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"negate" poems
weakness is the bane of my existence. if strength were an equation, my weakness would negate it. please just let me be strong. i've made so much progress, after all. weakness is a Demon i can’t control. a Demon that will swallow me whole.
0
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC
weakness
Anom o ly Non-named, never imagined much less realized The left hand can't know what the right is doing, it's a brain matter, grey area, may be a way to imagine your unique. task, yours, not doable from here We can do things as us that we never imagine alone. Is there a need to negate, wait, think, must one do any act? Now, I see, emulating Socrates is thought easier than emulating Jesus. Christ, you know that ain't easy, eh? Death is the friend of being. Things change from time to time but, you know knowledge grows in two directions, the dark part is not evil. evil is as evil does. The roots that ever live in the earth, those roots are required, requirements. Left brain uses the right hand. Don't tell the left-hand that nearly all it's skill in serving and being used right, is used up by the other side. Right or wrong, is not a chiral question,  nor is good or bad. ******** Phillips's head screws with a butter knife is wrong. It can be done right, but not if you turn it the wrong way. Drawing on the right side of my brain has always symbolized a crossroads experience, in my mind. I mean I draw, realistically, with my right hand, left brain. Maybe, brains are no easier to analyze than time in an immaterial medium of messaging. I am certain life wins. Meaning everything you think life means. Do you think evil is required as an activity for life to actively be? I doubt that. Death fixes everything. Fret not. Wait. First make room, what was the Bronte word? Penetrium, no, cut n paste [A]t once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason - Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge. From <https://www.etymonline.com/columns/post/cloud-of-uknowing> Happiness demands an agreement Joy is in process, I agree, I am happy, haps happen and I notice Note: Bronte was one to tweak fine puns with the word Penetralia: 1. The innermost parts of a building, especially the sanctuary of a temple. 2. The most private or secret parts; recesses: the penetralia of the soul. See Chapter one, Wuthering Heights. ----- From bronteblog.blogspot.com/2006/03/emilys-penetralium_03.html
0
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC
Anomoly
Anom o ly Non-named, never imagined much less realized The left hand can't know what the right is doing, it's a brain matter, grey area, may be a way to imagine your unique. task, yours, not doable from here We can do things as us that we never imagine alone. Is there a need to negate, wait, think, must one do any act? Now, I see, emulating Socrates is thought easier than emulating Jesus. Christ, you know that ain't easy, eh? Death is the friend of being. Things change from time to time but, you know knowledge grows in two directions, the dark part is not evil. evil is as evil does. The roots that ever live in the earth, those roots are required, requirements. Left brain uses the right hand. Don't tell the left-hand that nearly all it's skill in serving and being used right, is used up by the other side. Right or wrong, is not a chiral question,  nor is good or bad. ******** Phillips's head screws with a butter knife is wrong. It can be done right, but not if you turn it the wrong way. Drawing on the right side of my brain has always symbolized a crossroads experience, in my mind. I mean I draw, realistically, with my right hand, left brain. Maybe, brains are no easier to analyze than time in an immaterial medium of messaging. I am certain life wins. Meaning everything you think life means. Do you think evil is required as an activity for life to actively be? I doubt that. Death fixes everything. Fret not. Wait. First make room, what was the Bronte word? Penetrium, no, cut n paste [A]t once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason - Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge. From <https://www.etymonline.com/columns/post/cloud-of-uknowing> Happiness demands an agreement Joy is in process, I agree, I am happy, haps happen and I notice Note: Bronte was one to tweak fine puns with the word Penetralia: 1. The innermost parts of a building, especially the sanctuary of a temple. 2. The most private or secret parts; recesses: the penetralia of the soul. See Chapter one, Wuthering Heights. ----- From bronteblog.blogspot.com/2006/03/emilys-penetralium_03.html
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37
Treasure my **** in your mouth Engulf it slowly with your lips Negate this gagging reflex Delight on my hot ***** Enjoy the taste of it Running down
0
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 1:44 AM UTC
Tender
We've all felt unrequited love I've just felt it more than most. Maybe I'm guilty of loving too easily Maybe I'm guilty of caring too much But is there really such thing? Can a person really be guilty of loving too easily? Can a person really be guilty of loving too much? Guilt implies some sort of crime, some form of offense Who have I wronged? Surely not myself Surely not her Maybe my only true guilt is in thinking that one could ever really be "guilty" of love at all Because even in this type of love - in this unrequited love - beauty prevails Surely there is no guilt in beauty. I love her She doesn't love me I know this But is this not still love? Does the thought of her not still keep me up at night? Is the thought of being with her not still the one thing that gets me out of bed every morning? Of course it does. Of course it is. I love her She doesn't love me But that doesn't negate the beauty of love For to love someone is like nothing else in life The rush of adrenaline every time I see her face is above all others The high that I feel when I think about her is like no other high It's not about how she feels It's about how she makes me feel It's about the lessons that she has taught me Lessons about selflessness Lessons about persistence Lessons about myself Lessons about love. One day the thought of her will pass A relationship merely a fleeting thought But a love that will last forever Because unrequited love is a love like no other A love that teaches what it's like to love A love that cements the beauty of love in the imagination Indeed, there is beauty in the unrequited And for that, I have had one of the most beautiful lives that a man could live.
0
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 4:35 AM UTC
The Beauty in the Unrequited
We've all felt unrequited love I've just felt it more than most. Maybe I'm guilty of loving too easily Maybe I'm guilty of caring too much But is there really such thing? Can a person really be guilty of loving too easily? Can a person really be guilty of loving too much? Guilt implies some sort of crime, some form of offense Who have I wronged? Surely not myself Surely not her Maybe my only true guilt is in thinking that one could ever really be "guilty" of love at all Because even in this type of love - in this unrequited love - beauty prevails Surely there is no guilt in beauty. I love her She doesn't love me I know this But is this not still love? Does the thought of her not still keep me up at night? Is the thought of being with her not still the one thing that gets me out of bed every morning? Of course it does. Of course it is. I love her She doesn't love me But that doesn't negate the beauty of love For to love someone is like nothing else in life The rush of adrenaline every time I see her face is above all others The high that I feel when I think about her is like no other high It's not about how she feels It's about how she makes me feel It's about the lessons that she has taught me Lessons about selflessness Lessons about persistence Lessons about myself Lessons about love. One day the thought of her will pass A relationship merely a fleeting thought But a love that will last forever Because unrequited love is a love like no other A love that teaches what it's like to love A love that cements the beauty of love in the imagination Indeed, there is beauty in the unrequited And for that, I have had one of the most beautiful lives that a man could live.
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43
I ask what your favourite word is. You say you don’t have one, and I don’t understand. See. I’m a poet. I tried hard not to be, Rejected it with every Fibre of who I am but Words form in ways I can’t Negate. See, You speak and I notice There’s more in what you say than You know. Your voice is delicate, Not in the way you sound words But the way you phrase sentences, Like the subject is something to be hidden behind premises. Some people grab chance by the throat, ****** you right into the center, Until you’re drowning in meaning And unable to listen to anything but the Beat, B-, Beat, Of your heart but Not you. I can respect that. You’re all tact and logic and It’s not about feeling It’s about thought process and I still don’t understand. See, my tongue is clumsy, It stutters and stumbles and smashes its way through life, But it finds meaning where there isn’t any, Notes how you say “Spoke”, not “talked”, How you dance through every word in the English language because Deciding on the right one Has to be perfect. I think that, You are perfect. My favourite word is puddle. I don’t know why, but When I say it, my tongue kicks my teeth and It reminds me of the way my Consonants get heavier with ******* in my brain. It makes language ridiculous, Because the end of its vowel is so sudden It should cut But it’s so ******* round. Puddle. I can’t explain, not in words, But I smile when you say it and I promise you that sometimes language is less about logic And more about that feeling in your gut When you look at me and verbs flow out of your mouth And for once you’re not thinking And, - "I love you." If you thought, it wouldn’t be true and - "I love you." Cogs whir to a halt and, "I love you." I don’t trust you for a second because My mind is now skipping stones across oceans Waiting for depth to show, yet There’s nothing below, but still, Sail away with me. Let’s leave language behind and use touch to define The borders between where I start And you stop. We’ll find they’re less obvious than we’d thought, Because I love you. Not in the way that I say it but In the way that your presence makes my stomach churn out musical notes And I was broken, but I don’t want to seem desperate and I guess that when you say you that don’t have a favourite I realise, Puddle’s a scapegoat. My favourite word is whatever name you’d give for the Goosebumps on your skin when I touch you. My favourite word is the colour of your eyes. My favourite word is the way your voice goes real high when you’re excited. My favourite word is how I can feel where you touched my flesh, for days after we last met. My favourite word Is you But I’m too shy to say it. So here, take puddle, And run away with it.
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
"Puddle"
I ask what your favourite word is. You say you don’t have one, and I don’t understand. See. I’m a poet. I tried hard not to be, Rejected it with every Fibre of who I am but Words form in ways I can’t Negate. See, You speak and I notice There’s more in what you say than You know. Your voice is delicate, Not in the way you sound words But the way you phrase sentences, Like the subject is something to be hidden behind premises. Some people grab chance by the throat, ****** you right into the center, Until you’re drowning in meaning And unable to listen to anything but the Beat, B-, Beat, Of your heart but Not you. I can respect that. You’re all tact and logic and It’s not about feeling It’s about thought process and I still don’t understand. See, my tongue is clumsy, It stutters and stumbles and smashes its way through life, But it finds meaning where there isn’t any, Notes how you say “Spoke”, not “talked”, How you dance through every word in the English language because Deciding on the right one Has to be perfect. I think that, You are perfect. My favourite word is puddle. I don’t know why, but When I say it, my tongue kicks my teeth and It reminds me of the way my Consonants get heavier with ******* in my brain. It makes language ridiculous, Because the end of its vowel is so sudden It should cut But it’s so ******* round. Puddle. I can’t explain, not in words, But I smile when you say it and I promise you that sometimes language is less about logic And more about that feeling in your gut When you look at me and verbs flow out of your mouth And for once you’re not thinking And, - "I love you." If you thought, it wouldn’t be true and - "I love you." Cogs whir to a halt and, "I love you." I don’t trust you for a second because My mind is now skipping stones across oceans Waiting for depth to show, yet There’s nothing below, but still, Sail away with me. Let’s leave language behind and use touch to define The borders between where I start And you stop. We’ll find they’re less obvious than we’d thought, Because I love you. Not in the way that I say it but In the way that your presence makes my stomach churn out musical notes And I was broken, but I don’t want to seem desperate and I guess that when you say you that don’t have a favourite I realise, Puddle’s a scapegoat. My favourite word is whatever name you’d give for the Goosebumps on your skin when I touch you. My favourite word is the colour of your eyes. My favourite word is the way your voice goes real high when you’re excited. My favourite word is how I can feel where you touched my flesh, for days after we last met. My favourite word Is you But I’m too shy to say it. So here, take puddle, And run away with it.
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95
High ground I concede to you in the disproportion of a time allotted to you for the choice of robe to grace a glorified cameo around your flesh like a sheet designated for an overthrowing in an honorary statue's unveiling Liturgy is looming in the bathroom already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles I have settled comfortably into in wait High ground awaits your hallowed prance into the concealed languish of your man's dangling imagination I salute you with incentive through a lowering of eyes made necessary by your towering above my horizontal soak I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway over the humility of my reclined posture with the hidden scepter of your body fated to dictate the pace of my anticipated knighting The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum incites a turning of my head to take in the litany of parts available to my frenetic feels and jumbled focus Stationary in your naked smile of proximity you extend to me excessive time to entertain options as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery The wall is cold and you protrude haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame Warmth is of the essence Fingers split your hair in celebration of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch signalling our first hint of friction and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth Do you realize you now rescind creative license? Or have you filled the snare of your intentions? Now your balance shivers in the mercy of my curled leg of leverage and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes like an ice cream scoop Uniform heights allowing eye contact makes optional the visual acknowledgment of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast with a dancing thumb I connect and latch onto what is now our binding axis and shuffle eye contact with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
0
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
HOW TO FIND PERSONALITY INSIDE A UNIFORM
High ground I concede to you in the disproportion of a time allotted to you for the choice of robe to grace a glorified cameo around your flesh like a sheet designated for an overthrowing in an honorary statue's unveiling Liturgy is looming in the bathroom already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles I have settled comfortably into in wait High ground awaits your hallowed prance into the concealed languish of your man's dangling imagination I salute you with incentive through a lowering of eyes made necessary by your towering above my horizontal soak I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway over the humility of my reclined posture with the hidden scepter of your body fated to dictate the pace of my anticipated knighting The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum incites a turning of my head to take in the litany of parts available to my frenetic feels and jumbled focus Stationary in your naked smile of proximity you extend to me excessive time to entertain options as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery The wall is cold and you protrude haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame Warmth is of the essence Fingers split your hair in celebration of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch signalling our first hint of friction and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth Do you realize you now rescind creative license? Or have you filled the snare of your intentions? Now your balance shivers in the mercy of my curled leg of leverage and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes like an ice cream scoop Uniform heights allowing eye contact makes optional the visual acknowledgment of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast with a dancing thumb I connect and latch onto what is now our binding axis and shuffle eye contact with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
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53
Popularity  This is something tht I didn't have to have I guess u can say I'm a victim of my swag And whts tht u ask well thts my personality The qualities and characteristics tht makes me  Anywhere I go I leave w/ at least one friend Humor w/ a little sarcasm who can contend   The key to this is to stay ahead of the next man See things happen before they happen w/o pretend Which means u have to keep it real  Be ready for wht ever but still remain chill  Add all these factors up and thts not even a quarter of me Even tho I'm giving u the blueprint equaling me is something u will never be   You see people wait to see wht I'm going to wear  Which makes it hard not to notice when people stare But I don't care cause I give people inspiration  The females sweating me w/o the perspiration  And it's  amazing how some women hang on ur every word  No matter how rude, obnoxious or absurd U will still be heard I mean in all actuality a **** is wht they want  Y'all embrace them inconsiderate ******* types ladies don't front But on the inside to project this persona brings about alot of pressure With ur preconceived notion of who I am w/me left to measure So u can actually say tht I'm being me for you  Even though u believe all my qualities to be unique and true Because to be honest u put me before you In an attempt to negate your own low self esteem  Whether it be an acquaintance or a small association You make it bigger than it seems  Placing me in undeserved high regards Feeling tht I possess the best hand when you hold the trump card You see this is just a brief look at the other side of the fence  And even though it may be hard for me to convince It because of ur interest tht my popularity exist              By: @mr_p3rs0nality
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 5:02 PM UTC
POPULARITY !!!!!!!
Popularity  This is something tht I didn't have to have I guess u can say I'm a victim of my swag And whts tht u ask well thts my personality The qualities and characteristics tht makes me  Anywhere I go I leave w/ at least one friend Humor w/ a little sarcasm who can contend   The key to this is to stay ahead of the next man See things happen before they happen w/o pretend Which means u have to keep it real  Be ready for wht ever but still remain chill  Add all these factors up and thts not even a quarter of me Even tho I'm giving u the blueprint equaling me is something u will never be   You see people wait to see wht I'm going to wear  Which makes it hard not to notice when people stare But I don't care cause I give people inspiration  The females sweating me w/o the perspiration  And it's  amazing how some women hang on ur every word  No matter how rude, obnoxious or absurd U will still be heard I mean in all actuality a **** is wht they want  Y'all embrace them inconsiderate ******* types ladies don't front But on the inside to project this persona brings about alot of pressure With ur preconceived notion of who I am w/me left to measure So u can actually say tht I'm being me for you  Even though u believe all my qualities to be unique and true Because to be honest u put me before you In an attempt to negate your own low self esteem  Whether it be an acquaintance or a small association You make it bigger than it seems  Placing me in undeserved high regards Feeling tht I possess the best hand when you hold the trump card You see this is just a brief look at the other side of the fence  And even though it may be hard for me to convince It because of ur interest tht my popularity exist              By: @mr_p3rs0nality
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34
In the morning when I can't sleep Whispers of love start to creep What I find I didn't seek Everything about you I want to keep Close to me but oh so far Distance doesn't negate beauty of a star Inside each other is what we are When you're away I bear a scar Destinies door brought me to this place Opened up my inner space Regrets I feel..just a waste Now a true spiritual love I taste Hunger is feeling that is fed Feed it with love till it's dead To your heart it has lead To these Whispers in my bed...
0
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Whispers
Crab mentality, sometimes referred to as ***** in a barrel, is a way of thinking best described by the phrase, "if I can't have it, neither can you."[1] The metaphor refers to a bucket or barrel of ***** Individually, the ***** could easily escape from the bucket, but instead they grab at each other in a useless "king of the hill" competition which prevents any from escaping and ensures their collective demise.The analogy in human behavior is claimed to be that members of a group will attempt to negate or diminish the importance of any member who achieves success beyond the others, out of envy, spite, conspiracy, or competitive feelings, to halt their progress.
0
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 2:29 AM UTC
Crab mentality
She always sits in front of me Face full of zits Frizzy tight curls Tacky clothes Thin as a pencil   You're so greasy You're pizza You're macaroni and cheese    Why are all the girls in this choir so hideous? I get sick to my stomach when I look at you you are the smell of sickening sweet an arts major insecure fishing for notes following the leader    And worst of all you're blocking my view of him You negate the bliss I feel when I see his face He's looking at me now But you can't let him see me I think he loves me But you're blocking his view    Who else would he want in this section? And then I glance behind me    Big ***** girl Blond greasy hair Bangles Eighties chic Blue eyes Brown coat Big **** Red pouting lips She's not ugly But by logic she should be    And I realize I'm a fool It's her He can't stop looking at her    I'm getting annoyed He can't control his head Always turned to my corner of the room What does she think of this?    But she's gone I won't see her until tomorrow Was he looking at someone else? At me? I ponder the mystery Leaving choir and the pizza-faced girl with a smirk on my face    Maybe I'm not an ugly choir girl
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Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Ugly Choir Girl
Distance was never the matter. A block away or a planet away, You were mine. And nothing in the world could negate that. Stability was never the matter. When everything changed, I stayed the same. Constant and reliable. Always there. I loved you like nothing else and I lived to protect you. Reliability was never the matter. I was there. Though the painful early mornings and the long late nights. Through the lonely days, I was the only soul to write. Security was never the matter. You were so special and for that, I was willing to do anything. Your best interest, my main focus. You over me any day. I was never the matter. The cold world tried to engulf you in it's frigid currents. But I kept you safe and warm. So how did the frostbite reach your precious heart? I try everyday now to thaw it with my heavy love, To melt the icy patches with the passion deep inside me, To bring you back to your sweet and gentle ways. But the rapid rate of freezing is too much for my broken spirit. You, my love, my heart, my best friend, companion...my future. You are the matter. Soon you'll realize the way I love you. You'll never have it this way again. You'll realize how much you took from me and how broken I am as a result. When all I needed was reciprocity.
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
reciprocity
Slip into a syncopated Yaw that staggers some, Never touches others. Come back home if you don't have the chops, or Open up to ranges Pleasant... Awkward... Totter some and Tatter some. Insiders, Outsiders Nestle or Negate whenever Music syncopates.
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Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:53 AM UTC
Syncopated
One simple thought goes astray, away - beyond the limits of decorum. A mind goes blind; Descends   to the realm of madness. When reality is the brutality of suffering against all odds and logic; The mind’s on a pivotal perch of distortion; Sinking to the depths of despair. How to escape? Where to travel - unravel? Thoughts create, minds negate. Oh, to make things clear; to again see flee - the insanity of actuality. What is real? how to feel? shall I kneel and pray for forgiveness? for my mind   to find its home? But to whom do I say my incantations? Why do my thoughts go beyond? Who’s to say what is wrong? What is right I am strong! Not insane. © 2010 Marlene Dunham
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Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
Insanity
(Chorus) I found a corner in my headspaaaace Where the dark can't find me But can't see an inch in front of my faaaace Oh the irony This rat race feels more like a foot chase, no soul just a shoelace the only thing tied to reality A cold case denies any warm embrace, I can not negate the red flags that riddle my mentality ©2023
0
Dec 18, 2023
Dec 18, 2023 at 4:17 PM UTC
~•§•~ 🎼 Oh The Irony 🎼 ~•§•~
There will come a day, probably a Tuesday, you'll be hoeing and yanking yellow weeds by the handful, the sun in the center of the sky; Or you'll be climbing through your lover's window while her husband unlocks the front door, thinking to yourself, "Jesus, we didn't even do anything today. Just gave her her insulin shot," and your heart no longer pumps so much as begs, begs for silence, but that's funny, isn't it? because there isn't any sound, only the perceived dissonance of a scattered mind; But maybe, if you're lucky, it'll be at night, the two of you in bed, and she'll timidly ask if you're hungry, and you'll say what you always say to that question: yes, yes I am, and she'll ask if you want a sandwich, and you'll say, "I'll get it." "You're too sweet." "It's not a problem." After spreading the mustard, there'll be a pain in your chest, mild at first, just at first, but by the time you get halfway down the hall you'll drop the plate of sandwiches on the floor and ***** in the toilet, and you'll probably know then what's happening; But what did you ever do to earn that kind of quiet, relatively quiet, ending? You've got a few things in mind, but you've got a few more bad that negate any kudos any kind of god would award, so let's be honest. That's what you want, right? Death will wake you up, probably around 6 because you've never been a morning person, and when you wake it won't be from a feeling, like a physiological manifestation, no, no that'd give you time to remember Mom in the hospital when she called you by the wrong name. No, Death will come in the form of a headache, and if your wife was there she'd already be up, and she'd say something like: "Poor baby," and get the Tylenol out of the cabinet to the left of the sink for you, but she's not there, is she? No, she's living with her sister right now while you "figure yourself out" and your kids, two boys and a girl, all grown with families of their own, think you've been selfish, but what was the word you countered with? "Necessary." Yes, it's necessary, you'll think as you pop three pills in and run your mouth under the facet, and you'll collapse, pills rolling across the floor, stopping under the cabinets where no one will ever find them. Your vision will burn white; it won't fade to black like you thought, and your head, Jesus, your head sounds like tools in a dryer, but you know there is no sound, and this is it, this is honestly it, you alone on the floor in nothing but your grey boxer shorts, the ones riddled with holes that your wife told you to throw out, and a fragmented halo of Tylenol around you. Your wife. Your wife. Your wife. Your wife. You'll say her name, you'll say "Eve," and your mouth will close itself, and your fist will unclench itself, and you know what? That'll be it, to borrow a phrase. Nobody will find you for three days, and even then, when they do, they'll wish they never had.
0
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
Probably a Tuesday
There will come a day, probably a Tuesday, you'll be hoeing and yanking yellow weeds by the handful, the sun in the center of the sky; Or you'll be climbing through your lover's window while her husband unlocks the front door, thinking to yourself, "Jesus, we didn't even do anything today. Just gave her her insulin shot," and your heart no longer pumps so much as begs, begs for silence, but that's funny, isn't it? because there isn't any sound, only the perceived dissonance of a scattered mind; But maybe, if you're lucky, it'll be at night, the two of you in bed, and she'll timidly ask if you're hungry, and you'll say what you always say to that question: yes, yes I am, and she'll ask if you want a sandwich, and you'll say, "I'll get it." "You're too sweet." "It's not a problem." After spreading the mustard, there'll be a pain in your chest, mild at first, just at first, but by the time you get halfway down the hall you'll drop the plate of sandwiches on the floor and ***** in the toilet, and you'll probably know then what's happening; But what did you ever do to earn that kind of quiet, relatively quiet, ending? You've got a few things in mind, but you've got a few more bad that negate any kudos any kind of god would award, so let's be honest. That's what you want, right? Death will wake you up, probably around 6 because you've never been a morning person, and when you wake it won't be from a feeling, like a physiological manifestation, no, no that'd give you time to remember Mom in the hospital when she called you by the wrong name. No, Death will come in the form of a headache, and if your wife was there she'd already be up, and she'd say something like: "Poor baby," and get the Tylenol out of the cabinet to the left of the sink for you, but she's not there, is she? No, she's living with her sister right now while you "figure yourself out" and your kids, two boys and a girl, all grown with families of their own, think you've been selfish, but what was the word you countered with? "Necessary." Yes, it's necessary, you'll think as you pop three pills in and run your mouth under the facet, and you'll collapse, pills rolling across the floor, stopping under the cabinets where no one will ever find them. Your vision will burn white; it won't fade to black like you thought, and your head, Jesus, your head sounds like tools in a dryer, but you know there is no sound, and this is it, this is honestly it, you alone on the floor in nothing but your grey boxer shorts, the ones riddled with holes that your wife told you to throw out, and a fragmented halo of Tylenol around you. Your wife. Your wife. Your wife. Your wife. You'll say her name, you'll say "Eve," and your mouth will close itself, and your fist will unclench itself, and you know what? That'll be it, to borrow a phrase. Nobody will find you for three days, and even then, when they do, they'll wish they never had.
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Hello Mr Shroom man I ask you how things are Hello Mr Shroom man I ask how things should be You return to me with, 'Look, Inside yourself you're shook It's a reflection of the state Said shaking's shall negate The atrocity around...' sound '...How you choose to engage Your emphasis on form I'm sorry that's ok'
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
Psilocybin Dream Day
There's a pretentious air In the way you presume I care. How could it possibly be fair To treat brother like mare? To pass on your obligation Is to inspire my frustration. The thoughtlessness and abdication Resumes hateful thoughts of vindication. One asks not for reparation Or from friendship a vacation. Just a token of creation Of an equal-footed communication. I won't hold grudges, or hate But you've been tense as of late. You've been jumping my words to conflate The words for your anger I use to negate. Could you just chill out? Nobody is out to get you. It's hard to be a friend When even enemies get more respect too.
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Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
Pretentious
F*ck you for encouraging me to take out more than I needed F*ck you for not explaining the difference between subsidized and unsubsidized F*ck you for judging my eligibility based on my parent’s income and not my own F*ck you for pretending to look out for my best interest F*ck you for making me decide on whether to pay you, or go to the hospital F*ck you for harassing me via phone and email F*ck you for transferring my loans to a different company F*ck you for asking for money back BEFORE I graduated F*ck you for asking for money AFTER I graduated with NO job F*ck you for asking for MORE money after I got a job F*ck you for transferring my loans to a different company (again) F*ck you for suggesting a 30year repayment plan F*ck you for the high interest rates that negate the payments I was able to make F*ck you for adjusting my repayment plan without my consent F*ck you for suggesting a lower monthly payment as I crept toward full repayment F*ck your shoes with the belts on them (Boondocks) And F*ck Donald Trump This is America sucka. The land of the free, and home of the brave Not the sea of debt and house of enslavement So, Fck you from the bottom of my heart, and if you call me again I’m gonna slap the sht out of you Goodbye forever
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Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
YFBY: An Ode to Student Loans and the Collegiate Education System
It would take time "Upon a promise" I would never let you pass Life & Death Meant nothing as we were Connected, what I had to do Took conviction, Loyalty, Love, Commitment To keeping you within the living "Blade Of  Essence" "Drink to your full" Each one I shed a tear for But love concurs all, Many must negate there existence For one to live, *"It took all life with but a ****** Essence of life concentrated but a drop "Each had felt bone cut In to flesh" There features fluctuated, then dust For with out Life Force Nothingness Remained,  a breath of wind Pasted and features were lost As into the abyss they disappeared, I needed to fill all There were five pins, each one held The essence of many lives, I had taken many, But it did not only give life "Restored youth" I had been at this such a long time, The scars upon flesh never heal I grip hard as I cut, Jagged, Torn, Flesh Marks, are a story of my journey I do this for "LOVE" "She is my existence" I have taken so many So much essence Now my journey nearly ended So few left to fulfil existence, I need her to Breathe, Pulse, Love Conquers all, each fought valiantly But the blade greeted each and all, I have filled the pins, now is the time, "Each given of essence" "All bleed life" "That which was before" "Essence of life restore as was before" I paused, I waited an eternality Of moments, Breath returned Pulse returned Angelic in her looks, Her eyes opened after so many lifetimes "She gazed upon me" Saw scars upon flesh I told her the moments of eternity That love lives forever And nothing in Above & Below, Would separate two beats as one, Lips were connected So many lifetimes Met in moments, love breathed anew Then pain shuddered "I felt weak" "Whispers echoed upon fading life" "Love can not be feed with taken life" As lips caressed, life turned to dust "Our embrace were moments" Then I realised that love conquers all even death "What had I done" Taken so many,life for life isn't living "We were but concentrated droplets" Our moment now lost to the winds "The blade of essence" Drank its full, may we both find our love in the afterlife..
0
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Blade Of Essence
It would take time "Upon a promise" I would never let you pass Life & Death Meant nothing as we were Connected, what I had to do Took conviction, Loyalty, Love, Commitment To keeping you within the living "Blade Of  Essence" "Drink to your full" Each one I shed a tear for But love concurs all, Many must negate there existence For one to live, *"It took all life with but a ****** Essence of life concentrated but a drop "Each had felt bone cut In to flesh" There features fluctuated, then dust For with out Life Force Nothingness Remained,  a breath of wind Pasted and features were lost As into the abyss they disappeared, I needed to fill all There were five pins, each one held The essence of many lives, I had taken many, But it did not only give life "Restored youth" I had been at this such a long time, The scars upon flesh never heal I grip hard as I cut, Jagged, Torn, Flesh Marks, are a story of my journey I do this for "LOVE" "She is my existence" I have taken so many So much essence Now my journey nearly ended So few left to fulfil existence, I need her to Breathe, Pulse, Love Conquers all, each fought valiantly But the blade greeted each and all, I have filled the pins, now is the time, "Each given of essence" "All bleed life" "That which was before" "Essence of life restore as was before" I paused, I waited an eternality Of moments, Breath returned Pulse returned Angelic in her looks, Her eyes opened after so many lifetimes "She gazed upon me" Saw scars upon flesh I told her the moments of eternity That love lives forever And nothing in Above & Below, Would separate two beats as one, Lips were connected So many lifetimes Met in moments, love breathed anew Then pain shuddered "I felt weak" "Whispers echoed upon fading life" "Love can not be feed with taken life" As lips caressed, life turned to dust "Our embrace were moments" Then I realised that love conquers all even death "What had I done" Taken so many,life for life isn't living "We were but concentrated droplets" Our moment now lost to the winds "The blade of essence" Drank its full, may we both find our love in the afterlife..
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The summer heat welcomes heart rate The affection I show, you negate My heads burning up My hearts breaking apart You never know how cold the last goodbye is Until you’re buried alive Frozen in the middle of July
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 10:22 PM UTC
A Heatwave and a Cold Goodbye
Allow me to project my insides Beside your ear. Certainly you can Determine how the Emptiness within my body Forgoes the exuberance Gathered on the surface. Haphazardly phrased fragments I speak Just to be heard, even faintly. Knowing my words Level worlds, Monopolize hearts, Negate negativity, Omitted from the explicit. Perfectly formed fractures Qualm me as they Reverberate through my body Slithering their way Through Timothy's Universe. Viciously assaulting Where they fit best. Xenobiotic and almost parasitic Yarns about a Zealous life not yet lived
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Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
ABC
I get too deep in my own emotions, I never even attempt to try and bring myself back because I know that when I’m depressed they just become delusions. It’s simple to say that friendship can keep you sane but honestly, it’s the comradery the keeps me sheltered in an uncomfortable silence. Hearing about the pleasures someone can indulge in makes my heart break, then to hear them complain about the small demons they face in life just simply makes it hard to agree with their outlooks when I’ve seldom ever seen my happiness at its peak. It’s hard to think of them outside of our time together when almost every moment of my time is hard to fabricate. I love them but sometimes it feels like I have to liquidate and make my escape before I create a situation where I will negate the comfort I’ve created with them, it’s so hard not to express the feeling to leave.
0
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
Competition
Ask yourself a question? What is at the root of every conflict? Anger? Go deeper. Personal rights? Deeper. Ignorance? Still deeper. Correcting error? Keep Going. Ego? Nope. At the most fundamental level every conflict comes from the inability to understand the other person's perspective or position and to respect their right to think, feel and believe as they choose (instead we attempt to negate and eliminate these things). Everything else, including that listed above, all arise from this root cause. Now ask yourself this. What would the world be like if this root cause of conflict did not exist?
0
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 7:54 PM UTC
Go Deeper
Fusing the concepts of diction with the; roll of a puuuup: ill container no brainer; the new name for all,, club bangers the flocking flamers, claiming they flow rain sick, fake **** time to face it like similes to basic subject matter could use a face lift I straight rip, jill jacking me off, cant touch these bars, leading to E.R. cough, cough; Hot sauce her eye, then fry that back side, spliff lit A big hit; leaves dome split                                                                            thoughts. . .              drift To higher places; perceive the cloudy spaces between the jaded hate spit peaceful protest; GRAVITY.. replace it Aliteration altered asinine assumptions Rhetoric to run with;               supplying the dumb-shits my cognition is "meta" there "fore"; fairest way is hitt'n Needing a "fix"; I pop "pre"-scription Sacred living's indifferent; no know's of his vision Firing blindly; we're inquisitive middlemen signing contracts binding booking assurance of purpose vexing questions perplex the messes milk spilt are peoples guesses nose tilt; angling obtuse, obese, feeding upon, the bottom line Most zealous of swine; hideous and hateful, unable, ungrateful better off as bacon plateful The line is fine; The shade is grey I'll ironically state, suggestions to negate your fate upon another's baseless psalms or petty predictions of living on your palms
0
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
What I Do At Work (no wonder the economy is tanking)
Fusing the concepts of diction with the; roll of a puuuup: ill container no brainer; the new name for all,, club bangers the flocking flamers, claiming they flow rain sick, fake **** time to face it like similes to basic subject matter could use a face lift I straight rip, jill jacking me off, cant touch these bars, leading to E.R. cough, cough; Hot sauce her eye, then fry that back side, spliff lit A big hit; leaves dome split                                                                            thoughts. . .              drift To higher places; perceive the cloudy spaces between the jaded hate spit peaceful protest; GRAVITY.. replace it Aliteration altered asinine assumptions Rhetoric to run with;               supplying the dumb-shits my cognition is "meta" there "fore"; fairest way is hitt'n Needing a "fix"; I pop "pre"-scription Sacred living's indifferent; no know's of his vision Firing blindly; we're inquisitive middlemen signing contracts binding booking assurance of purpose vexing questions perplex the messes milk spilt are peoples guesses nose tilt; angling obtuse, obese, feeding upon, the bottom line Most zealous of swine; hideous and hateful, unable, ungrateful better off as bacon plateful The line is fine; The shade is grey I'll ironically state, suggestions to negate your fate upon another's baseless psalms or petty predictions of living on your palms
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