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"perceptive" poems
I am imperfect. I make mistakes. I am struggling to be perfect, but just like you, I tend to fail I am not okay. You are perceptive enough to know that much So why do you walk away Why do you respond in anger When what I say is not against you In fact it has nothing to do with you So why are you giving up on me I am trying to get better. I am trying to get to healthier state of mind. I have a long way to go, but I know the steps. I know myself better than you give me credit for. I do not expect you to fix me, but as my friend, I do expect you to stick around. I expect you to have a little faith in me. I need my friends more than ever Not to fix me, but just to be there I need to know I am not alone. I need to know that the people do not always leave, So, please I ask you with all that I have Don't give up on me.
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Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
Don't Give Up On Me
Beyond Comprehension. Brow furrowing. Thoughts arousing. Deep thoughts, Because of what. They had said. *"There is more to this, Open you eyes."* What could they mean? My world is different.. I have to be perceptive. It has been a long time, Since the wolf has been awakened. Since she has perceived, Her last memory. To open my eyes, To feel the situation. I must open my eyes. Perceive once more. Forevermore, Awaken the Wolf. Perception has returned..
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
Open my Eyes, Awaken the Wolf
The Orions, mysterious forces who contacts the witch, When She is ready to be sworn, In secret they teach Her how much the soul is rich, Some think they're are Goddesses, Spirits or even Norn, She studies all truths in secret, Energy is always knowledge, But due to humanity's key weakness, Their own Truth, Potential, they can't acknowledge! She studies Magik and Spirituality, Nothing more commoners hate: a shining light, Knowing witches didn't win often in history, Alone She stands, alone She became bright. Yet one day The Orions appear, For the Witch is now ready, She becomes Wise, all fears disappear, The Illumined path she travels; Perceptive and Steady. Truly when you are truly yourself, You see life's true beauty, And the Witch is forever blessed, One day... She will join the Orions, Becoming A Witch for Eternity
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
The Orions and The Witch
Eyes dance across , The wondering images alive. Visible to those, With a perceptive eye. Focusing on whats in sight, Figuring out the reaction. We are visible to those, With the eyes to see. We stand in plain sight, But are ignored by the tyrants. The ghouls, The thieves. Perception is everything, When it comes to seeing whats in front of you. With eyes to see, You are visible. Visible, As a canvas of vivid colours. Visible, As a storm dancing in. Visible, As a house burning with fire. Visible, As a mustang and his kin. We are Visible, We are the perception. That you see.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
Visible Perception
If I ever were to try and explain to someone how much I loved you I think they would be heartbroken too
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Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
Perceptive
baby boomers' education was creative back then everyone was so imaginative considering the economy was inactive our perspective isn't the perceptive. we were made from the earth's clay from our mother's conception day into the world we millennials came treated by parents like we are so lame. our technology is more advanced millennials are so very benevolent i guess it is such a bad expectation s/o to my ***** Richard Dawkins. they say back then we called friends we say today we text friends they say gas was worth 35¢ a gallon we say gas is worth $3.35¢ a gallon. they say we had black and white tvs we say ****** we got colored tvs but there is a paradigm masterpiece it just makes you stand to your feet. considering our generation escapades theirs created the existence of AIDS now we millennials are not to blame that is what made their time so lame.
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Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Comparison Poem of the Baby Boomers to the Baby Boomlets
My shoelaces flap side to side like one of those car-dealership inflatables arms- My veiny stompers pump puddles of pure procrastination from perceptive sprinting- Underneath the tune-buds, I cannot hear my sneakers scraping the scrap rocks of gravel- To my left- a hooting owl habitats itself in a hushed game of charades- To my right- a slick tree frog flies freely from a lofty leaf and lands in the lagoon- Elapsed images of elastic languages fill my mind with everlasting wisdom- Entertained by the watercolors, my canvas curdles and secedes the state of mind- Pressing harder- the curtain continues to close as I chase the condescending daylight- Pressing softer- the tuner in my temple turns into a terrorizing shriek from my tibia-
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Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Hindsight
Zoe was always a nymphic creature               God gifted prodigy   When she was three she already knew that                                        above her ecliptics                          jade eyes were shaped   as a gift to see within her strange Zephyr's soul                   there were       worlds unreachable to mortals                       indulging unconscious dance moves            she was performing      a play   finding her way through piercing sounds of animality and natural wilderness                             solely within her mind's eyes            then    shut deliberately just to prove to the thick jungle           to highly flowering sunflowers that her head locomotions are fully perceptive       her tiny hands touched the ground glistening streams of her hair had been long(ing) to touch her tiny bare heels in pace with every bonvivant little step forth                      she had been taken                                    O, Zoe you knew at three                                  That Zenith is the chosen point                                            to open up                                                      top portals                                                                 of deepest insight                                                        Zoe - there is a moving star                                                                       lit to praise                                                         returning to innoccence                                  Olympic                        sensible                smiling sweetheart          intuitive little one You could hear cracks and tremblings of every limb to limb                                                    clashed with dark humid soil and stones and crumbs on every ant trail every black beetle's step there every futuristic peregreen wizzy wings        Zing(ed)
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
Zoe and Zeus
Zoe was always a nymphic creature               God gifted prodigy   When she was three she already knew that                                        above her ecliptics                          jade eyes were shaped   as a gift to see within her strange Zephyr's soul                   there were       worlds unreachable to mortals                       indulging unconscious dance moves            she was performing      a play   finding her way through piercing sounds of animality and natural wilderness                             solely within her mind's eyes            then    shut deliberately just to prove to the thick jungle           to highly flowering sunflowers that her head locomotions are fully perceptive       her tiny hands touched the ground glistening streams of her hair had been long(ing) to touch her tiny bare heels in pace with every bonvivant little step forth                      she had been taken                                    O, Zoe you knew at three                                  That Zenith is the chosen point                                            to open up                                                      top portals                                                                 of deepest insight                                                        Zoe - there is a moving star                                                                       lit to praise                                                         returning to innoccence                                  Olympic                        sensible                smiling sweetheart          intuitive little one You could hear cracks and tremblings of every limb to limb                                                    clashed with dark humid soil and stones and crumbs on every ant trail every black beetle's step there every futuristic peregreen wizzy wings        Zing(ed)
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48
Life is a writhing swirl who's information is meaningful but the information does not exist for the purpose of being comprehended so it is only taken in and interpreted as well or as usefully as the perceptive devices. Nothing significant has a vendetta against the individual beings' happiness or success, though beings may appear as food or some other form of fulfillment to other beings. Beings will view other beings as their appetites would view any other thing. No one can exist in the view of another. Don't expect others to view you as you do. You are NOT their center, only your own. Everybody thinks everybody else is insufferably selfish and everybody is right. Love is interesting though. More on that after more data is collected.
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
Field Notes after years among animals, plants, bacteria, viruses, and fungi
We are all touch but no desire For in each other's arms We are blissful With no wish, no requirement To take it further. We make love without making love My base lusts sated In the caress of your long limbs Your hair soft in my fingers Lips brushing cheeks and hands And we entwine in each other At home in the scent of warm skin. A deeper love than I ever knew We are inside of each other Without secrets or falsehoods Our souls naked To our perceptive eyes. We are utterly beautiful In our private universe Born of night and long drives And words.
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Non-Consummation
forward forward forward going somewhere moving forward whether progressing or regressing growing or unlearning coming or going living, dying everyone believes they are moving towards something and as everything happens all at once each perceptive reality is entirely different than any other and each consciousness travels, and does, and is. each consciousness believes it has a purpose or a path. the purpose is not to see into nor plan the future. from the civilian to the hero tv shows and movies have consistently glorified the ability to see visions of the future generally this is followed by someone trying to prevent the happenings in said vision from becoming reality and distinctly failing because they "saw into" the future that their own energy influenced but the true super power is to be able to look into the past. to prevent the omitting of details and data to avoid a rewrite of our conscious interaction with this planet not to white out the chapters that bear the truth in the textbooks to recall history so it does not repeat itself my question is then do people disguise the wrongdoings of those hidden by the passing of time? because they are ashamed of the mistakes of their ancestors pasts? because they are ashamed of their participation in past consciousness's? because they are ashamed of the atrocities humans have inflicted upon each other and themselves as well as their home planet since the beginning of recorded time here? or do those who have the power to omit and hide history purposely rewrite it? do they mask the pains of the past so the rest of us will forget? so that even they can forget? so their next consciousness can unknowingly, while predestined, have hand in crimes against the world all the same as committed in the lost past? how many times has someone written these words or a similar combination only to delete the post? burn the pages? backspace the message? stop themselves from speaking them aloud? cover the symbols? pass out of conscious living mid sentence? lose them to a past lifetime? how many times has this cycled through the same way? how many times have I been me? how many times have you been me? how many times have I been anyone? how many times have I been? is there a rhythm or is it all as scattered and random as the thoughts that bring you to this kind of an understanding of the habit of misunderstanding? the kind of thoughts that bring you back to the birds nest because you were too early for even the worm? they will all catch up eventually after all they all think theyre moving forward and they don't even know where they've been. they don't even know that they've been.
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Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
I've been
forward forward forward going somewhere moving forward whether progressing or regressing growing or unlearning coming or going living, dying everyone believes they are moving towards something and as everything happens all at once each perceptive reality is entirely different than any other and each consciousness travels, and does, and is. each consciousness believes it has a purpose or a path. the purpose is not to see into nor plan the future. from the civilian to the hero tv shows and movies have consistently glorified the ability to see visions of the future generally this is followed by someone trying to prevent the happenings in said vision from becoming reality and distinctly failing because they "saw into" the future that their own energy influenced but the true super power is to be able to look into the past. to prevent the omitting of details and data to avoid a rewrite of our conscious interaction with this planet not to white out the chapters that bear the truth in the textbooks to recall history so it does not repeat itself my question is then do people disguise the wrongdoings of those hidden by the passing of time? because they are ashamed of the mistakes of their ancestors pasts? because they are ashamed of their participation in past consciousness's? because they are ashamed of the atrocities humans have inflicted upon each other and themselves as well as their home planet since the beginning of recorded time here? or do those who have the power to omit and hide history purposely rewrite it? do they mask the pains of the past so the rest of us will forget? so that even they can forget? so their next consciousness can unknowingly, while predestined, have hand in crimes against the world all the same as committed in the lost past? how many times has someone written these words or a similar combination only to delete the post? burn the pages? backspace the message? stop themselves from speaking them aloud? cover the symbols? pass out of conscious living mid sentence? lose them to a past lifetime? how many times has this cycled through the same way? how many times have I been me? how many times have you been me? how many times have I been anyone? how many times have I been? is there a rhythm or is it all as scattered and random as the thoughts that bring you to this kind of an understanding of the habit of misunderstanding? the kind of thoughts that bring you back to the birds nest because you were too early for even the worm? they will all catch up eventually after all they all think theyre moving forward and they don't even know where they've been. they don't even know that they've been.
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56
my mother always told me i was a different kind of smart the street kind the deep kind that saw the world as art understanding and perceptive sharp and young and bold determined and protective never doing what they're told a wild spirit an intellect with too many modest bones a beautiful magnificent gem hidden beneath stones
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Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
smart
from the balcony view, I see my youth. half thrown to dust, and half of recovery. I see the rich among the solitude, and the dirt on young feet. I see smiles of ignorance, young ignorance to fade with age. and the white collars comporting in peace, completely aware of the tilted lives held. the big to eat their derelicts, and the small with intense perceptive. from this balcony view, I see our traffic, going absolutely nowhere.
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Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Balcony View
her eyes never still - trace smooth arcs over the scene, observe everything
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
perceptive
In your arms Just two days ago but the feeling’s already leaving I was bent out of shape I was dry heaving on my own stupid emotions so I wasn’t able to burn the vision of you in my mind so hot that it stuck stuck into me like a point in a ***** turning the turbine and molding the muck of my reality, in my conscious so clear it separates from this one from the great spasm called space and time created by… I don't know why, but, life sometimes separates the score from the assist. and now i can’t resist to list the ball from the bat the land from the sea the you from the…… too corny. I hope that I don’t seem too pathetic, I’m just too empathetic, and I need to put this to rest: to me, I'm afraid we might be like that bird who had flown from The nest, and had his body broken by the nets seizing the life from his chest. aHH and now how I seem to sling with a piece of string a metaphor back around to tie the knot around that bird who got caught cuz Metaphors and me are a package deal. they allow me to feel. And in my sweaty palms. I felt the life leave after having expected that it would, yet still also hoping that it might not. But it did. And everything should be ok but it’s not. And I should feel relived but I don’t. And I should be excited for what’s next but I just feel sad.
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Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
If it weren't for metaphors I would not be as perceptive, or ****** If It weren't for ****** I would not be as perceptive of metaphors.
a desolate deception of hopeless self expression a perceptive inception of artistic retention is this a conversation? or a list of movie quotes? pop cultures ascension to our first world dimension feel the tension... feel the pulling of the mind as we spit rhymes about hate crimes ignored for an episode of Family Guy is this truly the vision of the revolution of rhythm cause it seems more like derision or apathetic decision speaking of dismantling systems when we're all caught up in them when will we be finished? when we get off our ***** and take molotovs to tyranny instead of crying in beer glasses will that amend the cracks in foundation or just be a punchline we take breaks in the morning noon and nighttime and we havent been fine in a long time with cops murdering and wars being waged we're more concerned with grocery lines and making a good wage lets end currency cause its holding us back and let our abilities have the first crack spread the wealth of the knowledge of a skill or a trade help those who are enfeebled to make a way and do it because its the right thing to do not because you want a soul indebted to you property is robbery its as simple as that so raise your black flag and lets take freedom back
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Improper Property
We are on this Colossal crystal ball Holds secrets Of this universe Its origin unknown Maybe it Carried life forms From all planets Multiple universes A microscopic replica Of the macroscopic universe Secret origins Our minds unable to investigate Visions not perceptive Lacks the depth Cannot read from the crystal ball History is concealed At its core Forces which created this Was aware not to reveal much The crystal ball narrates In its mystical waves Only for the select few In harmony, can decipher The mystery of the crystal ball Life will continue
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
Crystal Ball
Making manic impersonations On a momentary scale We ride on the echo of cymbals divine Decanting data into philosophic wine Perceptive perspective manifesting matrices Unknown -- Uncontrollable, undeniable, imminent & Haphazardly perfect; The essence of our yesterdays & tomorrows Etched, in passing, into the Particulate framework -- Momentarily -- & yet -- Eternally -- Manifestations cloaked in the veil of time, Laced with intentions self-concocted, The tides exchange, Endlessly blurring the line between Creator and Created
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
Creation
Education is a right, not a privilege. Everyone should not be deprived of knowledge, But in times of crisis, We all have different stories. Our freedom has not ceased, And there's no need for academic freeze. We can still choose whether or not We go to school or not. It is true that this are hard times, But we should not let education decline. And it is true that the system lacks strategy, But it is up to us to learn more effectively. Teachers must also be prudent and perceptive, To make the learning system effective and constructive. Remember not all students have the same capacity, But we must embrace the new normal with tenacity.
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Oct 13, 2020
Oct 13, 2020 at 9:22 AM UTC
New Normal Education
Current events are conducive with nonchalant seeming pace When future springs surprises with time I will learn to face Cheery is current subsistence and freewill so far I propound Confines once start stifling I may break newer ground Perceptive mind is still active infinite inspirations all about If my illusions start dissipating new pastures I would scout Resources are just adequate for me to earn daily bread In days of desolate penury will take what fate’s spread Traversed I have distances to seek serenity for my mind Treks in future if improbable then peace within I will find Environs are lush and verdant their magic for one to behold As autumn spreads it’s magic with different shades of gold Realism is a confusing passage, through many an abyss and ridge Each nuance to be vied aptly while coming to cross any bridge
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Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
Ephemeral Passages
Lakes and oceans and blue seas All alike your body waves Transitioning every second Holding whales by your knees Mountains and cliffs and hills Ginormous how your body weighs Descending every second Shaking hot lava off for thrills Galaxies and planets and stars Cuddling your minute existence Plummeting every second Making forever feel like daunting hours Us and me and you Destroying nothing and everything Perceptive every second In constant debt to our bodies that's due
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Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 3:15 AM UTC
Out of body experience
Walk into the auditorium just to see the band on stage… I swallow my spit, my nerves, and my pride. Oh, you are talented, dear, Because I sit between two of my best friends, and yet, I feel completely alone in this room full of people. Because the only things I see are brown hair and a gray shirt. Because all I am aware of is your goofy grin and saxophone, and The way your lips part when you laugh still makes my heart shiver. I’m begging just to see your face once. To be reminded of the way that lights make your eyes Look different every time, Picking out the specks of blue, green, and gray As if your irises were a kaleidoscope… My mind suddenly feels perceptive of every emotion, And from across the stage and stadium seats, I feel your eyes avoiding mine, But I cannot break this cold stare of heartbreak And the needles that caress my spine. Although my brain is unwelcoming, Memories are flooding my head… Reminding me that once, you held me close, Telling me things I shouldn’t have believed, Holding my hand Telling me I’m not damaged Inviting me into your world Reassuring me it was okay And yanking it all out from under me. And everyone stands for the convocation, I’m thanking the stars for this opportunity, Because right now it’s socially acceptable. It’s okay that I stare at you and let my heart beat fast, Because you are on stage, And I’m just one in the crowd. But I always was, wasn’t I? Just another one in the crowd? Another float in your parade of heartbreaks. It’s okay, my heart is mended, Please, just look my direction… My mind is not sure of anything, But everything else is, Because we finally just made Eye contact.
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Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
Eye Contact
Walk into the auditorium just to see the band on stage… I swallow my spit, my nerves, and my pride. Oh, you are talented, dear, Because I sit between two of my best friends, and yet, I feel completely alone in this room full of people. Because the only things I see are brown hair and a gray shirt. Because all I am aware of is your goofy grin and saxophone, and The way your lips part when you laugh still makes my heart shiver. I’m begging just to see your face once. To be reminded of the way that lights make your eyes Look different every time, Picking out the specks of blue, green, and gray As if your irises were a kaleidoscope… My mind suddenly feels perceptive of every emotion, And from across the stage and stadium seats, I feel your eyes avoiding mine, But I cannot break this cold stare of heartbreak And the needles that caress my spine. Although my brain is unwelcoming, Memories are flooding my head… Reminding me that once, you held me close, Telling me things I shouldn’t have believed, Holding my hand Telling me I’m not damaged Inviting me into your world Reassuring me it was okay And yanking it all out from under me. And everyone stands for the convocation, I’m thanking the stars for this opportunity, Because right now it’s socially acceptable. It’s okay that I stare at you and let my heart beat fast, Because you are on stage, And I’m just one in the crowd. But I always was, wasn’t I? Just another one in the crowd? Another float in your parade of heartbreaks. It’s okay, my heart is mended, Please, just look my direction… My mind is not sure of anything, But everything else is, Because we finally just made Eye contact.
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44
Took a day trip to the beach just to bury my head in the sand Restless is the water changing is the land. We're miles away from each other you're holding onto my hand. Stare down at the shoreline something fuzzy waving a warning in red but I only ever learned about surrender I'm bored and off my meds. Your dark sunglasses are reflective it's all going to your head I had a thought, so terribly perceptive it's just something that I said. Deep and beckoning ocean is cold and I am unprepared choking on my way back to the surface getting sick on the drink that we shared. Fruitless journey back to our spot you could save me, wish you cared, but you do not. Talking together about something so strange you say you like me and the way that I smile - like I'm kind of insane. Kiss you like I miss you like there's an itch in my brain. I like your bright nirvana eyes and the way you never seem to change.
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Mar 18, 2024
Mar 18, 2024 at 12:27 AM UTC
Vacation
Oh The left hand. One I use when my strength and trust has retired Lays upon a lightly laced (cloth) Disembarc of the covenant. Lick the place that my hand lays On. I Humanly wrong Make gong out of the chaotic amount Noisy bloods hitting the walls on it's way out to the rest of her vessel. She can make what is mine hers. She can make the mind like purse. So she speaks. My want move the weak hand reach. So this something can compete with And maybe even complete sweet. **** self made namesake peach. Stir & heat with onions And wash the perceptive pounds I POUND These tons now neat your Golden ratio To be betrayed and be peated
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
The moonlight glorifies everything