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"perplexes" poems
What hellish feeling This wait that perplexes me When will I find you
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
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*A bantam sounds afternoon tidings as the iron weathervane points Northeast .. Both silhouettes as endearing a sight as my eyes could ever witness ... Astral nights , my amour ..Colorful light illustrations brushstroke the East , The edge of the Milky Way perplexes , I bask in it's subtle persuasion .. Wind battled score and five year Pines sound timorous refrains , offering great euphonic consolation* ..
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Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 7:52 PM UTC
After the Storm
In my sleep I see a hummingbird Initially it seems a bit absurd However it to me it is speaking Of a peace that I have been seeking As it hovers over the flowers so peacefully It seems to have a message specifically meant for me To what end I cannot tell Every emotion begins to swell Stopper of time Is this my moment to shine? Nectar taken in order to nourish Will this flower continue to flourish? The message it’s trying to tell me has me in a trance It is not here without happenstance Is this dream my new reality? One can only hope to see Yet to be here only for the here and now Perplexes me somehow Stopper of time lands on my window sill Happiness, peace, contentment if time stands still.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
Hummingbird's Message
Insecurity; breeds inferiority. Empty, cold and broken. What's lacking now, forever hopeless. Those eyes; encompass my soul. A mirror is what you see. My looking glass, it's so tempting. It's what you'll never know that perplexes me. How could you not? In a world so isolating. What your future holds, terrifies me. © 2013 Christina Jackson
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Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Can't think of a title
The terrifying teeth chatter into the crimson lips of a wound up smile, chattering along the very risen table top that draws all small toys to their finite dooms. While breaths sour hour upon hour, each idling ear suffocates the last gasping breaths of its epicurean syllabic tongue, drizzling down the stomach like melt water from a cubic glacier in an ornamental silver tub, and sternly quibbles the stem-like dactyls drawing rose champagne into a fissure of the brain's tumescent humming. Each finger tips' nail rouge and red, each dry crevice sewn into the knuckles, and a leaflet on sadism near the scratchy illegible lines whittled on the topside of the wrists and the slalom runs of the ankle. The ankle sinister. The ghost-like hallow sockets of where eyes could have once be seen. Plaster and albicant-like dying death white skins forbade from the Flushing streets where the jazz dance once began. And with each nellypotted hop, three useless nuisances could not carry the bridle towards each nearly favorite sound that curiosity enslaved man to lean towards. The women weirded out by corners, plastic-wrapped furniture in outdoor corridors, where sinners veil their retreats into state run triage centers. Fake plastic countertops built from fake plastic trees. With an M14's muzzle stiffening and shuttering, she who vents off her cured romances will always find herself flaccid on rubber knees. The disease of the plea, is once more an affectation of not falling for royalty but instead the royal we. There is this weapon of fraud that perplexes geneticists, that enslaves heterosexuals, where albeit nor the time or place, she venerates the libations that her mind creates, she lubricates her cells, dressing, her skin ripening, heaven trickling across her humble nape, where gentleness is only a fool's disease and need. She. We. Heathens of eternity bowing our breaths in grand hyperbole see. I see she, and she sees me.
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
The Parabols of Pericles
The terrifying teeth chatter into the crimson lips of a wound up smile, chattering along the very risen table top that draws all small toys to their finite dooms. While breaths sour hour upon hour, each idling ear suffocates the last gasping breaths of its epicurean syllabic tongue, drizzling down the stomach like melt water from a cubic glacier in an ornamental silver tub, and sternly quibbles the stem-like dactyls drawing rose champagne into a fissure of the brain's tumescent humming. Each finger tips' nail rouge and red, each dry crevice sewn into the knuckles, and a leaflet on sadism near the scratchy illegible lines whittled on the topside of the wrists and the slalom runs of the ankle. The ankle sinister. The ghost-like hallow sockets of where eyes could have once be seen. Plaster and albicant-like dying death white skins forbade from the Flushing streets where the jazz dance once began. And with each nellypotted hop, three useless nuisances could not carry the bridle towards each nearly favorite sound that curiosity enslaved man to lean towards. The women weirded out by corners, plastic-wrapped furniture in outdoor corridors, where sinners veil their retreats into state run triage centers. Fake plastic countertops built from fake plastic trees. With an M14's muzzle stiffening and shuttering, she who vents off her cured romances will always find herself flaccid on rubber knees. The disease of the plea, is once more an affectation of not falling for royalty but instead the royal we. There is this weapon of fraud that perplexes geneticists, that enslaves heterosexuals, where albeit nor the time or place, she venerates the libations that her mind creates, she lubricates her cells, dressing, her skin ripening, heaven trickling across her humble nape, where gentleness is only a fool's disease and need. She. We. Heathens of eternity bowing our breaths in grand hyperbole see. I see she, and she sees me.
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4
Confined to the minds barrels, trapped inside four white, wooden walls that wash me with light; creating eternity. An eternity where your face is forced forth with splintered teeth, wood grain whispers. Air evades my lungs breathing in, panic, locked away. To stay and rot. My tongue may become a meal; I don’t need words in here. This chambers grand design is an endless emptiness. My mind’s faced with this shameless white graceless space which aggravates my dark creativity. This great sin in me is great and willing me to spill the hate hidden deep. The rays rebound perpetually. The silence perplexes me. Perplexes me. The silence confined to the double barrels. Your face, perpetually, stretching its imprint across these walls. Blurring, screaming terror. Eyes open, burning, comfort in the darkness learning the eyelids inner charms. Not the vastness. Eyes open. Terror. Tear away these fantasies; isolations imagination identifies with my demons. The blank space is filled with cacophonies, agony, smiles in the emptiness stretch beyond capacity. Silence. Whispers, these wood grain whispers splinter my eardrums. No matter how I try to pick (axe) them out, this imaginary pencil doesn’t dig deep enough. I hear no calligraphy. No beauty finds me in here, this box of light holds my plight and creates a world where I know no night. I hold no right, I cannot wrong, there’s nothing left, I hold no rite, there’s no day to escape for sleep, no knight to bring me dreams, no left to take me to the right place, I am so bereft of time. Am I dead? Dying? Lying here in wait, lying to myself, declining in health. Declining life. The silence is hexing, dissecting each piece of what’s left of me. The canvas screams, it wants to know my nightmares, to feel their bloodied paint on its flesh. I’m the worm in the water.
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Double Barreled
Confined to the minds barrels, trapped inside four white, wooden walls that wash me with light; creating eternity. An eternity where your face is forced forth with splintered teeth, wood grain whispers. Air evades my lungs breathing in, panic, locked away. To stay and rot. My tongue may become a meal; I don’t need words in here. This chambers grand design is an endless emptiness. My mind’s faced with this shameless white graceless space which aggravates my dark creativity. This great sin in me is great and willing me to spill the hate hidden deep. The rays rebound perpetually. The silence perplexes me. Perplexes me. The silence confined to the double barrels. Your face, perpetually, stretching its imprint across these walls. Blurring, screaming terror. Eyes open, burning, comfort in the darkness learning the eyelids inner charms. Not the vastness. Eyes open. Terror. Tear away these fantasies; isolations imagination identifies with my demons. The blank space is filled with cacophonies, agony, smiles in the emptiness stretch beyond capacity. Silence. Whispers, these wood grain whispers splinter my eardrums. No matter how I try to pick (axe) them out, this imaginary pencil doesn’t dig deep enough. I hear no calligraphy. No beauty finds me in here, this box of light holds my plight and creates a world where I know no night. I hold no right, I cannot wrong, there’s nothing left, I hold no rite, there’s no day to escape for sleep, no knight to bring me dreams, no left to take me to the right place, I am so bereft of time. Am I dead? Dying? Lying here in wait, lying to myself, declining in health. Declining life. The silence is hexing, dissecting each piece of what’s left of me. The canvas screams, it wants to know my nightmares, to feel their bloodied paint on its flesh. I’m the worm in the water.
Continue reading...
47
Iphone, laptops, and the internet is to make us all smarter But it makes us all dumber, and life alot harder Microwaves, bread makers, electric can openers so we can save time To help us make supper on less of a dime We no longer talk to friends we text Ment to bring us closer but it's more like a hex Want to see a sunset just look on a screen Don't go outside that would be obscene We spend all our time at work to buy possessions It's like an obsession This material world perplexes me It's all around me, you see Ment to bring us closer, save us money, and time But we are always working so much, it's more like a crime No time for family, friend or mother nature In this material world we've fallen into a crater Wouldn't it be funny if the plug was pulled And we would have to go back to using hand tools I think we all would turn into drooling fools
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May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
Material World
Iphone, laptops, and the internet is to make us all smarter But it makes us all dumber, and life alot harder Microwaves, bread makers, electric can openers so we can save time To help us make supper on less of a dime We no longer talk to friends we text Ment to bring us closer but it's more like a hex Want to see a sunset just look on a screen Don't go outside that would be obscene We spend all our time at work to buy possessions It's like an obsession This material world perplexes me It's all around me, you see Ment to bring us closer, save us money, and time But we are always working so much it's more like a crime No time for family, friend or mother nature In this material world we've fallen into a crater Wouldn't it be funny if the plug was pulled And we would have to go back to using hand tools I think we all would turn into drooling fools
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Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
Materialistic World
Picture-perfect spectacle, splattered upon the canvas White canvas polka-dotted, splashed, smacked With an ensemble of colors partaking in lively dances Artistry exemplary, simple applause apparently apt. It was this artist’s one shot The proof was in the painting The piece ; joy is what it brought The other piece, other joy, exhilarating. Reds, violets, blues Pinks, greens, and orange hues Rainbow splats and careful flats Certain clusters of paint make me glad. Though, like every painting painted A hidden passage creating vexes Faint sadness ; happiness tainted The mind of this creator perplexes. All the while I’ve been feeling his art And touching the surface Deep below was his heart Well crafted mask that hugged his face I shall pick his brain Quite literally, though it’s repulsive For this painting was his last, ashame His retirement is messy, but in an eye of an artist This gunpoint suicide was one that held artistic fame.
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Art
How does something so completely right feel completely wrong? How does something make me feel at ease, yet make my dread so strong? It's this complicated, complex problem tearing me apart This paradoxical, puzzling thing that's ripping at my heart It confuses me So easily Tap Tap Inside my brain This is driving me Insane How does something I love so much make me feel this uneasy? How does the thought put my head in a spin, and make me queasy? It's this intricate, enigmatic problem I can not solve This mysterious, mystifying thing around which I revolve It perplexes me So easily Tap Tap Inside my head Makes me wish that I Was dead These voices arguing inside me won't be quiet No matter what I do or say And they all belong to me And I just wish that they would SHUT. UP.
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
There Are So Many Voices In My Head, Maybe One Of Them Belongs To You
My heart is a mechanism over which I have no control My heart is a weapon I use against myself My heart is a conglomeration of mixed up emotions My heart is a tattered and torn but still somehow beating vessel My heart is a complete and utter paradox; it perplexes even myself My heart is heavy artillery ready to open fire on me at any moment My heart is a solitary device, driven only by its own selfish and foolish desires My heart is a kindergarten craft project, held together weakly with superglue, but each fragile piece created with care My heart is the antithesis of progress, the opposite of what I need to remain sane
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Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
my heart
*Something in the eyes I see Disturbs and perplexes me, Somehow through thy sallow skin The hue reflects deep hurt within, Gentle line of thin red lips Engaged within a smile's eclipse. Mona Lisa lost in rhyme Write for me, just one more time?* M. 13 December 2015
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC
Bex in Sepia
Convey to a new perception, Not which is material, Nor that spoils a mind, Rather reconstitute, An equilibrium, See in between the lines, Of simple complexity, That perplexes the mind, To ask why, Material over intelligence, Has such prevalence, Over I and you, Conduct rational thought, That leads to logic, Instead of inferior emotions, An effortless current, Of massive debris, Lets clean this pollution, Filled of greed, hate, envy, *** race, money, religion, Political, material, self loathing thoughts, In exchange intelligence, Efficiency, common sense, Of practical applications, Ranging from nothing to everything, Let it reign intelligence, From the skies, Onto these dumbfounded lands, So one day everyone knows, c = 3.00 × 108 m/s, Is how slow we should think, And how fast we should move
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Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 10:34 PM UTC
A Chance Of Reign
Your simplicity perplexes me As does the audacity of your thoughts I suppose I don't have the means To decipher your thoughts at all However I can only imagine The complexity in which they consist By the way you carry yourself As if you, yourself, are not aware So please do allow me to enlighten you On the premise for my evaluation For it all begins with a premonition
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May 24, 2011
May 24, 2011 at 9:30 PM UTC
premonition
Yellow lights Hesitation in my steps I know the unseen It's the tangible that perplexes Red carpets Unexpected pedestals rising beneath me Appreciation long overdue Inspired wonder Dusted in magic Track it in this home ***** the floor with your foot steps Leave you finger prints on these walls Nothing like where I am No worries to taunt me Clouds to catch me This one in a million life
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Jun 8, 2010
Jun 8, 2010 at 11:37 AM UTC
Yellow Red Magic
Staring into the limitless An infinite spectrum of qualities Devoted to expressing the duplicitous nature of divinity To construct reality to hold both fabrication and purity at such equal esteem perplexes the pieces that perceive the local frame for such a minuscule amount of time and yet it binds the boundaries of evolution, attaching string after string, until every good thing becomes muddled and unclear Not from hatred, nor fear or depravity But from the tumultuous distinctions made when a pattern found itself being in rear to itself And then it finds it's equilibrium once the fluidity of origin reverts attention from every intention muscled from the nudge of inner tranquility They code or key in the magic of three Nature begets life begets virtue to enlighten the majesty
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Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
A Minor Blerb
I have been fighting for so long; I have been trying so hard; I have been craving for my world to be turned upside down; For love that will finally bring me out of my mind and back down to earth. I've been denying myself love for fear of her loss. The possibility of... Inevitability. A complicated woman to adore with a warm hand to hold. A smile that's infectious with a personality that perplexes. I'm not ready to love, because I still seek her. Like a long lost friend that I hope will return someday. Proving to me that although the people we love may change; The feeling's always the same, no matter how many times you forget. That's the funny thing about love. It changes, but it doesn't. Somehow it's the same. Maybe the lips are a little different, but it's a kiss none the same!
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Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 7:07 AM UTC
Struggling to Find the Accurate Words
I see the beauty in your brokenness Your scars don't scare me It's hard to break your walls As hard as it is to let you in Your body cracked to let the hint of sunlight through But here I promise you I'll love you when you're a storm That wrecks me I'll love you when you're a still day That perplexes me I'll love you when you're a season That changes me I'll love you when you're a drizzle That touches me Ill love you not because I have no choice But because you saw through my twisted alleys But because you saw through my faults But because you chose to love me
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Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
Unconditional
Time means nothing a world apart and truth in black lines is still subjective Concrete emotions blend into surroundings and the mix perplexes those who cannot live in the gray clouds of a pending storm But boy does that rain smell good the peace in the falling change lulls the heart into a trance hypnotic rhythms change the beat of a dying heart Alive or almost so the dancing droplets look like jellyfish flowing through life in a grace one can never hope to achieve Life provides the weapons to win and the power to combat all that comes to harm but it does not hand us discernment To choose to fight for or against to be who we choose or who we believe to trust love and doubt choices or trust choices and doubt love We are the warriors of our destiny in a land that never teaches us to fight
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May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
Rhythm of Change
My presence perplexes me. I wonder Is it a good thing for me to be around? I want to become worldly, but awareness scares me, yet I can’t stop my mind from wandering. I don’t know much about this world, but my self stands as the greatest unknown. When I change, I whimper and cry and scream beneath the shadow of my new traits. Losing control This manic relapse always returns. I roar! Scaring those that are nearby. I worry I’ll be locked away in a zoo.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
Relapse
The setting sun Embroiders heavy, Pregnant with rain, clouds With hues of pink laced with gold Up against the tranquil blue sky The pink clouds sprawled across the solid blue Like the wool baby blanket You can't get yourself to give up Sometimes When I look up at those tangible, Realer than life clouds I fathom if they could possibly take me away Zip down to me like an unidentified space craft-- I would board the clouds like a ship And I'd be shown all the world All the wonders of the world, And all the knowledge of the world not yet known to mankind I'd escape every triviality that perplexes me daily, Which I know shouldn't perplex me, but does anyway, Because I'm human and sometimes I'm not as brave and noble as I want and ought to be Bats fly overhead.. My daydreams cannot take me very far, For they are limited to my minds synapses.. A firefly dances beside me.. The sun sets hastily Shadows grow deeper, Simultaneously my heart grows despondent As the shadows of night proliferate, Until darkness engulfs this town entirely, Like a cloak That incites my own inner shadows To awaken I dream of a day That will be filled with elation and no more Of this intermittent, unwanted pain That is like birth pangs, Unexpected and excruciating *Sunset clouds, take me away Take me to the paradise that my mind Did create.*
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Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
Sunset to Paradise
How you remember to breathe let alone run a business perplexes me..
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
To my boss... Seriously.. How do you even...?
You are the best. You are the height of all things lovely. You are beauty embodied in both the physical and metaphysical realms. You are all the snippets of lovely characteristics I find scattered between the other members of our race all collected into one resplendent woman. And I get to call her mine.   And she loves me.   And the universe perplexes me because as to why it would bestow such a gift to me is beyond comprehension I could ever understand.
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Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Ditto