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"personable" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
I am an escaped prisoner from barred disillusion, A personable recluse fighting the illusion Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion. I wonder how it is that I find optimism alone, When collective pessimistic thoughts condone The woeful tales that howl and moan. I hear voices of people that aren’t there, Yet find myself in calmness aware Despite their tormented accusational affair. I see ideals living and thriving out there Even when apathy or indifference ensnare Battered hearts and worn out minds in despair I want nothing more than to ‘want’ so desperately I hold onto desire so restlessly, That I’ve tired the being of my entity, I am an anomalous paradox captive to the sea Where waters churn in active disharmony, Yet comfort as it may my tranquility. I pretend that I’ve already staked my global legacy As if my words, thoughts, and feelings, Have changed the world entirely. I feel everything as I believe it should be, Riding the waves of intensity In emotionally humble serendipity, I touch the stars in remote prose, Wandering the vast expanses without close, Wherever my mind goes, it goes. I worry about the future of humanity, As if I was merely here to watch observantly From some unknown eternity. I cry for those in silent pain With fake smiles of disdain Who dare not speak for thought in vain. I am a quiet observer of the human condition Checking and balancing sedition Though never granting my submission. I understand the fallibility of the mind, Gathering as many perspectives I can find, Theorizing everything to which I’m inclined. I say it’s all relative but it’s all relevant Prone to be dominated by the prevalent Missing the subtleties that are heaven sent. I dream when I’m awake through my ideals, Even when they’re still just spinning wheels, Hoping they gain traction as time reveals. I try to be better than the day before, As that’s the best way to keep score, When the world has us compared to others so much more. I hope my legacy is genuine, I regret nothing even when I sin, As time wears down my wrinkled grin. I am only human, to live and to die, That’s about all we can be or rely, And honestly this notion breaths me a sigh.
0
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
I Am Poem
I am an escaped prisoner from barred disillusion, A personable recluse fighting the illusion Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion. I wonder how it is that I find optimism alone, When collective pessimistic thoughts condone The woeful tales that howl and moan. I hear voices of people that aren’t there, Yet find myself in calmness aware Despite their tormented accusational affair. I see ideals living and thriving out there Even when apathy or indifference ensnare Battered hearts and worn out minds in despair I want nothing more than to ‘want’ so desperately I hold onto desire so restlessly, That I’ve tired the being of my entity, I am an anomalous paradox captive to the sea Where waters churn in active disharmony, Yet comfort as it may my tranquility. I pretend that I’ve already staked my global legacy As if my words, thoughts, and feelings, Have changed the world entirely. I feel everything as I believe it should be, Riding the waves of intensity In emotionally humble serendipity, I touch the stars in remote prose, Wandering the vast expanses without close, Wherever my mind goes, it goes. I worry about the future of humanity, As if I was merely here to watch observantly From some unknown eternity. I cry for those in silent pain With fake smiles of disdain Who dare not speak for thought in vain. I am a quiet observer of the human condition Checking and balancing sedition Though never granting my submission. I understand the fallibility of the mind, Gathering as many perspectives I can find, Theorizing everything to which I’m inclined. I say it’s all relative but it’s all relevant Prone to be dominated by the prevalent Missing the subtleties that are heaven sent. I dream when I’m awake through my ideals, Even when they’re still just spinning wheels, Hoping they gain traction as time reveals. I try to be better than the day before, As that’s the best way to keep score, When the world has us compared to others so much more. I hope my legacy is genuine, I regret nothing even when I sin, As time wears down my wrinkled grin. I am only human, to live and to die, That’s about all we can be or rely, And honestly this notion breaths me a sigh.
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54
Wow you are amazing You look very sharp today You came over here so smoothly You are so clever You brighten my day whenever I talk to you You are so good at your job I can't believe you remember me you are going to go far in life You are so personable which makes you a great employee Hey I remember you...You are the guy with all the jokes Awe you are so cute You look like you run this place I am receiving all these amazing compliments but I cant help feeling trapped Screaming underwater while my lungs fill with water Trying to swim but the more I try the further I sink
0
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC
Drowning In Compliments
A personable person propogated passion Beneath my heavy heart Alas, cried the caterpillar You are not dead! Though I have spent hours molesting your windowsill Rapeseed! Huckleberry! Gingerbread Pie! All these things and more have I maliciously misunderstood But the lies of the soothsayer are frequently true They are passionate pomegranates from me to you The obelisks of oppression overpower your heartstrings And there's nothing you can do My villain! My thief! The princess of my misery! The fiery orb and the blasphemous pirates! Staring at your shoulders I see only my reflection Turning on your heel my eyelids sparkle and linger at your doorstep It's Goliath's head Salmon and bread Those deathly ideas which you purposely said Tic tac guru Just what is he to you? And which of my words have you read?
0
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 6:24 PM UTC
Between My Lines
in the closet across from the delivery room, a janitor disguised as a hospital janitor sits on an upside down bucket under which he’s trapped what might be the world’s slowest rat. in his mind he is attempting to clean his mother’s body while supplies last. his hands are curled like the receivers of certain phones con artists used back in the day to convince people they could talk only to ghosts. the young and personable volunteer assigned to the hand he doesn’t answer is speaking so softly the man leans forward.
0
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
women occult
Cell phone shield in hand, the mirror-me peers into a shoddy, cracked up dream reflector-slash-protector as I make amends with my agitated mitochondria and attempt to drill miniscule holes into paper dolls without ripping them. So screams the wall hanging! Banshees dance, falling into cyclical romances as cream colored microphones peek out around one-way windows wondering whether or not the smiles will hold. Eyes still, eyes wrinkles crinkling, spit spray sprinkling. Connect to the dreamers. Push your plug into my cracking wall sockets, pull me apart at the seams. So cries the doorstopper! Knees bleed from street corner séances and eyes green grass that's afraid to ask where its clover went but heavens, it's bent for hell. Pray tell me, burping chickadee, when did your teeth glass over with a film of cerulean and your bones start sailing through tepid reminders that you may end this life a failure, swallowing Uncle Ben's rice packet trash at the dark black bottom of the Pacific? So sighs the statue! Broken walkie talkies feed red back to nothing and knick knack hoarders note the familiar festering of deadly bacteria in the lungs and on the tippy top of the tongue. Space cadets rocket through concrete jungles containing apartment after apartment after apartment filled with mannequins filled with sand filled with unevenly severed hands. So speaks the ornament! So declares the dashboard decal! Sensual scholarly seekers seem so totally hip and read feminist poetry to dispel the myths and spit on the irony. I won't dare to flatter you with the focused attention of stone or allow the personable picture frame to make the secrets of the microscopic universe known. So suggests the ship siren! So recites the repository! Empty yourself into me, adopt a new philosophy, abandon in within two weeks so I can see and you can seep, your fluttering robin heart to keep and glaciers to arrive upon a salty brown eternal sleep. Deliver me to the melting shopping mall! The centennial fire alarm goes off at the tip of the cliff, at the end of the hall.
0
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
(so recites the repository)
Cell phone shield in hand, the mirror-me peers into a shoddy, cracked up dream reflector-slash-protector as I make amends with my agitated mitochondria and attempt to drill miniscule holes into paper dolls without ripping them. So screams the wall hanging! Banshees dance, falling into cyclical romances as cream colored microphones peek out around one-way windows wondering whether or not the smiles will hold. Eyes still, eyes wrinkles crinkling, spit spray sprinkling. Connect to the dreamers. Push your plug into my cracking wall sockets, pull me apart at the seams. So cries the doorstopper! Knees bleed from street corner séances and eyes green grass that's afraid to ask where its clover went but heavens, it's bent for hell. Pray tell me, burping chickadee, when did your teeth glass over with a film of cerulean and your bones start sailing through tepid reminders that you may end this life a failure, swallowing Uncle Ben's rice packet trash at the dark black bottom of the Pacific? So sighs the statue! Broken walkie talkies feed red back to nothing and knick knack hoarders note the familiar festering of deadly bacteria in the lungs and on the tippy top of the tongue. Space cadets rocket through concrete jungles containing apartment after apartment after apartment filled with mannequins filled with sand filled with unevenly severed hands. So speaks the ornament! So declares the dashboard decal! Sensual scholarly seekers seem so totally hip and read feminist poetry to dispel the myths and spit on the irony. I won't dare to flatter you with the focused attention of stone or allow the personable picture frame to make the secrets of the microscopic universe known. So suggests the ship siren! So recites the repository! Empty yourself into me, adopt a new philosophy, abandon in within two weeks so I can see and you can seep, your fluttering robin heart to keep and glaciers to arrive upon a salty brown eternal sleep. Deliver me to the melting shopping mall! The centennial fire alarm goes off at the tip of the cliff, at the end of the hall.
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76
Marble. Smooth granite, melting, molding. Lust making my legs heavy like I am fighting quicksand. This is my call. Seduction is an art, just like my body. With curled toes and an arched back I fight my woes. I can scrub their hand prints off with hot water, douse my body in bleach and wake up clean. My soul is one of the few things harder than my heart. My soul is a brick through your windowpane in the dead of a black night. They call me names they do not know the meaning of. I do not mind this, they do not know how lonely I get without fingers exploring me, painting me like I am a canvas in need of the perfect finishing brushstroke. I am a woman, not an exceptionally beautiful one, but I can still make your head turn when I walk by. Not exceptionally personable, but i know the power of a compliment, and I will shower you in them until you think you have won me over. You have not. I do not belong to anyone, I do not even own myself. Remember you will never truly know me, so go on and forget about having me.
0
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
Art
exquisitely beautiful "you have lovely eyes" beautiful, pretty, attractive, good-looking, appealing, handsome, adorable, exquisite, sweet, personable, charming; enchanting, engaging, winsome, seductive, **** gorgeous, alluring, ravishing, glamorous; tasty, knockout, stunning, drop-dead gorgeous; killer, cute, foxy, hot; beauteous; comely, fair "a lovely young woman" scenic, picturesque, pleasing, easy on the eye; magnificent, stunning, splendid "a lovely view" very pleasant or enjoyable; delightful. "we've had a lovely day" delightful, very pleasant, very nice, very agreeable, marvelous, wonderful, sublime, superb, magical; terrific, fabulous, heavenly, divine, amazing, glorious "we had a lovely day" noun: lovely; plural noun: lovelies 1. a glamorous woman or girl: "a bevy of rock lovelies" Old English luflic, see love, -ly [1 above]
0
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
lovelyz - see above
it hurts when you can feel an ocean inside waves crashing into the boundaries of your mind begging for release to reach the shore denying them, holding them back like a well-built dam not a single drop gets through this facade I’m an actor in a role I never auditioned for one I never wanted one thrown upon me by the cruel hands of society family is this life better than none? three months I whisper to the face in the mirror one I have never recognized one that is not my own i hope one day to look and find myself looking back a true reflection real and not imagined but for now I do my best with whispers the tears I cannot release sweaters in the biggest size corners to curl into alone when I can imagine how I’ll look when I’m me not you be friendly personable but always know your place only speak when spoken to perhaps if you behave you will find a nice husband be a good wife raising me in her image it’s a facade I’m fractured a picture from long ago broken and never properly repaired the shards put back wrong a smiling photo of a girl i don’t know darling daughter know your place smile but not too long
0
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 12:55 PM UTC
a cloak of reality
I used to worry that they'd send you away to a life of imprisonment because they hated you so for no reasons they could explain I used to worry because their tread marks were in our driveway anytime they needed someone to try and pin things on though you were never less than honorable polite, personable, my genuinely good brother I never used to worry that they'd one up my worries and send you somewhere further away than prison I never used to worry that the forces meant to uphold law and justice to serve and protect would walk blindly past the line of no return, to botch their expected standards while watching you slip away I never used to worry that there was an evil force within some people that could destroy the glue holding our family together, then again I was so young so naive, to think that people were instinctively good that people, having families of their own would never purposefully tear apart another's but I don't suppose they ever thought of me and your kin, or beyond that need to bring you down I never used to worry that the system would fail allowing guilty parties to walk free, to have families of their own; to not even recognize the fault and to protect the ones who took you away I used to worry that they'd try to send you to a life of imprisonment, and in the end they did send you away, but it is a place where I cannot visit and instead it is us, who love you so, imprisoned in what we call life, where the fences are the breaths I take, the steps I walk, the beats of my heart the walls that confine me and separate me from the world are the memories and lost time, and of only knowing you through my childhood eyes and the guards and wardens are the haze which clouds my thoughts, unable to still hear your voice or see your face in my mind and my day of release will only come when I walk through the gate, past the fences to the afterlife, where my life will finally begin again.
0
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 9:30 AM UTC
the clink
I used to worry that they'd send you away to a life of imprisonment because they hated you so for no reasons they could explain I used to worry because their tread marks were in our driveway anytime they needed someone to try and pin things on though you were never less than honorable polite, personable, my genuinely good brother I never used to worry that they'd one up my worries and send you somewhere further away than prison I never used to worry that the forces meant to uphold law and justice to serve and protect would walk blindly past the line of no return, to botch their expected standards while watching you slip away I never used to worry that there was an evil force within some people that could destroy the glue holding our family together, then again I was so young so naive, to think that people were instinctively good that people, having families of their own would never purposefully tear apart another's but I don't suppose they ever thought of me and your kin, or beyond that need to bring you down I never used to worry that the system would fail allowing guilty parties to walk free, to have families of their own; to not even recognize the fault and to protect the ones who took you away I used to worry that they'd try to send you to a life of imprisonment, and in the end they did send you away, but it is a place where I cannot visit and instead it is us, who love you so, imprisoned in what we call life, where the fences are the breaths I take, the steps I walk, the beats of my heart the walls that confine me and separate me from the world are the memories and lost time, and of only knowing you through my childhood eyes and the guards and wardens are the haze which clouds my thoughts, unable to still hear your voice or see your face in my mind and my day of release will only come when I walk through the gate, past the fences to the afterlife, where my life will finally begin again.
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49
Growing up ugly, alternately fat and thin eating scars for breakfast and time for tea having almost climbed out of a buried bin only for it to be upended & held in place with 1939's world atlas; the one that got europe all wrong & like me, was designed with accuracy in mind Personable birds of prey prodded, persuaded and set free the mean old biped growing inside beach ***** jolly popped and sandcastles raided just to see the looks on hope & holyglow faces their defeat in optimism: my triumph as **** full circle towards schematic self-sabotage Once again i am bitter drunk and to be wed we improvised trite vows and cut ourselves spare keys for access to one another's sickbeds In attendance: maternal ghosts and retired reapers hurting with knowledge & witholding screams Liver-spotted harbingers of age and all its mistakes Older now than I ever thought was likely: refuse to fight against the alarms of everything as everything and everything change around me But there are too many different colours of skin and i never was a tolerant, I was always just witch Now finally alone enough to weigh my empty chairs Surprising, that when black hands  materialise my own teeth flash & spit through septic spells make even him blink, in his absence of eyes For in his face is a nothing that stills me It's the same nothing that i've rotted with All my sorry life i'd settled this way, instead of that To ask for one more would be greedy, wouldn't it? Now it feels like I've begged before, i'll beg again I think when he kisses me  it will be over
0
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
The Alarms of Every
Growing up ugly, alternately fat and thin eating scars for breakfast and time for tea having almost climbed out of a buried bin only for it to be upended & held in place with 1939's world atlas; the one that got europe all wrong & like me, was designed with accuracy in mind Personable birds of prey prodded, persuaded and set free the mean old biped growing inside beach ***** jolly popped and sandcastles raided just to see the looks on hope & holyglow faces their defeat in optimism: my triumph as **** full circle towards schematic self-sabotage Once again i am bitter drunk and to be wed we improvised trite vows and cut ourselves spare keys for access to one another's sickbeds In attendance: maternal ghosts and retired reapers hurting with knowledge & witholding screams Liver-spotted harbingers of age and all its mistakes Older now than I ever thought was likely: refuse to fight against the alarms of everything as everything and everything change around me But there are too many different colours of skin and i never was a tolerant, I was always just witch Now finally alone enough to weigh my empty chairs Surprising, that when black hands  materialise my own teeth flash & spit through septic spells make even him blink, in his absence of eyes For in his face is a nothing that stills me It's the same nothing that i've rotted with All my sorry life i'd settled this way, instead of that To ask for one more would be greedy, wouldn't it? Now it feels like I've begged before, i'll beg again I think when he kisses me  it will be over
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33
Exhaled motionless, in this, fervor of unearthed notion, upon an ocean, of allure. Birthed of worth, in potions of piety, thinning the stream, and depleting the anxiety, in the pure pleasantries of personable enemies, tempting me, to play to the poetic subtlety of society.
0
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
Exhaled
I dream awake as a silent dragon with a jade arm and no sense of one's self, I can talk for days losing complete track of one topic to another but I'll keep you entertained I am the child of a man of word and a woman of nature, cursed by the nine to see truth, I welcome all into the conversation, I am trusting that all trust me This dragon kills for what seems like no reason, he's killed kings, presents, giants, pawns, friends and even gods, *if you harm me so be it, if you touch my family I'll ******* torture you, death would be to pleasant for what I have in mind* Sometimes my dreams mash with reality imposing faces onto characters, and traits into powers, I'm personable, and a omnist, opening all the time This provides me with challenges everyday since no one is exactly an enemy or ally and remain as such throughout the daydreams, I assert my presence in many forms of art He has adapted or evolved as I have learned more of reality causing him to believe he's immortal, I am inclined to mention that we may all look a bit crazy sometimes The really funny thing is his day shares mine but our nights are spent in his, I am always here for you or at least do my best However each night he's sitting on a roof planning the heist of little importance, only to discover a powerful elven princesses trapped so he frees her and they escape, though I may be a hypocrite about some statements Then the dragon decides before he sleeps that night that he will help the princess find out who she is, I am simply me and nothing else, you are so much more
0
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 4:20 AM UTC
Two worlds
I dream awake as a silent dragon with a jade arm and no sense of one's self, I can talk for days losing complete track of one topic to another but I'll keep you entertained I am the child of a man of word and a woman of nature, cursed by the nine to see truth, I welcome all into the conversation, I am trusting that all trust me This dragon kills for what seems like no reason, he's killed kings, presents, giants, pawns, friends and even gods, *if you harm me so be it, if you touch my family I'll ******* torture you, death would be to pleasant for what I have in mind* Sometimes my dreams mash with reality imposing faces onto characters, and traits into powers, I'm personable, and a omnist, opening all the time This provides me with challenges everyday since no one is exactly an enemy or ally and remain as such throughout the daydreams, I assert my presence in many forms of art He has adapted or evolved as I have learned more of reality causing him to believe he's immortal, I am inclined to mention that we may all look a bit crazy sometimes The really funny thing is his day shares mine but our nights are spent in his, I am always here for you or at least do my best However each night he's sitting on a roof planning the heist of little importance, only to discover a powerful elven princesses trapped so he frees her and they escape, though I may be a hypocrite about some statements Then the dragon decides before he sleeps that night that he will help the princess find out who she is, I am simply me and nothing else, you are so much more
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18
A famous alumnus is visiting the university. I got an invitation several days ago to a small, socially distanced, masked, focus group. It was to be early on a Saturday morning - so, why not? I was excited to see her - I’m a fan. We were a diverse group of about 20 (covid tested before admittance) students and I was in the back row. Seating was offset so everyone could see everything perfectly. I craned and swiveled, when her entourage came into the room. Then, there she was - I’m sure I was grinning ear to ear (behind my mask), we clapped, excitedly. She wore a navy business suit. A jacket over a black blouse with slacks and black shoes.   She gave a talk, about the challenges America faces. On YouTube, her speech-giving voice always seemed artificial, cold, harsh and brittle. Here, she was low-key, motherly, whip smart, personable and humorous - everything I had hoped for. Then there was a question and answer session (NOT easy questions - did I mention whip smart?) followed by a no touching reception line. And *** she’s a foot away. She seemed a lacquered and corrected sort of person - professional - I guess you’d say. Everyone was gently elbow bumping with her, so I did too. You’d say your name and class. “Anais Vionet, freshman,” I said. I wanted to say “I’m a BIG fan” but I thought I might come off as either fawning or even worse someone bent on wasting her time. We both smiled, me behind my mask and I bobbed a goodbye nod, but as I went to step away she said, “How’s your Grandmother?” I was shocked but I managed to say, “She’s fine, thank you.” To which she replied, “Please tell her I said hello.” I just nodded, “yes” as a sort of “I will,” and stepped away. I glanced around, there was no handler by her side and she wasn’t wearing an earpiece - how she knew me I have no idea - but now I think she’s considering a run in 2024. My grandmère would be a whale of a donor. What a bizarre encounter.
0
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 12:25 PM UTC
not name dropping
A famous alumnus is visiting the university. I got an invitation several days ago to a small, socially distanced, masked, focus group. It was to be early on a Saturday morning - so, why not? I was excited to see her - I’m a fan. We were a diverse group of about 20 (covid tested before admittance) students and I was in the back row. Seating was offset so everyone could see everything perfectly. I craned and swiveled, when her entourage came into the room. Then, there she was - I’m sure I was grinning ear to ear (behind my mask), we clapped, excitedly. She wore a navy business suit. A jacket over a black blouse with slacks and black shoes.   She gave a talk, about the challenges America faces. On YouTube, her speech-giving voice always seemed artificial, cold, harsh and brittle. Here, she was low-key, motherly, whip smart, personable and humorous - everything I had hoped for. Then there was a question and answer session (NOT easy questions - did I mention whip smart?) followed by a no touching reception line. And *** she’s a foot away. She seemed a lacquered and corrected sort of person - professional - I guess you’d say. Everyone was gently elbow bumping with her, so I did too. You’d say your name and class. “Anais Vionet, freshman,” I said. I wanted to say “I’m a BIG fan” but I thought I might come off as either fawning or even worse someone bent on wasting her time. We both smiled, me behind my mask and I bobbed a goodbye nod, but as I went to step away she said, “How’s your Grandmother?” I was shocked but I managed to say, “She’s fine, thank you.” To which she replied, “Please tell her I said hello.” I just nodded, “yes” as a sort of “I will,” and stepped away. I glanced around, there was no handler by her side and she wasn’t wearing an earpiece - how she knew me I have no idea - but now I think she’s considering a run in 2024. My grandmère would be a whale of a donor. What a bizarre encounter.
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8
Define perfect. Is it a pretty face, nice hair? Is it thin as a rod, or ripped with muscles? Is it smart, witty and brilliant? Is it funny and personable? Is it friendly and kind? Is it honest and true? Is it in the way you walk, the way you talk? Is it in your nature, in your core? Is it inherent or attainable? Is it even real, or just an illusion?
0
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Define Perfect.
**there's nothing personable about wintry skies above the boston harbor it gets ugly along the ridgepole of rhode island and providence plantations this time of year i ink off the dome along the varicose veins of these violent streets we smash more because life indoors is the gateway to new manners or points of psychosis if your boo doesn't get you enough to get along it storms snow where we bump some think it's fine or that it's by design lakes freeze over here and mold mirrors made with angels in mind but it's a terrific tragedy the death of colors, inhibitions and innocence choked away from the branches certain seasons undress the way no one knows enough to mourn but mother nature's a chameleon and new england is the skin that won't keep it's the backend of the wannabe springtime middays in may when shorties lose their minds again a few hours every other day rock cutoffs and capris because the sun showed her shine again but she's so premature and we've dreamed dreams before this way against the grain so we get high to get by like smokeheads do but i need something sexier to wake up to like garden birds and backyard bird feeders american robins and the orioles that i imagine must use their sugar water to maintain better bongs because it's a slow burn... the backside of northeastern calendar months and my consequent mood swings are 1 of 2 things that need adjusting but it is what it is, and too cold anyway so smiles crack beneath the pressure like glass poets in poetry slams**
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
WEATHERMAN
**there's nothing personable about wintry skies above the boston harbor it gets ugly along the ridgepole of rhode island and providence plantations this time of year i ink off the dome along the varicose veins of these violent streets we smash more because life indoors is the gateway to new manners or points of psychosis if your boo doesn't get you enough to get along it storms snow where we bump some think it's fine or that it's by design lakes freeze over here and mold mirrors made with angels in mind but it's a terrific tragedy the death of colors, inhibitions and innocence choked away from the branches certain seasons undress the way no one knows enough to mourn but mother nature's a chameleon and new england is the skin that won't keep it's the backend of the wannabe springtime middays in may when shorties lose their minds again a few hours every other day rock cutoffs and capris because the sun showed her shine again but she's so premature and we've dreamed dreams before this way against the grain so we get high to get by like smokeheads do but i need something sexier to wake up to like garden birds and backyard bird feeders american robins and the orioles that i imagine must use their sugar water to maintain better bongs because it's a slow burn... the backside of northeastern calendar months and my consequent mood swings are 1 of 2 things that need adjusting but it is what it is, and too cold anyway so smiles crack beneath the pressure like glass poets in poetry slams**
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When you think about it: We spend the majority of our lives Behind closed doors. Whether it is in the privacy of our homes, Or in our offices, schools, or church. Most of what we do is hidden from the world. And you never really think about what Other people might be dealing with, But a simple word could have them in tears. We don't take the time to ask about Their scars or any defining aspects of their life. We live in a world of small talk, And artificial friendships. Talk to a veteran. Understand. Find people that you have known for years, But never truly got to know them. Many of us don't know each other's full name, Let alone what takes place in their household, Or what their financial situation is, Or why they stopped texting you back. In reality we assume that we grew apart from them, Or that they are mad at us; melodramatic. But their phone service got cancelled because they Couldn't make the payments, Or their house got foreclosed and they're embarrassed To talk about it. If we consider ourselves to be their friend, Then we should be there for them in every situation. Be personable with everyone, Forgive people who do wrong to you, Love people; not just some people, Love everyone. We spend to much time and energy Hating people and things. How many times a day do you say, "I hate"? And how many times a day Do you say, "I love"? That is what is wrong with people today. Don't forget to pray To keep it away Keep the hate away, Love everyone. Inhale the future, Exhale the past. And pray.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
Wonder - Don't Forget to Pray
When you think about it: We spend the majority of our lives Behind closed doors. Whether it is in the privacy of our homes, Or in our offices, schools, or church. Most of what we do is hidden from the world. And you never really think about what Other people might be dealing with, But a simple word could have them in tears. We don't take the time to ask about Their scars or any defining aspects of their life. We live in a world of small talk, And artificial friendships. Talk to a veteran. Understand. Find people that you have known for years, But never truly got to know them. Many of us don't know each other's full name, Let alone what takes place in their household, Or what their financial situation is, Or why they stopped texting you back. In reality we assume that we grew apart from them, Or that they are mad at us; melodramatic. But their phone service got cancelled because they Couldn't make the payments, Or their house got foreclosed and they're embarrassed To talk about it. If we consider ourselves to be their friend, Then we should be there for them in every situation. Be personable with everyone, Forgive people who do wrong to you, Love people; not just some people, Love everyone. We spend to much time and energy Hating people and things. How many times a day do you say, "I hate"? And how many times a day Do you say, "I love"? That is what is wrong with people today. Don't forget to pray To keep it away Keep the hate away, Love everyone. Inhale the future, Exhale the past. And pray.
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Pitter-patter; pelting peaking the poignant hearing of a peering, personable person. Awakened she walks; waiting for water to weaken against the small windows, withering away. Flourishing souls; stemming from spring came spitting droplets, refreshing flora. Drab days; dead development dawdled by dreary dates - winter is gone. Joyful cheers! Carrot's stones cherished close for colder days. Winter disappears for departure. Spring reappears for resurgence.
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Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
Farmer's best sign of luck
if I am not near them, I do not long for music by them. at my lowest, they are hardly men and women on all fours eating garbage. you seem to know they’re naked. what they cannot eat they pause above. a baby’s black crib beneath a dream. the dream a charred tree bent over a rabbit turned inside out. the ark was Noah’s belly. the gods and the devils simpletons dumbly yearning for a more personable abandonment. I am not alone but am its aphrodisiac.
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
kinship
evaluating descriptions of myself and what it means to have high arches and elbows that crack. or angry base ****** expressions. I don’t look friendy. or personable or happy. what I’ve found is I don’t fit into a perfectly shaped puzzle piece hole (that was made for me to help identify who I am) I am unidentifiable by choice. or maybe it's not willingly but rather an unfortunate truth I have mistaken as my own decision. all I really wanted was someone who fit into the puzzle with me. like two nesting birds that stuff their feathery bodies into too-tight spaces. (we don’t fit) instead I am just one lonely bird in a too big nest. my feathers are ruffled from frantic, panicked waves of agoraphobic episodes. this immense space looks ridiculous for one body I can't be the only one who feels so alone.
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Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
reflection distorted.
A saunter down the byways of familiar paths and passages A stroll in the company of long forgotten friends, The magnificence of memories of outstanding types Who meld in my mind in the way friendship blends. A walk in the park with the ghosts of my memories The personable warmth of their breath on my cheek, Familiar phrases, a hand on my shoulder Our companionable sauntering company we keep. A solitary walk in the lane by the willows Enjoying the phantoms who stroll with me there, Reliving the joy and the laughs of the bygone Whilst feeling the sunshine of now in my hair. The glow in my heart for the warmly remembered The ache in my soul for the ones left behind, How lucky am I to be one with my memories When many sit there recollectively blind. Shaking the hand of a good man respected Kissing the wrinkles away from old eyes, Feeling the realm of a joy rediscovered Sauntering time with my ghosts in disguise. Marshalg In the lane with the willows Mangere Bridge by the estuary. 15 December 2010
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Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 7:26 PM UTC
Walking with my Ghosts.
Swat the butterflies whose wings Decieve the poem and inscribes Its colored brilliance on gilded flights; There is no grace to his clunky Flying and brings repetitive hooplah To the natural poem and steals Its personable voice. Every language has a flow of poetry Whose inner soul derives of the Course of one's harmony and rhythm, And using a star of butterflies in every Poem brings about the very sameness We all suffer from daily. See the beauty in a vulture Whose glide is magnificent Spreading his wings in silent Flight above rolling hills. His beauty is not that of the Butterfly, but it's flight is undeniably Graceful and finding its natural Poetic flow is deeper still.
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Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
Swat The Butterflies
As a reformed anonymist, I'm not one to look down on drunks. But today at the bar, I looked up at one and saw a beautiful disaster. Long dreaded hippie girls have a soft spot in the corner of my heart. From the patchwork dresses to the oxymorons of a vegan ****** addict, I've loved many. But it's sad to watch someone create themselves through liquor. To create a persona through drugs because that's "counter cultural." To create another line of ******** about not wanting to be a robot.   A message so timeless and repetitive that it's... She was actually kind of personable. The few times that day she could speak, she was even funny. She carried herself with a grace that was quite remarkable for someone who could barely stand. But she was on the run. From a halfway house. From a boy friend. From a drug. From herself. There's no truly meeting someone who is already halfway out the door and already in the bag. There was a desperation in her smile that I've seen before in my own reflection. I don't believe in God. But if you do, say a prayer for her. I believe it's worth it.
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Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
For a Drunk Girl I Met Today.
Down a glass of wine and hold it to your ear. A mock ocean swirls in its holy emptiness. You are sitting at the bottom- with nothing but death wishes and sweet kisses. A small hope for real love oozes from clasped fingers. But you squeeze it away to sing karaoke at the next bar. They love you because you are free and boundless like the red balloon that floats in their heads, simultaneously. You can own them all with your laugh- how personable you are. A pseudo sociopath on the verge of make-believe horror stories, spilling out on to the bar- with your last drink. Let them think you don't play dumb. Let them think you don't drink yourself numb. Stomp away with your cigarette- Do they know you know they know? It doesn't matter- call the next one over. The ocean will always crash in your glass- an empty temple of company.
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Fool your listening