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"persuades" poems
All around me, I see endless fear. Fear of heights, sure, fear of scuttling things Fear of darkness, fear of bites Fear of brightness, fear of fights. This is the fear we can display Because it’s little, simple, understandable. But the fear I really fear That we all let consume us Is deeper, Darker, Cold. It’s the fear of friendship, fear of love, Fear of what’s ahead of us But even more of what’s behind us Fear to see what’s really beyond The faces we all fake. Fear of the unknowable Fear of what we know Fear of speaking out or up or for Fear of conforming to something more Fear to test the limits Fear to taste the truth Fear of what’s uncomfortable Rather than the deception of comfort Fear of what to do Fear of striving for perfection When perfection’s so unattainable. Fear of to leave what has been known Fear of what has been done Fear to see past fabrication, Fear to show the truth. I’m talking fear of emotion Or fear of not feeling enough Fear of silence, but worse, The fear of candid words. Fear to look someone in the eye And say, “I know you, And I care for you.” Fear to let someone see the darkness that comes with your light Fear of rebelling though it’s time someone did Fear of doing what you want and know Because of what someone told you you should Fear of being who you are Because every day everyone is telling you What to do and who to be And what is acceptable And what is not. I’m talking fear of having an opinion Because someone will shoot it down Fear of defense or service or selflessness Because someone won’t approve. Fear to accept because of fear of acceptance Fear to truly love someone Because it’s risky, And you never know What someone else really feels. I cry for the fear of Every person who can’t be Who they are and who can’t Let people see them in their entirety Because after all everyone urges And persuades and demands and values And idolizes and expects, You don’t even know yourself, Because you've been too busy With trying to be so many different “Someone Else"s. I ache for this relentless fear. I mourn the stagnancy of the condition Of the human soul who is so afraid To let go of fear And BE somebody, To do something or say something, or simply believe, That the only thing they truly trust Is the familiarity Of fear itself. That’s why fear is frightening That’s why we should be afraid of fear Because it stops us, cages us, Bars us behind the façade we display And muffles the words of our heart. I see these things and wonder Why can’t they change? Why can’t this need to fear be erased From the human condition? And I realize it’s because everyone Is afraid. And I’m so afraid too.
0
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Fear
All around me, I see endless fear. Fear of heights, sure, fear of scuttling things Fear of darkness, fear of bites Fear of brightness, fear of fights. This is the fear we can display Because it’s little, simple, understandable. But the fear I really fear That we all let consume us Is deeper, Darker, Cold. It’s the fear of friendship, fear of love, Fear of what’s ahead of us But even more of what’s behind us Fear to see what’s really beyond The faces we all fake. Fear of the unknowable Fear of what we know Fear of speaking out or up or for Fear of conforming to something more Fear to test the limits Fear to taste the truth Fear of what’s uncomfortable Rather than the deception of comfort Fear of what to do Fear of striving for perfection When perfection’s so unattainable. Fear of to leave what has been known Fear of what has been done Fear to see past fabrication, Fear to show the truth. I’m talking fear of emotion Or fear of not feeling enough Fear of silence, but worse, The fear of candid words. Fear to look someone in the eye And say, “I know you, And I care for you.” Fear to let someone see the darkness that comes with your light Fear of rebelling though it’s time someone did Fear of doing what you want and know Because of what someone told you you should Fear of being who you are Because every day everyone is telling you What to do and who to be And what is acceptable And what is not. I’m talking fear of having an opinion Because someone will shoot it down Fear of defense or service or selflessness Because someone won’t approve. Fear to accept because of fear of acceptance Fear to truly love someone Because it’s risky, And you never know What someone else really feels. I cry for the fear of Every person who can’t be Who they are and who can’t Let people see them in their entirety Because after all everyone urges And persuades and demands and values And idolizes and expects, You don’t even know yourself, Because you've been too busy With trying to be so many different “Someone Else"s. I ache for this relentless fear. I mourn the stagnancy of the condition Of the human soul who is so afraid To let go of fear And BE somebody, To do something or say something, or simply believe, That the only thing they truly trust Is the familiarity Of fear itself. That’s why fear is frightening That’s why we should be afraid of fear Because it stops us, cages us, Bars us behind the façade we display And muffles the words of our heart. I see these things and wonder Why can’t they change? Why can’t this need to fear be erased From the human condition? And I realize it’s because everyone Is afraid. And I’m so afraid too.
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88
—and not simply by the fact that this shading of forest cannot show the fragrance of balsam, the gloom of cypresses, is what I wish to prove. When you and I were first in love we drove to the borders of Connacht and entered a wood there. Look down you said: this was once a famine road. I looked down at ivy and the scutch grass rough-cast stone had disappeared into as you told me in the second winter of their ordeal, in 1847, when the crop had failed twice, Relief Committees gave the starving Irish such roads to build. Where they died, there the road ended and ends still and when I take down the map of this island, it is never so I can say here is the masterful, the apt rendering of the spherical as flat, nor an ingenious design which persuades a curve into a plane, but to tell myself again that the line which says woodland and cries hunger and gives out among sweet pine and cypress, and finds no horizon will not be there.
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9.2k
That the Science of Cartography Is Limited
A wind blows like a wilderness of wolves A vendetta, an apocalyptic vendetta In its unpredictable, accidental quality That swerves images of realization into tragedy Neglecting all with swift intent upon a fallen fortress In complected interests of caresses Neither invited nor encouraged yet displayed Displayed vividly with exclusive claim to that oppression That howls by casting itself as a consequence of transgression Upon a conventional expectation that claims a privileged sense That persuades without an orator grotesquely amputated shapes Extending extraordinary artifice as its priceless wealth But who, yes who, has envy of so rich a nothing
0
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Heteronormative Homophobia
Love doesn't aim to control or curb or force...rather it encourages, supports and persuades..if it does the former...then it isn't and cannot be love.
0
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Quotes 235
I open my fridge door and what do I see? A half empty bottle of beer, relishes, old vegetables and water. I close the door. My groaning stomach persuades me to open the door once more. Like an alter ego, I obey it's commands. I'm sure this time, there will be food, food that was invisible just a second ago. Food that I will see, if I look hard enough. I grab the chilled silver handle and give it a pull. Wide open swings the door to reveal food galore!-- Oh wait, there's no food, not even a decent beverage. There's still just a whole load of nothingness and hunger. A deep dark depression cuts me like a knife through butter. no food here, no food there, nothingness all around just starvation and suffering. I close the fridge. The cycle repeats itself. Such is life.
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
Empty Fridge
I read your manuscript Arose; your liquid; I sip. Wet, dripping, fingers slip. Devine intersection Your mind; intervention Your ***** companion Drenched in perfection You silence pervades Seduction persuades ******* 4 days My bad habit; both ways Soundless screams Wildest dreams **** Please Naughty-Girls tease Kingdom *** make believes.
0
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
Untitled
Don’t think too much About forbidden touch Or legal abuse of such Little creatures like dairy cows and fabric workers. Don’t feel too much. The homeless man with his crutch Can disappear, hush. Turn your head dear, eat McDonald’s chicken fingers. Don’t love too much. Why on real people crush? People slip through your clutch. As flashing lights reanimate Rihanna, both your eyes close the shutters. Our world distracts us from seeing, Persuades us we need a break. Deserving one after a day going nowhere. Turn the TV on to the latest ‘Bachelor’. So loud. So loud. So loud. Too loud! I shut my eyes from the too-bright lights. I need to escape the escape, to find solace. I put pen to paper and hear its whisper. Poetry softly roars while TV screams shrill. You’ll remember the written words for time Degrees of magnitude than you’ll remember (consciously) that singing cat meme. Real love takes more effort Than a heart reaction on Facebook. Writing truth takes longer than re-posting. Yet I want to share myself, not another gif lol. Mute the volume for a second. Can deaf ears hear again the music of the pen? Think too much.
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Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Don't Think Too Much
Mental debates of moving on and Leaving the past, she dreams Of working things out to make Them last, she’s all too familiar With solitude, its wonders, Its dedication to her companionship They walk hand in hand Looking, staring at silhouettes, still vivid and bright as the day that she first opened Her eyes to Dalia smirks, truly hurt She watches in awe As he carefully places The pieces to the puzzle of A black and white field Strategies flow easily from behind The dam that is a set of porcelain eyes Sworn to secrecy only for self fulfillment Along the checkered floor she explored Boundaries she had never encountered He leads her as his pawn of choice Through torturous escapades against Rookie creatures and staggering Horsemen They wane on her chances of successfully Obtaining the crown of glory He pushes her forward with a touch Soft and soothing, no reason To doubt his reasoning She gives up the greatest of gifts, trust In his hands she quietly moves With no complaints, forward Out toward a troublesome mine field With every space she’s placed in She’s laced with waste traced with her Demise, he plays the creator, How humorous it seems The slightest sense of secure attachment Provides a false sense of security The way he touches her persuades Her he’ll never let her fall In his embrace she doesn’t see The smirk of disgust as his face Twisted, wretched and gruesome Grins at the only pleasure she provides him Empty bliss he can only wish to fill His grasp, once tender and warm Clenches down on her with splintering pain With silent screams of despair She comes closer to her peril Glimmering crown, in the scope of her sight The only sense of hope left in her mind The next move can be her last With only hopes of a clear road As he once again guides her Calm and steady with the kindness He once displayed when she Naïvely dreamt of how her life Truly should become Her struggles slowly ease away From the pain she once felt Never showed it even in the Biggest battles he lead her through Now she lay motionless alongside her Fallen obstacles in complete darkness Six cold silent walls surround Her in her slumber until another Cruel puppeteer falls across The coffin of demise and despair
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
Pawn in hand
Mental debates of moving on and Leaving the past, she dreams Of working things out to make Them last, she’s all too familiar With solitude, its wonders, Its dedication to her companionship They walk hand in hand Looking, staring at silhouettes, still vivid and bright as the day that she first opened Her eyes to Dalia smirks, truly hurt She watches in awe As he carefully places The pieces to the puzzle of A black and white field Strategies flow easily from behind The dam that is a set of porcelain eyes Sworn to secrecy only for self fulfillment Along the checkered floor she explored Boundaries she had never encountered He leads her as his pawn of choice Through torturous escapades against Rookie creatures and staggering Horsemen They wane on her chances of successfully Obtaining the crown of glory He pushes her forward with a touch Soft and soothing, no reason To doubt his reasoning She gives up the greatest of gifts, trust In his hands she quietly moves With no complaints, forward Out toward a troublesome mine field With every space she’s placed in She’s laced with waste traced with her Demise, he plays the creator, How humorous it seems The slightest sense of secure attachment Provides a false sense of security The way he touches her persuades Her he’ll never let her fall In his embrace she doesn’t see The smirk of disgust as his face Twisted, wretched and gruesome Grins at the only pleasure she provides him Empty bliss he can only wish to fill His grasp, once tender and warm Clenches down on her with splintering pain With silent screams of despair She comes closer to her peril Glimmering crown, in the scope of her sight The only sense of hope left in her mind The next move can be her last With only hopes of a clear road As he once again guides her Calm and steady with the kindness He once displayed when she Naïvely dreamt of how her life Truly should become Her struggles slowly ease away From the pain she once felt Never showed it even in the Biggest battles he lead her through Now she lay motionless alongside her Fallen obstacles in complete darkness Six cold silent walls surround Her in her slumber until another Cruel puppeteer falls across The coffin of demise and despair
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67
her single shot pistol is smoking as you walk in her blushing bride smile is a dead give away that something is amiss he left a ballroom waltz worth of footprints all over her smile she persuades you to rent a buick ' and take the pursuit on the road so the three of us head south on the us-1 to some strange beachside town where all the girls are bubble gum machines and the boys are paint by number boxing fans but we finally catch the thin fatman sitting on a beach-chair sipping tea and lookie-louing yachts from nantucket she kisses and makes up with him and you know that your romantic days are over and she gives no reason but she got a soft spot for his three piece suit lifestyle brooks brothers got nothing on him he gets his threads form the five and dime pockets full of pickles bread in his thinning hair
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
pockets full of pickles
Acceptance persuades the release of a wavering spirit's decision Deeply invading the majestic powers employed With a false caress in a soft hush of a trusting notice Swiftly crumbling into a distinctive void Manipulation clearly receives delight in the pleasure Provided freely as a marvelous ploy To confine the wavering spirit in a restraining desert By the distinctive void containing no joy Alone and isolated in a twist of silent acceptance Fate begins bartering with a radiant light To command a truce without any persuading acceptance To try and avoid the coldest of desert nights A triumph disguised as failure has persuaded the release Of the wavering spirit trapped in the void No truce is accepted, still the radiant light has brought The wavering spirit such incredible joy
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Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
No Surrender
Maybe we have to argue Let our ugly side ensue To test whether or not We are really that glued. Maybe it is necessary To check the natural nasty If we are when petty things occur A presage for stormier weather. Maybe it is for our sake Raise our voice in conflict See if we are strong enough When life is more than tough. Because when times are good Our friendship is much valued We are as lovely As we will ever be An unbreakable link And no ship to sink. But it is when times are rough That persuades if love is enough We are divine When times are fine But our ability to sort things out Will see if we will ever fall out.
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Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 3:47 AM UTC
Maybe we have to argue
The strokes, of my brush, against the Canvas, depict the features, forming the image, of you, my Romeo. Hazel eyes mesmerize me, revealing the key, to your soul. An alluring smile, intrigues my interest, dreaming of your lips, caressing my own. The view of your form, exposes your body, embellished in ****** similar to the gods, of Greek and Roman antiquity, intoxicates me. As I finish, my masterpiece, temptation persuades me, to move towards, you, my male model, to render, my artistic expression. You gaze into my eyes, yearning to taste, my lips as passion emanates, from our kiss. You come closer to me, removing my blouse, with your firm hands, brushing against my torso. You lower yourself down, to your knees, unzipping my paint-splattered jeans, with your teeth. After the removal, of my garments, you carry me, into the bedroom, gently placing, me upon your bed. Your breath warms, my skin, as you strike, my exterior, with the blade of lust, fiercely thrusting, in the heat, of the night. Our bodies unite, interweaving our souls, igniting an intimate explosion, between ourselves, consuming our spirits. A safe haven, becomes my reality, as I lay into your arms, whispering sweet nothings, to enchant your ears. I drift into slumber, resting my head, upon your chest, holding your hand, as my world, is at peace. I awake before you, leaving to create works of art, write sensual poetry, reflecting on my thoughts, of you, to reveal my admiration, for you, my soul-mate, brought to me, by the hands of Venus.
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Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
Safe Haven of An Artist
The strokes, of my brush, against the Canvas, depict the features, forming the image, of you, my Romeo. Hazel eyes mesmerize me, revealing the key, to your soul. An alluring smile, intrigues my interest, dreaming of your lips, caressing my own. The view of your form, exposes your body, embellished in ****** similar to the gods, of Greek and Roman antiquity, intoxicates me. As I finish, my masterpiece, temptation persuades me, to move towards, you, my male model, to render, my artistic expression. You gaze into my eyes, yearning to taste, my lips as passion emanates, from our kiss. You come closer to me, removing my blouse, with your firm hands, brushing against my torso. You lower yourself down, to your knees, unzipping my paint-splattered jeans, with your teeth. After the removal, of my garments, you carry me, into the bedroom, gently placing, me upon your bed. Your breath warms, my skin, as you strike, my exterior, with the blade of lust, fiercely thrusting, in the heat, of the night. Our bodies unite, interweaving our souls, igniting an intimate explosion, between ourselves, consuming our spirits. A safe haven, becomes my reality, as I lay into your arms, whispering sweet nothings, to enchant your ears. I drift into slumber, resting my head, upon your chest, holding your hand, as my world, is at peace. I awake before you, leaving to create works of art, write sensual poetry, reflecting on my thoughts, of you, to reveal my admiration, for you, my soul-mate, brought to me, by the hands of Venus.
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80
All that I am or hope to be I owe to my ANGEL mother… Born as a child in this world.. But brought up by a divine fairy as if in paradise.. I’LL REMEMBER.. Greeted, loved, blessed, praised n cherished all in one sway.. The blessful hands on my forehead.. I’LL REMEMBER.. Scoffed, scolded, sometimes thrashed but then instantly forgiven.. That love.. I’LL REMEMBER.. The moderating essence of love and care.. Fulfilling all our yearns n neglecting her’s but still always a pretty smile.. I’LL REMEMBER.. Beginning with alphabets, stories, proses and now counseling afflictions of life.. All that persuades.. I’LL REMEMBER.. Your sacrifices, your devotion, your calmness, your essence.. Your love.. I’LL REMEMBER.. I wish every mother was like mines.. So my luck.. I’LL REMEMBER.. In this world everyone can betray but mother being the only exception.. I’LL REMEMBER.. Your divine countenance, your peerless smile, your adoring eyes.. Lovely u.. I’LL REMEMBER.. Love u mumma.. Thanks for giving life to me first and then becoming MINES…
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Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 7:47 AM UTC
MY ANGEL..
I need a release, a relief from this pressure. A cessation of the flooding, An infestation of the catalytic chemicals that feed my brain The battle for attention is overwhelmed by anatomy, keeping me on the fringes of insanity I can't control it, only roll with it, embrace and encase this energy inside Projecting my being; rejecting the snares, the lack of cares that fill the air Cognitive dissonance entertains and persuades the whispers within as they swirl and whirl their tracers are all that remain The red of satisfaction yet to be attained, a heart unrestrained and a feeling still unnamed.
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Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
Fringes of Insanity
Shots fired armor donned shielding the softness displayed so openly in the springtime haze of youth fear chokes trust persuades us that everyone is hiding a knife up their sleeve we package up our vulnerability wrap our heart in bubble wrap expecting each wound to bleed a little less but healing is impossible in the absence of oxygen. Esther L. Krenzin.
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Jun 9, 2022
Jun 9, 2022 at 11:34 AM UTC
Absence of Oxygen
Lovely, Lovely come and smother. Lonely is this putrid slumber. Satan’s allure shines in the night To blacken pure hearts without plight. Burning, lusting tempts within: When will my virtue end? He persuades “This is right To give up without a fight.” Lonely, Lonely still am I. Untouched, Unloved in man’s eye. For I do not give what is mine. For purest souls meet divine. Bored and lonely is my life. God is my lover, I his wife. Corrupt can gawk at pure charm But doing duty does no harm.
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Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 6:56 AM UTC
The ******
Tear these walls rip them down Nothing left to be found Except for skies of brighter days The brilliance of it persuades Me to redeem myself From the burdens exile Don’t make a big promise And prove that you’re weak Make me a promise You promise to keep Something for my worries Something for my sleep Something for these dreams I have of finally being free Paint these walls bright and new Something resilient Paint a vision that requires truth Paint a wonderful work of art Paint something brilliant Comfortably content Paint this vision that I see Into something flying free Paint these hills into skies Ocean bound widened eyes Grow from a seed Extend vertically From a crack in concrete Stretching with relief
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Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
New Scenery
Why do I love you? How do I know? A simple "I know why because I just I feel it," would not suffice, Because the answer you seek must be Poetic Justice. But yet I'm feeling like Young and The Restless, Pondering on these questions, During my private session of meditation. We're not always on the same page, but overlap each other to give new meanings like Metaphors. Despite the differences, we come together as our common interest connects our likes like Similes. As we let our curiosity play on as we find new meaning to this love, no Pun intended. "The Sneetches" is the perfect allegory about the tolerance of people's differences. I just thought I should mention this for a pictorial image of how I feel, Your words paint vivid pictures, I can hear your imagery. Our love is the strongest form, there is no hyperbole. You're the Personification of how it feels to smile. Your Rhetoric persuades me to go that extra mile. My perseverance perfectly prepares me to pursue every inch of your portrait. It's that sweet taste of alliteration that describes you in every way. My love for you is like the wind, it will take you wherever you want to go, And I'll be there waiting with open arms. There's no perfect analogy to describe how I feel about you , But since life is too deep for words, I won't try to try describe it, I'll just live it with you. Figuratively speaking, if my heart was a glass of ***** water, I'll pour it out for you, There's no perfect sign, at this perfect time, to use the perfect rhyme, to express my emotions to you. Instead I'll show you the hopeless romantic that I am....
0
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
Poetic Justice
Why do I love you? How do I know? A simple "I know why because I just I feel it," would not suffice, Because the answer you seek must be Poetic Justice. But yet I'm feeling like Young and The Restless, Pondering on these questions, During my private session of meditation. We're not always on the same page, but overlap each other to give new meanings like Metaphors. Despite the differences, we come together as our common interest connects our likes like Similes. As we let our curiosity play on as we find new meaning to this love, no Pun intended. "The Sneetches" is the perfect allegory about the tolerance of people's differences. I just thought I should mention this for a pictorial image of how I feel, Your words paint vivid pictures, I can hear your imagery. Our love is the strongest form, there is no hyperbole. You're the Personification of how it feels to smile. Your Rhetoric persuades me to go that extra mile. My perseverance perfectly prepares me to pursue every inch of your portrait. It's that sweet taste of alliteration that describes you in every way. My love for you is like the wind, it will take you wherever you want to go, And I'll be there waiting with open arms. There's no perfect analogy to describe how I feel about you , But since life is too deep for words, I won't try to try describe it, I'll just live it with you. Figuratively speaking, if my heart was a glass of ***** water, I'll pour it out for you, There's no perfect sign, at this perfect time, to use the perfect rhyme, to express my emotions to you. Instead I'll show you the hopeless romantic that I am....
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Existence is questioning Only without ever thinking The psyche is completed Of inadequate details Wasting of a day declaiming The ever-present contemplation That constantly inhabits And persuades on the lips The tongues of descended seraphs There’s a tourist in the channel Vocalizations in various extraneous idioms I thought it’d subsist But it’s never unchanged An exhausted hallucination Diminishing portions by the slice The end consequence is forever Eternity poles apart
0
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 9:51 AM UTC
Dog-Tired Notions
Promises made beneath the moonlight amass in unison To sing their entrancing song to the stars Intoxicating lyrics so sweetly sung in harmony Persuades the most radiant one to brightly beam from afar Such alluring suggestions ring throughout each stanza Compelling the brightest star to outshine Each of its bright companions with its luminous light As its own shining radiance, it refines Reaching out into the heavens, the star beams with delight Burning with all the essence it holds inside Awaiting all the promises made beneath the moonlight Anxiously hoping that its light does not subside
0
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 7:54 PM UTC
Refine
He holds me tightly with warm embrace. His hands pull me into his beating chest. Like galloping horses his heart starts to race. His heart whispers forever stay. What lips, his lips, what emotions they create. With heated passion, they roam, they travel. As his lips linger leaving me in a frozen state. His kisses plead don’t go away. Those eyes stare deeper than they can see. They pierce through my inner being. What love in his eyes, his love grows free. Stay in my presence his eyes persuades me. When he laughs, what a cheerful sound. That creates an inner joy in me. And when he smiles, my heart falls down. I know that he wants me to stay around. And because he’s telling me stay forever. Through every action that he portrays. Just because I’ll leave him never, I’ll stay, I’ll stay forever. Because I’m telling you stay too. Forever, I’ll stay, forever with you. Forever I’ll stay, forever with you.
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Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
STAY FOREVER
Tight-fisted chest thinks it's protecting itself from the evening thunder and all that it portends. Unaware of its dilemma, the distant sound of a faint rainfall gently persuades itself into its grip, loosening it. The blessing occurs. The tears fall.
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Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC
Tight-fisted Chest
"I should" a solemn voice in the head is all grumble, dutiful with condemnation, a heavy oppression. desirous flight is persuaded to stay afoot by what it should: a culturally defined, mental- artifact, of what one supposedly must, oft devoid of one can- will, but won't, out of fear. doubt, like chains on dreams, easily persuades the mind into mundane plains of guilt ridden sorrows, cut out by knives of shame, choking the present tense of what shall, strapped in and unfulfilled, hollow and holding, like an anchor in a reservoir of regretful undertakings, sticky with ought, fierce like flagellation lashing, imprisoning visions: victimized       by expectations,                 negations of choice:                              stomping on the souls good will,                              starving the free heart,                              shackling the mind. operations from a place complacent with banality and viciousness in some quiet take over          some woe of status-quo       waging with shaky scaffolding    and the numbing    dumb         timber of nothing a dull aching noise . enough.   turn off:    the over beaten       dead skull             thumping   with outside pressure                 be silent               to hear                                 there is an inner music more in tune with life than anything you've been told by the force of should or should not.
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Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
the battle of should
"I should" a solemn voice in the head is all grumble, dutiful with condemnation, a heavy oppression. desirous flight is persuaded to stay afoot by what it should: a culturally defined, mental- artifact, of what one supposedly must, oft devoid of one can- will, but won't, out of fear. doubt, like chains on dreams, easily persuades the mind into mundane plains of guilt ridden sorrows, cut out by knives of shame, choking the present tense of what shall, strapped in and unfulfilled, hollow and holding, like an anchor in a reservoir of regretful undertakings, sticky with ought, fierce like flagellation lashing, imprisoning visions: victimized       by expectations,                 negations of choice:                              stomping on the souls good will,                              starving the free heart,                              shackling the mind. operations from a place complacent with banality and viciousness in some quiet take over          some woe of status-quo       waging with shaky scaffolding    and the numbing    dumb         timber of nothing a dull aching noise . enough.   turn off:    the over beaten       dead skull             thumping   with outside pressure                 be silent               to hear                                 there is an inner music more in tune with life than anything you've been told by the force of should or should not.
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74
By Arcassin Burnham I be really chill as **** Chill as **** Technically on the break but that's all in my head, Penitentiary mindset but no longer locked up, you didn't hear from me, So that's not what I said, Moving around the creases , in and out of situations , not my main occupation, But I'm working up the nerve to live and survive and survive, And I don't know how long I could stay alive , in this ongoing cycle, Throw your feelings out ,recycle, I be really chill as **** Chill as **** Let the chamomile flow though the veins and such, I got a, Soft spot for nature in my own little way, Nobody else strong enough to evade my space, Ya hear me, Really chill , to the point of no return from this cloud that I'm on, I could never come down off this plane, its real strange, But I'm sane, Chill I'm telling you. / Don't drag your partners down along with ya' to the grave, When fakeness is engrave into their brains like a bad movie that Persuades ,never know, might bring the pain, Shut up, Close your eyes, Matter of fact open them, stay awake, Trust no one, Talk to everyone, Don't become a dead body in a lake, Don't seal your fate, You planned this ,You planned this, You planned this, don't run from it, You planned this ,the parasite lingers like A therapist, You planned this, There's no other way to say your views are distorted, Turning every which way as a sign, It's a crime, systems take over your life, You didn't plan it, But they planned it, This is propaganda we've been handed, Your life expectancy isn't really candid, I know we all gotta' die someday , lie awake somewhere, Don't be a bandit or a sinner, that’s impossible, Is this country really free ? Is it optional ? The feds will hold , a grudge to different race cause their superiors told, I feel like life is game without the checkmates, It never gets old.
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Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 12:28 AM UTC
Chill As **** / Planned It
By Arcassin Burnham I be really chill as **** Chill as **** Technically on the break but that's all in my head, Penitentiary mindset but no longer locked up, you didn't hear from me, So that's not what I said, Moving around the creases , in and out of situations , not my main occupation, But I'm working up the nerve to live and survive and survive, And I don't know how long I could stay alive , in this ongoing cycle, Throw your feelings out ,recycle, I be really chill as **** Chill as **** Let the chamomile flow though the veins and such, I got a, Soft spot for nature in my own little way, Nobody else strong enough to evade my space, Ya hear me, Really chill , to the point of no return from this cloud that I'm on, I could never come down off this plane, its real strange, But I'm sane, Chill I'm telling you. / Don't drag your partners down along with ya' to the grave, When fakeness is engrave into their brains like a bad movie that Persuades ,never know, might bring the pain, Shut up, Close your eyes, Matter of fact open them, stay awake, Trust no one, Talk to everyone, Don't become a dead body in a lake, Don't seal your fate, You planned this ,You planned this, You planned this, don't run from it, You planned this ,the parasite lingers like A therapist, You planned this, There's no other way to say your views are distorted, Turning every which way as a sign, It's a crime, systems take over your life, You didn't plan it, But they planned it, This is propaganda we've been handed, Your life expectancy isn't really candid, I know we all gotta' die someday , lie awake somewhere, Don't be a bandit or a sinner, that’s impossible, Is this country really free ? Is it optional ? The feds will hold , a grudge to different race cause their superiors told, I feel like life is game without the checkmates, It never gets old.
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