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"metastasize" poems
there is no value in a poem that reads ____________________ ____________________ ____________________ M M l i f e s u c k s x x x n o p o e m i g o t just nerve; crap bs, a denial of craft seek the intelligent intelligible, kiss the sensational thrill that emotion harvests with resonating tenses that beg our brains to differ, sense this claims, there is no value in no words is a hoax cloaked as art by the weak, make thy metaphors metastasize, my every cell, a preposition, preposterous and precious and comforting in their privations and provocations speak to us in alpha and line our eyes wide, with pictures at an exhibition of a faun immobile and beauteous let me hang on every word of yours and let it be the raft that sees me happily unsafe home take your bs line poem   shove it down your silent voice this is not avant garde; this is insulting p.s.  write me a smile and all will be_______________.
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
**** the BS: this craft is the raft we hang onto
insidious... the forces that bend us toward self-destruction insidious... the illusions that feed those malevolent forces insidious... the stories that construct those obscuring illusions insidious... the thoughts that metastasize into those deluding stories insidious... the mind that identifies with those detrimental thoughts innocent... the soul that succumbs
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
Insidious
what are you doing spreading rumors when you know they metastasize like tumors and that it'd get back to me eventually maybe you aren't honest-not completely we aren't broken up, you ***** even though it's what you want, you don't get your wish you think you're the victim-he broke your heart but honey he was mine from the start he liked me first, second, and last and maybe you were just his one and a half i can't stop you from seeing him that would make me a hypocrite but keep your sickly sweet words to yourself or better yet save them for someone else
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
i didn't know he and i broke up?
Inside her head lived a dark cloud That dampened all her thoughts And roared with thunder storms so loud The lightning like gunshots The cloud got bigger all the time With the turmoil that it stored It got so big, it made her rhyme But when it rained, it poured She rained, and rained, and rained, and drowned She rained until she dried But no one ever heard a sound She stuffed it back inside She sometimes felt she got it out And could almost see the sun But just because she had a drought Didn't mean that she had won She kept a little residue To metastasize again That's why she always feels so blue Why melancholy is her friend
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
Cloudy Skies, Rainy Eyes
Tile floors. Blood in the creases. Plywood boards. Arterial releases I nail you to the ground, This soul in you. Phantom ghost of specter. I will never leave you. I will eat what you **** And be your skin. Parasitic symbiote of prosthetics, Entangled by bailing wire to every bone, Our union refines combine tarsals. I am you like the liquor, Like Jesus' nails. We rob stores, Skip stones, In the alley. Mirror eyes mark your stretch marks. Deep scratches of size. Your iris is mine. Becoming you is my charge. In your innards I gorge. Metastasize. I want to feast on your skin. Eat your flesh till your thin. In the raw. Exploit all your **** I want to haunt your house and lick your thighs when you sleep. Press through your skin. Bend it out with my lips. This last invasion will curse you for life. I'm a cancer forever. Hiding in your basement.
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Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
The Worms to the Core
**Darkness metastasize the moon no longer bright memories  floated a dream buried.**
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
EnD
By: Cedric McClester I know what it is we saw On the streets of Baltimore Everything we should abhor Burning, looting and much more As our history has shown Once contentious seed are sown Violence that we can’t condone Begins when the first stone is thrown Once we loose the savage beast And opportunists start to fleece Their local businesses decrease And there’s no justice or no peace Deprivation is the aftermath Once people choose a violent path For some it’s fun and so they laugh But they don’t know much about math Whole communities disappear As rioters stand around and cheer Once the smoke has a chance to clear We find it’s worst than we had feared What began as an expression of pain Rapidly denigrated before it changed Which often happens when police are estranged From communities they police when there’s no exchange Violence never is the answer Cos it can metastasize like a cancer It never was an agenda advancer Nor a valid argument enhancer So let’s not try to pretend That there can be any other end Nor a position that we can defend Can I surmise we comprehend? (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
STREETS OF BALTIMORE
My chest is a cage Constricting Concealing Holding back And keeping away A place where I hide From my deepest of fears But this prison Is where my fears are held Tucked away In a Not-so-safe hiding place Because it is all too easy For me to reach inside And ponder them Until they Grow Expand Metastasize To the point where they consume My chest My shoulders My arms My fingers Through my legs Into my toes Until these fears finally fall Down Down Down Into the pit of my stomach Where they stay Until in the dark of the morning When I can finally throw them out Through way of mouth In fits of Coughs and Words Of the unflowered kind Because what I am spitting out Is of the unflowered kind And yet there are survivors Who dangle And play Amongst my heartstrings And the air in my chest Until another Bad Day When they can consume my head And constrict my chest With the overbearing weight Of Everything
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
Anxiety
Ten, He casts his eyes down quickly, but not before you catch the soft liquid-gold turn to solid ice. Nine, Taste the bitter apology on your quivering lip. Bite down. Let it bleed. Just don't let him see you fall apart. Eight, Pick up a book and feign indifference, while he does the same. Do not cry. Do not speak. Do not let him see how much he is hurting you. Seven, glance up at him, and try to catch his eye. Wonder for the hundredth time what you did wrong. Six, Hang up When you begin to dig your nails into the flesh of your hands. Find the old orange lighter you save for birthday candles. Let the flames lick across your skin in brilliant color. Anything to stay warm. Five, Count the seconds by the chattering of your teeth. Wrap your frail arms around your trembling torso. Four, Stare back at the tear-streaked face in the mirror. Hypnotized by blood shot eyes and scorched veins. Three, Grip the dull blade, in your mangled hand. Paint poetry in scarlet ink. Between pieces of broken skin. Two, Squirm at the discomfort of lacerated wrists. Feel the hatred metastasize, for every place he looked at you in disgust. One, Remember the time you told him you hate the cold.
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Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
Cold Shoulder
_ songs hurt _ emotions flood my brain I can't handle it I used to not feel this way songs used to lift my soul _ but songs hurt _ emotions claw at my brain I can't do it anymore I don't know when it happened songs used to bring peace _ but songs hurt _ emotions metastasize like cancer I can't even bear to think of it I don't know how this happened songs used to give me life _ but songs hurt _ and I can listen to them no longer
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 11:40 PM UTC
Songs hurt
Its just me and you and everything in front of us, or behind especially if gravity operates like chemicals. Let's go exploring, if you'd like, or sit like lumps and metastasize on chocolates. The stage, the fame, the beer, the strife, All the things we wanted don't matter in that wonderful white space ahead. This hill can trail off to the worlds we'll create, so utterly shapeless – impossibly white – yet filled with color and sound and romp. The airplane we rode, just the first or last few frames of the film (you should start wherever you want) it had the new world in its sights to open up the stodgy filth and land us tumbling into the great unknown. We walk ill-prepared, like our fathers, only so far as what they know. A harsh word. These legs will take me to Tøyengata or Nieve or Las Ramblas and that street to the river to the train or the bus to a frozen tube of horrifying humanity to land on familiar runways in New York or Albuquerque catch you in your mother's Civic and bound away. Where we'll speak – concisely. That's where intimacy lies: in codes and twitches, and very little soft sweet words; and, the more we love the less we say, 'cept to remind each other we're ready to go cartograph again. Then speak endlessly, drunk in each other's words, and move brazenly, tromp the neigh-sayers and know-it-alls, stumble our way across frail little ropes, sprint through orchards to catch smoke. Through the door, into bed. past the last frame. past that sweet little line – to let this placid chaos slide down the hill and trail off into madness. I'll be waiting by the sleds. You know what to do.
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Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
#3
Its just me and you and everything in front of us, or behind especially if gravity operates like chemicals. Let's go exploring, if you'd like, or sit like lumps and metastasize on chocolates. The stage, the fame, the beer, the strife, All the things we wanted don't matter in that wonderful white space ahead. This hill can trail off to the worlds we'll create, so utterly shapeless – impossibly white – yet filled with color and sound and romp. The airplane we rode, just the first or last few frames of the film (you should start wherever you want) it had the new world in its sights to open up the stodgy filth and land us tumbling into the great unknown. We walk ill-prepared, like our fathers, only so far as what they know. A harsh word. These legs will take me to Tøyengata or Nieve or Las Ramblas and that street to the river to the train or the bus to a frozen tube of horrifying humanity to land on familiar runways in New York or Albuquerque catch you in your mother's Civic and bound away. Where we'll speak – concisely. That's where intimacy lies: in codes and twitches, and very little soft sweet words; and, the more we love the less we say, 'cept to remind each other we're ready to go cartograph again. Then speak endlessly, drunk in each other's words, and move brazenly, tromp the neigh-sayers and know-it-alls, stumble our way across frail little ropes, sprint through orchards to catch smoke. Through the door, into bed. past the last frame. past that sweet little line – to let this placid chaos slide down the hill and trail off into madness. I'll be waiting by the sleds. You know what to do.
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40
Liquify, Modernize, Affix, Me. Dicast parts, Formalize, Metastasize. I am Growing this agar's too small. Feral, Lycanthropy, Hearts. Through the stigma, my bones bleed, my wreaths hanging, Sagging. Of unwelcome, all my being. of unwelcome, all my being. The Truth of getting older, the senescence of emotion The people we love and once were, Are gone forever. I am not for this heartless place. I am but Peter Pan, understanding. A bitter struggle, While trampled underfoot. Of a world, Not built for us. Built for no one.
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Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 11:22 PM UTC
Lycanthropic Sepsis
energy flows from a chemical intervention so many involuntary tasks ticked off an unscrawled list plans metastasize. there may be a cure in searching for sun on a morning in winter parrots scratch for seed on the lawn their flock depleted, somewhere there hibernating for a change of season freezing sleet & faded wings fear stretches its tentacles into dark corners where indistinct features collect dreams on a frosted night. episode one is about an artist famous and almost encountered doubts clouding over & stifling shoots where shutters click and the whir of pixels freezes a moment not to be captured an orange pill, again each night stuck in the throat then another gulp waves break on a ragged coast the words in a book begin to blur a story moves on, fading letters the stars paint a glittering sky & moon hangs low under mountain pines gradually the volume fades a paper chain & pictures start to haunt again
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Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Mirtazapine
For too many years I’ve been an unwilling host To an invader inside my head A parasite See, the thing about a parasite? It’s magnificent at hiding It starts out small, undetectable Worming its way inside your body, your mind But this microscopic monster starts to feed off you Eating away your existence from the inside out Tearing through your flesh with its piercing teeth Flooding your brain with searing poison It releases its young to metastasize the damage By the time you have an inkling of the war raging inside This army has grown by hundreds, thousands And they have nuked the battleground, leaving nothing behind. My parasite may be called depression but it works just the same Starting off in the shadows Silently entering your mind Feeding off your suffering Injecting you with its lies “You are worthless” “You’re a burden” “You don’t belong on this earth” These lies grow in numbers, destroying every inch of happiness Until you see the lies as truth in your corrupted lens You are filled with an unwavering dread Crippled by an interminable loneliness And you are at the mercy of this ruthless being Then you go days without sleeping Days without feeling Arms covered in red slashes to at least feel something The world starts spinning faster, but you’re still stuck in slow motion You want someone to hear your silent screams But your presence has become microscopic, invisible And how do you put into words what even you can’t understand? So the darkness consumes you until you’re nothing but an empty shell A ghost of a human being Going through the motions of life while no longer living And all you plead for is the pain to cease So you drown in a sea of pills and pray it’s enough to send you into eternal slumber. I may have raised the white flag on my battle But I was saved before my soul could flee this earth And I am grateful for each breath I still take But this war is far from over My parasite may have been pacified yet it still remains Silently pulling the strings in the background And each day I fear it will again grow too strong And conquer the battlefield of my mangled mind.
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
Parasitic Depression
For too many years I’ve been an unwilling host To an invader inside my head A parasite See, the thing about a parasite? It’s magnificent at hiding It starts out small, undetectable Worming its way inside your body, your mind But this microscopic monster starts to feed off you Eating away your existence from the inside out Tearing through your flesh with its piercing teeth Flooding your brain with searing poison It releases its young to metastasize the damage By the time you have an inkling of the war raging inside This army has grown by hundreds, thousands And they have nuked the battleground, leaving nothing behind. My parasite may be called depression but it works just the same Starting off in the shadows Silently entering your mind Feeding off your suffering Injecting you with its lies “You are worthless” “You’re a burden” “You don’t belong on this earth” These lies grow in numbers, destroying every inch of happiness Until you see the lies as truth in your corrupted lens You are filled with an unwavering dread Crippled by an interminable loneliness And you are at the mercy of this ruthless being Then you go days without sleeping Days without feeling Arms covered in red slashes to at least feel something The world starts spinning faster, but you’re still stuck in slow motion You want someone to hear your silent screams But your presence has become microscopic, invisible And how do you put into words what even you can’t understand? So the darkness consumes you until you’re nothing but an empty shell A ghost of a human being Going through the motions of life while no longer living And all you plead for is the pain to cease So you drown in a sea of pills and pray it’s enough to send you into eternal slumber. I may have raised the white flag on my battle But I was saved before my soul could flee this earth And I am grateful for each breath I still take But this war is far from over My parasite may have been pacified yet it still remains Silently pulling the strings in the background And each day I fear it will again grow too strong And conquer the battlefield of my mangled mind.
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48
I haven't quite figured out yet why it is that the ones in which I want to love me the most are the ones who run as fast as the speed of light from my open heart. And who gave me the right to convince myself that pain doesn't metastasize, it does, trust me once you see the clouds turn grey that is only the start of the storm. For some reason I keep thinking I'll be a map of the sky that people will spend years on figuring out wether constellations are made with my stars connecting to create stories when really I'm just comets crashing into a mess of curly black hair and blood shot hazel eyes. As colors I can't comprehend fall out of broken heart strings I won't stop masking pain with hurt and i keep thinking if I find the perfect synonym for heart break it'll disappear when really it just shifts the ground beneath my feet. Time is a terrifying thing, with that the only choices I have are to go through time in the human race suffocating with a beating heart or stop time, stop heart, and finally breathe.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Indecisive
Instinct and impulse Knotted, just below my ribcage Push me into action Urge me into words Drowning, dreaming language Downing, and devouring Metaphors and images that all come back to you. Never enough, never enough Always too much. I...Cannot...Get it...out. If I cannot get this out of me, It will fester, Metastasize Eat me alive. What more can I say? What more can I do? Words are winged demons in my head They drag me kicking, screaming, always, back to you.
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Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 5:23 AM UTC
Let it all out
I remember the dry taste in my mouth when I watched my love fail to metastasize ***** and gritty, like sand in between teeth that lay like canines in the bed of my gums It's like a double sided dagger, a viper with two tongues; They know the depth of your compassion or it goes by unnoticed And just like love, blood can drip, lovely and scarlet, or it can stain, sanguine and tacky My brain can not differentiate whether my affection is kept in a locket, Or if it is flicked away like a cigarette filter, smoked to the end I sorrow in days that I feel extinguished, the extent of my warmth is drowned out by choking mouthfuls of water Instead of resonating flames licking and sweeping across the home that I find inside of you My beau geste is shoveled beneath mounds of copper colored strands of hair and the smell of lavender And instead of a warm body to grab my shoulders and collide them into a chest, all I feel is a silent covenant in the form of a cold bed sheet that my fingers grab when I am lonely I wish one day to feel secure and at ease with my efforts to express my afflicted interest My heart will continue to pump blood until it gives up and ceases to function And all the while it will stab with every pulse In effort to scream out my grandest soliloquy   I can complain forever, about who can feel my love or who doesn't And I can ramble on for centuries and scribe my pleasantries for you to read But I can assure you one thing to believe, if any; Not a day goes by where I can spit on the sidewalk and not taste you dripping from my mouth
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
The Grand Internal Conflict
I remember the dry taste in my mouth when I watched my love fail to metastasize ***** and gritty, like sand in between teeth that lay like canines in the bed of my gums It's like a double sided dagger, a viper with two tongues; They know the depth of your compassion or it goes by unnoticed And just like love, blood can drip, lovely and scarlet, or it can stain, sanguine and tacky My brain can not differentiate whether my affection is kept in a locket, Or if it is flicked away like a cigarette filter, smoked to the end I sorrow in days that I feel extinguished, the extent of my warmth is drowned out by choking mouthfuls of water Instead of resonating flames licking and sweeping across the home that I find inside of you My beau geste is shoveled beneath mounds of copper colored strands of hair and the smell of lavender And instead of a warm body to grab my shoulders and collide them into a chest, all I feel is a silent covenant in the form of a cold bed sheet that my fingers grab when I am lonely I wish one day to feel secure and at ease with my efforts to express my afflicted interest My heart will continue to pump blood until it gives up and ceases to function And all the while it will stab with every pulse In effort to scream out my grandest soliloquy   I can complain forever, about who can feel my love or who doesn't And I can ramble on for centuries and scribe my pleasantries for you to read But I can assure you one thing to believe, if any; Not a day goes by where I can spit on the sidewalk and not taste you dripping from my mouth
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18
Only the sickness growing Do we see it now? On the surface of the moon In the depths of the sea How fall so quickly comes to winters gloom Its only death On the tongue Of the people Speak it now                            Forever hold your breath Its only sickness growing Do we fear it now? In our cars on the road And our planes in the sky How we'll never really get to where we are going Its only death Only life Only hate Metastasize Only sickness growing Do we feel it now? In our ever aging bones As a poison in our blood How our hearts will always fail our living dream Its only death On the tongue Of the people Speak it now                           Forever hold your breath
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Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 3:07 AM UTC
metastasize