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"litters" poems
Broken glass lines the path as if they were shattered dreams themselves  fragments of hopes lost in the whisper of the wind  in the night they lie still I feel like I am dancing on the shards as I walk, knowing I am blessed but it makes me sad too trash litters the ground life is tossed into slums many never get the luxury to escape merely adding to the glittering pieces  they pile up unending  eroding, until the glass is no longer discernible from sand I am talkin' 'bout the ghetto baby and it ain't no easy road
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Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
Ghetto
I am from screens and bright machines that show whole new worlds that I use to pretend I’m not living in this one. I am made of the sharp smell of artificial apples and cinnamon burning your throat as you breathe it in like secondhand smoke. I am made of lonely days spent on my phone pretending to laugh when people say or send something because I know they need the ego boost. I am made of late nights when I shut my phone off and I start to cry because I know that no one thinks about me after I go. I am made of hours spent huddled as my brother spits vitriol at my parents and they take it with willing ears and become submissive dogs with tails between their legs. I am made of hellfire carefully bottled up until someone pushes me to the edge and I am ready to **** I am of thousands of cups of black coffee sobbed over at three am alone in my kitchen hands searing, but refusing to let go. I am from carefully counting every dollar wondering when I am allowed to leave this town. I am from four am walks alone through the town taking in the sights and praying the sun will rise. There’s a shattered hand mirror in my room. Broken glass litters the cold dark marble and teardrops drip all over the shards, because even in all of these things that I am, I am still not good enough for myself.
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Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 10:03 AM UTC
Me
Apart, our Souls, they linger lost. My hearts demise, is what you cost. No sunshine, no colour, only lonely frost. That litters this Soul... aside Ive been tossed. #TwinFlame
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
Particulates of the the Procession
soaring oh **** crashing tumbling speckled glass litters my hair life flashes before me blinking yellow and red roaring screaming blood drips to the ground help Help HELP
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Dec 21, 2021
Dec 21, 2021 at 12:03 PM UTC
Crashing
20 years old lost 1 and a half litters and her mate five years ago in a flood vet says she’s super healthy and she’s a furball of love wisdom and mischief in her catty eyeballs and here i sit thinking about a cat that’s lived more life than i have in my entire life
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
sophie the cat
Roaches litter my ashtray and empty bottles litter my room and burnt out incense litters my nightstand and hollow memories litter my barren landscape of a mind.
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Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Up To A One Thousand Dollar Fine For Littering.
"Not too short on the sides, not too long on the top." I've prepared my little speech, dreading the inevitable small talk as the hairdresser's fingers fly across the jungle of my dome, her scissors like mini machetes cutting down the foliage to see what is hiding in plain sight. I love the Bob Marley shirt I'm wearing, so it's bittersweet it'll immediately be taken off when I get up from the chair. "One love, one heart, give thanks and praise to The Lord," laughing as I type this, autocorrect shows Siri's faith in human invented religion and God. Hair litters the floor, and I know my turn is next. The beginning of the end starts now.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
iPhone Observations While Waiting for a Wal-Mart Haircut
Coffee house windows drape litters of faces like teabags milk white but feature black yolks in sunken pits-- sinking pits, dip under the morning embers. Sunny side where? A day begins though you lot, out to dry, waiver it off; It's not ours, you say, It's yours and you's filling the streets below. We's wait for the sunny, we's wait for the up.
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:10 AM UTC
Coffee House
Ashley,      Your blues inspire me, insipid triangles, walking cold, sweating more and wetting the bed your lips the sizes of gods that I married through hidden video cameras, I caught bias in bliss, racism in slow disasters, tornado sirens and just sirens, and justice on the horizon. My eyelids the sizes of your little ******* the party of tomorrow, the starting sounds of scarred and stripped *** sounds. Caught in a drift, my bottom lip stuffed with lift-lust and jolting up and down your porcelain rift. Messed up and round the back to the buttons, the clasp too heavy to drop your ego down, the cold too swift to catch me as I fell. The heavens too burdened to beat me with your god. I just wanted to me smacked in the face with your flaws. Hips the sizes of doorknobs, hurdles that I caught one weekend sipping slow gin with granddad and papa and Tootsie, your evils carnivorous, your mess much more than your message. Your koo-koo voodoo and big bad red frock. Tuesday's made me the man I am today. The Slayer made me the hate I stuffed into my **** jock-strap to puff out my chest and make prisms in kitten litters and furrow the night clauses to match stick the pumped-up bypass of hazmat and heroism, I was won and didn't know it, you were one and now you're all one. She,      came to me in French class holding straws. I picked swiftly and came, all staled and stiff, lock-jaw and threesomes one moonlit night the fourth of July.
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May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Streams of Golden Consciousness
The little black book I keep next to my journals sits on a bookshelf I made from recycled wood. A fresh coat of paint may hide a splintered past unknown to me, but that is of zero importance when refurbished trees that died for a purpose hold books containing paper collected from a different tree that is now dignified in service. One that expands as more hot air is blown, and shrinks when cold shouldered. The little black book holds numbers without faces, but the pocket in the back holds a face that could never be confused as paint by number. It maps out the girl I've been searching for that never deserved a page in this book of lust, only the pocket in the back that will one day accept my trust. And the reason this little black book is kept on the recycled bookcase is because the paper is also recycled, the same as the trash that litters the pages.
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Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Pocket Perfection
Mopeds, Mercedes Dandelions and daisies Churches Mosques Women masked Exposed eyes Revealing More than the body Ever could. Lingerie Sold openly on the street Olives By the kilogram To fast-talking Fast-walking Men and women Young and old. Ancient ruins, Ruined The fall of one civilization Destroyed Merely to give rise To one that will Only hope to make men Worth remembering. Mystery lies In the lives of artifacts Bare finger tips Graze over frescoes Religion Art Expression Litters every corner Accompanied by waste And poppies Blood red Amidst the gray haze Of cigarette smoke And pollution Clouding the view Of snowcapped mountains Diamond lakes Undisturbed Surrounded by Mopeds, Mercedes Dandelions and Daisies
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Macedonia
The fireside retreats into the wall as another TV Christmas special repeats, with its sound echoing in the hall. Tangerine, Satsuma, Clementine-Orange peel litters the tabletop; orange runway for the action figures, plastic arms, moulded hairs. Nina Simone plays loud, 'Nobody Knows When You're Down And Out', Christmas is over, and now there's nowt to do.
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Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
A NINA SIMONE CHRISTMAS
today i awoke knowing the danger that awaited me as the dust settles the litters came one at a time weapon in hand locked and loaded pointed at a bus the litter hits the ground dazed and confused tears in their eyes i rush over to carry the wounded underneath the rotorblades to safety not knowing til its too late they're already dead the clock is clicking upon highway one weapon in hand pulling sercuity as the buses rush around us today i woke up knowing the danger of going unarmed and unafraid the lifeless eyes staring at me as i lowered them to the floor as the tears stained my cheeks as the anger gathered inside me angry my brothers just died but i can't show any emotion standing at attention as the rotors turn awaiting my brothers in arms as the flag covered brothers inch closer to me my final salute rendered to their memories
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Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 10:38 AM UTC
July 14th 2010
I am the coy smiling handsome man and my feet beat the darkness away when I rush. And I rush, in the alleys, sightless, an actor led by lines of wilting dialogue. And jasmine litters the gutters, fit to be dredged, the aroma and the petals streaked with reminiscence. I rush. I am the man toward an apogee, a scalpel, with tastes as keen as winter lavender, and eyes that feel the weight of tastes behind them. As I dredge the depths for rarer tastes I rush toward the gutter. And like the gutters I thirst, in the levees and fen- In the fen the rush of prey caught Idling fills the space inside my eyes like oil, and I dredge the lake for traces. I am the actor, the dredge, my wit rehearsed and I am acquainted with the lady of the night. I smile as she caresses my oily deluged eyes- And her eyes are filled with bile, accented by jasmine, even in the dimmest light of gutters are rushing to an apogee, fiercer than I'd like them to appear, but I am the scalpel, to incise the insincere- I am the prince, an heir to exacting the coerced- I watch her eyes like windows from the gutter like a vigil and hold tight to her breath. I pour her blood in paper cups until her breath is weightless- And I rush, an actor, in the scene that we portray- I am the giver, the oily deluged eyes that close around the flesh and rend the fruit from the rind.
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Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 12:52 PM UTC
Artificial Intelligence
My internal landscape was once a wetland. Grasses and herbaceous plants sprout from the ventricles of my heart. My rib is a birch tree, a deciduous hard wood crowned with thin leaves. My veins are wild ravines. Inside it is the torrent of rain water that keeps me alive. My heart is a beating water lily, eternally blooming on the lake of my blood. I was a sullen mist, and I loved it that way. But they mistook my solitude for loneliness, the crowd, the clever engineers. So they loaded sands on their trucks, sacks after sacks. They opened me up, covered my wetland, and built a city inside me. They paved roads. They constructed buildings. They opened cafes and pubs and restaurants. They turned on their neon lights. A rave party is inside me at night, and they won't stop until I am filled with cigarette stubs and empty bottles and used issues and half-eaten plates -- litters and grime that I have to clean every morning of my life. My gutter is overflowing and they call this happiness. I call this wreckage. I moved close to the bed, pulled the sheet and laid down. I tried to remember my by-gone world -- my birch trees, my herbaceous plants, my wild ravines, my water lily -- before I was converted into a rattling shell called Happiness. You wrapped your arms around me and press your face on small of my back. My spine was a hard wood once, and every October it shed its golden leaves. "What do you want?" you asked. The neon lights and the avalanche of noise from everywhere drowned my thoughts, and all I can do for my defense is curl my mutiliated body.  "Love me until the end of everything," I whispered. "And understand that this is not a plea." This is a burning desire to have my wetland back.
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Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
Marshland
My internal landscape was once a wetland. Grasses and herbaceous plants sprout from the ventricles of my heart. My rib is a birch tree, a deciduous hard wood crowned with thin leaves. My veins are wild ravines. Inside it is the torrent of rain water that keeps me alive. My heart is a beating water lily, eternally blooming on the lake of my blood. I was a sullen mist, and I loved it that way. But they mistook my solitude for loneliness, the crowd, the clever engineers. So they loaded sands on their trucks, sacks after sacks. They opened me up, covered my wetland, and built a city inside me. They paved roads. They constructed buildings. They opened cafes and pubs and restaurants. They turned on their neon lights. A rave party is inside me at night, and they won't stop until I am filled with cigarette stubs and empty bottles and used issues and half-eaten plates -- litters and grime that I have to clean every morning of my life. My gutter is overflowing and they call this happiness. I call this wreckage. I moved close to the bed, pulled the sheet and laid down. I tried to remember my by-gone world -- my birch trees, my herbaceous plants, my wild ravines, my water lily -- before I was converted into a rattling shell called Happiness. You wrapped your arms around me and press your face on small of my back. My spine was a hard wood once, and every October it shed its golden leaves. "What do you want?" you asked. The neon lights and the avalanche of noise from everywhere drowned my thoughts, and all I can do for my defense is curl my mutiliated body.  "Love me until the end of everything," I whispered. "And understand that this is not a plea." This is a burning desire to have my wetland back.
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9
even if what I do is not okay I am not alone I have my songs to sing when I sit and breathe in some sorrow that passes on an awkward wind I am okay I have my songs to sing and I always remember that I am never alone there is always someone so close not far away - don't get sad about it in the scrawl that litters my floor there is no scrawl there is an eternity of thousands of lives; the common sentience of planets and stars: I look up and I am home I had a friend visit from out of town he was a good guy and what's best: he got home alright; he's still alive
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Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 8:02 PM UTC
a good guy
Around the christmas tree the family gathers. Wrapping paper litters the floor and giggles trickle through the air. Pause. Everyone has wishes for christmas. Marie wishes for her boyfriend to leave her alone so she won't lose her baby. Anne wishes for forgiveness from her husband because she has suspicions about how her lovers left. Marcus wishes he  knew just where his wife's last affair had run off to. Jason wishes for acceptance from his parents for him and his boyfriend. And little Katie wishes she had someone to talk to when she thinks about ending it all.
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Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
Christmas Wishes
Inflicted pains of knowing it will never be the same I'm haunted everyday by the remembrance of your utterances words seep from my skin they twirl over up and around settling where you should have been this constant knocking of pain has worn me down so thin stretched out so far my heart is forming unforgivable scars holding on to this imagined world has turned into heart vs head war I repeatedly ask myself what the hell this is all for I skirmish with the truth, refusing to see, though I know precisely what it is doing to me fatigue unravels my skin it peels off in facets of severed hopes along with the screaming ring of hoarded charcoaled chains of promise words Shredded dignity litters the floors of my heart's chambers Thud, thud it screams, "I failed me!" as I blackout bleed for the price of loving you Surround sound beats of rushing blood in my ears the theme song of banshee screams that leave you sliced open with your twisted insides falling into the black ocean.
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
Fatigue
Fine porcelain litters the cloth, yet a quick pull leaves it still. An exchange of tails both holding, careful to not spill. Our plates remain intact, despite accidents of gravity. Clearing the surface momentarily within arrangements of integrity. Utensils quickly turning our tensile accent; I uttered Vowels to what was heard repeatedly signed our yearning.
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Routes of Trade
Had my foot resting on the pig pen, watching my sows bringing new litters in, wondering if these would help ends meet. The crops all dried in that Texas heat, we had to find work in the city so we could eat. That was 35 summers ago. Stood in line with all my gear on, about two hours before dawn, worried if I was going to qualify. They dropped us, rolled us and pretty much as they pleased, got rid of a lot of boys except me, told me to get back in line. That was 35 summers ago. Thirty five summers of doing it all, sometimes knocked on my *** and **** near crawl, made a life out of what I have. Seen things I did'nt want to see, did things that would normally not be me, made it through most of the tough times. That was 35 summers ago. Hope I got 35 more summers to go.
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Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
That Was 35 Summers Ago.
Eyes that stare at me with such depth that I shudder when I look directly Hair which curls around my finger and bounces simply perfectly Giving me a preview of a sunrise that hasn't yet been seen Gazing at darling Jenny and knowing only she does this to me Watching the heavens with such wonder as she litters them with stars Hoping that she sees me from palaces in clouds from afar Yet holding her with such unwavering dedication and never letting go Seeing my dear Jenny and feeling her love's glow Hearing every whisper, every hark, and every secret breath Binding a love that I know will not be abolished by this thing called death Shining in a world where humdrum people flock in by the many Loving her for all she's worth, wanting my dear Jenny Jenny's hands are the only ones which soften my rugged fingers Before and after she leaves the room I find her scent does linger Her silouette is one I look for each time I enter the door Hearing her soft footstepstouch the cool, wooden floor I will keep my dearest Jenny for as long as long can last Seeing the timeline in her eyes of both our future and our past Knowing that we will be in a love with no questioning or regret And lying with her as her eyes close in and under her eyelids are sunsets
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Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Jenny is My Day