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"obviate" poems
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough. One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews. The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable. Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind. Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic, the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious. Wealth does not obviate death and we know it. Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches, school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable       Crichton? Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair. But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own       ******** While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself. Imagining the world without the self will make you whole. What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well. After the war the brothers started a small trucking company in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in       what happened.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Defiance
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough. One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews. The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable. Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind. Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic, the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious. Wealth does not obviate death and we know it. Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches, school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable       Crichton? Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair. But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own       ******** While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself. Imagining the world without the self will make you whole. What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well. After the war the brothers started a small trucking company in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in       what happened.
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quips scrawled on scraps of paper, written during a come-down stupor. something she wrote, and then proceeded to destroy. (i gathered all the pieces but have become too lazy to care how she upset herself) drawings drawn in between sentences, in between words. in between syllables. drawn to obviate thought, to put me somewhere between Zen and poser. (the drugs obviate titles, but i’d hedge my bets on the latter) the remains of the Urban Squirrel Hunter – a mythology of the Grey Fox – shredded in the maw of a blue heeler-mutt. written while ****** drunk, and heat-stroked. poetry of a homeless kid. ramblings of an alcoholic, ravings of a tweaker, with commentary by the one who is just visiting –        self-destruction is all we can ever be certain of. religion created in a notebook while doing research on a chemical. figured out what near-death means, found life by dumb luck. found life via pocket valiums, gave up religion while sweating in the snow.
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Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
she was this time of year.
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but patient illness— An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are— It was a short procession, The Bobolink was there— An aged Bee addressed us— And then we knelt in prayer— We trust that she was willing— We ask that we may be. Summer—Sister—Seraph! Let us go with thee! In the name of the Bee— And of the Butterfly— And of the Breeze—Amen!
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2k
The Gentian weaves her fringes
on the day we obviate all wars our eyes shall see a new dawn as brothers and sisters of the earth we'll bear witness to tranquility history's pages wrought in killing stains conflicts repeated too many times our planet's inhabitants all so blind they see not the dove of peace man has forgotten the tenant of loving thy neighbor as an awful consequence the gun rules with might unto the drum of nonviolence man has not yet begun to march lay down the sword of war as it gravely shadows all nations on the horizon a light doth flicker beseeching man to live cordially dark clouds ever they're looming which path shall man walk upon the high road leads to quiet arms dispensed with and deposed pursuing the trail of rancor brings but discordant clashes
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Obviate All Wars
the holiday season has just begun and the death toll on the roadways do stun drivers driving far too fast for these maniac drivers the dice is cast drivers consuming too much beer and wine the outcome for them is the end of the line drivers taking uppers to stay awake they're putting their lives and others at stake some forethought by drivers who get behind the wheel may obviate  the death statistics which grow with zeal
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Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
Death Statistics
~for Pamela Rae~ you cannot amend reality by passing a law. if we could, then we should have one requiring society to guarantee a happy childhood. every **** time I propose to myself a resolution that I am an ok poet, I stumble on to a poet here of whom I was unaware, and you were, correctly aware, that brings a good light into the world, vowing to throw in the towel, the I'm ok resolution never passes, voted down 2 - 1; Against:  Myself, I In Favor: Me which necessitates try try again Einstein's Insanity Theorem fool proofed. Exclaim! what a goodly word.   If we ex'd our claims (need, due, want) more, walking in quiet contemplation, we could climb on our roof (I can) and proclaim (silently) glory glory hallelujah and it would not matter to whom  (which diety) we are addressing.   Outstanding! what a goodly word. If I could satisfy the claims against me outstanding, still unsatisfied, while I am yet among the living, especially the one that are self-propelled, that would be outstanding. I would rather the simple monetary motived corruption of a dishonest businessman, than the cowardly silence of the fools we elect to govern us, and gravely pretend to know what is good for us. I call this, My Theory of the Greater Corruption. Word Salad: making crazy combinations of words, i.e. eggplant smile, vegetable sunrise etc. hell, I just can't make any up, it is cheap and lazy crafty no craftsmanship, craftwomanship but very self/satisfying and tasty too,  I'm sure, and authentic 100%  b.s. The apocalypse is always nigh. Ironically, very true. Let's keep it that way. neigh neigh neigh. I write many more words than I speak;   by a very wide margin; this pleases me, by a very wide margin. complexification (yes, it is a real word) and glorification rhyme because they both end in shunned. In heaven, the following are outlawed: yoga, exercise, dieting, crying; denying and lying.   the latter obviate the former. glory glory hallelujah and hot **** >•> 4/18/17 2:43am
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
musings miscellanea (amending reality)
~for Pamela Rae~ you cannot amend reality by passing a law. if we could, then we should have one requiring society to guarantee a happy childhood. every **** time I propose to myself a resolution that I am an ok poet, I stumble on to a poet here of whom I was unaware, and you were, correctly aware, that brings a good light into the world, vowing to throw in the towel, the I'm ok resolution never passes, voted down 2 - 1; Against:  Myself, I In Favor: Me which necessitates try try again Einstein's Insanity Theorem fool proofed. Exclaim! what a goodly word.   If we ex'd our claims (need, due, want) more, walking in quiet contemplation, we could climb on our roof (I can) and proclaim (silently) glory glory hallelujah and it would not matter to whom  (which diety) we are addressing.   Outstanding! what a goodly word. If I could satisfy the claims against me outstanding, still unsatisfied, while I am yet among the living, especially the one that are self-propelled, that would be outstanding. I would rather the simple monetary motived corruption of a dishonest businessman, than the cowardly silence of the fools we elect to govern us, and gravely pretend to know what is good for us. I call this, My Theory of the Greater Corruption. Word Salad: making crazy combinations of words, i.e. eggplant smile, vegetable sunrise etc. hell, I just can't make any up, it is cheap and lazy crafty no craftsmanship, craftwomanship but very self/satisfying and tasty too,  I'm sure, and authentic 100%  b.s. The apocalypse is always nigh. Ironically, very true. Let's keep it that way. neigh neigh neigh. I write many more words than I speak;   by a very wide margin; this pleases me, by a very wide margin. complexification (yes, it is a real word) and glorification rhyme because they both end in shunned. In heaven, the following are outlawed: yoga, exercise, dieting, crying; denying and lying.   the latter obviate the former. glory glory hallelujah and hot **** >•> 4/18/17 2:43am
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and i’ve lived years of turbulence; to be loc- k’d out. problems str- iking as an adder. pro- blems adding to the strike out. end of the game we all play but for the lone individ- ual, and i was hand’d the pack of smokes with a ten wrap’d ‘ro- und. not an act of for- ced reliance. act of:   – save your money.      you need it more      than i. and i’ve learn’d to ac- cept. to receive with grace and charity, to offer in grace and ch- arity. that other ten percent.       braking.      January, year prior, to be found destitute yet suffer no one’s restrictions. and the numb fingers rem- ind me of my obstina- nce, remind me that i’ve been made to suf- fer the cold. oh, how the frigid men slept with a rotg- ut shank prepared. en- ding dreams in which survival is their sunrise. and i pull’d a scarf over my face to obviate the cold. and in the false spring of year prior, the trees were trick’d to give up their leaves budding life as an early spring sacrifice.
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Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
stone fish.
My brother, I am done with this game, taking lives has turned me cold, feeling gone, with their cold eyes sewn to my soul, I yearn for love, but it eludes me, If I stop, will it find me? or does it obviate me? My brother, I am done with this game, rendering harmless, or terminating with extreme prejudice, just sayings to absolve and exculpate our actions, My brother, I can’t stand this, I cry to her, or to the ghost that I wish was her, I ruined it, and all in the name of God and country.
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Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
For God and Country
My weary eyes widened when Your silver tongue slits my pale neck Thus, I sank my fangs below your ear to suffice my blood drunk. As the edge of your dagger trod back and forth on my skinny wrist. Dead as the night. Where the moon sheds her aging skin as I peel my own. We were occupied with such ardor like a peculiar kind of intimacy. ~ I turned away after that, Left you with the aftermath I faced the light to cast a shadow where you chose to dwell and might as well make perforations on my back. She said she loves me but all I ever felt was antipathy ~ If I can just sew my lips to my inner most thoughts to obviate myself from forming a lie But, I can’t. You said ‘sing to me sweet’, so I sugarcoated every word that came out from my fraudulent mouth I was just in it for the thrill. ~ The stars I put up in your sky were fake Life is nothing but a masquerade and you didn't fell for a prince charming. Because the rainbow I showed you was just the smoke from my Sobranie.
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Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 6:47 AM UTC
The Rainbow you saw was just the Smoke from my Sobranie
Awake! this is life Be not ungrateful for its toll Cultivate an aura of contentment Delve deeply for that thing they call a soul Examine all your motives and intentions Fling aside delusion in your path Glimpse through tiny keyhole possibility Harness all resistance with your wrath Imitate great ones who came before you Jeopard not the love within your heart Karma cannot limit your ability to Lacerate each falsehood all apart Mingle with the angels out among us Never rest until you need the sleep Obviate the demons which cling to us Perforate what makes you feel cheap Querulous we walk the road to happy Rutted as it is with mire and muck Spare your energies and sweet entreaties To walking ghosts who just don't give a **** Upend all ideas that forestall you Vindicate what you know to be true Windmills of illusion won't enthrall you Xcept when you opt to allow them to Yesterday may blind us with her memory Zelos might appreciate our idolatry
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Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
A to Zeal
Long before daybreak With eyelids so heavy Beseeching, let me sleep! Never-ending, indefatigable thoughts In waves, each more belligerent Than its foregone, Sang of tempestuous oceans Of Winters of long-lasting darkness. A bewail - of bleakness - For souls convoluted amongst alb foam. To frank such thoughts Dry them underneath moonlight Obviate nefarious whims. To coerce the ways of rational kin, Eradicate rapt, impetuous Combustions fired by The cholera of heathens. With herb and candle, enthrall, With hammer and anvil, fashion! Worming out the Eye of Dystopia I wage war, Quill in shivering fingers - si vis pacem para bellum.
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Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 2:53 AM UTC
Eye of Dystopia
Maybe it was my fate to always hate To loathe and despise After all love and hate they stand side by side at the same entry gate into the mind. Sedate I'd feel the need to vent to isolate, to feel Something, anything, a negative rather than a positive. To overstate my need. My want to hate would obviate and obscure my fate. Hate doesn't differentiate Hate needs no explaining Emanate hate, and you are guarded from others, and yourself. Love allows disappointment Hate allows the known. Hate humiliates me, this I know It manipulates, resonates and reverberates But, this I know Hate like a crow will pick my carcass like carrion. Please let love pervade Please let love venerate Please let love in at the gate.
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Hate
Your verisimilitude is deceiving. The memories we've shared are momentous. I thought there would be a probability of "us" but you rebuff the love I've showed and left me confused. The inception of our story is the part which I loved the most. This past few days I was lost and crestfallen by the memory of you. I never felt reluctant on every word you said and promised. But they were just words, words that will never be executed. I need to obviate myself from hoping. Our love became prosaic as you slowly repudiate this nerve racking feelings of mine. The thought of you should unyoked my mind for my heart opposes with my common sense. Thank you for watching me as I fall.
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Untitled
Why you always speaking voodoo on my name Trying to turn me violent By boiling the blood in the canals of my veins And short circuiting the wires energizing the flows in my brain   It like you ****** When I crash into the base of my pains Hoping that I would turn into sand So you can bury your feet in the grains Your logic has always been misconstrued But now its just simply insane Like... really ******* crazy Exertion you abuse daily Your life force steady draining In attempt to jeopardize my safety Im just trying to push these rhymes Before you have me pushing these daises But no But Hell noo But **** noooooo You too lazy And revenge like ***** on a plater Is way too tasty Its elementary to know that your wrong But yet sing a song that does nothing but blame me For the lost of your flame For the tragedy associated with the syllables of your name For the distortion of the water mirroring the curves of your frame All things I have not nothing to do with But I wish I could claim Yet your determine to finalize this quest So you stay unrest Staying awake to see the sun dying in the horizon To be silenced by the resurrect of the moons crest A machine would be impressed Witnessing you out perform its best They way you devote your essences trying to obviate mine A busy schedule But thats fine Because you always find time to make time Why? You could see so much more Feel so much more Do so much more Be so much more But you let hate consume your once illuminating core So this is a warning to a soul I once adored Free yourself from this self inflicted war And don't think of me Not even in the slightest anymore
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Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
Rule
Why you always speaking voodoo on my name Trying to turn me violent By boiling the blood in the canals of my veins And short circuiting the wires energizing the flows in my brain   It like you ****** When I crash into the base of my pains Hoping that I would turn into sand So you can bury your feet in the grains Your logic has always been misconstrued But now its just simply insane Like... really ******* crazy Exertion you abuse daily Your life force steady draining In attempt to jeopardize my safety Im just trying to push these rhymes Before you have me pushing these daises But no But Hell noo But **** noooooo You too lazy And revenge like ***** on a plater Is way too tasty Its elementary to know that your wrong But yet sing a song that does nothing but blame me For the lost of your flame For the tragedy associated with the syllables of your name For the distortion of the water mirroring the curves of your frame All things I have not nothing to do with But I wish I could claim Yet your determine to finalize this quest So you stay unrest Staying awake to see the sun dying in the horizon To be silenced by the resurrect of the moons crest A machine would be impressed Witnessing you out perform its best They way you devote your essences trying to obviate mine A busy schedule But thats fine Because you always find time to make time Why? You could see so much more Feel so much more Do so much more Be so much more But you let hate consume your once illuminating core So this is a warning to a soul I once adored Free yourself from this self inflicted war And don't think of me Not even in the slightest anymore
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. . love is shaped, like cities burning; tracing fingers, soot and ashes. (yeah, kinda like that) don't get high off the marker; **** yeah, we got there through wasting a ****** addict's table. (hope you ******* read this) pain is as much coping as it is a distraction; let the **** go. you're not held near-high; you know this. you know; where and what are you? slanted text, and there was given too much effort; too much thought; too much this self. birds of prey that mock the night, blood-howling animals, and YOU ARE NO BEAST. through the darkness, through the night; obviate names from your learned-nature long before the thought of landing. this world made for ending; howl, ************
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Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
Howl, ************ (3)
You negate and overcomplicate, Obsessed with trivial intricacies; At the risk of contradicting yourself, You foolproofed your own idiocy. You oppose in totality just for the sake of it, And obviate the need to deliberate; Instead of making bridges from paragraphs, You built garrisons out of sentences. Convinced in waging petty wars, You run your mouth without poise; But for all intents and purposes, A bark is nothing but recycled noise.
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Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 1:47 PM UTC
The Tragedy of the Common Sense
Visions of them leaving, evidence such as this I have not for my claims, just a feeling that I trust... I have no choice. What is there to do but believe? Burn me with your tongue; I question your innocence before I obviate my doubts, piling up like bodies in winter. There is no room for this despondency. Your touch an effigy of permanence accompanied by sea salt - scents I need to drown in if I am to ever forget how your fingers felt on my skin. My eyes subdued fail to tell all that my anima screams fervently; lips sewn, I cannot deceive, but you, you certainly saw this coming. Duplicitous cruelty, tectonic shifts when you leave. Perpetual ivory haunting; I remember everything, how you built me and beat me to a mass of abdicable flesh. Too late for limpidity, you call me on a camp adventure while I'm still singing "defeated", my faith electrified, I ask... Is it a surprise now they're all gone? I am not them.
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
Soothsayer