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"misbehaves" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
Strolling through the park With humans, dogs, and birds, Pink leaves make their mark As they hover down in thirds. Drifting along lazy airwaves, An amplified guitar echoes As a band soulfully misbehaves For all nearby bedfellows. Apartments loom over trees, From a place of urban gray As blue air works to appease Spaces between dusk and day. Sturdy street lights rusted and old Accompanying a worn path ignite, One by one flashing dark to gold On a normal Wednesday night.
0
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
A Normal Wednesday Night
The light pollution from the lives of little people in the big city reflects off the lowriding clouds, the same way my knees reflect in the little puddles from the big rains. It hurts my eyes to look up without sunglasses, hurts my lips to think of tasting the subway oil that drip drip drips I speculate at the transformers, part automatic, part people in their pre-ripped jeans, learning to get their Ns to drive themselves away, yarn trailing from their sweaters like parade float streamers. Citizens run so fast to catch the early train home, freefalling down the stairs breathing in the exhales of the other racer’s exhaust. Marking their triumphs with participation ribbons. The pacific pants at toes, a puppy that only occasionally misbehaves. Impatient for attention, waves wagging back and forth, up the imitation river, past the downtown. Kicking the sea wall with it's gravity boots. The geese are on hiatus until they can take back the city. Making the drains overflow, creating their own habitat, they’ll strut their haughty markings, distinguished from orcas, away from any saline nonsense. Were we to retrain the population to turn blind eyes, we’d be much more efficient, stop wasting time contending to society’s obsession with documenting itself. But then, what would we do all day? Creating light pollution must give immediate gratification. Once all the lights are turned off, the influence won’t continue, creating a lack of permanence, making our need to be remembered seem trivial indeed.
0
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
Light Pollution
The light pollution from the lives of little people in the big city reflects off the lowriding clouds, the same way my knees reflect in the little puddles from the big rains. It hurts my eyes to look up without sunglasses, hurts my lips to think of tasting the subway oil that drip drip drips I speculate at the transformers, part automatic, part people in their pre-ripped jeans, learning to get their Ns to drive themselves away, yarn trailing from their sweaters like parade float streamers. Citizens run so fast to catch the early train home, freefalling down the stairs breathing in the exhales of the other racer’s exhaust. Marking their triumphs with participation ribbons. The pacific pants at toes, a puppy that only occasionally misbehaves. Impatient for attention, waves wagging back and forth, up the imitation river, past the downtown. Kicking the sea wall with it's gravity boots. The geese are on hiatus until they can take back the city. Making the drains overflow, creating their own habitat, they’ll strut their haughty markings, distinguished from orcas, away from any saline nonsense. Were we to retrain the population to turn blind eyes, we’d be much more efficient, stop wasting time contending to society’s obsession with documenting itself. But then, what would we do all day? Creating light pollution must give immediate gratification. Once all the lights are turned off, the influence won’t continue, creating a lack of permanence, making our need to be remembered seem trivial indeed.
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56
You hired me to be a cook at your restaurant. I'll cook but I won't do everything you want. When you said what you wanted, I said no. I'll cook the food but I won't peel the potatoes. I won't peel potatoes or anything else either. Your daughter is accusing me of ****** harassment and you believe her. The truth is that she desperately wants me to be her *** slave. When I refuse, she becomes vindictive and she misbehaves. She tore her dress and said that I attacked her. I'd had all I could take so I finally smacked her. I won't give in to her demands, if I have to, I'll take her to court. She's the ugliest girl I've ever seen, her face is covered with warts. Because I won't be her piece of *** she tries to get me in hot water. I won't peel your vegetables and I won't sleep with your ugly daughter. When I got this job, I thought that I would love it. But I've decided to quit, take this job and shove it.
0
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC
I Won't Be Your Daughter's *** Slave
After long dark, you can find me in my mind; taming serpents; kissing girls. You may not understand why I've been the way I am. You're under-educated and that's only half your fault. Sometimes I am imprisoned within the waves of an ocean that always misbehaves -- but it's not my fault; just the way the god rolls: making halves and making wholes. After the short syrup of light, you can find me hiding, true; pulling off ticks; kissing boys. You may not comprehend the way I'm fumbled together. You're under-educated and that's only half your fault. Always I am imprisoned within the crash of culture; my thoughts treated like worms; my illnesses considered contrived. But it's not my fault; just the way you guys roll: ignoring halves for conventional wholes.
0
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
20. Sicko; Degenerates
cyclic lingering disconnected rambling the same words rearanged breathes shortening impotent bargaining the same pattern misbehaves Ive always walked this way hormonal litter cursed by anatomy hyesteria weepy futility uncharacteristic of one so bold the words of tongues drag mud through wounds a voided heart : not so deep breaths stand strong in misery mindfulness, like a drug disconnect and call it religion pacing pacing pacing thoughts; I bleed for the words of others For both praise and scheming lies I wish to leave this haunted soul but I But I but I ...what? need to run? to hide? to hold my ground? we'll see as it comes a controlling women's worst nightmare
0
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
control freak
Embarked my usual train of thought, raging hormones fight fiercely to win. There you are now, vividly brought, in pure thoughts full of sin Tossing & turning in bed, a typical lustful insomniac. Tearing my blanket, pulling on a thread, and watching the ceiling like a maniac. I stare in empty spaces, anxiously awaiting you now. I'm going mad with your perfume traces. I even smell it on my dress, I don't know how.   I lay there restless for a while, until i hear your voice. You walk through the door to serenade me to sleep I say "touch me." and you like that choice. Bite me, I love when a lover misbehaves. Breath me in the midnight heat. Crush on me like the strong Pacific waves. Come closer, come sense my heartbeat. Sleep deprivation. We argue. Over a lovers' argument, You say "A million times I love you" I say "Your love, is my lifetime accomplishment" You lay a kiss, ever so adorning. Slip into your dream as I slip into mine and when we make it to the next morning then darling I guess that's a good sign.
0
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Lustful Insomniacs
The noise surrounding misbehaves; The presence of devotion. Covenants made until the graves, Or some heart's first emotion. The adorned comforts in delight, She is curled up yet open; Clingy with ladybug wings bright And the actions soft-spoken. Deep within a chamber of blood This pinprick of loneliness, Pulsing with an empty deep thud; Wishing the same - to caress.
0
Feb 12, 2010
Feb 12, 2010 at 7:36 AM UTC
Half a Heartbeat
You're the answer I hear when learning misbehaves friendship running off around hedges with rounded edges calling me to figure out the facts behind neatly pruned leaves learning what is covered when they cease to scatter and dodge I follow the delectable hints to where the giggles grow louder now I'm led toward your near indecent scent the flowers in the borders wriggle with unbound glee whilst love hides with held breath in hidden indents you dare to press up close against an idle post where radiance warms to a chance find in prospect expectant that your dalliance will escape my notice but I see it blooming in pupils where love's not faked I find you on a hunch in the midst of hesitations when I tease the bush apart like two explaining pages opening answering lips brimming with wild questions each kiss a knowing release to lush and flowing fields that day that friendship faced the truth of love's sweet tutelage
0
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
The garden flower that strayed
When heart breaks Love tracks Misbehaves Smile fakes Countdown All around Break break They are fakes Don't nourish All foolish I'm alone No one known.
0
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 1:45 AM UTC
When heart breaks
We cage our animals The way we cage our men Some may call it cruelty The way we lock them in We go and lock the man away When he misbehaves But with the animals we kindly say We're just trying to save Just who are we trying to save All the wild animals from Is it from themselves Or is it all from us And what about man In the same way Is it them or us That we're trying to save It's the classic case of Monkey see with monkey do And of who is watching who Inside this man made zoo
0
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Man Made Zoo
GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB at easter today it’s good friday and bob delahunty was going to church to have a hot cross bun feast, and a hungry poor buddhist was going into the church and asked bob, why do the christians like to eat over easter, what is it all about and bob said, it’s a time where families, forget about their differences and share a big celebration, with hot cross buns today after their service and then on easter they will host family get togethers, where the kids are forced to hunt for eggs that the parents hid in the garden, it is a very good day, and the buddhist man said why can’t christians be nice to each other every day, like us buddhists ands bob said, well, i guess your right, but life hands us problems to fix, like divorce and family quarrels and battles that can’t be resolved, you see we are always away from loved ones and easter is a way to keep updated on where our loved ones are, and then the buddhist asked bob why can’t they scype every night and then bob said, buddy, no person really wants to do that, actually, it is great to give families fun at easter, like sending kids on easter hunts, how radical dude and have great hot cross bun morning teas, where we all can feast, yeah, if we did these things every day we would get so fat, and kids will be so greedy, and we need every city in the land to pop open the champagne corks, saying HAPPY EASTER DUDES, AND TO ALL A HAPPY FEASTING you see easter if you add an f, could mean, the annual feaster, but we took the f away to make you feel great and then the buddhist said, ok but what if you were fasting in a remote country and you had to knock back the hot cross buns and easter eggs and bob said ok, yeah, if your fasting you must say no, i am on a diet and the buddhist said, what if you went to a nightclub and got heavily ****** from vodkas and rums etc etc and get too drunk on easter saturday, are you still expected to roll up to family get togethers on easter sunday and bob said yes, then the buddhist said, how do you cope, HOW THE **** DO YOU COPE this is how, you sing god is the devil and the devil is grog god is the devil and the devil is grog god is the devil and the devil is grog especially round easter time where drinking may send you back and forwards to the sink spewing and the buddhist asked bob one thing, before he went to tiabet, he asked, is there really such thing as a devil because every night i drink a whole bottle of wine by myself and bob said, well if the devil was grog i think i am the devil, cause, grog is my cup of tea and the buddhist went home and bob left saying this one word, misbehave, everyone who drinks grog misbehaves and there is nothing wrong with that, bob said happy easter and went back to the devil’s hideout and the buddhist blessed him saying, the devil, there is no such thing
0
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
easter with god the devil and bob, and a homeless buddhist
GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB at easter today it’s good friday and bob delahunty was going to church to have a hot cross bun feast, and a hungry poor buddhist was going into the church and asked bob, why do the christians like to eat over easter, what is it all about and bob said, it’s a time where families, forget about their differences and share a big celebration, with hot cross buns today after their service and then on easter they will host family get togethers, where the kids are forced to hunt for eggs that the parents hid in the garden, it is a very good day, and the buddhist man said why can’t christians be nice to each other every day, like us buddhists ands bob said, well, i guess your right, but life hands us problems to fix, like divorce and family quarrels and battles that can’t be resolved, you see we are always away from loved ones and easter is a way to keep updated on where our loved ones are, and then the buddhist asked bob why can’t they scype every night and then bob said, buddy, no person really wants to do that, actually, it is great to give families fun at easter, like sending kids on easter hunts, how radical dude and have great hot cross bun morning teas, where we all can feast, yeah, if we did these things every day we would get so fat, and kids will be so greedy, and we need every city in the land to pop open the champagne corks, saying HAPPY EASTER DUDES, AND TO ALL A HAPPY FEASTING you see easter if you add an f, could mean, the annual feaster, but we took the f away to make you feel great and then the buddhist said, ok but what if you were fasting in a remote country and you had to knock back the hot cross buns and easter eggs and bob said ok, yeah, if your fasting you must say no, i am on a diet and the buddhist said, what if you went to a nightclub and got heavily ****** from vodkas and rums etc etc and get too drunk on easter saturday, are you still expected to roll up to family get togethers on easter sunday and bob said yes, then the buddhist said, how do you cope, HOW THE **** DO YOU COPE this is how, you sing god is the devil and the devil is grog god is the devil and the devil is grog god is the devil and the devil is grog especially round easter time where drinking may send you back and forwards to the sink spewing and the buddhist asked bob one thing, before he went to tiabet, he asked, is there really such thing as a devil because every night i drink a whole bottle of wine by myself and bob said, well if the devil was grog i think i am the devil, cause, grog is my cup of tea and the buddhist went home and bob left saying this one word, misbehave, everyone who drinks grog misbehaves and there is nothing wrong with that, bob said happy easter and went back to the devil’s hideout and the buddhist blessed him saying, the devil, there is no such thing
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34
Your teeth are crooked They’re yellow too. Your hair misbehaves – Just like you. Your humour I fail to understand Like the words you mumble in your sleep. You have no manners Can’t even hold a fork !! You bite your nails And your words are sharp Little love do you seem to give – Time a waste for me. Yet I stand here still With a smile on my face – Your grace is hidden, Your charm is only ever mine. Your smile so rare But springs from soul My darling - rarer than any precious stone.
0
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
My Darlings not
I treasure  my blossom / like a flower she shall grow and blossom I cherish her skin /fearing the worst when day it will rotten I curse the moon / faces he changes some grin some scheme I hold her face closest  / when she misbehaves , outside in woods , to the window she will scream I pleasure my blossom / poems she begs for so I will always write more I answer my blossom / questions of home ? but here she will stay , here where it is warm I dream of my blossom / her pedals lose color  in colder season I pollen my blossom / by moon fall we will know if conceived was daughter or son I bury my blossom / this cabin is silent but loud  like wind I cry for my blossom / our child starved without a drop of milk I need a new blossom / a daisy field is over the hill I find my new blossom / but another gardener is there ; another I shall **** I walk with my blossom / she holds onto my wrist tight with love I carry my blossom / through the doorway as newlywed I fight for my blossom / scoundrels or sheriffs couldn’t fathom our celibate matrimony I lust for my blossom / how she smells and reminds me of my last family I yearn for my blossom / she cries with tears - soul curling  callings of pompous proportions S H E . N E E D S . T O . C A L M . D O W N . I pet my blossom / hum out what she needs to hear now “The day we decay in the casket we share ; we will stare so close nose to nose. No need to breath so faint and vigorously into my ear , Im here , my dear , forever through death. Let the worms feed on us both , when our story is told , in books or songs of romance envious audience will dance. Hold onto my flesh if you need some more , in the cupboard I stored , another layer for warmth. You smell of dandelions your hair like straw , I swore I saw your shattered kaleidoscope garnished glare elsewhere before. Your soul is sown onto my own how humbled I am to have you back home. Sleep now. H U S H . N O W. Wipe tears of joy off of your porcelain skin. You will wake to my eyes , every day , every night , I will hum you asleep sing you my eulogy again again again. My most precious flower , with such a solemn smile  , lips so cracked kiss so sweet , your flower will bloom with a blossom none have seen. Goodnight fare love greet me with glee inside your dream.” the ambience of woods / the sirens of crickets I close my eyelids on the floor beside my blossom s i l e n c e
0
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 6:38 AM UTC
flesh
I treasure  my blossom / like a flower she shall grow and blossom I cherish her skin /fearing the worst when day it will rotten I curse the moon / faces he changes some grin some scheme I hold her face closest  / when she misbehaves , outside in woods , to the window she will scream I pleasure my blossom / poems she begs for so I will always write more I answer my blossom / questions of home ? but here she will stay , here where it is warm I dream of my blossom / her pedals lose color  in colder season I pollen my blossom / by moon fall we will know if conceived was daughter or son I bury my blossom / this cabin is silent but loud  like wind I cry for my blossom / our child starved without a drop of milk I need a new blossom / a daisy field is over the hill I find my new blossom / but another gardener is there ; another I shall **** I walk with my blossom / she holds onto my wrist tight with love I carry my blossom / through the doorway as newlywed I fight for my blossom / scoundrels or sheriffs couldn’t fathom our celibate matrimony I lust for my blossom / how she smells and reminds me of my last family I yearn for my blossom / she cries with tears - soul curling  callings of pompous proportions S H E . N E E D S . T O . C A L M . D O W N . I pet my blossom / hum out what she needs to hear now “The day we decay in the casket we share ; we will stare so close nose to nose. No need to breath so faint and vigorously into my ear , Im here , my dear , forever through death. Let the worms feed on us both , when our story is told , in books or songs of romance envious audience will dance. Hold onto my flesh if you need some more , in the cupboard I stored , another layer for warmth. You smell of dandelions your hair like straw , I swore I saw your shattered kaleidoscope garnished glare elsewhere before. Your soul is sown onto my own how humbled I am to have you back home. Sleep now. H U S H . N O W. Wipe tears of joy off of your porcelain skin. You will wake to my eyes , every day , every night , I will hum you asleep sing you my eulogy again again again. My most precious flower , with such a solemn smile  , lips so cracked kiss so sweet , your flower will bloom with a blossom none have seen. Goodnight fare love greet me with glee inside your dream.” the ambience of woods / the sirens of crickets I close my eyelids on the floor beside my blossom s i l e n c e
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23
You've made a sensible decision, joining these ranks of stomped-on stand-in's. I'll be your Virgil and guide you through the ropes too often learned at lashing. Don't overlook the import of choosing proper cause and duly sainted miens. Be better judge of princely nature, for when he does stray, it's you we'll hurt. The world has no shortage of ****** and to keep the knife at bay, befriend him you must, lest he misbehaves solely for the pleasure of watching you writhe. If it comes to that, all you'll have left is to pray, he meets an untimely end, and loads your back with shuffled-off cares to scape back to the wilds whence you came.
0
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 1:12 PM UTC
Tips for Being a Whipping Boy (or Girl)
Every night my spiritual start suffering of the damaged that I had done it, within lots of harmful misbehaves in my past life. Will you ever forgive me, and demand to the clouds with a Few drops of forgiveness, to wash myself away of all sins. My mind is starving to read your bible, my soul is thirsty too Meet with you, my heart is alive like me believes about you. This Christmas I will spend my entire time, praying to The Lord, To meet with you in my dream, to confuse you that I want To be a soldier, or even slave in your kingdom, because earth Forced me to be a sinner, but now I want to be your follower. I believe that tears won't make me blind anymore, because Remembering of you in my life, is the joy I only ever wanted. 26/10/2014
0
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
Jesus
It's raining again. Wet hair almost drowning her. Riding bicycles on empty streets. Hair running free. Flicks on shoulder blades. Blades that aren't sharp. Just soggy. Like a smelly dog that misbehaves. Hair that's not trained, nor restrained. No bands of Alice. Nor elastic. No coronets or diamanté. Tatty nylon hair nets. Holding hair in place. Makeup running down her face. Heading back to her place. Wants to find a towel. Like me, she loathes umbrellas. And her bicycle is rusting fast. Anyway, has anybody ever ridden a bicycle while holding an umbrella. (c)Livvi
0
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
RAIN
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions
Isn’t it all games and bets? With my sweet little marionettes Charmingly they fight my wars Dancing to my twiddling force Happily I watch them give in To the daily new laws I spin Dear puppets what choice do you have? But to dodge from the president’s wrath Thus I command you to fight For what should be ours by right Oil, gold, land and power I lust Looting the weak must be shushed To hell you say I should make my way Blaming me for the wars we play Remember it was me who was named To comply the wishes our country claimed Even you’ve got marionettes to your ease Gladly abusing them as you please Power and wealth society craves It’s not just me who misbehaves My successors will replace my place Juggling with morals they will face For the system was painted by society And now it pains our humanity
0
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
Marionettes
In my mind, reality doesn't follow a strait narative. I get lost sometimes. Spychogenic fugue. My mind is like a dog, it obeys me sometimes and others, it get out of the fence and misbehaves.
0
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
The dog & the mind
It’s me there in your sunrise eyes your swaying hips, your sunset thighs like tasting sun kissed lemon pies writhing in your sun soaked ties My fingers gently wisp your breast Bite your petals, kiss your chest Holding you when you need rest Restrained there at your own behest It’s me there lapping you like waves Exploring all your hidden caves Sensual your body craves So wild as it misbehaves   But soon it will be you I’m sure Who’s pinned me on the sandy floor Begging me to beg for more Begging you to touch my core It will be us then side by side Arms entwined but neither tied No foolish thoughts nor foolish pride No fears or feelings we must hide Just us there in the fading light And us there in the quiet night Again, when next the sun takes flight Like two birds soaring to great height Then gently fading out of sight Yes, gently fading out of sight.
0
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
Swans
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
Advanced Aporia
Violence begets violence, hate begets hate this issue must end before it's too late it's one thing to spank, quite another to beat whether its done at home or out in the street public embarrassment just angers your kid resentment will grow of which you'll never be rid families then broken bonds forever lost public beatings have a terrible cost this circle exists and there is no denying in the end what you'll find is a parent who's crying wondering why their kids have lost all respect when their beatings have been a form of neglect sparing the rod is not spoiling the child when it's most often the rod that makes the youth wild parents wake up, if it's fear that you want what you will gain are regrets that forever will haunt your child needs you to be their greatest hero don't treat them in a way that you appear as a zero the mother in Baltimore in that brief little session has taught to her son a truly terrible lesson there's a form of discipline, one that's way over the line that when their child misbehaves, they've learned that beatings are fine you see beatings get passed down to the next generation when the kids beat their own kids, it's a regeneration nobody's been listening, the problem's not gone the circle continues and the beating goes on
0
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
The Beating Goes On
Smoke fills the air, we are aware. As we sit and talk, the evening stalks. The subtle sparks, the night, dark. The fire is a light, the black is a fright. The scorching air crawls my skin, the darkness lingers, the evil twin. A side with blazing, red, hot heat waves, the other side, cold and it misbehaves. The dissonance, twas' a blissful feel, and so my mouth kept sealed. and so my mouth kept sealed, and my mouth kept sealed.
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Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
Opposites Attract