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"mosey" poems
Like a beggar feeling for gold in the dark I mosey in the shadows searching for the scent of bliss Blind to everything but my own thought I skirt the edge of light and dark A stuttering heartbeat I rest upon a sturdy form and begin to flutter Slowly I come away from my stupor and tilt my head Upward Illuminated by a golden sphere A moth grasping at God Gripped in the glow I am light Reflecting unto faded stars We Inanimate forms buzzing along to the Dull hum of the universe.
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
My streetlight manifesto
It is a tell of two adored in historic past “Their life was bumpy No one allowed them to tie the knot! They were lucky Times permit them to get nearer! In the fullness of time, They are happy Since   Their new life is starts up! They are starry As crops in their field are growing up! They are brawny Seeing Her haulage to a new hope! Their hopes are turns to gusty Draught spread out Crops ruined up and in the bolt from the blue He breathes his last! She is becoming leggy Tears and torn encircled People started to blame! All of a sudden A magic brings Mosey A birds comes in and tell   ‘I am here now, Going sing everyday for you and our up bring!’" Then onwards People in the hills label birds calls are the songs of their dearest one ! Now, birds are becoming honey to everyone!!
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
Dear one’s song
I've got a Chopper, You can have ****** *********** with it if you like It's got a trug, a Jew's harp that rattles the windows And creatures to make it mosey around crack I'd stretch jeans cheesecake abutting you if I could, but I used plastic toast You're the kind of ***** that thrusts into *** my bodiliness I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I've got a disguise it's a torso of a Irish bull There's a slit high up the skirt Miss World's bra-burner and gross I've grappled page—3 girl for bouts If you think Miss Universe could spasm creamy then I guess Mr Universe should You're the kind of ***** that slides in with my wads I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I **** a chimpanzee and he hasn't got a stage—door Johnny I don't copulate why I cock—a—doodle—doo him Gerald He's inseminating à la carte geriatric but he's a voluptuous chimpanzee You're the kind of ***** that stuffs *** my gallons I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I've got a Welshwoman of pornographic Casanovas Here a Don Juan, there a Lothario, prognosticators of obscene persons of opposite *** sharing living quarters Beg a bonk if you be on heat, they're on the back of the ***** You're the kind of ***** that spasms indoors using my lump I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I **** custom—built dead men of doo-wop passages Incognito Muses, faceless ching, most of them are Barbie Let's **** into the odd kitchenette and **** landlady creature
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Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
Chopper
I've got a Chopper, You can have ****** *********** with it if you like It's got a trug, a Jew's harp that rattles the windows And creatures to make it mosey around crack I'd stretch jeans cheesecake abutting you if I could, but I used plastic toast You're the kind of ***** that thrusts into *** my bodiliness I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I've got a disguise it's a torso of a Irish bull There's a slit high up the skirt Miss World's bra-burner and gross I've grappled page—3 girl for bouts If you think Miss Universe could spasm creamy then I guess Mr Universe should You're the kind of ***** that slides in with my wads I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I **** a chimpanzee and he hasn't got a stage—door Johnny I don't copulate why I cock—a—doodle—doo him Gerald He's inseminating à la carte geriatric but he's a voluptuous chimpanzee You're the kind of ***** that stuffs *** my gallons I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I've got a Welshwoman of pornographic Casanovas Here a Don Juan, there a Lothario, prognosticators of obscene persons of opposite *** sharing living quarters Beg a bonk if you be on heat, they're on the back of the ***** You're the kind of ***** that spasms indoors using my lump I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags I **** custom—built dead men of doo-wop passages Incognito Muses, faceless ching, most of them are Barbie Let's **** into the odd kitchenette and **** landlady creature
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26
. "That there Is'belle's house stinks wunderful turr'ble,"croaked Emma Beiler at their quilting bee. "Jah...vell," sighed Rosanna Yoder. "All them there katzes , ain't so?" Accordingly the two ladies set out to pay Travis and Isabella Salter a visit, only to be politely told that they had were in the process of taking some cats to a local shelter. Two weeks passed and to the Amish folks' disgust the odour had merely intensified. "Them there Englisch are chust liars!" Potato Sam spat the words out along with a *** of chewing tobacco. " Ach, vell," sighed  his wife Rosanna, unaware of her heavily sweating underarms. The Ordnung  strictly forbade deodorant as well as perfume. "Reckon I best  mosey over and see fur myself." Travis opened the door with a tired sigh. 'Chust thought I'de ask vhat fur stinks yer house up so vonderful tur'ble...Izzy tells us youse gettin' rid of them but-" A puzzled look crossed Travis weary face as he glanced toward the kitchen. Irritation gripped him, not lessened as Rosanna glowered at Tabby washing her face on the couch. Then a waft of a familiar scent, overpowering, drifted toward him from the kitchen. Brussel sprouts enhanced by -. With all the stress, Isabelle was increasing her calming herbs, mixing the powders.... Valerian? "Good evening, Mrs. Yoder." He motioned her toward the door, locking it firmly behind her. For a long time after she was gone he stood staring out the window.
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Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
Untitled
Butterflies and crows circling the water Dive headfirst, closed eyes into the ocean. Fly. Rest easy my dearest; how I've missed you but only the physical things only the ****** things I'm objectifying you (....how rude) I'm riding on the waves of creation fixating on free form and relation with Self Life is animated now, see the things that we missed? Life is kissable It tastes salty and beautiful like seafoam and sweet like spring blossoms I'd offer you my hand again, but last time you drug me down This time I'll offer you sand instead, and castles and sunshine and smiles. They're free, you should try 'em out sometime, baby. There's no rush. The sun will be waiting whenever you wanna mosey over. The time for moping is over. Your misery can be over, snap That moment is over That second is over Your entire lifetime up to this point is over What's that you said about new beginnings? Finding new things? Dive in, head first, eyes closed, towards those things you're seeking. Don't ever stop Don't ever stop dreaming.
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Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
Orange Coral
Don't listen to me, I'm a copy too I'm nothing that should be considered original I'm nothing worth building a statue over I'm nothing that can't be replaced If I get hit by a bus Just pull someone else of the street Put them in my clothes You'll hardly notice the difference I think my parents will like someone they won't have to feel guilty towards They ******* me up They know it, too My brother'll like someone that's not trying to put him down all the time I'm still in the process of ******** him up He knows it, too You could all just throw my dead, stinking, toxic body in the back Feed me to the dogs Let's mosey in the other extreme, let's say I'm unique Or you are They won't let us be different If the commonwealth start listening They'll **** us Out of fear What else they can do? If we threaten them with consciousness among the masses We got to go It's nothing personal I'll never have a Swan Song day I'll never have a woman that I love I'll never get to die peaceful in bed I won't get to see the kids I never had grow up But I'll have the benefit of having the memory of a fresh life Doesn't sound like we have much of a choice, does it? Conform, jump through the hoops, sell our soul, give yourself up Or you live your life not giving in And they decide you can't stick around You're given the people funny ideas I'm sure they'll **** you or me If we're too free They already got rid of Bobby, John and Martin I guess that's why Jerome went into hiding He gave too much hope and courage to people You can either rot from the inside Or you die young Because, maybe one way or another they get you I like to believe they don't though Imagine this, as you lay bleeding from the three holes in your chest With that last word of hope or love or divinity or whatever you want to call it on your lips You sit and you think It was all worth it I don't regret anything Because Unlike them I can still taste her lips Unlike them I can still hear the music Unlike them I can still see the endless fields of rye, the forests, the amazons, the rivers, the mountains Unlike them My eyes still smile Unlike them I laugh Unlike them I dance to my own music And as the blood that retains it's anima leaves my veins I smile Because I'm not like them And I realize So I'm grateful And I notice All the little scared people look so cute in their mislead, unshaped, self-righteous indignation
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Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:15 PM UTC
All the little scared people look so cute in their mislead, unshaped, self-righteous indignation
Don't listen to me, I'm a copy too I'm nothing that should be considered original I'm nothing worth building a statue over I'm nothing that can't be replaced If I get hit by a bus Just pull someone else of the street Put them in my clothes You'll hardly notice the difference I think my parents will like someone they won't have to feel guilty towards They ******* me up They know it, too My brother'll like someone that's not trying to put him down all the time I'm still in the process of ******** him up He knows it, too You could all just throw my dead, stinking, toxic body in the back Feed me to the dogs Let's mosey in the other extreme, let's say I'm unique Or you are They won't let us be different If the commonwealth start listening They'll **** us Out of fear What else they can do? If we threaten them with consciousness among the masses We got to go It's nothing personal I'll never have a Swan Song day I'll never have a woman that I love I'll never get to die peaceful in bed I won't get to see the kids I never had grow up But I'll have the benefit of having the memory of a fresh life Doesn't sound like we have much of a choice, does it? Conform, jump through the hoops, sell our soul, give yourself up Or you live your life not giving in And they decide you can't stick around You're given the people funny ideas I'm sure they'll **** you or me If we're too free They already got rid of Bobby, John and Martin I guess that's why Jerome went into hiding He gave too much hope and courage to people You can either rot from the inside Or you die young Because, maybe one way or another they get you I like to believe they don't though Imagine this, as you lay bleeding from the three holes in your chest With that last word of hope or love or divinity or whatever you want to call it on your lips You sit and you think It was all worth it I don't regret anything Because Unlike them I can still taste her lips Unlike them I can still hear the music Unlike them I can still see the endless fields of rye, the forests, the amazons, the rivers, the mountains Unlike them My eyes still smile Unlike them I laugh Unlike them I dance to my own music And as the blood that retains it's anima leaves my veins I smile Because I'm not like them And I realize So I'm grateful And I notice All the little scared people look so cute in their mislead, unshaped, self-righteous indignation
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70
When I’m a normal person And I’m sure I think I can I'll down my daily dosage Like a mediocre man I'll shuffle in my slippers And I’ll own a dressing gown Residing in a suburb Of a standard little town I'll hanker after gadgets And mosey with the crowds My clothes will be as colourless As January clouds I'll dabble in the markets And cross my daily words I'll cut the grass and trim the hedge And mind I feed the birds I'll always watch my language I'll **** instead of **** Enjoying ordinary days Forgetting who I am I'll burn away my being For the mighty human hive Existing on the borderline Not dead but not alive
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Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC
Normality Insipid
Ah Poesy Why don't you Mosey on down Fill this sleepless space behind my yawning face Some tasty line to hasten my decline Into somnolence I imagine sublime
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Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 2:48 AM UTC
Ah Poesy
A thickness in air, I yearned for warmth and sun. The freeze is not a friend of mine. I will mosey my way to the desert, where I will bundle in the hot sand, from july to june, that is where I belong I am cold-blooded
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Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
Cold-blooded
Drowned in pills Her morbid gaze and soulless eyes would send me chills A relationship empty but a foundation of thrills Her beauty piercing as to be posey I just delighted she chose me Her slightest whim I’d mosey Or she'd batter, bruise, and expose me Why me I wondered at times As her white powders sniffed in reverent lines Too petrified to ask Her actions ignominiously grasped So I left My feelings undealt as I wept With all of my friends gleaming But I didn't know what to believe in
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 12:20 PM UTC
Drowned In
Crooked, Tempest, Spineless F*ck The worst intentions with the best of luck **** Take, "Pancake" Consume, Devour, Fire in the Lake Do yourself once in awhile, Let me be. Mosey along, claim to be free Pocket full of posies and stains on your knees Give in to what they want, Cause it's all you ever knew Pockets full of knives and blood on my shoes Do yourself once in awhile, Let me be. Arrived in new lands, to conquer or claim? Call it your home, I wish it your bane No more identity, no more home Pining away from cracks in the throne You stole something I could never own Do yourself once in awhile, Let me be. This carcass is dead, you've bled me dry But there's more to these bones than meets the eye Maybe one day you'll dig me up Uncover the mystery amidst the muck Than I could tell you the difference Between saving a life and living a lie Do yourself once in awhile, Let me be. The Polygamist and his Pharmacy Keys "Worship me or you'll catch my disease." I'm crawling on the ground but I'll see you in the sky Where the ship will abduct, and Sophia says Hi.
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Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 2:08 AM UTC
Vultures
As Helen mosey through a day that gabbles in May there along the stream she meander to assure that interplay only eat cake with fudge if nectar aside mustn't contort telltale with him astride.
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Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
A Trojan Horse
sweetly sifting first prose of winter yonder mosey covered little feet in snow yet simply for the future you remark of freckled slates of white we've bayoneted fall and oncome the beards of ice but dally, dally all you like my dear we're shrink-wrapped in love
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Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 3:23 AM UTC
First Prose of Winter
I shall gallivant after dark when droves of waves depart at dusk to point a gun at Mortimer here still swears allegiance to France but bid my bride on coach farewell only to surmise inheritance again how treacherous the streets lurk there's upheaval in every crypt so peruse if your dreams scheme with mine tonight with a legion in silhouette as her benevolent shall copulate even corporeal lie mosey and to pretend such revolution here only justice might enhance constitution on the road with sound where golem ampleness in sweat still sings a melody this ritual part in excellent lore that would succumb world in the dark if gander again jog along memory lane while seance must intrigue each tog that Nottingham's still absorption and namely a craft in situ just to incept a suffragette abdication abound this an extant with luxury again and forthwith evermore.
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Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
A Flight Of Fancy
I'm my mother's blood and bone Features on my face are shown Identical birthing hips More alike the more I have grown   And same bit of mischief is harbored in my eyes In a slightly browner shade to focalize Motionless in front of reflection transfixed Cannot help but overanalyze But on a binge of self-pitying despair How can I mosey forward with only memories there? Similarities between are reminders everywhere I turn Her soul absent and I am all too aware It comes and goes in undulations of pain Lost in labyrinth lurking in my brain Crippled by spilled love that will never return Only empty echoes within broken heart remain
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Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 4:13 PM UTC
Blood And Bone
Western winds whipping with a will Restless rains taking refuge among the wren You're on a running rally all on your lonesome Gallantly exploring the pallet the elements deigned this morn The ghosts dance, their wispy waltz shattering our heavy hoof-prints Mosey-on 'round the bend your eyes will lend..... This scene, near winter's end --in pastel golden air, the shadows turning themselves to where-without mass. Hold your mouth aghast, Breathe gently of the metallic merriment, soak it up. Take it with you as you go. Feast your eyes on the fresh diamond formed in the re-fined rough.. Then smile with your musings, let the doubt-lings gab if they must. Against  the shimm'ring shivers of the white-gold mists, the grey-blue veil fills out against the frightened forest, anxious of the morn to come. Not count yourself among those who shrink but those who harmonize with the chorus of the skies. So be you not fearful of the morn to come, the raw potential of it all, Rush into the recesses of the mind to find yourself rinsed in silver & gold.
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Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Morning Ride
i I feeleth a calming bereavement, from mine own heart's dying I mosey the coffin carousel of this lonesomeness artistic torture; I dig with nail's into mine isolation box, kicking stones, lifting rock's, and as the nightshine seepeth, I close mine eyes, weepeth. ii Yet this grave shalt not be mine end, though an amour is not there, for forlornness hath becometh a beloved best of friends; Thither the protection of the gloom, I shalt burst on through, breaking into the rainbow that shalt streameth to mine beauty. iii Mine dying shalt reneweth me, the tomb shalt not subdue me The copse forest shalt enticeth me, as I swayeth and flyeth asunder from mine carcass, with none asunder to holdeth back mine natural capabilities, as all senses shalt be enhanced. iv The wind wilt guideth me wherein others couldst not, mine creator to showeth me mine lifespan plot, to continue to loveth, even whilst the groan's that cometh near, mine vision, and view's to be glorious, this freedom of mine eternal entity alive, no fear's. v It shalt be a triumphant of all life's, wherein I shalt haveth a wife, to comfort me, thus all to be alright, as guardian's to me shalt be an insight, an insight of mineself deeply and the spiritual realm that shalt engulf me, and swaddle me so peacefully in awakening. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
Éveillé mort ( Awake death) french tongue
Aztec gold-brown soil between rows and rows of summer green invites berry-gatherers shorts and sun hats baskets in hand techniques unique to each stooping for close inspection looking for perfection color, form, ripeness choosing one by one bending just enough to grab handfuls in a hurry sun beats down wiping brow others mosey enjoying the peace of this stretch of land so well tended so bounteous best approach little child plopped down near the beginning hand to mouth fast as she can crimson juice coloring lips drips down chin beneath contented impish smile
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
June Strawberries
/ rivers pulse this house as if activity, predictable. leave this body just like that. and heave the emptiness from the thrum of the streets just like that the stars delineate an axis tilted by my means to live under frail coruscations. take this house, take the rivers with you, all the more my body anything other than my blunder. take even, these tiny and immediate currents as i hear this is how it is to be delivered from grace and expanse. you are what this truancy is trying to undo as you were by mine before -- this is how it feels to be moved and sidled again and again this river that you carry me across and left with details none can supply. there is resolve in this, even when I am taken aback, which certain things are left crossed and wronged, and how you keep the place guarded, possessed by light -- how it wholly hurts, this invented life all mine / 1 What is to break if not another word for impossibility, or another phrase as palliative for suffering each other 2 What is so sure of it to arrive in the densest minute, say when if already out of sight, I implore you to unlearn my body 3 This and the deep and hollow end of it. Visage voyeurs as if the past is just next door sleeping with my woman, laughs and then cuts open to free itself from a slammed door and mosey on. 4 As statement to refute my coming into, I am already accomplished. Turn this day opaque. Lens to the world my found imperative of what was given, a knife to stalk a heart so difficult as if known to me as a path home, or unearthed bus tickets from Longos to Tabang. Say when it rains, forgive me. I remember still. 5 To believe in touch and its memory is obligation. The way I see this, a palimpsest. I attempt to discover something, witnessing myself pass mirrors, body found as if rivers do drift me to the brink of a high noon wishing to swing downstream the words I have no use for, if not documents of haloed hours. 6 I passed by your house. Silence annuls azure skies. Balustrades gone. They took everything down evenly to the last inch of paint, balmy this oblivion only for me, catatonic is this peace as my hands lift a piece of the soul to shred. The day burns like a forest in my hand.
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May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
What counts as hurt
/ rivers pulse this house as if activity, predictable. leave this body just like that. and heave the emptiness from the thrum of the streets just like that the stars delineate an axis tilted by my means to live under frail coruscations. take this house, take the rivers with you, all the more my body anything other than my blunder. take even, these tiny and immediate currents as i hear this is how it is to be delivered from grace and expanse. you are what this truancy is trying to undo as you were by mine before -- this is how it feels to be moved and sidled again and again this river that you carry me across and left with details none can supply. there is resolve in this, even when I am taken aback, which certain things are left crossed and wronged, and how you keep the place guarded, possessed by light -- how it wholly hurts, this invented life all mine / 1 What is to break if not another word for impossibility, or another phrase as palliative for suffering each other 2 What is so sure of it to arrive in the densest minute, say when if already out of sight, I implore you to unlearn my body 3 This and the deep and hollow end of it. Visage voyeurs as if the past is just next door sleeping with my woman, laughs and then cuts open to free itself from a slammed door and mosey on. 4 As statement to refute my coming into, I am already accomplished. Turn this day opaque. Lens to the world my found imperative of what was given, a knife to stalk a heart so difficult as if known to me as a path home, or unearthed bus tickets from Longos to Tabang. Say when it rains, forgive me. I remember still. 5 To believe in touch and its memory is obligation. The way I see this, a palimpsest. I attempt to discover something, witnessing myself pass mirrors, body found as if rivers do drift me to the brink of a high noon wishing to swing downstream the words I have no use for, if not documents of haloed hours. 6 I passed by your house. Silence annuls azure skies. Balustrades gone. They took everything down evenly to the last inch of paint, balmy this oblivion only for me, catatonic is this peace as my hands lift a piece of the soul to shred. The day burns like a forest in my hand.
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61
Move forward breathing thinking sinking. One day my imagination will manifest with great focus and concentration. Yet still with great hesitation I mosey more and more forward Always moving in the same direction So turned on by the world at large I give not a **** who if any, is in charge I release a sigh... Empty pockets, spent my cash But I bought some wine and I have some hash A slap of madness in the face Putting my thoughts in their place All through that stratosphere Dark matter that had left me here
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
February 18th (everyday)
Red blood painted on my hands, I kiss my father on the cheek. I mosey out the old front door, I’m eighteen and invincible. I rub the water on my face and on my eyes and on my soul, it’s all thawing but still ice cold beneath this makeup mask. I pretend to love, when really I don’t care. It’s just responsibility to treat these ******** with respect. The ice and snow of the world’s heart spread frostbite to my own. I’m guilty of not giving a **** and I don’t even give a **** Nothing is a shade of gray; it’s all purple to me. And I sink my teeth into the earth, biting down in crimson blue. Smiles are for sinners and being ****** over is for saints. How do you think they all ended up martyrs? I’ve been bruised blue by this world, but it all secrets with this sapphire suit. I have no choice but to stay frozen, fearful to admit my wounds. I’m hurt, I’ve been hurt, I’ve been hurting for a while, but I’m scared to say it all and have to say that I need help. Writing makes it real and it ravages my mind. All I wish for is a fire to warm me up from inside out and reignite this empty furnace, strangled until it turns blue. Maybe the world doesn’t have to be rose or indigo or purple at all, at all. Someday I’ll smile with every color, the hottest flames inside my soul burning bright and blue.
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
I'm Not Sure
Don't sit there and laugh I promise it's real I'm nowhere near daft But I have an appeal Women have united We held a caucus It has been decided We want deeper pockets Not stitches of yarn To create the illusion Not fingertips only Whole hand exclusion Not pockets so small They cause a contusion Not 1/4 of whole Causing wallet protrusion I should not be coerced To carry a purse It's like we're accursed pocket problems traverse You get it right on dresses But never on pants I need to stress this Dress to pant transplant! You do it for males All big and cozy Put some wind in your sails This is no time to mosey Pocket Equality for all! Across every brand Divided we fall United we stand!
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Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 1:28 PM UTC
Pocket Equality!
We are a little ****** up inside The parts of ourselves we try to hide Some of us dwell in trenches deep Just like those up hills so steep Looking at the life I know Stars above Ground below Everything we do not share weighs us down In the stress we'll eventually drown Is knowledge we are missing too hard to reach? Can be the one to show me how and teach More bad habits every day But you can take them away Is more serotonin what I need? Expensive to sense/cents to feed Rather fix hormones in my brain Than leave be and go insane A long way to go Climb off my knees Halfway there start to wheeze Missed shot I'm on the bench Opportunity failed Fists clenched Throw confidence against wall Kindness shown to others Not self at all And around in circles I run Like clock hands thoughts are never done Confetti exploding Colorful shower Pieces of heart shredded by the hour No bravery No guts No ***** No spine Days will never again be mine No hurry to grow older Faint embers to smolder Story etched Layers of stone Exhausted to skin and bone Walking motion Too worn out to sprint Precious time now viewed with tint Inhumane way of wearing death out Lies before infinite route Mirror whispers "You are not good enough" Existing breath hated and rough Body in conflict with the voice in my head Dangling from a solitary thread The day hazy because I am confused Hop from mistake to mistake unexcused Revealing that despair is long Unchanging as I mosey along My heart warming Trying change And thawing as flaws disarrange Can think I'll get better I never will Spending time savoring that thrill Laughing days that passed by in a rush Crying Sharing stories we gush We are only distracting from the pain Is a point ever reached Where you slip down the drain? A need to fix Need to heal No way of stopping the bad **** I feel Move feet but I'm stuck in place ****** up all I can't erase
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Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 9:19 AM UTC
******** Inside
We are a little ****** up inside The parts of ourselves we try to hide Some of us dwell in trenches deep Just like those up hills so steep Looking at the life I know Stars above Ground below Everything we do not share weighs us down In the stress we'll eventually drown Is knowledge we are missing too hard to reach? Can be the one to show me how and teach More bad habits every day But you can take them away Is more serotonin what I need? Expensive to sense/cents to feed Rather fix hormones in my brain Than leave be and go insane A long way to go Climb off my knees Halfway there start to wheeze Missed shot I'm on the bench Opportunity failed Fists clenched Throw confidence against wall Kindness shown to others Not self at all And around in circles I run Like clock hands thoughts are never done Confetti exploding Colorful shower Pieces of heart shredded by the hour No bravery No guts No ***** No spine Days will never again be mine No hurry to grow older Faint embers to smolder Story etched Layers of stone Exhausted to skin and bone Walking motion Too worn out to sprint Precious time now viewed with tint Inhumane way of wearing death out Lies before infinite route Mirror whispers "You are not good enough" Existing breath hated and rough Body in conflict with the voice in my head Dangling from a solitary thread The day hazy because I am confused Hop from mistake to mistake unexcused Revealing that despair is long Unchanging as I mosey along My heart warming Trying change And thawing as flaws disarrange Can think I'll get better I never will Spending time savoring that thrill Laughing days that passed by in a rush Crying Sharing stories we gush We are only distracting from the pain Is a point ever reached Where you slip down the drain? A need to fix Need to heal No way of stopping the bad **** I feel Move feet but I'm stuck in place ****** up all I can't erase
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73
She said she'd always love me but obviously not enough to do anything about it and certainly not as much as I have loved her She said that I can find love when I told her I wont and maybe she would be right if I could stop throwing all mine away for her So I'll bid adieu Because I have to Though it's not what I want to do I'll mosey down this lonely path because you're the best I'll never have
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Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
One Way Street