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"outran" poems
The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears: Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up The still-defended challenge-cup. And round that early-laurelled head Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl's.
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To An Athlete Dying Young
I took a walk today and listened to the birds choking on the smog, broke my mother's back with every step and outran a stray dog. I picked you a bouquet of dandelions from the field because flowers can't grow when the sun's always concealed. I put them in a vase and filled it with water from the tap they died within an hour, now I know for sure you won't come back. I always swore I'd never own a broken home but it's hard not to when the only one's who stay are the garden gnomes — but someone's been smashing them in the middle of the night, or maybe they're blowing out their brains to escape my company and the blight. There's no magic left in this city, so chronically gray storms are always passing though and the rainbows are too scared to stay... I wanted to run away with you from the hood and past the burbs to somewhere where the air is clean and filled with singing birds. But instead I'm stuck here on this couch, microwaving Ramen while I search for words.
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
Rhyme for Detroit
The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears: Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up The still-defended challenge-cup. And round that early-laurelled head And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl's.
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A Shropshire Lad XIX: The time you won your town the race
The Ace of Spades Queen of Hearts Deuce of Diamonds It's just the start Can't turn the corner Can't double down Out of money No bank around I need that card Need it like a drug But odds are against me It doesn't look good I outran them all But they got me again Tried to talk my way out But I tried in vain No way to get out Stuck in this spot Left me with cards Said play until I rot The Ace of Spades Queen of Hearts I played my cards wrong And they tore me apart
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Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 3:07 AM UTC
Gambling Man's Fate
I ran from love afraid to get hurt but it outran me, tripped me up, and broke my legs. Will you teach me, how to walk again?
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Broken legs
i didn't say a word. the laughter was wrapping tight about my neck. two ex-girls were blushing, my glance ricocheted off, then landed on my clasped hands. i wasn't in charge of the party. i only lived where it took place. nobody had any alcohol, everybody drank coffee or redbull; talked with foreign class. i wasn't in charge of the music. i only owned the stereo system. so we listened to some pop-punkshit. i started storing excuses, in case someone asked me to dance. the boys were all grinning. the boys were all christians, while they hunted their prey. the girls were all grinning. the girls were all christians, while they still ran free. i played priest. kept my *** on the couch, swore celibacy with every fired neuron. lauren was gone, and amie threw a party. she invited an army of ******** dressed exs just to remind me i hadn't outran my guilt. the laughter started to wane, people looked to me to stir the conversation. i didn't say a word. i didn't breathe. the weight of the room was too heavy for me. i cut myself from the stares, someone asked where i was going, my feet kept moving until carpet was traded for concrete was traded for gas pedal was traded for anywhere distant.
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Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 11:46 AM UTC
amie's torture party
Veins of leafy plants creeping and Peeping from the cracks in the wall of stone As the koyal sat regally and chirped On its wooden branch of a throne Out in the veranda sitting Cross legged as you tugged My messy long tresses with coconut oil And made that wretched braid I loathed The smell of ripe mangoes lingered In the summer air and starry night As I lay on my back on the folding bed-which was as ancient as my grandma- And tried to decipher those stars in all my childlike might Running barefoot in the haveli corridors Built in that old colonial style Chasing you as you outran me in your sarree Almost as if I was chasing my dreams I remember the playful teasing As you became a child with me I also picture grandma's white haired bun And the flyaway hair coming loose as she chased after me I remember those lazy peaceful afternoons When dreams exceeded reality It was a droning hum of a life I miss it all so dearly So whenever I want to go back to you, mum To visit those summer glows I just close my eyes and think of that haveli And once again I smell the mangoes
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
Summers with my mother
I look upon a hillside green, A cow takes water from a stream, A fox in play handsome and lean, upon this hillside emerald green, Though… Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream. A breeze picks up to push the grass, in great long sweeps I see it pass, The sun is high a molten mass, resembling gold or polished brass, Yet… Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream. And to the stream a shepherd lad, shoulders low and poorly clad, Made his way, though face was sad, for three small sheep were all he had, Alas… Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream. And from the south a minstrel gay, dressed in scarlet white and grey, Comes skipping toward the stream to stay, beneath a tree I see him lay, A merry tune begins to play, And still… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. Then ore the hill comes charging quick, a band of goblins armor thick, And in their hand an iron pick, the sons of light they mean to STICK! But no… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. The shepherd lad a warning cries, before the pick removes his eyes, The minstrel flees, at least he tries, but goblin chief of massive size, Outran the man who screaming dies! Yet still… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. The sheep are taken as a snack, the cow is butchered, carried back, The fox has fled for all are dead, the stream once clear runs ruby red! And yes… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. Now as I gaze, all seams so still, nothing moves nor ever will, For goblins bear the urge to **** now crimson stains the emerald hill…
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Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
A Goblin Raid
I look upon a hillside green, A cow takes water from a stream, A fox in play handsome and lean, upon this hillside emerald green, Though… Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream. A breeze picks up to push the grass, in great long sweeps I see it pass, The sun is high a molten mass, resembling gold or polished brass, Yet… Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream. And to the stream a shepherd lad, shoulders low and poorly clad, Made his way, though face was sad, for three small sheep were all he had, Alas… Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream. And from the south a minstrel gay, dressed in scarlet white and grey, Comes skipping toward the stream to stay, beneath a tree I see him lay, A merry tune begins to play, And still… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. Then ore the hill comes charging quick, a band of goblins armor thick, And in their hand an iron pick, the sons of light they mean to STICK! But no… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. The shepherd lad a warning cries, before the pick removes his eyes, The minstrel flees, at least he tries, but goblin chief of massive size, Outran the man who screaming dies! Yet still… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. The sheep are taken as a snack, the cow is butchered, carried back, The fox has fled for all are dead, the stream once clear runs ruby red! And yes… Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream. Now as I gaze, all seams so still, nothing moves nor ever will, For goblins bear the urge to **** now crimson stains the emerald hill…
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32
Heart-affluence in discursive talk From household fountains never dry; The critic clearness of an eye, That saw thro' all the Muses' walk; Seraphic intellect and force To seize and throw the doubts of man; Impassion'd logic, which outran The hearer in its fiery course; High nature amorous of the good, But touch'd with no ascetic gloom; And passion pure in snowy bloom Thro' all the years of April blood; A love of freedom rarely felt, Of freedom in her regal seat Of England; not the schoolboy heat, The blind hysterics of the Celt; And manhood fused with female grace In such a sort, the child would twine A trustful hand, unask'd, in thine, And find his comfort in thy face; All these have been, and thee mine eyes Have look'd on: if they look'd in vain, My shame is greater who remain, Nor let thy wisdom make me wise.
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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 109
Hello again. Oh god, not you. Me, but does it matter. Do you still care? No. Walk with me, lend me your thought. Very well. I am born again and you feel the same as past days. I do. Vulnerability is a new form of life. For you. And you are scared again. And you are with me. Does it frighten you, how far you've come? Yes, where has time gone? Into me, I am always with you. My one friend, Together Together. Shall we sink as one? Of course. How many days lost into your huddled fear? Enough to make me strong. And you are here to tell me all is lost? I am here to offer you that choice. I don't want it. I have come too far for you, I have grown too tall, seen too much, outran you more times than you let on, you are no longer a match for me. Do you feel brave? You know I don't, ever, But I feel ready. **You will need me When you lose all And truth is laid bare You will need me And I will be here To **** you in To steal you back, Mine, My very own** Property.
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
A Talk with My More Vulnerable Side
Greatest Cop In Town (LOL) Well crap, he outran me But, I wear thirty extra pounds I  think I'll just say that Because Im supposed to run him down I yelled one time for him to stop But, he ran like a gazelle He jumped a fence with no hands My gun belt slowed me down I wear boots not made for running He had Jordan sneakers on He must not of heard my orders I think my siren drowned the sound He sized me up so quickly I could see it in his eyes I think he saw my anger Or, the jelly donut at my side I may have heard him laughing But not once did he look back He thought that he would get away Because he ran so very fast Now I know that I will find him And he'll be easy to be found I'll place his name on my business cards And leave them all around I'll write a dollar number very high Note that he was a great help His friends will be so happy Or they will beat him straight to hell He'll tell them that he did not talk Say he ran like a gazelle But no one will believe him Because I'm the greatest cop in this town Carl J. Roberts
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:17 PM UTC
Greatest Cop In Town (LOL)
The doe ran across the road and I had to catch my startled breaths. The doe ran across the road and a car swerved, successfully. The doe ran and looked at my face for fifteen seconds (or more...or less). The doe ran across the road and jumped so high and landed amongst a small bunch of trees. The doe outran me. I was on my bicycle that day. The doe ran five miles per hour. Every hour. The doe ran while I climbed wooden staircases. The doe ran after she acknowledged my presence, and I acknowledged hers. The doe ran because she was afraid I would hurt her (why would I hurt her? for food). The doe ran away afraid and I was secretly afraid--don’t mention this to my Nature friends--that the doe did not hurt me. The doe ran away from the other does because of overpopulation. The doe ran. I want to run with the doe, or on the doe. The doe ran across the road a lot every day.
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
The doe ran across the road (take 2)
Don't worry,the world is not a monster, Though it bares its fangs on you first-time, Tomorrow it shall be tainted with no crime, And happiness shall be like a sister! Don't worry,whenever you worry,tensions hurry, Luck is outran,outdone,ladyluck is gone! Just let the moon guide you through this zone And tomorrow you shall on your way to glory! Don't worry,don't you worry,my friend, The bold are gone but it's not the end. History is made,but mystery lies much in your tarry. In the begginning it's all a blur and it's so scary, Light is not shed in the tunnel And easy pathways,only lead to hell! Don't worry,pity is in your eyes. Don't worry,my friend,stand and rise!
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Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
Don't Worry
I woke beside a pitch black crust like the dust permeating veins. I sat upon colidascope concrete until morning brought birds to carry my neck back to you. I collapsed onto the shore and cried all night because I finally outran my shadow and the seaside refused to share. I pounded my fists into the sockets holding your eyes. They're missing, stolen perhaps by another set of cheekbones. I scraped the sky with nails like coal, leaving streaks of blood across east Ohio. I sat on the ceiling as the fingertips of July stretched my mind away from fire. Does she rub your shoulders? I hope she does. I really do.
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
Kumran
I met him standing In the middle of the lane, awaiting For some silhouettes, apparently, For he Was gazing through the haze Enveloping the ground of this intricate maze, Amidst eternities of both The one behind us and the one of forth Acquaintance; peevishly there hotching On his place, like pole earthshaking Though with not a-lack of grace This little figure strangèly reminded Of my own wraiths I thought was far behind me; but never did they leave my soul’s abode, No matter whether home I or abroad I always carry them like plummet on a chain With which all a-way down and down upcoming drowner fane, Just like pale moon is setting to its further sleep The same way future drowner does complete The full life circle of eternal plan, The one which you could not outran In vacuous attempt to fool the time In game that has been riggéd before thine Name and surname were inscribed in list Of papyrus and lost in spaceless mist
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Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 12:11 AM UTC
A silhouette in the mist
Dance My lady of doom Show me how to Walk Away from the sun As I outrun the day I'm running out of solutions You gave Still you would dance Unto the sound of my name But I outran the grave Take take my life Lady of light Oh show me how So we may Break through the night Lover so bright Oh keep me sound Wonderer leading the way Grace Mine haunting became Who walks in the garden Maybe you My lady of doom Dressed in my eulogy No distant sense of illusion will save My face a painting, a slave It's canvass I burned Oh oh I outran the grave Take take the days oh please take me Lady leading the way Oh show me how Don't waste duration After facing the day Just maybe to save Me by you name I have outran the grave Oh lady of light Break through the night Ascend beyond mourning   Travel not blindly the garden waits to be burned My lady of light out run with me kindly Only In knowing that life is solemnly earned
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
"Lady Of Light"
Perhaps in moving forward I outran time, and left years dying in my mentality. Years of living in a dependent way, and not making choices. The years that made words easier to say, and friends easier to make. They were lost upon me in solitude. I was left in books and knowledge for too long a time. Words in a book will state what people want, but words on a page speak volumes. The poems we all wrote in those ages of contempt. They milked the venom in our veins to make it so we couldn't **** Though I never wrote then, and I didn't show the venom I felt it. What most call hate was apparent in me at a much younger age. Though I know it wasn't hate, but I didn't then. Contempt or disdain is how I'd refer to it now. She was the only person who I could feel it towards, and I am no better for that. She gave me life, and I still can't stand the relation. I bit my tongue as she tried to buy me, work me, and what she'd call care for me. This not nor will be a person I can in my right mind, call anything positive. I couldn't stay in a place where the voice of authority was more a child than me. I have trouble with acknowledging her as who she is to me. I was given a fire that nearly burned her away, and though I am not proud of it. I would have just watched the fire with the same eyes I have now. People cool me down though, those people called friends. They spoke of understanding rather than disgust, though confusion was there. How could one burn someone so close, and how can they just talk about it? It concerns some and scares most, but some know why I burned.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Lore of Apathy (Past)
Perhaps in moving forward I outran time, and left years dying in my mentality. Years of living in a dependent way, and not making choices. The years that made words easier to say, and friends easier to make. They were lost upon me in solitude. I was left in books and knowledge for too long a time. Words in a book will state what people want, but words on a page speak volumes. The poems we all wrote in those ages of contempt. They milked the venom in our veins to make it so we couldn't **** Though I never wrote then, and I didn't show the venom I felt it. What most call hate was apparent in me at a much younger age. Though I know it wasn't hate, but I didn't then. Contempt or disdain is how I'd refer to it now. She was the only person who I could feel it towards, and I am no better for that. She gave me life, and I still can't stand the relation. I bit my tongue as she tried to buy me, work me, and what she'd call care for me. This not nor will be a person I can in my right mind, call anything positive. I couldn't stay in a place where the voice of authority was more a child than me. I have trouble with acknowledging her as who she is to me. I was given a fire that nearly burned her away, and though I am not proud of it. I would have just watched the fire with the same eyes I have now. People cool me down though, those people called friends. They spoke of understanding rather than disgust, though confusion was there. How could one burn someone so close, and how can they just talk about it? It concerns some and scares most, but some know why I burned.
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24
Please hold onto me Nana, Hold on as long as you can. I know it must be hard to trust me, Since you don’t know who I am. I want to help you remember, However I am afraid it’s gone too far. But I remember everything for us both, From pinched cheeks to trips in the car. You taught me how to be strong, But right now I am not. In a wide world full of people, You’re really all I’ve got. It’s hard to comes with, As physically there’s nothing wrong. Nana, it’s your mind that’s left us, I fear it won’t come along. We’ve got so much left to do, I have so much left to say. I wish I could protect you from the fog, But it’s impossible for this to go my way. Death hasn’t taken your body Nana, He has kidnapped your memories. He is cruel and unjustified, I promise he’s making some enemies. Please hold onto me Nana, Hold on as long as you can. I will love you forever and always, But time is never outran.
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Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 5:36 PM UTC
Please Hold Onto Me
All the things I wanted to say to you Have turned to fading memories. And there’s nothing left I can do To rewind these quiet miseries. This isn’t what I wished for— Your light dimmed, Then outran mine before. But I already missed the boat, Fate tore through vows I never wrote. At least come to me in dreams— In my sleep, or drifting through day beams. Don’t bring in the noise of reality, Let this world be just you and me. We’ll hang ornaments on fading daffodils, I won’t wake if the silence fills. If you’re a lie, let me stay within it, I'll cross every tie just to relive a minute. So please—don’t wake me up. Let me swing inside this make-believe rhyme. Not just for now... Because at least in this world, You’re finally mine.
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Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 4:46 PM UTC
Don't Wake Me Up Yet
When last we laughed I was flush to your bluff By necessity and nature Joyful unto sky of gray Comprehension is pain Outran it far as possible Truth is a rock, but they Mapped it for me; ephemeral Delicate as a piece of ancient Poesy. No rosy-fingered dawn, Nothing to write home about.              * d * You can’t get far on a sick nag Fresh water, strong mind On a narrow road, endless Desert ahead Where is your Masala? Your final stand? Don’t be some dead girl             * a * Let them win, there lies strength If you can shut down need You can win a life             * d * Just how far I went I’m not Sure. Still finding castoffs Pieces of salvage I can use now Flush with hope, I can eat again I can truly laugh You were the one who once laughed best Silly as loons we were, so maybe we could be still Possibility runs rampant Through me Shivering wet and wild "Birds can't unchain from skyway" You said that, remember, But what if weighted regret Claims us in this journey Suddenly, so privately A moment of recognition Pure, behind our eyes Right where I keep you Where it's always you, Pop Fully recognized, armored up Tenderly on display to Such hungry world
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Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
fly to me, pop *Under Construction*
At my best, I'll dance with my shadow, try to outran it, hide from the one thing I can't lose my gloomy companion without a voice.
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Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
Gloomy companion
I lost the losers, I healed from those bruisers, I outran those pursuers, I won you, I dodged the bad luck, I jumped over the hurdles, I smashed through those barriers, I won you, I turned my back on those who turned from me, I stepped up to my attackers, Looked into the eyes of my abusers, I won you, I lost myself in drugs and alcohol, I cried through my tears, I sobered myself, I have been clean for some years, I won you, I laughed at bad jokes, Avoided the smoke, I treated myself better, I won you.
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Jun 2, 2022
Jun 2, 2022 at 8:02 AM UTC
I won you