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"outpaced" poems
Never should I love, For never will you love me. Never will your deep, blue eyes Look in mine and read my mind, Like a psychic running her fingers along the lines of my palms. Palms that belong to hands you’ll never hold, And handle with care like you would antique china And at the same time grip with a firmness that tells me you’ll never let go. You’ll never let go because you’ll never wrap your soft, warm arms around me in the first place. Your soul will never entangle with mine and fill that void Left by a **** sliced deep within me. A **** left by my father’s youth, And my mother’s faith, Whose knife cut out their acceptance for me And gouged out my trust in them. Can’t you see that you are the antidote to my lifelong suffering? The Accutane to my welted face, The braces to my crooked teeth, The nitro to my aching heart The rhino to my bulging nose The morphine to my broken mind, The running to my fading health Running, running, running away Far away from this broken house Where your dreams never do come true and Where you come out to yourself alone in the bathroom and Where they can’t ever know the truth because my house is Where God resides in the attic and Where Jesus is the only one you should let in your room at night and Where The Holy Spirit has possessed us all to live a lie because my house is Where lifelong love is dead at the delivery room And who is there to blame but me? Who is there to blame but me? But none of that matters to you. It can’t matter to you, Because all you do is love And love And love And love And love. But you never love me. Each year I have known you I have reached out farther than the last, Yearning for something I could never obtain. Fifteen pushes past Fourteen, Both of whom fall short of Sixteen’s growing arms, Which are narrowly outpaced by Seventeen’s spindly, wirey fingertips. Every Year’s efforts have met the same fate; Failing to reach their target they instead grasp fruitlessly Into a dark, brewing storm, Full of tears, And of crackling sparks of hope That are met with the resounding booms of fate Telling me that I am doomed to be alone. Telling me that never should I love, For never will you love me. But I never listen. Because I know you too well. And I know that someday, Someday soon, You’ll make the happy accident Of stepping too close to my many straining hands, And I’ll pull you near to me And you’ll realize that you never loved her at all. And that you always, always have loved me. -The Boy Who Loves You Too
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Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
To the Boy Who Won't Love Me:
Never should I love, For never will you love me. Never will your deep, blue eyes Look in mine and read my mind, Like a psychic running her fingers along the lines of my palms. Palms that belong to hands you’ll never hold, And handle with care like you would antique china And at the same time grip with a firmness that tells me you’ll never let go. You’ll never let go because you’ll never wrap your soft, warm arms around me in the first place. Your soul will never entangle with mine and fill that void Left by a **** sliced deep within me. A **** left by my father’s youth, And my mother’s faith, Whose knife cut out their acceptance for me And gouged out my trust in them. Can’t you see that you are the antidote to my lifelong suffering? The Accutane to my welted face, The braces to my crooked teeth, The nitro to my aching heart The rhino to my bulging nose The morphine to my broken mind, The running to my fading health Running, running, running away Far away from this broken house Where your dreams never do come true and Where you come out to yourself alone in the bathroom and Where they can’t ever know the truth because my house is Where God resides in the attic and Where Jesus is the only one you should let in your room at night and Where The Holy Spirit has possessed us all to live a lie because my house is Where lifelong love is dead at the delivery room And who is there to blame but me? Who is there to blame but me? But none of that matters to you. It can’t matter to you, Because all you do is love And love And love And love And love. But you never love me. Each year I have known you I have reached out farther than the last, Yearning for something I could never obtain. Fifteen pushes past Fourteen, Both of whom fall short of Sixteen’s growing arms, Which are narrowly outpaced by Seventeen’s spindly, wirey fingertips. Every Year’s efforts have met the same fate; Failing to reach their target they instead grasp fruitlessly Into a dark, brewing storm, Full of tears, And of crackling sparks of hope That are met with the resounding booms of fate Telling me that I am doomed to be alone. Telling me that never should I love, For never will you love me. But I never listen. Because I know you too well. And I know that someday, Someday soon, You’ll make the happy accident Of stepping too close to my many straining hands, And I’ll pull you near to me And you’ll realize that you never loved her at all. And that you always, always have loved me. -The Boy Who Loves You Too
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68
In my mind, I raced against time I smoked peyote with the Apache I chased Kangaroos Through the bush with the Aborigine All the while ...I searched for the power within me In my mind, I outpaced time I drew cave art with the Neanderthal I climbed to the top of the mountain with the Sherpa I hunted seal out on the frozen tundra with the Inuit All the while ...I searched for the power within me In my mind, I eclipsed time I wrote poetry while under the tutelage of Langston Hughes And I created visual greatness while apprentice to Gordon Parks I even stood on the wall with Che' Guevara, like a Sentry standing watch All the while ...I continued searching for the power within me In my mind, I turned to face time I wrote an addendum to the Emancipation Proclamation And I saw the ugly truths Of freedom's farcical Declaration All the while ...I continued searching for the power within me In my mind, I embraced time I sought to free my nation from the pandemic perils of ******* And I prayed that we Americans would be free of The snares of racial and economic divide that still has us chained I did this while searching for truth, in this, our most tenuous hour ...then empyreally, God reached for me, touching me, and I finally found my power * Reprinted from 'Exegesis a Decade of Poetry by Mekael' © July 14, 2009 by Mekael Shane
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
My Power
Her ugly salmon sneakers hang by ratty shoelaces when she takes them from the vendor. I tell her to toss them lest she get a disease from her gross salmon sneakers. Her garish salmon sneakers pitter-patter gladly, mocking me and staying forever. She says she won’t ever buy another pair since she’s got her salmon sneakers. Her silly salmon sneakers stay on even through our reception, our vows, and our wedding. Though I do finally get them off that same night, her wondrous salmon sneakers. Her busted salmon sneakers trip her up before she steps in front of a speeding driver. As I scold her, I don’t even think I’m grateful to her old salmon sneakers. Her galling salmon sneakers always stay two steps ahead of me and everyone she knows. If only they outpaced the ones she didn’t know, her ******* salmon sneakers. Her stupid salmon sneakers never grace her feet again, and I know she’d have hated that. I don’t care because that’s all I have left of her, her ****** salmon sneakers. Her dreary salmon sneakers seem so lifeless without her because she was what gave them life. And I wish with all that’s left that she was there, not her hollow salmon sneakers.
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Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
Her Hollow Salmon Sneakers
Struck with the realization of existentialism. Found the secret to the universe. Found the cosmic codex then erased it. Struck with the sudden fury of a divine messenger. Understood the duality of good and evil. Recorded the universe of knowledge then misplaced it. Struck with a wave of indecision. Solved theoretical physicists struggle with time travel. Caught the speed of light and then outpaced it. Struck with the spear of a fallen angel. Found the devil in my dreams. Became his nightmare and replaced it.
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Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 2:16 PM UTC
Light Years
Polka dots tumbled from your dress Settled To mirror                            Constellation Andromeda                                      Far from home Your attire Changed character Became lost in surroundings               That didn't ask you to leave   Gravity changed Clouds were contained        Moon was outpaced by the sun
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Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 5:08 AM UTC
Polka Dots Are Planets
watching the sunrise surprise me in the evening i can't evening; realize potentially what personifies you or your taste upbeat and outpaced we meet and i faced just 5 feet google street- view i felt at home then i knew i yearn to roam outside of pixels confined his wide grin as if was designed to remind me love will find me *** can't can't can't important out conformist rant erased wry pant replaced i grant we chased, we chant prefaced, we shan't displace on slant onslought instant distraught recant enchant wrought on our rotten re-plant of an antic talking frantic infrared entranced romantic instead transcended semantic exalted assaulted tantric talk sick balk pick stalk trick **** quick lock click shock strik flock thick block brick rock stick walk kick stall tick
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
2%
a splitting headache accompanied by saline raindrops are more common now as the hours drag by.                                                  it's just one quick packet                                                  you have a week for this the expectation of perfection is absolute, as evidenced by how easy it is to lose the faith of those once close.                                                  I didn't want to bother you                                                  that was quite unexpected the desire to be good enough for what little is received is outpaced only by the desire to rest for just a moment.                                                  stop goofing off so much                                                  lights out early tonight, ok only through perseverance can one be successful but only through failure can one know the value of success.                                                  calm down and walk away                                                  in my own mind, even, I am lost even in death we are unsafe as the days go by with nary a memory of all the jumble studied and fought in life.                                                  there's always a choice                                                  nothing about it can be helped
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Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Stuff People Say
a splitting headache accompanied by saline raindrops are more common now as the hours drag by.                                                  it's just one quick packet                                                  you have a week for this the expectation of perfection is absolute, as evidenced by how easy it is to lose the faith of those once close.                                                  I didn't want to bother you                                                  that was quite unexpected the desire to be good enough for what little is received is outpaced only by the desire to rest for just a moment.                                                  stop goofing off so much                                                  lights out early tonight, ok only through perseverance can one be successful but only through failure can one know the value of success.                                                  calm down and walk away                                                  in my own mind, even, I am lost even in death we are unsafe as the days go by with nary a memory of all the jumble studied and fought in life.                                                  there's always a choice                                                  nothing about it can be helped
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30
I would like to take a trip, but the only bags I own Are the ones weighing down my eyes My feet long to set out, but They are often outpaced by my mind My body doesn’t move an inch because the nerve Has crawled up from out my spine The eyes blink to signal I’m alive, but behind those oval blinds An echo You’ll be fine
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Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 12:45 AM UTC
Bags
I’ve got a bad case of the human race, rusted metal morons rummaging on my spinning grace. This is my place and I share it with a lot of other animals who are not equipped to ravage or destroy it. So, this pox of polluters natural resource abusers and horrible drug users needs to be reined in. Though, I tried to maintain adequate equilibrium, yes, I tried to sustain all the creature living in my local ecosystems, mankind really did a number on my **** ****** up my climate and the tools I used to balance out the abuse, like resource scarcity; Well, humanity has outpaced my ability to hold them back by creating mass producing assembly line technologies, and unhealthily enhanced agriculture. So, it is highly likely all the other species and human beings will be exiting the scene much earlier then I previously projected
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Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
Untitled 301
I surrounded you with feathers in a steel furnace I singed my wistful wings trying to save us I gave up I spread my willow wings trying to save me The only power I have, I gave me I'm not worshiping your phallus anymore I'm no longer a ***** I outpaced that kind of fun It was a long distance run You're remnants from that prism Stilettos dipped in gum Don't leave any cash on the table Give it to the Sun
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Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 7:51 PM UTC
Gum on my stilettos