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"particularity" poems
Verdant eyes, translucent pearls speak in silent witness, wounds unfurl meaning revealed, interrupted girl. Safe in solidarity prolific eccentricity, the scandal of particularity. Pouting mouth grief - filled lips alluring, set sail a thousand ships; tempt me to leave harbor. Arousing euphoria as such, resistance, amity and distance amour sans touch her sense of humor transcends, appeasing the mind’s thirst a vogue sultana, seasoned swagger hair resplendent flame, alternating cool, black asymmetrical coiffure; nonconforming demure the renegade metaphor - singular for sure, no cure. Muted vanity, bathos piercing the jaded circumference of banality; pale protagonist servitude the sapient palaver of the urbane, covered patina of pretense, induced coercion, the commodity self appearing abased wearing lesions of lassitude. Artistic chattel - eminent domain preempting genius, subsidiary of consuming narcissism external locus of control; surrender to the tentative, fettered pendant, Venus in chains arrested visionary bane sterile savant, edifice of pain. The soubrette, dubious incarnation gravid ingénue of prevarication imperceptible venue - theatre of the absurd; withdrawn siren, solitude of necessity - skin - slender veil of shame, nearness loitering redemption; moments envisage the appointment with the soul; ambiguity eschews clarity awareness; ineluctable anxiety, imago - centric confession sacred pardon, seraphic venation intravenous textures presume, the tactile margins of liberty. Therapeutic retrieval, Sanguine, beneath the portico of individuation; Your smile I hear, recovered autonomy blessed emancipation, The scandal of particularity; peculiar treasure ironically captured film, canvas, prose profundity. Ciphering as an ambling book, I peruse you, rendered captive hypnotic avant-garde fiction, spectator of denuded opacity analogous reflection, I Mirror you. A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative, forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative, the scandal of particularity - resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity Love, imagination and destiny. ©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner
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Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
The Scandal of Particularity
Verdant eyes, translucent pearls speak in silent witness, wounds unfurl meaning revealed, interrupted girl. Safe in solidarity prolific eccentricity, the scandal of particularity. Pouting mouth grief - filled lips alluring, set sail a thousand ships; tempt me to leave harbor. Arousing euphoria as such, resistance, amity and distance amour sans touch her sense of humor transcends, appeasing the mind’s thirst a vogue sultana, seasoned swagger hair resplendent flame, alternating cool, black asymmetrical coiffure; nonconforming demure the renegade metaphor - singular for sure, no cure. Muted vanity, bathos piercing the jaded circumference of banality; pale protagonist servitude the sapient palaver of the urbane, covered patina of pretense, induced coercion, the commodity self appearing abased wearing lesions of lassitude. Artistic chattel - eminent domain preempting genius, subsidiary of consuming narcissism external locus of control; surrender to the tentative, fettered pendant, Venus in chains arrested visionary bane sterile savant, edifice of pain. The soubrette, dubious incarnation gravid ingénue of prevarication imperceptible venue - theatre of the absurd; withdrawn siren, solitude of necessity - skin - slender veil of shame, nearness loitering redemption; moments envisage the appointment with the soul; ambiguity eschews clarity awareness; ineluctable anxiety, imago - centric confession sacred pardon, seraphic venation intravenous textures presume, the tactile margins of liberty. Therapeutic retrieval, Sanguine, beneath the portico of individuation; Your smile I hear, recovered autonomy blessed emancipation, The scandal of particularity; peculiar treasure ironically captured film, canvas, prose profundity. Ciphering as an ambling book, I peruse you, rendered captive hypnotic avant-garde fiction, spectator of denuded opacity analogous reflection, I Mirror you. A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative, forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative, the scandal of particularity - resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity Love, imagination and destiny. ©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner
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So, what are the options, my distant companion of presumption? A blade of grass may stand with confidence between gravestones, but lichen yields her established presence over the course of history. Grey hair, spectacles, and naïveté were encapsulated by marital convictions of questionable integrity. Thank you, Mr. Jones, as you confidently spread butter over the surface of a slice of toast. We truly have an anchor which keeps the soul, steadfast and sure while the billows role. It is an early 1980s destination, where the staunch sound of patriotic sectarianism prevails.
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
A Choice of Geographical Particularity
Who is I? In the Now. I am of true boi essence. A writer, a recluse, abandoned only of fate: Destiny ever alluring in the palm of my hand. Limited only by my own inabilty to be present in only one consciousness. I am split between reality strings. A permeant spectre, caught betwixt parallel dimensions. At times incoherrant, lost in esoteric translation. I am physic(al) - I of breath + flesh, perception being my holster, corruption my armoury. Intuitively, i am harmonious, sanctonious, welcoming of illuminations and the darker side of each unfettered moon. Awareness sleeps by my side. Each waking minute guarded. of commonality. I am enlightened. I am bouyant. mobile, fluid-like in kinesis. Conventional existense being the foundation over which i fly. Arms outstretched, willing risk to be my pull. Enticing Love to be my drag. balance, mediums, equilibrium. Lifted high amidst winds roaring with possibility. I am stark in naked complication, although often prone to cover up in cynical, self critical analysis. I am given of self; being the taker a refreshing discourse to which i stray accordingly. Of culture i am a liar. By nature i tend towards honesty only straying when survivalistic path need tread. I am of blood, private yet optimistically open to scarring. By custom i am trained, civil, content. Of instinct; native raw tongue, i am rampant, rapid in force, compelled to grow then emerge. Only. To submerge is to take full scope. i am telescopic in view of A/all else to which i drown my vision. I am unsure if i am young, Although certain that my passage is still being lit by the glow of its entrance, dark passageways luring with their shadows and cavernous corners. I am liberal, random in speculatory silence. I am idle, often motivated by industrial desire. Mechanical in process, structured of cerebreal architecture, yet somewhat discombobulated in particularity. Sporadic be my strain, its think tank choking always on the weeds of sorrow. Essentially i am nothing: yet overwhelmingly everything. I was I am I will therefore i Exist to i as A/all and nothing. As yesterday is to tommorrow, and visa versa, i am a window, a door, a channel: as closed as i am open. Dependant only on my own deliverence of influence and potential. Driven by the promise of future and the demands of my past. I am a vehicle in time, my presence, my motion, my journey is I.
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Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:13 AM UTC
i
Who is I? In the Now. I am of true boi essence. A writer, a recluse, abandoned only of fate: Destiny ever alluring in the palm of my hand. Limited only by my own inabilty to be present in only one consciousness. I am split between reality strings. A permeant spectre, caught betwixt parallel dimensions. At times incoherrant, lost in esoteric translation. I am physic(al) - I of breath + flesh, perception being my holster, corruption my armoury. Intuitively, i am harmonious, sanctonious, welcoming of illuminations and the darker side of each unfettered moon. Awareness sleeps by my side. Each waking minute guarded. of commonality. I am enlightened. I am bouyant. mobile, fluid-like in kinesis. Conventional existense being the foundation over which i fly. Arms outstretched, willing risk to be my pull. Enticing Love to be my drag. balance, mediums, equilibrium. Lifted high amidst winds roaring with possibility. I am stark in naked complication, although often prone to cover up in cynical, self critical analysis. I am given of self; being the taker a refreshing discourse to which i stray accordingly. Of culture i am a liar. By nature i tend towards honesty only straying when survivalistic path need tread. I am of blood, private yet optimistically open to scarring. By custom i am trained, civil, content. Of instinct; native raw tongue, i am rampant, rapid in force, compelled to grow then emerge. Only. To submerge is to take full scope. i am telescopic in view of A/all else to which i drown my vision. I am unsure if i am young, Although certain that my passage is still being lit by the glow of its entrance, dark passageways luring with their shadows and cavernous corners. I am liberal, random in speculatory silence. I am idle, often motivated by industrial desire. Mechanical in process, structured of cerebreal architecture, yet somewhat discombobulated in particularity. Sporadic be my strain, its think tank choking always on the weeds of sorrow. Essentially i am nothing: yet overwhelmingly everything. I was I am I will therefore i Exist to i as A/all and nothing. As yesterday is to tommorrow, and visa versa, i am a window, a door, a channel: as closed as i am open. Dependant only on my own deliverence of influence and potential. Driven by the promise of future and the demands of my past. I am a vehicle in time, my presence, my motion, my journey is I.
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Understand the name Ushered with soliloquy Urged and formed with particularity's same Utterly and heralded if decency... Us, words to live by... Totals of uniqueness, a use for today Simple replies to vestige, the way we live... And the example, of a question to winds of strange... Changes, the toward in the capricious deed, a harmony To look beyond the overt, the escapism and the mayhem We favored for a legend of the everyday, a breaking testimony Ready to live in the times, a comparison to lend and whim The this of thus, a lovers blessing, still a richer lessoning? To which we never knew, a hap in the meager throe of light That said the more, the news of sincerity for its guessing? Was a marvel of unction, to let a reach of bests, become might? That somber need Enabled with the calm of a noble friend Poise is us once again, a promise amid the heed Of causes said for, sated with and a salt to the end Privilege, do we remember your silent approach? To the truth, a vanity we share to know a callous sorts of, you Taken with a harrowed moment, to these we will know The taint and the tender, asking in platonic voice, is ought too; soon?
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Oct 3, 2023
Oct 3, 2023 at 10:09 PM UTC
Peace Beyond; A Stir Of Fate And Fortune?
oh yes I am come to see me locking on engaged recognition tasting this crazed particularity and give it up for laughter deep from bellies catching breath as if we can look again and laugh from deeper no explanation we are mirrors on this wavelength who know at last it is pointless to judge
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
laughing mirror
If someday your fascinating eyes grow playful And you turn your assassins knife to my heart... Held in frightening play, Yet not to tear me apart. If someday you wonder if my inners are pretty, (Like you claim my outer frame to be.) And you decide to peel back my skin, And peer into the rest of me.. If someday you decide it could be fun to **** me? I will not be sorry I will not be sad Instead? I will be happy of the times we've had. I'll remember how long your words held me And the shivers given by your touch. The degrees of sharpness in your teeth And yet how you weren't too rough. I'll remember Winter days. And how they passed in a daze. I'll remember saying everything to you twice, And you never seeming to mind. I'll recall the promises you made And the sanity we resisted so well. I'll dream of every second spent with you, And being caught under your spell. You'll seriously hold the blade And speak quiet words to me. And I'll think it rather charming, Such particularity. You'll grin as you trace it along that grin I love to see. You'll tell me it's a joke, As if you'd ever dispose of me! And lost in my memories, I'll forget to be terrified. I will look into your eyes, and then I shall smile. You'd allow the knife to fall and you'd remain all mine.
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Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC
The Pointy End Of Love
Sweet opus, sweeter hope Anger in the same, of a friends stare? Sent from here to eternity, a chastity's cope Through the eyes of friendship, we know a care... Sentiment of challenges, asked to contain A laugh of days long austerity The grace or the cramp of resolve, to maintain A hopeful live and let it be known, the choice of a vanity Sweet hope, sweeter opus Set to livid forces, we sake a chance meeting With advancing judgment, of a seemingly national cause Set to living days, a blow of wind with time for a friend? Prayers are said Patience be a column of repose, livid even as tears stream Plied eyes should, a careful need for what was lead Persuasion of a courtesy, that has become a pet demon... Pretty invaders, in particularity's cloth, seconds of dress That are formal, that are fiendish? To make no mistake about a hateful lip, heard in the God bless Of the moment partaken, where a silent mention of a wish... Is a brazen cough, of psyche and dismay... Taken to reality; for a simpler have, and orchestration How is a waiting hour, the only way to seek a smile from a stranger? Answering the question, a priest indicates if hell to pay, is our destination... Secrets of watches, of the teary night None to lay, and become a knight of persuasion asking ways Of a reason beyond silence, the order of dread to a wishful right Right about now, a marriage has looked, and seen times bell mays Power of the named And the cursing of prowess, to understate the privilege Will a careful lip understand the notion, of a particular shame? Setting love before justice, is a reality of gestures for life, or a ******
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Aug 10, 2024
Aug 10, 2024 at 1:26 AM UTC
A Field Of Flowers That Said, To Hell With Hell, *****
Sweet opus, sweeter hope Anger in the same, of a friends stare? Sent from here to eternity, a chastity's cope Through the eyes of friendship, we know a care... Sentiment of challenges, asked to contain A laugh of days long austerity The grace or the cramp of resolve, to maintain A hopeful live and let it be known, the choice of a vanity Sweet hope, sweeter opus Set to livid forces, we sake a chance meeting With advancing judgment, of a seemingly national cause Set to living days, a blow of wind with time for a friend? Prayers are said Patience be a column of repose, livid even as tears stream Plied eyes should, a careful need for what was lead Persuasion of a courtesy, that has become a pet demon... Pretty invaders, in particularity's cloth, seconds of dress That are formal, that are fiendish? To make no mistake about a hateful lip, heard in the God bless Of the moment partaken, where a silent mention of a wish... Is a brazen cough, of psyche and dismay... Taken to reality; for a simpler have, and orchestration How is a waiting hour, the only way to seek a smile from a stranger? Answering the question, a priest indicates if hell to pay, is our destination... Secrets of watches, of the teary night None to lay, and become a knight of persuasion asking ways Of a reason beyond silence, the order of dread to a wishful right Right about now, a marriage has looked, and seen times bell mays Power of the named And the cursing of prowess, to understate the privilege Will a careful lip understand the notion, of a particular shame? Setting love before justice, is a reality of gestures for life, or a ******
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it was announced, rolling stones and the beatles, michael jackson verus prince, while a classic song by prince was in an **** of famishing spreading with direct contact with google, i dare say english requires phonetic pointers... like ħ... in exampled when, ah and hatch... it's in need of deciphering particularity.... it's a surd symbol... it's not a clear methodological approach to tonguing it... it's whimsical, very daring... i too could hate phil collins... but the 80s were defined by bankers trading property values with no straitjacket required... and that's the pop *** we all wanted: loss of violins and cellos, gain of drum machines... i'd pick prince any day, for the gems that can't be heard on the major channels... or like lao che's gusła or róże europy / roses of europe's 1989 blood of marilyn monroe song: kości czerwone, kości czarne (red bones, black bones), what remained of the band was just a song: jedwab (silk): she told him high society drank cognac with a slice of lemon like the slavic way of drinking tea... he preferred the beer and dried out russian sushi that gave way to gurgling thirst... no, i mean it... ħ should be introduced, a strike of usage erased, like when, like the excess trill of the r in slavic, and the excess mitigating harking of the h in germanic.
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:17 PM UTC
https://goo.gl/WQp3ds (ħ)
Daisy you held my heart My sole was your invisible captive My mind was your unknown territory The fault of me and ladies as"learns" would put it Time has gone, the glory is lost I ran out of cash, my age couldn't stand the wave, I was blinded by lies but now I know better, The league was out of my reach, 001 mastermind stole your heart  and thoughts, Though my being is aching, I can't belittle him, who knows? Perhaps he is the right jemosi, The preferred candidate. Though am suffering from lack of focus and particularity I accept the overwhelming defeat, As i collapse under the weight of reality, I pray that my current fate can change my state, Though I think of you often I stay confused about my feelings It seems I will ever want what I can't have, That's what bind us and keep us apart. *When Mohammed refuse to go to the mountain, the mountain will gladly move to Mohammed... Bindu bichenjanga daisy,
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Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 5:42 AM UTC
Lost glory
wisdom is the principle thing we are pulled into the future not pushed from the past all things are possible, in re-al life, as we know it. fast yes slow fast yes slow fast big loop, rogue wave rogue hole how could this happen -- time umph bump each of us is making waves all o'us, right, all the wees where your bubble inter sects connects === touch touch touch touch touch tictictictictic tip pass that, past that's this wave forms in Higgs or whatever we've us a particularity clapotis, real word lapping waves it means, t's a phenomenon related to walls, not all waves pass some splash at the surface while undermining the wall below eventually such waves eat walls
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Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 2:36 PM UTC
Aha, this is a particulary if-ity, a rogue wave
I'm writing this now, at this present moment in time, on the fly. A million thoughts rushing through my mind. I had a plan to do things today, that obviously didn't get done. I took my dog out and noticed the sun. So I pulled my hood up, and when he was done I just came right back in. I did, however, take notice to the passing of cars and my delusional mind just hoped that you'd be in one. That you'd feel my presence dying. I couldn't help but look down each time, because I spent the night crying and I don't like being noticed when my eyes are shining. Rescue me. The thoughts I have are drowning me. I've got myself, and a throne I've built inside a castle of ******* thorns. Keeping everyone that tries to get close held back by my bull horns. My difficulties, and particularity. My drinking problem that Im trying to acknowledge as an actual problem. I have a diagnosis, a long one at that, but I don't like to be defined by it. I don't like to let it hold me back. I guess if all I have for myself is to say that hey, I'm breathing today, then that should make the day okay. But today, I'm suffocating on my sadness. Asphyxiating thoughts are keeping me from steady breaths and it's hard to just be. I need some ******* sleep. It's been two days of trying. I don't like the feeling of flying. Dozing off feeling like I'm free falling has hindered my eyes from staying shut. It's taking a toll. Enough is enough. When will this weakness stop? Why is there a line between need and want? Ive never wanted anything more than for someone to just walk through my door. Presence provokes persistence. Pull through, keep pushing.
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Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
4:45 PM
I'm writing this now, at this present moment in time, on the fly. A million thoughts rushing through my mind. I had a plan to do things today, that obviously didn't get done. I took my dog out and noticed the sun. So I pulled my hood up, and when he was done I just came right back in. I did, however, take notice to the passing of cars and my delusional mind just hoped that you'd be in one. That you'd feel my presence dying. I couldn't help but look down each time, because I spent the night crying and I don't like being noticed when my eyes are shining. Rescue me. The thoughts I have are drowning me. I've got myself, and a throne I've built inside a castle of ******* thorns. Keeping everyone that tries to get close held back by my bull horns. My difficulties, and particularity. My drinking problem that Im trying to acknowledge as an actual problem. I have a diagnosis, a long one at that, but I don't like to be defined by it. I don't like to let it hold me back. I guess if all I have for myself is to say that hey, I'm breathing today, then that should make the day okay. But today, I'm suffocating on my sadness. Asphyxiating thoughts are keeping me from steady breaths and it's hard to just be. I need some ******* sleep. It's been two days of trying. I don't like the feeling of flying. Dozing off feeling like I'm free falling has hindered my eyes from staying shut. It's taking a toll. Enough is enough. When will this weakness stop? Why is there a line between need and want? Ive never wanted anything more than for someone to just walk through my door. Presence provokes persistence. Pull through, keep pushing.
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