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"mentalities" poems
From creation ill forever stay in rotation, Feeling temptations, which slowly turn into frustrations, Switch feelings, anger turns to rage, which burns to hate, Words change to actions, fuels opportunities to incriminate Blunts begin and go clockwise person to person, thoughts get lifted and minds worsen Mentalities bend, back around the start becomes the end, I forever stay in rotation, travel from station to station, Slowly pacing forward to reach my destination Though from the very start, fates the same ill soon depart Forever in rotation, from birth to death to my reincarnation
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Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
Forever In Rotation
I am my brother's keeper not his reaper But it seems to me people rather die than survive and become stronger than they already were Tsk shame on them, shame on me It is sad that we are stuck in our old mentalities We rather put each other 6 feet underground than help one another climb a mountain Slavery may be over but now we are just binding ourselves in these rusty shackles that were left behind They're cutting through our skin, poisoning our blood, corrupting our minds, making us forget that we have come a long way That we are not where we once were They strain us, drain us of all of our energy Leaving us crawling on the floor searching for scrapes to put ourselves back together again I understand that we are not where we wish to be That we still have a long journey ahead of us That we are still marching forward like soldiers But it is not helping the fact that a brotha can go out and serve in the military for 13yrs and survive but come back home to his own street only to be shot in the head by his own partner Then we complain saying the white man is killing us Hell we are killing us **** black lives matter **** white lives matter **** all **** lives matter What we fail to realize that we are our own future Not them We control what we do We control where we go Not them But if we continue down this dark path we are heading down Well let me just say we won't have a future And again I say... I am my brother's keeper not his reaper But the way things are looking We will be our brother's reapers not their keepers
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
My Brother's Keeper
I am my brother's keeper not his reaper But it seems to me people rather die than survive and become stronger than they already were Tsk shame on them, shame on me It is sad that we are stuck in our old mentalities We rather put each other 6 feet underground than help one another climb a mountain Slavery may be over but now we are just binding ourselves in these rusty shackles that were left behind They're cutting through our skin, poisoning our blood, corrupting our minds, making us forget that we have come a long way That we are not where we once were They strain us, drain us of all of our energy Leaving us crawling on the floor searching for scrapes to put ourselves back together again I understand that we are not where we wish to be That we still have a long journey ahead of us That we are still marching forward like soldiers But it is not helping the fact that a brotha can go out and serve in the military for 13yrs and survive but come back home to his own street only to be shot in the head by his own partner Then we complain saying the white man is killing us Hell we are killing us **** black lives matter **** white lives matter **** all **** lives matter What we fail to realize that we are our own future Not them We control what we do We control where we go Not them But if we continue down this dark path we are heading down Well let me just say we won't have a future And again I say... I am my brother's keeper not his reaper But the way things are looking We will be our brother's reapers not their keepers
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Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau Panoramic imagery empiricist Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show Ontological somatalogy lyricist Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back *** Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Rootclod Rudiments
No matter what is expected or preconceived Remain determined Break through the chains of other's mentalities of what is to be You are more than yesterday's realities If you persevere there's no stopping your choices manipulating destiny A persons fate is not set in stone We grow beyond the mold of past perceptions Never allow another to lessen your ambitions Speak through velocity to prove undeniable ability to overcome and achieve The cost whatever it may be is worth the sacrifice to obtain your dreams
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Incontrovertible
Hand on the good book that I never read, I swore my loyalty though you know I like to fib, Even as your see the guilt gushing beneath my skin, I’ve been holding the prosecutor’s hand, with another on the switch, A spineless snitch waiting for the green light to fry you for what Benjamin did, So sorry this couldn’t have been different, But the chair only seats one according to our governance, And I’m not the victim with a scheme preached as providence So sorry for the inconvenience But I want to feel the pulse of the pompous cease, And watch the stillness of eyes that once blinked, When they found the oval throne of a tyrant Instead of the virtuous, The one who was to lead us, So who’s stopping me from strapping you to that seat? Since my crime caused the scene Since your fathers where the ones who put your sons to sleep Coming from the cranial cracks of the insane, Those that tried justified slavery while promising us all equality I am the reason they put price tags on humans And why this isn’t the land of the free I’m the governor forcing your loyalty Or I tell everyone you’re a traitor before finding you guilty, I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress, The thought process of social unrest, When the enemy was a homegrown threat, When Plymouth protest turned to disobedience, I was with the Protestant, I’m the crack in the Liberty Bell, The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel, The King, the colonial, the freedom fighter, the insurgent I’ve once facilitated your independence, I was your lust for a better existence Since the struggle against a parliament I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand, Since the election of the forty-third, I am the notion that this isn’t the promise land Like a revolutionary remedy I am the idealistic ****** The enemy of our mentalities The thought of defying the constraints this reality
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Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Ideolo-psycho (II)
Hand on the good book that I never read, I swore my loyalty though you know I like to fib, Even as your see the guilt gushing beneath my skin, I’ve been holding the prosecutor’s hand, with another on the switch, A spineless snitch waiting for the green light to fry you for what Benjamin did, So sorry this couldn’t have been different, But the chair only seats one according to our governance, And I’m not the victim with a scheme preached as providence So sorry for the inconvenience But I want to feel the pulse of the pompous cease, And watch the stillness of eyes that once blinked, When they found the oval throne of a tyrant Instead of the virtuous, The one who was to lead us, So who’s stopping me from strapping you to that seat? Since my crime caused the scene Since your fathers where the ones who put your sons to sleep Coming from the cranial cracks of the insane, Those that tried justified slavery while promising us all equality I am the reason they put price tags on humans And why this isn’t the land of the free I’m the governor forcing your loyalty Or I tell everyone you’re a traitor before finding you guilty, I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress, The thought process of social unrest, When the enemy was a homegrown threat, When Plymouth protest turned to disobedience, I was with the Protestant, I’m the crack in the Liberty Bell, The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel, The King, the colonial, the freedom fighter, the insurgent I’ve once facilitated your independence, I was your lust for a better existence Since the struggle against a parliament I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand, Since the election of the forty-third, I am the notion that this isn’t the promise land Like a revolutionary remedy I am the idealistic ****** The enemy of our mentalities The thought of defying the constraints this reality
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minds and mentalities corrupted and broken from the noxious words and infectious actions by the repercussion and influence of the people we once knew who's hardened brains perished and withered away who's guarded hearts mutilated and commutated who's perspective reciprocated and influenced predominantly by fallacious things how will we, when will we restore our youth? m.p.
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Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
corrupted
Am I in the right headspace? Do I travel the galaxies conjured by my thoughts just to end up in black holes? I’m seeking epiphanies You know, those elusive supernovas that defy even the eyes of gods I claim to be rich in spirit, yes Trying to measure my wealth with the hours I spend in the stratosphere above every worry that injects my bones with the weight of 2 Earths- the weight of a place that doesn’t want to ever wait Yet it must You can’t break a chrysalis and expect patterns on the wings You’ll get misshapen kaleidoscopes and fragmented isotopes beings who’ve never climbed but will die trying to ascend ropes Am I in the right headspace? Is my consciousness a constellation waiting to take form? What will be the shape? I’ll never be strong enough to resemble the buckle on Orion’s belt I’ll never be the mouth at the big dipper, drunk on the secrets of the cosmos I’d want to be the hands gripping Polaris sharing light for the planets who only see a moon rise Am I in the right headspace? Because I’ve fallen into nebulas, realms where humans stand on the heads of giants yet look no higher I’ve seen flawed ideologies that challenge monuments with their size I wonder what it’d take for us to realize that we could be immortals free from the finite mentalities that stunt our growth from the very roots.
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
Headspace
How do I stop these headaches... The pounding in the center as if my brain is being shaken out of place. The irritation that makes me pray to keep my blood pressure down because hypertension runs in my genetics. Constantly reacting, each error becomes a catalyst to a headache that makes me clench my teeth, claw my seat, wrinkle my brows. Instantaneously this frustration reoccurs. My mother and I alternate the burden. These headaches run through both our veins. Genetically annoyed. Venting to each other of how we don't think our bodies can handle anymore. Our bodies dying as our frustration lives happily and stress free. Just piling her burdens on us. Taking advantage of our need to get things done, advantage of our go getter mentalities. Aspirin after aspirin. They disappear so fast these days.
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
Headache
Would you say my words express possible realities Resulting in different mentalities ? Or Are they just written/verbal fallacies Resulting in abnormalities of letters and words hoping to avoid any literary casualties? How about both Sadly, here you can only read it, So you don't hear it, you just see it, but it's something I'd love for your ears to meet with Nothing really can compete With vocal manipulation of speech or how certain pronunciations can proceed Living through a zub-zero temperature year is what it took for me to be able to reel in my minds cable and see clear Avoiding a fatal crash I quickly grabbed the wheel to steer Away from hitting a metaphorical deer It's not a black cloud that hovers above me It's god and the devil playing rugby Every time I try to watch they just stare back and mean mug me Two opposing forces going head to head? More like a sorcerer and a sorceress sharing a bed How many times can a bee sting if it's already stung? None, it has a single stinger that's the only one After that, the songs been sung and that bees life is done... An answer to a question avoiding any deception just so you can understand the expression and find your own reflection -J.A.M
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
Questions To Be Answered -Or- Answers to Questioned
What is life without something bigger Are we at the top of the food chain Or just larger than life Or to obsessed with it These mentalities are exasperating Philosophically speaking We’ve barely scratched the surface Of what is called humanity Honestly
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Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Excuse Me, I'm Speaking
Mentalities that leak all over my everything.             Uncertainty has eroded my respect of self. Opportunities are disregarded. Ideas strewn across the room.             A dose of lies so potent            It deteriorates my motives, and beliefs. Struggling to resist the voice inside that started as a whisper; a slight breeze in a self made hell.            I spoke too soon, yet I haven't said a thing. A silence so aesthetic it takes me to the edge Where I am vulnerable to only that which is true.           My demons hide behind mirrors,           And haunt the corridors of my thoughts. Their surreptitious plans demand All of me. I am placed in their pockets, and am considered the favor upon which they believe they deserve.                Pirating my spirit, Robbing my composure,              They only desire my emotions. For if they acquire My happiness, they know, My happiness is the only thing that can save me from my dues, my debts. 
 This very reason, is why I fight, 
 This very reason, is why I shall never surrender,             Even if I am left with nothing.
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Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 1:32 AM UTC
Emotional Debt
I was made to believe I could always improve. Of course I assumed that meant others could, too. Because why would we want to remain stagnant? We live each day like fragments we hope will attract like magnets And piece into the picture-perfect paradox we call life. We are driven by this horribly humane curiosity Accelerating to increasing velocities, Until we inhibit our ability to realize when enough is enough Lost in the instilled thoughts that manipulate our emotions with their bluff, That we should never settle. But never say never. As cliches turn into ever-present moments, We learn that striving is only a component of who we are. Because if we keep chasing a limit that keeps rising We’re only chastising a perfectly acceptable being. Like a cigarette pressed against wrinkled lips, This vague mantra is a hidden temporary fix. One that ignites so easily and makes sense to the brain But never quite knows when to seize it’s reign. Because no parent has ever told their child when to stop trying. We fall under control of our own mentalities trying to push us further. But when can we put the pressure on the back burner? And try to accept who we are Before we accidentally discard A perfectly adequate being. Sometimes a friendly reminder to advance is taken out of hand. But my hands have been fidgeting with rings until I brand their bands with indents. Ones that burn through my skin and leave the memories of closed fists. The fear of loving where we are or who we’re with should not exist. For when you’ve exhausted all your happiness and have wilted to your last petal, I will be flourishing still, for I have learned to settle.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
Never Settle
I was made to believe I could always improve. Of course I assumed that meant others could, too. Because why would we want to remain stagnant? We live each day like fragments we hope will attract like magnets And piece into the picture-perfect paradox we call life. We are driven by this horribly humane curiosity Accelerating to increasing velocities, Until we inhibit our ability to realize when enough is enough Lost in the instilled thoughts that manipulate our emotions with their bluff, That we should never settle. But never say never. As cliches turn into ever-present moments, We learn that striving is only a component of who we are. Because if we keep chasing a limit that keeps rising We’re only chastising a perfectly acceptable being. Like a cigarette pressed against wrinkled lips, This vague mantra is a hidden temporary fix. One that ignites so easily and makes sense to the brain But never quite knows when to seize it’s reign. Because no parent has ever told their child when to stop trying. We fall under control of our own mentalities trying to push us further. But when can we put the pressure on the back burner? And try to accept who we are Before we accidentally discard A perfectly adequate being. Sometimes a friendly reminder to advance is taken out of hand. But my hands have been fidgeting with rings until I brand their bands with indents. Ones that burn through my skin and leave the memories of closed fists. The fear of loving where we are or who we’re with should not exist. For when you’ve exhausted all your happiness and have wilted to your last petal, I will be flourishing still, for I have learned to settle.
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I have information channeling in from the past through my DNA i am an open portal to receive the teachings of ancient tantric left hand paths , my mother accepted her teaching from an aged midwife with no daughter , she taught her the power of intuition and the secret ways to move between realms without being detected And this teaching is so secret that only now do i see the lessons, She wove them into games we played and how she dressed herself , held herself I run quickly with the tumbling lessons falling out of pasts giant lips painted in the sunset sky , i can read the clouds for messages , they never fail , the moon too sends her cool wisdom i can read people quickly and see through to their highest self , but it takes energy so i must cultivate myself i am a garden and flowers burst through my skin and out from behind my eyes wild roses grow , to fall into the pit of my stomach and be burnt by the roaring sun inside after a while the alchemical process subsides and i distill the free magic scent from which i add a whiff or two to my wrists before i leave home , this is a protection shield of the highest order take heed if these words talk to your soul , because then you will know i have a message to deliver The collision of two planes will destroy both ( metaphysically) giving rise to a merged existence that holds qualities of each parent, yet, totally new aspects from our current mentalities , thus the cycle can only be compleated when we are ready , each one will find their own turn and preahps a path they would do well to learn is the path of the soul , mind and body The collapse of ridged belief systems and debt binders ( physically) will mark the border lines , the doldrums where the weak are prayed upon like a pastor dishing out blessings to the congregation And my friend , in amongst the mess there will be those who would do well to lead you astray , hold fast , as long as you know your own heart the ripples will only fuel you instead of decay We are speeding up to convergence , can you feel it?
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
Solar Cultivations in the Jungle of the Mind
I have information channeling in from the past through my DNA i am an open portal to receive the teachings of ancient tantric left hand paths , my mother accepted her teaching from an aged midwife with no daughter , she taught her the power of intuition and the secret ways to move between realms without being detected And this teaching is so secret that only now do i see the lessons, She wove them into games we played and how she dressed herself , held herself I run quickly with the tumbling lessons falling out of pasts giant lips painted in the sunset sky , i can read the clouds for messages , they never fail , the moon too sends her cool wisdom i can read people quickly and see through to their highest self , but it takes energy so i must cultivate myself i am a garden and flowers burst through my skin and out from behind my eyes wild roses grow , to fall into the pit of my stomach and be burnt by the roaring sun inside after a while the alchemical process subsides and i distill the free magic scent from which i add a whiff or two to my wrists before i leave home , this is a protection shield of the highest order take heed if these words talk to your soul , because then you will know i have a message to deliver The collision of two planes will destroy both ( metaphysically) giving rise to a merged existence that holds qualities of each parent, yet, totally new aspects from our current mentalities , thus the cycle can only be compleated when we are ready , each one will find their own turn and preahps a path they would do well to learn is the path of the soul , mind and body The collapse of ridged belief systems and debt binders ( physically) will mark the border lines , the doldrums where the weak are prayed upon like a pastor dishing out blessings to the congregation And my friend , in amongst the mess there will be those who would do well to lead you astray , hold fast , as long as you know your own heart the ripples will only fuel you instead of decay We are speeding up to convergence , can you feel it?
Continue reading...
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Part One A American Madman's Farwell I was fried from the scene in LA the lights the fake women with the perfect smiles and quick to jump in bed mentalities that if thinking you were a casting director were all to eager to sell there souls . The were twisted insane drug addicts maybe that's why I had grown to feel at home amongst them and there demented ways. I had grown numb to the excess the high quality drugs and all night binges . My mornings were like rising from the dead more agony than pleasure I found even now to arise from the crypt it took far more than a stiff drink and a good **** I had to dam near summon a voodoo priestess to bring me back to the living good thing even the masters of the occult all desired to be famous and were already here . Everyone was after the fast track that quick fix and I was just after yet another story. I was just another snake in the garden all to eager to take advantage of the first opportunity to strike the innocent then leave them with a expensive habit and some cab fair in the morning . I sat there as I do now ice in glass bottle on the table frustrated in need of something more one last adventure was on the horizon . And my sights were set on the land down under . Were the heat and mystery surrounded my thoughts where the page could breathe and my thoughts could take flight one last time . I sat there a addict in need of another fix one that only a finally dose of adrenaline and adventure could curb my desires . My choice was made long before my bags were packed. and few lines and some stiff drinks were all I desired to see this road to its end . I paid my bill packed my **** and was ready to be lost . L.A. was a mistake always willing to happen and a new Atlantis destined to be at the bottom of the sea . I was buckled in and blown out of my mind as the 747 blasted from tarmac bound for escape pointed towards the sky . I was higher than Jesus and bound for a story that would be far beyond the depths of my own madness . Sir would you like a drink ? The stewardess asked me when we were stable within the clouds. You can fill in the blank when it comes to my reply . Just make sure it's a double . Please fasten your belts ladies and gentlemen the madness will begin shortly .
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 3:14 PM UTC
The Great Depature Gonzo
Part One A American Madman's Farwell I was fried from the scene in LA the lights the fake women with the perfect smiles and quick to jump in bed mentalities that if thinking you were a casting director were all to eager to sell there souls . The were twisted insane drug addicts maybe that's why I had grown to feel at home amongst them and there demented ways. I had grown numb to the excess the high quality drugs and all night binges . My mornings were like rising from the dead more agony than pleasure I found even now to arise from the crypt it took far more than a stiff drink and a good **** I had to dam near summon a voodoo priestess to bring me back to the living good thing even the masters of the occult all desired to be famous and were already here . Everyone was after the fast track that quick fix and I was just after yet another story. I was just another snake in the garden all to eager to take advantage of the first opportunity to strike the innocent then leave them with a expensive habit and some cab fair in the morning . I sat there as I do now ice in glass bottle on the table frustrated in need of something more one last adventure was on the horizon . And my sights were set on the land down under . Were the heat and mystery surrounded my thoughts where the page could breathe and my thoughts could take flight one last time . I sat there a addict in need of another fix one that only a finally dose of adrenaline and adventure could curb my desires . My choice was made long before my bags were packed. and few lines and some stiff drinks were all I desired to see this road to its end . I paid my bill packed my **** and was ready to be lost . L.A. was a mistake always willing to happen and a new Atlantis destined to be at the bottom of the sea . I was buckled in and blown out of my mind as the 747 blasted from tarmac bound for escape pointed towards the sky . I was higher than Jesus and bound for a story that would be far beyond the depths of my own madness . Sir would you like a drink ? The stewardess asked me when we were stable within the clouds. You can fill in the blank when it comes to my reply . Just make sure it's a double . Please fasten your belts ladies and gentlemen the madness will begin shortly .
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Abiding in tidy quarters In which space I will confine But my life is full of hoarders, Pack things rashly in my mind Some more obvious, some more subtle Seems likely I'll never See through the rubble. Rational thought can be transferred Transplaced Deterred Through the nostalgia of a *** once stirred Finding divets of respect For those who expect me To level at their self inflicted debt Is beyond words that come to be Break the dams down of succession Find my daily dosed oppression Is within the people I reside I can't run, cause they know where I hide. Move with me; I've moved with you Contorted into mentalities by body couldn't do Just to watch you stay untrue I can't reflex anymore, I'm deadened to your dramatic lores. Done waiting for the progress For reciprocation past due Cause I'm waiting to wane this fever, And the antidote's not you.
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Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Puppeted
How many ways can humans prove each other wrong? Let me skim the Library of “i know and i know” i can blow you kisses or punch your face, call you a loser or get you drunk with lips that pour sweet nothings. Sugary or bitter, with noise or dead silence, “your wrong” is the song to be sung. In a castle of pride locked and tortured by criticism, even a friend can turn foe in the realm of ‘i know, i know” But who can ever let go of the self-sacrificial blade that bloodies the soul into the sweetness of unseen pride? OOO our language is tainted with poisoned lips that drip gross mentalities of perfection on earth, something’s killing me in this world of ”i know” So here i go, eating bread crumbs that lead me back to where my heart once was and in that darkness so dank with tears, i found what i really KNOW…..NOTHINGGGGGGGG
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
Poison Lips One Kiss
I'm there for those with knives in their backs For those with hearts that are chipped and cracked With deteriorating mentalities And crumbling realities I'll be your friend To the bitter end Your secret lover Your blood brother I come from the darkest depths Defile life and defy death Faster than the eye can see Slave to adrenaline but yet, I'm free Call me if you need me But only if you need me I'm the one your parents warned you of The one you love to hate and hate to love A thief, a cheat with all the connections You look at me and cry because I'm your beautiful reflection I assure you everything is fine I tell you, we're all born to die Addiction and suppression Conviction and depression I am no one I come from nowhere I come from nothing Unless you have something to give No one is going to care This hurts you more than it does me I'm the ******* child Always in the wrong, am I right? I'm the best at being the worst Don't pay me any mind Unless you wanna take this outside That's where I am And that's where you'll be safe It's almost too good to be true Because it is
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Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
The Oratorio of The Nefarious Martyr
In a wordy battle with trivial dogmatic mentalities , I win by sandwiching my perspectives between my upper lip tubercle and lower lip tubercle.
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Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 7:37 PM UTC
Untitled ( 28 )
Our personalities may not be in line Our lives may not be in line If our genes are in line, thats bloodline Our mentalities may not be in line Our emotions may not be in line If our genes are in line, thats bloodline Bloodshed is forbiden in the bloodline Blood-shared is the foundation in the bloodline Dishonesty breaks the bloodline Unity builds the bloodline Generations are the history of the bloodline Generations are the future of the bloodline Kindness flows veinous like a grape-vine When love is core, the bloodline is devine Jealousy brings divide Truth makes bloodline concrete Genes are the roots of the bloodline Actions are the stem of the bloodline Acknowledgement of the bloodline means you're not alone If our genes are in line, thats bloodline
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Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 11:23 AM UTC
bloodline
High school is an old-new path With much along the way It is old sweatshirts And worn-out earphones And old mentalities swayed It is headaches in math And old white sneakers And love without a doubt Goodbyes called Hellos sang From a whisper to a shout
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
High School
Our mentalities are separate, cautious. We are of simple minds, of hardened hearts, not yet ready to believe in each other— in ourselves. And above, a black midnight Reflected brilliantly upon the water; a pool of ink. The stars, dusted across the darkness. We lunge, we dive, into blackened pools of adrenaline and nighttime. The transformation hits us like a wrecking ball; like a wrecking ball, numbness flows into us, creeps unto us as we stand, together, the ink falling from our shoulders and skins; from our judgments. Our reflections are changed, perhaps irrevocably. And then the heat; the heat. A warm caress on our quivering skin, a welcome silence to our chattering mouths, now hushed, tired. The taste of iodine, of laughter, coats our dry, sticky lips as we mute. Our senses, now acute. The sizzle and snap of hot steam, cold breaths. We taste, smell and now— feel the sage, warming us. And suddenly, out of the darkness, I can imagine. As if in a sunlit afternoon, hot and humid. Birds wings flash above brightly; they flutter lightly, carefully extended, beneath a robin’s-egg blue. In the dark without a moon, as our impurities and vanity melt and collect at our dirt-covered fingertips, we all extend our wings. We all extend our wings and fly. Trust the air. Feel the sky. We are connected, as if on a single wind. Infinitely strong, yet perhaps unseen. Our skins are softened as we leave, the breath of a story still on our ears. We breathe deeply a perfume-less air. We flash our wings, now extended fully without reserve For all to see.
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Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 11:32 PM UTC
In the Dark without a Moon
Our mentalities are separate, cautious. We are of simple minds, of hardened hearts, not yet ready to believe in each other— in ourselves. And above, a black midnight Reflected brilliantly upon the water; a pool of ink. The stars, dusted across the darkness. We lunge, we dive, into blackened pools of adrenaline and nighttime. The transformation hits us like a wrecking ball; like a wrecking ball, numbness flows into us, creeps unto us as we stand, together, the ink falling from our shoulders and skins; from our judgments. Our reflections are changed, perhaps irrevocably. And then the heat; the heat. A warm caress on our quivering skin, a welcome silence to our chattering mouths, now hushed, tired. The taste of iodine, of laughter, coats our dry, sticky lips as we mute. Our senses, now acute. The sizzle and snap of hot steam, cold breaths. We taste, smell and now— feel the sage, warming us. And suddenly, out of the darkness, I can imagine. As if in a sunlit afternoon, hot and humid. Birds wings flash above brightly; they flutter lightly, carefully extended, beneath a robin’s-egg blue. In the dark without a moon, as our impurities and vanity melt and collect at our dirt-covered fingertips, we all extend our wings. We all extend our wings and fly. Trust the air. Feel the sky. We are connected, as if on a single wind. Infinitely strong, yet perhaps unseen. Our skins are softened as we leave, the breath of a story still on our ears. We breathe deeply a perfume-less air. We flash our wings, now extended fully without reserve For all to see.
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