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"paraphrasing" poems
~a question of a thousand dreams~^ “Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see” this one composes itself for all dreams go unremembered the first, the thousandth, the  every in between, erased by the push button of opening eyes but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting, leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come in black and white elementary clues, a pillow indentation, single hair that stretches across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red   but certainly unmine,   dregs of soured sentiment linger like the aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers heated summers breezes give no succor or relief, and the rain following gives no pleasure, for now you are hot and soaked, but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed, and eyes widening in major league surprise, the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted   she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair, and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain, and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated and what you do and what you see is the abraded night ahead, and you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think, the question answered, and you beg relief by uttering “perchance to dream” 3:49 pm see the notes!! someone accuses me of Plagiarism because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago so here is my response to “just saying” congratulations on ******* me off and yes I agree, you do not know the rules “#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“ http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
0
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
a question of a thousand dreams
~a question of a thousand dreams~^ “Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see” this one composes itself for all dreams go unremembered the first, the thousandth, the  every in between, erased by the push button of opening eyes but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting, leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come in black and white elementary clues, a pillow indentation, single hair that stretches across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red   but certainly unmine,   dregs of soured sentiment linger like the aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers heated summers breezes give no succor or relief, and the rain following gives no pleasure, for now you are hot and soaked, but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed, and eyes widening in major league surprise, the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted   she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair, and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain, and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated and what you do and what you see is the abraded night ahead, and you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think, the question answered, and you beg relief by uttering “perchance to dream” 3:49 pm see the notes!! someone accuses me of Plagiarism because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago so here is my response to “just saying” congratulations on ******* me off and yes I agree, you do not know the rules “#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“ http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
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47
these words are a paraphrasing of the famous words from Martin Niemöller, an anti-Hitler, German Christian pastor: "First, they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I wasn’t a trade unionist, so I didn’t speak out. Then they came for the Jews. I wasn’t a Jew so I didn’t speak out. Then they came for me, and there was no one to speak for me.” <?> 8/22/17 2:01am https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_they_came_...
0
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
A Poem: "Then they came for me"
He’s a spoiled rich kid In the land of the one percent. He feels no remorse for Those who can’t pay their rent. He’s popular with fools And a bunch of toothless boozers All the while laughing And calling them all losers. The favorite son of the GOP Says nothing with specificity. He just makes vague promises He has no idea what his platform is. He only knows if he stirs up hate He will win certain delegates. He won’t be held to the fire Half-truths work for him just fine. He’d prefer you not inquire. Nobody makes him toe the line. He is paraphrasing fascism Like he’s the one who invented it. It’s like Germany in 1930s They could have easily prevented it. The favorite son of the GOP Says nothing with specificity. He just makes vague promises He has no idea what his platform is. He only knows if he stirs up hate He will win certain delegates. Here’s the way to make it Work the best for a new dictatorship. You take the populace along On your traveling one-man ego trip After your party has published Scurrilous big lies about the opposition Then spread a lot more rumors Which gives the voters their ammunition. The favorite son of the GOP Says nothing with specificity. He just makes vague promises He has no idea what his platform is. He only knows if he stirs up hate He will win certain delegates.
0
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
DICTATORSHIP USA USA USA
Extra lessons after school Explaining how you are not yourself Such small words used so simply Cut like knives through your chest 'She' Paraphrasing arguments Summarizing discipline Faceless family with too much on their own plate to understand Why you don't like what's on yours 'She' Tightness in your chest not because your binding is too small But because it isn't The name of a state has never hurt so much 'She' You look in the mirror and grimace Shower so fast you don't have to see yourself Roll their words in your mind until you're leaning over the toilet 'She' Humming summer days fade into early autumn nights Long days enforce what they have already told you Dress code laws repeated by tongue And hasty dressing in changing rooms Hoping they won't notice you 'She' But you are an active volcano There are wolves in your chest and lions in your brain And they can't change you You get home and look in the mirror and sign into skype A simple word that only drops one letter Has never had so much power He.
0
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
She
Coiled beneath a sleepers rafter, atoning for the numbness chosen, not felt. I burn with a dark desire to achieve an infinite satisfaction, paraphrasing every minuscule sin not fortified, every schema variegated.
0
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
Repentance
By Arcassin Burnham Grab her and hold her tight slick, You only got one chance at this, Do you make her smile and tell Her things like " peek-a-boo ", Like fake lovers do, I'm looking right at you, Your mind is here, But her body is somewhere else, Somewhere, Where she doesn't have to hear your Horrible jokes, Somewhere, Paraphrasing all things in your life as a hoax, Should have stuck with a rose, Be we all know, That sometimes a rose signifies death, If she comes back , will you take care of Yourself? You're not looking so good, Maybe the hospice will help, Well.... I'm thinking out loud at the moment, Or T.O.L.A.T.M I suppose, That You texted to me when you gave This long speech about getting her back, Had nothing to do with that, But like a dumb *** I replied right back, So slow and simple minded, Bored and dumbfounded, You're fifty shades of ****** up, With a side of punches from Garnet, Smell it. •=•
0
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
"That Daffodil Smell"
**All Hours of the Night you get it by now... I'm no ordinary dude I'm the Guardian I vouched for you and if I don't make you accountable for this mess; you were quick to stick the puppies face in it because she's gotta learn right "you know how ******* get" a moment of weakness you've called it crawling back now on the same bended knee you take to to pray about it... on the same bended knee you take to to take him and you kiss your kids with that mouth how irresponsible it would be of me to not post your offenses tough love or tough talk which one are you I'ma go with my gut because you said to... I'm paraphrasing "always take a ***** at her word" we set better examples here so I'ma put your nose in the wet spot and as for your performance; I gotta give it up kudos standing o but I can't wait around for the encore and I can't wait to write your review and now when it's aching and everything smells like me clenching won't do; fistfuls of your bed spreads feel like your back is breaking but no more O's for you miss it All Hours of the Night you're supposed to do you miss him like that too oscar - nominee my crown is your crown now that's how we felt we were supposed to get down for the rest of however long the rest of turns out to be there's never been a language ever spoken or scripture ever inked on how we move because it's a given here where we quietly defend the dynasty inside these gates outside ourselves and between me and the walls haven't you been nervous for no good reason haven't you missed the butterflies because you still can't wait to see me we came in undersized but your crown was my crown now because you know good and well that's my breath when a breeze leaves just a tease of warm air under there and because you love butterflies wasn't *** better than *** fascinating **** huh… me like you didn't know before now and now that yearn can't be made well by any earthborn figure outside these gates or inside you and only between me and the walls there's been no language assigned we still can't pronounce it but it's called love no matter your accent or if you speak in tongue fight it All Hours of the Night it's tiring and you're weak I give it a week before you come crawling back on the same bended knee you take to pray about it and to take him you kiss your kids with that mouth I am no ordinary dude I'm the Guardian I vouched for you codefendants love is war I thought you understood our plight I have to make you accountable for this mess; you gotta learn "you know how ******* get." how irresponsible it would be of me to not post your offenses tough love or tough talk which one are you it's okay to miss me you're supposed to do you miss him like that too...**
0
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
*******
**All Hours of the Night you get it by now... I'm no ordinary dude I'm the Guardian I vouched for you and if I don't make you accountable for this mess; you were quick to stick the puppies face in it because she's gotta learn right "you know how ******* get" a moment of weakness you've called it crawling back now on the same bended knee you take to to pray about it... on the same bended knee you take to to take him and you kiss your kids with that mouth how irresponsible it would be of me to not post your offenses tough love or tough talk which one are you I'ma go with my gut because you said to... I'm paraphrasing "always take a ***** at her word" we set better examples here so I'ma put your nose in the wet spot and as for your performance; I gotta give it up kudos standing o but I can't wait around for the encore and I can't wait to write your review and now when it's aching and everything smells like me clenching won't do; fistfuls of your bed spreads feel like your back is breaking but no more O's for you miss it All Hours of the Night you're supposed to do you miss him like that too oscar - nominee my crown is your crown now that's how we felt we were supposed to get down for the rest of however long the rest of turns out to be there's never been a language ever spoken or scripture ever inked on how we move because it's a given here where we quietly defend the dynasty inside these gates outside ourselves and between me and the walls haven't you been nervous for no good reason haven't you missed the butterflies because you still can't wait to see me we came in undersized but your crown was my crown now because you know good and well that's my breath when a breeze leaves just a tease of warm air under there and because you love butterflies wasn't *** better than *** fascinating **** huh… me like you didn't know before now and now that yearn can't be made well by any earthborn figure outside these gates or inside you and only between me and the walls there's been no language assigned we still can't pronounce it but it's called love no matter your accent or if you speak in tongue fight it All Hours of the Night it's tiring and you're weak I give it a week before you come crawling back on the same bended knee you take to pray about it and to take him you kiss your kids with that mouth I am no ordinary dude I'm the Guardian I vouched for you codefendants love is war I thought you understood our plight I have to make you accountable for this mess; you gotta learn "you know how ******* get." how irresponsible it would be of me to not post your offenses tough love or tough talk which one are you it's okay to miss me you're supposed to do you miss him like that too...**
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100
The abstract, the obscure and the predominatly boring the living, the insane and the dead the flowers, the water and the bed twisting the solid out of shape rethinking the notion "of" constantly paraphrasing what once was who, what, why and when them, time, tales and sin redundancy is exploring us
0
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
Unified Uniforms of Divided Unity
Trapped 'tween   adjectives' objections succumbed to   long-windedness, snared 'neath an   expanse of circumlocution, paraphrasing periphrases    buried under layers        of technicalities, all in a day's multiformity    working midst the madness            of poetry's sublimity
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
Trapped 'tween technicalities
crassly clashing diametric opposites seething hostility paints tar-stained walls coated against cold indifference interfering ideologies cause pause cryptic clauses calculate circumstance vs. significance symbiotic relationships deteriorate puddles of love remains…unwashed free-flowing determination wrestles mindlessly paraphrasing haphazardly seeking direction
0
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
changing tide
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Basically I'm saying, babe, you're hot. You know its funny, I adore Shakespeare but i could not handle writing like him. All proper and British and modern... I'm too old fashioned for his tastes. Let's think about it. Shakespeare was a progressive of his days; making words, analogies, that are timeless to this day. What am I using? Old tricks of the old writers to quell my taste for old art. Gods knows I describe everything as if I were Dickens, all elongated and profoundly bloated in the most beautiful and adoring way. But back to where I was. You. This sonnet is for you. I did promise one this night, did I not? In my head I did, at least. Oh dear, this'll be a surprise in the morning. But at least it is a surprise just for you. I at least hinted of a sonnet, a sonnet for you, telling of you and our love and how it makes me feel. So here we must go. You are the moonshine to my midnight, the angel to my demons. Too much? I dare say, it must be, you have simply gone giddy with giggles. Perhaps a different route should be approached. If I were a murderess, which in all heart-related actuality I am, I will give this fair promise that in all my running around and cutting out hearts, that yours will simply be those one I keep closest to mine. Alas, too dark? Oh, my love, but there must be some way to express my doting! Be in not in a dark sonnet, or an adoring sonnet, perhaps a comedic one? There were two things I was certain of. One, that he was a vampire, and two, that I was irrevocably attracted to him. Oh, perhaps too comedic. Perhaps too unkind. Perhaps a bit too much paraphrasing. But I digress. Anything I can do to please you, my dearest one? Anyway I can express how I feel without making you laugh, or giggle, or simply chuckle at me? It cannot be as simple, as you say. It cannot be as easy as holding you close and whispering in your ear how much I love you. Can it? Well I promise, then, that I will spend my nights whispering towards you my affections, and holding you tight until you can stand my embrace no more. Will that suffice? Oh, I love you. And I suppose that's the best way to put it.
0
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Sonnet #12
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Basically I'm saying, babe, you're hot. You know its funny, I adore Shakespeare but i could not handle writing like him. All proper and British and modern... I'm too old fashioned for his tastes. Let's think about it. Shakespeare was a progressive of his days; making words, analogies, that are timeless to this day. What am I using? Old tricks of the old writers to quell my taste for old art. Gods knows I describe everything as if I were Dickens, all elongated and profoundly bloated in the most beautiful and adoring way. But back to where I was. You. This sonnet is for you. I did promise one this night, did I not? In my head I did, at least. Oh dear, this'll be a surprise in the morning. But at least it is a surprise just for you. I at least hinted of a sonnet, a sonnet for you, telling of you and our love and how it makes me feel. So here we must go. You are the moonshine to my midnight, the angel to my demons. Too much? I dare say, it must be, you have simply gone giddy with giggles. Perhaps a different route should be approached. If I were a murderess, which in all heart-related actuality I am, I will give this fair promise that in all my running around and cutting out hearts, that yours will simply be those one I keep closest to mine. Alas, too dark? Oh, my love, but there must be some way to express my doting! Be in not in a dark sonnet, or an adoring sonnet, perhaps a comedic one? There were two things I was certain of. One, that he was a vampire, and two, that I was irrevocably attracted to him. Oh, perhaps too comedic. Perhaps too unkind. Perhaps a bit too much paraphrasing. But I digress. Anything I can do to please you, my dearest one? Anyway I can express how I feel without making you laugh, or giggle, or simply chuckle at me? It cannot be as simple, as you say. It cannot be as easy as holding you close and whispering in your ear how much I love you. Can it? Well I promise, then, that I will spend my nights whispering towards you my affections, and holding you tight until you can stand my embrace no more. Will that suffice? Oh, I love you. And I suppose that's the best way to put it.
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18
Imperfect world, purposeless person. I retired to pursue perfection learn jazz tunes, woody and herbaceous plants, read every inch of English literature, Scientific American and Foreign Affairs, have an affair with an American. Oh, and by the way, before you ask, I'm from Mars. Orbiting your planet, admiring the girls. Paraphrasing prayers by George Herbert to share with Jesus believers on talk radio shows where we try to bring your lives into expressible states before it’s too late and climate change inundates you. Reversed thunder, savior-side-piercing spear, one day you’re feeling fine, the next not. We’re pretty matter of fact, clear about the fact of death. Once you’re gone most of us forget your face and previous accomplishments. The place you lived is repopulated with the next generation (of aliens) and that ought to be a comfort, a sort of restful certainty all is well, nothing special need be done. Bluebirds are back, crows are mating on the sky and chasing hawks away from their nests. Juncos and sparrows glean together. I hear pileated woodpeckers jackhammering and barred owls hooting soothingly. Herons smoothing feathers and spearing fish. Everything is as one would wish. Numberless are the world's wonders but none more wonderful than aliens.
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
Purposes Incomprehensible and Wonderful as These Purposes
Touch her spine, Feel the cracks And the bends. Breathe her in, The soft vanilla-earthy smell. Open her up And feel her softness Within her bindings. She’ll tell you stories, Trap you in worlds with her words, Paint a paradise out of paraphrasing History. With time Her precious smooth exterior Will be cracked aged leather. But loving attention Gives her smile lines, And she’ll never lose Her seductive allure. She’ll leave you, Feeling that you’ve finished With her, But you’ll be left lonely In your own head, Longing for her To weave you More wonders. She’s a temptress, She’s a liar, She’s knowledge, She’s wisdom, She’s a universe, She’s a limitation, She’s an opinion, Or a truth. She’s a book.
0
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 10:04 AM UTC
To be Read in a Library
My silence is not, and does not Represent, the inadequacies of my adeptness and my knowledge, Nor does it undermine my capabilities Of paraphrasing primary thoughts In verbose, scholarly manner, no, It does not, can never, didn't ever Mean that I am not opinionated, For it is upon my discretion Whether you are worth debating with.
0
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 5:34 AM UTC
Untitled
The darkness fills from top to bottom an undisturbed wicked spiral farther from what's inspiration I continue to slide Darkness nags from all around etching pain on my skin peeling away at what I used to be I was happy My palms upturned, beg forgiveness let my penance be destruction this decay is sinking swallow me Is this darkness obvious are my eyes dyed black where went that inspiration I am transparent Sway, from side to side dizzy from intoxication ****** from fornication breath.... in,out,in,and out panic drives this man sit on the edge of the middle wish to be more like them them..... them..... Darkness increasing soul is fleeing this inspiration rapes me breeds me breeds in me consumes me amuses me to no end but still i am only me CANT YOU SEE WONT YOU SEE i live only for the darkness the sorrow the horror and gore a make believe world catching the phrase paraphrasing the past i am only darkness i am lonely darkness i am a shadow of was a memory of where a glimpse of who a dash of what Count my sins, darkness on your bitter fingers and toes give rhythm to my woes give forgiveness for the excursions i have made to the darkness Betray my lighting effect expose my soul deny the trust I held in dark on a box i stand, a one man show darkness is my inspiration
0
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 8:37 PM UTC
Binding Darkenss
Paraphrasing: Oxygen feedback don’t provoke me; I relieve all the need plasticized lips to a nail gun at your forebrain steal yourself a jacket; don’t **** around my home when the freeze follows every sinkhole step your fat toes fall away Let me de-muck that nonsense: Met a gal, I did name was Hannah, spat mucosal **** between my duck feet And my tasseled spine H e av e d, hu rrr led at T he s i g ht o f M y s ki n But I cracked and ground my molars and I gobbled that aching dejection & snickering and commanded she **** vanish so it was OK for **** near three seconds three two one till she re-arrived and rebuked a gull’s shade for looking too much like me and I loved her now and again and three second place trophies ago she brushed me first with that formidable brilliance a third of what that beauty, **** that body was gifted with poison that leeched through palms to my nerves them bones and out again
0
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
Foliage
He tied the knot, but this wasn't done at the altar. Hung himself out to dry, though he could never fault her. Paraphrasing something so sacred doesn't keep you warm. Teetering crooked floorboards, dictating the noose that's formed. A deity could never die no matter how many times he hangs his head. But you were never holy disappearing with the dead.
0
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
His Noose
9:00 p.m. walk into the kitchen open freezer door no dinner tonight what a shame open door sit down on doorstep cautious of the fire escape feel the chilled rain fold arms over knees reply to text message watch neighbors take a smoke look at the open door lights flicker in the alley I'm in cars driving by wipe the rain off of arms watch tv through neighbor's window hope he doesn't let out his dog think of climbing out on roof but there are puddles everywhere tears stay separate from the rain think about my failures remember mother walking off screaming paraphrasing her words only to mean it's my fault but it is feel so pathetic stomach unhappy not to be fed compose poem in my head see shadow in the doorway watch the people walk beneath me stand up shivering from the wetness open the door take a deep breath wipe away the tears walk back into the kitchen grab a bagel make some cereal dwell on today eat the food bite by bite step by step
0
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Step By Step
in pursuit of refrains saline undertones flood out the pain the voice chaser she took a wrong turn little rogue princess lets the labyrinth burn overheated disconnect paraphrasing conscious theft wandering familiar haze treading on the better days banish night for quet noon cast away the darkened rooms tuck away the rascal black creeps back for a second act tugging on cerebral blinds paranoid with judging eyes glassy lights the shifting blur swallow now prevent the stir
0
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 5:23 AM UTC
swallow
inspired: gray             old men in soiled raincoats   &        drunk, ***** young | girls                      w/   ratty                                  |           |                             |                pink & blue [hair];      | Russian      girls [dressing  like       second-hand            (Barbie's & Chloe's) postmodern fembots in white ankle go-go boots & Pucci miniskirts w/           moth-eaten colored ||     tights             gather in dusty libraries reeking of old books &  alcohol & later,   strong                      ******   of going   to college [                               ]  parties & losing tenure; Artaud [Rimbaud, Burroughs, Villon],                 Bukowski &                                 Berryman:     insane [Whitman,  Ginsberg, Carroll -                                                                  Plath, Smith, Millay, Teasdale] | losers        |         like old bearded                         (Dorothy Parker)                uncles reciting gutter odes; paraphrasing              classical epics -     [Gilgemesh, the Death of Arthur,                                            Large & Small Eddas]: ***** young girls [         ] write flirty love poetry                                              to old men & teasing boys their                      age w/ insight: boys knowing     nothing of insight,      |       all except     |                             || |                          that one poet
0
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
Untitled Poem
inspired: gray             old men in soiled raincoats   &        drunk, ***** young | girls                      w/   ratty                                  |           |                             |                pink & blue [hair];      | Russian      girls [dressing  like       second-hand            (Barbie's & Chloe's) postmodern fembots in white ankle go-go boots & Pucci miniskirts w/           moth-eaten colored ||     tights             gather in dusty libraries reeking of old books &  alcohol & later,   strong                      ******   of going   to college [                               ]  parties & losing tenure; Artaud [Rimbaud, Burroughs, Villon],                 Bukowski &                                 Berryman:     insane [Whitman,  Ginsberg, Carroll -                                                                  Plath, Smith, Millay, Teasdale] | losers        |         like old bearded                         (Dorothy Parker)                uncles reciting gutter odes; paraphrasing              classical epics -     [Gilgemesh, the Death of Arthur,                                            Large & Small Eddas]: ***** young girls [         ] write flirty love poetry                                              to old men & teasing boys their                      age w/ insight: boys knowing     nothing of insight,      |       all except     |                             || |                          that one poet
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26
Never felt like a bigger fraud than I have right now Fake it till you make it Except it feels like cheating To pretend I know so much When I'm just really good at paraphrasing If only I could memorise Word for word to hide these lies Quotes, formulas, preprepared answers The skill they want is they skill they lack But so do I and that's the issue I understand it all I just couldn't tell you What was said when, by whom.
0
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
A levels
She seldom said good night or did she reply,I didn't ask either, She used to reply silence whenever I text her,(paraphrasing) I created whatever I want from that silence, I thought she is so magnanimous to provide such a nothingness to accumulate my thoughts, But I don't know why they call it as a fantasy,anything that is created out of nothingness, If this is a fantasy then the existence is a fantasy,as the existence is created out of nothingness, I want her to be seen as a fictional figure rather than existential monument, She never saw me with the eyes I saw her, Perhaps I am talking about intention, I think my love is unconditional and love is unconditional, My feelings towards her doesn't have anything to do with her feelings towards me, But sometimes it pangs me as how the flower feels when the bee sips the essence of it, The flower accrues for over a period of time but the bee ***** out momentarily... So did she **** out my love, I love when she does that as the flower is indifferent to the suckling of bee, Only her fragile silence invokes her virtual visage.. The visage with the black in her eyes, The black which only eye-lids can shutter, The moment she closes her eyes is the moment I see nothing, The darting eyes,too irresistible to distract...
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Unspoken longing...
It's true though. Any happiness you felt began with you first. You didn't wait, you rephrased it as a smile. Straightforward really. You felt a way because my passion could never justify. Only reinforce what you felt to begin with. You felt a way because you respect yourself to be yourself. The emotional boundaries of your well being. Thus I awaited your permission before taking the first step. Initially paraphrasing your smile. The importance of being treated the way I'd like to be treated. Holding your stare to create a sense of security. A safety that went without ill-intention. Not because you fill your jeans or the fact that your well put together. What's meant to be is what's meant to be. What's the rush. Although true, you felt a way because I never crossed any of your boundaries. A generational gap between "hey lets chill." and "I'd love to take you out." The honesty of eyebrows highlighting life goals in full view of the sun. Fully dressed. Well groomed. While the sky attends it's breakfast. Reservation in the clouds. The embodiment of grace
0
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
And You Felt A Way
Panic when pin-pointing. Pathetic when trying. Painful pleasure. Passively flipping the page. Packing the past. Passed out from the last. Painting it fast. Put the panther back. Probably paraphrasing this. Preparing the premises. Perfect in any position. Please be consistent.
0
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
Pin-Point
standing in line at the funeral home back where i grew up waiting for someone to pay respects to the dearly departed i heard the young dead woman gloat a little pleased with the plethora of flowers and throws and angel figurines and the long line of mourners and the way her ***** looked in the shirt she wore she thought and i'm not paraphrasing much that 'she looked pretty good for a dead girl' i used to think that we left this world and stepped into angel wings but now i know we cannot be what we haven't been
0
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
pushing boundaries