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"nonliving" poems
They often judge the poet On the words that he thread Some readers formed his silhouette In each poetry that they've read Judge him not at one piece, else you'll be upset Because his pen can laughed then can bled In every second his mind will reset Truly, you'll never know what's inside his head In the universe of paper and quill He can create truth within lies He can put soul to nonliving Some of his creations will never die Every poesy made was alive Talked of its own tongue It will definitely survive Even the poet was long gone 9/23/2015 Mysterious Aries
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Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
Judge The Poet Not
Foaming sunlight makes love                  with the tender purple leaves of mango trees, light crafts a crust of luminescence,                   over the profusion of yellow and blue blooms, avenue trees vie with each other to  hold forth                   their  flowers on sun's water fall of light to bath. Evening doesn't show any sign of waning                    the ebullience the day had sowed in the world, "ANANDA" though unspoken as a word, aloud                     is heard by  inner being, making everyone rejoice, living and nonliving seamlessly join in,                     and swim in the swelling  waters of force of life. past invisible floats gently to the present                   flows towards a sea of tranquility crossing nights.
0
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
*Ananda Unmitigated
i wonder if it’d be cold against my neck or if it’d be hot, or if i’d have to heat it just to be sure. i wonder if it’d be as comfortable as sleeping, but nothing’s as comfortable as sleeping: as dreaming, as breathing, as thinking of being— as being nonliving and no longer breathing. so i doubt i’ll ever hang myself because to be fair, the dead can breathe no air.
0
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
it's a leash, get it straight
deep in the meadow as all rebirths within in the sun in the midst of early spring darkness is descending and beneath the fallen raindrops i am the only nonliving thing
0
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
the depth of change
Leaving those trusting eyes— was indeed the cruelest act I have ever partaken in. Tagging along after numerous hugs, These kids claimed that white bus—titling it as mortal enemy. Now this nonliving object was my ultimately my enemy. Silently they wept, I wrap my arms around her, I gave everything I had to offer. Hope Washing over the diluted curvatures of my face, my mind began to spin out of control. Then his youthful face hit the floor like a bag of unwanted rocks—Pain severed my core. Every motherly instinct I possessed now Stood, perched in tip-toed fashion. Stunning those hopeful faces, I turned my back— like everyone else who had come before me. Sliding into the bus seat one final time, my numbness took over—aching taking refuge on a limb. Had I held them back from their victory? Or had I helped them pursue it? Transforming, I will never be the same. Will I go back for those kids?
0
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
Spellbound
Even the walls have their ears, Although they are nonliving, ****** cries were overheard, Easily by the walls themselves, **** sounds of ********** Deflowering the young wife, Roping in spies for the purpose, Opening the ***** so delicate, People so enjoy overhearing, Pretty sights shine right upfront, In their addiction to **** time, No secrets remain virtuously, Good habits are hard to develop.
0
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Blame It On The Walls
dead bodies moving dead bodies you know the theme, the scheme, the thought and the idea the bodies, dead, paying the bills, moving dead past the dawn eyeballs rolling up as windows closing and doors close and open the bodies, mass production, lots of bodies Monday, Tuesday, Shitday Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Christday Neighbor Allah never greets anyone and he talks to himself in echoes Buddha is all smiles and virtues but no muscle, Buddha's daughters are out clubbing tonight ******* their oriental curves, selling their oriental scents and cold white skin to Allah's *** deprived sons Christ is the only father and he disowns his nieces and nephews, I knew years back that I am a distant relative just dead bodies, yours and mine produce, corporate livestock, labels from the heaviest bills handed over in sinister alleyways, sinister exchanges, hitman to hitman, extraction to extraction, fraction by fraction, bodies serves as platforms, nonliving chopping boards for the butchers dressed up as elves the bodies, limb by limb, sagging skins, rivers of hairfalls, scratch marks, Ms. Universe stretch marks, the *** tapes of the cheerleaders whom silent and wise boys yearned for all through years of fading innocence Closeted gay professionals keeping their pointed ******* when nothing's wrong with them until consent turns from probationary to mandatory and hate and red and blue and green and yellow flags and pedophiles and bigots and white supremacists and Allah whisperers and Allah fanatics and Buddha hypocrites and China takes over the world and feminists, and third and fourth and fifth and so on genders and Trump and memes and Filipinos and mental health and memes and mental health and memes and literature and literature and activists and who ****** who and politicians and what Americans, Australians, Chinese, Japanese, British, Candian, Irish and and North Koreans and K-Pop plastic lips and hips who young girls and boys from isolated islands gets ****** for and hipsters and the nine to fives and the ***** to give and the snobbish *** girls in parties, in clubs, in alleys who wants to get ****** by all the celebrity status ***** all just becomes a tiny pinch for the dead bodies not to see and point the flower and shoot the gun to end the human war.
0
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
resurrection in smokey mountain, Philippines.
dead bodies moving dead bodies you know the theme, the scheme, the thought and the idea the bodies, dead, paying the bills, moving dead past the dawn eyeballs rolling up as windows closing and doors close and open the bodies, mass production, lots of bodies Monday, Tuesday, Shitday Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Christday Neighbor Allah never greets anyone and he talks to himself in echoes Buddha is all smiles and virtues but no muscle, Buddha's daughters are out clubbing tonight ******* their oriental curves, selling their oriental scents and cold white skin to Allah's *** deprived sons Christ is the only father and he disowns his nieces and nephews, I knew years back that I am a distant relative just dead bodies, yours and mine produce, corporate livestock, labels from the heaviest bills handed over in sinister alleyways, sinister exchanges, hitman to hitman, extraction to extraction, fraction by fraction, bodies serves as platforms, nonliving chopping boards for the butchers dressed up as elves the bodies, limb by limb, sagging skins, rivers of hairfalls, scratch marks, Ms. Universe stretch marks, the *** tapes of the cheerleaders whom silent and wise boys yearned for all through years of fading innocence Closeted gay professionals keeping their pointed ******* when nothing's wrong with them until consent turns from probationary to mandatory and hate and red and blue and green and yellow flags and pedophiles and bigots and white supremacists and Allah whisperers and Allah fanatics and Buddha hypocrites and China takes over the world and feminists, and third and fourth and fifth and so on genders and Trump and memes and Filipinos and mental health and memes and mental health and memes and literature and literature and activists and who ****** who and politicians and what Americans, Australians, Chinese, Japanese, British, Candian, Irish and and North Koreans and K-Pop plastic lips and hips who young girls and boys from isolated islands gets ****** for and hipsters and the nine to fives and the ***** to give and the snobbish *** girls in parties, in clubs, in alleys who wants to get ****** by all the celebrity status ***** all just becomes a tiny pinch for the dead bodies not to see and point the flower and shoot the gun to end the human war.
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39
i know that God is always present forever timeless from nothingness, he created Himself and the world we live in thus he is the maker of all things living and nonliving from the lifeless dust he makes Adam so then he breathes the spirit of life into man thus allowed them both to dwell in the Garden of Eden he makes a woman helper for Adam's growth for what purpose and for what reason God exists from self-creation The stars in heaven are the shadow of God God created himself out of nothingness just by saying...be and He made it so God does not need a reason nor purpose when something happened everything sprung forth God said that I am that I am and it shall always be until eternity God's word is sufficient if we submit and obey to His will Lord let me follow your sweet heaven's light to receive your treasure He makes my spirit grow
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Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
He Makes My Spirit Grow
To whom It may concern If I haven't Write Something Reflecting your vibes Believe me You don't exist To all the living And the nonliving
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Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 1:12 AM UTC
Ink Matters
Is it sad that life lacks the poetic flare But that is only if you are blind For I find the flare is everywhere In the chipped white painted cement *** Were dead plants lay to rot In the lightly faded red brick buildings That businesses reside in But over head in night times One can see the light shines And finds a friendly face Here perhaps those cracked sidewalks Were children use to jump and say That is the way we crack our mothers back The root that saw such sidewalks rise Slowly pushing out of the earth until The sidewalks wears a rising crack And that is only the nonliving things That catch my fancy Wait till you see how nature inspires me
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
Untitled
It wasn’t even delivery it was a **** pick up. All I wanted was a medium one topping. Just a delicious Papa John’s with a little beef. Well, turns out me and my car were about to have some beef. My car and pizza have a history together. Long story short my car is the only nonliving and living thing to hate pizza. I was a pizza delivery driver for a few short months and my car loved driving around except when it came to pizzas and delivering them. Like I said my car is a human or at minimum a living thing of sorts. The tan-ass ************ smelled the pizza as I scooted behind the wheel with my medium one topping. One sniff and three different lights came popping out at me. The ABS brake light, air bag light, and the battery light. My car is maniacal! Once I got back home my car wouldn’t start and now I need a new battery and alternator. My car’s best friend even tried to give her a jump but she wouldn’t accept the love. I love you my lovely car but why do you have to hate pizza so much.
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Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
Pick Up (pt. 2)
There are nights that I want to take the world with me and I just don't know what to do with its burden, I let go empty handed and still feel the weight on my shoulders. I turn to people, literature, and sometimes to God himself and still, I come empty like these cigarettes in and out of my system. It's hard to stay hopeful when the help that comes out of their mouths stay as mere letters in thin air. For a world that is over populated, I feel so empty that it's humorous, irrelevant and hidden. I just need a little bit of time to reflect about everything, from years and years back and when it all comes clear to me, I'll shatter the glass: A final form, reached right before its due.
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Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
a nonliving sentient
I don't need drugs to help me cope I drink out of affinity not out of sorrow All I have are my fist and a obstacle As my sorrow fights my happiness Same time I'm fighting a nonliving enemy At same time I'm fighting bad memories I make the mistake of letting it get to me Nothing wrong with blood on the walls To the sane something not right with me Replace one pain with another It reset me or put me back in place Crash my fist til it hurt then get numb Pent the animosity in my mind Physical wounds I incessantly reopen Emotion always scar me both ways I'll pray and do thing to lead me away I'll fake a smile surround myself with good It a battle with no end or liberation It give me little rest and very little peace
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
Crash
Staring on my wrist Should I cut it piece by piece To make my pain release By the anxiety I can't ease I have tons of problem to face But I have no guts to make it fade Maybe the answer is this lace Because these are useless, the blade You were my happy pill And because of you, I'm starting to feel ill Maybe this artificial happiness will do Makes me forget all of you Will this things makes me feel alive? And save me from my nonliving life Is this the right answer 'Cause I'm a dying flower But He light me up Showed the way to make it stop He released me from this shelf And now I can start my life with my real self.
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Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 12:22 PM UTC
Dangerous Thoughts