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"outcomes" poems
We need negativity It's the only thing more potent than the potion of positivity While we concern ourselves with the priority of support that positivity brings Negativity is what makes up move It's the faults we strive to perfect In the aspect of perfect Perfect itself is seen as positive to the point of negative outcomes To pick on looks or physical attributes To be stepped on These are the negative effects of favoritism That let humans know they are humans to other humans in the best of ways It's the negative the humbles And the positive that opens possibilities Only to fall on the cushion It's the negative that wraps the fear into a burrito and the positivity that plates it on hope It fills us while the other gives flavor And while you might disagree I just talking about human equality
0
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
Negative equals positive
I had no idea how terrible it all was Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes It cleared the mist that I often now miss From the eyes of an unwilling devil Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level I remember it all from that god awful view The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** ***** Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt These emotional storms - they strike me as cold Who am I to cry and complain about life Everyone is united by the suffering light The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm If only I could command my heart not to wither
0
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 3:48 AM UTC
Euphoria strikes
Someday we'll all be dead And we'll be sitting in our graves wondering where the time went It's no so much a problem; it's just a shame when you realised How many wasted opportunities passed you by and you didn't blink an eye Take the cute guy opposite you for example You let him just walk away With a thousand possible outcomes from one word, "hello" But maybe in a parallel universe, an alternate reality, you ran off the train with him And just took a chance And maybe you wouldn't be lying in a grave regretting The boy with the blue eyes opposite you on the train
0
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Blue Eyed Boy
Oh you a gangsta now? Let me guess cause you got those "hard" tattoos Jordans as shoes And blow more green in your in between time Oh you a gangsta now? Cause you fight a little bit Stay on that corner and quick to pollute your nation With the wicked ways of degredation Oh you a gangster now? Cause you roll with a clique To weak to stand on your own But there validation gives you the courage To steal without hesitation Peddle drugs with no reservation Take life as quick as a minute passes... Well I hope those tats come with teflon Cause while you out here playing the don There's plenty associates that'll aim at your head For your place just to save face with a few so called good men I hope that corner has insurance or at least comes with benefits Cause as past gangstas before you predicts there are only two outcomes present Lifetime in a 6x8 Or 6 feet under while your soul patiently waits the outcome of where it will spend eternity I guess this is what our forefathers gave their lives for For this ignorance of the so called gangasta
0
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
Gangsta
kindness eats least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply steep the leaves in hot water gently keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer our friends are like sunbeams I jump in the water your sun-burned back is peeling out loud you remind me not to bend down too quickly she hounds me with her questions lessons on arithmetic I’m so sick of it histrionics and sonic lectures his tricks are onto it moronic manic accidents red lions with long necks deflect authority and wager on credit the outcomes are certain all will fade away indefinitely understand this and measure your life by breaths and not complexity densities are hiding in visionary lightning finding new faculties every moment we are swift in our limitless capacity for adaptation a refulgent emulsion immersed in water and poetry under the highest authority or just higher scrutiny wrapped in a paranoid blanket of heightened security all is being watched right now as judges redefine your beauty if you are truly interested in finding happiness you must understand that all magic is abraxas and satisfaction unceasingly attacks this as we collapse upon the backs of ecstatic languages....
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Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
abraxas
Secrets create, Enemies and friends. Can start new trends. Reveal new tech. Endanger peace. Turn blue to red. Secret whispers. Secrets welcome. Extra income. Conditional love. Regretful outcomes. Emotional sin. The hidden grin. Secret whispers. Secret sounds. Entrapped inside. Craves to be found. Results in lies. Eats till it dies, Till realized. Secret whispers, do not hide.
0
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
Secret Whispers
~♢~☆~♢~ A kiss of breath This delight, To inhale twilight. Ride the nightlight to the stars. To kiss the breath within each moment Free from introspection, doubt and regrets. It is here, I yearn to dwell. No fear of neglect. No fear of offense. No fear of fear. Yet, ever vigil, to a slight variance of mood. Of circumstance. Of changes that determine outcomes and future. Fear of loss. Fear of rejection. Fear of fear. I succomb to this perception. Live in accordance within the rules and structure that appear to maintain order   to each of my days Yet I await, with anticipation... To kiss the breath within each moment This delight. To inhale twilight. Ride the nightlight to the stars ~♢~☆~♢~ Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.
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Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
A kiss of breath
Life is full of mischief and artful trickery The way through never made easy for the foolhardy Misleading gestures only employed to solely distract Left up to you to decipher and hopefully extract Experiences teach much, had you only been accepting and learning That a dove could be made to appear; out of thin air, out of nothing When the road ahead offers no more than mere misdirections Altered trajectories stemming from convenient misinterpretations Your cards may have been dealt revealing astonishing outcomes "Not the hand you get but the game you play," said some Depending on deft wrists and a flick of the wand Overnight you'll wake to find that a new day had dawned Only would happen if into the wind you hadn't spat Hope would emerge like a hare out of a top hat The play on light and shadow, nothing short of dramatic You volunteer onstage, accompanied by apprehension and suspenseful music Faced with an eager audience; you realise that alone you stand Be not surprised to learn that love is life's sleight of hand...
0
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
Sleight of Hand
I worry so much about you Just being simple and clear I know very little and few Without you anymore here I fear all the negative outcomes I fear the pain you go through I fear you unhappy and alone Although none of that fear is new You may wonder why I still fear We aren't together, yes I sure know I do still think this feeling is queer But there's nowhere for my fear to go When I try to talk to you, it's to help But when I do, it seems you no longer care I know other worries will soon develop But giving up on you now is not really fair If you wish to still talk, I am always here For you are my Polish Buddy, my dear
0
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Worrying
A black and white world seemed simple enough. Two colors. Two tones. Two outcomes. Two options. Two. But in reality it is more complex. People use black and white when describing something that is clear as day. But the endless shades of grey, the endless tones of black, the endless combinations of white. How can we use black and white to describe something that's suppose to be simple? We can't really. Try to describing the color red, when all you see is a shade of grey. How would you know when two colors go together? I guess they all would. Grey matches grey. White matches white. Darkness, matches darkness. So maybe, seeing in black and white is more clear.. Maybe..
0
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
Black and White
What is buried so deep inside A memory so entwined many lines and differing angles The same frame can be seen Differently with different lenses Different outcome for every scene Can alter all the things And I would not remain as the person I am
0
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 11:05 PM UTC
What outcomes
Some things we loose, while others we gain. When we take chances and put ourselves and hearts on the line any day is exceptional. No day is ordinary, for an ordinary day is when I met you. An "ordinary" day changed my life. I met you in my favourite season, I was wearing my favourite touque. You were foreign to me... exceptional, mysterious and cute. The blood stains on your canvas pants like a piece of art. The body of a doe in your bare hands, disturbing yet beautiful. The wildness that coursed through your veins, the life in your eyes... I always knew I'd find the man of dreams in the forest surrounded by trees. Although it was in a parking lot beside the naked hardwood fate brought me to you. Late night procrastination brought me to you. Under ordinary circumstances came extraordinary outcomes. We loose what is less to gain what is more fate brought me to you an ordinary day became extraordinary and grew forever more... <3
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Extraordinary Love
I just want to go 200 on the interstate and see if the world still wants me My skill is wasted on slowness Underappreciated and mistaken for arrogance Behind the wheel I am confirmed Decisions here are not the customs of monotony But a nuanced puzzle of physics I am a navigator in an ocean of outcomes The engine is roaring with me We were made for exploding
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Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
What you need to understand about speeding...
It was a dark and stormy night when an angel of death took flight. She took to the skies and followed the thunder to the one who would begin their eternal slumber. The man who would soon receive such a fate denied the love of someone great. He told her she was ugly and didn't have time to give his love to someone who wasn't divine. Then what happened next devastated her parents when they read her text. He had no remorse when he was given the news. So the angel of death made him pay his dues. People take things for granted. That's to be expected. But professing love is not an act that deserves being disrespected. If we took the time to think about all of the outcomes of our choices, the world might not lose so many beautiful voices.
0
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
Beautiful voices
In order to start change you must make the choice to be willing to change Choices start from the heart then the mind follows Changes happen after a person realizes that what the affect was on them and those who surround them Once that certain person begins to start making the right choices then the progress will slowly affect the person No matter how bad or good the choice may be, you're always left with a choice After the choice there's always a reaction to whatever action may be, it's left up to you for the outcome The outcome will always be left up to you, make good choices and good outcome; make bad choices and you get bad outcomes Change doesn't happen over night or in an blink of an eye, it will take time and willingness to learn what is necessary to change Not all change is for the good, many people fail to realize that change can be bad results Not due to the willingness or the time but the focus of which matter is off the right direction and leads to only chaos and destruction Many of us don't think about where an action my lead, some of us think before we act and that is the difference between right and wrong With every choice that is choose it leads you to a place that is unknown, darkness or the lightness is the only two options you have Choices always start from the within, meaning the heart, the soul, and the spirit; without these 3 being focused on the choices to change there's no point in trying to change The heart is the muscle that controls who you are The soul is beyond our reach, it is the one thing that is unique about us as humans The spirit is higher power inside of us, either from above or from below; When all of you is one then the change will affect you and those surround you allot more than what it did before But without your whole self then the choices to change become pointless; you'll just become a creation of your own self destruction By making choices to change you must have the right mindset and know what you want in life.
0
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 3:48 PM UTC
Choices To Change
In order to start change you must make the choice to be willing to change Choices start from the heart then the mind follows Changes happen after a person realizes that what the affect was on them and those who surround them Once that certain person begins to start making the right choices then the progress will slowly affect the person No matter how bad or good the choice may be, you're always left with a choice After the choice there's always a reaction to whatever action may be, it's left up to you for the outcome The outcome will always be left up to you, make good choices and good outcome; make bad choices and you get bad outcomes Change doesn't happen over night or in an blink of an eye, it will take time and willingness to learn what is necessary to change Not all change is for the good, many people fail to realize that change can be bad results Not due to the willingness or the time but the focus of which matter is off the right direction and leads to only chaos and destruction Many of us don't think about where an action my lead, some of us think before we act and that is the difference between right and wrong With every choice that is choose it leads you to a place that is unknown, darkness or the lightness is the only two options you have Choices always start from the within, meaning the heart, the soul, and the spirit; without these 3 being focused on the choices to change there's no point in trying to change The heart is the muscle that controls who you are The soul is beyond our reach, it is the one thing that is unique about us as humans The spirit is higher power inside of us, either from above or from below; When all of you is one then the change will affect you and those surround you allot more than what it did before But without your whole self then the choices to change become pointless; you'll just become a creation of your own self destruction By making choices to change you must have the right mindset and know what you want in life.
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20
You quickly approach A puddle of mud Small enough to step over But you thought it'd be fun To splish and splash And make a mess But it's dirtied your face And ruined your dress You stomp out of the puddle It has ruined your day You look back in anger And head on your way But what is to blame here, The action or trouble? The mud or the splashes? The person or puddle? Don't walk into mud Then complain of the mess If you want to stay clean Just watch where you step Not all, but many outcomes Are up to us So be careful that your actions Will lead to what you want
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
The Puddle
Why do people die, when they have something to live for? And why do people live, when they have something to die for? A woman dies whe she has children to live for, And a daughter lives when she has her brother to die for. The woman dies of illness, while her children wander homeless. The daughter lives in sorrow, because she could not save her brother's life. The woman lived in poverty, so she had no money for doctor or medicine. The daughter loved her brother, but it was not quite enough. Both outcomes are sad. The children live homeless. The daughter is depressed In the end, they die.
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Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 5:20 PM UTC
The Unfairness of Being
The Doctor has a Sense of Humor! <|> give a surgeon a scalpel and an excuse, and the artist emerges, for creativity is a good surgeon’s natural habitat Sure, sure, there’s a plan, with best and acceptable outcomes, but when messing with a real heart, a sly ***** with numerous deceptive guises at its disposal, you never for sure never know, despite all the advanced imaging techniques, exactly what you will find once you go spelunking in caves of life and death so, he takes a bit from here, and a bob or two from there, there a cut, here an incision deep, Old McDonald provided a body, or a canvas, and the Doc is happy. So I uncover holes where he probed, redeploying the healthy, like a good designer, Doc rearranges and repairs, a travelogue of splicing and dicing, his handiwork Now standing over you for many hours, can get tiring, though each ***** be different, unique even, but leaving a little marker, a stylized signature, is well, is the rightful discretion of the artiste! So you can imagine my surprise when the tubes removed (ouch!) the bandages ripped off in a signature move of a delighted nurse whose loves seeing grown men cry from lesser trivialities, you cannot imagine my surprise when I discovered my new tattoo, upon my chest front and center! *Herein please find your heart repaired, and revitalized: Please Note! We guarantee our work for minimum 15 years (Aug. 3, 2038), but our disclaimer we assume NO  responsibility after that if you should happen to live for 30 YEARS or more* Dr. P.
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Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 7:58 AM UTC
My Doctor has a Sense of Humor!
The Doctor has a Sense of Humor! <|> give a surgeon a scalpel and an excuse, and the artist emerges, for creativity is a good surgeon’s natural habitat Sure, sure, there’s a plan, with best and acceptable outcomes, but when messing with a real heart, a sly ***** with numerous deceptive guises at its disposal, you never for sure never know, despite all the advanced imaging techniques, exactly what you will find once you go spelunking in caves of life and death so, he takes a bit from here, and a bob or two from there, there a cut, here an incision deep, Old McDonald provided a body, or a canvas, and the Doc is happy. So I uncover holes where he probed, redeploying the healthy, like a good designer, Doc rearranges and repairs, a travelogue of splicing and dicing, his handiwork Now standing over you for many hours, can get tiring, though each ***** be different, unique even, but leaving a little marker, a stylized signature, is well, is the rightful discretion of the artiste! So you can imagine my surprise when the tubes removed (ouch!) the bandages ripped off in a signature move of a delighted nurse whose loves seeing grown men cry from lesser trivialities, you cannot imagine my surprise when I discovered my new tattoo, upon my chest front and center! *Herein please find your heart repaired, and revitalized: Please Note! We guarantee our work for minimum 15 years (Aug. 3, 2038), but our disclaimer we assume NO  responsibility after that if you should happen to live for 30 YEARS or more* Dr. P.
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51
%% It’s about leveraging potential income to enhance output-maximizing sustainability … It’s about de-funding unsustainable income outcomes. It’s about results-based data-enhanced paradigm shifts. It’s about demobilizing upward mobility: dis-empowering gentrification by underfunding the over-entitled. It’s about de-funding unsustainability until the immeasurable metric is globally assimilated. It’s about the designated data-driver. It’s about memes as theme schemes. It’s about complicating competence through collaboration in collusion – intentionally replicating re-branding – effectively identifying best practices of the best-dressed actresses until the girl in the t-shirt says “meh”.
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
Immeasurable Outcomes
I am tired. I am tired of not sleeping. Tired of trying to stay awake, because each time I try to sleep every bad thought and guilty feeling consumes my mind’s fatigue and internalises the stress into energy. My anxiety can keep my mind running all night long. I am tired of running without crossing any distance. Running without moving is an exercise my mind is too out of shape to survive. I’m tired of running away. Each step pounds the point home that I am a coward. Each pound pushes the earth down until it reaches the other-side, causing another step along the way. The eternal footrace soldiers on thanks to the anxiety engine. I’m tired of fear. Repetitive worry exhausts every other thought from existing, so fear becomes the constant state. I’m so fluent in fear that I twitch at every sound and grip at every surface. My mouth is so prepared to scream that simple phrases of love and compassion, or even pleasantries and common courtesy involve intense concentration to untie my tongue. I am tired of the silence. Silence from those who don’t have the seconds to spare to consider these issues, silence from the loved ones who refuse to understand, silence from the health professionals who seem to know more about pushing drugs then pushing information. I am tried of the silence I am shackled to by a condition that hides in thousands of names and symptoms. I am tired of crying. I am tired of being unable to control a torrent of pointless salt and shame every time I need to ask a question in a train station or a bank. Countless scenarios with incalculable varying outcomes drain me, I cannot prepare for technology to fail, for accidents, for unhinged passers by or the end of the world. I cannot prepare for anything. I cannot control anything. Not even tears. I am tired of not sleeping, I am tired of not waking, I am tired of running and running away, I am tired of crying, I am tired of caring, I am tired of dreaming, I am tired of trying… I am tired of being tired. So ******* tired.
0
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
Tired
I am tired. I am tired of not sleeping. Tired of trying to stay awake, because each time I try to sleep every bad thought and guilty feeling consumes my mind’s fatigue and internalises the stress into energy. My anxiety can keep my mind running all night long. I am tired of running without crossing any distance. Running without moving is an exercise my mind is too out of shape to survive. I’m tired of running away. Each step pounds the point home that I am a coward. Each pound pushes the earth down until it reaches the other-side, causing another step along the way. The eternal footrace soldiers on thanks to the anxiety engine. I’m tired of fear. Repetitive worry exhausts every other thought from existing, so fear becomes the constant state. I’m so fluent in fear that I twitch at every sound and grip at every surface. My mouth is so prepared to scream that simple phrases of love and compassion, or even pleasantries and common courtesy involve intense concentration to untie my tongue. I am tired of the silence. Silence from those who don’t have the seconds to spare to consider these issues, silence from the loved ones who refuse to understand, silence from the health professionals who seem to know more about pushing drugs then pushing information. I am tried of the silence I am shackled to by a condition that hides in thousands of names and symptoms. I am tired of crying. I am tired of being unable to control a torrent of pointless salt and shame every time I need to ask a question in a train station or a bank. Countless scenarios with incalculable varying outcomes drain me, I cannot prepare for technology to fail, for accidents, for unhinged passers by or the end of the world. I cannot prepare for anything. I cannot control anything. Not even tears. I am tired of not sleeping, I am tired of not waking, I am tired of running and running away, I am tired of crying, I am tired of caring, I am tired of dreaming, I am tired of trying… I am tired of being tired. So ******* tired.
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7
All along you've claimed I'm wrong, You've preached Karma's A true force For life. Then you're the one, There's no mistake, With Karma You re- Incarnate. Your next life Is rightly rife With all you Thought was missing: Eyes now green, or blue or two; Nose is small, or straight; Your clothes are cool, ripped and fitting; You'll have it all. Friends to rely on; Family to depend on. Money is no problem now, Your weight is couture right; Your teeth are straight and yours; Your hair has sheen, body, curl; It's straight and colour fast; Your skin is clear, white, black, brown or rainbow; Your mind is bright and not yet full. This time round Parents are happy With whom they've found. And your education Has opened doors Of possibilities to explore; And depression is no more. Your outlook Looks sure. But you're not into that. Vanity is no reward; Clearly that would be  insanity, Our present life's worth more. With Karma, There's no debate, Its outcomes choose Unknown dates And rules. We reap, We sell. We buy, We sew. One can't recall Previous lessons From former lives With life Regression. Just live your life In truth and justice, In the light, Or even darkness. For Karma will echo back With a knife-like strike To reverse good fortune In your afterlife; In your next life, But not in this life. Still, I think, You're hedging bets, Karma's not Been proven... yet. But just in case You might be right, I'll live life well. Enjoy this life.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Karma Now
the theory of entropy A doctrine of inevitable social decline and degeneration. or A single toss of a fair coin has an entropy of one bit. A series of two fair coin tosses has an entropy of two bits. The number of fair coin tosses is its entropy in bits. This random selection between two outcomes in a sequence over time, whether the outcomes are equally probable or not, is often referred to as a Bernoulli process. The entropy of such a process is given by the binary entropy function. The entropy rate for a fair coin toss is one bit per toss. However, if the coin is not fair, then the uncertainty, and hence the entropy rate, is lower. This is because, if asked to predict the next outcome, we could choose the most frequent result and be right more often than wrong. The difference between what we know, or predict, and the information that the unfair coin toss reveals to us is less than one heads-or-tails "message", or bit, per toss.[5] ~~~~~ **one bit per toss one love per life over time we entropy, degrade our physic, even our heart~need, tho ever burning, gives off less heat, as the candle aged-consumed, the eighth day canister of love oil, the sole remainder, slow level diminishes. we keep on tossing the coin, and with every failed love, the need, entropies, declines, the coin is worn down, making tails-you-lose the greater probability. but then all it probably takes, just another toss, and bit you are by the coin of the realm that-once-discovered, from her, this realm, this woman, you will never leave, nor coin-toss ever again*
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
For my beloved: The Theory of Entropy
the theory of entropy A doctrine of inevitable social decline and degeneration. or A single toss of a fair coin has an entropy of one bit. A series of two fair coin tosses has an entropy of two bits. The number of fair coin tosses is its entropy in bits. This random selection between two outcomes in a sequence over time, whether the outcomes are equally probable or not, is often referred to as a Bernoulli process. The entropy of such a process is given by the binary entropy function. The entropy rate for a fair coin toss is one bit per toss. However, if the coin is not fair, then the uncertainty, and hence the entropy rate, is lower. This is because, if asked to predict the next outcome, we could choose the most frequent result and be right more often than wrong. The difference between what we know, or predict, and the information that the unfair coin toss reveals to us is less than one heads-or-tails "message", or bit, per toss.[5] ~~~~~ **one bit per toss one love per life over time we entropy, degrade our physic, even our heart~need, tho ever burning, gives off less heat, as the candle aged-consumed, the eighth day canister of love oil, the sole remainder, slow level diminishes. we keep on tossing the coin, and with every failed love, the need, entropies, declines, the coin is worn down, making tails-you-lose the greater probability. but then all it probably takes, just another toss, and bit you are by the coin of the realm that-once-discovered, from her, this realm, this woman, you will never leave, nor coin-toss ever again*
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32
When you feel lost With no intention to be found again Because those who are looking Will lose you The moment they find you Yet you have to choose Between two tough options One in which the content is good But the context is bad And the other one vice versa Only that neither option In addition to their difficulties Have guaranteed outcomes When you are surrounded by people Who on top of your depression Make you feel more depressed And you can't do anything about them Because people change hard The guilt The internal rejection The misery The pressure And then you wonder What all that does to you Being constantly in struggle And not knowing When all this will stop Although you know it won't Because it is related to people And people change hard
0
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
A BRICK ON A HEART
At What Cost? This Purchase of Our Future *a thousand answers + variegated shadings, a summation: ∑ of millions layers of our owned chosen complexities, so many possible outcomes, it makes infinite randomness seemingly simpler than our googolplex crazy preposterous notational choosings, our owned decisions which though false, cause nothing is tandomn random except for love at first sight it’s all  just ******** we conditioned from pre-birth, the expectations subtly subsumed into the woman’s womb, overlaid by the ***** donors whisperings that you will be a great third baseman, or a great bass player, or both, but “your” fate, ha! is anything but yours… to purchase! if you were born to live in a home with no heat, and water was obtainable by walking 100 yards away, you would still be a pianist, writing notes of plaintive need, grand desires, musical words of agonizing delight just as when you first blushed when the brain connected yellow rays with a word, sunrise, and an experience was synapticaly imprinted, that real things could be defined by an ordering of letters and sounds and you were tongue burnt by a need so great to collect these pleasurable things and put them in a right order of your peculiar particular personal inherited inputted design = and you yet debate what is my instrument, knowing that the multiples of your fingers are the engine of your existence, and on any particular day they, your well connected perma-crew, will pick which is the chosen one, and no matter which, for you had nothing or little purchase, it was coded in your pre-history just as you prepare a transmission list of your own, when you daily first touch your face, closing the sensory sensual connection tween the ephemeral and the physical and the new combinations that you will imprint upon someone’s flesh, that is your right, that is you write, that is what you were predestined, to create but, (what the heck) you get to-pick the instrument of the day…* ( that, is your purchase, your only cost, everything else has been pre-paid )
0
Nov 9, 2023
Nov 9, 2023 at 8:54 AM UTC
At What Cost? This Purchase of Our Future...
At What Cost? This Purchase of Our Future *a thousand answers + variegated shadings, a summation: ∑ of millions layers of our owned chosen complexities, so many possible outcomes, it makes infinite randomness seemingly simpler than our googolplex crazy preposterous notational choosings, our owned decisions which though false, cause nothing is tandomn random except for love at first sight it’s all  just ******** we conditioned from pre-birth, the expectations subtly subsumed into the woman’s womb, overlaid by the ***** donors whisperings that you will be a great third baseman, or a great bass player, or both, but “your” fate, ha! is anything but yours… to purchase! if you were born to live in a home with no heat, and water was obtainable by walking 100 yards away, you would still be a pianist, writing notes of plaintive need, grand desires, musical words of agonizing delight just as when you first blushed when the brain connected yellow rays with a word, sunrise, and an experience was synapticaly imprinted, that real things could be defined by an ordering of letters and sounds and you were tongue burnt by a need so great to collect these pleasurable things and put them in a right order of your peculiar particular personal inherited inputted design = and you yet debate what is my instrument, knowing that the multiples of your fingers are the engine of your existence, and on any particular day they, your well connected perma-crew, will pick which is the chosen one, and no matter which, for you had nothing or little purchase, it was coded in your pre-history just as you prepare a transmission list of your own, when you daily first touch your face, closing the sensory sensual connection tween the ephemeral and the physical and the new combinations that you will imprint upon someone’s flesh, that is your right, that is you write, that is what you were predestined, to create but, (what the heck) you get to-pick the instrument of the day…* ( that, is your purchase, your only cost, everything else has been pre-paid )
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70
This morning I sat contemplating the wrinkled sheets of my night of restless slumber- I thought of the possibility behind contacting you and being denied or sitting here and believing in the multi-verse theory. When I was younger I took comfort in the thought of different worlds which equate to multiple plausible outcomes. I thought that if it rained here, out there, another me would enjoy a sunshine bliss. And so, by that logic, there is a universe in which you answer positively, negatively, one which we never met and another which we are together from the beginning. If so, does that mean this universe is the one of regret? I am staring at my undone bed fully aware it won't make itself, but I can't help and ponder that in another universe things once broken put themselves together. However, of action and inaction, of to be and not to be; this world demands and answer. Thus this morning I make my bed quite early and wait for a reaction.
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Of metaphors and unmade beds