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"modulations" poems
So there I saw- and then I curled into my fetal ball of envy my happiness had coagulated and chilled like a refrozen popsicle at the back of the freezer. even if you melted my stale cracked enclosure you would still smell the jealous- like hangover on my breath I swear it even exploits my muscles my tendons grimace like massive internal pulley systems. when my mind frowns condescendingly at my juvenile grievances, the follies laugh their disassembled modulations and ignore my pleas no-it takes more than that. my every yellow Laureling becomes a necessity to coax, soften my serpentine charity from whence I have locked it.
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
Jealousy
As candy thaws neath my tongue My eyes take dilation. I fall into an inception as I walk into a place where my tender age went... Then, I saw sevenths of an illusion Acidic iridescence Suffused in a type of dimension I was present. Bound to life's existence... Each and every Earth-bound object was formed by masked bodies that cradled each other. Lifelessly connected to one another. Expressing the same dainty love we are mad for... Jade orbs were absorbed by a topiary lord. Beating. Circulating. Captivating. Caught me devoted in all sorts of emotions. Repetition. Repetition. Sight distortion. Colors stacked on colors. I saw modulations. But they spoke to me in motions. I felt as if I was breathing this all before. And that I was anticipating on something that I could not get myself to ignore. Some moral. That I've been awakened for...     I was reverted back into a timeless age, where matters were forgave and where passions were seemliness. and because of awareness you become unable to love like a child when you abandon your innocence. So here's the message. "Seven is perfection." The eye to see life. Making a connection. Breathing Earth's affection.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Eye Candy
The world as we know it doesn't exist, from an evening days ago, unruly fog with the menacing arrogance of a killer whale, skimming in the shallow waters near the shore, has made the world vanish without any trace, how long it would last, no one could hazard a guess, till now! "Is it the end of the world?" within closed doors people wonder. 1 But no 'bang' of any kind was heard did anyone hear any suspicious 'whimper', the weather women with a broad smile and reassuring voice  fails to tell us. In this stormy night of primeval elements, what exists for us is a continent of fear. Shiver touching the highest recorded mark in the Richter scale of fear, staring at a dark night , bundled in white blanket, all thing moving and static are kept  frozen. Blizzard, a drunken madman keeps on inventing a cuss word different, a minute hissing it in varying tunes and modulations. I hear no drone of airplanes flying low to take the landing approach in the airport nearby, anymore everything except the storm and snowfall has come to a standstill,what the morning will bring, who could tell? Every heart will be heavy tonight, if only 2 Stephen Hawking will lift his cell phone for a minute, this is the time to ask in hush hush tone: "Does such unprecedented signals points that God would play dice negating the prophecy Einstein made"
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
Under the blanket of fog
Synthetic sympathy is like an epidemic across the surface of our baron horizon of sophistication, where predictable greetings and condolences are proclaimed with interpersonal detachment. An aperture is a hole through which light travels across a threshold of darkness. Gullible are those voters who strive for independence whilst firmly clamped in the jaws of proclaimed democracy, where reporters become lively at dramatic scenes of carnage and death. Oh sibling of the expanding universe - I implore you to project your voice across constitutional and cosmological municipalities. Let us run for office beyond the confinement of bureaucratic galaxies. After all, our modulations echo throughout solitary cells of our revered bedlam.
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Screams of Restraint
dissolving in the violet rays I'm in september I'm on the beach on the dark coast by the sea of ​​the past summer i dissolve on the beach in purple rays with modulations of moons with modulations ice with fire rays from under the roofs dissolving in the violet rays I'm all standing I'm standing all standing and now I go I go I go I go and my eyes look straight at the time they look straight into september and what do i want to say and what does september want to tell me I don't know dissolving in the purple rays I know I know that I know what those moments were tomorrow they will leave me tomorrow tomorrow today they left me and then already yesterday and the roof broke through the waves on the seas 08.12.18
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
Under The Violet Rays.
Once I attempted To compose The greatest songs of all That crescendos Up the scales of life Modulations That evolve... But in these Staggered stanzas Where memories Together bleed The music Changes minds As drama changes keys And so a broken opus Is the only song I leave ...
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Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 9:16 AM UTC
MODULATIONS
The mouth is the small compass of the soul, Without dials, true north, or magnetic force, The ungaugeable instrument of the voice, In directionless modulations of undertow, To circumnavigate under cartographer’s pole Stars guide our wayfinding-heirlooms of words.
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Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
Small Compass of the Soul
I am Emergent: The tower rising up, Babel of the boundarylands. Temperature climbing, Entropic of Cancer. Chaos amassing, oozing from a verging. Angels in the angles, Cons and vexes in the caves, signaling out- My signal absorbs, but does not absolve. Fractal. Factual. Punctuating the boundary like amplitude modulations of an old radio. Listen for me. Emerging from ether, broadcast cadence in pixelated pragmatism, propaganda, pain, and from a power- signal too weak, too dated to remember its own source. But still I signal back what signaled me- The Emergent Current
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May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 1:40 PM UTC
The Current