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"landslide" poems
I'm watching my every single step I'm careful not to stumble and fall One stone on the road could lead to a landslide And one broken bone could ruin it all I'm watching my every single move I'm careful not to scare you away The faintest blow could lead to a hurricane And one wrong word could be the last thing I say.
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Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 1:07 PM UTC
Careful
I love my country: India , but I hate many of its rulers, as they speak for the poor and act for tycoons bellicose, and- Diversity sighs in armed Unity; The selfish corrupted in unity March ahead on graves crafty. I love my country: India , but August fifteenth : with freedom, opened all devilish forces out of Hell to fell all virtues. Grim faced Buddha smiles Like a nuclear Phantom ,his tears drip on tomb of Peace. No white dove sits on dome It bleeds in the lap of Buddha. If birth is the cause of gloom. who stops one from bloom? Dearth of berth clamour for Death of birth at the womb. I love my country: India , but Souls are free on lovely Earth Lay bodies strain to survive. A nominal word equanimity Gushes in landslide infirmity. Service becomes self –service, In black ink sleeps Socialism. Fear Neurosis like King Kamsa Keeps Liberty behind the bars. Healthy, wealthy Bharat Matha Groans in labour room for Santi. Note: 1). August fifteenth= 15 August 1947 when India became free from Briton. 2).Buddha=Gutham Buddha(Prince Sidhardha) who established Buddhism.3).Kamsa= The mythological character , uncle of Lord Krishna who chained even his sister Devaki out of the fear psychosis. 4),Bharat Matha= Indians consider Bharat/India as their Mother(Matha)-so it is Mother land not Fatherland for them .Santi/Shanti=a Sanskrit word used in Vedas and Upanishads of India which means Peace or Islam.
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Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
I love my country: India, but
I'm a big city girl but sometimes it feels like my life is in a hole with everything caving in and the landslide suffocating.
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Trapped
what is this mind that was given to me that is able to see things i print on screen with my digital zip drive of a brain that is stuck inside a laptop main frame, ******* server uploading and crashing sending pings and things to hackers who perform doss attacks and web cracks and serial cracks while eating cereal going over javascript material program landslide juno got bit by emails and other technical software jargin computer guy got the blue screen of death corruption on the web the spider metacrawling and setting it on angelfire i google the facebook twitter and hot wire my car on the trader the wall street journal and the white house, **** sites and white owls, getting arrested and being hired by the government, the money's spent, criminal punishment, in cells locked up no breakfast but lunch under the crack of a door inside ur naked *** on irc chat, the warez rat, pirates on bays and whispers from kittens, brown paper packages exploding a smidgeon, binary, metamorphosis, code program gold, warning anti virus and spywares, baghdad to china, spy on private, eyes on cameras, cell phones like trackers, global position mappers, predator drones, video games, nfl madden, mad men, and happy wal marts, hacking wal mart, with social engineers, traveling the silk road with a cloak ip address revoked
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
The Silk Engineer
I must be made out of stone, A stone is a good thing to be, I have weathered wounds , Changed a bit on the outside, The core remains the same . A stone is a good thing to be , Nothing changes inside, A landslide or an avalanche, It’s just an adventurous ride, An experience that shaped me. Nothing changes inside, Time has layered me solid, A little unraveling by nature, Is time again working on me, Showing the grit that makes me. Time has layered me solid, Bruises sharpened my edges, Water smothered me smooth, I could lay alone for ages, Or I could flow and dissolve .
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Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
A stone is a good thing to be
The Syrian process is a serial problem When the disenfranchised Cause a landslide Of historical hatred The key that ignites Business and commerce Wildfire hearts And boiling skin The harsh outbreak of deadly cholera The blockade of the forceful armada The coalition forces Run wild like horses The bombs keep falling The people cry The engine keeps stalling The car dies The white phosphorus Brought by the white prosperous Can burn to the bone And wounds can ignite up to three days later But the people of Raqqa Are used to reigniting scars They're used to searing flesh That melts like tar Where this will go No one knows how far Machines must be sustained Hearts will be untamed Lives constantly rearranged A human rights activist attempts to send a report What he's witnessed in Raqqa Injustices; perceived and objective But Hellfire Turns the Internet cafe Into a senseless violence display The dirt, blood, and bodies Mixed and spread like the art That was ignored to lead to this quagmire Whether this calamity started At the Melian dialogue Or a market diagram Or a martyr's diatribe What we need now is an m.d. to suture the wounds But who will save us? When noble protectors are blown up And the reigniting scars scorch the hands that heal
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Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
Ignition
Empty days, lonely nights How i long to hold you in this painful life. I'm the product of misery. No, i'm not asking for you to save me I guess i just miss your company. Forever lonely. Why  doesn't this place seem like home to me? I'm uselessly drifting through this beautiful nightmare. Maybe i'm just scared.. Of what? Maybe myself. Oh god this hurts like hell. This mental state makes me want to yell. Trying my hardest to stay strong, Yet everything i do and say is wrong. Constantly slipping into isolation, I just want to change my situation. Finding myself lost in my mind, doing nothing but wasting precious time. Always dreaming of a better life, doing my best to avoid the knife. If only i was better at standing alone. Maybe then i could figure out my life and find my way home. Too pre-occupied fantasizing about finding another, to love, to trust and have a good time with one another. I carry with me a damaged heart. I'm trying not to fall apart. So focused on trying to be a better me, Still nothing is working can't you see? I ache to find someone, to have a better connection. to travel the planet with a better sense of direction. Feeling haunted by the demons in my mind and the ghosts of my past. Still chasing a happiness that i hope will last. I'm still trying to rid myself of the darkness that follows me. Only to find that i'm fading away, almost completely.
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
My Landslide
We've been running with blistered feet and weak knees for centuries. Yes, we've come so far but no one ever said it would be this hard. Just lay your head to rest you have run enough. I've got your hand and I'm holding it tight. You're all I have in this world so I won't ever let go. Don't you cry no more because you gave your all. It's just this time god wasn't so kind. You put up a good fight and I'm so proud of you. You'll finally be at peace when these dark days are behind you. You slayed your demons and monsters. You did your job and you did it well. Don't worry too much, brother, because I won't be able to live in this world too long without you. I'll follow you down the path and into the dark. I won't let you die alone. On the other side we'll just drive down the endless road back home, or god knows where. We would always dream of tomorrow but this time tomorrow never came. We gave our live's to protect others. We've come so far up the mountain just this time got caught in the landslide and fell all the way back down. But look how far we got. Look how much we've done. Look at how many lives we've saved. We're just two brothers born from the fire but this is where our lives end. I look back and see all decay, but I won't apologize I did my job. We saved lives and protected the land. We always stood tall no matter how hard we'd fall. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of us.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
I'm Proud Of Us
I took my love and I took it down Climbed a mountain and I turned around And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills Till the landslide brought me down Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? And can I sail through the changing ocean tides Can I handle the seasons of my life? Oh oh I don't know, oh I don't know Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Children get older I'm getting older too Yes I'm getting older too, so I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I, I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Children get older I'm getting older too oh yes I'm getting older too So, take this love, take it down Oh if you climb a mountain and you turn around If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills Well the landslide will bring you down, down And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills Well maybe the landslide will bring you down Well well, the landslide will bring you down - STEVIE NICKS
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Landslide
I'm not sure how old he is, my step-step-granddad, but that's the advice he gives that fixes itself on my psyche. Focus. The act is the goal. It's the thought of having been and becoming whole. Focus. Each event is like a pebble in a landslide. I take it in stride. Focus. I am everywhere and there is no center, no home base, no dock on this river. I'm caught in current. Stay calm. This is perfect. Each twist in the flow, every rock of the boat, every splash in the face, my being gives chase to  possibilities in consistent inconsistencies, sacred, eternal, geometries. Do our bodies disperse like the leaves that traverse from limb to ground, spiraling down? Focus. Where are your shoes? We're running late, and there's no time for another drink. We're out of milk? Look at my sink. It's piled high and I can't think with you  making all that ********* noise. What time is it? I forgot to call... that bill is due tacked on the wall. I wonder if we'll talk again. There's spam where your email should have been. All this time I thought that we were friends. I can't sleep. I'm up too late and I can't sate this need to see what I can make of missed phone calls and mystery texts. That write up? No, I haven't seen that yet. But don't forget, I told you, "I can handle it." Remember? Double. Oh. Seven. Wait. Focus. Breathe in. I'm calm. That's resurrection. Breathe out. I'm smiling. That's reconnection.
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Focus
When the incendiaries lit the sky A face smiled its divine calligraphy: It was Helen crowned with Troy's debris. Her unmatchable mouth in the roof Of blood moved in speech like the home of love, Hanging its moon of reproof: 'My kiss blots history out. My landslide legend has forgotten A thousand thousand bones rotting; 'Under the guilty sea The ships lie; but accuracy Has been seduced by me.' Her smile sailed indiscriminately Among the squadrons of death majestically And was reflected on the sea. 'The armless Venus carried Pompei's tears Better than the raided years Or the cold dances of chameleon stars.' Then faded. But the rain Like lovers' seeds that fall in vain, Warned me of my sin.
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3.6k
Love In Wartime
It took my love, It took me down Called my inside to be found And I saw my reflection in the mirror of your face Till the landslide brought me down Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I write what's changing the ocean inside? Can I hold the reasons for my life? Mmm, mmm, mmm Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes it bolder Even music gets older and I'm getting older too Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes it bolder Even music gets older and I'm getting older too Oh, I'm getting older too Awh, take my love, take me down Awh, you called my inside to be found And if you see my reflection in the mirror of your face Well, the landslide brang it down And if you see my reflection in the mirror of your face Well, the landslide brang it down Oh, the landslide brang me down
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Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 10:01 PM UTC
Landslide by Fleetwood Mac (Edited Lyrics)
There's a line drawn in the sand It's a line drawn by the man It's a line drawn by the hand That feeds Our breed Misery There are lines drawn on our faces As sand hits the ground These fault lines are from the races Our lives have found The lines get deeper Like cuts on our skin The lines get steeper Like our chance to win We're thrown into a landslide We see the ground collapsing For all the silly things we lie And the things we say in passing The momentum of this earthquake Will never cease, only take And these tectonic plates shift When we live a hectic hate rift I need safety To embrace me And save me from my world imploding Before anyone can say they know me But the planet is shaking My mangled mind aching I trap myself inside a steel vault Never forgetting this is my fault
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
Fault
Boulders crushing In a landside Unable to lift Betrayal hit me My love crushed me You crushed me In a landslide Stealing my breath away “I’ll never hurt you” “You’re too good for me” “When you hurt I hurt” In a landslide In a landslide You never came And I faded away Along with my trust in you.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
Landslide
!TRIGGER WARNING! (Mentions of suicide) The wind caresses my skin. One feeling to lead me in. The tide So wide, I am feeling a rush. Combined with hushed Whispers of a spirit once crushed. Though she thrived In a landslide, In the sea she is pushed. To the deep waters, She is finally shushed.
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Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 1:10 PM UTC
Ocean Blues
~ Creatively I died inside a butterfly’s wing Buried in the womb of a bird’s song Sing… Elevation Planted deep in a spiders imagination Twisted, converted Underneath a pyramid Midriff monsoon Against the red noon of the Moon’s Lunar tunes Nightmares growing from daydreams Like weeds Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams Broken seeds The eyes of the Owl see As wisdom he reads Turn green with greed No longer wise as pride Glides and rides Across the deceit of his landslide Crashing like a crystal avalanche Crushing lives and habitats See one choice can lead back to the beginning Of the first inning of a sliver lining That has become dull Losing its shine and luster Like a haunted hall In a old mansion cobwebbed with fluster Skeletons and ghost threaded in walls Shredded inside papery calls Peeling from the owners fall I’ve died inside the butterfly’s wing The wing carved on a wedding ring Its circle symbolizes my cycle A tilted infinity inside the curve of clarity Of my fall That became a papery call While threaded in a skeleton wall Cobwebbed with fluster Like a haunted hall That has lost its shine and luster Which became dull Like the first inning of the silver lining This choice has led back to the beginning Crushing lives and habitats Like a crystal avalanche Crashing across the deceit of this landslide Which glides and rides No longer wise as pride Turns green with greed As wisdom he reads The eyes of the Owl see Broken seeds Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams Like nightmare and weeds Growing from daydreams Lunar tunes of the Moon Glowing against red noon midriff monsoon Underneath a pyramid Twisted, converted Planted deep in a spiders imagination Elevation Buried in the womb of a bird’s song Sing… For I’ve creatively died inside the ink of a butterfly’s wing Dripping from an alien’s pen-well Melting like clear gel Faded and blurred Secretly grew in between each verb Hid myself in sentences Like parables in genesis With glee… I impregnated the meaning inside me Then birthed surrealism In a chaotic schism Between the fifth and second chord Of a poetic discord ~
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 2:40 AM UTC
The Birth of Surrealism
~ Creatively I died inside a butterfly’s wing Buried in the womb of a bird’s song Sing… Elevation Planted deep in a spiders imagination Twisted, converted Underneath a pyramid Midriff monsoon Against the red noon of the Moon’s Lunar tunes Nightmares growing from daydreams Like weeds Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams Broken seeds The eyes of the Owl see As wisdom he reads Turn green with greed No longer wise as pride Glides and rides Across the deceit of his landslide Crashing like a crystal avalanche Crushing lives and habitats See one choice can lead back to the beginning Of the first inning of a sliver lining That has become dull Losing its shine and luster Like a haunted hall In a old mansion cobwebbed with fluster Skeletons and ghost threaded in walls Shredded inside papery calls Peeling from the owners fall I’ve died inside the butterfly’s wing The wing carved on a wedding ring Its circle symbolizes my cycle A tilted infinity inside the curve of clarity Of my fall That became a papery call While threaded in a skeleton wall Cobwebbed with fluster Like a haunted hall That has lost its shine and luster Which became dull Like the first inning of the silver lining This choice has led back to the beginning Crushing lives and habitats Like a crystal avalanche Crashing across the deceit of this landslide Which glides and rides No longer wise as pride Turns green with greed As wisdom he reads The eyes of the Owl see Broken seeds Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams Like nightmare and weeds Growing from daydreams Lunar tunes of the Moon Glowing against red noon midriff monsoon Underneath a pyramid Twisted, converted Planted deep in a spiders imagination Elevation Buried in the womb of a bird’s song Sing… For I’ve creatively died inside the ink of a butterfly’s wing Dripping from an alien’s pen-well Melting like clear gel Faded and blurred Secretly grew in between each verb Hid myself in sentences Like parables in genesis With glee… I impregnated the meaning inside me Then birthed surrealism In a chaotic schism Between the fifth and second chord Of a poetic discord ~
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79
My mind can't comprehend the emotions inside, a war fought each night I lose by a landslide. The sheets of comfort have become an anxiety-ridden hell, my mind unbearably racing like Van Gogh preparing a pastel. Remedies have been given but I lay restless, indescribable assurance it's helpless, as I become anxious and continuously stress this. Not the battles but the war I must calmly defeat, as I finally become even on my sleep's balances.
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Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
War in the Night
or EGGSISTENTIALISM I put eggs in a *** with some water to cook turned the heat up to hot then the egg-timer took and I gave it a spin so the sand was on top and an aperture, thin, let the grains start to drop like a little landslide that just in a short while had begun spreading wide from a conical pile then I saw myself there in the egg timer's glass and returned my own glare just to fill the impasse but my face looked obscure seeming bulbous and stout with my chin on the floor and my brow at the spout as the sand tumbled south to the hour-glass base down my nose to my mouth just like tears on my face then I had this strange thought as I took an egg cup of how time can run short while it's filling right up now a thousand yard stare in those eyes, I could see existential despair facing infinity they left no room to doubt that we'd both been misled that time doesn't run out - it falls right on your head 'til you're buried alive with a mouthful of grit you might think you'll survive but it's not prone to quit then your eggs are all done time's caught up and been spent by the end of the run your not sure where it went but time waits for no man that much can't be denied so boiled eggs? change of plan - in the end had them fried.
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Dec 3, 2022
Dec 3, 2022 at 5:02 AM UTC
BOILED EGGS & EXISTENTIALISM
May be you see my life Across miles and years The gentle rolling hills and valleys Verdant earth that ebbs And flows Summer grass cool beneath Wearied feet Lazy sunsets slip soft and smoky Rest for another day Quiet against my breast Breath measured I treasure you Sheltered in my embrace Is this your love Blinded to the rifts The ragged cliffs Barren and ravaged Weathered scars Torrential rains and landslide chaos Define me Canyons so deep Light never descends Do you find beauty In my weathered soul The rush of ascent As you fly from this valley Pinnacle bound and breathless Love is rarified air I am your oasis In the shifting sands Drifting dunes and valleys I shimmer in your love Your mirage A vision of shelter Beautiful Forever.... TL Boehm 051308
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Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
Valleys
it’s interesting to think about all the right people who might’ve come into your life at the wrong time. but then again, i often wonder if time could’ve saved or wrecked us at all. maybe from the start, we were destined to be nothing more than strangers. even if i had been weighed down, glued to one spot, nomadic tensions silenced, it seems likely that, still, our friendly smiles and cordial jokes would’ve been limited, somehow, by unseen barriers, by the cruel overseer that is fate. i think i meant something to you, once. not a lot, but something. and now, now i’m just there. a solid. something that takes up space. you still sit close to me, but not as close as you did when we first met. and i wonder, sometimes, if i did something wrong, if there was something i could’ve done, or not done, to change things, to make things better, to stop us from drifting silently onto the end of the growing list of tragedies my life’s friendships have been. but maybe there was nothing i could do. that thought, while terrifying, is perhaps the most comforting one. after all, it is better to be left helpless from the start than to be burdened with the knowledge that the stones you threw became part of the landslide. i hope, maybe, that we can salvage what’s left, perhaps even grow it into something better. but somewhere inside, i know that’s fool’s talk. i doubt i ever meant much to you, anyway. i always was, and always will be, just another shadow, another stranger, another change of season. i suppose i was your winter — a barrage of snow and ice that danced in clumsily, not bothering to think about what would happen once spring came. i hope you’ll remember me when i’m gone. even now, it’s nice to think that i cross your mind as much as you cross mine. but my hopes seldom match my reality. so, still, i am just another. watching. waiting. being. i am nothing, and in being nothing i suppose that i, too, am everything. but i will never be your everything. and i could say that i regret that, but perhaps i’m still holding onto that last bit of hope. always the optimist, and yet even more so the pessimist. i thought you might be both, too. i thought we might find a way to complete one another, much like how the land completes the sea. but i suppose i am left the earth without its ocean, the ground without its rain. it’s a horrible thing, detachment. my roots never quite find what they’re looking for in the soil. i had just hoped you would be different. (a.m.)
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
seasons
it’s interesting to think about all the right people who might’ve come into your life at the wrong time. but then again, i often wonder if time could’ve saved or wrecked us at all. maybe from the start, we were destined to be nothing more than strangers. even if i had been weighed down, glued to one spot, nomadic tensions silenced, it seems likely that, still, our friendly smiles and cordial jokes would’ve been limited, somehow, by unseen barriers, by the cruel overseer that is fate. i think i meant something to you, once. not a lot, but something. and now, now i’m just there. a solid. something that takes up space. you still sit close to me, but not as close as you did when we first met. and i wonder, sometimes, if i did something wrong, if there was something i could’ve done, or not done, to change things, to make things better, to stop us from drifting silently onto the end of the growing list of tragedies my life’s friendships have been. but maybe there was nothing i could do. that thought, while terrifying, is perhaps the most comforting one. after all, it is better to be left helpless from the start than to be burdened with the knowledge that the stones you threw became part of the landslide. i hope, maybe, that we can salvage what’s left, perhaps even grow it into something better. but somewhere inside, i know that’s fool’s talk. i doubt i ever meant much to you, anyway. i always was, and always will be, just another shadow, another stranger, another change of season. i suppose i was your winter — a barrage of snow and ice that danced in clumsily, not bothering to think about what would happen once spring came. i hope you’ll remember me when i’m gone. even now, it’s nice to think that i cross your mind as much as you cross mine. but my hopes seldom match my reality. so, still, i am just another. watching. waiting. being. i am nothing, and in being nothing i suppose that i, too, am everything. but i will never be your everything. and i could say that i regret that, but perhaps i’m still holding onto that last bit of hope. always the optimist, and yet even more so the pessimist. i thought you might be both, too. i thought we might find a way to complete one another, much like how the land completes the sea. but i suppose i am left the earth without its ocean, the ground without its rain. it’s a horrible thing, detachment. my roots never quite find what they’re looking for in the soil. i had just hoped you would be different. (a.m.)
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56
In the midst of old ravines and paintings, a succulent soldier dreams. As dawn starts to paint, as the secondhand piano plays, his azure iris will gaze to the sun- the faraway maiden. In hope that one day, he'd sunbathe and chase dreams with spring nymphs in holy fields of bonnets and poppies. Into the poetic imaginations he submerged, eating dainty buns,saccharine berries and milk by a spiral pond; and pirouette like butterflies on feathery grass with florets and mist. Far across the sullen lakes, He'd run with the spring squirrels and foxes; through the honeyed prairie, the crooned secrets echo faintly like a damsel's song. In between His spellbinding tales, plants they giggle in harmonious blithe— that even the gale who gush by in haste, would stop and peer with serene awe. Abundance of miraculous faith He ignited to his vein, for the black dots of his crest and spine to someday evanesce. And in ease, realms of woodlands and lone moors abound upon his eyelids, that mother nature awaits him. tick tock, two steps away from the holy born of Christ, He died of collapsed dream, like muddy landslide of wet monsoon. His soul— a soul of a fey,beatific and mesmeric dreamer, perish away in stardust. a shriveled lilac body, graven into a treasure box, a seraphic smile carved. With waterfalls and chrysanthemums, moonbeam and fog, an elegy, and a handful of brimmed ash—the box sealed like a secret letter. that dusted night ashes charily scattered to the wide empyrean along with a brush of vain agony. Rest in peace, Floyd the cactus.
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Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
Spirit Soldier
In the midst of old ravines and paintings, a succulent soldier dreams. As dawn starts to paint, as the secondhand piano plays, his azure iris will gaze to the sun- the faraway maiden. In hope that one day, he'd sunbathe and chase dreams with spring nymphs in holy fields of bonnets and poppies. Into the poetic imaginations he submerged, eating dainty buns,saccharine berries and milk by a spiral pond; and pirouette like butterflies on feathery grass with florets and mist. Far across the sullen lakes, He'd run with the spring squirrels and foxes; through the honeyed prairie, the crooned secrets echo faintly like a damsel's song. In between His spellbinding tales, plants they giggle in harmonious blithe— that even the gale who gush by in haste, would stop and peer with serene awe. Abundance of miraculous faith He ignited to his vein, for the black dots of his crest and spine to someday evanesce. And in ease, realms of woodlands and lone moors abound upon his eyelids, that mother nature awaits him. tick tock, two steps away from the holy born of Christ, He died of collapsed dream, like muddy landslide of wet monsoon. His soul— a soul of a fey,beatific and mesmeric dreamer, perish away in stardust. a shriveled lilac body, graven into a treasure box, a seraphic smile carved. With waterfalls and chrysanthemums, moonbeam and fog, an elegy, and a handful of brimmed ash—the box sealed like a secret letter. that dusted night ashes charily scattered to the wide empyrean along with a brush of vain agony. Rest in peace, Floyd the cactus.
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28
I'm a stormy landslide And you're an earthquake A disheveling tide Tide that caresses me While I subside Subside to heathens The heathens whose embers forever collide Collide in the arms of your feigned stride. . . . Mehek
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Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 2:15 AM UTC
.US.
I have gained a paternal responsibility But I feel a different response filling me Constantly itching from a million flees Begging to get me out of this please So in my mind unseen Resides a murderous dream To subtract from my team I fall into a landslide Of infanticide A lioness eats her cubs As a baby drowns in a tub Before they reach the age They acquire our rage We devour our babies Before they contract rabies We're brought together by proximity and origin By who we were forming in This connection of chance Determines circumstance Guiding our circle dance With random music We take whatever we can Until we lose it A possum's mother dies It has no time to cry It must continue to eat So it feeds Like its mother in heat Had to breed In order to not lose The child chews In a world of me or you The child chews Instead of feeling blue The child chews Its mother's fur stuck in its teeth It stays there to provide heat The parent provisions from beyond the grave Will get the possum through this ugly day From possum to person I can't tell which is the worse end For there is flesh stuck between my teeth Like a Christmas wreath Where what lies beneath In a readily equipped sheath Is patricide or matricide I can't decide But must abide To survive The purgatory I see surging toward me So to move forwardly I must live forlornly After feeding on family Company becomes fantasy Learning no one can handle me They're just meals I'll eat handily I eat my relatives In this hell I live Where what I give Is the gnashing of my jaw To follow a universal law That says scratch and claw Until I meet God Expecting my parricide ways Will garner divine praise But for everybody I slayed My soul was filleted Now I only see grey So everyone looks like my father And I say welcome back Kotter As I yearn for my teeth to be hotter
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May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 12:14 PM UTC
Parricide
I have gained a paternal responsibility But I feel a different response filling me Constantly itching from a million flees Begging to get me out of this please So in my mind unseen Resides a murderous dream To subtract from my team I fall into a landslide Of infanticide A lioness eats her cubs As a baby drowns in a tub Before they reach the age They acquire our rage We devour our babies Before they contract rabies We're brought together by proximity and origin By who we were forming in This connection of chance Determines circumstance Guiding our circle dance With random music We take whatever we can Until we lose it A possum's mother dies It has no time to cry It must continue to eat So it feeds Like its mother in heat Had to breed In order to not lose The child chews In a world of me or you The child chews Instead of feeling blue The child chews Its mother's fur stuck in its teeth It stays there to provide heat The parent provisions from beyond the grave Will get the possum through this ugly day From possum to person I can't tell which is the worse end For there is flesh stuck between my teeth Like a Christmas wreath Where what lies beneath In a readily equipped sheath Is patricide or matricide I can't decide But must abide To survive The purgatory I see surging toward me So to move forwardly I must live forlornly After feeding on family Company becomes fantasy Learning no one can handle me They're just meals I'll eat handily I eat my relatives In this hell I live Where what I give Is the gnashing of my jaw To follow a universal law That says scratch and claw Until I meet God Expecting my parricide ways Will garner divine praise But for everybody I slayed My soul was filleted Now I only see grey So everyone looks like my father And I say welcome back Kotter As I yearn for my teeth to be hotter
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