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"motivates" poems
Love is a violent act. I mean, how does something, So sweet and lovely, Make you ready to commit, Brutality and adultery, And render us so incapable, Of thinking past jealousy? With red words fogging our eyes, And a black void echoing between our ears, I think love is a violent act. For nothing like it, Motivates us to tear down cities, Dance in the ruins, And rebuilt something new, All for one person. Love is a violent act, That makes us take our hearts, Pry, rip and tear slowly from our chests, And lay it as an offering, To someone who doesn't want it. Love is such a violent act, Melting our brains and controlling our tongues, Numbing us to the fact that if we care, we will hurt, Giving us an addiction worse than that to drugs, God, it made us do so many things we shouldn't have done. Love is such an unforgivable, Violent, Act.
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Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 11:48 AM UTC
Love is a Violent Act
They say pride comes before a fall Which I do not believe at all, For how would we progress unless We can take pride in our success? 'Tis pride in success I believe That motivates us to achieve. So whether they be big or small Celebrate your achievements all! Take pride in any job well done And apologise to no one!
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
Pride!
I'll make your words my playlist... and I'll play them over and over again I'll put them on repeat... so I am reminded that I have a friend It is medicine to my ears... No remix or night core modification could compare The music that motivates my heart to keep dancing... The beat that makes my heart keep throbbing... to show that I care I'll make your words my playlist... and your sentences my harmony to my melody. No billion dollar offer could make me sell your albums... Because you sang each word... to me... and for me... so heavenly... Let me make your words my Playlist... and I swear... I'll embrace and believe every word... every whisper... every breath... never to be on-air...
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Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
♥♫ I'll make your words my Playlist ♫♥
I hope that someday you realize your good enough. That you’ll finally find a person to love you unconditionally, To make all the others disappear and be gone into nothingness. That he’ll be the one to comfort you and buy you pizza and a smoothie on the bad days. That he’ll care when your upset and be there for you when your down. To stick by your side through the bad times so the good times are a breeze. i hope that someday you realize your worth. That all this time you were better than the person you made yourself out to be. That you realize you deserve the constant attention and midnight laughs. You deserve to finally believe him when he tells you, you’re beautiful because they rest never cared to prove it to you. I hope that someday you feel loved. And that you stop pasting a smile on your face and calling what you have love That you don't have to lie to people when you argue that he cares about you. That you feel loved by someone you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with. I hope that you find a man one day that will look at you with glaring eyes. Hopelessly, insanely in love with you enough where he cant take his eyes off you. That he shows you off and flaunts you around because he feels so lucky. I wish for you a gushey gewy disgusting love that people roll their eyes over. I hope you finally love yourself enough to allow him to love you That he only boosts your confidence. That he makes you feel like the absolute best version of you. I hope he motivates you to get things done that he is the best thing for you. I hope you can let him in Allow him to love you. So you can witness all the beautiful in love.
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Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
I hope you find love
I hope that someday you realize your good enough. That you’ll finally find a person to love you unconditionally, To make all the others disappear and be gone into nothingness. That he’ll be the one to comfort you and buy you pizza and a smoothie on the bad days. That he’ll care when your upset and be there for you when your down. To stick by your side through the bad times so the good times are a breeze. i hope that someday you realize your worth. That all this time you were better than the person you made yourself out to be. That you realize you deserve the constant attention and midnight laughs. You deserve to finally believe him when he tells you, you’re beautiful because they rest never cared to prove it to you. I hope that someday you feel loved. And that you stop pasting a smile on your face and calling what you have love That you don't have to lie to people when you argue that he cares about you. That you feel loved by someone you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with. I hope that you find a man one day that will look at you with glaring eyes. Hopelessly, insanely in love with you enough where he cant take his eyes off you. That he shows you off and flaunts you around because he feels so lucky. I wish for you a gushey gewy disgusting love that people roll their eyes over. I hope you finally love yourself enough to allow him to love you That he only boosts your confidence. That he makes you feel like the absolute best version of you. I hope he motivates you to get things done that he is the best thing for you. I hope you can let him in Allow him to love you. So you can witness all the beautiful in love.
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26
U gave me that leaf, & said u were never gonna leave, Cause we were meant to live, now I have to Outlive & conceive the pain of grieve, Who are u to tell me when to meditate? Please go your way and don't dictate, I have been born to innovate, Learn from me and don't aggravate, Why dig into my past just to excavate things and deliberate , Yet you imitate and commentate and say it irritates, Never hesitate to prostate, Cause it elevate and motivates my innovative. Even if your silences grieve so loud in my ears, I will never freeze, I will always leave, Because I never lived, I am never relief, I can't be pleased, Even when u sneeze. It only aggravates my pain when I eat, Dats the reason I refused to breath. How can you call me fake When that's what you are, What you are is what I say , What I have seen is what am saying.. Fake, fake, fake, Fake u are like fanta Colorful yet distrustful Great pleasure Hidden smile, Full of Fantasy, deceitful u are. You said u were my friend, then why stab me twice and expect me to talk once, U have twined &twisted; me, Enough of the Glossy bossy, mischievous in motivation, Malicious in thought, Why judge when you can settle to be a judge in a jungle Stop been unjustly, & learn to be justifiable, Now it's time for u to leave , superstitiously I have lived suspicious u have been, Dangerous you have become, Unpredictable you are , You're definitely a ********* You're never my friend
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Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
FAKE FRIENDS
How Poets routinely tell lies or truth with great "sincerity" and earnest projections of "poetic charisma" and lashings of "who me tell lies?". and yet they routinely avoid truthfulness, in case they forget the  power of lies and truth, in their search for fame. Mesmerised by its attendant celebrity groupmind and of course its wealth.. Indeed Poets don't want to know that truthfulness has nothing to do with truth. Indeed Poets don't want to know that truth is a lie and a lie is truth, two sides of a darkened mirror and both are equally valueless except  for  seeing false faces in.. Poets bleat on about how the shackleable object of their 'love' , she or he, are not theirs to own or categorise or monopolise. yet they keep on expecting full submission and just getting an empty back, and a disappearing set of footprints. Like the sheep and goats that Poets are, they bleat on endlessly about their wants their wants  their wants. They want fame as Poets--disguised as distribution deals. They want contracts to produce garbage for HallMark--as if.. They want **** licking critical acclaim--from **** licking critics. They want international poetry prizes from aesthetic morons-- wearing Armani suits. They want Groupies--but not ******* They want Media eulogies--but not truthfulness. Always are they deliberately forgetting that "you cant always get what you want". The last thing that Poets want is what they need most of all. They really need An end to the narcissism of those that want to be called "poet"--in your dreams. An end to the juvenile arrogance that motivates them to put up strings of meaningless associated words and vainly call them poems. An end to childish immaturity, and inchoate meandering through other peoples words and experiences, stealing others lives and characters. Always incessantly pretending that because they can read the words of others that they have also shared their experiences--indeed their experience was deeper wider higher. In another day and age of non-violent sensibility   these kind of Poets would be called thieves and liars. In this day and  age they scribble emotional garbage and pretend its "poetry"--encouraged by intellectual follies. As poets they have become walking proto cash registers. Sin Verguensa. Sin Verguensa. Sin is Spanish for without. Poets are  SIN integrity. Poets are SIN Truthfulness. Poets are SIN decency. Poets are SIN. Im so glad I could never be mistaken for a  Poet. Wouldnt want to be mistaken as a poet.
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Isnt it 'funny'?
How Poets routinely tell lies or truth with great "sincerity" and earnest projections of "poetic charisma" and lashings of "who me tell lies?". and yet they routinely avoid truthfulness, in case they forget the  power of lies and truth, in their search for fame. Mesmerised by its attendant celebrity groupmind and of course its wealth.. Indeed Poets don't want to know that truthfulness has nothing to do with truth. Indeed Poets don't want to know that truth is a lie and a lie is truth, two sides of a darkened mirror and both are equally valueless except  for  seeing false faces in.. Poets bleat on about how the shackleable object of their 'love' , she or he, are not theirs to own or categorise or monopolise. yet they keep on expecting full submission and just getting an empty back, and a disappearing set of footprints. Like the sheep and goats that Poets are, they bleat on endlessly about their wants their wants  their wants. They want fame as Poets--disguised as distribution deals. They want contracts to produce garbage for HallMark--as if.. They want **** licking critical acclaim--from **** licking critics. They want international poetry prizes from aesthetic morons-- wearing Armani suits. They want Groupies--but not ******* They want Media eulogies--but not truthfulness. Always are they deliberately forgetting that "you cant always get what you want". The last thing that Poets want is what they need most of all. They really need An end to the narcissism of those that want to be called "poet"--in your dreams. An end to the juvenile arrogance that motivates them to put up strings of meaningless associated words and vainly call them poems. An end to childish immaturity, and inchoate meandering through other peoples words and experiences, stealing others lives and characters. Always incessantly pretending that because they can read the words of others that they have also shared their experiences--indeed their experience was deeper wider higher. In another day and age of non-violent sensibility   these kind of Poets would be called thieves and liars. In this day and  age they scribble emotional garbage and pretend its "poetry"--encouraged by intellectual follies. As poets they have become walking proto cash registers. Sin Verguensa. Sin Verguensa. Sin is Spanish for without. Poets are  SIN integrity. Poets are SIN Truthfulness. Poets are SIN decency. Poets are SIN. Im so glad I could never be mistaken for a  Poet. Wouldnt want to be mistaken as a poet.
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58
Sip, sip, sip, is how it starts out when you're feeling a little down. Clug, clug, clug, is when it could end when you're nearly about to drown. Sad and depressed, motivates the hand to delve into the cans in the fridge. One by one, this helps you no? By twelve I feel like slipping from a bridge. "I'm a **** man, let's break out the Jack." My body numb, the pain subsides away. Emotions mean nothing, neither does life I got in my car, and reversed out my driveway. Not really knowing, where I would be going my mind buried deep down in a hole. Following the lines on the outskirt of town they lied and took me head on in a pole. When I was found, people couldn't believe, the horrific picture they'd seen. My parents never imagined, this day would come they would suffer a funeral for their teen.
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Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Down
Purposes as incomprehensible and wonderful as these purposes Either you had no purpose or the purpose is beyond the end The purpose of sitting is not to be satisfied or satiated Because the timepiece not only serves a purpose, it is adapted to that purpose Except it was a secret purpose The world is a mental activity, a dream of souls, without foundation, purpose, weight or shape People in collective idleness are even more repellent than when purpose motivates them God, glass, my townspeople! For what purpose? His purpose and mine is to catch photons and store them in our bones Lately, as have you, I have thought about our war and its purpose To have a season for every purpose, Ecclesiastes was right about that Names of plants, languages of mammals, purposes of insects, placement of rocks My friend who is counselor to kings and presidents never lacks purpose To what purpose, April, do you return again? Not to say there is no purpose necessarily, I just don’t immediately get it Stately purposes, valor in battle, glorious annals of army and fleet, death for the right cause Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose, protect the young from the janjaweed, the crop from the **** The knight, the penitent misses last assessment of life’s purpose, babbling for God to appear I mean your entire purpose should be living, you must take living seriously Sleep with a purpose Or lose all purpose beyond ****** child *** and food hoarding Counting is associated with primitive forms of writing, that is the purpose of poetry The purpose of school is to introduce us to the world’s innumerable wonders Their corners sharp, their lines exact, as if their purpose was to show the plane geometry of snow That’s when everything becomes clear, purpose v. purposelessness matters less Lonely physics, national purpose This then is the purpose of purposelessness (and of eating less)! We will live with the question What was our purpose? If we are not at home in the world, contributing purpose, we lose our desire to stay here—and we die The men who left the machine have started their own business, a new endeavor by which they will keep warm and purposeful You go the way of an unknown soldier, unable to assess the purpose of the battle Let Greece then know my purpose I retain, nor vex with new treaties my peace in vain And shake the purpose of my soul no more
0
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Out of Emptiness
Purposes as incomprehensible and wonderful as these purposes Either you had no purpose or the purpose is beyond the end The purpose of sitting is not to be satisfied or satiated Because the timepiece not only serves a purpose, it is adapted to that purpose Except it was a secret purpose The world is a mental activity, a dream of souls, without foundation, purpose, weight or shape People in collective idleness are even more repellent than when purpose motivates them God, glass, my townspeople! For what purpose? His purpose and mine is to catch photons and store them in our bones Lately, as have you, I have thought about our war and its purpose To have a season for every purpose, Ecclesiastes was right about that Names of plants, languages of mammals, purposes of insects, placement of rocks My friend who is counselor to kings and presidents never lacks purpose To what purpose, April, do you return again? Not to say there is no purpose necessarily, I just don’t immediately get it Stately purposes, valor in battle, glorious annals of army and fleet, death for the right cause Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose, protect the young from the janjaweed, the crop from the **** The knight, the penitent misses last assessment of life’s purpose, babbling for God to appear I mean your entire purpose should be living, you must take living seriously Sleep with a purpose Or lose all purpose beyond ****** child *** and food hoarding Counting is associated with primitive forms of writing, that is the purpose of poetry The purpose of school is to introduce us to the world’s innumerable wonders Their corners sharp, their lines exact, as if their purpose was to show the plane geometry of snow That’s when everything becomes clear, purpose v. purposelessness matters less Lonely physics, national purpose This then is the purpose of purposelessness (and of eating less)! We will live with the question What was our purpose? If we are not at home in the world, contributing purpose, we lose our desire to stay here—and we die The men who left the machine have started their own business, a new endeavor by which they will keep warm and purposeful You go the way of an unknown soldier, unable to assess the purpose of the battle Let Greece then know my purpose I retain, nor vex with new treaties my peace in vain And shake the purpose of my soul no more
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49
Foggy morrows alluding to the rest of day, a grand mystery of what will be, enshrouded in mists mans mystery motivates, it calls upon our curiosity to investigate and pursue misty shadows lurking and lingering. What new mysteries shall be in this new day? What marvels may be obliged to see? Ah, this fabulous foggy morrow holds such marvellous, deeply seeded, and enshrouded in curiosity, mysteries. Oh the Foggy Morrows such relevance to life I see in you, despite the foggy nature of your being. Tho’ only temporary, your mystery shall reveal things later becoming old, that is what you do, Oh dearest Foggy morrows.
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Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Foggy Morrows.
In the middle of Paradise is the forbidden fruit Tortured by the beauty; pained by the limitations A heart is touched, the feeling, a beautiful sensation A energy that moves and motivates The forbidden fruit; on the mind, continuous replay They say let it go; move on but it plays in your head like a favorite song If someone gives you life and makes you strong Do you want to be right and forever long
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Forbidden Fruit
The foundation of selfishness Has much to do with wanting and desiring And places a heavy focus on Thoughts of obtaining and acquiring. The instinctive ego takes control And motivations become self-centered. We're often heedless and unaware Of the shadowy place that we have entered. Naturally, self-centeredness Colors what we think and do; But NOT wanting and NOT desiring, On the other hand, can be selfish, too. Wanting: selfish? Not wanting: selfish? How--we might ask--does that make sense? NOT wanting may substantiate Our way of life at others' expense: Not wanting others to share the same freedoms; Not wanting others to have the same rights; Being silent when seeing injustice; Ignoring people's struggles and plights; Not acknowledging the efforts of others; Not desiring to work toward peace; Not wanting to know oneself; Not caring if hatreds cease; Being indifferent to the happiness of others; Not allowing others to progress; Not wanting to know how to fix Our planet once we've made a huge mess. NOT wanting in many ways Speaks as loudly as word or deed, And we become helpless victims Of our sad and varying levels of greed. What motivates us really? Do we know, or do we care? Is it safer NOT to know? It might seem so, but beware. - by Bob B
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
(Not) Wanting and (Not) Desiring
I remember relapsing on the floor of my mothers basement. I still remember what it was like to feel my conscious leave my body and float into a complete world of darkness. There were no pretty patterns or surreal hallucinations. The bright light that everyone spoke of was not there and I wondered if I was to blame for it being gone. And at the same time, I remember what it was like to wake up. To see my mother, father, brothers, sisters and friends standing over me. Crying helplessly wondering if I would ever be the same again. I remember what it was like to look into their eyes. And I remember what it was like to push every single one of them away. I remember what it was like to argue and walk out on the same people that said they would always be there. I remember because it was the only time in my life that I truly didn’t care. But here I am today. Trying to find the words to make you believe that I am a better man. Here I am, pulling truths from parts of me that I have not visited in years. But being transparent does not ******* me like it used to. It motivates me more than ever before. This shaky, raspy, unattractive voice of mine is all I have. And by any means, I am going to use it. There’s only a few other things I was put here to do. And if speaking even when I’m not spoken to somehow saves my life, then so be it. Because I remember what it was like to keep everything bottled up and how it got me absolutely nowhere. I remember being stepped on and squashed as if I did not matter. I remember what it was like to have no faith in myself because that was what everybody taught me to believe in. That it was wrong to step out of line if it meant losing friends or loved ones. And I believed them because I didn’t know anything different. I didn’t have any independence. I didn’t have anything to stand for. I was just a little kid, four-foot-something, trying to make it through another day. And for every night I prayed for tomorrow not to come to a God that I do not believe in, it always came. And even though this embodiment of doubt, that is my existence, has never been a breeze- I can only hope that it has been worth fighting for. That every day and every night I spent hungover or strung out on the floor did not go in vain. And all I can do now is work hard every single day. All I can do now is give every ounce of energy that I have to making a difference on people that are going through what I’ve been through; to give someone a voice that is comfortable and familiar. and despite the cliché, maybe even some hope. Because I remember what it was like to figure it out all on my own.
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Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
My Redemption.
I remember relapsing on the floor of my mothers basement. I still remember what it was like to feel my conscious leave my body and float into a complete world of darkness. There were no pretty patterns or surreal hallucinations. The bright light that everyone spoke of was not there and I wondered if I was to blame for it being gone. And at the same time, I remember what it was like to wake up. To see my mother, father, brothers, sisters and friends standing over me. Crying helplessly wondering if I would ever be the same again. I remember what it was like to look into their eyes. And I remember what it was like to push every single one of them away. I remember what it was like to argue and walk out on the same people that said they would always be there. I remember because it was the only time in my life that I truly didn’t care. But here I am today. Trying to find the words to make you believe that I am a better man. Here I am, pulling truths from parts of me that I have not visited in years. But being transparent does not ******* me like it used to. It motivates me more than ever before. This shaky, raspy, unattractive voice of mine is all I have. And by any means, I am going to use it. There’s only a few other things I was put here to do. And if speaking even when I’m not spoken to somehow saves my life, then so be it. Because I remember what it was like to keep everything bottled up and how it got me absolutely nowhere. I remember being stepped on and squashed as if I did not matter. I remember what it was like to have no faith in myself because that was what everybody taught me to believe in. That it was wrong to step out of line if it meant losing friends or loved ones. And I believed them because I didn’t know anything different. I didn’t have any independence. I didn’t have anything to stand for. I was just a little kid, four-foot-something, trying to make it through another day. And for every night I prayed for tomorrow not to come to a God that I do not believe in, it always came. And even though this embodiment of doubt, that is my existence, has never been a breeze- I can only hope that it has been worth fighting for. That every day and every night I spent hungover or strung out on the floor did not go in vain. And all I can do now is work hard every single day. All I can do now is give every ounce of energy that I have to making a difference on people that are going through what I’ve been through; to give someone a voice that is comfortable and familiar. and despite the cliché, maybe even some hope. Because I remember what it was like to figure it out all on my own.
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104
Almighty Jehovah God Sovereign Lord of the Universe Created the Earth and sky The Stars and the Moon Galaxies and Molecules The Ocean and the Mountains He created Mankind In his Image Jehovah God Created the Beginning Time Indefinite to Time Indefinite He created Life Everlasting He spoke through his Angels And made Righteous Laws Laws to be followed For Everlasting Life Jehovah God He is a Lover of Justice He is Vigorous in Power He is Holy He is Creative He has Divine Wisdom He is our Refuge He will Restore Us Jehovah God He is Humble He is Self-less He is Love He is Fair He is Merciful He is Patient He is Compassionate Jehovah God Father Almighty God Provided a Way Atonement Forgiveness Truth Life Love Jehovah God Gave his only Begotten Son A Ransom for our Sins For Everlasting Life Our Reigning King Christ Jesus Made in Perfection The Word of God Our Savior Jesus Christ The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived Lowly in Heart Brave as a Lion Healer of the Sick Wise Teacher Obedient Preacher of the Good News Jesus Christ An Example A Leader A Student He Compels Us He Motivates Us He Moves Us He Saves Us Jehovah God Has called to my Heart He knows my Mind He sees my Potential He knows my Sins He knows my Repentance He knows my Hope He knows my Faith Jehovah God In your Son Christ Jesus Name I am your Witness I love Your Word I will Follow I will Lead I will Love I will be an Example
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Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 6:21 AM UTC
God Has A Name
January 16th: I am running in circles. January 17th: Reality is just a figment of one's vivid imagination. January 18th: The exit of the co2 from my lungs, to my mouth, and then the atmosphere. Expand and contract my brain. Expanding is new found knowledge and contracting is the loss of knowledge. Thus, my intelegence is relative to the amount of gasses in my brain. January 19th: Secretly, you control me. January 20th: Over the next two hours, you slowly drift back to reality. The once sea bound boat is approaching land and, with each passing wave, you are coming closer to sobriety. January 21st: What is this love you speak of?   January 22nd: A numbing sensation has paralyzed my arms. I can feel a million little creatures with in me. While they crawl beneath my skin, they leave their path of serenity. The ecstasy, that races to my heart. To touch my blood with a soft kiss and slowly warm my frozen body. January 23rd: We will be forever hoping, forever wishing, and forever praying to find love. A feeling our primitive minds will never understand. In this age love will never be found because the passion that created us, has left this world.   January 24th: Sometimes I feel like: I am exiled by my own people, searching for another lost soul in this desecrated world. The only remnants I have of people are the skeletons of wanderers from long ago. Each lonely corpse I see I become more and more afraid. In fear, I run through this land of broken dreams. I am running in circles. I am lost. Back to where I began my quest I realize this land is hell and I am alone. In time I will soon become another lost soul. My desire to leave this place motivates me to keep walking. This keeps me sane. In the distance I see a figure shinning through my haze of hopelessness. Is this a hallucination? Or am I not alone in this world? January 25th: Sights are sounds and sounds are sights. January 26th: I am falling to apart trying to fix your broken heart. January 27th: **** and be ****** January 27th: The warmth of a fire can warm the coldest of hearts. January 28th: In the rain, I carry no disguises. January 29th - January 31st: I am relapsing
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Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC
Discoveries III. 01/16/10 - 01/31/10
January 16th: I am running in circles. January 17th: Reality is just a figment of one's vivid imagination. January 18th: The exit of the co2 from my lungs, to my mouth, and then the atmosphere. Expand and contract my brain. Expanding is new found knowledge and contracting is the loss of knowledge. Thus, my intelegence is relative to the amount of gasses in my brain. January 19th: Secretly, you control me. January 20th: Over the next two hours, you slowly drift back to reality. The once sea bound boat is approaching land and, with each passing wave, you are coming closer to sobriety. January 21st: What is this love you speak of?   January 22nd: A numbing sensation has paralyzed my arms. I can feel a million little creatures with in me. While they crawl beneath my skin, they leave their path of serenity. The ecstasy, that races to my heart. To touch my blood with a soft kiss and slowly warm my frozen body. January 23rd: We will be forever hoping, forever wishing, and forever praying to find love. A feeling our primitive minds will never understand. In this age love will never be found because the passion that created us, has left this world.   January 24th: Sometimes I feel like: I am exiled by my own people, searching for another lost soul in this desecrated world. The only remnants I have of people are the skeletons of wanderers from long ago. Each lonely corpse I see I become more and more afraid. In fear, I run through this land of broken dreams. I am running in circles. I am lost. Back to where I began my quest I realize this land is hell and I am alone. In time I will soon become another lost soul. My desire to leave this place motivates me to keep walking. This keeps me sane. In the distance I see a figure shinning through my haze of hopelessness. Is this a hallucination? Or am I not alone in this world? January 25th: Sights are sounds and sounds are sights. January 26th: I am falling to apart trying to fix your broken heart. January 27th: **** and be ****** January 27th: The warmth of a fire can warm the coldest of hearts. January 28th: In the rain, I carry no disguises. January 29th - January 31st: I am relapsing
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16
The FBI chief, Mr. Comey, was loved by Trump like his best ***** For he went around hintin' about emails and Clinton, making Trump fans excited and foamy. But then Comey provided reflection upon Trump aides and Russian connection. Trump did protest and howl, stamp his feet and cry foul, for the tide has turned since the election. Trump thinks Comey is guilty of slander, though his Hillary probe raised no dander. So I guess Trump's excuse is what's good for the goose simply does not apply to the gander! So why Donald Trump am I hounding through this verse and this poetic pounding? It's Trump's hypocrisy that so motivates me and we're used to it!... That's what's astounding!
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May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC
James Comey
My eyes weren't burned blind with hot oil I am not a brainwashed cult member I do not think ignorance is bliss And I see lies and truth as night and day Some people speak to me Like I've never walked outside my door As if the truth could **** me "But I'll tell you anyway" We've all heard that one before I know what's happening I know that I am not the only person you're seeing I know that you're vicious in your animalistic ways The animalism that society identifies as "manly" I'm sure others have received the text The phone call The words that make us feel needed The words that make me feel like I am doing something I want to do Even if I don't I know that you're not perfect I know that your mind is obsessive And compulsive And meticulous like neat stacks of paper Or freshly cut grass I still don't know how you value me As a person As an object As a heart As a brain It could be any of the listed above And even though you're not the perfect gentleman I understand that people aren't perfect I'm not blind to your mistakes No one is covering my ears Or hindering my senses The truth is right in front of me You are the truth People look at me As if I am an orphaned child A recent widow Still in denial because of the trauma That life has presented to us I know that you can be horrible Cruel and abusive At the same time I know you can make me feel like the only person who has ever rested in your arms And even if I'm not the only one I know I'm not the only one I accept it Because your presence makes me feel better about myself Your face motivates me to do well in all I do Your body encourages me to run for miles and do hundreds of lunges Maybe I'm using you just as much as you may be using me We're messed up and mortified and scarred "You can do better" they say "You deserve someone who will treat you like a princess because you're intellectual and pretty" What if I don't want that What if all I want is to complacently stay In a place that I don't necessarily belong But it feels right So I do And that's why they think I'm blind Senseless
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
Senseless
My eyes weren't burned blind with hot oil I am not a brainwashed cult member I do not think ignorance is bliss And I see lies and truth as night and day Some people speak to me Like I've never walked outside my door As if the truth could **** me "But I'll tell you anyway" We've all heard that one before I know what's happening I know that I am not the only person you're seeing I know that you're vicious in your animalistic ways The animalism that society identifies as "manly" I'm sure others have received the text The phone call The words that make us feel needed The words that make me feel like I am doing something I want to do Even if I don't I know that you're not perfect I know that your mind is obsessive And compulsive And meticulous like neat stacks of paper Or freshly cut grass I still don't know how you value me As a person As an object As a heart As a brain It could be any of the listed above And even though you're not the perfect gentleman I understand that people aren't perfect I'm not blind to your mistakes No one is covering my ears Or hindering my senses The truth is right in front of me You are the truth People look at me As if I am an orphaned child A recent widow Still in denial because of the trauma That life has presented to us I know that you can be horrible Cruel and abusive At the same time I know you can make me feel like the only person who has ever rested in your arms And even if I'm not the only one I know I'm not the only one I accept it Because your presence makes me feel better about myself Your face motivates me to do well in all I do Your body encourages me to run for miles and do hundreds of lunges Maybe I'm using you just as much as you may be using me We're messed up and mortified and scarred "You can do better" they say "You deserve someone who will treat you like a princess because you're intellectual and pretty" What if I don't want that What if all I want is to complacently stay In a place that I don't necessarily belong But it feels right So I do And that's why they think I'm blind Senseless
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62
Am made of black Am a true symbol of a black Strong Powerful Black is independent Black is determined Black is original never fades Black remains consistent forever Am made of black Black is an attitude Black is beautiful Black is love Black don't discriminate Black accepts you for who you are Irrespective of your race,color and religion Am made of black Black is patient Black is caring Black is accommodating Black is brilliant Black is intelligent Am made of black Black lives with you Black inspires you Black motivates you Black is a leader not a ruler (Nelson mandela) Black is an activist(martin luther king Jr) Black is a rapper(2pac) Black is a sprinter(Usan Bolt) Black is a footballer(George Weah Black is a singer(Akon) Black is a poet(Me and myself) Black is a friend(Akanbi Olawale) We are blacks we are more Black is made of more I am made of more I am original I am beautiful I am powerful I am attractive I am charming -----do you know why? Because am made of black... Am made of more ...
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
AM MADE OF BLACK
Love is hurt wrapped in a beautiful disguise Love is lies   Stalks your soul   Steals your breathe Fills you with false hope It keeps secrets you never know till it's to late Seldom does it stay Whether we mean it or not We are taught it's what you say If **** you came first then guess what Love is wanted as much as it's needed Some abuse it While others try to control it Ignorant ones believe its just for straight ones   I seen women sell it because men buy it   Close your eyes to long she'll be gone to find it Then be dishonest about it     Makes smart ones stupid Turns good ones bad Makes you smile then want to die in the blink of an eye   Its cruel and unfair Takes and steals Makes some run back to exes Turning currents into exes Making room for a friend to become your replacement Leaving love to be a sign That sign reads exit   May change everyday It can fade with time It laughs then cries or cries then laughs It can go either way   The most powerful drug     We crave it   Its strong but not undefeated Fills the hole our heart may have It's unexplainable Its hard to hold on to Love is magic Love is attractive Can be tragic Can't be taught You can see it without hearing it     Love heals and motivates Love Its the greatest thing
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Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
Love is...
Many hats on my head, Many titles to claim, I find it fulfilling to be, Everything that motivates me. One day I’m a fireman, Another day I am a jailer, This day I’m a poet, Tomorrow I’ll be a mailer. What’s funny is this, A name and a shield, Is merely a buck for a meal, My ignorance is so bliss. These paths are not me, They are merely a guide, For me to find whomever is me, On a security guard’s salary. To make films or to weep, To keep jails or to sleep, To fight fires or to leap, Into this pen of little sheep. Why is it that I, Aim to be that guy, Who’s career should imply, That I’m “something” till I die? An artist, An actor, An experiment of all factors, I try hard to be somebody, When I’m already my own everybody. I’m exactly what I need to be, In this world of all these faces, Masks grow tight around these cheeks, Why aspire to climb mountains, And reach such heightening places? I’m a detective one day, An electrician by night, A silly little dreamer, Always ready to take on flight. I’ll pilot this aircraft, And spread my wings a’sailing, Without prejudice or hesitation, I may not always succeed, But I’m never failing.
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Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 12:20 AM UTC
Faces
Because of you, I can say what's on my mind, laugh at myself and put a smile on a sad face. I do the impossible things with the right mind set. Because of you, I became better. Your inspiration motivates and propels me beyond the limits. Because of you I became a superman doing all kinds of amazing and supernatural tremendously incredible great things with giant strides.   Because of you i can climb all the hills and mountains like the Spiderman. Because you are by my side I became more than a conquerer. Positivity became my ally and generates me to a spiritual high. Because of you, I know everything is working the way they should. And for that my heart is so grateful. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
BECAUSE OF YOU
I thought when I realized what made me happy, what motivates me to work hard I could have peace. Maybe it would make me better having this realization. I pictured myself actually working hard and feeling motivated to something before 9 o'clock at night. But then I didn't. Why didn't I? Why does it seem so hard for me? It really isn't. Finding out that I'm kind of just a disappointment because of my love for cramming my life with as much as I can didn't really help either. I don't understand how it could be bad. It just means I fill all that wasted time with not necessarily productive things, but certainly nothing bad. Then, when I'm done at 9, it's productive time. It's perfect! for me... But not so much when 9 o'clock doesn't roll around until breakfast or just before the bell rings. And I guess not so much when I let them down, even though I still don't understand why. Is that ignorance? Like a puppy dragging mud through the house. Never truly understanding why it's so bad cause he just went out to *** and came back in. Only learning through the scolding looks and raised voices that he should avoid it, not because he agrees with his parents and thinks it's wrong. It doesn't really even matter though. The passion seems to be gone either way so why not cave in and learn to wipe my paws before I step in the door. But I'm still searching. My passion, my motivation, my strive, they're all there just waiting, waiting for me to find them. So I keep searching. I will find them.
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
Searching
I thought when I realized what made me happy, what motivates me to work hard I could have peace. Maybe it would make me better having this realization. I pictured myself actually working hard and feeling motivated to something before 9 o'clock at night. But then I didn't. Why didn't I? Why does it seem so hard for me? It really isn't. Finding out that I'm kind of just a disappointment because of my love for cramming my life with as much as I can didn't really help either. I don't understand how it could be bad. It just means I fill all that wasted time with not necessarily productive things, but certainly nothing bad. Then, when I'm done at 9, it's productive time. It's perfect! for me... But not so much when 9 o'clock doesn't roll around until breakfast or just before the bell rings. And I guess not so much when I let them down, even though I still don't understand why. Is that ignorance? Like a puppy dragging mud through the house. Never truly understanding why it's so bad cause he just went out to *** and came back in. Only learning through the scolding looks and raised voices that he should avoid it, not because he agrees with his parents and thinks it's wrong. It doesn't really even matter though. The passion seems to be gone either way so why not cave in and learn to wipe my paws before I step in the door. But I'm still searching. My passion, my motivation, my strive, they're all there just waiting, waiting for me to find them. So I keep searching. I will find them.
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DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, so grateful for all this overwhelming support--this motivates me to write even more--never thought people would even indulge what I write--thank you all so much <:<:<:<:<: again you haunt again you prey target my dreams on hopes of disarray you know what that I like seem to shield my tears from nights drunk on a hell I feel I pleasurably delight but what I don't that biting hungover on the following bright ------ravenfeels
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Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 4:25 PM UTC
How Much Longer???
Mother is a word with no description But I will try to describe her through the power of inscription I'll live up to the name 'son' with chivalry and bravery To do anything otherwise would be emotional slavery Mother is the one I go to when I feel weak Every night before bed she gives me a kiss on the cheek She motivates me to always do well Letting mom down would send me to hell Mother taught me to treat women with respect Mother taught me to always expect Nothing but the best from myself and others I couldn't possibly ask for a better mother She is always there when I need a helping hand She inspired me to make a difference in this dying land She taught me to always 'pay it forward' If I fall a step back, take two leaps forward Mother is the reason I work hard Because of my mother, I always stand guard A second protector next to my dad I live lawful good, and do best not to act bad I would take a bullet for Mom Except then I'd be so sad to be gone My mom and I don't always get along But for her I'll do my very best to be strong I love you Mother, you're my best friend I'll love you until the very end I'll surely be devastated once you are gone But I will forever be honored to call you my Mom.
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Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Mother
What is it, that really stops you, from inviting Christ into your heart? Are you afraid of the responsibilities or opportunities that can be imparted? Have you taken quality time to thank God, for the many blessings you’ve received? How do you describe your current lifestyle- living victoriously or partially relieved? Where are you placing your trust each day? Do you posses false hope in World systems, or Hope in the principles of The Holy Word? Where are you searching for the valuable gems that will sustain your entire, life journey? Are you energized with a real, Christian verve that motivates your ongoing actions of Faith, from knowing The Lord, Whom you daily serve? Before it’s too late, open your heart to Him. Take personal stock, look back and thank Him. Open your eyes, look around and serve Him. Look ahead via His Spirit and trust… in Him. . . . Author Notes Inspired by: Rev 3:20; Psa 95:2-3; Gal; 3:6-9; John 12:26; Rom 1:18-20 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
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Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
Poem: Invite, Thank, Trust and Serve