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"overbear" poems
You did not come, And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb. Yet less for loss of your dear presence there Than that I thus found lacking in your make That high compassion which can overbear Reluctance for pure loving kindness’ sake Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum, You did not come. You love me not, And love alone can lend you loyalty; —I know and knew it. But, unto the store Of human deeds divine in all but name, Was it not worth a little hour or more To add yet this: Once you, a woman, came To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be You love me not.
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2.2k
A Broken Appointment
Sweet... so sweet at first; as if intending to overbear, and then in a moment's breath, the intensity having mellowed fades. Next one's tongue does greet, a nuttiness that begs it to retreat; reviving dead memories of when you two first did meet. Having now fallen from heights, be they slope or steep; the taste of your tongue becomes bittersweet. Ending this final kiss, silently pledging to lose neither hope nor sleep; heartbreak leaves the taste of caramel upon your teeth.
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Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
Caramel.
We write the most beautiful things and then, so abrupt is time, we end; pass on after our deaths, we're dead and forgotten unacknowledged, unmissed; just simply gone every one of us lives this life with the need to be loved each of us goes through life craving to feel as though we're needed so we can write our lovely sentences but it's worthless, for we can't escape our fate, and in the end we'll still die the beings we were to become, no more than mere ashes in the wind not worth even whispers to carry on our memories so hurt thus fell these, our flowing words our hearts consumed with bitterness; grey years will continue to pass, none will visit our graves our pages, our legacies shall sink; take solace with us in the ground so we mourn now, thou still alive; oh how we sit, sit and cry we don't really make sense for why wouldn't we be loved by another when we for another can ourselves love? perhaps unconscious self-contempt leaves us craving to feel neglect for our return or perhaps we're just so terrified of being broken we use our fears, rejections, anger and abandonments to write our most magnificent verses why punish ourselves so, when time will still in the end overbear, and we'll all eventually perish? oh, the merest of acknowledgments to such notions may as well rip our hearts from our chests we may have fled truth, begging, pleading as we birth rivers of our blood, sweat and miserable tears all alone then, without another soul in sight to wander with us while we roam deaths rocky beaches So it's all of us who are broken, after all...
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Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
Simply Words
We write the most beautiful things and then, so abrupt is time, we end; pass on after our deaths, we're dead and forgotten unacknowledged, unmissed; just simply gone every one of us lives this life with the need to be loved each of us goes through life craving to feel as though we're needed so we can write our lovely sentences but it's worthless, for we can't escape our fate, and in the end we'll still die the beings we were to become, no more than mere ashes in the wind not worth even whispers to carry on our memories so hurt thus fell these, our flowing words our hearts consumed with bitterness; grey years will continue to pass, none will visit our graves our pages, our legacies shall sink; take solace with us in the ground so we mourn now, thou still alive; oh how we sit, sit and cry we don't really make sense for why wouldn't we be loved by another when we for another can ourselves love? perhaps unconscious self-contempt leaves us craving to feel neglect for our return or perhaps we're just so terrified of being broken we use our fears, rejections, anger and abandonments to write our most magnificent verses why punish ourselves so, when time will still in the end overbear, and we'll all eventually perish? oh, the merest of acknowledgments to such notions may as well rip our hearts from our chests we may have fled truth, begging, pleading as we birth rivers of our blood, sweat and miserable tears all alone then, without another soul in sight to wander with us while we roam deaths rocky beaches So it's all of us who are broken, after all...
Continue reading...
25
(alternately titled random axe of violence) I calculated an average of ~10.16.... deaths per year of mass school shootings since Columbine, a morbid benchmark where, iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit, now students require armed guards to learn - veer really within purportedly "safe places", which statistics tracks a unilinear trend, and justifiably causing absolute zero reassurance countering alarmist state of mind dust tear ability to accept rationale dismissing greater probability prevails lightening will strike loved ones, nonetheless share ring understandable expressing rightful salient concerns with school board quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare lee remain mum at every opportunity, how second amendment does not square with democratic e pluribus unum firmament, lieutenant management, quintessential reverent tenets pointing trigger finger of accountability at lax gun purchasing rare lee does emotional uproar demanding immediate controls, limitations, restrictions, et cetera on firearms scare the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association, whence spokesperson doth prepare convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear ring lee outgun legitimate parental concerns, now near daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed inducing similar reactions as sports home team defeated, sans mere slightly raised eyebrows while headline news when another tragedy gets tacked unto the 122 students killed since Columbine took innocent lives 19 plus years ago which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare lee induce ripple despite an increasing number of spent bullets fallout inflicting more than 208,000 vulnerable impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
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Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
An Accursed Abominable Deadly Epidemic
(alternately titled random axe of violence) I calculated an average of ~10.16.... deaths per year of mass school shootings since Columbine, a morbid benchmark where, iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit, now students require armed guards to learn - veer really within purportedly "safe places", which statistics tracks a unilinear trend, and justifiably causing absolute zero reassurance countering alarmist state of mind dust tear ability to accept rationale dismissing greater probability prevails lightening will strike loved ones, nonetheless share ring understandable expressing rightful salient concerns with school board quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare lee remain mum at every opportunity, how second amendment does not square with democratic e pluribus unum firmament, lieutenant management, quintessential reverent tenets pointing trigger finger of accountability at lax gun purchasing rare lee does emotional uproar demanding immediate controls, limitations, restrictions, et cetera on firearms scare the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association, whence spokesperson doth prepare convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear ring lee outgun legitimate parental concerns, now near daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed inducing similar reactions as sports home team defeated, sans mere slightly raised eyebrows while headline news when another tragedy gets tacked unto the 122 students killed since Columbine took innocent lives 19 plus years ago which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare lee induce ripple despite an increasing number of spent bullets fallout inflicting more than 208,000 vulnerable impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Continue reading...
46
i don't want your words that stick like tar on the tips of my fingers. they won't leave me i don't want your thousand voices, no all i want is silence. towers overbear me and for a moment i am thinking if i ran faster, faster...
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Aug 9, 2011
Aug 9, 2011 at 12:19 PM UTC
neil
Far moost o' me three score minus one year tethered upon terra firmae where planet Earth doth veer (spins upon the global axis (tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane of its orbit around the sun), terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied for Pete's sake by Gabriel blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear boot more oven concern points to thermonuclear and/or subnuclear war, particularly at forefront of thine primate noggin actively hypothesizing theoretical armageddon, when non plus ultra gravitates with e pluribus unum necessitating each individual to bend over and kiss his/her rear goodbye unless total merciless queer hue loss atomic fallout immediately incinerates e'en the moost savvy profiteer, which aforementioned prognostication arose from overbear ring hazy, hot and humid dangerous heat spell near lee approximating insufferable temperature nearing triple digits (along Eastern Seaboard of United baked States makes this human, an immediate convert to climate control (though he happened tubby already) basking, glorifying, and luxuriating within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere really expressing gratitude for such creature comfort donning my stretched out birthday suit, (yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear then thrift store "special bag mountain of clothes as mooch as Yukon sales," no matter mine ill mannered mirrored reflection doth jeer at such a sorry sight, and/or laugh reading interlinear monologue colloquy, which message gleaned between lines, and should this poem be red aloud, thy ******** passion linkedin with humming HVAC, ye would hear courtesy hove cochlear (hollow tube in the inner ear) sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
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Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
An Aire ' Bout Central Air
Far moost o' me three score minus one year tethered upon terra firmae where planet Earth doth veer (spins upon the global axis (tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane of its orbit around the sun), terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied for Pete's sake by Gabriel blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear boot more oven concern points to thermonuclear and/or subnuclear war, particularly at forefront of thine primate noggin actively hypothesizing theoretical armageddon, when non plus ultra gravitates with e pluribus unum necessitating each individual to bend over and kiss his/her rear goodbye unless total merciless queer hue loss atomic fallout immediately incinerates e'en the moost savvy profiteer, which aforementioned prognostication arose from overbear ring hazy, hot and humid dangerous heat spell near lee approximating insufferable temperature nearing triple digits (along Eastern Seaboard of United baked States makes this human, an immediate convert to climate control (though he happened tubby already) basking, glorifying, and luxuriating within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere really expressing gratitude for such creature comfort donning my stretched out birthday suit, (yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear then thrift store "special bag mountain of clothes as mooch as Yukon sales," no matter mine ill mannered mirrored reflection doth jeer at such a sorry sight, and/or laugh reading interlinear monologue colloquy, which message gleaned between lines, and should this poem be red aloud, thy ******** passion linkedin with humming HVAC, ye would hear courtesy hove cochlear (hollow tube in the inner ear) sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
Continue reading...
57
I believe, to this day, that everyone walking by me in the galleria, the lakeside, or the parking lot is just as confused as me. I trust, to believe, that so many of us are fully exhausted because we are trying to get what we want. Whether the light burned out in the spotlight for a show, or rain is pouring down on the new field on opening day, at least we are here this is better than gone. I know, that some, even me, don’t quite know what we want. I think, we think, we don’t deserve our dream. What if, that dream, tells us something we never question? The question we are subliminally asked spreads among us in our heart, “why are you doubting yourself?” So what, if you forget the words to that song you wrote. Who cares, if you strike out your first time at bat? Why so bad, if not crowned at the beauty pageant? It’s ok, if our confidence seems to overbear our skill. How else do we learn? How about, taking the hard work and comparing it to the dream in your head? Someday, they will look the same and you will smile the way you do when you dream.
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
The Dreamer's Choice
No rocket surgeon, nor brain scientist called upon but only Rudolf the red nose reindeer solicited as psychological mentor yes...undoubtedly countless decades removed since queer (not very gay at all!) ****** changing phenomena from thine angst riddled biological metamorphosis allows me to peer with greater theft of mine precious youth stolen, via piercing overbear ring mailer daemons, when mine tender age did near cusp whence onset of puberty clapped development tight as if by a doppelganger mutineer warp and weft of mine lifetime tapestry mine acute perception doth lear as threads got tightly woven into mine casual knitwear though pubescent phase wrought with oppressive foresight interwoven with jeer ring bullying hmm...maybe thine ability to distill self actualization extant among interlinear teenage stage viewable during my youthful days, but clouded over asper mine more vivid perspective here from this present moment ha...amusing insight from present perch devoid of adolescent glare sire re: brill grade do lobes gleam freer, now with insight aye ear rate at such pitch 'ere perfect hindsight aye declare, yet as a much younger self when I hapt to be a boy, acuity seemed oblivious to perceive via sight and sound what social cues visceral, (visual, and audiological) seems crystal clear revisiting non verbal awkward teenage mutant ninja turtle memories, that now deafeningly blare at the threshold of ear splitting decibels, how hard of hearing human (nada so) subtle in retrospect, I am aware interpersonal nuances clear as the tune Doris Day Que será, será did voice, a catchy air.
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
Upon The Firmament Of Hindsight
No rocket surgeon, nor brain scientist called upon but only Rudolf the red nose reindeer solicited as psychological mentor yes...undoubtedly countless decades removed since queer (not very gay at all!) ****** changing phenomena from thine angst riddled biological metamorphosis allows me to peer with greater theft of mine precious youth stolen, via piercing overbear ring mailer daemons, when mine tender age did near cusp whence onset of puberty clapped development tight as if by a doppelganger mutineer warp and weft of mine lifetime tapestry mine acute perception doth lear as threads got tightly woven into mine casual knitwear though pubescent phase wrought with oppressive foresight interwoven with jeer ring bullying hmm...maybe thine ability to distill self actualization extant among interlinear teenage stage viewable during my youthful days, but clouded over asper mine more vivid perspective here from this present moment ha...amusing insight from present perch devoid of adolescent glare sire re: brill grade do lobes gleam freer, now with insight aye ear rate at such pitch 'ere perfect hindsight aye declare, yet as a much younger self when I hapt to be a boy, acuity seemed oblivious to perceive via sight and sound what social cues visceral, (visual, and audiological) seems crystal clear revisiting non verbal awkward teenage mutant ninja turtle memories, that now deafeningly blare at the threshold of ear splitting decibels, how hard of hearing human (nada so) subtle in retrospect, I am aware interpersonal nuances clear as the tune Doris Day Que será, será did voice, a catchy air.
Continue reading...
52
(alternately titled random axe of violence) I calculated an average of ~10.16.... deaths per year of mass school shootings since Columbine, a morbid benchmark where, iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit, now students require armed guards to learn - veer really within purportedly "safe places", which statistics tracks a unilinear trend, and justifiably causing absolute zero reassurance countering alarmist state of mind dust tear ability to accept rationale dismissing greater probability prevails lightening will strike loved ones, nonetheless share ring understandable expressing rightful salient concerns with school board quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare lee remain mum at every opportunity, how second amendment does not square with democratic e pluribus unum firmament, lieutenant management, quintessential reverent tenets pointing trigger finger of accountability at lax gun purchasing rare lee does emotional uproar demanding immediate controls, limitations, restrictions, et cetera on firearms scare the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association, whence spokesperson doth prepare convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear ring lee outgun legitimate parental concerns, now near daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed inducing similar reactions as sports home team defeated, sans mere slightly raised eyebrows while headline news when another tragedy gets tacked unto the 122 students killed since Columbine took the lives of innocent lives 19 plus years ago which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare lee induce ripple despite an increasing number of spent bullets fallout inflicting more than 208,000 vulnerable impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
0
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
An accursed abominable deadly epidemic
(alternately titled random axe of violence) I calculated an average of ~10.16.... deaths per year of mass school shootings since Columbine, a morbid benchmark where, iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit, now students require armed guards to learn - veer really within purportedly "safe places", which statistics tracks a unilinear trend, and justifiably causing absolute zero reassurance countering alarmist state of mind dust tear ability to accept rationale dismissing greater probability prevails lightening will strike loved ones, nonetheless share ring understandable expressing rightful salient concerns with school board quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare lee remain mum at every opportunity, how second amendment does not square with democratic e pluribus unum firmament, lieutenant management, quintessential reverent tenets pointing trigger finger of accountability at lax gun purchasing rare lee does emotional uproar demanding immediate controls, limitations, restrictions, et cetera on firearms scare the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association, whence spokesperson doth prepare convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear ring lee outgun legitimate parental concerns, now near daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed inducing similar reactions as sports home team defeated, sans mere slightly raised eyebrows while headline news when another tragedy gets tacked unto the 122 students killed since Columbine took the lives of innocent lives 19 plus years ago which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare lee induce ripple despite an increasing number of spent bullets fallout inflicting more than 208,000 vulnerable impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Continue reading...
46
(Justice of love and hate) Blindfolded, You do not judge, by sight Embolden, By neither darkness, nor light Balanced, Your scales of wants, and need Challenged, To determine which, to feed Justice, Your sword pierces, the hardest of hearts Mercy, Compassion awarded, to birth new starts Blindfolded, You condemn what you, do not see Scolded, You point your ignorant fingers, carelessly Unstable, You overbear the scales from, love to greed Maniacle, Upon your slain and ruined, is what you feed Vicious, You seek to devour, the weakest first Malevolent, The blood of innocents can't quinch, your thirst
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Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
η δικαιοσύνη της αγάπης και του μίσους