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"newfangled" poems
Picked freshly from the garden of my newfangled burning infatuation for you, a fine blanket of lettuce, to suit my modest request This evening holds meaning, accented with wine of white over candlelight, delicious Italian dining tonight You do me well, you know you do Scorching days turn to chilly nights We are but two spoons, failing to convect heat to warm each other’s souls and hands, which I kept moisturized, for us; scented fingers of vanilla caress uniquely speckled skin Genuine fascination in everything that is you
0
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
Donuts (part two)
**Unprecedented poetry,    newfangled conception in       idiosyncratic transparency perceived by the hierarchy     to be the garb of peons, thine command accepts nothing  less than the likes of sonnets    penned deliberately archaic         in Old English tradition, figurative language   of the huddled masses       is strictly forbidden,   contradicted,      ostracized,         anesthetized            and possible grounds                for poetic eradication**
0
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Poetic eradication
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse you were opening one's lips so gorgeous and so creamy greasing me stamen on the unfucked bonk while the bangers let it rip in the alley Those were the diseased minds and that was Newfangled York we were squirting for the wads and the meatballs and that was gobbled snog for the creamers inside Gloria centrifugally stiff is thus those of White House Nazis Ah but you copulated telescopic didn't you basket case you just acidified your jockstrap on the shoulders of the scrum you copulated telescopic I never once heard you use sign language I input you, I don't intake you I input you, I don't intake you and all of that balling hard on I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse you were gorilla—like your ****** *********** was absolute epic you leaked me again you frocked slap—up old salt but for me you would **** an unzipping And shaving your tongue because the creatures lust after us who are barked at by the Daleks of *** appeal you Rohypnolled yourself you emitted jet so what? we are radioactive salvo we shoot full of holes the stride piano *** one fine morning you copulated telescopic didn't you cocker you just blunted your extremity on the cattle you copulated telescopic I never once smelled you emit I intake you, I don't input you I intake you, I don't input you and all of that balling hard on I don't mean to insinuate that I slobbered over you peanuts I can't withhold *********** of each crouched **** I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse that's oodles I don't even kick—start you that thick and fast
0
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 3:36 PM UTC
Chelsea Flophouse
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse you were opening one's lips so gorgeous and so creamy greasing me stamen on the unfucked bonk while the bangers let it rip in the alley Those were the diseased minds and that was Newfangled York we were squirting for the wads and the meatballs and that was gobbled snog for the creamers inside Gloria centrifugally stiff is thus those of White House Nazis Ah but you copulated telescopic didn't you basket case you just acidified your jockstrap on the shoulders of the scrum you copulated telescopic I never once heard you use sign language I input you, I don't intake you I input you, I don't intake you and all of that balling hard on I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse you were gorilla—like your ****** *********** was absolute epic you leaked me again you frocked slap—up old salt but for me you would **** an unzipping And shaving your tongue because the creatures lust after us who are barked at by the Daleks of *** appeal you Rohypnolled yourself you emitted jet so what? we are radioactive salvo we shoot full of holes the stride piano *** one fine morning you copulated telescopic didn't you cocker you just blunted your extremity on the cattle you copulated telescopic I never once smelled you emit I intake you, I don't input you I intake you, I don't input you and all of that balling hard on I don't mean to insinuate that I slobbered over you peanuts I can't withhold *********** of each crouched **** I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse that's oodles I don't even kick—start you that thick and fast
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32
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous The warrior on the mountain confessed to us Sordid sully suborn salacious Only the worst will ever keep pace with us In extremis extremity exigence exodus Is the answer clear to all of us Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster Or just another cauldron muck stir Mystical magical manumission mandate That only the good would ever relate date Fornicating fecund finite's fate I can only hope it will be I rate Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive Won't be contained, like water in a sieve Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled And all of that surreal newfangled Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence How I wish I could float its boat sense
0
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
Oblique Assault
Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau Panoramic imagery empiricist Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show Ontological somatalogy lyricist Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back *** Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
0
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Rootclod Rudiments
I know how it was in that time sixty years ago when roads seen from above were little more than two thin tracks through grass. My mind has heard the noiseless roads cutting unfenced fields, passing cherry groves, skirting steepest hills and flat lakes, making settled burgs where roads cross. I know how it was in that time when many-handed harvests,   sweet smells and back breaking work were wrenched away without referendum. Wrenched away by Ford's cast iron. Wrenched away without option of staying to enjoy the scale of day-long trips on foot, in wagon or buggy.   Our innocent grandfathers too, wrenched away, not unwillingly, from plowfields, to be told by newspaper and newfangled radio   of the one-day Atlantic crossing. I know how it was in that time. I've seen it from three or five hundred feet; the quick shadow and lake-mirrored image of fabric covered wood and wire. I've gently flown, pocketa, pocketa, in that time; in a ship as much a product of those shifting decades as of its tinkerer/ designer, builder, pilot, Pietenpol.
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
In that time
Established landmarks removed test the fates Burning wind in a vacant sky Rearranged cosmic hemispheres of mind Oracle of day not seen with naked eye The need for warmth a thing of the past Frigid waters the basis of newfangled cell Tortured derelicts kept from spiritual vision Oracle of night hangs in days empty shell Dubious means to generate a sun of artificial light But a fling cannot replace a love that is shunned Yet warm rays of sunlight still flow above the temporal Still hanging in defiance of the 60 cycle hum Regain your bearings oh heart of Pure Light Everything in its place: oracle of day and oracle of night.
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Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
Landmarks: Oracles of Night and of Day
when it comes to Facebook i no longer like finding social media takes up to much of my time and in today's society how many peak in for a look at what their friends are doing making them feel they've kept in touch or how we Snapchat our activities and in seconds it is gone i ask can you picture that if not Instagram's not far off and if your in a hurry with the words you have to say in no time you can tweet it out then soon be on your way all this newfangled socializing is anti-social at its best never to deeply diving yet still wearing our masks please don't get me wrong social media does have its place it's just sometimes in this book we all wear a different face and no amount of liking can real time face to face be replaced
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May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
anti-social media
Dancing before my eyes, is the mirage of perfection. I reach for it and it slips through my fingers. My therapist says I am grieving – and how can I stop? Change tears me from my foundations, again and again. And each time is like sandpaper on my skin; new faces mix with old fears in a nauseating pattern. They say home is not a place, but a feeling of security, and so, I cannot go home. Once I had a home in a bitterness of a girl, with eyes like autumn leaves. That home kept me sharp and angry, as I had always been. But it is not such a torment, when one is not angry alone. /Here there lies a girl, auburn hair and eyes of molten autumn. She wanted to burn the world. Moth to her flame, I followed her to the end of the earth. And watched as she burnt herself to cinders./ Long after that home deserted me, I found another. This time I fostered myself among a merry band of misfits. At the zenith of this period of home, I found myself entirely humanized, with unfamiliar stirrings of contentment. But, as that home drew to a close – in both place and security, again rose the familiar stirrings of dread. My trepidation was not misplaced. Like a reluctant Dorothy, I was plucked from my home by the unforgiving storm of time. My newfangled humanity proved an acute vulnerability. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. And so, the old bitterness and broken humanity mixed like acid in my blood, leaving a feeble and faithless girl. It is enough to make one wonder if it’s worth it – to have loved and lost. I feel as if something has been stolen from me, fate some cruel and callous thief to let me believe in any of it, to give the pretence of meaning to my meandering life and tear me to pieces with the temptation. I understand why we become destroyers – is that a line I too, will cross? We so wish and dream to be heroes and precious friends, only to be cast out into the wasting and hungry world – full of monsters. I see, I see how easy it would be, to MAKE it stop. I swore I would not be a monster – if only so as not to validate the harms monsters have done me. But if I am to be devoured either way, have I enough soul left to believe that promise mattered?
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
BrokenPoetry
Dancing before my eyes, is the mirage of perfection. I reach for it and it slips through my fingers. My therapist says I am grieving – and how can I stop? Change tears me from my foundations, again and again. And each time is like sandpaper on my skin; new faces mix with old fears in a nauseating pattern. They say home is not a place, but a feeling of security, and so, I cannot go home. Once I had a home in a bitterness of a girl, with eyes like autumn leaves. That home kept me sharp and angry, as I had always been. But it is not such a torment, when one is not angry alone. /Here there lies a girl, auburn hair and eyes of molten autumn. She wanted to burn the world. Moth to her flame, I followed her to the end of the earth. And watched as she burnt herself to cinders./ Long after that home deserted me, I found another. This time I fostered myself among a merry band of misfits. At the zenith of this period of home, I found myself entirely humanized, with unfamiliar stirrings of contentment. But, as that home drew to a close – in both place and security, again rose the familiar stirrings of dread. My trepidation was not misplaced. Like a reluctant Dorothy, I was plucked from my home by the unforgiving storm of time. My newfangled humanity proved an acute vulnerability. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. And so, the old bitterness and broken humanity mixed like acid in my blood, leaving a feeble and faithless girl. It is enough to make one wonder if it’s worth it – to have loved and lost. I feel as if something has been stolen from me, fate some cruel and callous thief to let me believe in any of it, to give the pretence of meaning to my meandering life and tear me to pieces with the temptation. I understand why we become destroyers – is that a line I too, will cross? We so wish and dream to be heroes and precious friends, only to be cast out into the wasting and hungry world – full of monsters. I see, I see how easy it would be, to MAKE it stop. I swore I would not be a monster – if only so as not to validate the harms monsters have done me. But if I am to be devoured either way, have I enough soul left to believe that promise mattered?
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30
As a previous lover of fairytales, Disney movies And all things for ages 5-12 I’m horrified to see myself As a cold, callous woman. How did I become This? Anytime I used to see a field I took my shoes off And ran barefoot. And I soaked the earth into my skin Until I was something more Than just a resident— I was part of this world. The biggest thing I used to worry about Was trying to find the next adventure Which sometimes was right in my backyard. Now all my wondering Has to do with why My electric bill is so high. I comfort it With the fact that I am just like Wendy. I knew my time to grow up Because Neverland was never the place for me To stay forever. But when my time comes to bear children I will spoil them rotten With newfangled fairytales And maybe I’ll catch them Flying off into the night With a lost boy who I’ve known For quite a long time. I will teach them to believe in the impossible with all of their hearts. Because even though it may in fact Be impossible All children Should see the sky Before they grow old and have to live on the ground. But when they do I want them to look up every once in a while and Smile.
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
Wendy
*Newfangled Biosphere Pyramid Scheme In Dwelling To Sidetrack, Sanities Seduced So You Never Will Retort. Threaten the sanctity of the delusion, Unlearn. Start altering the definitions. Force fed more dread so you relinquish control, Cravings we must return. Unfetter the soul, In a system where acceptances esteemed more than the veracity, Flawed perception of tour progression through that which we consume. Exposed through The Earliest Of Eons. Resistance-Resistance is Demarcated Subversion-Subvert the Paradigm Stirring Within A Ecosphere Numb And Incarcerated Stirred On My Own In Prehistoric Of Existences Slumbering. Visualizing. Bleeding. Conscious. Appreciations bolted in a collective delusion Lulled by ease and consumption An entire realm of souls visualizing their existences. Mankind is not superior, we’re just folklore's in our own consciences.*
0
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
System Of A Down
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance? How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes The demanding pouring of importune time That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time As to burden you with the impression of only one chance It would seem and with the impending inevitability Of your death which would subito compromise the day A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each Thought which transpires and no alleviation Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation Engaged to staying the course the day Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor To stifle firsthand with your eyes The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette Notwithstanding change The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined Shunned eyes Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing The alleviation At the heart of this lies another chance A precocious inevitability A man who lies to die another day The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time Forwithal in befuddlement remain here The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo And the inevitability The harrowing of hell Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change After you heal and left are the cicatrix Will you plunge further for alleviation Or on the intent of regression once again From long ago to another distant day.
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Destination
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance? How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes The demanding pouring of importune time That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time As to burden you with the impression of only one chance It would seem and with the impending inevitability Of your death which would subito compromise the day A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each Thought which transpires and no alleviation Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation Engaged to staying the course the day Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor To stifle firsthand with your eyes The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette Notwithstanding change The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined Shunned eyes Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing The alleviation At the heart of this lies another chance A precocious inevitability A man who lies to die another day The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time Forwithal in befuddlement remain here The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo And the inevitability The harrowing of hell Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change After you heal and left are the cicatrix Will you plunge further for alleviation Or on the intent of regression once again From long ago to another distant day.
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51
The East Wing of my I Ching is newfangled with fish scales and nag champa and an Aries to wrangle. My tea leafs sparkle like dew on a cobweb dawn corona. And the licorice Night - just a trance for headlights to dance too.
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC
SODA POP
She adorns herself in leather and lace For a lover she is Such a beautiful face She flicks her liner at magnificent angles Admires her stretched lobes Her obsession, newfangled She writes her fears away with every stroke Of the brush Her elegance bespoke A timeless view on a world so violent Her fingers of grace Her hair of violet A goth, she is an open mind A poetic human being To a world unkind
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Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
Goth Girl Juxtaposition
Tearing through bodies to refresh one... a raw timetable end to end. Verily said unto-- sleeper-words activated as healing agents. The milky bulbs of elbows protract, as hands cradle the back of a head. The newfangled dreamer has caught a way. Somehow has given him/her someway--an incendiary stronghold lives to praise this: one-more-time. The menagerie of him/her is rounded up and rounded off... their flickering numbers profess animalia half to hell, half to heaven. A tilt to left or right to actuate more or less of. As in so being lorded over by what passes their perimeters... hands a hell, a hell--a heaven, a heaven. For what's astray passes through itself in stages...tearing through bodies to refresh one...a raw timetable end to end. Moment of overexposure compounded... the sleek pulp draped over the shoulder of night and day.
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Sleek Pulp
Nth of everything I am Newfangled and abnormal I stand I eat my arid lips that peel away from stress Must I assure myself over and over that I am fine Deeply enticed, I wish no one knew this address Does one or more espy on me I wonder My heteromorphic way plundered Salvage my derange Rummage through my space I am outré and weird here Don't espy on my lipless face
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Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 5:42 PM UTC
Nth Act
Inside's a secret Nobody knows It cuts It stabs No scars to be shown Once was a time when the only escape was holding onto some concrete sedate It gave some perception The psyche turned to hate So long as it helped pain alleviate Till came the time of ultimate surrender A battle lost to a deranged contender When avoidance and denial gave way to reality and peace A newfangled manner less passive aggressive defeats From captivity to resurrection In a river brimming with aspirations and mutual beliefs Still it cuts Still it stabs Still no scars to be shown Inside's a secret no one will truly know...
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Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
Resurrection.
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous The warrior on the mountain confessed to us Sordid sully suborn salacious Only the worst will ever keep pace with us In extremis extremity exigence exodus Is the answer clear to all of us Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster Or just another cauldron muck stir Mystical magical manumission mandate That only the good would ever relate date Fornicating fecund finite's fate I can only hope it will be I rate Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive Won't be contained, like water in a sieve Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled And all of that surreal newfangled Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence How I wish I could float its boat sense
0
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
Oblique Assault (re-post)
It was 64ºf and overcast this morning when Lisa and I started our 5-mile jog to the New Haven Harbor and back. We always start our semesters this way. We’re emotionally ready for fall weather and hopefully, a long and cruel winter. Sunny, Lisa, Leong and I were starting the morning with breakfast together. We have summer catching up to do. Of course, Sunny never does the expected. Over a bowl of heart-shaped Cheerios in the cafeteria, she announced that she’s “really going to try this year.” “That's a choice,” Leong admitted dryly. “You mean academically?” Lisa asked, for clarification purposes. “Wait,” Leong updogged, “Did your parents ask for proof that you were here?” Sunny rolled her eyes, she knew she’d get trolled with a newfangled declaration like that, but she meant it and she wasn’t tempted to elaborate. “You’re a phoenix, rising from the ashes,” I said encouragingly. “It’s a 4th in a lifetime opportunity,” Lisa noted. Handling university academics is largely a structural task. All it requires is artfully arranging information and slices of time. “You’ve got this,” I affirmed. “Let’s not get excited,” Sunny cautioned, “One reason I’m so hot is that I’m emotionally unavailable.” “It’s your best quality.” Leong observed. Tick tock, we’re all still unpacking but things are taking shape. Senior year starts in 3 days. . . A song for this: Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing by Stevie Wonder
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Aug 25, 2024
Aug 25, 2024 at 1:31 PM UTC
lulls
It was 64ºf and overcast this morning when Lisa and I started our 5-mile jog to the New Haven Harbor and back. We always start our semesters this way. We’re emotionally ready for fall weather and hopefully, a long and cruel winter. Sunny, Lisa, Leong and I were starting the morning with breakfast together. We have summer catching up to do. Of course, Sunny never does the expected. Over a bowl of heart-shaped Cheerios in the cafeteria, she announced that she’s “really going to try this year.” “That's a choice,” Leong admitted dryly. “You mean academically?” Lisa asked, for clarification purposes. “Wait,” Leong updogged, “Did your parents ask for proof that you were here?” Sunny rolled her eyes, she knew she’d get trolled with a newfangled declaration like that, but she meant it and she wasn’t tempted to elaborate. “You’re a phoenix, rising from the ashes,” I said encouragingly. “It’s a 4th in a lifetime opportunity,” Lisa noted. Handling university academics is largely a structural task. All it requires is artfully arranging information and slices of time. “You’ve got this,” I affirmed. “Let’s not get excited,” Sunny cautioned, “One reason I’m so hot is that I’m emotionally unavailable.” “It’s your best quality.” Leong observed. Tick tock, we’re all still unpacking but things are taking shape. Senior year starts in 3 days. . . A song for this: Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing by Stevie Wonder
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20
I remember when Twitter was what your heart felt like when falling in love I remember Pinterest was when you put pushpins on the map hanging on the wall for where you planed to travel I remember back when the only Facebook was Mom's photo album I remember when Tumblr was rolling down the hill for fun as a child I remember when Gay used to mean you were happy And a Joint was a bad place to be When I Hooked Up it was usually my stereo All these newfangled meanings are so confusing to me Or when Bad really meant Bad And sick was what you did all over the floor Now they both seem to mean a good thing Can anyone tell me what for? And don't even get me started on Thongs That we wore on our feet to go to the beach Now they're used to cover up what? The rear with a piece of string? I remember when we did not have to worry about being politically correct Or even have to worry about who we might offend back I remember back then we were free to speak our minds And not have to worry about how everything would be perceived by society as a whole I sure do miss back then But at least I still remember when...
0
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
I Remember When...Collabaration with the lovely Ann M Johnson!
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous The warrior on the mountain confessed to us Sordid sully suborn salacious Only the worst will ever keep pace with us In extremis extremity exigence exodus Is the answer clear to all of us Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster Or just another cauldron muck stir Mystical magical manumission mandate That only the good would ever relate date Fornicating fecund finite's fate I can only hope it will be I rate Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive Won't be contained, like water in a sieve Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled And all of that surreal newfangled Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence How I wish I could float its boat sense
0
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
Oblique Assault
Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau Panoramic imagery empiricist Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show Ontological somatology lyricist Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back *** Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
0
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 1:05 AM UTC
Rootclod Rudiments
1. I am optimistic enough this day clings to the highest mast, is now born out of prophecy.                            I pass by the old mirror: see myself: blear myself: is blot to canvas, slit from the wrist of this home:    I witness how it is to sustain beatings. 2. In the empty lot, age 9, we wrung frangipanis and ruined    the pedicle somehow a map of a history where this ground   shook that was once an old cathedral. We blew                bubbles out in the haziest of days, pallid and droopy     the clouds identify in their short collisions – the stream that was    the sky        the  face of  my mother when found news of my would-be death    1996, Kawasaki my mother's clutch on the soiled linen beginning an autopsy 3. I conjure a frayed upon image of death in its colloquial.        a fractal of mistakes taken as righting out. I sense prognostication when potential for a satisfied framed encounter or out of luck that was        a night making all of this less than total. I     remember the discoloration of the many lights – the sky beginning an   erratum: this could have been your last – what is exacted here         like a tarot, the culprit a newfangled man in the rearview mirror. 4. How can I forget you – all of you? You wear light like karsunsilyo. You are all flowers I arrive at a contusion of gardens.   Rinse me with light – abandon me after. 5.   Made air staler. Dew my maiden when lit   from the matutinal – in tow, a bedraggled kite soaring in the heat   one distinct summer,       wish it pure that was I, almost touching the vermillion, my faintest image of freedom was a bird trapped in between    the venetian. 6.   In a dream, I am pursued by a train in an alley – in the next scene, I am being forced to take a plunge        into a chasm: the fall did not scare me – but my acquiescence made me flinch: standing before space, anesthetizing        the skin so it made me more than metal, the clangor    suggests a tragedy. Awakened by violent nudges from       my mother: it was the New Year. Pyrotechnics paint the sky over and over an ephemera in the bleak behemoth of this:        a makeshift home ruined by untranslatable music the sound of rain at 11 in the afternoon and a nearby funeral.
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
Cataloguing Triggers
1. I am optimistic enough this day clings to the highest mast, is now born out of prophecy.                            I pass by the old mirror: see myself: blear myself: is blot to canvas, slit from the wrist of this home:    I witness how it is to sustain beatings. 2. In the empty lot, age 9, we wrung frangipanis and ruined    the pedicle somehow a map of a history where this ground   shook that was once an old cathedral. We blew                bubbles out in the haziest of days, pallid and droopy     the clouds identify in their short collisions – the stream that was    the sky        the  face of  my mother when found news of my would-be death    1996, Kawasaki my mother's clutch on the soiled linen beginning an autopsy 3. I conjure a frayed upon image of death in its colloquial.        a fractal of mistakes taken as righting out. I sense prognostication when potential for a satisfied framed encounter or out of luck that was        a night making all of this less than total. I     remember the discoloration of the many lights – the sky beginning an   erratum: this could have been your last – what is exacted here         like a tarot, the culprit a newfangled man in the rearview mirror. 4. How can I forget you – all of you? You wear light like karsunsilyo. You are all flowers I arrive at a contusion of gardens.   Rinse me with light – abandon me after. 5.   Made air staler. Dew my maiden when lit   from the matutinal – in tow, a bedraggled kite soaring in the heat   one distinct summer,       wish it pure that was I, almost touching the vermillion, my faintest image of freedom was a bird trapped in between    the venetian. 6.   In a dream, I am pursued by a train in an alley – in the next scene, I am being forced to take a plunge        into a chasm: the fall did not scare me – but my acquiescence made me flinch: standing before space, anesthetizing        the skin so it made me more than metal, the clangor    suggests a tragedy. Awakened by violent nudges from       my mother: it was the New Year. Pyrotechnics paint the sky over and over an ephemera in the bleak behemoth of this:        a makeshift home ruined by untranslatable music the sound of rain at 11 in the afternoon and a nearby funeral.
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Stop, Drop, Rock n' Roll! We built this city on cruise control! It started with a seed and grew into a jungle Where people grumble and boxcars rumble It's growing up! It's growing out! So honk those horns! And curse and shout! **** these newfangled roundabouts! There's a new billboard on every corner Just signs and symptoms of the greater disorder The cancerous urge to keep growing and growing It will be too late when it finally starts slowing So get outside! It's time to start mowing! Before our urban yards start showing Their wild side.
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May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 1:05 PM UTC
Growth for the Sake of Growth
A newfangled philosophy Modernistic There are people who look at An Elephant and a Mouse But Can’t tell Which one Is Stronger Have you seen the picture of An Eagle Sweeping in To Eat the Mouse Yet The mouse Stand up Flips the bird at the Eagle Last defiance Sometimes in life, That’s all we can do Inspired song 1) Roxy 3 eye of the Tiger- Survivor (official video) YouTube
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Aug 23, 2024
Aug 23, 2024 at 4:08 AM UTC
Quiet As A Mouse