worded description of the thing that stands out about them or makes them different. That is not enough for me! The gay guy likes ice cream and romantic comedies, he's afraid of commitment, that scar is from his own blade and he volunteers on Wednesdays. The cutter is seventeen and she lives with her grandparents. Almost everybody shes loved has walked away. She has hair the color of sand at the beach and she wants to work in security at the airport so she can finally have control over who leaves and who stays. The transgender man never felt trapped in the wrong body, the world just told him that his body was wrong. He’s a freshman in college and nobody ever told him how hard it would be. He calls his mom every night because he knows she worries and he cares. He has skin the color of caramel and he desperately wants to get married. I hope you now understand that a label is never never enough. You could argue that I’m afraid of being defined and of defining others with just a word, but if you ask me a fear of labels is a very legitimate, considerate, and justifiable fear to have. Labels are simply not enough. And that's why I hate labels.
0
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
Why I Hate Labels
I hate labels. so you may ask me why do you compulsively put words and purposes and dates and times on everything you have. I hate labels but I love organization. The problem with labels is they rarely tell the whole story. Labels are short, just a snapshot of the essence that the thing or person boils down to but I don’t believe anything can really be that simple. Labels can make everything easier. You get the main point, the thing that stands out, FAST. but that’s like starting a story at it’s ****** you get no previous information and that high point that holds so much meaning if you've read the entire story turns flat. A flat character doesn’t grow or change or feel all that much but they usually have a label. Labels turn real multidimensional, complicated, interesting people into flat characters. He is not gay. She is not a cutter. and He is not transgender. They are real people and you cannot possibly fit a person into a single worded description of the thing that stands out about them or makes them different. That is not enough for me! The gay guy likes ice cream and romantic comedies, he's afraid of commitment, that scar is from his own blade and he volunteers on Wednesdays. The cutter is seventeen and she lives with her grandparents. Almost everybody shes loved has walked away. She has hair the color of sand at the beach and she wants to work in security at the airport so she can finally have control over who leaves and who stays. The transgender man never felt trapped in the wrong body, the world just told him that his body was wrong. He’s a freshman in college and nobody ever told him how hard it would be. He calls his mom every night because he knows she worries and he cares. He has skin the color of caramel and he desperately wants to get married. I hope you now understand that a label is never never enough. You could argue that I’m afraid of being defined and of defining others with just a word, but if you ask me a fear of labels is a very legitimate, considerate, and justifiable fear to have. Labels are simply not enough. And that's why I hate labels.
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25
everything echoes mother. the paranoia. the ****** abuse the tears the screaming the threats the self-hatred the abandonment. do i understand her more now that i am her? the only thing i understand is that i like her am weak her actions no more justifiable than before but her state of mind the frantic chase of terrified, irrational thoughts littering her brain i now understand and feel the fear
0
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
genetics
I've often wondered if sometimes, if at all There's a part of you-even if just a tiny bit That resents me for the things I've taken away Without your knowledge It's justifiable you know, I'll understand if you do I mean I resent me too at times I wouldn't blame you But you, with eyes wide closed, Heart open look beyond all of me And I realize, Things aren't always black and white There's a thin line in between Harboring all that's good within, Looking beyond the imperfections, And it's you. You're the warm blanket we all need, A perpetual calendar of inspiration for me And most. Let your aspirations guide to better things, Be drawn to success like a moth to a flame, Careful not to burn your wings, Or to let people step on your cape You're more than what you see in the mirror The love you have within you radiates To form an everlasting echo that transcends Beyond definition Finding reflections of each other in our hearts And that's where , not anywhere else We'll keep each other safe, warm and protected For someday, this is all we'll have-memories
0
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
To My Sister
72 hours in I'm giving serious thought to drinking the Listerine. The ***** is it's citrus flavored. I can't even rinse with that toxic concoction, let alone swallow it, but I'm running out of options. I finished my other MacGyvers-- the Nyquil was first to go, followed by a Dimetapp chaser   (the cherry,      not a refreshing grape-flavored one) and a shot of Wal-fed that induced indigestion. My kingdom for a belt of whiskey-- maybe a snifter of *** You know you're bottoming out when you wax nostalgic for drunken days when soiling yourself was justifiable due to your general state of disarray. I'm the **** that adheres to the bottom of the barrel— ******* in the shower with my shoes on, pants removed as a cautionary measure. Not that life can get worse; nothing trumps waking up miserable, sore,    jobless,      alone,        queasy,          woozy and            drooling uncontrollably and lacking ***** to blame it on.
0
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC
Falling Off the Wagon
U gave me that leaf, & said u were never gonna leave, Cause we were meant to live, now I have to Outlive & conceive the pain of grieve, Who are u to tell me when to meditate? Please go your way and don't dictate, I have been born to innovate, Learn from me and don't aggravate, Why dig into my past just to excavate things and deliberate , Yet you imitate and commentate and say it irritates, Never hesitate to prostate, Cause it elevate and motivates my innovative. Even if your silences grieve so loud in my ears, I will never freeze, I will always leave, Because I never lived, I am never relief, I can't be pleased, Even when u sneeze. It only aggravates my pain when I eat, Dats the reason I refused to breath. How can you call me fake When that's what you are, What you are is what I say , What I have seen is what am saying.. Fake, fake, fake, Fake u are like fanta Colorful yet distrustful Great pleasure Hidden smile, Full of Fantasy, deceitful u are. You said u were my friend, then why stab me twice and expect me to talk once, U have twined &twisted; me, Enough of the Glossy bossy, mischievous in motivation, Malicious in thought, Why judge when you can settle to be a judge in a jungle Stop been unjustly, & learn to be justifiable, Now it's time for u to leave , superstitiously I have lived suspicious u have been, Dangerous you have become, Unpredictable you are , You're definitely a ********* You're never my friend
0
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
FAKE FRIENDS
Anxiously awaiting atomic assimilation Basing me on belligerent and boorish bastardization Capsizing cargo with careful consideration as to Deciding which day is decay's destination Everyone embrace the elevated expiration Forget my face and follow fabrication Go to the gallows with grace and gravitation He will hold you and hinder alienation I, however, hold insignificance in interest Justifiable jackhammers jacking fighter jets Killing Californians who are kissing canvases Lying without laughing and lighting cigarettes My master makes me move my mundane mind Never knowing next to nothing with nothing else inside Overly offering operating override Practicing patiently pulling peoples' pride Quickly questioning quizzical quietness Rationalizing raging reinventions ridiculous Stapling this summer to my (still) sick subconscious Traveling tunnelers trading tides for tiredness Under the umbrella my undertow untangles Violently vibrating like varying violin angles Waiting with wandering whispers under the table Xylophonist x-rays, excruciating fables You yellow youngling, you who screams in my dreams Zebras zoom by every single night, it seems Let's chant my enchantments, the alliteration song! And untie your tongue So you don't take it wrong.
0
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
The Alliteration Song!
He saw her drop a wallet and nobody saw it He returned it without her seeing it and she was glad there was no thank you, no need to feel indebted to, no need to reciprocate, no belittling of the effort to not feel grateful, no aggrandizement of the effort to reward overly to the point of removing, no self-praise----all just a quiet act of kindness but then someone did see him and blamed him for taking it in the first place and not only was the act not appreciated but it was scorned, misinterpreted, misunderstood, confused, defamed and finally damned. When kindness is ****** could there be any greater crime? The act was kindness and nobody understood it, and everyone jumped to conclusions, and everyone found one reason to **** for another reason, and nobody took the extra time, caring, compassion, and thoroughness and patience and love it would have taken to find out the truth---so the the greatest crime prevailed---far greater than the act that was understood to be the "justifiable damnation", but isn't it always the breeding grounds for justifiable damnation when conclusions about the biggest things in life are so quickly assumed to be true when they aren't. Reverse the crime with patience, love, understanding, caring being thorough, being careful, and remember the act of returning the wallet held such integrity that your shine will show the light to everyone else sooner or later but your light will forever shine regardless so don't unjustifiably **** yourself either---love yourself---and thank you for returning the wallet
0
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
Wallet Returned
He saw her drop a wallet and nobody saw it He returned it without her seeing it and she was glad there was no thank you, no need to feel indebted to, no need to reciprocate, no belittling of the effort to not feel grateful, no aggrandizement of the effort to reward overly to the point of removing, no self-praise----all just a quiet act of kindness but then someone did see him and blamed him for taking it in the first place and not only was the act not appreciated but it was scorned, misinterpreted, misunderstood, confused, defamed and finally damned. When kindness is ****** could there be any greater crime? The act was kindness and nobody understood it, and everyone jumped to conclusions, and everyone found one reason to **** for another reason, and nobody took the extra time, caring, compassion, and thoroughness and patience and love it would have taken to find out the truth---so the the greatest crime prevailed---far greater than the act that was understood to be the "justifiable damnation", but isn't it always the breeding grounds for justifiable damnation when conclusions about the biggest things in life are so quickly assumed to be true when they aren't. Reverse the crime with patience, love, understanding, caring being thorough, being careful, and remember the act of returning the wallet held such integrity that your shine will show the light to everyone else sooner or later but your light will forever shine regardless so don't unjustifiably **** yourself either---love yourself---and thank you for returning the wallet
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4
Conditional beyond reasonable Is how our relationship sometimes feels... More often than I'd care to admit. My love is unconditional And, therefore, can be easily used (abused?) The value forgotten or blinded whenever I act human, imperfect, fragile or broken... Inconvenient I am. So are we all. Where does your anger come from? Taken for granted Until you find something YOU miss. Over and over again, this cycle persists... Only according to your terms Only if convenient Only if it serves your sole purpose Only if maintenance-free Only if easy... Perfect... Not too much trouble... UNTIL there is something you need... From me. Yes, boundaries are a necessity. But relationships based on Convenience for oneself Are not relationships, at all.. They are one-way streets Serving one person's agenda Controlling, manipulative, self-serving, emotional toil... And, somehow, always justifiable (in your eyes) Because I am not who you want me to be... I don't fit your "ideal" mold. And you feel that is what you are owed? (I honestly don't know...) Except when you feel alone, afraid, or empty. You don't dare lose what you can use! (abuse?) But dare I say or do something amiss... Your "conditions" will persist. How do I say "stop!" when my role is to love, protect, and forgive? Pain. What to do with all the pain. If I tell, I will be blamed for my pain causing your pain... This, my love, is NOT love. No relationship of substance exists When such rules and expectations persist.
0
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Conditional beyond reasonable.
Conditional beyond reasonable Is how our relationship sometimes feels... More often than I'd care to admit. My love is unconditional And, therefore, can be easily used (abused?) The value forgotten or blinded whenever I act human, imperfect, fragile or broken... Inconvenient I am. So are we all. Where does your anger come from? Taken for granted Until you find something YOU miss. Over and over again, this cycle persists... Only according to your terms Only if convenient Only if it serves your sole purpose Only if maintenance-free Only if easy... Perfect... Not too much trouble... UNTIL there is something you need... From me. Yes, boundaries are a necessity. But relationships based on Convenience for oneself Are not relationships, at all.. They are one-way streets Serving one person's agenda Controlling, manipulative, self-serving, emotional toil... And, somehow, always justifiable (in your eyes) Because I am not who you want me to be... I don't fit your "ideal" mold. And you feel that is what you are owed? (I honestly don't know...) Except when you feel alone, afraid, or empty. You don't dare lose what you can use! (abuse?) But dare I say or do something amiss... Your "conditions" will persist. How do I say "stop!" when my role is to love, protect, and forgive? Pain. What to do with all the pain. If I tell, I will be blamed for my pain causing your pain... This, my love, is NOT love. No relationship of substance exists When such rules and expectations persist.
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39
I was once accused of being the devil under a darkened moon on a foggy night Now, I've met the devil and let me tell you The devil once beat me with a curtain rack over my back until I bled Only to pretend it was in the sport of the game I've met the devil In fact, the devil used to show my mom love from the end of a fist and in the sunrise after a long night of crying Would convince her it was in the name of his love for her I've befriended the devil The Devil once taught me how to pick locks and marks minding their own business And to prey on these people, nay, Opportunities Like my life depended on it I've lived with the devil The devil kept once locked me in a house-shaped-prison before flinging me into the world unprepared, and dazed Only to blame me for not watching the outside close enough from my foggy window I've loved the devil And eagerly, I gutted myself in the devil's name each time she asked me to see my still beating heart Only to be confused as to why she hated the mess that followed my orders I've sacrificed to the devil I've taken my own heart and soul, and impaled them on a blade made of pure jaded spite, only to lay them with all the other hearts I've stolen and pierced Unknowingly, yet undoubtedly maliciously. I've kissed the devil And in that deal I sealed my fate a lifetime of servitude to a soul I helped created And created a bond with the devil that was forbidden for good reason I've lied to the devil Only to have my mistakes return and slash me across the face like the blade that is the sun's beams shedding light on a long night of forgetting problems No matter how justifiable he claimed I was I've seen the devil He watched me from the bottom of an orange tube only to switch his view finder to something he could swim in And once more, even now, As it dances on the end of my blunts I've met the devil And I've met the devil many times throughout my lifetime I've met the devil enough times to identify it by smell, or hearing Despite it coming with a new assortment of blends, a new chirp every time it appears, and a new look complete with me words **** at one point, it was me But I know this Now: I am not (currently), Nor will I be ever again, The Devil.
0
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 1:11 AM UTC
I've Met the Devil
I was once accused of being the devil under a darkened moon on a foggy night Now, I've met the devil and let me tell you The devil once beat me with a curtain rack over my back until I bled Only to pretend it was in the sport of the game I've met the devil In fact, the devil used to show my mom love from the end of a fist and in the sunrise after a long night of crying Would convince her it was in the name of his love for her I've befriended the devil The Devil once taught me how to pick locks and marks minding their own business And to prey on these people, nay, Opportunities Like my life depended on it I've lived with the devil The devil kept once locked me in a house-shaped-prison before flinging me into the world unprepared, and dazed Only to blame me for not watching the outside close enough from my foggy window I've loved the devil And eagerly, I gutted myself in the devil's name each time she asked me to see my still beating heart Only to be confused as to why she hated the mess that followed my orders I've sacrificed to the devil I've taken my own heart and soul, and impaled them on a blade made of pure jaded spite, only to lay them with all the other hearts I've stolen and pierced Unknowingly, yet undoubtedly maliciously. I've kissed the devil And in that deal I sealed my fate a lifetime of servitude to a soul I helped created And created a bond with the devil that was forbidden for good reason I've lied to the devil Only to have my mistakes return and slash me across the face like the blade that is the sun's beams shedding light on a long night of forgetting problems No matter how justifiable he claimed I was I've seen the devil He watched me from the bottom of an orange tube only to switch his view finder to something he could swim in And once more, even now, As it dances on the end of my blunts I've met the devil And I've met the devil many times throughout my lifetime I've met the devil enough times to identify it by smell, or hearing Despite it coming with a new assortment of blends, a new chirp every time it appears, and a new look complete with me words **** at one point, it was me But I know this Now: I am not (currently), Nor will I be ever again, The Devil.
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40
i am grateful for stretch denim on days when           **** it is a fashion statement for lavender laundry detergent because that smell reminds me of the home i've built in my head for tea at 2 a.m. when all the things i've done race in my head because the next morning, i usually get my **** together for colds because they make eating an entire roll of cinnamon buns completely justifiable for the mountains that surround me for NPR and good, rated M fanfiction for def poetry when i can't find the right words for finding a pack of cigarettes when it is only 11:30pm on a thursday night and i am well past drunk in a slightly damp armchair for harry potter and neil gaiman for when twenty dollars fills up my gas tank for my grandma's potato salad and biscuits with honey for feminist zines that make me want to smash the patriarchy for burts bees chapstick and jasmine-green tea for friends who let me cry on their bedroom floors for books that keep me entertained (even if that means me crying in my bathtub while reading them) for courtney love and joan jett because those ******* have ridden in my car with me over many heart-breaks for well-water and sulfate free red wine for johnny cash and new orleans and whiskey for salt-- because that **** can wash away anything for farmer's markets and co-ops for bottles of water  and for cookie dough when my mouth is the consistency of cotton  and my mind is a little bit gone for warm days in January and cold days in September for breakfast and for hikes that begin at five a.m. for summer nights drunk on wine and a little too much fire for friends who call me 'momma bear' and for friends that call me 'baby bird' for poems that give you cold chills and flowers stolen from my neighbor's yard for skin that smells like the sun and sage for beeswax candles and the smell of clean laundry for days when i wake up and realize i could have died on a bathroom floor
0
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
the things i am greatful for
i am grateful for stretch denim on days when           **** it is a fashion statement for lavender laundry detergent because that smell reminds me of the home i've built in my head for tea at 2 a.m. when all the things i've done race in my head because the next morning, i usually get my **** together for colds because they make eating an entire roll of cinnamon buns completely justifiable for the mountains that surround me for NPR and good, rated M fanfiction for def poetry when i can't find the right words for finding a pack of cigarettes when it is only 11:30pm on a thursday night and i am well past drunk in a slightly damp armchair for harry potter and neil gaiman for when twenty dollars fills up my gas tank for my grandma's potato salad and biscuits with honey for feminist zines that make me want to smash the patriarchy for burts bees chapstick and jasmine-green tea for friends who let me cry on their bedroom floors for books that keep me entertained (even if that means me crying in my bathtub while reading them) for courtney love and joan jett because those ******* have ridden in my car with me over many heart-breaks for well-water and sulfate free red wine for johnny cash and new orleans and whiskey for salt-- because that **** can wash away anything for farmer's markets and co-ops for bottles of water  and for cookie dough when my mouth is the consistency of cotton  and my mind is a little bit gone for warm days in January and cold days in September for breakfast and for hikes that begin at five a.m. for summer nights drunk on wine and a little too much fire for friends who call me 'momma bear' and for friends that call me 'baby bird' for poems that give you cold chills and flowers stolen from my neighbor's yard for skin that smells like the sun and sage for beeswax candles and the smell of clean laundry for days when i wake up and realize i could have died on a bathroom floor
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49
I'm the anarchist judging all those hypocrites You're the hypocrite judging all those anarchists There is a thin line between guys like you and I We share a...Similar scene, though Filled with...Sin-ful Misfits. Clean cut suits, or ripped jeans Baby, it doesn't matter to me... No time to flatter, its time for the crime Of justifiable homicide.
0
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Anarchy
media says you obey the new curfew the men in black suits drooped there blues just to hit you oath breakers lament at the days of justice glad that there gone, joyous warrior busts sit in place of the ten in court houses and school pits correctional facilities a mural of magnanimity fasad removed infirmary's making monsters of men once just true to peace that's why I must say don't just police the police put in brief question everything even the words I'm saying if all this **** hits any resistance will be terrorism any act will be justifiable in the name of containment and no injustice no matter how grievous will need anything more to be welcomed as the flag "to stop the Ebola" 50% chance of death to all infected 100% chance to rule the world 1% chance to have a peace of the pie 99% chance to die
0
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Ebola
The quiet nights spent alone Cold as the iciest winter Wandering wondering If things had happened in reverse, Would they be somewhat better? True Affliction Unwise decisions Regretting forgiveness that was once given Faulty thoughts Impaired judgments Logic flawed with justifiable reason Transgressing to levels uncertain A tornado of doubt destroys every light in sight With every dreadful memory that resurfaces Of the darkest times in her life The anxiety clouds her mind Uncertainty glares from behind her eyes Scars of past loves, past exes, past wounds, past lies They cover her face Shown in the bags above her cheeks The darkness behind her pupils And the depression contained in them A midnight black A dark hole only caused by deep sorrow Unfathomable Heartache Overly afraid of the unknown How will she learn to let go? As if instinctively hesitant of others intentions She treads vigilantly amongst Those of even the utmost caliber Stern refusal to release her guard Such little remaining to give She clings sacredly onto the last of her To think, Never again will she slip and fall Blindly into loves tainted cage Never again will she be trapped in loves locks Like an animal untamed Internally shattered in a zoo of impure emotion How will she decipher the wrong from the right person? Passively awaiting The next bearer of alleged variation When history has too often chosen to repeat The differences in being different Eventually turn out to be exactly the same
0
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
The Differences in Being Different
A constant stream of justifiable lies. Contorts what I want from my life. What used to seem impossible is now my reality but I'm not so sure I want it anymore because it is different so different than what I thought it would be Is it worth the games I'm forced to play in order to dream? Today is hard but tomorrow will be worse because I will wake up to hate reflected back at myself There are so many things I should do. There are so many things I should want. Do we not define our own success? Each to their own version of happiness? But all I keep thinking is I shouldn't be eating
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Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
i shouldn't be eating
And some slept, And some dreamt, And some made their way into the world Logical, rational, enforced lives that all added up. And I never realized when the silver bullet missed me, my chance for immortality gone I had thought of some days I am nowadays glad to just see through days. I live in full fiction Where goddesses walk right into your arms and superlative co-incidences mean something. Where physical attraction is justifiable and hormones understand each other across bodies. I have loved you, however immaterial my love maybe to the rest of you and the circumstances I will love you till I find meaning and thousands of barbarians invade across millions of homes, unsuspecting where the disease of one human mind reaches and surpasses all minds . Where I finally get mad and act on it. There are some stories I haven't heard. You can tell me a few of those on my way to the mad-house. I have a shelf full of unread books and with every day of disappointment the shelf keeps piling up. I at-least hope that in my non fictional existence One day, you will read my feelings even though, you won't necessarily act on them.
0
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
Compulsive decadence
There is a word that expresses all the ways in which you have disappointed me and driven me to tears of frustration; I could not enumerate them without displacing my mind in the process, I can only seethe in the chagrin that you have left behind you, a thick gelatinous mess you spread with each movement of your sluggish body and with each breath you take you augment my resentment for you until it boils over into one expression, one word that encompasses this empirically justifiable vexation, uttered with the sarcastic malice that could drive it into your dense English skull; cheers.
0
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
My Most Profound Gratitude
As true as the Trinity And Christ's divinity, And as heavy as gravity, My total depravity Is undeniable. But God created me justifiable,— _Me_, who's more of a Don Knotts Than an Isaac Watts.
0
Jun 9, 2022
Jun 9, 2022 at 11:44 PM UTC
The T in TULIP
Placing my life on a bet I lay on a motel bed With heart pounding And long loud emotional howling That screams at the ****** inside me. All throughout the act I remain ‘inert’ While that pervert! Gags and squirt. Forcibly moaning So as to earn a loaf of bread for a family whose chieftain is dead. This is the reason why I lay on bed. Despite all this they make me culpable Knowing very well with this I am feeding incapable. If this is the law then answer me whether in true sense it is justifiable? My only cry is my body has been taken for far too long Does anybody want to take my heart along?
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
*** worker's cry
I'm sorry, my dear. I try not to miss you, but it's hard. I feel discarded even though that wasn't the case. You ended our partnership by completely justifiable terms, And you are the most wonderful person I could've met, But I can't move on even though you felt I'd be happier doing so, Instead of waiting for you to readjust your life When the truth is I'd be happier waiting. I'm sorry, my dear. I'd like to apologize; you're still on my mind nearly every hour. You're an intruder of my thoughts, but welcome in my arms. You sit in silence in my subconscious, As it yells to you to answer, to assure me that you still love me. And it drives me insane, because I know you still do. What I don't know is if you still want me or not, But I know that I want you way too much. I'm sorry, my dear. I don't know where to go from here. I'm not sure if I should fight for you, or if I should go completely. I'm leaning towards a compromise to be casual with you, But I'm unsure if that would do me more harm than good. I never understood what bitterness and jealousy was Until I loved you, and I found myself finding other men vile Merely for sharing a common passion: you. I'm sorry, my dear. I should leave well enough alone. Perhaps it is better for us to be apart, But I just don't see it yet. But all I can see in the future is you or a void of confusion and emptiness, So you can see why I'm having such a hard time picking the latter. I know I should live in the moment and not the past. But the past was the happiest time of my life. I'm sorry, my dear. I wish I could make you understand.
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
I'm Sorry, My Dear
I'm sorry, my dear. I try not to miss you, but it's hard. I feel discarded even though that wasn't the case. You ended our partnership by completely justifiable terms, And you are the most wonderful person I could've met, But I can't move on even though you felt I'd be happier doing so, Instead of waiting for you to readjust your life When the truth is I'd be happier waiting. I'm sorry, my dear. I'd like to apologize; you're still on my mind nearly every hour. You're an intruder of my thoughts, but welcome in my arms. You sit in silence in my subconscious, As it yells to you to answer, to assure me that you still love me. And it drives me insane, because I know you still do. What I don't know is if you still want me or not, But I know that I want you way too much. I'm sorry, my dear. I don't know where to go from here. I'm not sure if I should fight for you, or if I should go completely. I'm leaning towards a compromise to be casual with you, But I'm unsure if that would do me more harm than good. I never understood what bitterness and jealousy was Until I loved you, and I found myself finding other men vile Merely for sharing a common passion: you. I'm sorry, my dear. I should leave well enough alone. Perhaps it is better for us to be apart, But I just don't see it yet. But all I can see in the future is you or a void of confusion and emptiness, So you can see why I'm having such a hard time picking the latter. I know I should live in the moment and not the past. But the past was the happiest time of my life. I'm sorry, my dear. I wish I could make you understand.
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Invincible beauty, her gaze undeniable She'll pull you in with her wings of steel Unintentionally you stare, but it's justifiable She's everything you never imagined was real Wild shadows play in the light of her eyes Her will indestructible and ready to take flight An eternal battle rages between truth and reason So captured by the light of this shifting prism Angels had caught her gazing into the heavens Now she's ready to overthrow whole kingdoms She's one dark butterfly in a field of fake roses In the wake of her aura that was unfolded A new world arose while a corrupt one closes She'll remind you of the power you left out in the open And to fight for the right to live in the moment
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
One Dark Butterfly
You sit at your screen fingertips flying in the face of decency like a spigot attached to a vat of arsenic dripping your poison, slowly, surely into the ears of the unthinking. You justify the burnt skin, the orphans, the unending torture as deserved. Deserved? How can it be so? Go tell the orphan, scarred and screaming that her fate was deserved. Go stand beside mass graves and thumb your nose at the deserving corpses, stained by the blood of ages. Where is your heart?  does it choke and sputter, buried beneath your all encompassing loathing? You call me stupid, maybe so, my views naive, my compassion wasted yet my heart beats proudly, swells with love  while my tired eyes drown at the unfolding horror. War is not a spectator sport, it is not justifiable, nor deserved. Call me stupid if you will, ridiculous if you must call me any number of names in your attack on my spirit I will not care, I will not bend or bow. Your hatred will be your undoing. Not mine
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
The Islamophobe.
***My fortress of solitude solidifies regret counterbalancing justification with waning self worth It could be worse and I am imperfect so I stay in this place invisible seen only in degrees unworthy But here alone I can pretend I am strong the truth hidden by what I cannot show Words are my friends where my thoughts are my enemies Still, I remain Not bad enough to leave Just horrible enough to keep me hidden in this isolation ashamed to show my face afraid to be free and learn... it's all true***
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May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
Justifiable Regret In Unacceptable Proportions
Day after day Week after week Month after month Year after year You've shown the world How not to be an employer Treating your employees like slaves Demeaning them with insults That were way below the belt Denying them their basic pay For which they have braved storms Scaled towering mountain peaks And dived to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean And firing a few of them For no justifiable reason whatsoever Today, however You have sunk to a new low It is bad enough to not pay your employees But to accuse them of not doing their jobs And lie to their faces' That you've been paying them properly Is despicable to the core And goes on to show That you are nothing more Than a rat in the gutter But then, the rat at least deserves to be put out of its misery You, on the other hand Deserve to rot in the confines of Tihar Jail For a very very long time Of course, we all know the famous saying An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind But it applies only to human beings You are not one
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Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 12:55 PM UTC
Sinking To New Lows
Everything has a purpose, a meaning. Ever little movement has a reason. I know i understand. No matter how painful something gets I try to be the best, i want to be the best The one who never turns their back on you. But today my dignity and freedom were questioned. This is something i can not handle, something i will not ignore. My suffering is justifiable, no blame can be put on anyone or anything. I deserve what i suffer. I just need to figure a way to solve it, get ride of it. Despite everything i still am thankful for what i have even though it may not be enough. Anger and dissatisfaction is not the answer, but i still can't help but close my room door and cry. Burry my head in the darkness of my arms and weep, Sob until it feels as if my flesh is being eaten, My eyes are turning into fire, My lungs are fighting for breath. My heart beats as fast as lighting strikes. A storm that grows inside me. I feel shame, i feel doubt i feel trapped. But i still i do not blame. The day i do i will lose the ability to fight, to even move. Everything is in the open now, everything that i tried to hide because of my pride is revealed. The only good that can come from this is the direction i am getting, the step i have decided to take.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 9:52 PM UTC
The Worst Feeling Ever