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"outreach" poems
Congratulations You went to church but did you pay attention? or were you focused more on bright screams Congratulations You read your bible but when do you plan on listening to it Congratulations You're going to an outreach on Saturday but what did you do Friday night? Congratulations You're a Christian You are adding onto the stereotype of Fake Christians Stop telling people to not be lukewarm and To live for God full out When You Yourself Are the problem
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
Congratulations Christian
The old order changeth, yielding place to new -Tennyson, Idylls of the King Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp In spasms of existential death; they pass At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there If you vote they give you a sticker The ephemeral Constitution changed Like sweaty skivvies by each president Law libraries catalogued for pulp By obedient functionaries in tees If you vote they give you a sticker The faithful escorted out of the cathedral By a bored security guard on overtime The altar linens for sale at Goodwill And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V. If you vote they give you a sticker Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds And the others cheer only for the Blues As the reincarnation of Jack Chick Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps If you vote they give you a sticker Election placards on abandoned buildings Promise again prosperity for all The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz Private Academy of the Dance and Math If you vote they give you a sticker An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather If you vote they give you a sticker And blessed be the Holy AR-15 God gave to His People to defend themselves Here in the freest country in the world Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence If you vote they give you a sticker While fleets of luxury presidential jets Arc high over our public housing projects Reminding us of our prosperity Here in the richest country in the world If you vote they give you a sticker And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right But them other Jews they just ain’t no good Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither And don’t you get me started on them Baptists (We seem to have been otherwise engaged) “The old order changeth, yielding place to new” – (But neither cares at all for me or you) But if you vote they give you a sticker
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Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Election Day: Executive Inaction with Moderate Prejudice in Fits of Absent-Mindedness
The old order changeth, yielding place to new -Tennyson, Idylls of the King Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp In spasms of existential death; they pass At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there If you vote they give you a sticker The ephemeral Constitution changed Like sweaty skivvies by each president Law libraries catalogued for pulp By obedient functionaries in tees If you vote they give you a sticker The faithful escorted out of the cathedral By a bored security guard on overtime The altar linens for sale at Goodwill And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V. If you vote they give you a sticker Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds And the others cheer only for the Blues As the reincarnation of Jack Chick Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps If you vote they give you a sticker Election placards on abandoned buildings Promise again prosperity for all The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz Private Academy of the Dance and Math If you vote they give you a sticker An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather If you vote they give you a sticker And blessed be the Holy AR-15 God gave to His People to defend themselves Here in the freest country in the world Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence If you vote they give you a sticker While fleets of luxury presidential jets Arc high over our public housing projects Reminding us of our prosperity Here in the richest country in the world If you vote they give you a sticker And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right But them other Jews they just ain’t no good Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither And don’t you get me started on them Baptists (We seem to have been otherwise engaged) “The old order changeth, yielding place to new” – (But neither cares at all for me or you) But if you vote they give you a sticker
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Today Its bright and sunny Not same The last 3 days . A relative , passing away Never whom I met A pall of gloom, yet . Today Husband would be back from tour A day before Stuck he was in the heavy downpour And flooded Mumbai roads . My heart sank, Reminded of the deluge Year 2005, July 26th And Stuck he was in a similar situation Residents of Mumbai, then we were. A Day before He had a long day ahead Asked the driver to leave Only to return by evening . The driver with no return route And The hotel a few Kms away Not a single Ola Uber Around the corner Added to the bother. A good 40 minutes walk In waist high water Followed by a bus ride Hotel ,he managed to reach . And hopefully , The Mumbaikars to their homes Who waded along Helping each other in the murky waters. Yes 'The SPIRIT Of MUMBAI' Not to be missed Come Rains or Terrorists Mumbaikars with help , do outreach.
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Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC
The Spirit Of Mumbai
Drinking is a problem, for some it’s worse than others. Within each family everyone is affected, parents, sisters and brothers. That doesn’t mean you turn your back and disown them from their home, And make them wander dark cold streets, they are out there all alone. The choices that they made may not have been the best, But now they face the wind and rain, just wanting a place to rest. A place where they can get a meal, some shelter and a chat. They are human after all; they deserve at least all that. The basic needs of society we sometimes don’t address, And see these people on the streets and treat them as something less. Have we suddenly forgotten the values that we teach? It’s to these people that we should care and to them our hands outreach. To help them back upon their journey, a second chance to give, Instil in them the hope they need for a better to live.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
Life on the streets
*"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God..." Romans 3:23* Jane woke up In a strange bed Liquor on her breath She lit up a cigarette She knew that it was death. She watched him Put his pants on Before he went to work She thought He was a loser She thought He was a **** She walked out his doorway Back out on the street   She now had $60 So she went out to eat She observed the customers The waitress and the cook How could She keep on living With the guilt She felt - the looks? They all knew her business Her clothing said it all So they sat in judgment Nailed her to the wall. She left with shame Surrounding her There was no disguise She left with face A flaming red Tears burning In her eyes She walked by an outreach Walked in with Other knaves She felt she might Find some help The sign said, "JESUS SAVES". Sue woke beside her hubby In a nice suburban home She went and made Him breakfast He came down Well groomed. He went to Good employment He had a sterling past She put on her makeup And went to Yoga class Then the doctor's office Her tests negative again She filled out the Paperwork And thoughtlessly Took their pen Then she drove To Wal-Mart In a hurry She was late For her next appointment For the lunch Which her friends ate She went in to Meet them That's when She saw Jane She looked with derision. That ***** ***** again. She consumed her salad "The girls" laughter Met Jane's ears That's what caused Her face to blush That's what Caused her tears. Sue drove home. She cut cars off, Not thinking it depraved. Jane walked in the outreach With the legend "JESUS SAVES". Two very different women Died & went to God It was then Something happened... Definitely odd! Jane went before The Father He looked at her list. All the things Which she had done All the marks she'd missed But He then Acquitted her! He hugged her with love! For to HIM Her page was *blank For He saw JESUS' BLOOD!* Sue then stood Before Him He looked at Her short note. All things done UNKNOWINGLY Were what The angels wrote. How she'd transgressed Her husband By taking him For granted How she'd taken The doctor's pen And other things She wanted How she and her friends Had laughed at A girl in pain... That the woman's guilty That much was Quite plain... So Jane was then succored Sue went on bereft Jane stood on the right hand Sue stood to the left. For Jane was FORGIVEN Her joy had no end... Sue eternal torment Because she was CONDEMNED. What's your stance, My people? Will you stand or FALL? For God is always watching And He judges US ALL. SøułSurvivør (C) 10/2/2017
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Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
Forgiven/Condemned
*"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God..." Romans 3:23* Jane woke up In a strange bed Liquor on her breath She lit up a cigarette She knew that it was death. She watched him Put his pants on Before he went to work She thought He was a loser She thought He was a **** She walked out his doorway Back out on the street   She now had $60 So she went out to eat She observed the customers The waitress and the cook How could She keep on living With the guilt She felt - the looks? They all knew her business Her clothing said it all So they sat in judgment Nailed her to the wall. She left with shame Surrounding her There was no disguise She left with face A flaming red Tears burning In her eyes She walked by an outreach Walked in with Other knaves She felt she might Find some help The sign said, "JESUS SAVES". Sue woke beside her hubby In a nice suburban home She went and made Him breakfast He came down Well groomed. He went to Good employment He had a sterling past She put on her makeup And went to Yoga class Then the doctor's office Her tests negative again She filled out the Paperwork And thoughtlessly Took their pen Then she drove To Wal-Mart In a hurry She was late For her next appointment For the lunch Which her friends ate She went in to Meet them That's when She saw Jane She looked with derision. That ***** ***** again. She consumed her salad "The girls" laughter Met Jane's ears That's what caused Her face to blush That's what Caused her tears. Sue drove home. She cut cars off, Not thinking it depraved. Jane walked in the outreach With the legend "JESUS SAVES". Two very different women Died & went to God It was then Something happened... Definitely odd! Jane went before The Father He looked at her list. All the things Which she had done All the marks she'd missed But He then Acquitted her! He hugged her with love! For to HIM Her page was *blank For He saw JESUS' BLOOD!* Sue then stood Before Him He looked at Her short note. All things done UNKNOWINGLY Were what The angels wrote. How she'd transgressed Her husband By taking him For granted How she'd taken The doctor's pen And other things She wanted How she and her friends Had laughed at A girl in pain... That the woman's guilty That much was Quite plain... So Jane was then succored Sue went on bereft Jane stood on the right hand Sue stood to the left. For Jane was FORGIVEN Her joy had no end... Sue eternal torment Because she was CONDEMNED. What's your stance, My people? Will you stand or FALL? For God is always watching And He judges US ALL. SøułSurvivør (C) 10/2/2017
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143
The air-con overhead drowns out, not enough, the couple on a date next to me. His jeans have gathered fluff, dried in a dryer, crinkled and in-a-rush. Her shoes are clean though under the table he doesn’t, and will not, notice, the closest he’ll come to seeing them is maybe on a bedroom floor in a month or maybe two, maybe more if this coffee date goes askew, but for time being they gaze, stare at one another whilst talking: his plan is to set up an online outreach program, take the money and run, hers, to stay in education, an MA in Creation Research, read and wait, sit for Judgement Day.
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Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 7:57 AM UTC
Shoes and Jeans and Bedroom Floors
Winter eve that never leave Its touch outreach the night Cold embrace Thats out to seek The moon in Midnight Sky White the snow that falls below That covers all the ground And sombre but the Willow tree Painted by frost's white glow Hear Hear the silent echo Stars above will know Hear Hear the voice That brings the new morn' light The silent Midnight sky 🌛🌟🌌🌟❄🌜 ===to be continued===
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Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 6:08 AM UTC
2.The silent Midnight Sky(Winter)
high finance and terror you had half a job the commissioner made a huge mistake where words just disappear oh do help the rich and well-connected they need you careful that your boss does not see you favoriting my tweets unstar! unstar! panic! panic! social media illiteracy bio: follow or **** off **** the king of hearts quadruple cheeseburger acidic fruits keep chugging harm on y a night of debauchery in the works our minds refueled with petroleum entropy hour with free golden shower where truth gnaws at your legs but you continue walking human irrationality gets beaten to a pulp by bot rationality how bland and discordant getting them drawn and quartered humanity can do without us that **** poet saw the egg hatch into regrets **** the only one who cares manufacturing awkward silences and making a killing what the hell is anergy miss world virginity 2012 what have we done ghost eating humans or some **** like that someone already thought of that funny thing you wanted to say your timeline can beat my timeline mute only the users who make too much sense the epitome of trying too hard and then coronal mass ejection all the over the place you know this goes nowhere so you want out no more outreach from this point on shredded the flow chart too much in the projects exit stage down
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Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
employment
Prelude PEAVEY you give PEAVEY the splendor Of the PEAVEY CAN I HAVE AN ‘AMEN’!? How great is our PEAVEY WOOOOOO! The lion and The PEAVEY name above all YEAH!!!!! Age to PEAVEY chorus PEAVEY bridge PEAVEY You are PEAVEY touching my PEAVEY these Bones will PEAVEY shout your PEAVEY OH YEAH!!!! We pour out our PEAVEY WOOOOO!!!!! YEAHHHH!!! An’ Lord We just wanna PEAVEY you YEAH! And WOOOOO!!! REPEAT 4X PEAVEY YEAH!  WOOOOO!!!! We are God’s PEAVEY AMEN!!!! CAN I HEAR AN ‘AMEN!?’ Food drive PEAVEY outreach ministries PEAVEY Love offering PEAVEY I worship PEAVEY Outreach WOOOOO! And Lord we just offer up our PEAVEY…!!! (You can always walk away – and I did)
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Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Community PEAVEY Thanksgiving PEAVEY Service
Until the rain melts and clouds bump into the sun, you can try and elude me. Until rabbit ****** is outlawed and Alice grows up, you can try and outwit me. Until horses stop galloping and cheetahs are fat, you can try and outrun me. Until beggers choose and choosers beg, you can try and turn on me. Until down is up and up is down, you can try and outreach me. But I will continue chasing you, around landmines, hopping rabbit holes, and fighting currents, until you are mine.
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Progressense
By: Cedric McClester, . How many funerals must we attend Before the genocide is brought to an end How many families must be left behind Before we regain our presence of mind How many times must it all be repeated Before the enemy is finally defeated When will self-love become our sacred trust See I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us What good are the candles or the cardboard shrines When it’s apparent that we’ve lost our minds What good is a painting of the deceased When the violence is steadily being increased When will self-love become our sacred trust See I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us This ain’t a lecture I’m not here to preach So let’s call this a form of social outreach The message is urgent I’ll try to be brief While sharing insight as to my belief We are the problem and we are the cure So we can’t go on blaming others anymore When will self-love become our sacred trust See I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us How did we get here is open to debate But I think you’ll agree the root cause is self-hate Before another brother or sister is harmed To be forewarned is to be forearmed We need to return to our original state Where we loved one another before the hate I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us Cedric McClester Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
THE ENEMY IS US
Hello, you have reached your longtime downhome hometown Saint Swithin’s Family Medical Clinic now an outreach ministry of Consolidated #Jesus Industries Inc. where nobody knows you anymore and wouldn’t care if they did your health care is very important to us you are a valued customer our office hours are from 8 to 12 and 2 to 5 on alternate Mondays and 9-12 and 2 to 5 on Tuesdays and Thursday after Woodchuck Endangerment Awareness Day but before Greenpeace Day except when the latter falls on a Wednesday in which case our office hours are 2 to 5 only and on Saturday 8 to 12 if this is an outside pharmacy please dial X and follow the menu if this is a prescription refill please dial Y and follow the menu if this is to schedule an appointment please dial Z and remain on the line if this to reschedule an appointment dial A cubed and speak slowly when prompted to do so I’m sorry I didn’t quite get that would you like to try again I’m sorry I still didn’t get that if you would like to speak to an operator dial oh, I am sorry your time is expired please hang up and redial if you would like to speak with Dr. Name’s secretary please dial 3 if you would like to speak with Dr. Other Name’s secretary please dial 4 if you would like to talk with Nurse Practitioner Yet Another Name’s secretary please dial 5 if this is an emergency then please hang up and dial 911…
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Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 3:56 PM UTC
The Robotic Telephone Tree of Lingering Death
As the line between our private lives, & the public eye blurs, all the old paradigms dissolve, & nothing becomes as it was before, only a few months more, to get this riddle solved, feeling like The Batman The Joker, & Lois Lane all rolled in one, my new name is Nigiri, on a roll hot like wasabi, my threads are all designer, & my hobbies are all hobbies, I am definitely not sure at all, well at least definitely not probably, babbling’ with talking heads, while jousting with the walking dead, because we’re up right now up right now, that's right the life of the party, & you all probably already know all this, because the whole time was Live recording, Instagram Live Streaming all the time, I'm dreaming at the same time touring, every moment recorded, even when it's not at all important, off script but don't trip, because we're still part of the program, so before I even wake up, you already know the whole thing, you already know what happened, the night before the morning, the Knight Before The Mourning, sounds a bit prolific & prophetic, at least a little bit don’t you think, but what’s it matter the least little bit, if no one takes the time to think, they’re just getting their nails done, in the salon in the bottom of the boat, as it sinks & we just think, “Well I hope at least the lifeboat floats”, in a bit of a panic, like Leo in the Titanic, searching for my romantic Winslet, before we both sink in this disaster, see I see you drowning in this sea, & I still love you even after everything, so I swim over & my hand I outreach, hoping you'll grab hold before you sink, so I can backstroke with you on my back, & swim us both to an island beach, specifically Leo's island, you know the one Blackadore Caye, he actually asked me to run the island, said it was just a bunch of palm trees, & I know this is reality, even though it all feels like a dream, so I close my eyes pray for better times, then open my eyes to focus & blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, the camera is always on, the recording is always running, this is layer cake no this is pound cake, no this is the first ring around the onion, onions in the sink, got my eyes running made me think, turned the water off got a wash cloth, then took a moment to blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, as the line between our private lives, & the public eye blurs, all the old paradigms dissolve, & nothing becomes as it was before, only a few months more, to get this riddle solved, feeling like The Batman The Joker, & Lois Lane all rolled in one, ∆ LaLux ∆ from The Sydney Sessions the follow up from multiple # best selling author Aaron Lux new book available for FREE here: https://www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps
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Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
∆ The Knight Before The Mourning ∆
As the line between our private lives, & the public eye blurs, all the old paradigms dissolve, & nothing becomes as it was before, only a few months more, to get this riddle solved, feeling like The Batman The Joker, & Lois Lane all rolled in one, my new name is Nigiri, on a roll hot like wasabi, my threads are all designer, & my hobbies are all hobbies, I am definitely not sure at all, well at least definitely not probably, babbling’ with talking heads, while jousting with the walking dead, because we’re up right now up right now, that's right the life of the party, & you all probably already know all this, because the whole time was Live recording, Instagram Live Streaming all the time, I'm dreaming at the same time touring, every moment recorded, even when it's not at all important, off script but don't trip, because we're still part of the program, so before I even wake up, you already know the whole thing, you already know what happened, the night before the morning, the Knight Before The Mourning, sounds a bit prolific & prophetic, at least a little bit don’t you think, but what’s it matter the least little bit, if no one takes the time to think, they’re just getting their nails done, in the salon in the bottom of the boat, as it sinks & we just think, “Well I hope at least the lifeboat floats”, in a bit of a panic, like Leo in the Titanic, searching for my romantic Winslet, before we both sink in this disaster, see I see you drowning in this sea, & I still love you even after everything, so I swim over & my hand I outreach, hoping you'll grab hold before you sink, so I can backstroke with you on my back, & swim us both to an island beach, specifically Leo's island, you know the one Blackadore Caye, he actually asked me to run the island, said it was just a bunch of palm trees, & I know this is reality, even though it all feels like a dream, so I close my eyes pray for better times, then open my eyes to focus & blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, the camera is always on, the recording is always running, this is layer cake no this is pound cake, no this is the first ring around the onion, onions in the sink, got my eyes running made me think, turned the water off got a wash cloth, then took a moment to blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, as the line between our private lives, & the public eye blurs, all the old paradigms dissolve, & nothing becomes as it was before, only a few months more, to get this riddle solved, feeling like The Batman The Joker, & Lois Lane all rolled in one, ∆ LaLux ∆ from The Sydney Sessions the follow up from multiple # best selling author Aaron Lux new book available for FREE here: https://www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps
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84
Mindless matters of the man filled with sovereignty. Merry he was filled with sorrow and glory. Universal he rises only to choke on the edge. International he hid himself from speech. So he got away on a boat that drove him insane. Intervals came and the American he blamed, For being a sociopath, killing is wife and taking his fame. Things became basic as he floated on original keys, And the waves danced while the sun became blind. Love the action of a territorial move, That causes every issue of life to become happy or dark. Pain is the outreach that condemned his electronic heart. The he laid in the “kool” breeze and everything was sound © Robyn G Neymour
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Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 5:25 AM UTC
A Man & His Infamous Journey Through Life.
from a wonderful night she came alive oh my country obscured in her gloomy might her love seemed so right the feign of her tattered story she bears the burden of Africa the reign of her battered glory her body abut and juxtaposed Madagascar I wish that I fly away from my path I might not stray from the start I was taught to pray my dreams to soar in beautiful array as the nation saddles in its own barrage lamentations of 56 years' blink I see on eagle's wings what victory brings the joy of 36 shining gold rings too bright to look at naming and counting one for each and when twilight was reach in plenteous joy and happiness to the people my heart outreach compensation for years lived in wood and ash
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Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
hope of twilight
Deep in the shines Of cobalt blinding suns, A cold traveler is bound, lost, With only pointed starry night As print to slow circumnavigations Of her ****** heavens, visions scope, Cardinal points are ever reaching Towards ancient regions of nether, Pharohs deltas, negations and delight. Twin stars searing, burning, burst— And in the exploding nebulas of iris, Celestial oceans of aquas rise, cries— Eternal blue laid of cerulean skies Outreach and reel, lot vacuums vast To outer lands, riding stars chariot, With such spacial years of light, Only in eyes of her.
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Eyes of Her
the wind stirs her from her sleep as it tap dances through the leaves, and once again she finds herself with a hastily rolled joint on the front patio at two a.m. maybe tonight she'll finally make sense of something. cursed to the perpetual contemplation of theories she can't even pronounce, her gaze is fixed to the lights of the night sky. she want's so badly to join them. a child sculpted of raw stardust can't rest due to obsessions involving her ancestry. so the match is struck  and the dark loosens up  just long enough for her to remember she's still stuck to the ground; it's enough to make any celestial being feel worthless. but she's priceless... she just doesn't know it yet. sometimes she swears she can feel the force of the entire universe's sway tugging on her heart strings, pulling her in synch with the pulse of all of existence. she often just dismisses it as vertigo and takes another hit. she doesn't get it. the stars burn in the static hum of limitless outreach and await the painstaking instant that they'll finally collide, maybe even just scrape against one another... it's lonely up there in outer space. the planets space themselves strategically to avoid the tug of one another's gravity, aiming to dodge the speeding bullet of affection and the promise of separation it inevitably brings. but she's out there in saturn's rings adorning herself in comet's tails and waiting for a show... stubbornly certain that she couldn't possibly be alone. not forever, anyway. she hopes. telescopes lenses eventually shift, distorting our self-made image of reality... we can't place bets on much of anything, anymore. there's so much to be left invisible, and mystical, and made up as we go. we may be going nowhere, but we hitch our ride in style. pretty painted marbles spinning circles on rutted sidewalks dance in tune... side stepping around a bright star at center stage. she thinks of herself as just a flea in the wardrobe, maybe things will stay simple that way. the roach scorches fingertips, and she hurls it toward the earth... drawing her attention back to the ***** parking lot beneath her feet, and the promise that sleep will bring something new to dream.
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Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
insomnia. (the unrest of celestial existence.)
the wind stirs her from her sleep as it tap dances through the leaves, and once again she finds herself with a hastily rolled joint on the front patio at two a.m. maybe tonight she'll finally make sense of something. cursed to the perpetual contemplation of theories she can't even pronounce, her gaze is fixed to the lights of the night sky. she want's so badly to join them. a child sculpted of raw stardust can't rest due to obsessions involving her ancestry. so the match is struck  and the dark loosens up  just long enough for her to remember she's still stuck to the ground; it's enough to make any celestial being feel worthless. but she's priceless... she just doesn't know it yet. sometimes she swears she can feel the force of the entire universe's sway tugging on her heart strings, pulling her in synch with the pulse of all of existence. she often just dismisses it as vertigo and takes another hit. she doesn't get it. the stars burn in the static hum of limitless outreach and await the painstaking instant that they'll finally collide, maybe even just scrape against one another... it's lonely up there in outer space. the planets space themselves strategically to avoid the tug of one another's gravity, aiming to dodge the speeding bullet of affection and the promise of separation it inevitably brings. but she's out there in saturn's rings adorning herself in comet's tails and waiting for a show... stubbornly certain that she couldn't possibly be alone. not forever, anyway. she hopes. telescopes lenses eventually shift, distorting our self-made image of reality... we can't place bets on much of anything, anymore. there's so much to be left invisible, and mystical, and made up as we go. we may be going nowhere, but we hitch our ride in style. pretty painted marbles spinning circles on rutted sidewalks dance in tune... side stepping around a bright star at center stage. she thinks of herself as just a flea in the wardrobe, maybe things will stay simple that way. the roach scorches fingertips, and she hurls it toward the earth... drawing her attention back to the ***** parking lot beneath her feet, and the promise that sleep will bring something new to dream.
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43
Grey dark spots of misery, Dancing through the outreach of his fingers, Breathing with every slice of his regrets, Haunting the power time held . Words can be judged, true, If only they exist.
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
NEVER RATE POETRY.
three years I worshipped in the red brick cathedrals by the ugliest lake on the planet, but I was cast out of the holy halls, with mounds of Mellaril, and other sacred potions in pill form   to see the “outreach caseworker”, though I never knew what she was reaching for   my husband had divorced me, both my sons were in Dallas, dealing cards at Wall Street casinos,  holding the aces for themselves or a chosen few, like I really knew anything about what   filled their days   my sister took me in, fed me finger foods, had her maid bathe me   and invited the ghosts from my past into her house   they all hugged me and told me how nice my hair looked   now that I was no longer yanking it out by the fist full   and choking on it as it went down     they smelled of sycophantic scents from Macy’s and Neiman Marcus, and I longed for the odor of my cellmate, who had to be submerged in a steaming sea once a week, after they had pumped enough of Morpheus’ brew in her to mellow a mammoth     I missed her, and her truculent silence and the way her arms writhed in her jacket, like so many snakes squirming to be free, or perhaps those were the last sin eating serpents in their death throes, but I would never know for in 1000 days and 1000 nights, her jacket was never removed, for the white ones feared what   black storm waited inside, so they allowed it to hide   someplace in her fetid carcass   now when I look across the charcoal stillness of my room, cluttered with dead distractions, I imagine her there, on her cot, producing anthems on mad marching afternoons, or singing lullabies in evenings last gasps, all without making a sound,   then my eyes well with tears, for I know she would miss me too, and worry what I was doomed to hear and smell now that her mystic music and stench were stolen from me
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
fragrant ladies rocking, part two--cast from the sanctuary
three years I worshipped in the red brick cathedrals by the ugliest lake on the planet, but I was cast out of the holy halls, with mounds of Mellaril, and other sacred potions in pill form   to see the “outreach caseworker”, though I never knew what she was reaching for   my husband had divorced me, both my sons were in Dallas, dealing cards at Wall Street casinos,  holding the aces for themselves or a chosen few, like I really knew anything about what   filled their days   my sister took me in, fed me finger foods, had her maid bathe me   and invited the ghosts from my past into her house   they all hugged me and told me how nice my hair looked   now that I was no longer yanking it out by the fist full   and choking on it as it went down     they smelled of sycophantic scents from Macy’s and Neiman Marcus, and I longed for the odor of my cellmate, who had to be submerged in a steaming sea once a week, after they had pumped enough of Morpheus’ brew in her to mellow a mammoth     I missed her, and her truculent silence and the way her arms writhed in her jacket, like so many snakes squirming to be free, or perhaps those were the last sin eating serpents in their death throes, but I would never know for in 1000 days and 1000 nights, her jacket was never removed, for the white ones feared what   black storm waited inside, so they allowed it to hide   someplace in her fetid carcass   now when I look across the charcoal stillness of my room, cluttered with dead distractions, I imagine her there, on her cot, producing anthems on mad marching afternoons, or singing lullabies in evenings last gasps, all without making a sound,   then my eyes well with tears, for I know she would miss me too, and worry what I was doomed to hear and smell now that her mystic music and stench were stolen from me
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I h*ave looked through flowers They are dying without the attention So are other beings Waiting for a notice A text, a message A phone ring. It is surprising, Not meeting A sudden situation missing out on exchange the needs are simple short greetings. You know them Don't you, Met in the corridor The canteen, In the bus, In a cafe, the bakery The number saved on phone. You call out They'll hide You reach Be in touch Approach Kindness needs to be shown Or they'd be gone Far far away*.
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Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 1:28 PM UTC
Outreach
The start (of) / a braid or a rope / is nothing (at the beginning of this) / it is only the idea stemming / from a sapling or a seed to become / a tree / reality / what we touch, see, and wish to be / Ancient beings can feel how they are not free / I notice this is my mother’s face / as I lead her to the restroom / so near, too far for her / the years count with her / the (counted) years count the steps to the toilet / and consider just holding it / because the pain of walking so clearly outweighs / the pain of holding your *** after birthing 3 children / one of them dead / okay, birthing two children / I was cut from my mother / Regardless, / maybe if you cut out the lungs / things would cease to be / chaotic like the outreach / reaching out a hand / praying she’ll find me / because I’ve gone too far and can’t rewind ////// maybe if you remove my lungs…. / I could stop focusing on my breathing / give you all of my love / show you I am not worthy / of that admiration leaking from your ears ////// don’t be jealous of me
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Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 2:37 AM UTC
it's echoing beneath the pier and I can't stop it!
If I stay here any longer I will surely suffocate We've been drowning for so long now Yet the road ahead is so uncertain With no guarantee of better yields or outcomes I don't care A chance is better than this Knowing, watching, waiting...to die Now a year later I'm gone. This road is equally treacherous But in a different way I no longer struggle in misery with a partner Instead my lonely screams echo Returning to me through the fog Reminding me I am alone Even the trees strive to bridge the vast emptiness Yearning for connection their arms sprawled out Fingers outreach and intertwine into the canopy above They compete for the very same resources Yet interlock hand in hand Anything to beat this loneliness
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Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
The Road Ahead
Click to make a gift My Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ, Click to make a gift My sadness, anger, and shame concrete plan I will travel to Rome third-party reporting Mechanisms examining specific Options advocate concrete proposals Click to make a gift Expertise relevant disciplines need Such tools already exist our structures Must preclude criterion zero tolerance Outreach psychological development Click to make a gift This is the church house, this is the steeple Where the Bishop dumps words upon the people Click to make a gift
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
A Letter from the Bishop
Deep in the shines Of cobalt blinding suns, A cold traveler is bound, lost, With only pointed starry night As print to slow circumnavigations Of her ****** heavens, visions scope, Cardinal points are ever reaching Towards ancient regions of nether, Pharohs deltas, negations and delight. Twin stars searing, burning, burst— And in the exploding nebulas of iris, Celestial oceans of aquas rise, cries— Eternal blue laid of cerulean skies Outreach and reel, lot vacuums vast To outer lands, riding stars chariot, With such spacial years of light, Only in eyes of her.
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Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
Eyes of Her
Particularly hazy, a skeptic's dreamlike state of mind make sure you're still alive, that you're still on this earth- -breathe.- A ethereal god blessing your presence, moonshine upon their maroon cheeks making them that much more endearing. A whisp of that unfateful breath, you find yourself trembling. Void of a sense of belonging. Extended hands outreach for the stars that seem to shine just for them, and you're incapable of counting. You're falling. Falling from... What? -open.- A silhouette straight from the astral plane itself forms into the already fogged vision, where although unconventional, the best thoughts are enlightened. faint already or rather pass out. It would be much easier than facing the consequences of this addiction justified as .. romance. - Their gravitational pull only guided you closer, just as if time itself stopped in it's tracks the sensation of it all was far too overwhelming. Who had really been the predator and prey here? - Tingles ****** at the skin, eyes glaze over with a certain type of shine only a few could pinpoint. the initial benefits would be similar to the queen in a game of chess masking false intentions for those who 'support' take advantage of the pawns as you pleased to make moves of your own. - But you made a mistake. You made the mistake of falling in love When there was absolutely no intention to do so.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
luminosity