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"pealed" poems
When first I saw you, you were lying on a green bank laughing at the sky as you watched the clouds scud by and you saw all kinds of shapes in those clouds and gasped in awe as the myriad of birds soared and wheeled through the clouds. Your laugh skipped across the distance between us like magical notes from a faery harp. The sunlight lit up your golden hair making diamonds out of the shafts of sunlight as you turned your head to and fro making the sunbeams dance to your tune. And about your head was a halo of white lilies … When next I saw you you were hand in hand with your love walking into the sunlight from the grey stone church. Your brocade of white entwined with golden thread sparkled like a million gems. Your face was bright and alive with smiling eyes and your golden hair fell down around your face catching the sunbeams. And ringing out their joy, the church bells pealed for you. And in your hand was a bouquet of white lilies … I saw you again on that same green bank laughing with joy as your golden child frolicked in the warm summer sun, her childish laugh mingling with your own in angelic harmony. You grasped her up and, wheeling her skyward, faces upturned, letting the sunbeams play around you and then, holding her close, you sank to your knees cradling the babe, letting the love flow out and around you both. And in the child’s small hand was grasped a single white lily … The next time I saw you you were quietly sitting in the late summer sun comfortable in your chair watching the golden sun flame red as it sank below the distant horizon. Your golden hair now not so vibrant and your face etched with the many years of your long life yet when you smiled at the glory of the setting sun, the sparkle of your eyes was not dimmed at all. And around your feet grew a field of white lilies … The last time I saw you I gave you my hand and, with fingers entwined, we walked away from the sombre crowd whose tears flowed like pearls as the stark white coffin was lowered into the ground. And looking into your face I saw you again as you were that first time, your golden hair that fell as rivulets around your now pale, sad face. I took that face in my hands and gently kissed your lips, no more than a whisper, like a gentle spring breeze teasing the blossoms. Still hand in hand, we looked back at the sad scene and then turned and walked into the light. And all about your grave lay white lilies.
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Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
White Lilies – a gothic love story
When first I saw you, you were lying on a green bank laughing at the sky as you watched the clouds scud by and you saw all kinds of shapes in those clouds and gasped in awe as the myriad of birds soared and wheeled through the clouds. Your laugh skipped across the distance between us like magical notes from a faery harp. The sunlight lit up your golden hair making diamonds out of the shafts of sunlight as you turned your head to and fro making the sunbeams dance to your tune. And about your head was a halo of white lilies … When next I saw you you were hand in hand with your love walking into the sunlight from the grey stone church. Your brocade of white entwined with golden thread sparkled like a million gems. Your face was bright and alive with smiling eyes and your golden hair fell down around your face catching the sunbeams. And ringing out their joy, the church bells pealed for you. And in your hand was a bouquet of white lilies … I saw you again on that same green bank laughing with joy as your golden child frolicked in the warm summer sun, her childish laugh mingling with your own in angelic harmony. You grasped her up and, wheeling her skyward, faces upturned, letting the sunbeams play around you and then, holding her close, you sank to your knees cradling the babe, letting the love flow out and around you both. And in the child’s small hand was grasped a single white lily … The next time I saw you you were quietly sitting in the late summer sun comfortable in your chair watching the golden sun flame red as it sank below the distant horizon. Your golden hair now not so vibrant and your face etched with the many years of your long life yet when you smiled at the glory of the setting sun, the sparkle of your eyes was not dimmed at all. And around your feet grew a field of white lilies … The last time I saw you I gave you my hand and, with fingers entwined, we walked away from the sombre crowd whose tears flowed like pearls as the stark white coffin was lowered into the ground. And looking into your face I saw you again as you were that first time, your golden hair that fell as rivulets around your now pale, sad face. I took that face in my hands and gently kissed your lips, no more than a whisper, like a gentle spring breeze teasing the blossoms. Still hand in hand, we looked back at the sad scene and then turned and walked into the light. And all about your grave lay white lilies.
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53
I need to cleanse it, free myself Of this burden  tainted upon My being. Cinders are drenched on Flesh Spirit Expunge That which writhes is not burnt away, So I must eradicate its stench It violates upon my being I unburden the pressures so released, Pyroclastic flows breath exfoliation on my Soul, Pealed, Freed Of that stench scorched into oblivion I relish in the torment of those below Freshly parched earth as lungs burn breath, "Fallen misery descends in singed flesh" I release the Feathers weighted down Haemorrhaging as crimson flows to the Stems,  expanding into the beauty Of death, I am Released, Liberated, Redeemed Upon the fallen as I step upon ash "Bones, death, rebirth" As no longer afflicted, I am once again blanched as purest darkness Is Neither black or grey "But lucid white" "As purity is only clean" "I am purity of darkness" And the taints of humanity are flakes upon Silent statues upon the ground, I am malevolent incarnate..
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Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Purity Of The Darkness
strawberry frenchfries dipped in chocolate fondue. cry me an 8 oz cup of water when i step on you with my giant blue shoe. dance through the forest with gnomes stapled to your shoulders. hide your foil gum wrappers in manila folders. left and right. front to back, oxygen in the atmosphere may lack. pluto and jupiter intertwine when night falls. orange and green leather sewn to your ragdoll. licking the excess frito crumbs from under your fingernails, eyes pealed to the scenery of wacky inmates in jail. selfish yellow and blue fish yelling at dr. seuss, reading books in sunrooms drinking orange juice. camera flashes and ripped dollar bills, making chocolate pancakes on top of cherry hills. hazy eyes drowning into a dream, winter nights as cold as ben&jerrys; ice cream. red hand chasing numbers on a clock, movement of legs turns muscles into rock. acid drops from black heart clouds falling onto driveways. little kids on scooters munching on happy meals while saddened by the loss of sunrays. 23 degrees celsius and shine forcing itself through. ice cream trucks and roadraged humans trying to get through. bumble bee roads with lines and street signs, teens boredum, smoking dope, drinking ***** getting fines. police on the prowl everyday, every night, seeing through lies, keeping their sight wide-open like a mouth in surprise. fettuchini alfredo at fancy restaurants. ice cold water knocked over on a ladys lap. words missing letters, conversations missing sound. apples and basketballs losing shape and sense of round. flat chested skinny ******* slipping through cracks in wooden floors, obese transexuals getting stuck in between doors. puzzle pieces glued to the top of a bald head, veins appear blue but blood is red. blowing kisses, blowing out candles cats,dogs,birds wearing sandals.
0
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:27 PM UTC
a wonderful mind
strawberry frenchfries dipped in chocolate fondue. cry me an 8 oz cup of water when i step on you with my giant blue shoe. dance through the forest with gnomes stapled to your shoulders. hide your foil gum wrappers in manila folders. left and right. front to back, oxygen in the atmosphere may lack. pluto and jupiter intertwine when night falls. orange and green leather sewn to your ragdoll. licking the excess frito crumbs from under your fingernails, eyes pealed to the scenery of wacky inmates in jail. selfish yellow and blue fish yelling at dr. seuss, reading books in sunrooms drinking orange juice. camera flashes and ripped dollar bills, making chocolate pancakes on top of cherry hills. hazy eyes drowning into a dream, winter nights as cold as ben&jerrys; ice cream. red hand chasing numbers on a clock, movement of legs turns muscles into rock. acid drops from black heart clouds falling onto driveways. little kids on scooters munching on happy meals while saddened by the loss of sunrays. 23 degrees celsius and shine forcing itself through. ice cream trucks and roadraged humans trying to get through. bumble bee roads with lines and street signs, teens boredum, smoking dope, drinking ***** getting fines. police on the prowl everyday, every night, seeing through lies, keeping their sight wide-open like a mouth in surprise. fettuchini alfredo at fancy restaurants. ice cold water knocked over on a ladys lap. words missing letters, conversations missing sound. apples and basketballs losing shape and sense of round. flat chested skinny ******* slipping through cracks in wooden floors, obese transexuals getting stuck in between doors. puzzle pieces glued to the top of a bald head, veins appear blue but blood is red. blowing kisses, blowing out candles cats,dogs,birds wearing sandals.
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36
Storms awakened me From my sleep early this morn Rain came pouring down. I was scared there for a while, Lightning flashed and thunder pealed. { Weasel }
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Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Storms (Tanka)
I used to love the sound of rain The way it pittered on a windows pain; The way it patterned on a cobbled lane I used to love the rain. You pealed across my sky like thunder While I, like lightning, zigged and zagged in blunder; On darkened night you aimed to plunder But this golden heart had been torn asunder. I can't account for the ways I've healed Or which battles on wounded knee I've kneeled; It's seen on every battle field The way I've fought, yelled, whispered, & keeled.
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
Valkyrie
*"What is your name?" Her Dark Eyes Reminded Me Of The Ocean At Dusk. They Were Dark, Deep, And Endless; Harboring Many Secrets. "My name is Sydney." My Lips Pealed Back Into A Smile Even Though Her Expression Was Quite Puzzled. "Sydney?" She Smiled.. The Sweetest Smile I Have Ever Seen. She Turned To Her Friend Who Had The Same Dark Eyes. He Smiled Too. The Corners Of His Eyes Morphed Into Sharp Points As His Plumb Cheeks Stretched Upwards. "We shall give you a new name." She Turned To Him. "What shall we name her?" More Of Their Friends Gathered Around Them. One Boy Approached The Group Which Had Congregated Around Me. "Let's name her Maudie." "Yes! That is perfect. Do you know what that means?" She Softly Stroked My Hair As Her Dark Eyes Locked Onto Mine. "It means Rose. Beautiful Rose." I Smiled, My New Friends Watched As She Took My Hands. "Maudie... Don't Ever Forget That This Is Your Name. Never Forget Who You Are."*
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
Never Forget
My hands reach for you now but your so far away what happened to the girl I use to know is she in there is she in there waiting to be let free. It seems this person is kidnapping you dear and My fear is I'll never save you babe. You've been taken over by hate my love You've been taken over by Greed The girl I knew before would care more about Time well Spent or sitting under a sunset and smoking a ciggerete slow This woman I see doing her hair in the mirror is far from the woman I use to know. I'm sorry I have to go now I can't see you in turmoil and try to save your soul I tried to ask the Lord to watch over you but you pushed his hand aside. You know it's a brutal ride being inlove with a woman who isnt inlove with herself. I wanted to be your great escape but you ended up pulling a great escape your heart faded away and your makeup pealed off and your real face showed I wanted to save you before before your own demons consumed you I wanted to be your Constantine But I guess I didnt reach you in time. I hope I see you in the next life and I get another chance But maybe its just fate to keep crossing paths and really never figuring out where things went bad.
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Farewell
The morning tide, crashing ‘gainst the shores, Sounds of seagulls and distant winds tickling ears – Whispering messages of painted portraits, laid over endless landscapes, Poetry for the eyes, explained with a rising sun beyond the cresting oceans… Splattering the skies with a beautiful fire in shades of orange, red, and violet – Bringing illumination to the wondrous adventures sought each day, ‘Tis this place that feeling gives meaning to living - ‘Tis this place, beneath the pealed layers of existence… The Essence of Beauty dwells.
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
Essence of Beauty
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Till, ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men! It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And in despair I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said: “For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead; nor doth he sleep! The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men!”
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1.6k
Christmas Bells
The wood was beneath, warped With age, as the worms crept Falling into the gapping chasm Of petrified air. Ingested upon Shattered bone, was the ragged Wanting beneath. The stone was polished, kept As if newly left. Never was Their needing for never were Clothes tattered, they dined Upon pigeon heart and entails Of pedigree cat. The Woman, of both below and Above, vested wording to the Ever breaking of parched skin and Bone. Those of wood and worm, clawing Ascending through dirt, what was Left of flesh pealed upon roots and Stone, now only ragged cloth and ***** bone. Why must we of the earth suffer, The indignity of dirt while those Above treated differently, we are the same are we not, death is Universal rot. Then those of marble spoke up, You are not like us for we are of Death but we are of flesh, Parched but whole, we are of The clean, while you are of Earth festering and rot. "Silence" "Still your airless voices" "Each has a valid point" "But my children of decay let me explain" My children of earth you exhume Yourselves each day, this shows Strength for the journey you take, Hardening you resolve. You are neither filth or below, Your strength is what others Should look up to, you are pure Of the mortal coils of flesh you Are flawless in death. My children of stone, what can Be said,  you cling to life, but That time has pasted, you Linger upon flesh that is but a moment from dust. Time in earth has made your Brothers and Sisters strong, While yours are weakened The weaknesses of above, my Commands are simple their Must never be two, death is Singular we decay as one. What was pasted, those of marble Stripped of parched decadence, They were now pure as those below. Feast as others on that which crawls Nourished by mother earth. The woman of bone, wood and stone, Was  a fair keeper and the only Marble that graced was that which Named those who slept below, They were pure of mortal coils They where the dead of bone.
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
The Woman Of Bone, Wood & Stone
The wood was beneath, warped With age, as the worms crept Falling into the gapping chasm Of petrified air. Ingested upon Shattered bone, was the ragged Wanting beneath. The stone was polished, kept As if newly left. Never was Their needing for never were Clothes tattered, they dined Upon pigeon heart and entails Of pedigree cat. The Woman, of both below and Above, vested wording to the Ever breaking of parched skin and Bone. Those of wood and worm, clawing Ascending through dirt, what was Left of flesh pealed upon roots and Stone, now only ragged cloth and ***** bone. Why must we of the earth suffer, The indignity of dirt while those Above treated differently, we are the same are we not, death is Universal rot. Then those of marble spoke up, You are not like us for we are of Death but we are of flesh, Parched but whole, we are of The clean, while you are of Earth festering and rot. "Silence" "Still your airless voices" "Each has a valid point" "But my children of decay let me explain" My children of earth you exhume Yourselves each day, this shows Strength for the journey you take, Hardening you resolve. You are neither filth or below, Your strength is what others Should look up to, you are pure Of the mortal coils of flesh you Are flawless in death. My children of stone, what can Be said,  you cling to life, but That time has pasted, you Linger upon flesh that is but a moment from dust. Time in earth has made your Brothers and Sisters strong, While yours are weakened The weaknesses of above, my Commands are simple their Must never be two, death is Singular we decay as one. What was pasted, those of marble Stripped of parched decadence, They were now pure as those below. Feast as others on that which crawls Nourished by mother earth. The woman of bone, wood and stone, Was  a fair keeper and the only Marble that graced was that which Named those who slept below, They were pure of mortal coils They where the dead of bone.
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68
many interludes of laughter pealed from a jovial kookaburra who sat high on the elm tree's branch gaily chortling to himself as the dawning sun rose of such merry tidings the bird did bring uplifting was his joy ###### he'd given the new day a jolliness the mood of much glee making his chuckling tones the sound great to listen to enlivening the heart's spirits with a bright awakening call ever so happy in the morning staging
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
Morning Staging (Reverse Double Etheree Poem)
Its always in goodbye we taste what is the essense of that scar called love. Pain in nature and no words can capture remorse as well as a milepost in a reaview of thought. It was there we togather once called home now like a tombstone it stands a marker of what was never to be. Fracture of heart and bitterness my seal. Im the leftovers of another we can cleanse this logic or simply say ***** it all and regress. Forever a lie to the young and a curse to the old. Has it burned this earth and killed me to all that dare to know what I could never explain.? A dance of years now a thought no drug has yet to erase. Pills aside your drug was the best poisen ive known even with another I know paradise was a cancer ive long since left behind yet a simple moment can make me slide into a vice that will see me fall for the last time till next. Im the clown that circus left behind. Now a skeleton for home I ask why leaving takes a milestone and emptyness a downpour as my desert has long stayed dry. Read the riddle like a oinion pealed only more layers remain. hell has welcome thought for ive found more toture here. Voices haunt my thoughts as emptyness thrives inmy existance. Its has misreble as when we knew each others love please drown so I can breath life into this wornout frame one last time. Winter's chill reminds me of what we never had yet again. People often question what has no meaning to begin with. As for me I avoid its poisen a scared child hidden in shadow of a lesser man. Nothing stands as a reminder of pages wasted in promise of a day that never came. Sometimes I view that place were we were more than a bad memory and a traggic vice. Sometimes I yern only for end to what has never been allowed to begin. The worst prison of all is the mind.
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Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
The Clown You View Is Never What I See
Its always in goodbye we taste what is the essense of that scar called love. Pain in nature and no words can capture remorse as well as a milepost in a reaview of thought. It was there we togather once called home now like a tombstone it stands a marker of what was never to be. Fracture of heart and bitterness my seal. Im the leftovers of another we can cleanse this logic or simply say ***** it all and regress. Forever a lie to the young and a curse to the old. Has it burned this earth and killed me to all that dare to know what I could never explain.? A dance of years now a thought no drug has yet to erase. Pills aside your drug was the best poisen ive known even with another I know paradise was a cancer ive long since left behind yet a simple moment can make me slide into a vice that will see me fall for the last time till next. Im the clown that circus left behind. Now a skeleton for home I ask why leaving takes a milestone and emptyness a downpour as my desert has long stayed dry. Read the riddle like a oinion pealed only more layers remain. hell has welcome thought for ive found more toture here. Voices haunt my thoughts as emptyness thrives inmy existance. Its has misreble as when we knew each others love please drown so I can breath life into this wornout frame one last time. Winter's chill reminds me of what we never had yet again. People often question what has no meaning to begin with. As for me I avoid its poisen a scared child hidden in shadow of a lesser man. Nothing stands as a reminder of pages wasted in promise of a day that never came. Sometimes I view that place were we were more than a bad memory and a traggic vice. Sometimes I yern only for end to what has never been allowed to begin. The worst prison of all is the mind.
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28
Dimly the light above me flickers, feeble, like my heart. Dust sparkles, diamond like in the fleeting beams of cold lights. Antiqued books, with yellowed pages and worn leather skins, cratered by clumsy fingers, line the dark oaken bookshelves. A fine veil of dust covers their naked skins. The walls, they were once beautiful, exotic vines crept up their lenghts, punctuated by vivid blooms. But now, now they bare a natural face. Garments pealed and faded blooms rest, fragile and wrinkled, at her feet. A dark, gray room in the final throws of death. No life survives, no light... no pulse... no thing, nothing save a single red rose. Summer Spring Winter Fall evermore she blooms. Her thick oily petals are smeared into the glass. she was there before I came. She will be there when I'm gone.
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Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
A Rose Sits in My Window Sill
My terror grows with each passing night, As slow, steady darkness steals away sight. Footsteps and whispers add to my fright — Is there an end to such desperate plight? How long, too long, till dawn’s early light! I clutch my candle in trembling hand, And watch the shadows dance to understand What I envision as its light expands Through the room and down the hall’s span. There lingers a vision, diaphanous and pale, Shifting and shuddering, as though it were frail, Whispering softly a most horrible wail. Eyes no more than twin black abysses, The vision approaches to beg final kisses. Heavy, so heavy, my heart thuds in my chest. From hall to room the visitant creeps, Upon my mortal form it silently seeps. Gliding in silence, not walking — not quite — Closer it comes with its sulfurous blight. My eyes are held tight — can’t even blink right. Lips part, jaw drops, revealing a black maw; The specter extends one moon-gray claw, Caressing my cheek with a grave-cold paw. My throat constricts — no breath do I draw. It locks my eyes with hell’s black gaze, Until moonlight strikes in golden rays. The phantasm shudders and starts to blaze, Struggles again its arm to raise — But from the light it reels in malaise. And heavy, so heavy, my heart thuds in my chest. The hallucination retreats, as though pressed, Back to the doorway — its intent suppressed — Shrinking into the dark hall, a lost contest, Driven by a moonbeam so blessed, Whose gentle light coursed to my relief And unmasked the fear beneath belief — The frightful soul-stealing thief That stalked and grieved me, if only brief. Now I breathe, and calm my soul: “Twas nothing but a myth… a troll.” Then thunder pealed a mighty toll. Wind brought rain and a thundercloud — Again that wail, this time loud. Oh heavy, so heavy, my heart… no more…
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Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 3:20 PM UTC
HEAVY
My terror grows with each passing night, As slow, steady darkness steals away sight. Footsteps and whispers add to my fright — Is there an end to such desperate plight? How long, too long, till dawn’s early light! I clutch my candle in trembling hand, And watch the shadows dance to understand What I envision as its light expands Through the room and down the hall’s span. There lingers a vision, diaphanous and pale, Shifting and shuddering, as though it were frail, Whispering softly a most horrible wail. Eyes no more than twin black abysses, The vision approaches to beg final kisses. Heavy, so heavy, my heart thuds in my chest. From hall to room the visitant creeps, Upon my mortal form it silently seeps. Gliding in silence, not walking — not quite — Closer it comes with its sulfurous blight. My eyes are held tight — can’t even blink right. Lips part, jaw drops, revealing a black maw; The specter extends one moon-gray claw, Caressing my cheek with a grave-cold paw. My throat constricts — no breath do I draw. It locks my eyes with hell’s black gaze, Until moonlight strikes in golden rays. The phantasm shudders and starts to blaze, Struggles again its arm to raise — But from the light it reels in malaise. And heavy, so heavy, my heart thuds in my chest. The hallucination retreats, as though pressed, Back to the doorway — its intent suppressed — Shrinking into the dark hall, a lost contest, Driven by a moonbeam so blessed, Whose gentle light coursed to my relief And unmasked the fear beneath belief — The frightful soul-stealing thief That stalked and grieved me, if only brief. Now I breathe, and calm my soul: “Twas nothing but a myth… a troll.” Then thunder pealed a mighty toll. Wind brought rain and a thundercloud — Again that wail, this time loud. Oh heavy, so heavy, my heart… no more…
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44
A sip of alcohol by any means Unbuttons her jeans A tightly rolled **** Will open her legs to any folk For her lips are no longer sealed With alcohol soaked breath & Slowly her clothes are pealed Dignity choked to death
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Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 7:11 PM UTC
Choked
Standing lonely in a crowd Feelings severed, screaming loud; Heart rejected, growing cold Trusting ways begin to fold Waking eyes find life revealed, Wonder when the dirge was pealed; Love was captured, tears ran wild From the young but learning child Finding life like solitaire Some that need but none that care, Most that take but none that give All that die and none that live Reaching out to no one there Leaving all your feelings bare; Soon to nothing they will grind Leaving but a shell behind Looking ’round this empty sea Battered shells stand facing me, Standing near but none in reach Each alone on private beach
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Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
Battered Shells
I cover myself in the sky, and fluff the clouds to rest. The sun kissed me this morning with its golden ray. I pealed my eyes open to vista a beautiful mess. It's raining bewitching butterflies today. I smile at the willow reaching down to hug me. The lilies wave at me in excitement. I take a dive into the shimmering sea. I feel the breeze caress, and whisper, but its silent. I ate the sweetest berries, juice draining from my lips. I rode a unicorn, her name is blue magic. I danced on mountains, I did cartwheels and back flips. I hanged from star to star in the great galactic. I am Queen of the universe, the planets gather round. I think its a rainbow, The sky's colorful spew. I awake in the arms of a love that's profound. I never have bad dreams when I'm with you. I never, Never ever! I never have bad dreams when I'm with you.
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Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
I never have bad dreams when I'm with you
I am from willow trees and Black Eyed Susan's From pealed wallpaper bedroom walls and Barbie Dolls I am from small night lights and late night terrors From Shepard's Pie and yellow American Cheese I am from the Victorian grey and half green painted house on a four cornered road. From T.V. tag with my brothers and cousins. From Veronica, my only day care friend. I am from Disney movies and The Wiggles. From The Game Of Life and Spyro From baby sized microwaved pizzas and slumber parties at Grandmas I am from my Grandmother silver roster hair Her eagerness to make everyone happy, and her thoughtfulness. From field hockey games and fudgesicle’s I’m from every possible place in my dreams and reality. From not knowing what will come next.
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Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
Where I'm From
You're rotten. You're horrible. The feeling of insecurity descends upon me like the angel of death descended upon the Egyptians. Depression, suicidal thoughts come to me the way that the answers to incredibly hard math problems come to geniuses. I fight to push them away but they cut through my sanity with claws razor sharp. The innocence of my childhood has faded into the moral corruption of adolensence. The purity of girlhood has been slashed by the hardships of teenage life. I try to keep my eyes pealed for the target but alas I'm losing focus and am hearing the screams of other's souls. I hear someone moan, I realize the moan came from deep within me. This wasn't a nightmare anymore it was sheer reality. Reality had settled my fate.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 8:12 AM UTC
Reality
At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, On board of the Cumberland, sloop-of-war; And at times from the fortress across the bay The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle blast From the camp on the shore. Then far away to the south uprose A little feather of snow-white smoke, And we knew that the iron ship of our foes Was steadily steering its course To try the force Of our ribs of oak. Down upon us heavily runs, Silent and sullen, the floating fort; Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, And leaps the terrible death, With fiery breath, From each open port. We are not idle, but send her straight Defiance back in a full broadside! As hail rebounds from a roof of slate, Rebounds our heavier hail From each iron scale Of the monster’s hide. “Strike your flag!” the rebel cries, In his arrogant old plantation strain. “Never!” our gallant Morris replies; “It is better to sink than to yield!” And the whole air pealed With the cheers of our men. Then, like a kraken huge and black, She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp! Down went the Cumberland all a wrack, With a sudden shudder of death, And the cannon’s breath For her dying gasp. Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay, Still floated our flag at the mainmast head. Lord, how beautiful was Thy day! Every waft of the air Was a whisper of prayer, Or a dirge for the dead. ** brave hearts that went down in the seas Ye are at peace in the troubled stream; ** brave land! with hearts like these, Thy flag, that is rent in twain, Shall be one again, And without a seam!
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The Cumberland
At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, On board of the Cumberland, sloop-of-war; And at times from the fortress across the bay The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle blast From the camp on the shore. Then far away to the south uprose A little feather of snow-white smoke, And we knew that the iron ship of our foes Was steadily steering its course To try the force Of our ribs of oak. Down upon us heavily runs, Silent and sullen, the floating fort; Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, And leaps the terrible death, With fiery breath, From each open port. We are not idle, but send her straight Defiance back in a full broadside! As hail rebounds from a roof of slate, Rebounds our heavier hail From each iron scale Of the monster’s hide. “Strike your flag!” the rebel cries, In his arrogant old plantation strain. “Never!” our gallant Morris replies; “It is better to sink than to yield!” And the whole air pealed With the cheers of our men. Then, like a kraken huge and black, She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp! Down went the Cumberland all a wrack, With a sudden shudder of death, And the cannon’s breath For her dying gasp. Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay, Still floated our flag at the mainmast head. Lord, how beautiful was Thy day! Every waft of the air Was a whisper of prayer, Or a dirge for the dead. ** brave hearts that went down in the seas Ye are at peace in the troubled stream; ** brave land! with hearts like these, Thy flag, that is rent in twain, Shall be one again, And without a seam!
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She walks a path with one eye open She follows a path with one eye closed Connecting the strings that float around Like caterpillars Dangling From trees Squirming on their silk She crawls underneath them Un-wanting to not disturb the dance Until she smells the wildflowers. The other eye closes Still crawling the path Luckily, The bugs have warn it down enough To follow with her hands and nose. When she felt the wildflowers on her face She opened that eye Excitedly she pealed open the other. When she heard nothing She was amazed In the distance she could see waves crashing through the wildflowers Once again her world was absent of light. This time she held her breath. She laid in those wildflowers For a long time. So long her fingers and toes sprouted roots pulling her deep inside the soil, Grounding her.
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May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 5:54 PM UTC
The Path
White are the far-off plains, and white The fading forests grow; The wind dies out along the height, And denser still the snow, A gathering weight on roof and tree, Falls down scarce audibly. The road before me smooths and fills Apace, and all about The fences dwindle, and the hills Are blotted slowly out; The naked trees loom spectrally Into the dim white sky. The meadows and far-sheeted streams Lie still without a sound; Like some soft minister of dreams The snow-fall hoods me round; In wood and water, earth and air, A silence everywhere. Save when at lonely intervals Some farmer's sleigh, urged on, With rustling runners and sharp bells, Swings by me and is gone; Or from the empty waste I hear A sound remote and clear; The barking of a dog, or call To cattle, sharply pealed, Borne echoing from some wayside stall Or barnyard far a-field; Then all is silent, and the snow Falls, settling soft and slow. The evening deepens, and the gray Folds closer earth and sky; The world seems shrouded far away; Its noises sleep, and I, As secret as yon buried stream, Plod dumbly on, and dream. Archibald Lampman
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Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
Snow - by Archibald Lampman
If I grew my hair to my knees and dyed it to the color of the wind, would you still recognize him If I pealed away at my fingers to make them look thinner, would you still be able to remember them If I never walked into the sun again and took an eraser to my skin, just to be a bit lighter, would that be enough to disguise him What if I even change the way I speak, a whole octive higher or perhaps lower, would his voice still be familiar What if I make myself shorter or taller, with reconstructive surgery, do you think then you can be fooled by him But what if I break my nose and reshape it    Take my lips and deflate them       Gouge my eyes to replace them Would that make a difference What if I told you that you never had to see him again, that he can be different, he can be better, he could be anything Would you believe in him No... But thanks for trying
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
The Nebraskan
They had a policy in the school, which was simple; silence in class when you hear a harmonica. It worked: every class, and every hallway, there was silence. The name was blacked out-expelled, no, found "incapable" as he refused to be silent when the teacher sounded the single note on the harmonica. Incompatible, is what they called it when a student was removed without the formalities of expulsion. What no one knew was that the tone of the single harmonica note filled him with dread. It took him right back to that terrible day, that he's tried so hard to block out of his mind. To block the painful memories, all he could think to do whenever the note pealed out in class was to start screaming loudly in an attempt to down it all. Loudly saying anything, whatever came to his mind. Which is why he was expelled with "incompatibility", it was just so unfair, so now while the rest of his classmates set in classrooms he set in the park across the street. Wondering what to do, wondering how soon the news of his "incompatibility" would reach his uncle. With all this going on, no one bothers to ask why he is like this. A rebel kid, always misunderstood, just some ****** scoundrel, a poor boy with no parents to teach him; being left with a drunk and abusive uncle. He knows he can't go to that cruel home, so he just walks with no where to go, suspended from life and expelled by the world. Now a man left with a bunch of regrets from all his bad mistakes, no one wants to hear his apology, they would rather him rot in that prison cell.
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Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
Harmonica
They had a policy in the school, which was simple; silence in class when you hear a harmonica. It worked: every class, and every hallway, there was silence. The name was blacked out-expelled, no, found "incapable" as he refused to be silent when the teacher sounded the single note on the harmonica. Incompatible, is what they called it when a student was removed without the formalities of expulsion. What no one knew was that the tone of the single harmonica note filled him with dread. It took him right back to that terrible day, that he's tried so hard to block out of his mind. To block the painful memories, all he could think to do whenever the note pealed out in class was to start screaming loudly in an attempt to down it all. Loudly saying anything, whatever came to his mind. Which is why he was expelled with "incompatibility", it was just so unfair, so now while the rest of his classmates set in classrooms he set in the park across the street. Wondering what to do, wondering how soon the news of his "incompatibility" would reach his uncle. With all this going on, no one bothers to ask why he is like this. A rebel kid, always misunderstood, just some ****** scoundrel, a poor boy with no parents to teach him; being left with a drunk and abusive uncle. He knows he can't go to that cruel home, so he just walks with no where to go, suspended from life and expelled by the world. Now a man left with a bunch of regrets from all his bad mistakes, no one wants to hear his apology, they would rather him rot in that prison cell.
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cotton clouds formed in such sky as frost shivered me so fingers chilled to warmth not met biting in the cold ground so hard no flower formed bring me summer bring me warm smell of grass so freshly cut can see a summer coming golden fields full the oil ..rapeseed sneeze a tissue feel hear young voices playing out screams of water splashed out loud bring me summer where smiles do form eating ice cream on ones lawn rays of sun do burn my back sleepy me ...to skin pealed back bring me summer as i freeze throw this coldest oh yes please soon be there not long to go summer feeling ...no more snow
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
Summer feeling