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"phonology" poems
∞ ___Name the word, for the word has a name.___ _Listen to it breathe. Let it lie lightly in the mind and liquid on the tongue. Bear its essence forth, its personality and its intention - conceived briefly, discarded readily, pronounced forcefully. ∞ How does it sit with you? The spread of its silhouette suspended within a silent interval. How does it move you? An attitude framed by the gesture of a hand. Is its pitch sharp or flat, its texture course or fine? ∞ Allow meaning and resonance, intonation and feeling to merge unencumbered; the syntax of the imprisoned soul, emancipated by a river of sound, to mould the shape of your aboutness, around and within, beyond and in spite of..._ ___And hear consciousness dance.___ ∞
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Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 7:42 PM UTC
THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF PHONOLOGY
you are syntax and semantics phonetics and phonology you are written and oral formal and informal you are past and future now and forever you are identity and heritage togetherness and uniqueness you are simple and complex imperfect and perfect you are language.
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May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 4:05 PM UTC
language
I don't rhyme stuff just to rhyme it Though I do it all the time. It Seems to follow some odd pattern Though it doesn't seem to matter. Words just fall into their spot. It tends to happen quite a lot. Take this here, for one example- Use it as a simple sample- I can't help it; It's my nature... Syntax, meter, nomenclature. (And if I've offended thee with my skewed-phonology, I bow and beg and plead. For it is only silly rhyme I Tend to write from time to time To make your eyeballs bleed. To make your eyeballs bleed I do with verse obscure and all askew And dire opinion spake) So if I have offended thee Just take a nap and you will see My meaning when you wake.
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Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 7:57 AM UTC
Poem Stuff
No, really, I'm good, I'll keep the shoes. No rubbing needed, your hands aren't quite articulate They don't speak our language to seminarians So it ends up that one can only speculate The ravages of a begotten forlorn past Has set in motion a mind set of complete absolutism No place like a supposed safe and warm abode                             ? When perhaps it's more like we all have a substitutism I love the warm ruby red glow of the shoes It sooths the sadness and melancholy freeing my apogee Was I lied to when told there was no place like home                             !? Or did I just loose my way down the road to phonology                              ? After all these years I have to chuckle a laugh You thought I misplaced the object of your aspiration They are good as new, shining for all the World to see Forever inscribed upon the frequency of adoration
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Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 6:02 PM UTC
I'm Good, I'll Keep the Shoes
*** stop hoeing" "I have,        but my illness has faded,                 so i'll do other things, like... There's marriage and there's work to do, there's plenty hobbies too! There's studying, playing, writing, food! And don't forget to **** I like to browse the Internet, and check up on a friend. To take a walk, or better yet, to bulk-up, self-defend! And reading etymology, and entomology! Biology, phonology, even cocktomology!"
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Feb 1, 2023
Feb 1, 2023 at 9:40 AM UTC
*** stop hoeing