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"nuture" poems
My deadest fiance you give life to me, you are the light in the dark, when I'm near you I'm nothing but happy, happier than I've ever felt with anyone. You are the reason I smile, the reason I get up everyday and say I'm in love, your my most valued friend, your my other half, my best friend, the future mother of my kid(s), but above all your my fiance and I'll always love you, protect you, care for you, love and nuture you til the day we die. I love you so much you're my world, my shining star in the blank clear night sky, my happy place. My dearest your all I think about from the time I wake up, to the time I go to sleep and even in my dreams and if I could I'd do my life over and only have you as my love because you're the only one worthy of it. I live you and I'm glad you're mine and in my life with out you I'd probably be dead.
0
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
My dearest fiance
You ask me how I can love you You who is broken, and limping, and lame I stop you before the tear can fall Taking them from your eyes And crying them out my own I tell you the truth of absolute love I tell you I wear no blinders I see you as you are I see your imperfections but we are all flawed Those minute cracks in your soul Trickle out pain in swirling hues of tender that highlight your heart A heart you profess is black and stone But it beats strong within my chest Where I will nuture it and feed it with my own I see all the nicks and bruises and breaks They are not reasons to walk away They are the very thing that makes you worthy Your damage healed in stregnth You are not broken You are beautiful in all things A tender heart that bleeds for others That hates you for not being better...for me Don't you know?  Can't you see? There is no better, you are as good as it gets It is I who is unworthy And in all your fear of being alone, you overlook the truth of who  you are of who I am when I am with you You see beauty in every corner of derelict You fill my cracks with your joy To the point where you feel you run out, not even knowing you gave it away You see in me what I am unable to see in myself And because it is you who sees it I believe you I see your cracks and spackle them with love I see the scars and am thankful you survived the journey And tomorrow, or next week next month or next year When you have grown strong in my love When the time comes that you realize I am naught but pieces duct taped together When you  see the truth of what I have always known I will still love you When you move on to brighter days and greener pastures I will still love you When you see that you are worthy of more than I am able to give you I will still love you, as I do now For I never learned how to unlove someone And you have always been worthy
0
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
letters from nick
You ask me how I can love you You who is broken, and limping, and lame I stop you before the tear can fall Taking them from your eyes And crying them out my own I tell you the truth of absolute love I tell you I wear no blinders I see you as you are I see your imperfections but we are all flawed Those minute cracks in your soul Trickle out pain in swirling hues of tender that highlight your heart A heart you profess is black and stone But it beats strong within my chest Where I will nuture it and feed it with my own I see all the nicks and bruises and breaks They are not reasons to walk away They are the very thing that makes you worthy Your damage healed in stregnth You are not broken You are beautiful in all things A tender heart that bleeds for others That hates you for not being better...for me Don't you know?  Can't you see? There is no better, you are as good as it gets It is I who is unworthy And in all your fear of being alone, you overlook the truth of who  you are of who I am when I am with you You see beauty in every corner of derelict You fill my cracks with your joy To the point where you feel you run out, not even knowing you gave it away You see in me what I am unable to see in myself And because it is you who sees it I believe you I see your cracks and spackle them with love I see the scars and am thankful you survived the journey And tomorrow, or next week next month or next year When you have grown strong in my love When the time comes that you realize I am naught but pieces duct taped together When you  see the truth of what I have always known I will still love you When you move on to brighter days and greener pastures I will still love you When you see that you are worthy of more than I am able to give you I will still love you, as I do now For I never learned how to unlove someone And you have always been worthy
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45
me no spit English, me no no Englis, OK? me barbarrrian, why u one me speak Englis? u teach me inglish then u want me slave, ya? u teach me englis and mik mee go from nuture, from da trees and de lakes and hum of me ancesdors, ya? and you teach me englis glive me your stinkin additudes mik me pollute wold and **** wold like you, yes? I del u, me spit no englis but sdill u offer skolarsips and mik me shange name, and then tick on Englis name, ya? then peeple call me englis name like tom, ***** hairy or my wife become susan or margate and me become kristian, yeah? why I say no englis still u want to tich me englsi and give me book and mi say, mi say, luk at my nikid bady laik da die I was born liiiv me one don't tiich me englis or wan day I will kurs and swera in inglis like who, who, who, like that monster I hard play story is he nime Caliban, yeah? me barbarrbaian, dun't mike i civilized like u; me no no inglis; me happi with me lunguge and me hum and my trees and likes and annncesdral places¦ I no wants to spit engilsi and khanges my name and culturte! and un I no wan to go fom humen! leave me lone wan, I say! me no spit englis! or I put u in *** if you no go!
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Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 3:06 AM UTC
me no spit englis
You ask me how I can love you You who is broken, and limping, and lame I stop you before the tear can fall Taking them from your eyes And crying them out my own I tell you the truth of absolute love I tell you I wear no blinders I see you as you are I see your imperfections but we are all flawed Those minute cracks in your soul Trickle out pain in swirling hues of tender that highlight your heart A heart you profess is black and stone But it beats strong within my chest Where I will nuture it and feed it with my own I see all the nicks and bruises and breaks They are not reasons to walk away They are the very thing that makes you worthy Your damage healed in stregnth You are not broken You are beautiful in all things A tender heart that bleeds for others That hates you for not being better...for me Don't you know?  Can't you see? There is no better, you are as good as it gets It is I who is unworthy And in all your fear of being alone, you overlook the truth of who  you are of who I am when I am with you You see beauty in every corner of derelict You fill my cracks with your joy To the point where you feel you run out, not even knowing you gave it away You see in me what I am unable to see in myself And because it is you who sees it I believe you I see your cracks and spackle them with love I see the scars and am thankful you survived the journey And tomorrow, or next week, next month, or next year When you have grown strong in my love When the time comes that you realize I am naught but pieces duct taped together I will still love you When you  see the truth of what I have always known I will still love you When you move on to brighter days and greener pastures I will still love you When you see that you are worthy of more than I am able to give you I will still love you, as I do now For I never learned how to unlove someone And you have always been worthy
0
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
Absolute Love
You ask me how I can love you You who is broken, and limping, and lame I stop you before the tear can fall Taking them from your eyes And crying them out my own I tell you the truth of absolute love I tell you I wear no blinders I see you as you are I see your imperfections but we are all flawed Those minute cracks in your soul Trickle out pain in swirling hues of tender that highlight your heart A heart you profess is black and stone But it beats strong within my chest Where I will nuture it and feed it with my own I see all the nicks and bruises and breaks They are not reasons to walk away They are the very thing that makes you worthy Your damage healed in stregnth You are not broken You are beautiful in all things A tender heart that bleeds for others That hates you for not being better...for me Don't you know?  Can't you see? There is no better, you are as good as it gets It is I who is unworthy And in all your fear of being alone, you overlook the truth of who  you are of who I am when I am with you You see beauty in every corner of derelict You fill my cracks with your joy To the point where you feel you run out, not even knowing you gave it away You see in me what I am unable to see in myself And because it is you who sees it I believe you I see your cracks and spackle them with love I see the scars and am thankful you survived the journey And tomorrow, or next week, next month, or next year When you have grown strong in my love When the time comes that you realize I am naught but pieces duct taped together I will still love you When you  see the truth of what I have always known I will still love you When you move on to brighter days and greener pastures I will still love you When you see that you are worthy of more than I am able to give you I will still love you, as I do now For I never learned how to unlove someone And you have always been worthy
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46
Restrain me. The angel of mercy. Who thinks she can put the world to rights. Don't blame me for nature. Hold me high for the care that I give. It's a spirit of nuture. Wish I could split it. Tear it apart. Not posses caring heart. If I were a ***** Would I maybe be rich. Not killing with kindness. Can't fix the world as much as I wish. You know I so want to be a ***** A hardened cow. Not in my nature. Just don't know how. Who taught me I could sort it. Just the way I fell. To try to sort my nature out. Would need a magic spell. Caring nature is a hex. My heart and soul both well and truly vexed. By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
0
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
Nature is a ***** (Not Mother Nature!)
She is a Flower. Not as pretty or as loved As the fairytale Rose. Nor as ugly or avoided As the invasive Dandilion. Yet, she is not as average As the Daisy or the Tulip. She is brilliantly subtle. Unlike the Rose, who's achievements And beauty have been boasted for ages. Nor the Dandilions, who have nothing But false promises to offer. Yet, still unlike the Daisies and Tulips, Who offer only fake love and false beauty. She is a solitary friend. Whereas the obnoxious Rose chooses only Those who fit the likes of itself. And the Dandilion only attracts those Who are not annoyed by its attitude. Even still, there are those affected by the Daisy's lies, And the Tulips, who do little behind masks. She surrounds herself with the Dandilions, To make up for her ability to be a Rose, But inability to care. The Tulips and Daisies learn to outshine The presence that has always glowed within. She grows in shadows, Struggling for light, And nobody notices the jewel of the flower that she is. Because the Roses, and the Dandilions, and the Tulips Grow like weeds around her So she loses sight of what she could be. She is a Flower. A dying species. Love her, nuture her, and help her to grow. There are only a few that will ever know What she looks like When she blooms. Be one.
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Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 5:30 PM UTC
Revelation
Whether we like it or not, Friendship is a contract Which, when mutually accepted, Binds us closely together. In friendship, we are bound emotionally, We have a social bond Which entails a responsibility To care and be cared for; To maintain and nuture, To preserve the boundary's, Hold to the mould, And endure.... Endure beyond hardship, Social discomfort,illness And even death. Trust me..... To be a true friend You must undertake this contract And honour it indefinately. You enter the roller coaster of emotion Entailed with the close mortal link With another soul. Friendship, if taken seriously, Is a heavy responsibility But it's benefits bestow the participants With the sure knowledge Of a close warmth of contact, Of understanding and dependability And a confidence of spirit In knowing that out there.... Someone very special cares. M.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Words of Understanding for Betterdays after reading "Write" & "Speak"
she came from a broken home, wasn't to ambitious and the fact she was loose was surreptitious she did this to make up for what her childhood lacked so she picked dudes up and droped them quick like jacks so it wasn't surprising that after a while her abdomen became an embryo's domicile she didn't want it but her parents weren't pro-choice she might as well have had strep throat, had no vocie her days were then filled with insults down right explict all this for just one unsurpervised visit after nine months of the tribulations of misogyny it was time to bring forth her progeny after a few ardous hours she gave birth to a girl which suprisingly filled her with mirth she  relized she had something to live for and she promised to give her everything she need and to not let anything encumber her daughter's success as she watched her slumber she named her rose because she if it took till the world's doom she would nuture this child untill she finally blooms
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
revelations part 2
I search the cupboard for the hidden bottle of wine At that moment my heart breaks Your hands tangle in my hair Your kiss taste of sweet alcohol and indesicion I will anchor myself into your arms Is my secret safe with you? I feel so disconnected from who I am A moon that is to late For you can't hang it in the sky I shall gather and nuture all the humanity I have and move forward Will you see me for who I am? Or leave me behind ? You have broken my bonds Made me into someone I'm not I will nourish you with my elegance Take away the affliction That I cause everyday Are you lost without me? Is everything going to be alright ? Will I heal myself? Tell me as I hide under the rain its alright Come to me and be my angel My lifeless eyes scream for you
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Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 11:23 PM UTC
Lifeless
Because my parents let me run around naked for too long. Because I was always up a tree without a sturdy branch. Because I was a good sneak. Because my Babcia gave me too many cookies. Because my dziadkowie always said my dress was beautiful. Because I like to shake it, shake it, shake it. Because it's too easy to cry. Because I'd rather not yell. Because I don't want to. Because I forgot. Because I pretended not to understand, but really didn't know what to say. Because I like it. Because I didn't understand, but said it anyway. Because it's too hard to cry, when all you cry is smoke and mirrors and misunderstanding. Because I don't know why the caged bird sings. Because I'd rather scream. Because you have long, curly hair that you let me braid. Because you sang with me that one night. Because you let me hold your hand, even though I know you don't like holding hands. Because you have red hair, and love ears. Becuase you are nature and nuture. Because you are tall. Because you give the best hugs. Because you left your ***** dishes in the fridge. Because you told me your secrets in my car that night, and let me tell you mine. Because you always make me laugh, and I can always make you laugh. Because you have red hair, and dance. Because you are short. Because you love so much. Because you're hard to love but I love you anyway. Because you taught me how to be myself, even if it seems like sometimes you forget who you are. Because if at first you don't succeed, tango around the kitchen and try again. Because you reminded me how to be sassy. Because you taught me how to do a stall. Because I still don't know what to think of you. Because you pretended to be my mom so I could adopt a cat. Because you trusted me, and had high expectations. Because you let me go. Because you still return my phone calls, and eat peach ice cream with me. Because you knew Smokey. Because you were beautiful, and I'm sorry I didn't know you were hurting on the inside. Because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Because I don't know any other way. You ask me why? I can think of a million things. Why not?
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Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
Why?
Because my parents let me run around naked for too long. Because I was always up a tree without a sturdy branch. Because I was a good sneak. Because my Babcia gave me too many cookies. Because my dziadkowie always said my dress was beautiful. Because I like to shake it, shake it, shake it. Because it's too easy to cry. Because I'd rather not yell. Because I don't want to. Because I forgot. Because I pretended not to understand, but really didn't know what to say. Because I like it. Because I didn't understand, but said it anyway. Because it's too hard to cry, when all you cry is smoke and mirrors and misunderstanding. Because I don't know why the caged bird sings. Because I'd rather scream. Because you have long, curly hair that you let me braid. Because you sang with me that one night. Because you let me hold your hand, even though I know you don't like holding hands. Because you have red hair, and love ears. Becuase you are nature and nuture. Because you are tall. Because you give the best hugs. Because you left your ***** dishes in the fridge. Because you told me your secrets in my car that night, and let me tell you mine. Because you always make me laugh, and I can always make you laugh. Because you have red hair, and dance. Because you are short. Because you love so much. Because you're hard to love but I love you anyway. Because you taught me how to be myself, even if it seems like sometimes you forget who you are. Because if at first you don't succeed, tango around the kitchen and try again. Because you reminded me how to be sassy. Because you taught me how to do a stall. Because I still don't know what to think of you. Because you pretended to be my mom so I could adopt a cat. Because you trusted me, and had high expectations. Because you let me go. Because you still return my phone calls, and eat peach ice cream with me. Because you knew Smokey. Because you were beautiful, and I'm sorry I didn't know you were hurting on the inside. Because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Because I don't know any other way. You ask me why? I can think of a million things. Why not?
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46
I am waiting for you. I have been since your last call; the last words that left your lips, the way they shaped each sound, crisp with feeling; the last hold I received, warm hands withdrawn into the cold. And now I’m busy playing your constant, forever eternal mind games; waiting for an end I know has to happen, and waiting for you to make your moves and marks, haunting mistakes or gracious choices, whatever they happen to be in your mind. And now I’m busy holding my heart in my hands, watching all the people pass me waiting on the ***** street, feeling awkward, feeling stood up, nursing it from the rain and polluted breaths of people eyeing off my treasure, smoke steaming from gaping mouths and sharp exhales, like cascades of shining gems and mounds of glorious entitlements, rolling down dreams to those huddled beneath the city lights. And now I’m busy deciding how long to keep holding it. Or to place it back inside it’s chest; to thrum and pulse alone regardless, because I told it to. And now I’m busy trying to adjust, to leave this alone, move my feet and leave my post, waiting for you. Keeping me and you alive is exhausting. Draining nuture and tears, touches and examinations to check that we are ok. Are we ok? I haven’t heard from you in weeks, but you said you would be here. To tell me your answer. To make all this relentless pressure in my skull, tension in my body go away. What happened to you not being the bad guy? Like everyone who trailed crumbs of running-out love, driving to me though the gas tank has finite space, and held out commitment as they cowered behind it. I haven’t heard from you. And I desperately need to hear from you. Should I stay, or should I go? Are we meeting halfway, or are you expecting me to walk to you? But I’m not. I haven’t heard from you. And I don’t know if I want to anymore. Or whether I should just make this stop. Whether I should stop denying it, and commence the pain that stems with loneliness myself. To be honest with myself that it is what I have to feel. To escape from you. And let myself breathe and mouth the words ‘I miss you’ to the empty air.
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 5:56 AM UTC
Waiting For You
I am waiting for you. I have been since your last call; the last words that left your lips, the way they shaped each sound, crisp with feeling; the last hold I received, warm hands withdrawn into the cold. And now I’m busy playing your constant, forever eternal mind games; waiting for an end I know has to happen, and waiting for you to make your moves and marks, haunting mistakes or gracious choices, whatever they happen to be in your mind. And now I’m busy holding my heart in my hands, watching all the people pass me waiting on the ***** street, feeling awkward, feeling stood up, nursing it from the rain and polluted breaths of people eyeing off my treasure, smoke steaming from gaping mouths and sharp exhales, like cascades of shining gems and mounds of glorious entitlements, rolling down dreams to those huddled beneath the city lights. And now I’m busy deciding how long to keep holding it. Or to place it back inside it’s chest; to thrum and pulse alone regardless, because I told it to. And now I’m busy trying to adjust, to leave this alone, move my feet and leave my post, waiting for you. Keeping me and you alive is exhausting. Draining nuture and tears, touches and examinations to check that we are ok. Are we ok? I haven’t heard from you in weeks, but you said you would be here. To tell me your answer. To make all this relentless pressure in my skull, tension in my body go away. What happened to you not being the bad guy? Like everyone who trailed crumbs of running-out love, driving to me though the gas tank has finite space, and held out commitment as they cowered behind it. I haven’t heard from you. And I desperately need to hear from you. Should I stay, or should I go? Are we meeting halfway, or are you expecting me to walk to you? But I’m not. I haven’t heard from you. And I don’t know if I want to anymore. Or whether I should just make this stop. Whether I should stop denying it, and commence the pain that stems with loneliness myself. To be honest with myself that it is what I have to feel. To escape from you. And let myself breathe and mouth the words ‘I miss you’ to the empty air.
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61
If only we could read minds, what we might find might not mightly suprise us. Nuture made it so, that our appearances might suggest our certainty on which way to go. One sense suggests we belong there. One stare, suggests admiration or irritation. Its all in our heads. One sentence made, even when we dont really mean it. Its all in our heads. Goals become unclearer and more in number as the seconds make us older. Its all in our hands. They say Fate can not be changed. Truth is, people say alot of things so that the things they are used to might not be changed. Its all in our hands. Life is not a slow walk. The unfortunates might happen, so long we can lift a leg, the trophy is ours. Everything we see, both in the physical and spiritual realm was created with the mind, the Oven of the Future. The future is there, we are here, our minds up here. We are getting there.
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
Our Minds are like The Oven
He bought me my first binder for Christmas with the money he borrowed. Too bad his parents don't even know who he his. They spell his name as if femininity can be felt through the words of his given birth name. C for the courage he has to go through , h for his pronouns. R for every word they speak he will always make faking it look revolutionary. I, I will never be as strong as him. S, do they see that he is not their daughter but their son? Their emotions dripped like candle wax slowly melting and hardening against each other and for them it was their safety, their dreamland when reality just couldn't feel any worse. His parents scoffed and said that he must go to therapy like the confessionals he's forced into each sunday. His sins he must beg god to forgive but they don't see him like I do. A, for the days he can't appeal to them he appeals to her to make their refuge. N, not for nuture but nature this is all human nature. T, time, he must wait to be who he is. O, I will always know him as an overcomer.  N, he can't muster up the words to say never. Even when they mispronounce his name and give him the wrong gender. He will merely play dress up for them and they will never know the Anton that I know
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Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
My dear friend Anton
I am the message, I inspire set souls on fire. A vestige of hope in days of darkness I speak words of revolution I can be the solution if you act now so don't detract from the words I am saying and the message given which is driven home with concrete verbs and feeling sealing the change for the future I teach I nuture souls with love and not disdain I heal the pain of the poor but i shame the guilty with words fired like justice driven arrows to make them atone for their sins but I let them change themselves within and their ways I am the message think feel me absorb my words.
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Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 6:51 AM UTC
I am the message
I want love, I need love, Where is love.... They tell you love is in family, But they hate... They tell you love is in you, In order to find it, you have to look in the crevasses of your heart, But within you , It's reenactments of a ****** scene , Tell me again , Can't you answer my question? Where is love ? I'm looking for love , Love can you see me ? You want love from me , I'm not earthly , I can't give you what you need.. My love can't even nuture me, When I'm in time of need.. How can I learn to love you, When I'm half loving me... I create duplicates of paper hearts, Made up of broken sea shells .. Forgive me if I'm distant but loving, I'm convinced I need help...
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Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 1:23 AM UTC
Destination not found.
You're the winter flower Blooming with the snow A fragile beauty built to cherish Eternity in your eyes I am just a vine Stronger than the rest They try to stomp me out Oh how I contest If they come to pick you My thorns shall shred their skin The only thing I ask Is that you nuture me within
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Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 12:34 AM UTC
Deep Roots
In all this world of wonders, where is the place for us? In all the vastness of history, what time is there for us? In the midst of claims of freedom, do we have a choice? Is the singular moment that once glistened The only moment we shall ever see? I fear that if we lived a thousand years We might never have our time in the sun. We who move in shadows to make a life for others We who toil unnoticed who give and yet seem destined never to receive. I do not speak for myself - that would seem too strange, But for the others who, hidden from sight, are drained, Not by some enemy or creature of vile nature, But by those very people they have given themself to nuture. Is this the price we must pay? Not only abandoned but denied.
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 12:17 AM UTC
For Those Denied
In this vast world I thank you by word These people who chose to spend And nuture talents that bend For you knew That there was something new That could rot while fresh Talents of the young,minds still fresh Not enough to say Attention you pay Your time you sacrifice Us you service Broader even you grow Your territories shall ever grow The world shall worship you Like for me I celebrate In a ewe Just for my success to join you To all poets in here Let us remain to teach here Comments that never cease A good to defend case Success in this field to achieve And die to the archive For the ever new In the years,more or few To know You ever existed And Somehow touched someone somewhere
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
thank you
I want to feel like your warmth on my skin is enough. That every move you make is all consuming and as I wish intimacy was something I'm good at, it's not. So I sway the thoughts away in my mind like I sway my hips and I wish I could give someone some sort of bliss but the blisters on my memory keep busting and everything I never wanted to feel again pours it's way out and paints the crevices of my mind. I want to feel special. Like every move I make is something to you. Like the waves that beg to kiss high tide like my tiger stripes beg to kiss my thighs. Maybe my mind is just poison. Maybe the pistol to my throat at a young age set in stone that I'm nothing but a grave stone amongst a growing garden of birth and new beginnings that will never be me. I am always the shell casing of who I wish to be and no matter how much I think I am pushing towards something, I am always holding myself back. I step into the spotlight only to be over shadowed by my own guilt and denial of what I should already be well aware of. I'm not sure this makes sense anymore. And I am sure that these poems are just eulogies someone will read at my funeral or words that will paint and pour over my obituary. I haven't been the same since that February, the one when I lost my happy and gained a whole new chapter of my life I feel like I didn't even write, that feels like just an added story to make things more complicated for me and more interesting for everyone else. We all feed of off the misery and the interesting, we cling to the things that are a mystery to us because drama is in our nature and nuture never had anything to do with the way I was brought up. It was all mere circumstance because if my parents had it any other way they would've tried to raise me. But instead my father raised glasses and instead my mother raised prices and work and ***** got in the way of new gym shoes and admiration. I'm not sure I feel anything anymore. And these doors to my future hold a lock I do not yet have a key for. But that doesn't mean I'll stop looking. That doesn't mean there's nothing behind those doors. I'm living, to live for more.
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
The awakening.
I want to feel like your warmth on my skin is enough. That every move you make is all consuming and as I wish intimacy was something I'm good at, it's not. So I sway the thoughts away in my mind like I sway my hips and I wish I could give someone some sort of bliss but the blisters on my memory keep busting and everything I never wanted to feel again pours it's way out and paints the crevices of my mind. I want to feel special. Like every move I make is something to you. Like the waves that beg to kiss high tide like my tiger stripes beg to kiss my thighs. Maybe my mind is just poison. Maybe the pistol to my throat at a young age set in stone that I'm nothing but a grave stone amongst a growing garden of birth and new beginnings that will never be me. I am always the shell casing of who I wish to be and no matter how much I think I am pushing towards something, I am always holding myself back. I step into the spotlight only to be over shadowed by my own guilt and denial of what I should already be well aware of. I'm not sure this makes sense anymore. And I am sure that these poems are just eulogies someone will read at my funeral or words that will paint and pour over my obituary. I haven't been the same since that February, the one when I lost my happy and gained a whole new chapter of my life I feel like I didn't even write, that feels like just an added story to make things more complicated for me and more interesting for everyone else. We all feed of off the misery and the interesting, we cling to the things that are a mystery to us because drama is in our nature and nuture never had anything to do with the way I was brought up. It was all mere circumstance because if my parents had it any other way they would've tried to raise me. But instead my father raised glasses and instead my mother raised prices and work and ***** got in the way of new gym shoes and admiration. I'm not sure I feel anything anymore. And these doors to my future hold a lock I do not yet have a key for. But that doesn't mean I'll stop looking. That doesn't mean there's nothing behind those doors. I'm living, to live for more.
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5
The soul opens itself to the golden rays of the sun. Burns hate from flesh as love cools wounds on one... Who loved another Expected nothing...gave all they had Strength Adoration... The true recipe for a meal to nuture and fuel two once lost in cold waves of nuclear rads.... Closed minds fuse with blind rage shoots a gun and kills the mokingbird in his cage. As the night turned to day and the Creator has seen the rubble of aftermath... The spirit gets slapped back from the dead of blind rage The heart beats back to life Wounded flies from closed up cages. Have you seen her? My mokingbird... Us two hearts singing as one Fused by truth True harmonies.... Open the mind....... Hate becomes a past that dissappeared with one word that defined, "KIND.."
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
Mokingbird
I try to make it worth it Don't you see that im devasted Try to tell you who I am Meant for life cause I'm gonna be me im gonna be free But you ignore me lock up your heart from me You never let it go free I beg you Even go down on my knees Just listen Open up your heart for me that is all i need you dont let me be happy its because of you that im frown upon every time i stand up you push me down But i tell you this know im stronger now im wiser now i dont look back in my past i go toward the future but i stand in the present that is what i nuture i meant to be me i meant to befree and now you lock up in syphony now im not what i use to be im here were im meant to be
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Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
Starting Over
I knew you'd follow I knew you'd absorb my dreams Character isn't a given Character isn't what it seems Opportunistic details matter Opportunistic timing assured Make sure you treat them wisely Make sure you feel adored A single mistake is fatal A single mistake makes you numb You will have to learn to change You will have to learn to succumb Hear the voices around you Hear the voices talk They will walk into your world They will walk where you walk Build a sturdy strong platform Build a sturdy mental view Cause they will test your limits Cause they will nuture you
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC
How to live life
Quiet tears are shed noiselessly for a pain that no one knows- that no one can know- that few will understand. Who among them could bear my burden with sincerity, with true compassion, with sisterhood in suffering? I tell no one, else my resolve be tested; I stuff it down, lest my fears erupt into a river's coursing madness; I keep it hidden, else my heart would break and never repair itself. I know what I PROMISED, I know what I DECIDED; I made my choice, and I accepted the consequences. I knew my fate, what I'd given up- but did I really know what I would lose? what I would long and ache for? what companionship I would never achieve? The envy I would feel for others fates, for the things they possessed that money can't buy? I have lost so much on my way through life, I've shared burdens, made mistakes, experienced love of astounding beauty; So, why now is my heart breaking over a fate I believed in long ago? Why do the stirrings of gentle matriarchy bring a new meaning to time? And why NOW does time seem to click, and tick, and count the seconds away? Though I struggle to make sense of these phantom pains, I will not destroy the world I created, nor the happiness of others; I am a spectator to my own debacle, the appearing betrayal of my own mortality, A willing slave to my uncompromising morality and compassion, bound by my pledge of service to my blood. 'I am your Guardian Angel', I had said- They are the new Gods of your life, sworn to nuture and groom you for the heoric fate that awaits; I will not be a Harbinger of Doom set on wreaking destruction where none is needed; I made my decision- and I shall not permit it to be unmade, even by my selfish hands. To the winds I cast my troubles; to the skies I throw my voice, heedless of what god would dare answer; to my heart, I beg silence- Be still. I have made our choice.
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
The Fate I Chose Myself
Quiet tears are shed noiselessly for a pain that no one knows- that no one can know- that few will understand. Who among them could bear my burden with sincerity, with true compassion, with sisterhood in suffering? I tell no one, else my resolve be tested; I stuff it down, lest my fears erupt into a river's coursing madness; I keep it hidden, else my heart would break and never repair itself. I know what I PROMISED, I know what I DECIDED; I made my choice, and I accepted the consequences. I knew my fate, what I'd given up- but did I really know what I would lose? what I would long and ache for? what companionship I would never achieve? The envy I would feel for others fates, for the things they possessed that money can't buy? I have lost so much on my way through life, I've shared burdens, made mistakes, experienced love of astounding beauty; So, why now is my heart breaking over a fate I believed in long ago? Why do the stirrings of gentle matriarchy bring a new meaning to time? And why NOW does time seem to click, and tick, and count the seconds away? Though I struggle to make sense of these phantom pains, I will not destroy the world I created, nor the happiness of others; I am a spectator to my own debacle, the appearing betrayal of my own mortality, A willing slave to my uncompromising morality and compassion, bound by my pledge of service to my blood. 'I am your Guardian Angel', I had said- They are the new Gods of your life, sworn to nuture and groom you for the heoric fate that awaits; I will not be a Harbinger of Doom set on wreaking destruction where none is needed; I made my decision- and I shall not permit it to be unmade, even by my selfish hands. To the winds I cast my troubles; to the skies I throw my voice, heedless of what god would dare answer; to my heart, I beg silence- Be still. I have made our choice.
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57
this idea is encrypted if these words were pieces of a jigsaw where will i put "anxiety"", happiness" to decipher . my tender scream slicing the air , signals the end of agony, cutting of the cord is a punctuation. what is left you can complete' nurturing is a jigsaw piece that fits nuture. cherish the rapture , for we can only live but once.
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Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
i am a bundle of joy
Sometimes i remember The nights of alone Not laying in bed just by myself But truly, completely, alone. Its dark outside But that doesnt compare To how dark it is inside This house of flesh. Skin, bones, muscle I learn every day about them, How they move, how they express But not how they love. Isnt it crazy We use these parts to love But these parts alone arent anything Other than bodies just touching bodies. What about thoughts? Are thoughts love? A human brain has thoughts From the time its born to death. When do we formulate thoughts of love. To our mom when she nurses? Or our dad when he checks for monsters? Dolls, toys, trucks, when is there love? But the soul is different. There is no soul scan Or soul therapy. It just, is. Its alive without being woken up Its there when everything is broken But what is it filled with? Spirit, passion, love. It is not in our bodies to love It is not in our brains to love It is in our soul Our third part. Maybe that is whats missing. I forgot to feed you. Youre withering away Like anything would. A body without food is broken A brain without books is empty And a soul without nuture, What happens then? Broken. Empty. Death. A soul without nurture is dead. Nothing happens without a soul. No life, no love, no awakening. Was my soul here from the beginning? Is there a start and end to you? There is to my body and my brain But what about you?
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Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:25 PM UTC
Soul Food