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"malice" poems
Our nation is a father Who spends sons unwisely Wasting their wonder On warrior blunders In nations swelling pride We see our children Committing suicide Honor bound to pursue Patriotic truths If mothers ran the world Would it all be better Or would maternal malice Malform modern intent Blue eyes telling lies Of war and all its’ glories Grey hair sitting there In old reclining lawn chairs Celebrating fantastic stories But I know the lives lost Were not always spent wisely Were not always sacrificed justly Why does it feel like no one else sees Have I become Don Quixote Fatherland motherland Better planned Would be brotherhood And sisterhood All that love spent for the good Like this poem We have lost our way Perhaps better stanza Will return the wisdom Of our better sages
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Nation
It seemed the space between us became torn and Profoundly distanced.................... Jamming bony knuckles and spread eagled fingers, Lying their mapped out journey.....direction on point patrol.... Adorned by silver decoration, delighting in their skinned habitat Shafted, deceit punching the recipient of the poison digits Prodding and pushing their intent....dare you contradict The intended carved out dose of punishment, Risk and Safety......not yours and never would be; stooped Down under the assailing bony palmed attachements That delivered penetrating power, cupped around Your arm til it became discoloured, pressure points Backed you into a corner, up against the grain of the Brick wall, cold and damp, the odour reaching And scolding your nostrils with its stale internal vows Refuse, stretching and protruding its foul remnents An earlier life, when you were not under threat fades Your very existance in jeopardy, your eyes pleaded for Normality, willing someone to hear your silence, grip you Tightly, not with malice, but with bravery and valour Right now you need that shining knight, that white Horse galloping down the blind alleyway, yet you Know that won't happen for you're already sinking To the floor, the blow comes sharp and stings, warmth Exudes and trickles a path downwards, leaving your Body, finding the cold concrete beneath you, travelling Outwards................
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Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
Wrong place.....wrong time
For Max O cruel, drunken soul, darling tigress, Come to my heart, you lethargic beast! I long for my trembling hands to caress Your thick and glossy fleece. In your petticoats filled with your scent To bury my poor, aching head, Inhaling your flowery fragrance; The sweetness of love now dead. I wish to sleep, to dream perchance As sweetly as death’s embrace, Without remorse, my tongue will dance On your coppery body and face. To bury my sobbing for hours Nothing equals your bed’s abyss, On your lips lies oblivion’s power And Lethe flows in your kiss. Like one resigned to meet his end, I’ll face my fate delighted; Docile martyr, innocent condemned, Whose fervour with pain is ignited. I shall **** to drown my malice,   With nepenthe and hemlock blessed; Placing my lips upon the chalice Of your pointed, heartless breast.
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Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
Translation: Lethe (Baudelaire)
Cold, blue, wet, fragile, brittle, hard, steam solidified, water hardened, anger, fear, white, tensile, steam solidified, water hardened; you lie in her wintered veins. why? "If she's awake, I'll **** you." staccato words spoken like a knife blade thrown... ...with malice and intent. Her father's voice from the bedroom next door no sound of her mother. The female child cowered under her candy-striped sheets their usual soft comfort unnoticed footsteps door handle moving light seeping into her sanctuary her heart thudded trying to escape her chest as she held her breath. "Please, please don't hear me." a silent plea as fear snatched her in its icy grip. She could smell him smell the cigarettes smell his power. She waited. He backed out returned to her mother between her heartbeats she heard the slap "You are lucky this time, ***** She sleeps." Heavy footsteps down the stairs punctuated by her mother's tears.                             ~~~~~~~~~~~ The girl child had only ever blamed her mother decades of anger and bitterness the memory of this night buried deep. Crazed hard ice beneath the tundra of her life. In the third decade of the girl child's life her mother died alone never forgiven for what she hadn't done nor for what she had. The ice remained in the girl child's veins If anything, thicker...harder. Then in her fifth decade this ice became water as with the passage of life the tundra thawed and rising with it to the surface the truth. Then what? The girl child worked hard at staying warm at keeping the ice at bay. Not easy. Nothing was ever said to her father. In her sixth decade the girl child's father died embraced in his daughter's arms forgiven for what he had done and for what he hadn't. The woman had finally thawed she was properly warm her own love finally able to flow
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
ice
Cold, blue, wet, fragile, brittle, hard, steam solidified, water hardened, anger, fear, white, tensile, steam solidified, water hardened; you lie in her wintered veins. why? "If she's awake, I'll **** you." staccato words spoken like a knife blade thrown... ...with malice and intent. Her father's voice from the bedroom next door no sound of her mother. The female child cowered under her candy-striped sheets their usual soft comfort unnoticed footsteps door handle moving light seeping into her sanctuary her heart thudded trying to escape her chest as she held her breath. "Please, please don't hear me." a silent plea as fear snatched her in its icy grip. She could smell him smell the cigarettes smell his power. She waited. He backed out returned to her mother between her heartbeats she heard the slap "You are lucky this time, ***** She sleeps." Heavy footsteps down the stairs punctuated by her mother's tears.                             ~~~~~~~~~~~ The girl child had only ever blamed her mother decades of anger and bitterness the memory of this night buried deep. Crazed hard ice beneath the tundra of her life. In the third decade of the girl child's life her mother died alone never forgiven for what she hadn't done nor for what she had. The ice remained in the girl child's veins If anything, thicker...harder. Then in her fifth decade this ice became water as with the passage of life the tundra thawed and rising with it to the surface the truth. Then what? The girl child worked hard at staying warm at keeping the ice at bay. Not easy. Nothing was ever said to her father. In her sixth decade the girl child's father died embraced in his daughter's arms forgiven for what he had done and for what he hadn't. The woman had finally thawed she was properly warm her own love finally able to flow
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66
My mind a endless tempest of confusion Will it ever cease; Will i find true peace Of mind, mind this head of mine; Another day goes on full of confusion. Malice, hate towards myself; About things i cant change That easily; Contemplation of ending it all; Or should I go on, keeping strong.
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
Tempest of confusion
Fabricated. Fictitious. A fake floating feeling Falls short Of my fleeting fantasy. This insidious infirmity Isn't what I intended. I've been inflicted With internal indisposition. In need of an ideal identity. Who am I without This ****** to make me whole? How do I heave my heart Away from this hole? Have you seen how hard this is? But it's been short of a year, Of believing I can simply be. And before I break Bleed me of my bane. And for me, bear no malice. Tightly take me Away from my terible tempest. Time tells me it's time to stop. Too long I've tortured my tenemet. Tame the tantrum tearing through me. Sober seems strong, But it's systematic survival. Stopping the surrender To something stimulating. Learning to stand sedated. No I'm no longer numb. No longer neglecting my need For new novcane. Knowing I'll never need This vaccine again. You are all my ambition. Dispelling my ailments And afflictions. I am hard to adore, I know. You are my new addiction. You have me dreaming, Praying we are real. Made me feel. Don't decieve my brittle belief. Keep me, don't leave. I'm not the kind to fly. For you i'd try to dive. Unafraid I might die. I don't hide from the night. This is what I've been trying to find.
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Tip of the tongue the teeth and the lips
To realize, your malice intent, and power hungry destruction of my most hidden and vulnerable ***** I am relieved to be free of your vindictive and spiteful soul; everything about you is abrasive, brooding and angry, vicious and ugly That person,  so gentle and endearing is lost, I am not so sure he even exists, just one of your many disorderly personas And to think of my pain, self-mutilating thoughts and attempts to make sense of the shock trying to free myself from your lock of enamoring lies. I could feel the end when we had just sprouted, battling my intuition with a fawn dawn heart- with you, I finally felt full after some empty time. But upon reflection of your undeniable misogyny, I thank you! I could not be more thankful for you exiting my life, the confirmation of this delusion we called love, I am so thankful I was tricked, you see, without honesty, I could only give you so much, and only that much, is what you could take away from me- Leaving behind such vitality and adventurous expression, Charm, wits and sentiment for living the performer in me you never could accept, Merely shaking the strength only a woman could have. You could never break me, although you tried- and in that I find pity, that you feel so small You seek power in destroying a lover like breaking a heart is a triumph, You are no huntsman and I am not your doe I refuse to be your object for show
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Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
Misogynist ************
Technology. Technology is one of those things that is good and bad. It can save lives and ruin them. They can make people feel happy, and sad. It can delete and it can send. Technology can destroy and create, it can rebuild and make things complete. It can make things crumble, devastate. It can knock things down, delete. Technology is a weapon that nobody can control., from cyber space and a nuclear weapon, It makes some people poor and drowns some in gold. You can ruin a life with a push of a button. You can ridicule somebody using a picture, text, post you can get so caught up in the moment that you forget what matters the most. That the people you antagonize are actually people, not just a receiver of a nasty comment. No matter what you think, words hurt, hiding behind a computer screen doesn't change that. Mental scars you can insert, if you know what to say, and how to act, . Technology is a force not to be messed with, it can turn a battle into a war, and not just a myth. And then you'll only hurt others even more. Be responsible while using technology, and maybe we can prevent the scars, and the victims that feel the need to flee. You can chose to let your malice go, let it drive away like a car, and instead prevent further hurt, and hopefully make the others see.
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Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
Technology.
Well then I've lost it again. It's all gone, nothings left to find. There are no reasons for time, to unwind, to be blind to anything you find that's helpful. Doubtful, you see everything in me. From my malice to my chi. You feel it quick and it resonates your soul. Like the sound you get, when sliding wet flesh on a glass of water. Your energy fluxuates, in such wavelengths, that my heart must beat along. To a song of your love. Of which i have never felt anything above. You can tell, whether I'm quivering or quaking, shivering, shaking. Your what I want most but whats hardest to keep. You're in reach of the stars but won't let yourself see. I've been waiting for you, and I'll wait for eternity.
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May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
I've been waiting for You
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ? Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through. From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal. Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me. I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple, silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it. So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level. My writing style might have been through changes, might have come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern. That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone. But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time which had stopped passing anymore. So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without any light to expose it to the world outside my head. Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been a  route, from which I learn and educate. So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter. As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze ~ Umi
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:55 PM UTC
Despair
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ? Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through. From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal. Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me. I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple, silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it. So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level. My writing style might have been through changes, might have come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern. That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone. But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time which had stopped passing anymore. So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without any light to expose it to the world outside my head. Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been a  route, from which I learn and educate. So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter. As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze ~ Umi
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26
Russia and America circle each other; Threats nudge an act that were without doubt A melting of the mould in the mother, Stones melting about the root. The quick of the earth burned out: The toil of all our ages a loss With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought (Not to be thought ridiculous) Shies from the world-cancelling black Of its playing shadow: it has learned That there's no trusting (trusting to luck) Dates when the world's due to be burned; That the future's no calamitous change But a malingering of now, Histories, towns, faces that no Malice or accident much derange. And though bomb be matched against bomb, Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure -- Earth gone in an instant flare -- Did a lesser death come Onto the white hospital bed Where one, numb beyond her last of sense, Closed her eyes on the world's evidence And into pillows sunk her head.
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9.8k
A Woman Unconscious
he looks at the world through ragged eyes, he gazes lovingly up at Her, his daily façade a disguise, Inside a cur. She looks at the world with ambitious intent, Her sadistic malice is his pleasure, Her feet on his back quite content, A moment he will treasure. his obedience runs deep, Moments of agony are memories to keep.
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Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 4:51 PM UTC
The Crow And The Worm
A cigarette is pathetic tinder For lighting a revolution In a house were curtains are drawn Against all outside movement And trinkets of an affair Are cast away with casualty Or slipped between the pages Of books no one will read- Dense things With a sense of malice Scratched into their surfaces, Un-dyed by the sun
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Tinder
Malice ripples lying low, under penetrating nightlife strobe. Repercussions? None to show. Limp bodies 'getting loose' In truth, injected with poison; a slow-acting noose. Repulsive actions of the vile & depraved **** endorsed at raves.
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Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 4:56 AM UTC
Spiked
We marched to the words of "We Shall Overcome" courting justice to walk at our side, seared into memory with the heat of sun brothers and sisters, arms linked one to one beneath that day star's unblinking eye, we marched to the words, "We Shall Overcome." We swore an oath to forego the gun, to carry only freedom's cry beneath the impassive afternoon sun, through bludgeon and cudgel one by one, each truncheon summoning others to rise, to join in the words "We Shall Overcome." As we embraced, the marching done, a crosshairs trained a sniper’s eye to wrench malice from the indifferent sun to hew a path in blood and bone, to rend flesh                      and a rasping                                               fatal sigh . . . in the fading caress of the afternoon sun. Beneath the eternal arc of the sun, again we will muster side by side, a sanctified chorus, whose song will be sung, let our marching echo...                                           "We Shall Overcome.” Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks Conceived after visiting the LORRAINE HOTEL (Memphis, Tennessee), the site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Thursday, 4 April 1968. In 1991 the NATIONAL CIVIL RIGHTS MUSEUM at the LORRAINE HOTEL was opened to the public. "We Shall Overcome”, an anthem, title and refrain, of the American Civil Rights Movement of the mid 20th century.
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
INCANTATION OF RESISTANCE
We marched to the words of "We Shall Overcome" courting justice to walk at our side, seared into memory with the heat of sun brothers and sisters, arms linked one to one beneath that day star's unblinking eye, we marched to the words, "We Shall Overcome." We swore an oath to forego the gun, to carry only freedom's cry beneath the impassive afternoon sun, through bludgeon and cudgel one by one, each truncheon summoning others to rise, to join in the words "We Shall Overcome." As we embraced, the marching done, a crosshairs trained a sniper’s eye to wrench malice from the indifferent sun to hew a path in blood and bone, to rend flesh                      and a rasping                                               fatal sigh . . . in the fading caress of the afternoon sun. Beneath the eternal arc of the sun, again we will muster side by side, a sanctified chorus, whose song will be sung, let our marching echo...                                           "We Shall Overcome.” Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks Conceived after visiting the LORRAINE HOTEL (Memphis, Tennessee), the site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Thursday, 4 April 1968. In 1991 the NATIONAL CIVIL RIGHTS MUSEUM at the LORRAINE HOTEL was opened to the public. "We Shall Overcome”, an anthem, title and refrain, of the American Civil Rights Movement of the mid 20th century.
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29
If a husband and wife don't quarrel or if a husband and wife have never quarreled before, then it means that they are not telling each other the truth. If a boyfriend has never quarreled with his girlfriend before, it means they are deceiving each other. What am trying to say is that two couples must have a misunderstanding or quarrel. It is normal. But what is not normal is malice. I have seen cases where a husband and his wife don't greet each other for one week and yet they are living in the same house. I have seen cases where husband and wife don't talk to each other for many days because of a small quarrel that happened. I have also seen a case where a man refused to eat his wife's food because his wife quarreled with him. A boyfriend will not call his girlfriend for many weeks because of one little misunderstanding. Why? Because of ego. Nobody wants to be the first to apology. This is very bad. Malice destroys marriage and relationship. When both of you had a quarrel, do not nurse the anger for up to 24 hours. If your partner did not apology, be the first to say "am sorry" even if you are not at fault. Just do it for the sake of peace. Two wrongs cannot make a right. Save your relationship. Any man who refuses to eat his wife's food because of a quarrel is a boy. The man is not mature at all. Malice is childish. Mature people quarrel and settle and play together again on that same day. Save your marriage. Save your relationship.
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Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
HOW TO HANDLE MALICE & FIGHT IN MARRIAGE AND RELATIONSHIP:
Iron which has been exposed to the rain, is likely to become rusty. Weakening, brcoming fragile along the way, changing colours. Because it couldn't resist the cruel, cold, pungent, sharp rain, which has been brought by onimous, dark, clouds. Those have come to claim the heavens, in malice, for themselves as they spread their offspring, letting it fall to the earth, fertilising it. Once standing proud, the iron faced the weather carelessly, brave, in such sense that it might have looked intimidating, impressive and of course noble to some degree. But for now it has aged, has become frail, feeble and slender. Distorting its structure until suddenly it is not capable of holding itself together, falling back down to the earth from which it came. With enough care and treatment, such a fate would be avoidable, But it is overlooked, chosen to be replaced instead of getting enough attention and so the metal decays in its oxidation, through time. Until all of it has become a soft, crumbling powder. Ruined by the simple raindrops, coming from a stormy day. ~ Umi
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 3:26 AM UTC
The Iron
Ignored by a thought I thought if I ignored him and his request for spare change his plight would fade away And his face would fail my memory I thought the night was differently quiet Interrupted by clench of teeth, ****** holes and malice of man Gun shot, pain, and the victim of a plan I thought if I ignored the wound The dream would change moods The blood drop would be love knots And the victim would be you I thought if I ignored the flash of life Mine would be spared That the death to come would flee me And instead you would be here I thought of ignoring my persistence And give in to the dark void But then I thought of loving you And fought to stay relevant I thought of a lot of things But never to give him the change in my pockets Now I'm a prayer and a fading thought Ignored by the passing crowd A layer on the cake walk An after note on your brow.....(Cont.) Xin
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Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:18 PM UTC
Ignored by a thought
Absence of malice Her smile whispers Eyes in agreement with subtle grace Indulged gestures I prearrange From the first place am I caught in a haze With the rate of exchange and no charming phrase   Exquisite delicacies seem ornamental yet feels pretty real her flirtatious displays No harm I can still be sentimental As I take note to compose then reappraise Empirical proof whether artful or not Her passes are strickly incidental
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Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
Enchanting Smile
'tis a sad sad tale of woe of which I sing of gods and godesses and their lessening how forlorn the goddess Ceres once loved by all and wooed by many when unprovoked and unforeseen a war was wrought 'gainst fair queen caught unawares her throne assailed her forces scattered 'twas all unfair cast down she was from lofty throne no longer crowned no more beloved pierced thru with many thorns belittled and besmirched her reputation and now her station lost far beyond re-incarnation silently she slips away lost and near forgotten wounded and rarely seen her sullen thoughts of malice reign shamed and bleeding plotting her revenge till time and chance provide the proper circumstance then all the thorns that pierced her thru she shook as many blades and hurled those bitter barbs as one 'gainst Hades' mighty gates shaken he from his dark slumber his rallied forces armed in numbers their banners raised on solar breezes as trumpets blare thru breathless reaches voices shout in protestation slide rules locked in astrometric calculations oh see how Ceres scorned and mocked has wrought her rotting vengeance on Pluto's frozen rocks "Oh woe to thee my Persephone flee thee now to thy father's house for thy husband's hearth hath been broken and Hades' home now just a token My lofty edifice a shattered wrack an' all that's left 'tis a humble wretched shack" Pic Poem https://www.pix-star.com/media/cache_local/download/23fc881b88e812947b061094f5694d32/JPlutoThouHastFallen-e52.jpg .
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Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
Pluto, Thou Hast Fallen
'tis a sad sad tale of woe of which I sing of gods and godesses and their lessening how forlorn the goddess Ceres once loved by all and wooed by many when unprovoked and unforeseen a war was wrought 'gainst fair queen caught unawares her throne assailed her forces scattered 'twas all unfair cast down she was from lofty throne no longer crowned no more beloved pierced thru with many thorns belittled and besmirched her reputation and now her station lost far beyond re-incarnation silently she slips away lost and near forgotten wounded and rarely seen her sullen thoughts of malice reign shamed and bleeding plotting her revenge till time and chance provide the proper circumstance then all the thorns that pierced her thru she shook as many blades and hurled those bitter barbs as one 'gainst Hades' mighty gates shaken he from his dark slumber his rallied forces armed in numbers their banners raised on solar breezes as trumpets blare thru breathless reaches voices shout in protestation slide rules locked in astrometric calculations oh see how Ceres scorned and mocked has wrought her rotting vengeance on Pluto's frozen rocks "Oh woe to thee my Persephone flee thee now to thy father's house for thy husband's hearth hath been broken and Hades' home now just a token My lofty edifice a shattered wrack an' all that's left 'tis a humble wretched shack" Pic Poem https://www.pix-star.com/media/cache_local/download/23fc881b88e812947b061094f5694d32/JPlutoThouHastFallen-e52.jpg .
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82
Telling the story of passion, death, and virtue. Tracking deception with freedom's lies. The Traveler passed through that timeless veil between here and there, the spaces between the fantastic delusional minds. That a hunter has when tracking down an accomplished plan. Caught in a Blue Galactic Storm. The Unicorn said. *"Mind your own business the rest of us don't give a **** Yet just as the wheels of the stars keep on turning-- on the heels of a planet surfing the Universes tides. There will always be cycles- and sometimes it happens that they collide-such is the power of the Muse. My story is one of tragedy and despair, with malice and Discord, Regret and Guilty Shame. Swallowed by the darkness empty and Dead. Yet out of nothing sprang Life-- fear to Hope Hate to Love, Recklessness to Responsibility, now I'm changing the tide. With arrows sharp words that fill the Night sky. Once again finding the Magic in these threads-weaving a world I've known and dread. Always mocked by the Queen of Hearts, hunting, desiring; "Metamorphosis" But Truth and Memory found the way. A ghost shell that’s crossed the Styx of the Grave, The Muse inside no longer be spelled drifting now to unsure shores, Just as Dante mapped out Hell, so will I my tale: Psyche (Human Soul) captive to the Ice of Pluto-shed no tears. This prison made flesh by mortal woe-lost, forgotten, But Morpheus came to me then. "You still have your Dreams." Then the madness came looming. The facts blurred and suddenly Phoebe appeared: with a playful far off expression. "Oh Persephone, mourn the falling leaves, for it is the last of them you will see.”
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Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
Changes
Telling the story of passion, death, and virtue. Tracking deception with freedom's lies. The Traveler passed through that timeless veil between here and there, the spaces between the fantastic delusional minds. That a hunter has when tracking down an accomplished plan. Caught in a Blue Galactic Storm. The Unicorn said. *"Mind your own business the rest of us don't give a **** Yet just as the wheels of the stars keep on turning-- on the heels of a planet surfing the Universes tides. There will always be cycles- and sometimes it happens that they collide-such is the power of the Muse. My story is one of tragedy and despair, with malice and Discord, Regret and Guilty Shame. Swallowed by the darkness empty and Dead. Yet out of nothing sprang Life-- fear to Hope Hate to Love, Recklessness to Responsibility, now I'm changing the tide. With arrows sharp words that fill the Night sky. Once again finding the Magic in these threads-weaving a world I've known and dread. Always mocked by the Queen of Hearts, hunting, desiring; "Metamorphosis" But Truth and Memory found the way. A ghost shell that’s crossed the Styx of the Grave, The Muse inside no longer be spelled drifting now to unsure shores, Just as Dante mapped out Hell, so will I my tale: Psyche (Human Soul) captive to the Ice of Pluto-shed no tears. This prison made flesh by mortal woe-lost, forgotten, But Morpheus came to me then. "You still have your Dreams." Then the madness came looming. The facts blurred and suddenly Phoebe appeared: with a playful far off expression. "Oh Persephone, mourn the falling leaves, for it is the last of them you will see.”
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39
those **** trolls fish for gloom baiting your roses and bloom behind their mask and costume a guise filled with malice loom there spans from the beasts womb a monster preying your doom they take your light to dark displume like fishes facing the jaws of gloom eliot watches schools get entomb like a stepping stone to their fume it takes no rocket scientist's broom to sweep the trolls from the classroom nears the hour of our death, trolls resume Logan Robertson 8/21/2018
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:00 PM UTC
Those ****** Trolls
R Red moon came to soon the red "Viper" love spoon E Energy trembles hearts race eluding like the Dodge Viper D Devil red ****** moons demolition Dodge of technology M The moon of darkness dissolves like lava "Hot Male" O Orderly overindulgence the moon at a comfortable rhythm O Out of touch slowly getting back to your outstanding body N New Age High noon time Eqyptian Nile moon neverending S Shift of energy simplicity strengthens your existence T Truly love for the family the moons makes a celebration A- Able so articulate touch the moon lover fate R Robin bird flies manifest the ruler the rider risque delighter S Sensible and a seductive moon she is superstitious C Circle of light sacred chalice not to be malice An Amorous depth of feeling delicious Moon love key luxury R Rituals turns to purity racing minds of sanity ♥ Car Vipers ♥ V Vampires blood moon lessons to be learned I Ingenious Free yourself from anger all love inked P Patience is a virtue Moon true Periwinkle blue E Ecstasy the moon turns on the celebration of love R Recollection of moon poems time to be Reborn S Sensational Venus Soulmate of cars Sultry Valentine moon I can't wait to come home soon that was a trip to my moon. °• Dodge Viper •°”˜. zoomed off to the Red Moon
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:50 AM UTC
Red Moon Dodge Viper
I'm sorry that our situationship has got to end I am the only one who is to blame Its time for me to stop as if it's all pretend Now I feel nothing but sorrow and shame. I'm sorry but I feel the urge to leave Our situationship has lasted for quite a while When I think of you I can't help but grieve Maybe one day we will make up and reconcile I look about on the good times we spent together The conversations we had were wonderful and great I'm sorry we have to end it but its for the better Please don't think of me as filled with malice or hate I still hold your hold close to my heart Dont make this situationship be a memory Its sad that our situationship has drifted apart So when you look up above, remember me.
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Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
Situationship
Jealousy is sneaky. It makes you believe that you’re not really pretty. It plays tricks with your mind, It makes you relate only with negativity all the time. Jealousy is fake. It makes you mistake dullness with greatness. It leans more on back biting and shade. Jealousy is dangerous. Even though you’re Fabulous, It makes you feel uptight about your lack of confidence. It makes you feel useless, It keeps you in malice and offense. Jealousy lives to compete. In order to control mind games and accept defeat, To keep your jealousy on duplicitous repeat.
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Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Jealousy