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"mybe" poems
I found my pleasure in writing poems. But technology has tought me how to type. But today i have decided to go back to my old roots. I write this in pain, Tryibg to wipe away all the opressions that is behind technology. I just want to vanish into the channel of my thoughts. Mybe i might come back happy once again.
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Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
Writing
Good mood music is what's needed  With lots of hope on the side Mad dog mybe a peaceful chap Reflected on wars that have been fort Mad dog might fight for peace with verbal exchange Good mood music is what's needed With lots of hope on the side Trumpy too may have changed his spots Don't believe the hype might be his fight Fairness equality trumps mantra Good mood music is what's needed With lots of hope on the side Billions might be invested in health care for all Trillions donated to shelter all  Minions with millions feeding the poor Good mood music is what's needed With lots of hope on the side Trumpy likes our planet green Investing in alternative  technology  Changing the climate for the better Good mood music with  lashings of hope and maybe fingers crossed  Trumpy and his crew  Rule fair making America great again
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Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
Good mood music
Feels like... I'm the black dot Amongst the white Feels like... I'm the only dull star Shining at night Feels like... People can't see me When their get into contact with my presence They just lose sight It also feels like... I'm in a glass at the museum And people are watching me They say I'm unique They say I'm exclusive Like the clothes at a boutique But I Don't have that kind of mindset I'm different And all I think about Is how am I going to stand out Its like my mind Is a magnet that attracts critics Then it passes it to the heart From the hert to the body Making me numb As a whole Acting like I don't care But my ears are wide open Er drum taking all those vocal vibrations Sending them to the mind,body and soul Exactly in that order But hey This is life Lord knows why he made me like this Mybe I'll be something big But at the moment I need to dig
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Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
Outcast
How do you write love? LOVE id say like that. or perhaps its when a little brother grows older and he still lets you call him little brother as he stands, stature climbing over yours or perhaps its in a little sisters toothless grin,or dimpled chin and silly giggles and sleepy eyes of perhaps in a lovers promise always and forever kissing, hugging, snuggling perhaps maybe in a mothers arms in her will, in her charm found amoung her asperations in place of a new found fasination a babies cry or maybe writing love, says it all L-O-V-E or maybe thats how you write love mybe just letters with emplied meaning, or all the above
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Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
write love
Sometimes life surprises you you go from pink and sparkly to black from this girly girl to a tomish boyish thing you go from society to individual or atleast on your journey you really don't know what will pop up next what challenge who you'll face what you'll face its scary but exciting at the same time like... you could become a millionaire tommorow you could meet your fave celeb you may finally find your answer to all your problems like... life is that roller coaster that your so mutherfucking excited to ride but them it starts up and your scared as hell and you dont know *** to expect from it it may go down mybe to the left or upside down like you don't ******* know but once the twist is over you relax and realize it was nothing after all but in life we can't control a lot of things like people things just bound to happen to us ....life but i'm practicing patience positivity and faith because that is all.....
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Poem I wrote in my moment
Endless wispers make hast Yet to soon disapear the air that encompassed me Suddenly gets seize away. And I left breathless. NEEDless to say they steal my light And leave me enclosed in darkness My melody,my piano they steal and misuse. Eager for a moments worth of Your time. They know not how lucky they are To receive even an ounce of YOUR time. They are the luckiest people in the world, they have it seems more of Your time than I. They abuse and detriment Your time Mybe one day I'll receive all of your TIME So I wait in vain untill that time comes. Ill just grab a ticket and get in line. Perhaps one day your piano will play just for me. Only me. But that is a selfish thought.
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Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
I NEED YOUR TIME
Think. Yes, think about this question. Do women of the world needs a man book to advise them? When they had a mother. Who can advise them better? A player's can place himself in your shoes. And offer all his personal views. Except, they using themselves as the tool. Or writing upon the things they use to do. In songs written about love affairs. It was always the mom advising them. Mama said there'll be days like this. Or you can't hurry love. Even, to her son she advised him to shop around. So, what can a book perpective from a man do for them? If you need a man's view. Then speak to your dad. He know the game. He know the schemes. And would be enraged if you hurt his daughter. Now, this a father. Who doesn't have to write a book? Mybe, it's just me. Love advices comes better from someone with truth. And who should know better? Then those that gave vision to you.
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Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Think About It.
Today I brought a new computer it's small like me, it like me has a powerful CPU on top of all, the electircal things mybe it will make me bright but unlike me it cannot walk about the internet is it's only access to this world of ours it has no eyes, unlike me seeing thing's in black and white will all it wil be it wil not see pain, or feel it enclosed in it's shiny silver case so for me my new computer is just a tool in which I work through.
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
My computer and me!
A greater cause, means a better life. Or atleast so they voice. But how do you fight for what is right; when all you dispose of is knife? I ask myself who is my greatest enemy? Is it me, myslef, or I? Mybe all I need is a remedy. To make all the wrong rectify. I know that all of what I am capabe of holding is a weapon. But how do you use such a thing when you can't tell the difference between your foe and your allies? All I see are demons who seem to have come from the heart of heaven. But afetr all, isn't that everybodies homeland. Even the devil knows all of its alleys. But mybe weapons as deadly as they can be, are the more or less something like you and me. Mybe they weren't found for the unique cause of killing. Pedro Reyes made weapon in art fullfilling. What was war's greatest tool. Has now become harmony's moor. What was used in fights caused by sheer unreason. Has now brought all people even. All those cries, all those tries. And I still can't realize: what on earth can possibly be my cause.
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Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 4:24 PM UTC
The Cause Of A Weapon Named Me
i touch yer skin; you touch my face; we broke our hearts in ev'ry place. my ev'ry dream: you felt them too. my ev'ry bone feels underused. technicolour dream, black 'n white scream. it used to be naught but primary. I touch yer skin; you touch my face. you break my awe in ev'ry place. my limbo love: i carry thee as to Valhalla you carry me. i touch yer skin; you touch my face you tie my heart in filigree lace. we used them past biweekly grace my sleepless love yr shattered heart my shattered face. round'n'round we doth embrace. maybe this time we keep the pace. mybe you won't break my filigree lace.
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Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
equilibrium
Life as I knew it ain't no more,its way too different,i just woke up to a whole new reality. Am still perplexed,too afraid to embrace the facts. How long have I been lost in this illusion!!have I been gone for that long or mybe you were dieing for me to be gone So that you cannot miss me anymore,I bet you never did anyway. I rely loved us!! But we just couldn't make sense anymore Pathetic I
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
picking up_
am looking for black one                        actualy i am not in her way                   but she always come in my way           mybe i've been cassed a black speel     so that i can not avoid         i wonder if God will support.
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Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 11:08 AM UTC
black angel
I need to be there at five ten (17:10) It won't be 'the worst' if I were to be late by a minute or so, just disappointed looks and silent judgment. Perhaps they won't even notice. And anyway, five ten (17:10) is in five hours. I need to be at the bus stop at five (17:00), it's a five, maybe eight, minutes drive and I should be there by five five (17:05) ,mybe five eight (17:08), at any rate I'll be there before five ten (17:10). It takes me ten minutes to get dressed so I better set my alarm to four thirty (16:30), just to be safe. So now I have five hours to myself before I need to get ready. I can watch tv on my computer, or bake cookies. I have so much time! ...maybe not baking. There are three more hours until my alarm rings. Wait, did I set it right? Yes. Maybe I should give myself more time to organize, you never know what can happen! Four twenty (16:20) it is. It's two hours until I have to get ready and I keep glancing at the clock in the corner or my computer. I'll just put on the clothes I need, get out of the comfort of my pajamas, into my tight clothes. The alarm rings but I'm already dressed, my water bottle filled, my wallet in my purse, everything is where it should be. I set my alarm again: It's a minute or so of walking to the bus stop and I need to be there by five sharp (17:00). I set my alarm to five minutes to five (16:55). There's half an hour before I need to go. The show is still running but I've stopped watching forever ago. What if there won't be a bathroom there? I should go to the bathroom now. Well that only took four minutes, I have twenty six more to burn. I'm pacing in my room, the computer put away. What if I'll need to *** there? Great now I need to *** again and I've already peed five minutes ago. I better get going. I've been waiting for the bus for ten minutes when the alarm rang. Fifteen minutes of waiting for the bus in the scorching sun, wiping away sweat like drops of anxious thoughts, is fine. It's normal, right? I don't have time to worry about it. It's better than the feeling of the stress on my skin, pushing on my organs until I suffocate. It's five (17:00) and the bus still hasn't arrived. It's fine. It's FINE. It's F I N E. Two minutes later I'm sitting on the bus, waiting for my stop. Chest heaving, I step back into the street, thanking the driver goodbye. I don't see anyone. This is where we're supposed to meet, right? Yes, definitely. It's today, right? This hour? Yes and yes. Oh, I'm just the first one here.
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Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC
Canceling Plans Is So Much Fun
I need to be there at five ten (17:10) It won't be 'the worst' if I were to be late by a minute or so, just disappointed looks and silent judgment. Perhaps they won't even notice. And anyway, five ten (17:10) is in five hours. I need to be at the bus stop at five (17:00), it's a five, maybe eight, minutes drive and I should be there by five five (17:05) ,mybe five eight (17:08), at any rate I'll be there before five ten (17:10). It takes me ten minutes to get dressed so I better set my alarm to four thirty (16:30), just to be safe. So now I have five hours to myself before I need to get ready. I can watch tv on my computer, or bake cookies. I have so much time! ...maybe not baking. There are three more hours until my alarm rings. Wait, did I set it right? Yes. Maybe I should give myself more time to organize, you never know what can happen! Four twenty (16:20) it is. It's two hours until I have to get ready and I keep glancing at the clock in the corner or my computer. I'll just put on the clothes I need, get out of the comfort of my pajamas, into my tight clothes. The alarm rings but I'm already dressed, my water bottle filled, my wallet in my purse, everything is where it should be. I set my alarm again: It's a minute or so of walking to the bus stop and I need to be there by five sharp (17:00). I set my alarm to five minutes to five (16:55). There's half an hour before I need to go. The show is still running but I've stopped watching forever ago. What if there won't be a bathroom there? I should go to the bathroom now. Well that only took four minutes, I have twenty six more to burn. I'm pacing in my room, the computer put away. What if I'll need to *** there? Great now I need to *** again and I've already peed five minutes ago. I better get going. I've been waiting for the bus for ten minutes when the alarm rang. Fifteen minutes of waiting for the bus in the scorching sun, wiping away sweat like drops of anxious thoughts, is fine. It's normal, right? I don't have time to worry about it. It's better than the feeling of the stress on my skin, pushing on my organs until I suffocate. It's five (17:00) and the bus still hasn't arrived. It's fine. It's FINE. It's F I N E. Two minutes later I'm sitting on the bus, waiting for my stop. Chest heaving, I step back into the street, thanking the driver goodbye. I don't see anyone. This is where we're supposed to meet, right? Yes, definitely. It's today, right? This hour? Yes and yes. Oh, I'm just the first one here.
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