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"mesmerism" poems
If you grasp tight to your                          individualism, Give in to all the                       romanticism, Rid of any          materialism, Confide within                    professionalism, Drop all acts of                     favoritism, Eject from any              vulgarism, Open up to            socialism, Advocate          activism, Realize you are an                           organism, Forget about any                      perfectionism, And explore inside                          transcendentalism, You will look up into complete mesmerism of how all the stars are symbolism for the billion versions of creationism that you've ever lived, and will live.
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Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 8:57 PM UTC
Untitled
~ *Tonight I will Surrender To your mesmerism Sailing further Into the deep blue light Of your wide open iris And enter the blink* ~
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Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 12:42 PM UTC
Indigo Eyes
He’s trick, like enrapturing Wherein lies the paradox of his pantheism parapet’s paragon Extraversion embezzlements and euthanasia extortions Diction’s enunciation echoes of opaque opulence Its redolence a savory waft The evolution of psychic clarity’s élan vital Bizarre dichotomous augur the singer’s aural austerity Gypsy Queen, his guitar’s moniker, romanced aimed intention Elaborate elliptical empathy endeavors for posterity’s predication Pandemically  phatic  propriety venerations Their apex crux axis beyond finite solution Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix The individual must remain sacrosanct Traipsing through the fallow furrows of assimilation’s xenobiotic barratry Like capillaries' capricious and intravenous intrepid Incalculably sensual beyond emotion’s expression Impetus intrigue's intuitional verve Ethology’s entelechy, theosophy’s theophany Zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities Futurity's corporeally preternatural fatidic
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Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Salacious mesmerism's endemic impromptu
He’s trick, like enrapturing Wherein lies the paradox of his pantheism parapet’s paragon Extraversion embezzlements and euthanasia extortions Embark embargo extraditions Diction’s enunciation echoes of opaque opulence Its redolence a savory waft The evolution of psychic clarity’s id conclusions Bizarre dichotomous augur the singer’s aural austerity Gypsy Queen, his guitar’s moniker, romanced aimed intention Elaborate elliptical empathy endeavors for posterity’s predication Pandemically  phatic  propriety venerations Their apex crux axis beyond finite solution Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix's vertex vortex The individual must remain sacrosanct Traipsing through the fallow furrows of assimilation’s synthetic synthesis Like capillaries' capricious and intravenous intrepid Incalculably sensual beyond emotion’s expression Impetus intrigue's intuitional verve Ethology’s entelechy, theosophy’s theophany Zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities Futurity's corporeally preternatural fatidic Elan-vital's apotropaic apotheosis
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Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
Salacious mesmerism's endemic impromptu (reworked)
Tide's pulsation in conflux with moon hosts a nexus Rendezvous my waters at an hour dark Beams lunar reflection is passing Earth's other side My pull is greater than temptation It is mesmerism A magnetic locking of the organic elemental Your push My pull Our plasmic toll
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Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
Chiming Peal
The only book teaching humanism; The only which cures locoism; One and only poem for lyricism Is Reader’s Digest’s mechanism. If you see it through any prism Can find joy, fun, thrill and sarcasm This is a weak agent of nihilism; This is the best known idealism Where all spend individualism To receive mental masochism. Reading it is just like mesmerism. Without it school suffers gargoylism. Indian tradition or let be Maoism, It is well read and accepted optimism.
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Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
On Reader’s Digest - 2
“Amorous is this anguish novel of the woes of fervor, It is not greatness I see within myself but that of others, Touching skin hedonistic for our lingering infatuation, All these interlude cataclysm of such a bereavement, Beyond this place of wrath destruction and tears of woe, Looms the horror fronds of pain as gesture abhorrence, Pleasures awaited amour claimed lost rapacious desires, These days have ebbed as Love's swell was checked, Could earth be sequestered in some obscure place? Let your shadow lengthen the horologe in the meadows, I am besieged by the enlightening celestial naiad beauty, This was possibly the most euphoric point of my life, She the begin of a light that was once my beguiled penumbra, Her skin seems to have the deluded eyes always my eternal allure, Mesmerism is what you are when in front of me my allure, I can feel your soft hands and the tender lips upon mine, Lonely nights without you as my dreams have surrounded you, Dreams surround I can see and touch your face long embrace, The contour ambiance of her body withering serpent is penumbra” By Andrew Guzaldo 03/15/2019 ©
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Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
“BEGUILED PENUMBRA”
He’s trick, like enrapturing Wherein lies the paradox of his pantheism parapet’s paragon Extraversion embezzlements and euthanasia extortions Embark embargo extraditions Diction’s enunciation echoes of opaque opulence Its redolence a savory waft The evolution of psychic clarity’s id conclusions Bizarre dichotomous augur the singer’s aural austerity Gypsy Queen, his guitar’s moniker, romanced aimed intention Elaborate elliptical empathy endeavors for posterity’s predication Pandemically  phatic  propriety venerations Their apex crux axis beyond finite solution Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix's vertex vortex The individual must remain sacrosanct Traipsing through the fallow furrows of assimilation’s synthetic synthesis Like capillaries' capricious and intravenous intrepid Incalculably sensual beyond emotion’s expression Impetus intrigue's intuitional verve Ethology’s entelechy, theosophy’s theophany Zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities Futurity's corporeally preternatural fatidic Elan-vital's apotropaic apotheosis
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Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 7:50 PM UTC
Salacious Mesmerism's Endemic Impromptu! (re-worked)
da Vinci convinced me that art was the key and imagery in its many disguises could unlock many a door, after all, what would this life be without the mesmerism of artistry, I for one want some more. Paint me vermillion, mineral rich, daub me a sea from deep blue, put me in a picture to hang on the wall, immortality, after all, that is all that I need. And what of Academia, blood racing bulimia, burning the late evening oil? Exactly what of it. I'll stick with da Vinci, because in the Codex I see much more than a cartoon of me.
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
The sitter
Sitting alone in the darkness of my room, I allow my mind to wonder. But the only thing that seems to show is the image of you, and I can’t help but become lost in the abyss of intentional mesmerism that is cast upon me when I synchronize my thoughts and emotion. Skin the color of ginger Pricked with pepper-styled specs of acne that give her a signature stimulation in my mind. To inhale her close proximity is to inhale the scent of cinnamon and honey layered thick on the warm releasing heat of candles dripping wax tears to stone floors as they gaze at her perfection. Oh how lost I get in her presence. She arises in me a need to capture her humility and turn it into a self-worth compatible with royalty. She arises in me a need to hark her easy listening and sway her into the darkened end of deserted dance floors I envision in my mind. I am besotted by her unintentional euphony. Her hypnotism is so strong that I find myself mentally caressing her smiling cheeks as we stare into each other’s souls, glasses fogged from each breath but eyes locking as seriousness takes over us. I press her close and lean in smoothly, one hand clutching hers and the other flicking her hair back ever so slightly away from her lips so that her lips are freed for mine. I have visions of a forged passion ensuing each moment I see her. I have thoughts of the harmonious waves of sound flowing from her strawberry red lips. Is it wrong to crave the innocence I think she has? Is it sad that I imagine her better than my body can relay images to my brain and that I have fallen in love so often with my own interpretation that I don’t speak lest she destroy the wish I have for her attention? My honey sweet wannabe lover with the body of warmth and the smile of heaven. She is my one true fantasy that I could never do justice. She is the only image of perfection I see nowadays, the only image of contentment worthy of being synonymous with the word, she is the world that I want and the culture I shall adapt to please. She is my crush. And I am intimidated by the power that I’ve given her. She is My-Wish
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Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
My Wish
Sitting alone in the darkness of my room, I allow my mind to wonder. But the only thing that seems to show is the image of you, and I can’t help but become lost in the abyss of intentional mesmerism that is cast upon me when I synchronize my thoughts and emotion. Skin the color of ginger Pricked with pepper-styled specs of acne that give her a signature stimulation in my mind. To inhale her close proximity is to inhale the scent of cinnamon and honey layered thick on the warm releasing heat of candles dripping wax tears to stone floors as they gaze at her perfection. Oh how lost I get in her presence. She arises in me a need to capture her humility and turn it into a self-worth compatible with royalty. She arises in me a need to hark her easy listening and sway her into the darkened end of deserted dance floors I envision in my mind. I am besotted by her unintentional euphony. Her hypnotism is so strong that I find myself mentally caressing her smiling cheeks as we stare into each other’s souls, glasses fogged from each breath but eyes locking as seriousness takes over us. I press her close and lean in smoothly, one hand clutching hers and the other flicking her hair back ever so slightly away from her lips so that her lips are freed for mine. I have visions of a forged passion ensuing each moment I see her. I have thoughts of the harmonious waves of sound flowing from her strawberry red lips. Is it wrong to crave the innocence I think she has? Is it sad that I imagine her better than my body can relay images to my brain and that I have fallen in love so often with my own interpretation that I don’t speak lest she destroy the wish I have for her attention? My honey sweet wannabe lover with the body of warmth and the smile of heaven. She is my one true fantasy that I could never do justice. She is the only image of perfection I see nowadays, the only image of contentment worthy of being synonymous with the word, she is the world that I want and the culture I shall adapt to please. She is my crush. And I am intimidated by the power that I’ve given her. She is My-Wish
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15
You leave me in a flutter, Butterflies run rampant in my stomach. This state of ascension, Just by the mere presence of your attention. These conversations leave me afloat. Adrift on an ocean of thought, Where nothing real feels of note, And reality means naught. This moment of mesmerism, Holding my heart, my mind, my soul. And I'll replay my actions Like the motions of a mechanism. Falling into the same state, Feeling as is if it's butterflies I've ate.
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Butterflies
Contingency - The Medic’s Mesmerism Their fed up, they laugh that I am fed up 2AM in the morning, radio call alert While I’m naked, lying in dirt or in some other disapproving fashion How many times has this a happened? The strikes to the face, cuts on the skin, The assault of non registered injections. The psyche’s medical degree after learning the curriculum Over 20000 grand spent, and labelling with invented illnesses Stuck in the middle, the human research subject, Used as much as the 5 plus years qualified Dr We have something common……. Ridiculed, albeit not by the same group, but again, made fun of I have no recollection of being outside, I have no clothes on I didn’t see the person who punched me, but I must of opened the door They cannot complete their orders, WHY! The Medic’s Mesmerism Has been going on so long now, this was not in the curriculum Some might even say, training as a crime fighter, this is not in my handbook But the patient ——— Oblivious, slowly catching up Patient zero. Trapped! For now by the contingency — the medic’s mesmerism 15 Feb 2022 By Raul M Murray
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Feb 15, 2022
Feb 15, 2022 at 6:28 AM UTC
Contingency - The Medic’s Mesmerism