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"praiseworthy" poems
In go the stabs to my synthetic skin. Sew my eyes, recreate them with the charm of Rumpelstiltskin’s tricks. Stitch my lips, Color them with the scarlet of Snow White’s cursed apple. Snip my hairs, String together the golden threads of Rapunzel’s deathly charm. Stuff my ******* Fill them with the ingredients of witches’ wildest fantasies. Mold my legs, Fit them in for the glasswork of Cinderella shoes. Tattoo my heart, make each beat a praiseworthy beauty.
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May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC
Birth of Venus
What is beauty? What makes one thing more attractive than another? How does beauty fade in our eyes when nothing outside has changed? What is ugliness? What makes one thing more attractive than another? Why does something ugly become beautiful even though nothing outside has changed? What is the difference between these two stanzas? When a pretty girl looks ugly because of her inner awareness… When an ugly girl displays attractive virtues in her inner awareness… Why can’t I meet a girl that shows outer and inner beauty? If a girl was treated like coal all its life she would only know it was a jewel to those that had the time to see the truth within. If a girl was treated like a jewel all its life She would not be treated differently even if she didn’t show praiseworthy qualities, But may show these qualities due to reciprocity. Only when that lump of coal is treated enough like a jewel will it wish to shape itself like one. Only when that jewel appreciates her attention will she shape herself like one.
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
Beauty's Deadly Rose
Those unchained melodies are heard- slayed and naked, like a lost soul- wand'ring along a village; a dejected village! And hark, hark to how they plead! O, how they beg to be alive, to be free from the deadness of these winds. But no-one greets them, with a handful of care!-how ill, and thievery is, such inattentiveness! What a smug egotism!-For these areth living creatures, not lurking shadows as they'th seemed! Blackened willows, stiffened dust; trembling trees, affronted branches- bending in their nakedness, a scene of vulgarity with no ******* and sensations- to capture attention, o, am'rous attention! How poor these humans are! Brutes are they to natureth-dappled with disgrace, insincerely prayin' for more and more to feed their ungrateful innuendoes-which prey on their mortality-to fascinate their tongue, and ***** And elements with no such marks are out of them, no thinking is set on them; no moreth! Peek, peek now, at how those bountiful thorns blureth, and dieth!-at the scorn and rivalry amongst humans-and still no-one bothers kindethly-to eventh peek at 'em, yon miserable, pitiful creatures! But 'ose humans, whose spitefulness is awayth from b'ing praiseworthy, are aboundth with death; cannot they defy it, inescapable as it's always been-for death is not destined to dieth-never! Thus thy sins, humans, wilt swing thy joys into swamps of guilt, denial, and suffrage-be unafraid of which, straighten thy chins-for these are all what thou'th deserved, all along! Thou'th betrayed nature, and now thy souls wilt be thy subtlest enemy-thy veiled threat!- beware of 'tis, but still perchance, it is futile to exhort thee-now and again! Thou art stained with remorse, and prefereth doth thou-to follow thy own course, rather than nature's bliss's vows.
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
Unchained Melodies
Those unchained melodies are heard- slayed and naked, like a lost soul- wand'ring along a village; a dejected village! And hark, hark to how they plead! O, how they beg to be alive, to be free from the deadness of these winds. But no-one greets them, with a handful of care!-how ill, and thievery is, such inattentiveness! What a smug egotism!-For these areth living creatures, not lurking shadows as they'th seemed! Blackened willows, stiffened dust; trembling trees, affronted branches- bending in their nakedness, a scene of vulgarity with no ******* and sensations- to capture attention, o, am'rous attention! How poor these humans are! Brutes are they to natureth-dappled with disgrace, insincerely prayin' for more and more to feed their ungrateful innuendoes-which prey on their mortality-to fascinate their tongue, and ***** And elements with no such marks are out of them, no thinking is set on them; no moreth! Peek, peek now, at how those bountiful thorns blureth, and dieth!-at the scorn and rivalry amongst humans-and still no-one bothers kindethly-to eventh peek at 'em, yon miserable, pitiful creatures! But 'ose humans, whose spitefulness is awayth from b'ing praiseworthy, are aboundth with death; cannot they defy it, inescapable as it's always been-for death is not destined to dieth-never! Thus thy sins, humans, wilt swing thy joys into swamps of guilt, denial, and suffrage-be unafraid of which, straighten thy chins-for these are all what thou'th deserved, all along! Thou'th betrayed nature, and now thy souls wilt be thy subtlest enemy-thy veiled threat!- beware of 'tis, but still perchance, it is futile to exhort thee-now and again! Thou art stained with remorse, and prefereth doth thou-to follow thy own course, rather than nature's bliss's vows.
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40
the Webster's, the Merriam's, residents of the Oxford say not, an exclamation or a noun, but an action, a doing word, not so much... as a poet~sorcerer digressing rules, is my input appetizer, poems, my exported entrées all posted to be dessert for all the sweet tooth parts of you all to feast on this process, when I hallelujah you... "Praise the Lord" the translation literal but sojourn herewith me for a few extants, together, let's invigorate, expand the understanding of an ever expansive definition... if I ever fall out of love, with natural words, can no longer hallelujah/scribe to memorialize why we claim, we are alive.... hallelujah's praises for you all the master designers' praiseworthy creations, an extension of themselves, they said in each human godlike spark hallelujah installed there is nothing more godlike than being human, so when I hallelujah I praise each and everyone it is a mixologist's dream, some of it a thank you, some of it a your welcome, all of it a celebratory exercise, in appreciation, of the finery of what we can be come greater through the words of our blood transfused Oh! act out Hallelujah, write it as if you must urgent do Hallelujah, do it not just now but, Selah!
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Can Hallelujah be Used as a Verb?
Describe yourself. Describe this world. Describe a tree. Describe an iPhone, a dung beetle, a circling vulture, a pill you swallow daily. Things, millions of things, are occurring simultaneously around us and it is up to us what we decide to describe as note-worthy. We mentally decide what is praiseworthy. Strive to describe only that which is worthy, when we are surrounded by so much that unworthy.
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Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
Describe Worth
1:38pm Sabbath Mar 25 2023 *it was in no vast eternal plan, no signed signal, that this day, this moment, this infusion of a hymn would I compose, lyrics praiseworthy, to my god, my creator…my single life-long companion.* *mine hymn of tribute, hymn of mystery, words of uplift suffusing, abundant abide within, music straightens my back, eyes tear-glisten, how come this joy unconstrained, so affecting?* *the wonder of this mystery, the wander of soul, how be it all that troubles retreats, a waving-bye tide taken, both emptied and fulfilled, in simultaneous simplicity, I am confirmed, ascertained, relieved, even revived!* *at the intersection of rising divinity, insistent human frailty, at the crossroads of pure perfection, permanent imperfection, the impermanence of this meeting quickens, gladdens, knowing a glancing touch of god’s finger both enlivens and yet blankets.* ***my entire substance, composition, neath a comforter of good, in a calming restfulness, with the knowing grace that this will pass, my hymn marks my forehead permanent, that just once I moved in a place, not twixt, not tween, but a perfect firmament nearer my god***…
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Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 3:26 PM UTC
a shabbat hymn
Addicted to your lovin’ ways vibrations goin’ up my spine because of the melody of your voice let’s be together and plan our future Yellow flowers are the perfect reminscement of my infatuation to you because of your light energy that’s intact with my lovin soul and your praiseworthy temple that lets me bow down in worship Stars shinnin’ 'cause of your beauty the moon dancin’ 'cause of butterflies in my stomach wind energy is in motion like the sailing waters in the ocean heavy breathin’, night lights love strokin’, passion rights can I be yours alone my heart longs for your touch.
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
I’m Addicted to you
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women) women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle akin to puppy chasing her/his tail or require digital scale, at the extreme alt right registering heavy ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads whether young or old ought to be appreciated not waifer thin self starved as a rail, instead they suffer unfair injustice like a trapped quivering quail thus this fatalistic, generic, and holistic landlubber wanted to point head lee hammer home one secure heterosexual ******* stronger than omnipotent Marcy's Playground weather beaten pail Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail into the coffin of bias against bevy of beautiful babes within the mind of this male, who inherited genetic predisposition for being average, hearty and hale yet feel compassion for those engaged in an ongoing with battle of the bulge, hmm... perhaps hiding ample ***** akin to milky sopping wet grail or accepted unequivocally themselves without envy of lithesome women, who seem to possess flair with nary a flail yet possess much love to avail, and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally despite premium aesthetics considered svelte which mass media accentuates de facto spelt definition of femininity aka runway models donned in faux animal pelt whose deliberate self exhibition prompts madding crowd of man to waggle tongue with slack jaws as if ready to melt or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
Pleasingly Plump Praiseworthy Princesses
Mighty and Majestic All strength comes from You Unapproachable light All goodness comes from You Ruler of all things All power comes from You King of Kings All honor comes from You Sovereign Lord All things come from You Unfathomable greatness All things are possible through You Incomparable One Holy Splendorous Glorious Blessed Praiseworthy Awesome Wonderful True Incredible My Precious God
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Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
Untitled
Like the mountains we admired. I'm time worn. Once praiseworthy, mighty, enduring. Sculpted by winds of change. Carved by a harrowing gaze. Reduced to sediment, caressed by the currents of time. Like the seas we longed for. I'm abundant. Everlasting, spellbinding, looming. Now polluted, rotting from the surface Stagnant where I lie. Once most of your world. Like the winds; once at our back. I'm adrift. Fluent, nimble, restless. Tempted by canyons, gullies, and meadows alike. Hellacious squalls begging at sealed windows. Searching for you.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Elements of Us.
ALLAHUMMA SALLI ALA MUHAMMADIW WA ALA AALI MUHAMMADIN KAMAA SALLAITA ALA IBRAHIMA WA ALA AALI IBRAHIMA INNAKA HAMIDUM MAJID. ALLAHUMMA BAARIK ALA MUHAMMADIW WA ALA AALI MUHAMMADIN KAMAA BAARAKTA ALA IBRAHIMA WA ALA AALI IBRAHIMA INNAKA HAMIDUM MAJID. Allahumma! Send blessings upon (Holy Prophet)Muhammad and upon theProgeny of (Holy Prophet)Muhammad as You sent blessings upon Ibraheem and upon the Progeny of Ibraheem; indeed, You are praiseworthy and glorious. Allahumma! Bless (Holy Prophet)Muhammad and the Progeny of (Holy Prophet)Muhammad as You blessed Ibraheem and the Progeny of Ibraheem; indeed, You are praise worthy and glorious. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Drop by Drop Drop by Drop Everytime, anytime Let it fall. Let it fall. My worthy tears. Never stop. Never stop. Till I see My beloved Mustafa(SAW)
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
A Prayer i
Malcontents are contrary. Praiseworthy comments Find antithetic lamments Filled with spite and bile. If somethings are good, It's understood, They're twisting all the while. They argue black and white, Or night and day; Wear blinders to other ways. They just don't see the rainbow. Every query has three sides; Their's is there to despise; Contrary to pluses Of the other three sides.
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May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
Contrary
Hey! You! Follow Your Path Frost had it right when he “Took the road less traveled by” But when is that easy? Because frankly the road I’m going down has been traveled by many At this day in age I’m not sure there is a road not traveled Roads have been paved and concreted to the city Made by technology and not withered by experience I would love to take the road less traveled by But instead I think I’ll take to the sky Because these roads are cluttered with traffic And too slow moving For my fast-paced decade So I think I’ll traveling by plane I believe a great man name “Doc” once said, “where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” That’s right I don’t need roads Because I’m done following the path paved and named for me I’m done with society not viewing the world the way I see I’m done with the insecurities I will not be told I’m not pretty enough Smart enough Involved enough I’m not tall enough I’m not old enough I determine my life not you I will not wait at the stoplight I will no longer wish for the green to last Because the sky is limit I will not wait another minute This advice is not only to me but to you Fly with me Be clueless with me We will make the sky our kingdom Give ourselves absolute freedom Do go down the path we please Because we choose our destinies Just think of the endless possibilities I am sick of the need to perpetually people please not praiseworthy persons who are passively prejudice of my personal path Please, swallow your pride We don’t need roads And we don’t need to deal with stop signs We just need to mind the birds
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Roads
Hey! You! Follow Your Path Frost had it right when he “Took the road less traveled by” But when is that easy? Because frankly the road I’m going down has been traveled by many At this day in age I’m not sure there is a road not traveled Roads have been paved and concreted to the city Made by technology and not withered by experience I would love to take the road less traveled by But instead I think I’ll take to the sky Because these roads are cluttered with traffic And too slow moving For my fast-paced decade So I think I’ll traveling by plane I believe a great man name “Doc” once said, “where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” That’s right I don’t need roads Because I’m done following the path paved and named for me I’m done with society not viewing the world the way I see I’m done with the insecurities I will not be told I’m not pretty enough Smart enough Involved enough I’m not tall enough I’m not old enough I determine my life not you I will not wait at the stoplight I will no longer wish for the green to last Because the sky is limit I will not wait another minute This advice is not only to me but to you Fly with me Be clueless with me We will make the sky our kingdom Give ourselves absolute freedom Do go down the path we please Because we choose our destinies Just think of the endless possibilities I am sick of the need to perpetually people please not praiseworthy persons who are passively prejudice of my personal path Please, swallow your pride We don’t need roads And we don’t need to deal with stop signs We just need to mind the birds
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43
In my youth I pretended to be what I thought others’ thought was prideworthy and praiseworthy, and I was unjoyful and unhappy self-annihilating my authentic self. Now I am older and I realise only by being my authentic self and striving for joy and happiness using my authentic self can I be joyful and happy.
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Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
Pretender?
so Olson (#2), Honorarium around here, poets have been advised and disclaimed the genuine praise of others get repaid in kind, in k i n d no, nope, not in succinct pithy praiseworthy commentaries that pays the quid pro quo bills no ******* it, a full blown poem is your honorarium, you have torn open that envelope, and gosh **** golly gee... debts must be paid for the scales can not exist imbalanced, until pieces of me equal pieces of you, and I hate owing (for one never can be owning) poems... Honorarium *this lonely business, never paid the rent, at best, I hear them whisper, leave him be, he’s entranced in other galaxies, breathing words of nitrous oxygen, which has oft produced excitable effects, copious weeping, hysteria, and uncontrollable hyena laughter and a sadness so deep, we fear for his retrieval* *while conversing with others in his head, but when he writes of honor & love, beware his bewitched bewitchments, when all flu-like symptoms starburst all at once the words are corded and stacked. for fiery consumption in a hearth hearted fireplace, word fries with aioli spice tendered in repayment* *not a one lost, for those poems, though up in smoke, lung imprinted, and breathed out into the clouded atmospheres, dragon exhaling, poems roaring, stored and restored honorarium in the crematorium of word debtor prison* *an “the end” sigh dot dot dots the bitter end, the anchor resting on sandy bottom, at last, the last word, debt paid, honor restored* *this, this he loves best, when the beast released and then returns to rest-in-chest and await his next self imposed commission, immolation in isolation*...
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Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 6:51 AM UTC
so Olson (#2), Honorarium
so Olson (#2), Honorarium around here, poets have been advised and disclaimed the genuine praise of others get repaid in kind, in k i n d no, nope, not in succinct pithy praiseworthy commentaries that pays the quid pro quo bills no ******* it, a full blown poem is your honorarium, you have torn open that envelope, and gosh **** golly gee... debts must be paid for the scales can not exist imbalanced, until pieces of me equal pieces of you, and I hate owing (for one never can be owning) poems... Honorarium *this lonely business, never paid the rent, at best, I hear them whisper, leave him be, he’s entranced in other galaxies, breathing words of nitrous oxygen, which has oft produced excitable effects, copious weeping, hysteria, and uncontrollable hyena laughter and a sadness so deep, we fear for his retrieval* *while conversing with others in his head, but when he writes of honor & love, beware his bewitched bewitchments, when all flu-like symptoms starburst all at once the words are corded and stacked. for fiery consumption in a hearth hearted fireplace, word fries with aioli spice tendered in repayment* *not a one lost, for those poems, though up in smoke, lung imprinted, and breathed out into the clouded atmospheres, dragon exhaling, poems roaring, stored and restored honorarium in the crematorium of word debtor prison* *an “the end” sigh dot dot dots the bitter end, the anchor resting on sandy bottom, at last, the last word, debt paid, honor restored* *this, this he loves best, when the beast released and then returns to rest-in-chest and await his next self imposed commission, immolation in isolation*...
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42
Rejoice in thy LORD Always. Again I will say, Rejoice.! Let thy Gentleness be Known to All Kind. The LORD Is at Hand. Be Anxious for Nothing, but in Everything by Prayer and Supplication, with Thanksgiving, let thy Requests be made known to GOD:: And thy Peace Of GOD, which Surpasses All Understanding, will guard your Hearts and Minds through Christ Jesus... Finally, brethren, whatever things are True, whatever things are Noble, whatever things are Just, whatever things are Pure, whatever things are Lovely, whatever things are of Good Report, if there is any Virtue and if there is Anything Praiseworthy- Meditate on these tthings.. The things which thee learned and Receieved and Heard and Saw in Me, these do, and the GOD Of Peace will be with Thee.. But I Rejoiced in thy LORD Greatly that now at last thy Care for me has Flourished again; though thy surely did Care, but thy Lacked Oppprtunity. Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever State I am, to be Content.! I know how to be Abased, and I know how to Abound. Everyhwere and in all things I have learned both to be Full and to be Hungry, both to Abound and to Suffer Need... I Can Do All Things Through Christ who Strengthens Me..... Nevertheless, thy have done Well that thy shared in my Distress.. Our GOD Changeth Not... GOD Remain Our Strength.. GOD Is Love.. GOD With Us.!!!
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
Any Land I Step On Shall Be Bless..!
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa parading par excellent paragon parent (parenthetically parochial particularly partisan) parvenu passive, passionately paternalistically patient, paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist, perceptive, perennially perky, permissively persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous, pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy, playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy, poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular, positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist, praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly preponderant, presently president, prestigiously prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine, privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative, prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable, progressively prominant, promisingly prompt, prophetically propitious, prospectively protective, proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant, punctilious, punctually purposeful.
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Panglossian Perspective Pivoting Poze Pretentiously
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle akin to puppy chasing her/his tail or require digital scale, at the extreme alt right registering heavy loads whether young or old ought to appreciated as waifer thin self starved as a rail, instead they suffer unfair injustice like a trapped quivering quail thus this fatalistic, generic, and holistic landlubber wanted to point head lee hammer home one secure heterosexual ******* stronger than omnipotent Marcy's Playground weather beaten pail Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail into the coffin of bias against bevy of beautiful babes within the mind of this male, who inherited genetic predisposition for being average, hearty and hale yet feel compassion for those engaged in an ongoing with battle of the bulge, hmm... perhaps hiding ample ***** akin to milky sopping wet grail or accepted unequivocally themselves without envy of lithesome women, who seem to possess flair with nary a flail yet possess much love to avail, and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally despite premium aesthetics considered svelte which mass media accentuates de facto spelt definition of femininity aka runway models donned in faux animal pelt whose deliberate self exhibition prompts madding crowd of man to waggle tongue with slack jaws as if ready to melt or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
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Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC
Pleasingly Plump Praiseworthy Princesses
The smile you hand out glowing in all hues. shaking with pleasant nausea kind and empty headed elation. we're dripping from our pores though the weather isn't extreme. is sweat even the case at hand? here we are at the rainbow again. welcome to your mind and thank you for having me come back any time we all loved seeing you and you the same. Breakfast time again, Showering sounds splendid. A plateau with a personality praiseworthy in mutual memory pickles and fruit snacks and cure Never leaving a color behind. beguiled by the love and smile so kind.
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Today
There are times when all is afloat, when no two waves fight, a rock too appears light, when all said, done, and thought, all, absolutely, is right. Then there comes the storm, Violent. Looking for refuge instinctively, the comfort of former days long forgotten, all there is is despair, weariness, in seas in the selfsame stormy seas. Why would the sense of security of old hold? why would the memory refresh us and inspire? why? The odds arise, setting themselves formidably We try to rise up, shaken and distraught, for we had fallen, short of everything that is noble, pure,honorable,praiseworthy... Yet, through all days there remains the hope for all. The man Christ Jesus
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
The Man in Sea
First Official s u m m e r Saturday, weather personas correctly (!) advertise two hours of sunny morning before the clouded vanilla parchy brow of the sky occludes any May summertime fantastical notions Sun low in the eastern sky crests at acute angles, and spills rays thru the tree'd frothy cappuccino branches, which under the influence of drunken substantive gusts, shakes the rays on the bright green lawn stage, casting a huge patchwork of shadows, and it's easy to conceive many tall giant ballerinas dancing in a chaotic disharmonious modern choreography Perhaps it's a Parson's choreo, more likely the akimbo nature of the motion motif, a Body Traffic concoction But the sun is gone by 9:30am, the green stage is now just a plain old green screen, the shadowy ballerinas banished, and my hand held porcelain mug, frames the denuded scene, only the invisible wind remains to say: *oh it's you human, back in para-dise, did you expect perfection of hot sun & hot coffee awaiting your return?* *East come, Easy West go, this version of my true unheated coloration disappoints, but I wait in on/no human, said the triumvirate, that rule the sky,* *on this island of perpetual sunsets, we do not guarantee a seating of matched sets, but visit with us tomorrow, with poem praiseworthy,* and then, again, who ever knows?
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May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 11:50 AM UTC
May's Saturday: Frothy Foamy Ballerinas
Hey, You ! The Unspoken Wolf Let Me... Erupt Your Booming Silence Expunge Your Fiery Pain... Only, the Wise Can See I heard... Have Silence, or Complain Have Exact Same Address... It's in Your Truthful Nature I Know... To Conceal Dismaying Agony To Accept Undone Faults... When You Look Through Truly I See... Everything is Right There Every Answer Becomes Clear... When You Work By Realizations I Regret... That You Get Underestimated That Asserts 'for Granted'... I Pray that One Day Some one... Rectifies Your Searing Pain Reforms You in Totality... Let me Tell You This ! I Conclude... Heart can Survive Breaks Mind, is But Brittle... Being an Unspoken Wolf Myself I Express... My Feelings to God The Almighty, The Praiseworthy !
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 6:12 AM UTC
Revealed
I am said to be majestic That my presence is blessed Is it though? I question it They say I symbolise eternity As if... that is praiseworthy They merely fear death, thus They project their fantasies Upon me, my "holy" flames They know not, nor care That I am cursed, forever Cursed, I say! Cursed! Cursed! . Each time I cry in anguish Hoping my tears are enough To cool the flames of my soul As my life painfully burns Yet, you are confused You actually believed That there will be beauty To arise from my ashes . This is a neverending cycle Am I still me? Is the past real? When this happens again Will the new "me" still be me? The best dreams I ever have In which I am dying, truly dying The end, the ultimate finale I'm tired, I wish to rest Sing me to sleep, then leave me If this happens, if I break this cycle Do not feel bad for me; know this I will finally be free, to go home And know true bliss and peace .
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Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 1:04 AM UTC
The Grief of a Phoenix
Everyone Was once the baby of the family. Cuddled and cursed, Fondled and blessed. No one on earth compared to you. You weren't beautiful, You were stunning. All eyes were watching Every move commented on Your falls were praiseworthy Love was freely lavished People... Strangers... Wanted to pick you up Hold and hug Make eye contact Feed you Whisper silly things Stroke your head And show you to the world. We're more reserved now We can't do the above As much as we'd like to We'd be the ones Behind bars.
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
It Doesn't Make Sense