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"obstructing" poems
Have you ever wondered about your own mortality? What is ahead of you in the depths of Limbo while you continue to wait for a 'judgement day'? Humans are vulnerable to such thoughts obstructing their minds. Everything becomes clouded before it turns into a blur. Then you are no longer. Mortals spend their time going through a routine while we cast down to watch, much to our dismay. You never know what fate has in store for you, so don't complain. Do not fret nor worry. Time is all that matters. The twisted hands of two for to forever interlock in the dance of Death and Life. Never shall such beings intervene. Raven eyes set bright and clear as snow on nights of ice and dew. Ebony feathers drop with a platinum glow amongst their linings against the lighting of the moon. A ****** crystal and cerulean gem that shine so bright together even if it isn't natural for such shades. Balanced, are the world of the living and the world of spirits. Pureness and corruption are never to overcome one another. Balance is key and the key is a truth you still have yet to find.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
Judicium
sure, first we had the schism of the church & state... "oddly" enough... we now live in the 2nd tier of schism -   the segregation of                   state & media... no?     really?          we're not?!            i'm kind of enjoying this ongoing schismatics -     the segregation of church from state, at least left us with the Vatican (i.e. the church-state) - but this, current... segregation of state from the media?       **** me cram my testicles into a monkey-wrench and subsequently watch me laugh... and there i was thinking, that psychiatrists, were the new priests of the secular age... prescribing the alt. to the metaphor of cannibalism in the form of big pharmacological pills, to replace the wafer for bread, or the watered down wine / grape juice of the...     so how does that party trick goes? is that the wine turned into blood? symbolically:    turned water into wine:    flag-wise...   white,        cardinal...   and then burgundy of cardinal red teasing the bishopric coloring of purple? i'm not here to undermine the faith...    i'm here for the self-deprecating humo(u)r... you don't even require atheism to get a laugh out of the conundrum - you, simply need... the deviation from the catholic rites...            an apostasy - but sure as **** it's there... secularism has allowed journalism a monastic status... first came the schism of church from state -    which remained intact in the church-state of the Vatican... so... FAIL... secondly had to come the schism of the state from the media...                i'm watching a schism take place...   apparently...         the comparative concern of church's divorce from the state was easy, having imploded into the Vatican... but the divorce of the media from the state?         apparently... not so easy... the media is already locking-down on obstructing the schism - arguing from an entertainment perspective...        a century or so later, and still, the persistent, media symbolism -      of crafting caricatures of a state...    as the state embodied in nothing more than subordination to its will... media is the new church... and if the separation of the state from the church took so long... how much time, do you "think", it will it take, for the state to segregate itself, from the media baronage? i suspect - as much time as it took to segregate itself from the church's cardinal-lineage.
0
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
an apostasy humour
sure, first we had the schism of the church & state... "oddly" enough... we now live in the 2nd tier of schism -   the segregation of                   state & media... no?     really?          we're not?!            i'm kind of enjoying this ongoing schismatics -     the segregation of church from state, at least left us with the Vatican (i.e. the church-state) - but this, current... segregation of state from the media?       **** me cram my testicles into a monkey-wrench and subsequently watch me laugh... and there i was thinking, that psychiatrists, were the new priests of the secular age... prescribing the alt. to the metaphor of cannibalism in the form of big pharmacological pills, to replace the wafer for bread, or the watered down wine / grape juice of the...     so how does that party trick goes? is that the wine turned into blood? symbolically:    turned water into wine:    flag-wise...   white,        cardinal...   and then burgundy of cardinal red teasing the bishopric coloring of purple? i'm not here to undermine the faith...    i'm here for the self-deprecating humo(u)r... you don't even require atheism to get a laugh out of the conundrum - you, simply need... the deviation from the catholic rites...            an apostasy - but sure as **** it's there... secularism has allowed journalism a monastic status... first came the schism of church from state -    which remained intact in the church-state of the Vatican... so... FAIL... secondly had to come the schism of the state from the media...                i'm watching a schism take place...   apparently...         the comparative concern of church's divorce from the state was easy, having imploded into the Vatican... but the divorce of the media from the state?         apparently... not so easy... the media is already locking-down on obstructing the schism - arguing from an entertainment perspective...        a century or so later, and still, the persistent, media symbolism -      of crafting caricatures of a state...    as the state embodied in nothing more than subordination to its will... media is the new church... and if the separation of the state from the church took so long... how much time, do you "think", it will it take, for the state to segregate itself, from the media baronage? i suspect - as much time as it took to segregate itself from the church's cardinal-lineage.
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96
I feel your love, Yet your marksmanship is poor, For towards me your love aims not. Your intentions aimed elsewhere. A past lover. And I am not he. Malicious Misery pushed you too far. Too far this time. Your life is precious to me, Yet a treasure you seek not. It dwindles within these machines, Like a strand of seaweed. Being crashed upon by the waves, Of this poison you endowed yourself with. Much a tragedy this is. Yet not that of Shakespeare. No, this much too real, To take a form of fictitious imaginings. This, much more complicated, Than a Shakespearean masterpiece. For if so, Your love would be aimed at I. But it is not, And in resent, I mourn this tragedy. Yet, I must let love, Travel upon its everso hellbound path. My eyes lie upon thee, And my heart within the feeble hand of yours. Yet your mind lies elsewhere, And your desires lie with your mind. Upon he. The one currently at your arms reach. The one at your desires demand. The one you truly love. I must not resent this, For love hath struck thee as it struck I. And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well. I can see it in his sorrowful stare. He loves you in a way that I cannot. A consentful love. For I am just a scapegoat. Temporary. Well now you've quenched your desire. You've acquired what you sought. Love of he. (And I, for whatever its worth.) His love is a precious gold, And mine a mere coal. Black, unwanted. Only able to provide temporary warmth. Pardon me for obstructing. Love hath stolen my precious vision, And wandered, I, Into the meadow in which you hunt. As a poor marksman, Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me, And realized I am but a scapegoat, When the white stag is what you seek. Once before, you lined him in your sights. But evasive is this mystical creature. And once, he escap'd. If your life so solidifies, I shall replinish my vision, Banish my love, And obstruct thee no more. Instead, I must prosper in silence and patience. Shun my hearts desires, And let thee hunt. I apologize for my inconvenience. I shall groom each of your horses, So that you may ride into, The meadow of love together. Hence, beware of hunters, And wandering creatures. Teach thine unsteady hand, And this time... Don't miss.
0
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
Scapegoat of Coal
I feel your love, Yet your marksmanship is poor, For towards me your love aims not. Your intentions aimed elsewhere. A past lover. And I am not he. Malicious Misery pushed you too far. Too far this time. Your life is precious to me, Yet a treasure you seek not. It dwindles within these machines, Like a strand of seaweed. Being crashed upon by the waves, Of this poison you endowed yourself with. Much a tragedy this is. Yet not that of Shakespeare. No, this much too real, To take a form of fictitious imaginings. This, much more complicated, Than a Shakespearean masterpiece. For if so, Your love would be aimed at I. But it is not, And in resent, I mourn this tragedy. Yet, I must let love, Travel upon its everso hellbound path. My eyes lie upon thee, And my heart within the feeble hand of yours. Yet your mind lies elsewhere, And your desires lie with your mind. Upon he. The one currently at your arms reach. The one at your desires demand. The one you truly love. I must not resent this, For love hath struck thee as it struck I. And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well. I can see it in his sorrowful stare. He loves you in a way that I cannot. A consentful love. For I am just a scapegoat. Temporary. Well now you've quenched your desire. You've acquired what you sought. Love of he. (And I, for whatever its worth.) His love is a precious gold, And mine a mere coal. Black, unwanted. Only able to provide temporary warmth. Pardon me for obstructing. Love hath stolen my precious vision, And wandered, I, Into the meadow in which you hunt. As a poor marksman, Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me, And realized I am but a scapegoat, When the white stag is what you seek. Once before, you lined him in your sights. But evasive is this mystical creature. And once, he escap'd. If your life so solidifies, I shall replinish my vision, Banish my love, And obstruct thee no more. Instead, I must prosper in silence and patience. Shun my hearts desires, And let thee hunt. I apologize for my inconvenience. I shall groom each of your horses, So that you may ride into, The meadow of love together. Hence, beware of hunters, And wandering creatures. Teach thine unsteady hand, And this time... Don't miss.
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79
I put the blade down Once again The gleam of silver shining Obstructing my view Imagining metallic Deep in my skin I pick it up, Put it down, Pick it up again Recovery Or Relapse I choose the latter REVERSE I choose the latter Relapse Or Recovery Pick it up again Put it down I pick it up Deep in my skin Imagining metallic Obstructing my view The gleam of silver shining Once again I put the blade down
0
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Relapse Or Recovery? (First Reverse Poem)
Change, the word which makes us new Rarely fond of me or you Of all the variance Soon to come into view Some will greatly challenge you Infinite possibility lies in wait Never straying Greatness awaits Beyond oceans and walls Obstructing our view Resides a world Daring and new Endless unknowns beckon Requesting more than has ever before Something large and yet untoward (Precarious(Life(and(Migration in(the(Age(of(Globalization
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
1. Acrostic
I Tomorrow waits in the dried plant bones splintering balcony karma next to the ****** galatic twilight. Moon poems paralyzing yonder one color chess matches on transcended leather --thigh laughter buried alive in rubble under fifteen cushions of red flesh. Let's go wave our bottom banners undying in the realm of lifetimes and its spontaneous chases. Plethora inhales from one-legged warlords under fragrant wash pillars obstructing the pilgrimage of wrapping my stranger around a blade. The second blameless pantheon of Christianity. II put down the flowers, thought scars from a thirsty delusion that taste the industry instruction deep in meditation spoons that pierce the sides of students. Heaven rains/*angelic ************ on the obscure sail drifting towards the horizon --a mad-religious shape from the bottom banners undying III there isn't even the smallest incense that the earth's door shortens, an attempt in debt to defame the impregnable summer with washroom axes on the grape's night before you and I snap.
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
WonderHate
I cannot mitigate his momentum in my mind He charges through me like I charge through time He is the rhino in my brain A powerful unstoppable train When I am weak Survival is bleak And there's a horned stampede I'm unable to impede Until I'm trampled Into a stamped hole By a giant rhinoceros Who's power is preposterous His herd is deafening But he's my reckoning When his rhino's roar Echoes through my plains He's my dino sore In this uneasy terrain His hooves thunder through my Serengeti Sand flies in the air like confetti Obstructing my view of his breed I'm being ripped apart at the seams By the vultures who sensed my loneliness And made my body their ****** nest I lay there broken and praying For the mercy of a rhino straying
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Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC
Rhino
Constant in-depth analysis Fear, anxiety, paralysis Over-thinking everything Never-ending internal linguistic string Of preposterous things Obstructing contentment Self-resentment Overwrought Stop thinking already Entomb unwelcome thoughts In a long forgotten cemetery Without a headstone
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Without A Headstone
Five for fighting hands to the face personal foul player disgrace Illegal contact leap in the fray willful head shot leg astray Encroachment defense mouth guard out roughing the passer back field bout Grounding the pigskin mis-aligned horse collar tackle clip from behind Knee on knee offside end unnecessary roughness too many men Gross misconduct poke in the eye hooking the shooter sticks up high Match ejection over the top face off folly penalty shot Unsportsmanlike conduct chopping the block slew foot infraction hammer lock Stick to the head kick in the crotch **** end jab adhering the watch Slashing the d-man spearing the wing running the keeper back checking Intentional grounding stoppage in play punching and hacking delay of the game Striking the ref aggressor in fight obstructing the line out ear in a bite Loss of downs hands in the ruck pinching and boarding illegal upchuck Rules of the battle by the bye pushing the limits with a wink of an eye
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
The Sin Bin
- Why can’t I see past the buildings, skylines obstructing my view, collecting on the curb with doorways and steps inviting to someone else I suppose Still I push past, hugging the shoulder of a rush hour highway Staring into windows as they pass, staring back Exits signs point at me but I can’t listen Their warnings make no difference in cloverleaf grumblings and exhaust fume skywriting One foot in front of the other, worn converse high tops gray, the greens are lost with the sunset that breathes down my neck reaching for one more moon rise No rest, still creeping alongside sleeping 18 wheelers purring on their asphalt mattresses, straddling yellow lines leading to the bathrooms…not a chance 27 miles the sign reads in reflective lettering calling out to me It seems like nothing, compared to what is behind me now… My life or what it was But that is no longer my concern, my future is now 22 miles away Where your arms are waiting, holding my future…open, warm and I begin running faster Another 10 to go, down main streets with coffee shops and beauty parlours, one traffic light and a train station a kid on a bike delivering newspapers offers me a ride No need, it’s just around this corner… On the lawn is a flamingo, plastic and pink behind a white picket fence with a gate that creaks and a porch light comes on… illuminating my dream…as I see you, it has finally come true
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
On the lawn is a flamingo
I feel as though my life is entrained towards a constant sunset... Yet, I know at some point in my life there was a sunrise... Where I in turn, was a ray of hope for my family and friends... Blindsided by a hurricane... By a rainstorm that never ceased - A rainstorm that never even existed at all... Just clouds... Clouds in my mind and in my soul - Obstructing my view, Leaving me in the eye of the storm... Leaving me a motionless being with no direction, Content with my seemingly ever-seeking failure...
0
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
The Sun Reflected Upon Life
Awakened mind Body trapped In reduced consciousness Laying in a comatose state Stitched to the mattress Frozen Cannot speak Cannot scream Repressed hysteria Suffocating Under the weight Of the invisible intruder The presence Anchoring me down Obstructing my breathing Dark shadows Dancing By the chest of ****** drawers An apparition of a bearded ****** Standing at the edge of the bed Appears Dark particles of fabric fill my eyes I fight the fight This shall not be my demise Wake me up I will die another day.
0
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Sleep Paralysis
And the demons gathered, robed in darkness; making enchantments- casting spells And the night screamed loud- tears flowing pass telling all what the shadows says for out of the night, came a strange howl- eerie and uncanny But the Demons hovered nearer as the stars shined on them meandering with deep glitters; they cast a spell- forcing all men to sleep in the dead of the night and they sent nightmares of terrors, to all mankind- inducing sleep paralysis And the moon lit the dark skies, with the shadows hunting men still the Demons gathered, making a wish; an evil wish setting forth a journey- as they hover-fly flying through those oikon trees, hovering in one accord above with their black robes floating But they missed their pathways; Embarking on a mixed enroute Then the Angels flew in, obstructing their responsive stimuli the Demons attacked;the Angels subserve In the midst of the turmoil, The Demons pathways they fly away; with all they had The Angels took charge; breaking seals And the Demons fell down flat all with broken wings The moon light comes sharper, illuminating all sense of evil out of the night Angels; with their signets breaking spells And the heat was felt; as the Demons strengths gave way Angels took charge.
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
"And the Demons path ways; As the Angels took charge"
Service the sections we skim on four limbs, integral to the insect cause and effectively crippling the cross culture, dumb and auspicious in the year of the opposable thumb. Feline friction in the way you hug the fuzz and tug at the tension, a conscious show of subterfuge and pretentious pretenses concludes in the dismal aftermath of a stamped and sent ten cent envelope filled with nothing but hope. Sacrilegious privileges construct reality, obstructing the graffiti art along the cosmonaut crosswalk. The fire, fought with wine in the dark etched an imprint in ash where the cadre had left its' mark in the colors of a corroded battery. Under spray paint stars, hollow, half sunken sights echo through the illegitimate children of a wind chime. Sulfurous silver lining igniting the ego. A blue reaction in a black field, refraction with a maximum yield, it all glows. Feline friction in the way you hug the fuzz and tug at the tension, smooth and rigid, we fit in the grooves and service the sections in a crippled cross culture that crawls on all fours, integral to an insect cause.
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Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
Integral
Sit back and over-analyse the lies that you were serving my mind. Providing a way to relate and trying not to overcompensate for my lack of you, I should have known you’d ***** and moan enough that in time, I could make your whines rhyme. (Maybe that’s why your speaker points were always the lowest.) In this debate, rate my way and rate of diction, because truth is stranger than fiction I sigh cause I’m lying through my teeth when I say “I’m okay”. Sit back and wait for what you think you have to say We wager away our bad experiences, nearing another night of searing dreaming playing make-believe with a ballpoint pen. Remember the way all this started with an oration and the weight of what came to be a bad break up make up break up wake up to a world where you two don’t fit together. Force your cracks into each others’ like broken heirlooms Shake off the dust, Can’t shake the thought that you’d be happier without me. I can’t see through this cloud of doubt without an explanation, an answer to the chance that I can’t distinguish the morning dew from her rose petals that she tried to drown you in from your tears. “If this ain’t love then how do we get out?” Get out of this mess, regress back into an obsession with death, and destruction, let me provide some instruction on obstructing these thoughts that threaten to consume what I assume is your last shred of sanity.
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Sanity
The tendrils of my hair illuminate beneath the amber glow. Bathing. In the distance, a blue-green light flickers. A lone figure crosses its path– a silhouette obstructing the eerie glow. My heart pounds. The silhouette grows. Closer Closer I open my umbrella, casting a shadow to shield me from visibility. But I am too late. He steps into the streetlight. I gasp and drop my umbrella. The light flickers. My heart pounds. He raises his arm. Time stops. The only indication of movement is the amber light flickering against his outstretched arm. The flickering light is in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. Teasing me for succumbing to this forbidden emotion. Have you ever heard of a ghost feeling warmth before? Giving up on understanding, I laugh. Understanding is overrated. I touch his hand. The flickering stops. Ghosts are blue-green. My heart is amber.
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Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
Ghost under the light pt. 2 (A poem by Yuri from DDLC)
Something stands before me, Obstructing my strides. It stares with pain. I can see it in it's eyes. The irises of red, Boil with lust. I wield my blade. Ready to for war. I walk within the shadows, Serving those who are Just. "Remove yourself." Or I will destroy thy soul. Anger's Inferno, Charges full fury. I close the distance, Facing reality. Black out, Blood stains. This kid falls. Weakened by my blade. "I don't **** I only wish to serve." "Die now in vain." Your crimes have been purged. You took everything I knew. Defeated my purpose to live. I am renewed, I will not bow to your will.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC
My Blade of Just
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes they come out of the winter sky One by one hitting the pavement to claim victory for the season now unfolding At first they are vanquished almost instantly a price paid for those leading the charge However as they begin to accumulate and cluster a formidable foe is being created Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury Snow drifts form obstructing passageways entrapping those not prepared with an escape route Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence High winds and frostbite commingling in the air that will dominate at the end of the day Beauty or beast The conflict yet to be decided. Andreas Simic ©
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Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 7:19 AM UTC
Amidst the Snowflakes
Any time, he is the sun resplendent, charm unlimited, every flower go crazy when he smiles, desire makes them even shameless like animals in heat, they adore him as the jewel of their heart. But I alone was the lucky one, his eyes gleamed in desire, when falling first on me I knew, I alone was his lotus, the only flower he kissed with fervor, all others were just shadows that chased him, and he may have relented. Though born in the depth of this slushy pond, I am pure, having a single pointed mind, It's not only my ruddy petals, that made him fall in love, he felt my warm heart, many a love lorn beetle tried to pry open, in vein. But who would think this dark cloud, pretending to be a class apart, hovering above, haughty and proud, would invade his  intimate space, would eclipse our love so easily by obstructing our love exchanges. How long, a moving cloud, that dissolves every minute could hold sun her prisoner, against his wishes(I am sure) Winds of change are gathering with such devastating force , they would sweep her away, so far. Then, lashing rain would dissolve her pride, making the sky clearer than ever. I would again look at his eager face so worried not seeing me so long. "The dark days of anguish that kept our love in the dark is over" I would tell, "we are together, see how your passion flares none could separate us, till the day I wither, what if it would happen even in a day or two?"
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Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 9:30 AM UTC
What the lotus said
I'm cutting my hair. My mom thinks it's cute, But I don't really care. You touched it so it now means nothing but split ends and bleach in my skull. I'm cutting my hair; You're not welcome here. I hope you hate how it looks and I hope my dad hates it, too; New season new me is the cliché I chose. I'm cutting my hair: I like it more than I ever liked you. You are dead ends and fine words. I hope my dust fills your lungs and you long for me; But I don't care, I'm cutting my hair. I'm cutting my hair because it's gross, More gross than you and your venom kiss. I'm cutting my hair because it's cute; I'm cutting my hair because I despise you. I’m at the sink holding scissors and razors; I wish they were as sharp as your eye for imperfection. I look in the mirror, But I don’t see myself; I see someone stronger and wiser and better than you. Can you recognize such a pretty little thing? Makeup smeared across my lips, Chunks of blonde missing? Would you even care if these scissors slip, Scaring my face and obstructing your view? Did I ever mean anything to you? But why do I care?... I already cut my hair.
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Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
Hair
I have nothing to say because you've made me realise how stupid I've been and nothing can make it better now. It can't be fixed. It's broken. Shattered. How stupid I was to believe what we had was ever strong enough to withhold everything you made me feel, the weight of the pain, the duality of our emotions how naïve I was to believe in the unachievable, that I could reach the unreachable I've realised how much I have been used, just something on the side that's always there for convenience, for the experience, but never for the love that I deserved And how stupidly naïve I've been to keep playing your twisted game, to keep convincing myself that your lies were the truth - even through doubt and accusations I believed in you, to keep allowing myself to fall deeper and deeper into the quicksand that was consuming me, the water that was drowning me, the light that was blinding me that was stupid, stupid, stupid I've realised how much one tiny thing can affect you and make you feel so much that you don't know what to feel, so you just feel nothing, empty, worthless I've realised how quickly you can go from being everything to someone, their whole world, then the next moment you're everything you never thought you'd be - a broken music string, a shard of broken glass, something that was once part of something beautiful, but that they no longer need, easily replaceable yet imperfectly replicable How someone transforms from a caring companion to a silent stranger without you noticing or believing, and you waste your days and nights stupidly, relentlessly torturing yourself with thoughts about the exact moment that this transformation may have occurred, torturing yourself about all the things you should have done, should have said, but you didn't, suddenly carry the weight of all the sadness and heartache in your life But of course this weight is still yours. And the carrier is still you. Or rather the shadow of what you should have been. I still have nothing to say. A million thoughts but no words. I will not let words betray me - my thoughts keep me safe. I will not let emotions consume me - small hope keeps me sane. it is stupid, stupid, stupid to believe that I don't deserve to carry this weight all the way out of the broken path of pain and regret, to release it in the light of new possibilities and new ideas and new behaviour because I am now free - I can be who I want to be and think what I want to think and say what I want to say - I will no longer be broken glass but a mosaic, no longer a broken string but an instrument, because no one is obstructing the construction of my goals and no one is disrupting the formation of my dreams and no one is making me believe I don't deserve what I want, that I don't deserve more than what you gave me. I've realised how stupid I was to believe in you.
0
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Stupid
I have nothing to say because you've made me realise how stupid I've been and nothing can make it better now. It can't be fixed. It's broken. Shattered. How stupid I was to believe what we had was ever strong enough to withhold everything you made me feel, the weight of the pain, the duality of our emotions how naïve I was to believe in the unachievable, that I could reach the unreachable I've realised how much I have been used, just something on the side that's always there for convenience, for the experience, but never for the love that I deserved And how stupidly naïve I've been to keep playing your twisted game, to keep convincing myself that your lies were the truth - even through doubt and accusations I believed in you, to keep allowing myself to fall deeper and deeper into the quicksand that was consuming me, the water that was drowning me, the light that was blinding me that was stupid, stupid, stupid I've realised how much one tiny thing can affect you and make you feel so much that you don't know what to feel, so you just feel nothing, empty, worthless I've realised how quickly you can go from being everything to someone, their whole world, then the next moment you're everything you never thought you'd be - a broken music string, a shard of broken glass, something that was once part of something beautiful, but that they no longer need, easily replaceable yet imperfectly replicable How someone transforms from a caring companion to a silent stranger without you noticing or believing, and you waste your days and nights stupidly, relentlessly torturing yourself with thoughts about the exact moment that this transformation may have occurred, torturing yourself about all the things you should have done, should have said, but you didn't, suddenly carry the weight of all the sadness and heartache in your life But of course this weight is still yours. And the carrier is still you. Or rather the shadow of what you should have been. I still have nothing to say. A million thoughts but no words. I will not let words betray me - my thoughts keep me safe. I will not let emotions consume me - small hope keeps me sane. it is stupid, stupid, stupid to believe that I don't deserve to carry this weight all the way out of the broken path of pain and regret, to release it in the light of new possibilities and new ideas and new behaviour because I am now free - I can be who I want to be and think what I want to think and say what I want to say - I will no longer be broken glass but a mosaic, no longer a broken string but an instrument, because no one is obstructing the construction of my goals and no one is disrupting the formation of my dreams and no one is making me believe I don't deserve what I want, that I don't deserve more than what you gave me. I've realised how stupid I was to believe in you.
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18
well... technically every *********** is an abortion, i have it all the time, but when a woman has it, esp. a Russian orthodox rich girl it's time to call the Mamelukes because "a mongol horde is invading", there was nothing legally binding me to alimony payments, no marriage certificate, but my friend, you meddle in other people's private life, think you're the man with a career in law but end up staging your little: the judge, the jury the executioner in your bedroom? FORGET IT! you're just a lawyer, a scavenger, you don't get to play the game 'who's your daddy' so easily... you think you're allowed to provide the architecture of a courtroom in your bedroom... you're wrong. take your little orthodox russian ***** with my ******* son and live a long life... i asked her: i don't mind using condoms, she said, ********* into me, i'm on contraceptive pills... two apartments in St. Petersburg and getting a degree in Edinburgh you think she's poor? doubt it, i'm not going to be a ploughing work-horse... and forging your attempt to placebo the pills with lies... all that feminism and still the russian girls think they're killing a human being... but like i said: the bladder and the **** develop outside the womb, well brain too, but the **** and bladder are more important for the ***** what you're aborting is just as much a tadpole as a fishy stink; is your argument caused by the fact that you gave the Star of Bethlehem to Jesus and not Joseph because of Mary's fancy for a centurion? it has to be! way-hey mainstream, give it to the kid and you get Freud... god i hate Freud... not because he's a jew, it just made the whole being born a neurosis, you need test-tubes, surrogate mothers, IVF, two Elton Johns to not feel a stigma... even if the world is harsh on you and you end up living with your parents... mother ******* if they all adopted the Caesarian technique of giving birth there would be no Freud; well say goodbye to Darwin with that... obstructing the Caesarian intervention with Genesis quotes will still produce heads sticking out of vaginas and by god that's no Michaelangelo.
0
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
Caesarian versus Freud
well... technically every *********** is an abortion, i have it all the time, but when a woman has it, esp. a Russian orthodox rich girl it's time to call the Mamelukes because "a mongol horde is invading", there was nothing legally binding me to alimony payments, no marriage certificate, but my friend, you meddle in other people's private life, think you're the man with a career in law but end up staging your little: the judge, the jury the executioner in your bedroom? FORGET IT! you're just a lawyer, a scavenger, you don't get to play the game 'who's your daddy' so easily... you think you're allowed to provide the architecture of a courtroom in your bedroom... you're wrong. take your little orthodox russian ***** with my ******* son and live a long life... i asked her: i don't mind using condoms, she said, ********* into me, i'm on contraceptive pills... two apartments in St. Petersburg and getting a degree in Edinburgh you think she's poor? doubt it, i'm not going to be a ploughing work-horse... and forging your attempt to placebo the pills with lies... all that feminism and still the russian girls think they're killing a human being... but like i said: the bladder and the **** develop outside the womb, well brain too, but the **** and bladder are more important for the ***** what you're aborting is just as much a tadpole as a fishy stink; is your argument caused by the fact that you gave the Star of Bethlehem to Jesus and not Joseph because of Mary's fancy for a centurion? it has to be! way-hey mainstream, give it to the kid and you get Freud... god i hate Freud... not because he's a jew, it just made the whole being born a neurosis, you need test-tubes, surrogate mothers, IVF, two Elton Johns to not feel a stigma... even if the world is harsh on you and you end up living with your parents... mother ******* if they all adopted the Caesarian technique of giving birth there would be no Freud; well say goodbye to Darwin with that... obstructing the Caesarian intervention with Genesis quotes will still produce heads sticking out of vaginas and by god that's no Michaelangelo.
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51
remember me never and forget me always please just please let my memories fade away faint as the distance stars and planets let us say our goodbyes to Jupiter the daybreak comes in fast quickly to separate the satellites partitioning off the stars from the horizon please just please fade away clouds roll in,  obstructing my view and the haze of the sun veils my eyes it sets a fog over our melancholy scenery please just please let me fade away and here I take my leave
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Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
i plead. [2012.]
And suddenly I was weightless, Barely a cloud Near the ground, obstructing the Paths that my eyes wander down. Simply a stream of consciousness, Fear, Anguish, Demonstrated by demons And the flames flavoured Like chocolate and ghost peppers. Burning blisters on the insides of My teeth, spreading through my bones As a parasite would slither Down my throat. And I wanted to be purified.
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Lost
I blamed the universe... Before I blamed you. You held a blindfold over my eyes with tears in it; allowed me to sight only part of the scene before me. I blamed the trees with the burnt branches; they bent ever so slightly to tickle you and lure you out to play. I blamed your tribe; they put you on a pedastal, a pedastal that did not stay still for you to lay. I blamed the leaves and the salt; they coerced you to mould into someone Unknown to me. Unknown to you. I blamed myself; as I knew the blade would not go as deep as it would, if I Confessed to blaming you. But In the end..... You made the choices that brought a shard of glass down upon our ties. I say you blindfolded me... But in reality I know, it was me, me holding that blindfold....allowing you to recite all those lies. If only I knew how colourful the world could be without it obstructing my view. Red and yellow and pink and green Purple and orange and blue....... I can now sing a rainbow, Sing a rainbow, Sing a rainbow too.
0
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:27 PM UTC
Blame