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"mazes" poems
Sully suffers from a stutter, simple syllables will clutter, stalling speeches up on beaches, like a sunken sailboat rudder. Sully strains to say his phrases, sickened by the sounds he raises, strings of thoughts come out in knots, he solves his sentences like mazes. At night, he writes his thoughts instead and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Sully
I am Alice in Wonderland. Wandering around wondering what this is all about. All these mazes, all these changing faces... Where is my shining horse that will lead me to the right course? Here I am he says! But I do not see all the pieces yet... So I stumble! And I fall... and I hear myself call what is the meaning to this all? But then the clouds part. The only sound my beating heart... and I see the light so ever beautifully bright And my shining horse runs up to stand beside me and I let him guide me all the way to The Way up, up, and away and we fly, so high, above the night sky, and I let go of my fears and I feel the tears stream down my face as we arrive at your place and I hear myself yell to break this spell I'm here! I'm here! Have no fear! I see you! I see you! and I take your hand and you take mine, forever now our lives intertwined.
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Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
Alice Sun
The Story by Kamal Nasser translation by Michael R. Burch I will tell you a story ... a story that lived in the dreams of my people, a story that comes from the world of tents. It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror. It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees. Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels. It is the story of the suffering ones who stood waiting in line ten years, in hunger, in tears and agony, in hardship and yearning. It is a story of a people who were misled, who were thrown into the mazes of the years. And yet they stood defiant, disrobed yet united as they trudged from the light to their tents: the revolution of return into the world of darkness. Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser. Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people. Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
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Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Translation of "The Story" by the Palestinian poet Kamal Nasser
The Story by Kamal Nasser translation by Michael R. Burch I will tell you a story ... a story that lived in the dreams of my people, a story that comes from the world of tents. It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror. It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees. Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels. It is the story of the suffering ones who stood waiting in line ten years, in hunger, in tears and agony, in hardship and yearning. It is a story of a people who were misled, who were thrown into the mazes of the years. And yet they stood defiant, disrobed yet united as they trudged from the light to their tents: the revolution of return into the world of darkness. Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser. Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people. Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
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I don't know what to say right now. The simplicity of this page haunts me It's too easy I'm used to more options Endless confusion Charts spotted with lines and dots and angles and rights and wrongs and yes's and no's Mazes with corners and rigid edges like life is allowed to be put into boxes like breaths and thoughts and the surface of tears dripping like melting glass from an eyelash are meant to be stuffed into sharpness without the blessing of shadows not gradual like the snap of electricity through an outlet frying all the atoms in its path. I'm cold, it's dark, I whisper.
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Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
First
Birthdays from childhood Are full of celebrations, is understood. It was not any different for me Till the unusual plea! For my 13th birhday The first time I gave away! Instead of getting gifts I contributed to the orphans by giving gifts... Now I look back to those days On how happy were they in all ways I have given tones of gifts To my fellow companions But nothing can equalize the happy faces Of the orphans in their mazes. Even today I relish The small gifts I bestowed To those unknown orphans,,, Is what which makes my life today With a brimming hurray! The way they valued my gifts No matter how small They looked at me tall, And gave the happiest call Which I would never forget at all! Those were the real happy days of mine Which are valued as divine And will never decline But I do hope will combine To give more hapiness: for I define:- We make a living by what we get And make a life by what we give!.
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Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
The Joy Of Giving
Get up out that bed Slip out that depression Everyday you wake up is a blessing Life ain't over Pick your head up smile Get it together Sitting around miserable Ain't gone make it no better Tuff times don't last they only make you better Life ain't  over it So he cheated on you? Your friends turned they backs on you ? Life ain't over Social media got you tripping Like you ain't worth **** But in reality The ones stunting Be broke as **** Life ain't over The world is changing You just now seeing the facts Life ain't over Ain't no app to get it back You was put here for a reason They only here for a season Life ain't over Make a deference today Life ain't over **** how they see it do it your way Life ain't over You keep your eyes on the prize But give God the praises He's with you at all times Even when life throws you mazes Life ain't over -Lynn Browning Lynn Browning ©
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
LIFE AIN'T OVER
Ruby red slippers, rich with passionate love for you, dear state, as I search your land, grazing the colors, the life, and the mystery of weeds choking gravestones, tangling the dead. But you, dear state, yourself is so gentle. Kansas, you stretch to ****** my curls; to stroke my tender cheek with a flock of sunflowers, blooming vivid gold and a mizzle of musicality, too high, too loud for me. Your screams of country overwhelm me. Why you, dear state, never treat us to tangles of concrete nor mazes of glass? Kansas, your heaven gives me migraine.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
Wichita's Chagrin
Sun an eternal flame Burning up my mental strain Incinerating my self doubt Release it..Um let it out Normally I don't give a **** A Scorpio M.A.N is what I am Venomous when I sting Most can't handle what I bring Emotions come in many phases Draw a map..navigate the mazes Some days I'm dark I sing the blues Emotions there for me to use Transforming them with my magic touch I feel them hit me in a rush When in tune I'm like a song So with these words I babble on Just begun so watch me grow Flooding minds with my Freestyle Flow..
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Freestyle Flow
Business people live silly little lives… Walking so fast in pleated pants… Racing around self-imposed mazes… Will they have anything to say when it’s all over? Everyday spent “delivering solutions”… Neutered emotionless existences… Sitting there with that doe eyed look… Will they have anything to say when it’s all over? Driving cars and tolerating personal lives… Each and every day a pre-defined process… Anxiety, fear and caffeine distorting brains… Will they have anything to say when it’s all over?
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Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
Business People
I once was on an endless journey Of turning left and right, There was bramble all around me, only Nothing not alike. Though none were up above me I could not see the sky, All except my inner strength, I had been left alone to die. Deserted by the moon and stars, I was even without light, But desperate to be free again, I braved the endless night. Time escaped me, also I traveled a day, a week, a year, But my body never weakened, Nor hunger did I fear. Even if I neared the end I had no way to be sure, So, I promised myself it was close ahead, Just one more set of turns. But the exit never greeted me And disappointment, it grew strong I had broken so many promises, My credibility was gone. I could no longer reassure my mind, So I faced the truth instead, I prepared myself for eternity – And an endless path ahead.
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Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
I Dreamt of Mazes
Above my home where the dark clouds curl into the sky clinging for a home to rest their sleepy depiction, shadowed trees hum sweet lullabies, lonely leaves breathe in the sad song of fallen dimensions, letting its lifeless view roll upon their frame, the chilled breeze sailing in the skyline, as I scramble my way out of a filthy dumpster, a mountain of disintegrating mess covering my broken body, hovering flies surrounding sticky strips of spaghetti, moldy mashed potatoes, and moldy chicken *** pies, while my mind sunk into traveled thoughts, bruised hands pressed against the creases in my forehead, allowing my existence to feel the stranded scars streaming in various mazes, dull eyes flushed with a burning disorder, aching cheeks and chests nestled in darkening chamber corners, buried hips and thighs uprooting in somber blades of grass, thorned, torn, and destroyed in different worlds.  As I stood on the slippery pavement staring at the ruffled scenery in my sight, spinning streetlights thickening into slouched positions, screaming sidewalks spilling sadness and madness in the drenched air, razor-edged buildings inching into crushed centimeters, jumbled meters, ****** yards.  I replayed the sober images in my head, the way my young brown-skinned mom said I would never amount to anything, how I could hear the raged noun ****** sift into the distance, its flaming mechanics accelerating into screeching sounds, the way she hurled her fists at my smashed face, every vibrant language breaking apart, slamming shut into closed infinites, snagged contractions and gerunds diverging into shuddering double spaced negatives, the way she threw my lingering body inside the trash dumpster, her sharp scarlet words, You are no son of mine, ricocheting off savage surfaces, sparking my soul in a calamity of choking diction.
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
You Are No Son Of Mine
Above my home where the dark clouds curl into the sky clinging for a home to rest their sleepy depiction, shadowed trees hum sweet lullabies, lonely leaves breathe in the sad song of fallen dimensions, letting its lifeless view roll upon their frame, the chilled breeze sailing in the skyline, as I scramble my way out of a filthy dumpster, a mountain of disintegrating mess covering my broken body, hovering flies surrounding sticky strips of spaghetti, moldy mashed potatoes, and moldy chicken *** pies, while my mind sunk into traveled thoughts, bruised hands pressed against the creases in my forehead, allowing my existence to feel the stranded scars streaming in various mazes, dull eyes flushed with a burning disorder, aching cheeks and chests nestled in darkening chamber corners, buried hips and thighs uprooting in somber blades of grass, thorned, torn, and destroyed in different worlds.  As I stood on the slippery pavement staring at the ruffled scenery in my sight, spinning streetlights thickening into slouched positions, screaming sidewalks spilling sadness and madness in the drenched air, razor-edged buildings inching into crushed centimeters, jumbled meters, ****** yards.  I replayed the sober images in my head, the way my young brown-skinned mom said I would never amount to anything, how I could hear the raged noun ****** sift into the distance, its flaming mechanics accelerating into screeching sounds, the way she hurled her fists at my smashed face, every vibrant language breaking apart, slamming shut into closed infinites, snagged contractions and gerunds diverging into shuddering double spaced negatives, the way she threw my lingering body inside the trash dumpster, her sharp scarlet words, You are no son of mine, ricocheting off savage surfaces, sparking my soul in a calamity of choking diction.
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Standing there With a mute stare Amazed by you Paralyzed by you I became a speechless poet No free-flowing words to inhibit Stuck in redundant phrases Running around in silent mazes My bright poetry is suddenly evanescent How did you freeze my precious talent? My fancy lies and my sincere confessions My angry cries and my serene discretions My skill dies distorted by your presence As my voice tries hardly a single expression Then my brain denies your acute aggression As my fixed eyes scream my inner passion Then you left. You left But I stayed there With my mute stare Speechless because of you Brainless because of you My stupidity crystal clear My creativity in denial And you left me here wishing you stayed near Suffering from your withdrawal ~Epic Monkey
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
Speechless Poet
knew a girl named Faith who had none at all husky breath, taut body aligning laughter with anyone in sight sotto voce- fading into the carriage of the night rolling within the mazes she chooses she's a tall tower squishing my chest tabi heels from margiela give her all my love but it's never enough takes it all and serves it to everyone else crosses for earrings knew a girl named Faith and i love her
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Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Faith
I A body of white walls houses familiarity Somehow even familiarity distorted itself beneath raw cinder blocks doused white enough that I could see the eyes of the past the eyes of the future looking back at me, the eyes of the present Must journey behind the white walls into the familiar unknown For there is something there Beyond walls so very high They only crumble, only die For there is something there I must look now through the deep crevices deep through my mind For there is something there Do I find? I see people I see minds Beyond the white walls looking back at I Why oh why must I continue? looking forward only to look back again I am stuck, encased inside eternity Only looking back to find a way out a way out of me Me I have always been my own infinity Inside, a prisoner handcuffed to the white walls I am shackled here, alive kicking Death here in the eternal infinity Great intellects dead, killed by me I am my own infinity I must **** me I will be free no longer shackled I am my own infinity I am my own uncertainty I am my own familiarity It is me I am my own infinity The white walls close in on me, my own infinity I do not want to change myself I do not want to change me I change I die Death’s kiss might be sweet Death’s kiss may free me, finally Yet I cannot accept it I will not I just want to be me but I am everyone else and they are me my own infinity Everything, everything Beyond the white walls are nothing you see White walls everywhere White walls everything Encasing all of us It is here, it is here The white walls shackle us, shackle us to reality, society There is forever no infinity in me The familiarity tastes of death mistaken for reality society The burning truth The familiarity the distorted familiarity that is reality society We rely on each other So much we shoot each other We are not strong We are not smart We can be We can’t be If we break the shackles If we keep the shackles I am in pieces I am shattered like glass I cannot do this I cannot presume Death’s kiss seems sweeter than ever (forever lost in my own infinity) You see we build ourselves up so the white walls eat us up until we are part of the white walls until we are part of the unknown familiarity Can I break through? want to need to break through White walls oh, white walls I’ve been punching for so long I am tired, I am weary Resisting, rebelling Far too long White walls, White mazes Around my infinite familiarity I cannot make it out of myself So I walk, So I walk, This great maze of my soul Humorous, I call it a great maze I only walk in circles Forever in cycle I’ve felt the tears, Fallen onto the white walls Hard to tell if they are clear or just another drop of paint Mind loops back on itself, (always does) Losing it (finally insane) A mad man I am A new coat to adorn Darker darker darker Cracks, crevices the white walls emit abysmal black paint So-cold oil, (called paint) I will make darkness burn It stings, makes a statement deep within me Have you ever felt pain? Have you ever felt life? Walls I have forgotten what color infinity was Happiness, feels so white but burns so dark Have you ever felt dark? Dark feels me as I wander, wither In white darkness
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
White Walls I
I A body of white walls houses familiarity Somehow even familiarity distorted itself beneath raw cinder blocks doused white enough that I could see the eyes of the past the eyes of the future looking back at me, the eyes of the present Must journey behind the white walls into the familiar unknown For there is something there Beyond walls so very high They only crumble, only die For there is something there I must look now through the deep crevices deep through my mind For there is something there Do I find? I see people I see minds Beyond the white walls looking back at I Why oh why must I continue? looking forward only to look back again I am stuck, encased inside eternity Only looking back to find a way out a way out of me Me I have always been my own infinity Inside, a prisoner handcuffed to the white walls I am shackled here, alive kicking Death here in the eternal infinity Great intellects dead, killed by me I am my own infinity I must **** me I will be free no longer shackled I am my own infinity I am my own uncertainty I am my own familiarity It is me I am my own infinity The white walls close in on me, my own infinity I do not want to change myself I do not want to change me I change I die Death’s kiss might be sweet Death’s kiss may free me, finally Yet I cannot accept it I will not I just want to be me but I am everyone else and they are me my own infinity Everything, everything Beyond the white walls are nothing you see White walls everywhere White walls everything Encasing all of us It is here, it is here The white walls shackle us, shackle us to reality, society There is forever no infinity in me The familiarity tastes of death mistaken for reality society The burning truth The familiarity the distorted familiarity that is reality society We rely on each other So much we shoot each other We are not strong We are not smart We can be We can’t be If we break the shackles If we keep the shackles I am in pieces I am shattered like glass I cannot do this I cannot presume Death’s kiss seems sweeter than ever (forever lost in my own infinity) You see we build ourselves up so the white walls eat us up until we are part of the white walls until we are part of the unknown familiarity Can I break through? want to need to break through White walls oh, white walls I’ve been punching for so long I am tired, I am weary Resisting, rebelling Far too long White walls, White mazes Around my infinite familiarity I cannot make it out of myself So I walk, So I walk, This great maze of my soul Humorous, I call it a great maze I only walk in circles Forever in cycle I’ve felt the tears, Fallen onto the white walls Hard to tell if they are clear or just another drop of paint Mind loops back on itself, (always does) Losing it (finally insane) A mad man I am A new coat to adorn Darker darker darker Cracks, crevices the white walls emit abysmal black paint So-cold oil, (called paint) I will make darkness burn It stings, makes a statement deep within me Have you ever felt pain? Have you ever felt life? Walls I have forgotten what color infinity was Happiness, feels so white but burns so dark Have you ever felt dark? Dark feels me as I wander, wither In white darkness
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238
Rain showers, mazes uncovered Dancing like a little child with a toy Reclaimed as the drizzles recovers Pouncing  jumps like a kangaroo The winter burns as the fire blaze Warmed by the ambience of the logs Reflections denuded, secrets unearthed Times lost bouncing like a ball Bare and **** in the cool mist and fog A shadowy phantom arises me An Orion exhibit, my alpha constellation Carving me out of the hidden cave
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Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
Orion Phantom
I can feel the loneliness deep inside the half-shaped moon, stripped, scorched, destroyed, shifting, scrambled diction, hazy nonfiction, drifting consonants and vowels lingering in meaningless frames, confined in a sleepless state, searching for its missing outer being to make it complete, quivering in solemnness, struggling for freedom and perfection, conflicting science crumbling without reason, evaporating equations swallowed into unfamiliar places, sunken history tumbling into the depths of the abyss, disconnected from the great milky clouds and glorious sun, its wandering metaphors hovering in some unknown distant kingdom, in the depths of a solitary dungeon, dying of its creative invention, broken sounds sluggishly surfacing for air, fading shadows seeping further out into the inner wave of Saturn, its decaying reflection changing between time and space, rising and falling in forgotten eternities, declining in rhyme and harmonizing patterns, as shattered lovers diminish apart from one another, locked away in frigid and featureless mazes, drowned galaxies floating in sinking outer spaces, vivid blackness surrounding its sunken design, lost languages falling apart into split and hidden dimensions, swimming in stuttering syllables across the crimson seas.
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
Loneliness Inside The Moon
Beauty out in the open, light falls on linoleum tiles like heel-worn stones Windows to a sunny world sit at the end of locker-lined tunnels, beckoning beyond fluorescent mazes Clotted with conversation, upperclassmen stroll like the elderly Young blood doge or cling to the sides, scared of the critical runway that is us Windows to a sunny world sit at the end of locker-lined tunnels, beckoning beyond fluorescent mazes Eyes from all sides, thinking nothing yet are supplied by our own thoughts Young blood doge or cling to the sides, scared of the critical runway that is us Finding refuge in educational terrariums, an ecosystem that saves me from the weight Eyes from all sides, thinking nothing yet are supplied by our own thoughts Finding solace in stairwells, sealed off by doors and hold awkward opportunities Finding refuge in educational terrariums, an ecosystem that saves me from the weight Clanging like a child’s cry releases stress like floodgates, another trip into the shark tank Finding solace in stairwells, sealed off by doors and hold awkward opportunities Open doors that are actually closed; they are like aquariums – no tapping on the glass please. Clanging like a child’s cry releases stress like floodgates, another trip into the shark tank The longer I stay the more I wish to leave, away from substituted confrontations Open doors that are actually closed; they are like aquariums – no tapping on the glass please. Prejudice like heavy rain beats at my skin and soaks my clothes - but I know it was I who brought the downpour The longer I stay the more I wish to leave, away from substituted confrontations Must comparisons be so obvious when I walk alone, unprotected? They are lucky to have such equals to act as parents; they hold each other’s hands to keep from drowning Prejudice like heavy rain beats at my skin and soaks my clothes – but I know it was I who brought the downpour They pull like vultures at flesh; I am not allowed to wrap myself in hurricanes while out in the open Must comparisons be so obvious when I walk alone, unprotected? They are lucky to have such equals to act as parents; they hold each other’s hands to keep from drowning Ignorance is bliss, they say, and truth that is here – the less you know the less hate you bear the weight of. They pull like vultures at flesh; I am not allowed to wrap myself in hurricanes while out in the open Look down, one foot – and then the other! Ignorance is bliss they say, and truth that is here – the less you know the less hate you bear the weight of. Anger and sadness, guilt and fear turn like Viewmaster slides lit up by the sun Or am I on my own here? Each boy's path runs along each other like long-exposure stars, leaving streaks between the darkness.
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Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
Repercussions.
Beauty out in the open, light falls on linoleum tiles like heel-worn stones Windows to a sunny world sit at the end of locker-lined tunnels, beckoning beyond fluorescent mazes Clotted with conversation, upperclassmen stroll like the elderly Young blood doge or cling to the sides, scared of the critical runway that is us Windows to a sunny world sit at the end of locker-lined tunnels, beckoning beyond fluorescent mazes Eyes from all sides, thinking nothing yet are supplied by our own thoughts Young blood doge or cling to the sides, scared of the critical runway that is us Finding refuge in educational terrariums, an ecosystem that saves me from the weight Eyes from all sides, thinking nothing yet are supplied by our own thoughts Finding solace in stairwells, sealed off by doors and hold awkward opportunities Finding refuge in educational terrariums, an ecosystem that saves me from the weight Clanging like a child’s cry releases stress like floodgates, another trip into the shark tank Finding solace in stairwells, sealed off by doors and hold awkward opportunities Open doors that are actually closed; they are like aquariums – no tapping on the glass please. Clanging like a child’s cry releases stress like floodgates, another trip into the shark tank The longer I stay the more I wish to leave, away from substituted confrontations Open doors that are actually closed; they are like aquariums – no tapping on the glass please. Prejudice like heavy rain beats at my skin and soaks my clothes - but I know it was I who brought the downpour The longer I stay the more I wish to leave, away from substituted confrontations Must comparisons be so obvious when I walk alone, unprotected? They are lucky to have such equals to act as parents; they hold each other’s hands to keep from drowning Prejudice like heavy rain beats at my skin and soaks my clothes – but I know it was I who brought the downpour They pull like vultures at flesh; I am not allowed to wrap myself in hurricanes while out in the open Must comparisons be so obvious when I walk alone, unprotected? They are lucky to have such equals to act as parents; they hold each other’s hands to keep from drowning Ignorance is bliss, they say, and truth that is here – the less you know the less hate you bear the weight of. They pull like vultures at flesh; I am not allowed to wrap myself in hurricanes while out in the open Look down, one foot – and then the other! Ignorance is bliss they say, and truth that is here – the less you know the less hate you bear the weight of. Anger and sadness, guilt and fear turn like Viewmaster slides lit up by the sun Or am I on my own here? Each boy's path runs along each other like long-exposure stars, leaving streaks between the darkness.
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Inception Transcribed  (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ==Inception Transcribed == by SassyJ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (Copy the link below to your browser) Inception and intersection of human life are diverse. We are ushered as a blank canvas to the shores of life. Socialised with values, beliefs and cultures. Our acclimatised acculturation. Submerged in the swampy lowlands each sunk and wandering through and through. This morning I woke and left my house...... looked up to the horizons of nature. And there it was.... a revolving camera smiling at each stride I take... following me and taunting me. Unreserved in institutions, submerged in the ever decaying social structures. Why do we do what we do everyday? Is it part of the human processes and functions? To exist and be absolutely absent but present. I fret, then I smile. Trying to join the puzzles in the mazes. Ever questioning if I am here to learn or to be polluted by bureaucracy. Lets call for an assembly, announce that the town is dead. Yet, its people are gasping, breathing to fill their lives with a new paradigm. Look at me all cyanosed , the blueness of the dying veins... sunk in the redistribution and social panic. Re-engaged in the demoralised democracy. Look at me asking.... What is the meaning of life?
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Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
Inception Transcribed (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
*When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, I'm aware that this may sound crazy and bizzare - if it does, then please do beg my pardon. A secret garden in the woods with such beauty hidden deep within, Full of secret pathways and passages that only special people would know about, fitted with padlocked gates - so not to let any bad people in. Pretty little flowers in vivid colours that please the heart and soul - seen through the eyes of everyone, Butterflies dancing above pristine hills - with hedges making mazes; for a touch of fun. Crimson tree-tops and rose bushes in every beautiful colour ever created, A place that is so unique - from it, no soul could stand to be seperated. Ineffable in its beauty, like a magnet souls are attracted, This secret garden, like a heavenly day dream, in a daze - from it, you cannot be distracted. Whether there was a blue sky, or dark clouds, as a daily rooftop, Love and happiness would be nonstop. A place where loved ones always felt safe and secure, Never wanting to find the secret garden's door. They'd always be free to be themselves, A wish That we all have for ourselves. When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, Now I'm all grown up, and still trying to bring this aspiration to life; this vision, is one, I am never, ever discarding, I really still want my life to be just like a beautiful secret garden, And if this sounds crazy or bizzare... then, please do beg my pardon! By Lady R.F ©2017*
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Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC
Secret Garden
*When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, I'm aware that this may sound crazy and bizzare - if it does, then please do beg my pardon. A secret garden in the woods with such beauty hidden deep within, Full of secret pathways and passages that only special people would know about, fitted with padlocked gates - so not to let any bad people in. Pretty little flowers in vivid colours that please the heart and soul - seen through the eyes of everyone, Butterflies dancing above pristine hills - with hedges making mazes; for a touch of fun. Crimson tree-tops and rose bushes in every beautiful colour ever created, A place that is so unique - from it, no soul could stand to be seperated. Ineffable in its beauty, like a magnet souls are attracted, This secret garden, like a heavenly day dream, in a daze - from it, you cannot be distracted. Whether there was a blue sky, or dark clouds, as a daily rooftop, Love and happiness would be nonstop. A place where loved ones always felt safe and secure, Never wanting to find the secret garden's door. They'd always be free to be themselves, A wish That we all have for ourselves. When I was just a little girl I wanted so much for my life to resemble a beautiful secret garden, Now I'm all grown up, and still trying to bring this aspiration to life; this vision, is one, I am never, ever discarding, I really still want my life to be just like a beautiful secret garden, And if this sounds crazy or bizzare... then, please do beg my pardon! By Lady R.F ©2017*
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what does it take to ruin someone and for them to ruin you? I can look in your eyes and see what is true, I can break into your motives and see why you do it, I can take a flame to the glacier and melt your ice down, but in my ears beating my burning heart sounds like a thunderous cry, etching your name on my soul, when you leave there can be nothing, I can never be whole, my mind is a solver, I crawl into blank spaces and find underneath them the hidden, dark mazes- without the problem there can be no solution, only when you are there can I have absolution- you are a lock to my key that will melt- constantly forming- into something I've lost. Every day has a morning- but the night destroys day and the dark is afraid- I am only for you, now, forever and always (at least til the next, when I fall in the hallways) my heart is not open, it is a strong focused beam- to bring light to your days, and bring hope to your dreams.
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
"A Farewell to Arms" -Ernest Hemingway
The road was long and rough It was a passageway of words A parade of letters and prose The touch of invisible pleasure I moulted like a snake in season I dreamt on a cruiser of reign as we opened my pandora box in the cave The road was smooth and right It was a third eye paradise of seers A mire of misery and blowing wind The tears flew like fireflies on heat I met the shrinks of souls in salt bed I waved the rain as it washed my sins On that sight of the pandora box The road of wrongness and rightness It was an unfolded augury of life An awakened sleeper roared in dreams The days when I touched the skies I took the broken house and mended I saw the clouds as bright as crimson Inside the box when I met my twin The road of love, lust, love, longness It was when the ember coal was wild A blaze of soul collision and resonance The days when doubt taunted in mazes I wrested my mind and the heart knew I tested the precipice and intuition led Inside the unconditional pandora box   The road where I hid and felt alive It was a paradise of shining trees A place where our loneliness merged The safest heaven on barren lands I saw my warrior and he shielded I sat as he ran away with fear and pride On that very opened pandora box The road of unforgotten forever It was a triangulation of continents An immersion of difference and indifference The open table of a scarce connective mess I shed my naive bed and hardened I shut the wild untwisted world On that very inevitable pandora
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 7:09 AM UTC
The Penpal and I:Inside a Pandora Box
The road was long and rough It was a passageway of words A parade of letters and prose The touch of invisible pleasure I moulted like a snake in season I dreamt on a cruiser of reign as we opened my pandora box in the cave The road was smooth and right It was a third eye paradise of seers A mire of misery and blowing wind The tears flew like fireflies on heat I met the shrinks of souls in salt bed I waved the rain as it washed my sins On that sight of the pandora box The road of wrongness and rightness It was an unfolded augury of life An awakened sleeper roared in dreams The days when I touched the skies I took the broken house and mended I saw the clouds as bright as crimson Inside the box when I met my twin The road of love, lust, love, longness It was when the ember coal was wild A blaze of soul collision and resonance The days when doubt taunted in mazes I wrested my mind and the heart knew I tested the precipice and intuition led Inside the unconditional pandora box   The road where I hid and felt alive It was a paradise of shining trees A place where our loneliness merged The safest heaven on barren lands I saw my warrior and he shielded I sat as he ran away with fear and pride On that very opened pandora box The road of unforgotten forever It was a triangulation of continents An immersion of difference and indifference The open table of a scarce connective mess I shed my naive bed and hardened I shut the wild untwisted world On that very inevitable pandora
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*M_ m_nd m_ak_s m_ze_ o_t o_ str_igh_ l_nes*
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
My mind makes mazes out of straight lines
Are you fatigued? Do you have irritable bowel syndrome? Are there irreconcilable differences in your life? Are you Homophobic... "I climb 1,576 stairs" "But I have a lot of gay friends" once we've reached the top, there are no two quarters for the lens. What's driving us, this feeling, this wander? Could you imagine, If kind was ****** compassion. Could you imagine, If kind has no reaction. What a day, what a day, what a day, what a day; it will be. Like children lost in corn mazes....... filled with glee. Hollow are those shallow times, don't you forget about me. What a day, what a day, what a day, what a day; it will be. Luckily those prickly vines, are fading fantastically. _TRF          sometimebforehalloween_
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Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
empire strikes building: **** is a sanctuary
I see you. Standing there, a distinct shape in the shadows. I see you, watching me. The mystique **** of your eyes dancing over my flesh. I fear not the power of your gaze. Until I find myself cowering in that parallel universe of backwards mazes. Left as a child to discover a door to her rusting cage. I see you as I'm (not) cowering.  The vision of a man with blue eyes on fire.
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
Blue Gaze on Fire.