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"naysayer" poems
O Tulip Tree, Towering titan true, A fond memory I have Of splendorous ventures long ago! O Tulip Tree, Timid and taciturn, I remember when you, Paragon of the forest, Stood tall with power And eclipsed the noontime sun! O Tulip Tree, Tallest tree that be, I recall when you, Pillar of perfection, Were as mammoth in my youth As you are this day! O Tulip Tree, Tremendous yet tender king, I pray for you, Noble giant, That envious naysayer And usurper alike Stay their distance From your domain! And when the hour is nigh, O Tulip Tree, I shall stand tall with pride Between these vile fiends As you taught me to long ago!
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Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 10:04 PM UTC
A Titan's Ballad
Plead on naysayer Like the pride of a mouth breather Calloused like the fringe of a broken guard rail You're sharp, and your halfwit isn't enough to keep a light lit But you're clever and you're under my skin with your blood ***** Have you gotten close enough to check my pulse yet? Tell me what it says, I'm sure it's morse code for something Because It's been speaking to me in languages I've never heard of, but based on the hurt I've taken bets Risky guesses better then what the wind lets If I let go it'd take me back to limbo Where the rats and the people scurry all the same, it'd take me somewhere, I don't know I've let you pull me apart to climb inside to take a tour of my heart To let you punch me so hard, something on the other side would come out as a show of art Like a line of blow to the nose, the rows of the pews awe align To make a sound so hurtful, not even your father would turn to give an eye Embarrassed I let you tear me apart, just because I wanted to know what was inside I can't say a word, but two, and all they are is good bye
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Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
When 'goodbye' Sounds Sarcastic
To sleep, my mind impounded, My heartbeats, bass, lowly-sounded, Each beat, a note upon mine ticking meter. An unfamiliar feminine voice, not hers, poses, Questioning noises, issued from a blackened figure. This human-shaped metronome, A singular inquisitor, In rhythm, but not in rhyme, Gravely announces repeatedly, T'is your time, t'is your time, Each pronouncement, Spoken n'spiked distinctly: *"Your prose now ended, last-gentled sweetly."* Wondering still, is it just sleep or truly death, This forlorn eve, to go, to meet and greet, Without having said my finale prayer. Unprepared, thus with unaccustomed flair, "Unfair" doth me protest, a newly-minted naysayer, My book incomplete, black-brother frere! If death indeed you be, my fellow cloaked-rider, Then make me a one-last-time composer. Let me whisper once more inside her, A last poem of the greatest brevity, But of the greatest import, laden heavy! Good bye, my love, goodbye.... This closing writ, my finest ever...
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Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
A last poem of the greatest brevity
Time to stop judging Best to confess Hiding behind your SOS Feelings of others you ignore Drama and chaos you adore With your moralistic writes Acerbic word fights Sarcastic bites... Why can't you be nice? Instead, you play the part fully As the intellectual bully Disregarding the tears Throwing misspelled word spears Wielding grammar hammers Pouncing when someone stammers Hey, Bro! Don't you even know What time it is? Time to stop judging Best to confess Hiding behind your SOS Feelings of others you ignore Drama and chaos you adore With your moralistic writes Acerbic word fights Sarcastic bites... Why can't you be nice? You say you're a godly player But you're really a Sibboleth slayer, An ill will conveyor, Grand total naysayer, Once you went away but then came back Unbelievable, you're even more whack! Hey, Bro! Don't you really know What time it is? Time to stop judging Best to confess Hiding behind your SOS Feelings of others you ignore Drama and chaos you adore With your moralistic writes Acerbic word fights Sarcastic bites... Why can't you be nice? TONEY OUT - BOOM!
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Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 11:21 AM UTC
Toney Out - Boom
HEY.!!!Yes Do.you think I really give a **** Do you think  so. Press the valve stem please. Your head has gone all twisted. Much more to life than Napoleon's cocked hat,and pocket billiards. Little curl mid forehead. You are nanite's sigh below expired. Really ?. Take it in.stride my friend. See Naysayer for hire in the funny papers. Place him behind you to the right To keep away.the vapours
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Note to.. the ..Remote
This isn’t so much giving up As it is the shedding of weight He kneels down in a bedroom that isn’t his He sleeps on borrowed furniture Elbows on the edge of a twin bed He wishes there was a body there Any body There are some things he needs to let go There is always going to be a girl with your heart And your veins wrapped around her fingers Curling up her arms Like vines on a trellis Let her go He knows that being good looking is 20 percent physical The rest is all you Sometimes weird things make him sad That’s cool Anything your body does without your permission Is natural You’re human Get over it Get over The cancerous residuals And the fear of silence Between two people When all you want to do is stare Stare if you want to Be charming He knows he can be charming If he smiles right If remembers to be honest Be honest with me Lonely boy Fearful stranger to self Little lover of the things that get left behind Admire the broken patchwork of your poetry You are not a naysayer You are a yes man Yes Hesitant kisses Yes Knee buckle trembles Yes Loving with the lights on With the fire burning Say yes to the breaking You are not being broken You are refining your badly built artwork Molding your eyes less somber Do not be somber sweet child Stand like gravity is your slave Bow down to nothing Unless you want to There are some things that require kneeling Your knees are sacred Use them only to make things better To show honor To shed weight He knows this is not giving up As much as it is shedding enough weight So he can stand again
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Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
Letting The Weight Fall Off
This isn’t so much giving up As it is the shedding of weight He kneels down in a bedroom that isn’t his He sleeps on borrowed furniture Elbows on the edge of a twin bed He wishes there was a body there Any body There are some things he needs to let go There is always going to be a girl with your heart And your veins wrapped around her fingers Curling up her arms Like vines on a trellis Let her go He knows that being good looking is 20 percent physical The rest is all you Sometimes weird things make him sad That’s cool Anything your body does without your permission Is natural You’re human Get over it Get over The cancerous residuals And the fear of silence Between two people When all you want to do is stare Stare if you want to Be charming He knows he can be charming If he smiles right If remembers to be honest Be honest with me Lonely boy Fearful stranger to self Little lover of the things that get left behind Admire the broken patchwork of your poetry You are not a naysayer You are a yes man Yes Hesitant kisses Yes Knee buckle trembles Yes Loving with the lights on With the fire burning Say yes to the breaking You are not being broken You are refining your badly built artwork Molding your eyes less somber Do not be somber sweet child Stand like gravity is your slave Bow down to nothing Unless you want to There are some things that require kneeling Your knees are sacred Use them only to make things better To show honor To shed weight He knows this is not giving up As much as it is shedding enough weight So he can stand again
Continue reading...
61
There you go, breaking my heart, There you go, tearing me apart. Accusing me of an uncommitted sin, Celebrating,over me, your imaginary win. With a whole heart, I had loved you, We were always one, now you separated us in two. You ousted me from your heart, saying the love was an illusion , Were you speaking of the same love, which was once unconditional? There you go. leaving me alone, There you go, reasons now unknown. Without uttering a word from your lips, Leaving me to bear the silence's whips. Breaking the first rule of our love, the trust in it, There , on the mighty throne of betrayal, you sit. And you assume yourself as the one who was betrayed, By the lady who made you her everything, the lady, whom you now degrade. There you go, without any answers, There you go, changing into a naysayer. Releasing me , at last , of our shared love, Of all the sadness, smiles, hope and woes.
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 7:11 AM UTC
There You Go
Are you bored with yourself? Too much free time, it seems Judgmental joker, you! Thinking of your agonized dreams Don't you wish that just one time You had a pleasant thought Really trying oh so hard Break free of the web which you're caught Insignificant details blur your view Try to see the rest Forget about what you think is best And feel what others deem as true In time you will grow up Til then, go on and on and on With your contradicting faceless qualm And realize before the storm is calm Probably a warning - Quit before you end up mourning The loss of yourself Taken off a pedestal and put instead on a shelf
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Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 3:32 AM UTC
The naysayer
Precipice hanging Red rock dwellings Hiding under the sandpine desert Freeing me in the process Tribal seeking Falcon knowledge to leadeth me down road highway Noones way But the freeway Riding the cool gypsie wave Moral decay hath abounded me With the naysayer's and no bringers Wolves cometh by swarms Mastered by scorn They scorn another with boiling hot heat.... Trampling feet.. Dance to their own tune, No rhythm and blues But jazz gone punk!!!! Raccoon turned skunks On lonesome highway to hell...
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Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
Highway to hades...
i Confectionery amour', quiet peaceful girl, flower haired gem Whilst we maketh love to the old spinning record, eyes content; The moon to leadeth ourn feet, bathed in chocolate fountain, We prance as freely Galloper's, thither the desert, cool mountain ii I'll meeteth thee at the playground, inked in ourn red blotch, No ticking tumultuous hand, to ruin ourn plan's, none to watch; A private invitation, a rosey petal to surrender thine oath and vow, a seeded rightful city, conversation open and aroused iii Charlatan's to be naysayer's, exactly as the rest hath becometh, Ourn cloak's to be as spiritual coat's, dashing in none repugnance The waterside to be ourn resting residence, the pasture plain's to awaken ourn brain's, as we shalt be marksmen of lass and lad. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry
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Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Lass and lad twain
Within the realm of circumstance You are a slave To occurrences, a victim Of probability, A naysayer to God, You speak prayers to chance, Live thanklessly, not counting The billions Of tiny blessings, ignorant To the little miracles, Raindrops on pavement, The soundtrack In your all-seeing eyes, accidental, A statistic, a probability, As a blind man getting soaked, Wanders home, Happy for the shower, Anticipating dry clothes, Smells smoke, And he knows, A hundred percent certain, Eight blocks before he arrives At the front door Blocked off by red trucks and news reporters, That the fire is his own, And he is thankful For the symphony, Grateful for his bones, Glad this occured (it's all in the plan, NOTHING happens at random) And he never stops, Smiling Because he knows he's not alone
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Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
All in the plan
If you only ever get a glance at one shot at fiery heaven laughter don't just sit there on your *** thinking now isn't the right time time is relative so all you have is now right now so crack a naysayer in their pearly yellows because walking around zombified through fields of green and seas of brown is only one razor blade away from suicide and I don't want to be insensitive (yes I do) but if you walk along the easy road you'll find only cowards get the hell up put some ******* pace in your step drink a gallon of gasoline, eat a match, and explode it's the only way they'll ever see you
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
Explode
My father who art in heaven May he be also a masterpiece Like eleven May my main man also join the skies That part the seas like milky lights. May my man bring with him me As a tourist of the nightlife. Wife me up and hold me tight Like the stars cling onto the duly skies. May my main man be the mainest of them all Sure a little mean isn’t bad at all Nay he never become a Mayfair sayer Or a naysayer to his wife’s call. Today I call upon thee To help me free fall. Tall and fully In love with you truly You are my one and only all.
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Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
My Man
Before I left today, I looked in the mirror. It wasn’t a look of admiration It was a look of fear Do I look good enough today? I asked before I walked out the door. I don’t what to say I’ve done this before I’m saddened that I have to do this. I’m always afraid there is one flaw that I’ll miss. Society is so twisted The problems with it are too numerous to even be listed. We complain that the skinny girls are too tiny And that the big girls need to lose some weight We’ve all been taught that we have to hate. I despise having to look in the mirror and worry about what to wear Or how to fix my hair I’m the same person whether I’m wearing makeup or not. But without it I worry about all the disgusted glances I’ll be shot. No one ever worries about what’s within We only care about judging who’s too thin, Or who’s got the double chin. The definition of beauty is up to us. Before we become a naysayer We should break through to the inner layer It’s our decision We all just need to realize that we need to adjust our vision.
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Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
Revision
Here's to the untouched, the naysayer virgins, the believers, dreamers and bright eye beamers. The poets with clouds in their shoes Walking on gusts of autumn airs. Humming the tune of a new idea And sparking the wick of inspiration. Here's to the inventors, the birthers of thought the can dos, will dos and get er dones Brains in their pencils, cascading onto the page, Blueprints blotting out Black splotches in their lives. Heres to the musicians, The beat makers, The Chance takers, love makers and feeling creators Chanting the tune of tolerance, Singing the ugly untouched image Composing the stuff of life. Heres to the artists, The men and women Still starry eyed with wonder, The backbone of humanity. Heres to you.
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Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
Here's to you
dont denigrate the naysayer for saying what he sees while you may not believe your eyes belief is not to be believed nothing real needs proving but everything real can be there is no need for blind devotion when with your eyes open you simply see
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC
realise
Negative people with naysaying notions are sad and unhappy with themselves. they suffer inside with sorrow.   When we look beyond their pain, we see strong roots of fear; the fear of not being loved, of  being disrespected.   To them, the world is a dangerous place. How can we best deal with their despondency? We start by responding with kindheartedness We take responsibility for our own happiness. We manifest and role model positivity.   As we practice these behaviors, we obtain humility. That we find it difficult to deal with others’ negativity suggests there is a seed of reluctance within us. Realizing that we must accept our own skepticism, We are free to gain the understanding and compassion   we need to create emotional maturity.
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Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
A Ballad for the Naysayer
I take in the sound, BANG! execution style. one less naysayer.
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Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 4:53 PM UTC
-
Naysayer, Game player, Delayer, Betrayer, Best beware, Without a prayer...
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
ers... (10W)
Our forever is built on, A temporary palace, With paper-thin walls, Our bed a foam mattress. Our forever is sprawled across, The stained carpeted floor, Beneath our ***** laundry, Messes we choose to ignore. Our forever is cracked into, Every omelet and French toast, Served with a glass of cold juice, And kisses on the nose. Our forever is written on, Every inch of your midnight skin, Each stubble and razor bump like Braille, A love language I've never seen. Our forever is tested, By time zones and distance, Will our palace walls crumble, Or stand in defiance? Our forever is put on trial, By people who shouldn't bother, A xenophobic aunt, And an uncle who's a pastor. Our forever is cursed, By a father's daily prayer, Wrapped in his own infidelity, The quiet naysayer. Our forever is assembled, From sticks and stones hurled at us, Will it endure hurricanes and haters, Or is it just a temporary palace?
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Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
Palace
What is my pride? I'm a Baha'i, I study math and physics, and I study martial arts. Then this is where people may hurt me the most. They will make my dimension into a lie, contradict what I know so well. A shove or a push, even a slap or hit only affects my body. Hurting my feelings by making me feel unloved, that is only my mammalian brain. But defying my reason and insight - this is where I am most weak. To call my religion a plan of the Illuminati, by calling my science untrue, by saying I don't know anything of martial arts. This is where the ego of the world now dwells: within the reasoning mind. This is where my testing will take place: letting go of knowledge to meet the words of the naysayer. I will take your words and transform them into love. Then I will wait until I find a companion heart, to tell my truth to.
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Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 1:08 AM UTC
Pride and the ego
really what you might call an experiment, for one thing the hypothesis was missing and I was the control and the dependent variable, and by now by deduction you see, you have delimited my experiment, you negative naysayer you doomseeker you pessimist the lone variable is when
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Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
it were not
People never listen to me. Because they know the truth. That I've grown to be a naysayer and truth bringer. True honesty is honestly not something they're used to. So if you don't want to hear what I have to say, then please, please never ask me what I'd do.
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
Naysayer (Don't Ask Me What I'd Do)
Life is precious. It should be cherished. But before being a naysayer about certain life's events off decision. Question them, and then stay reminded of certain things. Many hate abortion. Then cry about talking care of unwanted children. And a few cries about scriptures of God. As if, they are that loving spiritual force. All laws aren't obeyed. Especially by the preachers that preach and politicals or the ministers. But they love advising women on abortions. When will men learn to leave a decision to that woman.
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May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
Abortion
I’ll never break a record, Nor lay claim to first prize, But still I try to wow the crowd, And not be who they despise. I’ll never be a hero, Nor lead the winning team, But still I fight for all I have, And dare at least to dream. I’ll never own an island, Nor claim an ancient throne, But still I feel a richer man, And treasure love I’ve known. I’ll never cure a malady, Nor stop the world’s decay, But still I know I’ve done some good, And helped in my own way. I’ll never be a movie star, Nor run for City Mayor, But still I strive to be someone, And silence each naysayer. I’ll never climb Mount Everest, Nor fight in some great war, But still I hope to make my mark, And live forever more.
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Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
Only Human