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"obediently" poems
Awakening will find me through the daily mundane faith's step in front of tiny step for the sake of Christ's great name Even David the brave did not set out with a lofty ambition to see the giant slain but walked forth instead with a servant's heart obediently for his father, carrying cheese and grain and as he went in faithfulness about this simple errand God raised him up with sling and stone to champion His fame
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Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
Daily Mundane
Someday I'll hold you like you me charms Look you straight and deep in your eyes And let you know how much I lust for you I'll pull your soft body with me masculine arms Dead close to mine so that you realize How glamorously my  **** tightens for you Someday I'll touch your neck with my teeth I'll graze it so softly that you won't quit And then pour magical whispers into your ears The much I've dammed up all these years I'll place my hard palms beneath your shirt To softly hard caress your skin so that it'll sweetly hurt Then I'll place my head onto yours and sigh Because by this point I'll already be high Someday I'll be this close and I won't miss I'll peck your forehead but your lips kiss You'll shut your eyes and savor my taste I'll take it one step at a time with no haste I'll patiently unbutton your outfit You won't stop me for you'll feel me heat Someday I'll **** at your beautiful ******* Draped like two cute oranges on your chest You'll mourn like you're grieved at the pleasure You'll beg me to quickly find my way inside But I'll try and keep my control and decide when to partake of your juicy treasure Someday I'll explore further down your thighs Me whom you much loathe and despise You'll arch like a bow at every touch and laugh like a clown Yet mourn as I navigate every street of tuna town You'll beg me to pass through the tunnel of love And just then I'll swiftly embed myself into nature's glove I'll place myself above you,I'll be a long awaited burden You'll hold my posterior as I plough through your garden Since you say there's no love around here Further apart your thighs will obediently split While we make it Someday we'll walk a thousand miles with no rest We'll surf the ****** waves till we hit the viperous crest
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
WE'LL MAKE LOVE SOMEDAY
Someday I'll hold you like you me charms Look you straight and deep in your eyes And let you know how much I lust for you I'll pull your soft body with me masculine arms Dead close to mine so that you realize How glamorously my  **** tightens for you Someday I'll touch your neck with my teeth I'll graze it so softly that you won't quit And then pour magical whispers into your ears The much I've dammed up all these years I'll place my hard palms beneath your shirt To softly hard caress your skin so that it'll sweetly hurt Then I'll place my head onto yours and sigh Because by this point I'll already be high Someday I'll be this close and I won't miss I'll peck your forehead but your lips kiss You'll shut your eyes and savor my taste I'll take it one step at a time with no haste I'll patiently unbutton your outfit You won't stop me for you'll feel me heat Someday I'll **** at your beautiful ******* Draped like two cute oranges on your chest You'll mourn like you're grieved at the pleasure You'll beg me to quickly find my way inside But I'll try and keep my control and decide when to partake of your juicy treasure Someday I'll explore further down your thighs Me whom you much loathe and despise You'll arch like a bow at every touch and laugh like a clown Yet mourn as I navigate every street of tuna town You'll beg me to pass through the tunnel of love And just then I'll swiftly embed myself into nature's glove I'll place myself above you,I'll be a long awaited burden You'll hold my posterior as I plough through your garden Since you say there's no love around here Further apart your thighs will obediently split While we make it Someday we'll walk a thousand miles with no rest We'll surf the ****** waves till we hit the viperous crest
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39
This level reach of blue is not my sea; Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun, Whose quiet ripples meet obediently A marked and measured line, one after one. This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm. I have a need of wilder, crueler waves; They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm. So let a love beat over me again, Loosing its million desperate breakers wide; Sudden and terrible to rise and wane; Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide That casts upon the heart, as it recedes, Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds.
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19.7k
Fair Weather
i am your pet, cherished, you bet from the very first moment, we met you are my master, tried and true my job in life is to always, please you i wander aimlessly alone when you're gone, so long, on your own forgive me, if i chew your shoe i was nervous and i missed you if i snack some food from the trash it smelled so good, how could i pass bark, bark, bark, i cry out alarm the mailman has come here to harm when you get home, i'm so happy wagging my tail with my whole body when we go for a walk together if a cat threatens, away i chase her don't be upset with me, please sir i promise to protect you from all danger i greet other dogs, on our way smelling their butts to just say, hey i lift my leg marking my place to find my way back, just in case i'm not too crazy about the rain but i'll keep you company and not complain laying belly up is a sign scratch me, rub me and i'll be fine if I lick my area, because i can please don't be jealous of me, man sleeping here, my chin on your foot obediently, my faith in you, i put though my purpose, i may reach in a flash compared to your life, my longevity won't last my loyalty to you, will never sever unconditionally, i love you, forever
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Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
a dog's promise
dedicated with hope to all of us Imagine a Human Family Picnic where everyone shows - from every sect and hue and nation - gathered at a common table. The Almighty swoops down to speak the  blessing: known to all from Torah, Q'uran and Gospels and countless other books of wisdom - author of our souls' aspirations. After supper the Holy One would call us to the sacrificial pyre.       *“Brothers, sisters and cousins,         images of your creator,         every unholy war         desecrates the face of God         and there is no other kind.         Cast your pride into the flames         and live together in peace!”* Obediently, we'd toss our pride into the fire, recoiling from its smoldering stench. The Lion would lie down to preen the Lamb's fleece and Universal Love, released from her chains, would walk  free in every land. August, 2006
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Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Human Family Picnic
Changing faces for nameless places Nameless people struggling for existence in a nameless time Worship the incoherent ramblings Of countless babbling nameless fools Bread and water lead the lambs to slaughter Prejudice injustice demanding obedience Nameless zombies Becoming the robotic puppet Of the puppeteers desires With pre-programmed responses Feelings not your own Desensitized children Of a race of morbid loving junkies We render them fearless, then cry At the mass of chaos they invoke upon us Lost leading the lost Devouring the beauty in their paths The scourge of the free man Who lives under the delusion of his freedom Prisoners all While the power sits upon a high throne laughing Unbelieving how simply they all fell And obediently they continue to provide The avenues of deception for his rich existence © Crystal Erickson   11/24/2007
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Nameless
Johnny can't join his daddy has no car Michael can't join they don't like his shoes Ahmed can't join he has a funny name Bobby can't join supports the wrong team "What's going on?" bellows the red-faced teacher "You can't treat each other like this! "Have you ever been excluded? "Yes? "And how "did it make you feel?" He ushers them in, muttering though somewhat gratified by the shame in their eyes Then herds them through to assembly where the guest of honour is the minister who proceeds to explain to the obediently seated rows that if they don't see things his way they will be eternally, terrifyingly and agonisingly excluded from the great big party in the sky And the teacher hangs his head in baffled complicity, defeated.
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Exclusive
Over this temple he reigns as King I drop to my knees and kiss his crown ******* obediently with every call of my name Worthy of worship so profound
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
my highness
You talk about eggshells I hear the crunch as I get closer to you Thought it was glass breaking but it was too soft beneath my shoe I can't stay out of your perimeter forever When the diameter grows bigger and bigger Pushing me farther away I can still see soft silhouette Your skin is so frail Pale white made of the eggshells at your feet You reach down time and again When you're pierced by words Cutting off oxygen Penetrated by the carbon dioxide truth You're not young anymore Age is ageless numerals You're not old How many birds flew away from this pile of youth? Each one once packaged like a gift Leaving behind stacks of birth to sift through You gathered them Scattered them evenly around you Put your appearance and self worth into them and Waited for the crushing blow Marching toward you from all sides Your insecurities will swallow you and The stomping will leave you angry and hollow We are all hippy chickens Making wishbones out of peace signs Hoping for unity Not realizing it's meant to be broken A lopsided libra unbalanced The powers that be Expect you to follow obediently Stand in line You can't take just give 'Short people ain't got no reason to live' Newman must have know How difficult it is to create new men One by one we attempt To tip the scale in our favor But the bigger Man Can push it down with a finger Like a toppling Pisa tower A slow motion fall to the ground A single direction agenda The momentum gained With each inch leaning So stop clowning around Sweep up your eggshells and Go buy a dozen more grade A's and Break them all at once We don't have much time
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
-Eggshells (the chicken or the egg?)-
You talk about eggshells I hear the crunch as I get closer to you Thought it was glass breaking but it was too soft beneath my shoe I can't stay out of your perimeter forever When the diameter grows bigger and bigger Pushing me farther away I can still see soft silhouette Your skin is so frail Pale white made of the eggshells at your feet You reach down time and again When you're pierced by words Cutting off oxygen Penetrated by the carbon dioxide truth You're not young anymore Age is ageless numerals You're not old How many birds flew away from this pile of youth? Each one once packaged like a gift Leaving behind stacks of birth to sift through You gathered them Scattered them evenly around you Put your appearance and self worth into them and Waited for the crushing blow Marching toward you from all sides Your insecurities will swallow you and The stomping will leave you angry and hollow We are all hippy chickens Making wishbones out of peace signs Hoping for unity Not realizing it's meant to be broken A lopsided libra unbalanced The powers that be Expect you to follow obediently Stand in line You can't take just give 'Short people ain't got no reason to live' Newman must have know How difficult it is to create new men One by one we attempt To tip the scale in our favor But the bigger Man Can push it down with a finger Like a toppling Pisa tower A slow motion fall to the ground A single direction agenda The momentum gained With each inch leaning So stop clowning around Sweep up your eggshells and Go buy a dozen more grade A's and Break them all at once We don't have much time
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52
Hands clawing outward from a mass grave Mouth gasping for air, Lungs filled with invisible smog Mind too indoctrinated to care Pressed in against the walking dead Face to face, toe to toe – Clammy fingers entwining by seeing Unseeing eyes staring into a blank void you well know Drifting with the metal cage Jerking back, coasting sideways, never flinch Some escape, more cram in – Nearing hellish Purgatory inch by inch A screeching halt, your turn to flee – Into the glass maze obediently file Skinner's rats – jolted by punishment Yet tomorrow you’ll do it again – another card on the pile.
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 5:59 AM UTC
Art on the Underground
Colossal grey feet stride forth, Northbound, Conquering the jungle’s labyrinth, Leading her herd. A young boy, whose name means Enlightenment, Sits in awe, quiet and close, Watching her. Each step, gracefully slow But deliberate. She has much to teach me, Ahren wonders, *This holy beast, an animalistic embodiment of The perfect disciple and My own Spirit guide.* He walks in silence, hidden in the endless green. Two dozen female elephants follow Their master obediently And loyally. Hearing her call, they destroy any and all Which stands in their way, trusting the leadership Of the matriarch. She knows the way, has travelled this path Many times before, recalling past dangers, never Treading twice. An unexplainable knowing is Felt by all her kind. Tiny eyes fill with wisdom of all she has seen, While enormous ears listen intently, Unselfish and kind, Hearing always the messages Of their family. Ahren observes this animal on his path towards Understanding. She is gentle, yet fears nothing, save The pain of others. *I must learn to see through the eyes of Spirit, And listen more than I speak, moving carefully Down the path. In this life it is my task to warn others of dangers encountered, To overcome any obstacles received on my Human journey, Heeding my master’s call.* He watches as the herd reaches a clearing. They form a circle, surrounding the bones of A fallen family member. The vibratory funeral call sounds faintly. Using her trunk, the matriarch pats the carcass, Quietly saying goodbye. Ahren cries with the elephants, feeling the loss As if it was his own.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
Spirit Guide
Colossal grey feet stride forth, Northbound, Conquering the jungle’s labyrinth, Leading her herd. A young boy, whose name means Enlightenment, Sits in awe, quiet and close, Watching her. Each step, gracefully slow But deliberate. She has much to teach me, Ahren wonders, *This holy beast, an animalistic embodiment of The perfect disciple and My own Spirit guide.* He walks in silence, hidden in the endless green. Two dozen female elephants follow Their master obediently And loyally. Hearing her call, they destroy any and all Which stands in their way, trusting the leadership Of the matriarch. She knows the way, has travelled this path Many times before, recalling past dangers, never Treading twice. An unexplainable knowing is Felt by all her kind. Tiny eyes fill with wisdom of all she has seen, While enormous ears listen intently, Unselfish and kind, Hearing always the messages Of their family. Ahren observes this animal on his path towards Understanding. She is gentle, yet fears nothing, save The pain of others. *I must learn to see through the eyes of Spirit, And listen more than I speak, moving carefully Down the path. In this life it is my task to warn others of dangers encountered, To overcome any obstacles received on my Human journey, Heeding my master’s call.* He watches as the herd reaches a clearing. They form a circle, surrounding the bones of A fallen family member. The vibratory funeral call sounds faintly. Using her trunk, the matriarch pats the carcass, Quietly saying goodbye. Ahren cries with the elephants, feeling the loss As if it was his own.
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45
One lone bluebird begins its flight. One lone bluebird gone to great heights. Beautiful wings, strong and hollow All the other bluebirds obediently follow Surrounded by others high in the sky, One lone bluebird destined to fly. High above the trees, wings spread to soar, One lone bluebird in search of something more. And with bluebird friends all around, One lone bluebird feeling quite down. Suddenly, the bluebird is all alone. Desperately trying to make it back home. Wings withdrawn and perched on a tree, Covered in darkness, difficult to see. In the silence, the bluebird finds bliss. In the silence, inner thoughts persist. One lone bluebird missing its friends. One lone bluebird fearful of the end. Eerily quiet in utter solitude, One lone bluebird has a change in mood. An important lesson was learned that day, One lone bluebird had lost its way. Though it may be easier to hide, Life is better with other birds by its side. One lone bluebird destined to fly, Surrounded by others high in the sky.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
One Lone Bluebird
Yesterday I was a school going kid Always Hungry for knowledge Always Thirsty for lessons of life Obediently sitting in a large noisy class Listening and recording every words preached Hoping they were stored forever... Or atleast before the exam day was over Today I still go to school Twice a week with a bunch of happy people We have fun learning! embarassing ourselves mostly In the most intellectual way!! laughing at ourselves for being silly Sometimes unsure whether we are hungry or thirsty But knowledge is like the sea... Endless and wide. Rather ... We are desperate to digest it all The ZPD, Scaffolding, Sociocultural and Constructivism? Hey hey whose theory? And Skinner, Pavlov, Vygotsky and Chomsky Hope they are here to tell us a story. To go or to let go Hard .. dont you know? Decided to go with the flow... Determined that one day We will stand tall On that humble stage Wearing that long pretty robe ... in our hands a scroll... There's nothing like having a PHD With your sweat and tears... and a whole lot of laughters too.... The feelings? Of course... unexplainable The experience? PRICELESS!!!
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Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
PHD PARANOIA
Her daughter's spare key, slipped in the lock, to open A lifeless house The granddaughter follows "Take the shoes, they're of little value." Obediently, timidly, she goes to the bedroom closet. She tries on a pair of beige sandals; understated, good quality, and so comfortable. These are followed by two more pairs, which disappoint in comparison. Then, Oh, She sees the slippers. So familiar, knit together. And the granddaughter unravels. She slips them on. Slips into oblivion. Do you need a hug? Singsong from the office. They meet in the hallway. And slip into each other's arms. It is easy to wear her literal shoes But the slippers feel empty on her feet.
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
Her Knit Slippers
a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding snakeskin cells as lead from no. 2 pencil am **** and blood, skin and hairless, all-to-come-to-go, return retuned, at their own chosen speed, gen of regeneration of disrupted oils and heavenly blessings, morning cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently, to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon’s decisions that govern the lunatic cycle you may kiss me with all your heart unto a robust welcoming, scorn with spittle and deem unfit, I know the difference and it is inconsequential see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty, as a new or a two day old leaking birthday balloon, or a haiku that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of your nippled forefinger, but my powers are unlisted, therefore unlimited for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensating, the temperature of your breath, the many odors of you as inputs that bear newborn children notions in my chested gas chambers, the belligerent bellum bellies of my brain my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide, but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour if you are awake between midnight and dawn when from wells the visions, the fluids - the words are drawn they, the residuals of a man’s *********** with other humans, kin akin, and the thriving discourse between l, man and parental gods of invisible powers, that offers insanity as a viable solution, to cracking the codex human DNA in the vial labelled Medusa Who else?
0
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
the twelth poem: neither cyber or cypher
a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding snakeskin cells as lead from no. 2 pencil am **** and blood, skin and hairless, all-to-come-to-go, return retuned, at their own chosen speed, gen of regeneration of disrupted oils and heavenly blessings, morning cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently, to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon’s decisions that govern the lunatic cycle you may kiss me with all your heart unto a robust welcoming, scorn with spittle and deem unfit, I know the difference and it is inconsequential see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty, as a new or a two day old leaking birthday balloon, or a haiku that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of your nippled forefinger, but my powers are unlisted, therefore unlimited for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensating, the temperature of your breath, the many odors of you as inputs that bear newborn children notions in my chested gas chambers, the belligerent bellum bellies of my brain my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide, but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour if you are awake between midnight and dawn when from wells the visions, the fluids - the words are drawn they, the residuals of a man’s *********** with other humans, kin akin, and the thriving discourse between l, man and parental gods of invisible powers, that offers insanity as a viable solution, to cracking the codex human DNA in the vial labelled Medusa Who else?
Continue reading...
35
i never really knew nonchalance until approximately twenty minutes into ever having had the pleasure of your existence alongside mine. "i'll have to teach you how to surf" you mentioned casually, sounding perfectly genuine- which alone was enough to startle me knowing you were leaving the country before the water would ever be warm enough the far rockaways? my mind's eye gave a grimace and half a laugh at the thought- but my affections were melting through your fingers. you stopped us abruptly on the sidewalk, halted all conversation and crept up (as if you had a hundred times) on to some random brooklyn woman's stoop and ripped a few leaves off of one of her plants. i stood idle, feeling warmer suddenly, trying to disguise any semi-shocked expression i may  or may not have emoted.. and watched as you returned with the most unmistakable grin and two sleepy little leaves in your palm. without hesitation you began chewing on one, while handing me mine and i listened as you detailed the experience with an ecstatic moan of pleasure. "mint?" i knew it was a mint leaf, obviously, somehow but still asked anyway i don't remember if you confirmed, feeling so bewildered by the strange glowing glory of you but i ate it obediently, as if it were naturally in my personality to never question eating an unfamiliar plant from the unfamiliar hand of a man whom i was most unfamiliarly falling in love with.
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May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
first date with a delinquent
A stone monolith sits in the middle of a frozen field. It has seen many a eon, many civilizations fall and rise, many many years in it's cold position. Its face once that of a mighty god or a worshiped king, is all that remains. It's chiseled grimace forever juxtaposed on its stony countenance. Throughout its still existence, this grimace never disappears. All times will this grimace will endure. The snow falls down over its impenetrable skull. It bears no notice, only surreal patience, as it slowly awaits oblivion. Oblivion! All its thoughtless mind are set on it, forever counting the days it does not know with numbers it does not know. There is no comfort here. All is frozen, all is cold. It had never chosen to lay here, yet lay here it must. Eternally till it is dust, it is counting with numbers it does not know the days it does not know. It reminiscences on past events it witnessed, but does not recall. The wars, the disasters and the plagues.... It has bared through all with the same grimace as the creatures subjected to the horrors kneeled before it in reverence, offering it sacrifices and soul. It towered above these pitiful creatures, it watched with eyes that do not see as they trembled in its wake, following orders it did not speak. Ignoring prayers it did not hear. So obediently did these creatures obey what it did not say! Dutifully did they destroy their own and all around them. Faithfully did they create this ****** field of barren nothingness, thee circumspect watchers of the monolith's will. An empty scourge to what once was. Beautiful landscapes of yesteryear now turned from sprawling green to turn into frozen ash, forever recounting the final moments of misery on this lifeless realm, a misery that surrounded the monolith in its final days. Consistently reflecting off of its stone grimace before it all faded away with the last life. As the eternal years past and the amaranthine smog lies overhead, the monolith sits in the middle of a frozen field. There is no comfort here. The snow has turned to thermonuclear ash years ago. All is frozen, all is cold. It had never chosen to lay here, yet lay here it must. Quietly it does. Frozen in place, in a frozen field where nothing grows. The strong face of monolith is all that remains. The face surveys the empty landscape before it forevermore.
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Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 1:20 AM UTC
Laments of a Stone Monolith
A stone monolith sits in the middle of a frozen field. It has seen many a eon, many civilizations fall and rise, many many years in it's cold position. Its face once that of a mighty god or a worshiped king, is all that remains. It's chiseled grimace forever juxtaposed on its stony countenance. Throughout its still existence, this grimace never disappears. All times will this grimace will endure. The snow falls down over its impenetrable skull. It bears no notice, only surreal patience, as it slowly awaits oblivion. Oblivion! All its thoughtless mind are set on it, forever counting the days it does not know with numbers it does not know. There is no comfort here. All is frozen, all is cold. It had never chosen to lay here, yet lay here it must. Eternally till it is dust, it is counting with numbers it does not know the days it does not know. It reminiscences on past events it witnessed, but does not recall. The wars, the disasters and the plagues.... It has bared through all with the same grimace as the creatures subjected to the horrors kneeled before it in reverence, offering it sacrifices and soul. It towered above these pitiful creatures, it watched with eyes that do not see as they trembled in its wake, following orders it did not speak. Ignoring prayers it did not hear. So obediently did these creatures obey what it did not say! Dutifully did they destroy their own and all around them. Faithfully did they create this ****** field of barren nothingness, thee circumspect watchers of the monolith's will. An empty scourge to what once was. Beautiful landscapes of yesteryear now turned from sprawling green to turn into frozen ash, forever recounting the final moments of misery on this lifeless realm, a misery that surrounded the monolith in its final days. Consistently reflecting off of its stone grimace before it all faded away with the last life. As the eternal years past and the amaranthine smog lies overhead, the monolith sits in the middle of a frozen field. There is no comfort here. The snow has turned to thermonuclear ash years ago. All is frozen, all is cold. It had never chosen to lay here, yet lay here it must. Quietly it does. Frozen in place, in a frozen field where nothing grows. The strong face of monolith is all that remains. The face surveys the empty landscape before it forevermore.
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6
*"More squirrels" She exclaims And I wonder what In the world Could it be This particular time!?* It usually starts like this... Every once in a while I find her Lost In her own thoughts Gazing At nothing in particular But everything At once. At times Like these She is a genius Gone crazy. I catch a glimpse Of those star-bound eyes And try To guess The stride Of her imagination Without Much luck. Could she be thinking about… A universe made entirely out of glass? Why humans don’t have a tail Anymore? Reasons behind love at first sight? Or what to name the 3rd butterfly She saw today? In her picture perfect Stillness I can viscerally sense A divine flow Of thoughts And it evokes in me The wonder That one experiences While watching A calm river flow Knowing Turbulent currents Are ever present Just hidden Deep inside. If I Shake her vigorously I know for sure At least 23 ideas And 47 musings Will fall around And we will laugh hilariously. But I dare not For the fear Of my life. She is an artist Painting With her imagination And you Don't disturb artists Do you? Once she’s back To the material realm She comments Randomly About how we need More squirrels In the world. I almost always Immediately concur. Then slowly ask “why?”. She gives me One of those looks. Like the ones You give your dog When it’s looking At you eating food And you’re deciding If you should Give it a small bit Or not. If I am persistent enough She gathers All her thoughts And illustrates With one of the most Amazing stories The important role Of squirrels To save our Doomed world. After listening To her Seemingly logical And Completely weird Stories I nod obediently Then carefully Check If her coffee Has something mixed in it. The gesture Makes her Burst out in laughter Every single time. And we repeat this Day after day Night after night. I'm so used to it That now Even if I hear "Cement flowers" "popcorn candies" Or "balloon bullets" I am mentally prepared To understand The story Behind all of it. That’s how it is. She keeps daydreaming About stuff And I keep dreaming about her.
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
Once
*"More squirrels" She exclaims And I wonder what In the world Could it be This particular time!?* It usually starts like this... Every once in a while I find her Lost In her own thoughts Gazing At nothing in particular But everything At once. At times Like these She is a genius Gone crazy. I catch a glimpse Of those star-bound eyes And try To guess The stride Of her imagination Without Much luck. Could she be thinking about… A universe made entirely out of glass? Why humans don’t have a tail Anymore? Reasons behind love at first sight? Or what to name the 3rd butterfly She saw today? In her picture perfect Stillness I can viscerally sense A divine flow Of thoughts And it evokes in me The wonder That one experiences While watching A calm river flow Knowing Turbulent currents Are ever present Just hidden Deep inside. If I Shake her vigorously I know for sure At least 23 ideas And 47 musings Will fall around And we will laugh hilariously. But I dare not For the fear Of my life. She is an artist Painting With her imagination And you Don't disturb artists Do you? Once she’s back To the material realm She comments Randomly About how we need More squirrels In the world. I almost always Immediately concur. Then slowly ask “why?”. She gives me One of those looks. Like the ones You give your dog When it’s looking At you eating food And you’re deciding If you should Give it a small bit Or not. If I am persistent enough She gathers All her thoughts And illustrates With one of the most Amazing stories The important role Of squirrels To save our Doomed world. After listening To her Seemingly logical And Completely weird Stories I nod obediently Then carefully Check If her coffee Has something mixed in it. The gesture Makes her Burst out in laughter Every single time. And we repeat this Day after day Night after night. I'm so used to it That now Even if I hear "Cement flowers" "popcorn candies" Or "balloon bullets" I am mentally prepared To understand The story Behind all of it. That’s how it is. She keeps daydreaming About stuff And I keep dreaming about her.
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132
From 20,000 feet, the lines are straight. the world is in neat patterns with the white headlights heading in one direction and the red tail lights, obediently traveling the other dozens of creeks converge and streams merge into the river whose meandering still makes sense and the interstate crosses via white bridges in parallel lines at a point most efficient to their final destination From here, cities make sense too I can spot a school by the football stadium and the streets laid out in a grid with an occasional flourish of gated suburbs the earth is a patchwork a quilt of work and technology where dirt road meets gravel meets asphalt meets concrete all at ninety degree angles mathmeticians must have had this vantage point geometry was made for this relationships weren't relationships are messy and this is orderly I think I like to fly to make the world feel orderly and organized for just a while till I come down and navigate the airport heading for home and living with people
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
organized chaos
They preach about pride “Pride is a sin!” People nod obediently “Two men kissing is a sin!” A few more obedient nods WHAT ARE WE? Slaves? Do we obey all the things That a silly old book says To get to a place most probably Will never see Since they’ve committed just one ONE SIN? Two men kissing Sounds harmless as a butterfly Two girls kissing Sweet as sugar It’s fine to be yourself Boy, girl, both or none It’s accepted in the animal kingdom Why not the human one? Are you scared of a book? A book that controls how you act How you talk, speak, pray? Have pride everyone! Have pride in yourself! Who you are! Who you want to be! BECAUSE SOMEONE SOMEONE IN THIS BEAUTIFUL GREEN/BLUE PLANET WILL LOVE YOU FOR IT!
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
Have Pride
I Aspiring to reach the solar rabbit hole eclipse --climbing up the well, the photon test tube sodden and crusted on the outside by angsty adults snorting obsession through The Manhattan Project straw. The pirate boy wanted to be named Skip--so determined Alice named him, Skippy, conqueror of blueberry mucus --he reminded her of sidewalks she found far in the misty woods --no one walked the unexpected like him. Each placement of a pore: a bat cave a depressed skull a hollow exploit a lame *** joke a mildew plop Almost certainly this cadaver matryoshka doll would be human by the time the two runaways were born again Hallelujah! The dish breaker is crowning again back to the galleons, rotting awkward candles. "Leave what is human in inhumane places." the well speaks. Skippy tears the corners of his lips to his ears. Alice turns her temple to the sharpest part of the monumental test tube and cracks her childhood back to the bottom --back to Euphoria. light poles open up faces and throw their lights to the ground. Both of the thrift store lovers continue to climb--ripping off purchases to the beggar's tin cup. II Severed hearts beat without metaphor as the empty vessels that hold them. Spines sing of freedom like centipedes facing fan blades. Pirate boys mock the smoker's language of mutiny. Devalued skin, dirty armor casted, lowered, teased, by the cadence of tumbling blood. Marking territories other brother's can smell Obediently, we see what gods are doing to them. They're paying for drawing the different suits of God on the cave wall. Hit jobs--vacuum spoils, sucker punch postage stamps --revenge from a peaceful creator forcing the two to climb/climb/climb back to a speck where dandelions grow from the revolution fetus and graphite, & tongues, & lips, & nerves, & veins & wolf spiders pour down/red matter clusterfucks.
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Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Cigarettes & carrots (part one)
I Aspiring to reach the solar rabbit hole eclipse --climbing up the well, the photon test tube sodden and crusted on the outside by angsty adults snorting obsession through The Manhattan Project straw. The pirate boy wanted to be named Skip--so determined Alice named him, Skippy, conqueror of blueberry mucus --he reminded her of sidewalks she found far in the misty woods --no one walked the unexpected like him. Each placement of a pore: a bat cave a depressed skull a hollow exploit a lame *** joke a mildew plop Almost certainly this cadaver matryoshka doll would be human by the time the two runaways were born again Hallelujah! The dish breaker is crowning again back to the galleons, rotting awkward candles. "Leave what is human in inhumane places." the well speaks. Skippy tears the corners of his lips to his ears. Alice turns her temple to the sharpest part of the monumental test tube and cracks her childhood back to the bottom --back to Euphoria. light poles open up faces and throw their lights to the ground. Both of the thrift store lovers continue to climb--ripping off purchases to the beggar's tin cup. II Severed hearts beat without metaphor as the empty vessels that hold them. Spines sing of freedom like centipedes facing fan blades. Pirate boys mock the smoker's language of mutiny. Devalued skin, dirty armor casted, lowered, teased, by the cadence of tumbling blood. Marking territories other brother's can smell Obediently, we see what gods are doing to them. They're paying for drawing the different suits of God on the cave wall. Hit jobs--vacuum spoils, sucker punch postage stamps --revenge from a peaceful creator forcing the two to climb/climb/climb back to a speck where dandelions grow from the revolution fetus and graphite, & tongues, & lips, & nerves, & veins & wolf spiders pour down/red matter clusterfucks.
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(( Joshua walks into the small diner by himself & stands obediently next to the "WAIT TO BE SEATED" sign.  His eyes are casting shadows down his cheeks that blend into the subtle stubble that his long day created.  Eventually a waitress comes over to him & he holds up one finger.  They walk like a somber funeral procession to his booth, his grave, & he descends into it like a rigid corpse.  He comes here because it is one of the few places left in the city to smoke, & he gets right down to business.  The flick of his lighter is muted by the bickering coming from the booth behind him. )) WOMAN: so do you still love me? MAN: yes, but not really. WOMAN: what does that mean? MAN: well, it means i do, but not as much as i used to. WOMAN: when did this happen? MAN: yesterday...last week... WOMAN: when, specifically?  you still say "love" a lot. MAN: i can't say, really.  it's like waking up from a dream, covered in sweat and unfamiliar with your surroundings. WOMAN: why are you sweating? MAN: because of the dream. WOMAN: no, your face right now.  you look like you went swimming. MAN: i know.  could you hand me a napkin? WOMAN: you still haven't answered my question. MAN: another napkin. WOMAN: you probably need a sponge. MAN: i didn't see it on the menu... WOMAN: so why didn't you tell me? MAN: i didn't want to break your heart. WOMAN: so you decided to stretch it out until it cracked under the pressure? MAN: is it hot in here? WOMAN: that's not your decision to make.  it is MY heart. MAN: well, you have to admit i had it on loan for a while... WOMAN: WELL YOU HAVEN'T BEEN MAKING PAYMENTS! (( A loud thud.  Joshua looks up from the smoky haze to find a coughing waitress. )) WAITRESS: to drink? JOSH: an ashtray. WAITRESS: what? JOSH: there's no ashtray here. WAITRESS: sure.  and what to drink? JOSH: coffee, black. WAITRESS: and what to eat? JOSH: i could use a bit more time. WAITRESS: we all could. (( The waitress disappears. )) MAN: look, i never said i was right. WOMAN: neither did i. MAN: at least i am telling you now. WOMAN: now is later than it should have been. MAN: i said i was sorry. WOMAN: no, you didn't. MAN: well, i meant to. (( A long period of silence & clinking plates. )) MAN: i should probably go. WOMAN: i am pretty sure you left a long time ago. MAN:  i'm sorry. WOMAN: is there another? MAN: another what? WOMAN: if you don't love me, then your love must be somewhere else.  you have to love something. MAN: no, there's not.  i've never been so alone. WOMAN: that sounds terrible. MAN: you will know the feeling soon. WOMAN: jesus, the man behind us is smoking like a chimney... (( Joshua puts his cigarette out.  The waitress appears amidst the smoke again. )) WAITRESS: have you decided? JOSH: i don't think anyone has.
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Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 11:50 AM UTC
eavesdropping. . .
(( Joshua walks into the small diner by himself & stands obediently next to the "WAIT TO BE SEATED" sign.  His eyes are casting shadows down his cheeks that blend into the subtle stubble that his long day created.  Eventually a waitress comes over to him & he holds up one finger.  They walk like a somber funeral procession to his booth, his grave, & he descends into it like a rigid corpse.  He comes here because it is one of the few places left in the city to smoke, & he gets right down to business.  The flick of his lighter is muted by the bickering coming from the booth behind him. )) WOMAN: so do you still love me? MAN: yes, but not really. WOMAN: what does that mean? MAN: well, it means i do, but not as much as i used to. WOMAN: when did this happen? MAN: yesterday...last week... WOMAN: when, specifically?  you still say "love" a lot. MAN: i can't say, really.  it's like waking up from a dream, covered in sweat and unfamiliar with your surroundings. WOMAN: why are you sweating? MAN: because of the dream. WOMAN: no, your face right now.  you look like you went swimming. MAN: i know.  could you hand me a napkin? WOMAN: you still haven't answered my question. MAN: another napkin. WOMAN: you probably need a sponge. MAN: i didn't see it on the menu... WOMAN: so why didn't you tell me? MAN: i didn't want to break your heart. WOMAN: so you decided to stretch it out until it cracked under the pressure? MAN: is it hot in here? WOMAN: that's not your decision to make.  it is MY heart. MAN: well, you have to admit i had it on loan for a while... WOMAN: WELL YOU HAVEN'T BEEN MAKING PAYMENTS! (( A loud thud.  Joshua looks up from the smoky haze to find a coughing waitress. )) WAITRESS: to drink? JOSH: an ashtray. WAITRESS: what? JOSH: there's no ashtray here. WAITRESS: sure.  and what to drink? JOSH: coffee, black. WAITRESS: and what to eat? JOSH: i could use a bit more time. WAITRESS: we all could. (( The waitress disappears. )) MAN: look, i never said i was right. WOMAN: neither did i. MAN: at least i am telling you now. WOMAN: now is later than it should have been. MAN: i said i was sorry. WOMAN: no, you didn't. MAN: well, i meant to. (( A long period of silence & clinking plates. )) MAN: i should probably go. WOMAN: i am pretty sure you left a long time ago. MAN:  i'm sorry. WOMAN: is there another? MAN: another what? WOMAN: if you don't love me, then your love must be somewhere else.  you have to love something. MAN: no, there's not.  i've never been so alone. WOMAN: that sounds terrible. MAN: you will know the feeling soon. WOMAN: jesus, the man behind us is smoking like a chimney... (( Joshua puts his cigarette out.  The waitress appears amidst the smoke again. )) WAITRESS: have you decided? JOSH: i don't think anyone has.
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