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"plating" poems
I dreamed of going to a ball once, all in red and gold--like Settareh from the old tales. Only, I had no pari to help me. My veil was secondhand, my gown plain, and my anklets of paste and plating instead of diamonds and gold. But there was this boy, you see. Not a prince, not the captain of a ship or a faerie lord, not a warrior, a healer or a mage...just a boy. And I had the barest will-o’-the-wisp’s hope that he would dance with me.
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
I Dreamed of Going to a Ball Once
They stopped making Pennies out of Copper here in the US back in 1982 because it was literally too expensive per Penny to mint them; now they're Zinc with a very thin copper plating. Pennies made between 1909 and 1982 weigh in at 3.1g: 95% Copper; worth 2.5 Cents. Pennies made after 1982 weigh in at 2.5g: 97.5% Zinc, 2.5% Copper; worth .45 Cents. They started to lose Money on the minting of Pennies; I feel that this is indicative of a deeper-rooted problem than can be fixed by switching the composition of a Coin. Pennies now are worth about a fifth of what they were just over Thirty years ago; Yet they still represent the same integer of Currency. The American Dollar has seen better days The American Dollar seems on it's last legs. Back in the day, money was fixed to mineral values, but it seems now that Money is in the Eye of the Beholder, rather than the Hand of the Holder.
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
They're literally getting rich on our Pennies
We count cells by manual methods, Using the counting chamber, Plating & colony forming unit count. We let them be counted automatedly, Using electrical resistance, Flow cytometry & image analysis. Then there is this indirect method too, Using spectrophotometry we count, Or even by the impedance microbiology.
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Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
Counting
From sixteen to sixty And all the days in between From a lassie then a lady To the woman in my dream From sketch book to painting From wondering and waiting To building and creating With fireworks and gold plating From all that you mean To being my queen From nowhere to forever And all the days in between.
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May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
All The Days In Between
a lone something in the sky flies near, just by mischance dazed by the smog, bowing and diving downward into the parting, cracking, quaking bellowing of tar from the firy, sputtering lungs of these alps eons worth of cries released in mere mouth-ajar gasps of the earth diverging and converging into the debt of always running clean, running me always downward, as in the deep deep tessellations of rock I become. too still for my own good, I guess – another voice on the ash-flow tuffs of breath to fill the mosaic of sinewy stripe-patterned goodbye and bygone plating into the deep, deep, deeper caverns of the unseen sea slipping off the mantle, an accident with intention, as an echo caving downward into   nothing, nothing, more nothing polluting the depths from the palisades, scripture rupturing lowshore into surrounding tissues like igneous stone dreams of clinks ringing, of noise a voice on the ash-flow tuffs in the always running-clean water the purity of which I intercept, the clear-ness of it; a sinners window. through what's left, I see the clam another mouth for and of the sea unseen, the pearl as unsoiled as ever
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Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
Vulcan
It beeps and beeps Letting me know I'm still alive Heart pounding strong Walking up hills and down valleys Straight lines every now and again I wonder if you can hear me The silence of my tongue Pulsating on the heart monitor Trying to reassure you that I'll pull through Beep...beep....beep Its kind of funny Robotics copying the sound of my heart A hollow frame of metallic plating With scared thoughts hiding on every pulse I wonder what would happen If I awoke from this vegetated state And hugged you If my brain would function again And form a three word phrase But the way the heart monitor is Shows how slow my heart beats Shows the seconds I no longer have with you One more beep I'll keep it going Hoping to see your face once more Hoping I can see joy fall from your eyes I can't keep going I hear you reading poems Talking to both our parents Trying to find peace as your world fades I'm sorry I wasn't stronger To keep myself alive longer Maybe I can tell you I love you With the way this heart monitor beats Let me die, let it beat thrice, let you know I'll be by your side Even if there is no afterlife But dying with your hand in mine Is a better way then how the paramedics found me
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Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
Last Thoughts Of A Dying Man
Got two poems up for plating Lines in layers, piled in waiting Even if they've been outdated- That never stopped me baking. A chocolate-centered senryu A haiku pastry, maybe two I'll throw in a little freestyle verse To feed some hungry youth.
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Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 3:10 PM UTC
Oven for a brain
I cringe watching my daily replay. My thoughts of change being just that, thoughts. Thought never fully brought forth into the distant light of reality. The ceiling mocks me as I lay in bed in the depths of the night, plating seeds of a new day in infertile soil. My position here has become one of frustration. I can't help but laugh at feeble attempts of reaching higher ground. Treading water here in this cesspool of stale emotion does not bother me. I only wish to see the shore.
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Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
Thoughts
my frame : a distant composition of cellophane a streak in stained-glass clear cut plating throbbing romance possibly waiting your agapē is my canopy an all-koinonia embrace don’t leave me stranded
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
cellophane
he is a robotic man clad in a suit or iron which is the only thing anchoring him to this place foot steps leave dents in the ground huge heaving strides a step with a purpose cold to the touch filled with dangerous mechanisms only vulnerable on the inside but nobody can crack the plating pulled by magnetic fields He is lifeless tight like a nerve charging up passionate energy which comes out in laser beam explosions a sentinel less human with every sunset he puts mankind in his cross hairs and opens fire an Iron man who was once simply, just a man
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 9:53 AM UTC
Iron Man
Leaden feet Soul heavy Constriction wracks my chest Eyesight fading out at best Every step Burdens me Drowing out my screams They don't know what i mean Cold are we Faceless sea The crowd is sundered With a sound of thunder Chemical feeling Rising faster Black metal plating Hidden by color Nausea knowlage Turning over Sterile and voiceless Overpowered The second freezes and the door explodes One or two to every home The crowd plays on A silver show And all of mine are on their own Masqurade The masks are on Every sillable of every song The Loss of feeling I have no doubt And they are carried off A few rounds pop off The music stops For a split second order holds everyone still as stone Then my life is taken before my naked eyes And I wake up here, alone, surrounded by the flock My heart has been torn from my chest God give me strength
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Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Parade 3/4
To be unable to sleep without a drink in my system To be unable to feel love, but seek it To not know what beholds for me But crave something I feel so incredibly alone, Summer is over and my birthday is tomorrow I feel so low, all time low I need something to believe in, A war to fight for To serve a purpose other than plating overpriced proteins I feel stuck, unable to get myself out of this rut It is 6 in the morning and I haven't slept yet Im not tired Falling skies and exposed bricks Life has proven to be hard for me I feel it all, everything I've done wrong But I just cant let love feel I am so incredibly alone
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
To Be Able
Holy Roman Empire and its Hakenkreuz. I hear it in my spirit, It starts to fall, Flake even. In open areas of sylvan and pastoral jazz. On the iron plating of Spandau, situated at The confluence of the Havel and Spree. Along the rails of "we the children from Zoo Station." Inside the books about Katharina, the burned out postmaster. And at no daylight, no time frame —the Final Solution, Auschwitz. I hear it in my spirit, It starts to fall, Tell me how I fear it. Do we buy hatred for our health? Is it really worth the taste?
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Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 8:47 AM UTC
Snow in Berlin
and i'm the dumb one that said you weren't dumb and you were the intelligent one that said hello, may as well enjoy the rocky mountains with mt. rushmore shave; to keep it all under wraps of a hollywood movie that never made it from scripts. yeah you asked to be treated as dumb, and i asked to be treated as a wizard, evidently both of us became middle class debates on parenting: white man's neck muscles became black girl's hypnotic celluloid hip arsenal, and i faked a combo of each in comparison: while rolling a wine barrel up a steep hill for a laughing horse in exchange for three magic kidneys that were categorised as baked bean & ****** oh lawd the giant came from the heights, with the magic goose ******** out golden swastikas rather than eggs of date printed 1933, holocaust unknown khaki shirts prior the schwarzhemd recycled for marble marrow statues, like gold carat plating of statues with beneath only cheap metal... but then the atomic authenticity measuring cylinder in u-turn to provoke such animate extension into theory of inanimate things that animate things provoked inanimate things to ask whether the one promise be worth blind acceptance or eyed destruction via logic itemising in coupling of two base words - after all neither psyche or logic are acidic words... they're base words... but coupling two base words leaves an aftermath of acidic reactionaries more prone than the singleton word **** that's acidic.
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Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
what's that slang? / ani tu ani tu
It’s still lurking, always waiting These thoughts intruding can’t be ignored Coming and going yet still no abating. After so long, surely it must be fading; But with one odd cue to be suddenly restored; No, it’s still there, lurking, always waiting. Coating sight with its own bleak plating, Is there some strange goal it aims toward, With this coming and going but no abating? With its grim dusk so many times shading, Stealing moments you dearly afford. It’s still there lurking, always waiting. Where does it hide between its fierce invading? So silent and sure wherever it’s shored, As it keeps coming and going yet not abating Anything for respite is up for trading, But such a perk it never would award No, always it will be there lurking, waiting, Relentlessly coming and going, but never abating.
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Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
Where Does the Pain Go?
An oyster’s grit accumulating new layers of aragonite and calcite, contributing, plating the growing bright translucent white and crystalizing hard, pellucid wan pearl – that forms within the mucid molluscan slimy dank inside – a creamy gem is calcified. Diaphanous and lustrous jewel or septic and necrotic stone that’s like a canker which has grown into an opulent fat spherule? A pearl forms round a piece of grit, my childhood at the heart of it.
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Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 2:42 PM UTC
The Jewel
Where do those eyes lye Eyes oh, those Eyes that do lye dry in the lines of gazing sites. Your consistent Admiration deserves consideration and the universe eyes lyes on participation now that deserves admiration Sensation- from not 1, not from 2,but from 3 over standing conversations that left the room stimulating. Con-tem-plating while de-bating.Just waiting for Simple convertstating. But That haha turns into lol's as the universe embraces atmosphere. Activating all neurons to a 100% complete to the tip of the peer. Hidden behind glass jars next to fancy fenced out bars of just a star. A star wanting to be a galaxy and burst into a Cosmo-ess erosion. Pause. The time is here. The time is near. Soon the 9 will appear. The Eye hops in the grass no more i can say I have much sense now. And you see, my reach is ****** and the gap between know- ledge is exactly what might make me take this leap...... On to the streets of not giving a **** In too deep. The universe does not sleep, only peeps. Peeps from the nest. The best in the highest tree. Mountain top minds that measures divine! She just wants to be Words written on blank spaces....everywhere in time...... Its time..................
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
*Where do those eyes lye*
Spanish proverb " the belly rules the mind " .. Let's start then.. Firstly you must have all the ingredients ready Your mind ( as per you ) Imagination 50gms Dreams 20 gms Inspiration 30 gms Feelings 100 gms Now Rinse your mind thoroughly With universal calmness And marinate with sanity Next Butter it up forever With inspiration Make sure it's lucid Now again Create a wrapping of feelings Careful add the least hate And let it heat in the oven of trials That's enough not more than a lifetime Very important the plating Take a clean sheet of life Lay it over carefully garnish with your experiences And I guess that's ready THE PERFECT RECIPE!
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
The perfect recipe!
Melancholy at ease. no matter what there is no peace. a country full of sugar coating.               bleeding tears covered by toxic plating. Fools inherit the sweetest alibi. yet behind that is a darkest lie. the king's tyranny makes it's supporters greedy. But the people starve they become needy. False hope came like wildfire. Injustice flows to the river as pure as sapphire. Kingdom price gives nothing but hunger strike. Lost in greed impaled by a poisonous pike. Kings and queens pampered with luxury. while the people suffered from poverty. Piracy as revolution. To the poor with no solution. Cries of the people unheard. Working to become a freebird. A broken rosary tainted by sweet hatred. The ruler's behavior symbolizes putrid.
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Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 8:06 AM UTC
Les Cicatrices
*Why must we fall even when there's none to catch us? Why? Is love a blessing or a curse? Is it truth or lie? Why must we lose our hearts to their breakers? To little palms that will ultimately release them aground Why must we be seekers? Why do we only feel at peace with another soul around? Why must we spend sleepless nights contemplating Who our hearts whole shall mend? Why not opt for self electro-plating? So that we own hard metallic hearts to the end? Why do we embrace vulnerability in the name of being human? Why is passion such an embraced tumor?*
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
WHY?
distorted slop fed through a Marshall stack attacking power cords with abhorrent abandon random lyrics of pain based guilt quilted the patchwork of ******* jocks and played out arena rock Kool-Aid dye job and slobbish hand-me-downs earth tones, greens and browns and drowning in the Northwest rain insane solos played eating Rollo’s enslaved to paved roads and dope fiend modes Kurt’s hurt and flannel shirt lifted the dirt off my heart and set me apart from the sheep faced high school mistakes faking tans to look totally Spring Break holding onto hate and plating fate next to kale chips and goose pate’ fame gorged but a porridge boy knows no joy under the employ of capitalism…… answer in hand the shot rang and one million tear-eyed teens sang sad songs of pain and lament replaying images of a ****** prophet, heaven sent –
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Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
reflecting on Cobain
Rage is the emotion with a love plating. Knowing I can't make her love me the way that she used to kills me in everyway. She stays with me, she holds on, for what I don't know. We patch the hole in our relationship, but down the road the tear grows bigger... deeper. The words become more hurtful, the fights go on forever. Neither of us want to surrender, so the war continues. I'm not half the man I used to be, yet she hangs on to the man that is dead in me for dear life. Is this love?
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Is this love? Pt.2
Descended stars nestle in the trees outside the stadium supplemental moonlight whitewashes the locusts pearly lines linger on the tar black sea crickets creak on the screen door of summer. Round white stars swirl in elderberry blackness. Stare. Long enough to see them meet head on Collide. Spinning in slow motion celestial pinballs sliding across exploding endless night shattering sparks that rise gold Embers into purple shaded trees falling in silver plating the grass to face the amaranthine dawn
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Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
After Practice