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"outshining" poems
In the cusp of closing night, I look into your weary eyes; once outshining city lights. I see no way to realize the healing of this blight - I venture to make a phoenix cry. Remedy of such mythos might, might just prove unjust lies. Chance restoring your ere vacant sight - fighting soul’s primal guide. As any chance to restore my bride, binds our fractured lives. ...No words to describe affliction already decided.
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
The Blinding Bride
It is funny to see banners wishing Happiness displayed with cinematic glamour, the pictures and hordings of Banner heroes. The one at Tannery Road junction was peculiar to mention. Here it was common The captions "Happy" used to summon names of sundry festivals-Local  and national, even internstional. What's uncommon was the bold prints of a hero's name ARUMALAI outshining The caption and his larger than life picture establishing the photographer's digital brushing skills. A passer by wondered who'd be this Arumalai, Is he so great as to be advertised in polivynil? His glorious deeds may be what they want you to heed Still never ever seen or heard of his manners Anywhere than in these motley banners Just as a function at the Tannery road junction Each one passed by this colossal glance attracted provoking  protracted ruminance what do this expensive banners really mean? In another occasion the  glaring glorifying picture of ARUMALAI followed the tag Corporator, Below the man posing a DICTATOR. That was a period to a period of mystery! Banners changed with seasons with greetings on religious occasions Festivals of importance Birthdays of men even with crowded profiles of hailers Whose unrully manners Too clogging up the banners Like a wanted list of jailors. One day a strange banner hooked by the Tannery cross over Spooked and shocked every passer-by There the usual banner cut out the larger than life image blings-out Arumalai the BBMB corporator Posing as dictator! There was no wish of any kind. It was a notice startling any mind The sad demise of ARUMALAI The BBMB corporator Still possed as dectator By his living promoters. "He was sick and the local dispensary advised a minor operation. He was administered the necessary treatment. Was referred to a super-speciality centre and was declared dead. His sad demise was advertised, he was forty. His chummies complained of medical negligence", was the only news summary in major news papers... What was the reason for the minor surgery What're the preparations for the corporator's  operation All are mystery for a  causal itinerary passer by crossing over the Tannery Road junction, wondering at the strange envountering with banners that come and go Keeping no annals Floating on the mind for a while Stopping at the red's knell, Moving with the green signal The rise and fall of heroes As binary one and zero The banners tell a story tertiary Of the rise and fall of a luninary Within a plane ofmomentary Variation of red and green On the Tannery road's screen.
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:13 AM UTC
BANNER HEROES
It is funny to see banners wishing Happiness displayed with cinematic glamour, the pictures and hordings of Banner heroes. The one at Tannery Road junction was peculiar to mention. Here it was common The captions "Happy" used to summon names of sundry festivals-Local  and national, even internstional. What's uncommon was the bold prints of a hero's name ARUMALAI outshining The caption and his larger than life picture establishing the photographer's digital brushing skills. A passer by wondered who'd be this Arumalai, Is he so great as to be advertised in polivynil? His glorious deeds may be what they want you to heed Still never ever seen or heard of his manners Anywhere than in these motley banners Just as a function at the Tannery road junction Each one passed by this colossal glance attracted provoking  protracted ruminance what do this expensive banners really mean? In another occasion the  glaring glorifying picture of ARUMALAI followed the tag Corporator, Below the man posing a DICTATOR. That was a period to a period of mystery! Banners changed with seasons with greetings on religious occasions Festivals of importance Birthdays of men even with crowded profiles of hailers Whose unrully manners Too clogging up the banners Like a wanted list of jailors. One day a strange banner hooked by the Tannery cross over Spooked and shocked every passer-by There the usual banner cut out the larger than life image blings-out Arumalai the BBMB corporator Posing as dictator! There was no wish of any kind. It was a notice startling any mind The sad demise of ARUMALAI The BBMB corporator Still possed as dectator By his living promoters. "He was sick and the local dispensary advised a minor operation. He was administered the necessary treatment. Was referred to a super-speciality centre and was declared dead. His sad demise was advertised, he was forty. His chummies complained of medical negligence", was the only news summary in major news papers... What was the reason for the minor surgery What're the preparations for the corporator's  operation All are mystery for a  causal itinerary passer by crossing over the Tannery Road junction, wondering at the strange envountering with banners that come and go Keeping no annals Floating on the mind for a while Stopping at the red's knell, Moving with the green signal The rise and fall of heroes As binary one and zero The banners tell a story tertiary Of the rise and fall of a luninary Within a plane ofmomentary Variation of red and green On the Tannery road's screen.
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68
If I could steal Saturn's ring Or paint the sunrise in Mars Tie the comets to a string Or maybe pull down the stars. Wish I could fly to North Pole And ride the great Polaris To make the constellations roll Under her divine orifice. I'd walk the whole universe And ride the lunar crescent Sail the heavenly rivers To find a fitting present. For a celestial being Brighter than Andromeda Among the stars outshining In the streams of Aurora. The Virgo on Earth descends Zodiac to a sister's birth And in her heart she transcends A treasure of greatest worth.
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
Virgo (Ode to My Sister)
It’s been told she has the heart of the Sun A bright bronze sphere That can never turn down fun Brazen is she towards those who stand in her way Guided by faith, her feet never stray No matter the currents or the strength of the Tides She goes low when they fly high Like Hawksbill, Green, Loggerhead and Leatherback She attains the longevity they endure Her voice is as sweet as the Black Pineapple Her beauty resembles the Antiguan hibiscus Some might even say more For her beauty is something you can’t ignore Whenever one door closes She makes one more open Always giving faith a fighting chance Whenever the option arises She always chooses to DANCE! As the soca rhythm flows into her blood steam And the bright colors of carnival collide There outshining the others You can find the person I call my “MOM” My Antiguan Queen Always representing red white black blue and gold pride
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
Antiguan Queen
The Siren song    Sung by the Sea    Sounded so much    Sweeter Before the boy Was born. Truth be told,    I was born that day as well.    We shared our first breaths.    Delicate and enduring atmosphere.    Sweetest, most overlooked element:    OXYGEN    Awoken our lungs    And spread life out    Through our    Fingers,    Toes,    Tears.       (His were louder,     Mine were longer) We shared more than rarefied air that day; Excitement. Confusion. Love. Fear. Before I knew it My Scorched sailor’s skin       Sought sanctuary In    Landlocked love. You see    The inconvenient, unfortunate, and unavoidable    Fact of humans is,    They like to eat.       And warmth is also nice.    Diapers.    And Kathy next door just got this great icebox and she says she doesn't know how she lived        without it and that in the long run it will actually save her money, what with buying in bulk and not    going to the store so often and leftovers.    So there’s that too. So I work    Willingly, willfully    With wetness    On Back,    But not behind ears. And my captain is a good captain,    A true captain.    Our pay is always waiting when and where promised.    Pennies are not pinched when providing rations.    He gave me this job out of the goodness of neighborhood. But he has no child.    No wife.    Little reason to head to port,    And less to linger long. I see my boy’s chestnut eyes in my dreams    And they act like the cruelest potion,    Which, when sipped    Leaves the drinker with only more thirst. But there are dollars here, And, what other skills do I have? And, bellies are full. I try not to complain. Tonight, I want the fireplace,    Roaring. Our boy smiling, laughing    His cheeks having played chameleon    With the scarlet of our flag. His mother;    Her eyes,    Outshining her hair,    Outshining the sun,    Scroll between our boy and the page,    As she reads his favorite book of tales.    He doesn't understand a word,    But I do.    We share an unnumbered smile.    He likes the pictures. My mouth has tasted of salt for    64    Long    Days. The ocean gives, And the ocean takes away.
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Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
As the Ocean Grew Quiet
The Siren song    Sung by the Sea    Sounded so much    Sweeter Before the boy Was born. Truth be told,    I was born that day as well.    We shared our first breaths.    Delicate and enduring atmosphere.    Sweetest, most overlooked element:    OXYGEN    Awoken our lungs    And spread life out    Through our    Fingers,    Toes,    Tears.       (His were louder,     Mine were longer) We shared more than rarefied air that day; Excitement. Confusion. Love. Fear. Before I knew it My Scorched sailor’s skin       Sought sanctuary In    Landlocked love. You see    The inconvenient, unfortunate, and unavoidable    Fact of humans is,    They like to eat.       And warmth is also nice.    Diapers.    And Kathy next door just got this great icebox and she says she doesn't know how she lived        without it and that in the long run it will actually save her money, what with buying in bulk and not    going to the store so often and leftovers.    So there’s that too. So I work    Willingly, willfully    With wetness    On Back,    But not behind ears. And my captain is a good captain,    A true captain.    Our pay is always waiting when and where promised.    Pennies are not pinched when providing rations.    He gave me this job out of the goodness of neighborhood. But he has no child.    No wife.    Little reason to head to port,    And less to linger long. I see my boy’s chestnut eyes in my dreams    And they act like the cruelest potion,    Which, when sipped    Leaves the drinker with only more thirst. But there are dollars here, And, what other skills do I have? And, bellies are full. I try not to complain. Tonight, I want the fireplace,    Roaring. Our boy smiling, laughing    His cheeks having played chameleon    With the scarlet of our flag. His mother;    Her eyes,    Outshining her hair,    Outshining the sun,    Scroll between our boy and the page,    As she reads his favorite book of tales.    He doesn't understand a word,    But I do.    We share an unnumbered smile.    He likes the pictures. My mouth has tasted of salt for    64    Long    Days. The ocean gives, And the ocean takes away.
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85
There are too many people With smiles outshining Their hearts When did it become acceptable To say foul things As long as we brushed our teeth Instead of being good people Even in ***** clothes
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Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
World Sailors
She has a luminescence about her A way of outshining the neon and fluorescent That cling to her curves as she dances beneath them I stood there, in my second-hand persona, wearing a mask of bravado, now whimsical with its mouth agape, staring as she made love to the music. I recollected myself, remembered to breathe, swallowed my heart, and dared to move closer. The rhythmic pulse of the music threatened to crush me as my feet touched the floor- my head still in the cloud generated by her heat, that permeated every molecule of my body. The closer I got, the harder it was to keep from succumbing to the lack of air. "Remember to breathe. You're sweating. Abort. NO. Play it cool. You're cool." I could have pieced together A thousand words, pulled from the ether and crafted into exactly-what-she-wanted-to-hear, But she had taken my air. My tongue wouldn't move with my lips To form a simple hello. I just stood there in my mask. No longer whimsical. Nearly desperate and certain that I would die right there. Then, in a move that writes love songs, that creates sunsets and shifts paradigms, SHE, this caramel-skinned goddess Wove her warm, illuminated fingers into mine And pulled me into that dance That she was sharing only with the music. Not breathing again. Keep moving. Stop thinking. Just be. Right now, just be. So, I was. Dead to time and space, alive to the moment and the music, Her touch, the light and the curves. She held to me as if she read my mind; perhaps I wear my heart in my eyes. Eyes that she seemed to pull my soul out of To drown it in hers, as she danced With me. To me. Through me. Beyond me. But with me, as though I were the light and the music, and she wasn't done making love.
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Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 7:01 AM UTC
Dancing on Light
She has a luminescence about her A way of outshining the neon and fluorescent That cling to her curves as she dances beneath them I stood there, in my second-hand persona, wearing a mask of bravado, now whimsical with its mouth agape, staring as she made love to the music. I recollected myself, remembered to breathe, swallowed my heart, and dared to move closer. The rhythmic pulse of the music threatened to crush me as my feet touched the floor- my head still in the cloud generated by her heat, that permeated every molecule of my body. The closer I got, the harder it was to keep from succumbing to the lack of air. "Remember to breathe. You're sweating. Abort. NO. Play it cool. You're cool." I could have pieced together A thousand words, pulled from the ether and crafted into exactly-what-she-wanted-to-hear, But she had taken my air. My tongue wouldn't move with my lips To form a simple hello. I just stood there in my mask. No longer whimsical. Nearly desperate and certain that I would die right there. Then, in a move that writes love songs, that creates sunsets and shifts paradigms, SHE, this caramel-skinned goddess Wove her warm, illuminated fingers into mine And pulled me into that dance That she was sharing only with the music. Not breathing again. Keep moving. Stop thinking. Just be. Right now, just be. So, I was. Dead to time and space, alive to the moment and the music, Her touch, the light and the curves. She held to me as if she read my mind; perhaps I wear my heart in my eyes. Eyes that she seemed to pull my soul out of To drown it in hers, as she danced With me. To me. Through me. Beyond me. But with me, as though I were the light and the music, and she wasn't done making love.
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52
calling out your name in the dark It's become an excruciating custom now An unquenchable thirst daylight stings and moon hovers dispassionately over my head heavy with laments over a fallen crest; Still I imagine still I dream that you'll tune my painful screams into a hushing lullaby, with a promise of forever you'd gift my gloomy tears a twinkling gleam; But now I'm wearing this blindfold refusing to see the light outshining this pathetic hope ; You are not here yet, Maybe you never will be, But I'm not ready to move from you yet, And I doubt that I'll ever will be free From these painful lumps, burning eyes swollen throat and prickled heart emptying it's blood, so slowly that years go by And I can now feel the quitting of daylight while my blindfold lets out a long sigh; as if stating to end this idiotic nonsense of tucking heartbreak and love under these lyrical verse;
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Aug 20, 2022
Aug 20, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC
blindfold
His garb was not spectacular,his shoes were grey and worn; his hair was longer than a mere crewcut. His nails were very ***** his veins were free of needles- and his face shone bright red in the misty sunlight. He greeted the sky with a wail of delight, and the hearts of passers began to throb. Summer and autumn were remarried in an embrace of generous hope, throbbing airwaves,tapping feet,delighted smiles. And then along came a citizen,politically correct; oh so relevant,barely tolerant ,emancipator. With a fuzz of of ***** gray a salloween expressive nosegay- A mission to expunge the infiltrator! He was busy with his flute; he could not practise,he said "I only live two hundred yards away. You must cease and leave this place you do not fit here in this race- ABANDON this ridiculous idea!" So,the stopwatch was set; the 'half hour rule' began to reign: And the police turned up after merely twenty minutes! Nelson's watch saved the day "take another twenty"They did say and our liberator slunk away unfairly treated. Though earth on heel and sky on neck:Lovers' authentic myth outshining heaven: a piper on a bridge unsheathed across the Ij A klted magpie. unswathed the lay fairly greeted
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:55 AM UTC
The Flunky and the Bagpiper
A Splendid Sunny Monday, when the sun is shining so bright, The cool autumn here helps people to get out and take their daily walks and make it work on time. A Splendid Sunny Monday, the skies are very blue, the sun is outshining, but my life is nothing is without you. Mondays come, Monday goes, the evening will come once again, I will toss and turn without you by my side, and wish you were with me again.
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Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 11:37 AM UTC
Splendid Sunny Monday
The ocean and the sky The place where the end and the endless meet The place where they dance with golden embers of fire The ocean and the sky The place where the endless and the end meet Hazel eye Outshining the darkening sky And the dancing ocean premise Brilliant laughter Brighter than the dying star The ocean and the sky, Where all the ends meet
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Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 7:10 AM UTC
The ocean and the sky
*I do not know who I am and there's really nothing sadder than this, especially when people are constantly questioning you about who you want to be and you don't know what to say or how to act. I can hardly keep my thoughts together, I don't know how to put them in order. And I-- I am losing myself everyday as I give everything my utmost devotion, only to find out that I have not been given any in return.  At this hour of night, I feel empty and useless. And it's probably true that this tear-stained sheet of paper I'm embedding my thoughts in will mean more to me than I ever did to anybody. And it's sad because I could never blame them.  There isn't a specific character that is outshining the radiance of others to love.  There aren't anymore dreams, or hopes, or hobbies to hold on to.  Everything is a lie. My entire being is a lie.  I am caught at intersection point,  attempting to busy myself by etching out words on the graveyard. "Come be my savior." You are not there, and you will never be. You, my darling, are a lie as well.  I am not able to kick, or writhe, or scream, for I am trying to jot down what I'm thinking. And sometimes when you don't know what you're thinking or why you're thinking, you just remain completely frozen, with your breath ****** straight out of your lungs  by those you love the most.  I can never rely on anyone.  Nobody cares about you no matter how much they state they do. They are all a lie, too.  I am immortal, and I am utterly dead. I can hardly feel my fingertips at the touch of this pen  as I am encompassed by a numbness so cold it burns. For I am a lie, as well.*
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Musings
*I do not know who I am and there's really nothing sadder than this, especially when people are constantly questioning you about who you want to be and you don't know what to say or how to act. I can hardly keep my thoughts together, I don't know how to put them in order. And I-- I am losing myself everyday as I give everything my utmost devotion, only to find out that I have not been given any in return.  At this hour of night, I feel empty and useless. And it's probably true that this tear-stained sheet of paper I'm embedding my thoughts in will mean more to me than I ever did to anybody. And it's sad because I could never blame them.  There isn't a specific character that is outshining the radiance of others to love.  There aren't anymore dreams, or hopes, or hobbies to hold on to.  Everything is a lie. My entire being is a lie.  I am caught at intersection point,  attempting to busy myself by etching out words on the graveyard. "Come be my savior." You are not there, and you will never be. You, my darling, are a lie as well.  I am not able to kick, or writhe, or scream, for I am trying to jot down what I'm thinking. And sometimes when you don't know what you're thinking or why you're thinking, you just remain completely frozen, with your breath ****** straight out of your lungs  by those you love the most.  I can never rely on anyone.  Nobody cares about you no matter how much they state they do. They are all a lie, too.  I am immortal, and I am utterly dead. I can hardly feel my fingertips at the touch of this pen  as I am encompassed by a numbness so cold it burns. For I am a lie, as well.*
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28
*we're used to disappointment our eyes shine brighter without lights to guide them we'll hold hands when we're done when the moon isn't the only thing capable of outshining the sun the night whispers in our ears and the days rush forward turning into years we're used to disappointment - we can't find stars in clear skies so we don't need them to guide our eyes*
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
children of disease
i saw you in the moon it was comforting. most people attribute their        (eternity) special someone to the sun. you were never that for me. you were many countless, irreplaceable, unknown qualities that i wanted. none of them were glaringly obvious. besides, i am never in the light. i am always in the dark.        (the deep and lovely dark) i am never lost there. i never needed a star to guide me home – i was home already. what i wanted        (craved) was the steady presence to remind me that i was not alone. the moon is always there, you know – even when you can’t see it. so, i look up as night falls        (that black curtain sweeping down, down) and hope you’re somewhere        (happy) nearby, looking at that round rock in the blackness, outshining all the rest. i know it’s not a star, but i make a wish anyway: your name        (a prayer, whispered) followed by three little words.
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
i saw you in the moon.
For ages Saddled with Domestic chores Confined indoors With a traditional muzzle Devoid of a voice With fellow housewives We were sweltering Under the class And gender yoke Seen weak though We were strong as a rock. Things taking A positive turn, When people about Women's potential Came to learn, Enjoying a level ground And expertise, An outshining Women farmers We have begun to enjoy A handsome return. After unremitting exertion In a special way Drawing attention Investor we have indeed Created job opportunities For numerous in need On their turn who have Many mouths to feed. We members of the fair *** If not denied a chance Could outsmart Many a man, in a given Task, grappling with his part. In the Science And political arena Ladies that prove brilliant Must come to the limelight. In the military And peacekeeping task On the athletics track..., There are also women Who merit a tap on the back. Breaking the double yoke Must be the era's talk Gender based discrimination Should  no longer  pose In development's wheels A spoke! Let  this volubly Resonate from North to South And from Beijing To New York!
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Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Breaking the double yoke
a lady of colorful blood prepped in white uniform she'll put your heart back together whenever you feel down or torn she deeply loves a boy as if he's from her books way past his words and actions, way past his looks ointments of her embrace and her medicinal laughter she dreams and doesn't know it but she's already a doctor sometimes her puns are die-worthy yet sometimes they give life she cures with her compassion and bandages the strife people give her their sadness in return, is happiness, she gave all will be unnumbered-- those lives which she saved i liken her to the sun i liken her to the stars i liken her to the brightness outshining the scars of dark hearts she's no plain jane she's no ordinary girl i brought her into my life and she brought healing to my world
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Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
jane (healing)
Strawberry lips Words never sounded so sweet Everyone likes strawberries though I don't believe Warm skin The cold never seemed so distant Nobody likes being cold though The feeling is instant Smiling eyes Outshining all frowns Nobody likes tears You could put a woman down Gentle soul Intimidation something one could not see Everyone loves a kind heart Everyone would be better than me
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Better than me
The moon is beautiful in her solitude. From afar she is like a pearl, pure white Like milk. Though she knows multitudes: She is not white like a pearl, smooth like silk. Surfaces are cratered, tumultuous, grey and not white. Sometimes she is shy, disappearing behind clouds and shadowed trees, As if she were scared of her own light. She waxes, she wanes, she decreases And fades, only to become brighter than ever. She knows what it is like to be ever -changing, outshining everything in Her splendor. Like her, I want to illuminate dark skies.
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Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
The moon
Waiting. Swallowed by ochre sheets, watching you reveal the stars playing under your paper skin, Outshining the ****** streetlights peering through my windowpane. Calling like sirens of melted viridian from the shores of my doom. Drifting, (apparition? wraith? spirit?) your halo of fire splayed along my bed Illuminated. Moving to the tempo of telltale hearts Conducting an orchestra of motion Strings and tendons stretched Vibrating in harmony Two frail bodies Colliding in the night, louder than the most impressive percussion Holding the last note on a heavenly fermata And the conductor never said stop. Ringing from the concert hall bedroom like the sigh sounded from a thousand symphonic suns. Fading in the evanescent eruption. The tendrils of night Weaving dread threads into our heartstrings and Plucking their sour tune - maiming our melody and hacking our harmony til the piano was but firewood to an empty flame.
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Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 2:35 PM UTC
Opus
A ring of natural perfume is adorned on you neck like the sweet dew of April mornings. Chains of daisies and dandelions, which hold a thousand wishes each, connects like bonds created by you and me. Let my hair fall and inhale comforting bliss while exhaling bothersome regrets. Watch the sun kiss the earth goodnight as it lets the sky open to glittering stars. None are capable of outshining the twinkle in your eye or the shine of those soft lips. None can compare to you, an April diamond, flawless and perfect to many Smooth edges and clear soul, a birthstone destines to resonate within the heart, soul, and mind.
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Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
An April Diamond
About it, you made the right choice it All worked out in the end there were Parades and balloons and you earned a Trophy Earned, not received And they never pop, never dull Limp with fractured wrists and arms and Popcorn full to the threatening point of Bursting, but they hold on for you Watch your eyes ***** spewing dark sky Studded with stars in the hopes of Outshining all our halogen Smiles
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Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 4:17 AM UTC
In case you were wondering
All the questions I could ask myself About you and I and we and us Does not hold a candle to the truth outshining us. I do not need to hear your words, although you know I long to. You've slipped away, a swaying phase, unsteady as the moon In your island you're always hiding far out of reach for me. I know the rules and I try to tip-toe around them. Caught in a roulette wheel, shooting myself in the foot. Swinging on the vines like Tarzan in the jungle, my Jane Does not belong to me, enamored, enchained, To this life I'm in, I shall indeed remain. You are a glittering spotlight far away, The light tower, And I am only a glint in the corner of your eyelash, I might cower, The instant you turn to me, the minute you decide to fight for me. The right hour I am able to be yours, in this life, if ever, you have me, So clever, wrapped in maroon silk cocoon, staved away, For you, alone, always unable to love another, steal me from my lover like plunder, come find me on my shores And take what has always been yours.
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Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 4:12 AM UTC
The light tower
The starlight sings to the dead of night crimson lullabies from times long gone, stories of sorrow, love and might that keep the dark entranced til the break of dawn. Though the sun rises, outshining the stars their shimmering voices can still be heard, their silver tongues weave tales of Mars the great God of War and the battles he spurred. They croon of the lovely Venus, goddess of love whose body beguiled the lustful soul of man, whose beauty enchanted realms below as above and inspired tomes of poetry as only woman can. As the sun grows weary and his brilliance fades, and the cotton candy sky gives way to ebony, as the phantom moon begins her promenade, the stars reemerge and resume their symphony.
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Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
Celestial Songs
Bob West said why are you always looking towards the girl’s playground? Looking for someone you replied who? Bob asked   A girl who gets on my school bus Bob pulled a face and combed his black oily hair is she good looking? Like an angel you said and peered at the playground across the way where girls were skipping or walking in pairs See her yet? Bob asked no not yet you muttered wishing you had hoping she'd come into view don’t see any point in girls Bob said putting his comb away in a top pocket wiping his hands on his grey trousers my dad said they’re only after two things money and babies steer away from them Bob he said you watched as girls moved about the playground each dressed in grey skirts and green tops haven’t you ever been moved by a girl? You asked moved? Bob said moved? Ain’t no girl going to move me he muttered spit hanging on his lower lip like a suicidal waiting to jump what’s this angel girl got that’s so special? He said taking out a handkerchief and wiping his brow I don’t know you replied and as you said it you saw her come in to view outshining the sun more beautiful than summer and staring at you.
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Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
OUTSHINING THE SUN.
1747H // 12.04.15 you were my favorite kind of 2am. your violent breaths smelled of cigarette smoke your slurred words spoke of theories in faith your deep set eyes swam in seas too blue you ****** me harder than *** ever did. you smothered me in your supernovas bathed me in your milky way shaped me in each galaxy fabricated me into your lunar eclipse outshining every evening drop i know your kind, darling. radiate. stagnate. soulmate. illuminate.
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
midnight monsters