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"outnumbers" poems
I’ve more love for you than the galaxy has stars, the place where heaven must lie. a vast eternity of beauty so unfathomable, only a fraction of souls seem to accept that one cannot understand it. likewise, you will never know just how much I love you. everything that makes you who you are makes me love you more. my love is as infinite as the universe, it goes as far as the east is from the west, forever. the dust of the stars are in your eyes, reflecting worlds you yearn for and of places so unearthly, so unimaginable. the longer I contemplate on my soul’s adoration for you, the only result I receive is a plethora of renewed love. a commitment to love you beyond the stars, push beyond the boundaries of what one can comprehend and give unconditionally. because my love for you is as timeless as infinity and it outnumbers the stars. and the universe is but a mere speck in comparison to all the love I have for you.
0
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
outnumbered (prose)
Spoken word. It ain't about rhymes sonnets Shakespeare, Dickenson, or Poe. It ain't about the iambic pentameter flow or the 5-7-5 of a haiku. It's about the heartbeat the pulse that courses through your very soul in a rhythm that is completely you. It is YOU that falls from trembling lips into the figurative and literal microphone before you; YOU who breathes life into words that would otherwise be considered scribbles on a page. It's an essence a way of being and beating the drum of your being that would otherwise have you hanging--- on tenterhooks, waiting for permission to raise your voice above the rest just so you can feel like you've got something to say. And child, you do. You got a story all your own a thunder that outnumbers the roar of the lions that are too busy with their 9 to 5 to stop and listen. So don't think you have to shout just to be heard but don't you whisper the words that mean so much but can seem so small. They ain't. Those words are your fists, balled up tightly and raised high in the air demanding the attention of anyone who will just listen. They strike again and again breaking the air and airwaves with a newfound beat so don't you think your fists are too small to mean something because child, they ain't. Raise your words high with that of your peers and chant them again and again like it's the last war cry that will ever be heard around the world your voice is strong. It echoes and shakes the earth to it's very core like a stampede so don't you stop don't you stay silent now just step up to the mic like this will be your legacy your last words to live by and the first words to make you reborn.
0
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:31 PM UTC
Definition.
Spoken word. It ain't about rhymes sonnets Shakespeare, Dickenson, or Poe. It ain't about the iambic pentameter flow or the 5-7-5 of a haiku. It's about the heartbeat the pulse that courses through your very soul in a rhythm that is completely you. It is YOU that falls from trembling lips into the figurative and literal microphone before you; YOU who breathes life into words that would otherwise be considered scribbles on a page. It's an essence a way of being and beating the drum of your being that would otherwise have you hanging--- on tenterhooks, waiting for permission to raise your voice above the rest just so you can feel like you've got something to say. And child, you do. You got a story all your own a thunder that outnumbers the roar of the lions that are too busy with their 9 to 5 to stop and listen. So don't think you have to shout just to be heard but don't you whisper the words that mean so much but can seem so small. They ain't. Those words are your fists, balled up tightly and raised high in the air demanding the attention of anyone who will just listen. They strike again and again breaking the air and airwaves with a newfound beat so don't you think your fists are too small to mean something because child, they ain't. Raise your words high with that of your peers and chant them again and again like it's the last war cry that will ever be heard around the world your voice is strong. It echoes and shakes the earth to it's very core like a stampede so don't you stop don't you stay silent now just step up to the mic like this will be your legacy your last words to live by and the first words to make you reborn.
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70
Hard times are everyday yet your smiles are so wide I pray to help everyday because your smiles help me you are brave because you smile you look at all of the good things in life instead of the bad even though the bad outnumbers the good most of the time I look around and see all of these people complain about there day when you smile and say the good things that happened in your day I wish everyone could look with your eyes because of your brave smiles and optimism I will smile, laugh, love, and spread happiness every day for you and because it is something that I would have no problem doing!
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Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 10:29 PM UTC
Smiles
Forest views Awaken at sunrise Piercing the clouds As the day is reborn Birds come to life In wild interaction Like a rainforest surrenders And tropics unwind Trees in transition Calming the spirit Relaxing the tension As sunrise begins Evergreen mem’ries Outlining the skyline Feasting on dewdrops Forever again Maple leaf forests Defining the landscape Perfection outnumbers The harbinger boughs As forest views remind us To open our daydreams To passion surrender Another day found 5/26/19 www.brucelevine.com https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1
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May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
Forest Views
A path I am on The one I was scared to be on The one that's a Frost's road Different as they call it The one i was taught about in class (For the sake of literature I think) Difference though is omnipresent (But for the sake of science i think) Difference is dangerous Prevented and taught to that But still so immense in me Running, I run fast from it Still those tiny ants Ride me and creep on my chest I slap and I recoil Not realizing they would bite Just afraid of a possibility Under influence of tales of history Where tragedy outnumbers celebration Difference that is lovely A dog or a pet I adore I embrace it on some units In cases it makes me revolt Against groups who think differently **** differently And I am proud to insult them Their inheritance of unevidenced values Suddenly, though, and mostly I hit headlights The dog bites my flesh I am short of arguments To support my difference I am short of theorems To prove what is right As I shake my peace flag Weak in doubts of my wrongfullness Difference leaves me alone I am disappointed I am disgusted By the different crowds More even by myself Difference leaves me alone Not always But when does It blows me down With contempt and longitude And i wither back to doubts Beginning like a shower Taking up, thunderstorm fashion That 'I must be wrong' Differents - hated by many Maybe because they think it is a disease Maybe it is going to convert them Maybe they'd feel isolated Left alone on a planet Where everyone is on a screen Screens might be too many And you lose your owness In that melancholy Maybe scared, The apparent parental foundations Blown down to dust, now they mean nothing The social cycles breaking apart Storms of worry corrode and perforate Your soul, I understand its difficult As I stand wet at the pavement Staring at my waterlogged road (I understand) I was born with this monster Feeding on my psyche Leaving me deficit Leaving me dumb It taking my advantage I taking its name When i have to name my life In one word No matter how much I tried shooing it away Putting up acts, masquerads It's impossible to let it go It is me, the difference And I feel like everyone is Only either I am too insistent For making my difference So significant Or I am a fool That can't get over itself Pk
0
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 5:15 PM UTC
-FROST'S ROADS-
A path I am on The one I was scared to be on The one that's a Frost's road Different as they call it The one i was taught about in class (For the sake of literature I think) Difference though is omnipresent (But for the sake of science i think) Difference is dangerous Prevented and taught to that But still so immense in me Running, I run fast from it Still those tiny ants Ride me and creep on my chest I slap and I recoil Not realizing they would bite Just afraid of a possibility Under influence of tales of history Where tragedy outnumbers celebration Difference that is lovely A dog or a pet I adore I embrace it on some units In cases it makes me revolt Against groups who think differently **** differently And I am proud to insult them Their inheritance of unevidenced values Suddenly, though, and mostly I hit headlights The dog bites my flesh I am short of arguments To support my difference I am short of theorems To prove what is right As I shake my peace flag Weak in doubts of my wrongfullness Difference leaves me alone I am disappointed I am disgusted By the different crowds More even by myself Difference leaves me alone Not always But when does It blows me down With contempt and longitude And i wither back to doubts Beginning like a shower Taking up, thunderstorm fashion That 'I must be wrong' Differents - hated by many Maybe because they think it is a disease Maybe it is going to convert them Maybe they'd feel isolated Left alone on a planet Where everyone is on a screen Screens might be too many And you lose your owness In that melancholy Maybe scared, The apparent parental foundations Blown down to dust, now they mean nothing The social cycles breaking apart Storms of worry corrode and perforate Your soul, I understand its difficult As I stand wet at the pavement Staring at my waterlogged road (I understand) I was born with this monster Feeding on my psyche Leaving me deficit Leaving me dumb It taking my advantage I taking its name When i have to name my life In one word No matter how much I tried shooing it away Putting up acts, masquerads It's impossible to let it go It is me, the difference And I feel like everyone is Only either I am too insistent For making my difference So significant Or I am a fool That can't get over itself Pk
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90
Blood, blood, blood Drips the colour red They who have killed all gods Save themselves Drowns the masses in silent waves Those who do not mourn the loss But give thunderous applause To the slaughter of themselves Those who are free in body Are chained in mind Yet know nothing of their shackles They Shoutout Glory! glory! Glory! While they themselves are slaughtered. Their blood fills the streets For the colour red still reigns And ignorance remains. They who have killed God Worship themselves. While others do the same, And shout out Death! Death! Death! This beast they have tried to tame Only grows. Though still the red river flows. Now the beast outnumbers them But they themselves do not know that they are the only monsters And the beast is innocent of blood. Torn apart yet still growing They cannot stop the beast. For it is good and they are evil. The beast primeval. They who shout out Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! Have turned the prayers into prey. And kneel before new gods For the one killed for them They refuse to serve Driven by lust And void of trust. Now they have come to the final place Their river has become an ocean The prayers are slain And the colour red reigns.
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May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
The Colour Red.