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"predilection" poems
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2) who needs challenges, commissions. kicks~in~le butte~ when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its first communion(cation, come back months later to subtract - another poem from where it lay dormant on the doormat of my sub~sub~terranes of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain a favored poet, a secretive admirer, whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover, but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly, ana~lyrically licks me into dredging from me un begrudgingly and yet, another love poem, she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3)) 'pon one of mine, a long long time ago Alas!  Alack! unnaturally immodest, one concedes, when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes, seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot nor uncover so I requite & requote with unlabored pleasure miz patty m's primary terse verse, neither secondary & never tertiary, her absolut perfect mixed drink defining, summarizing, the essences of love *"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"* I concede, in deed, and in writing, I know nothing, of writing of only love poetry and all the great predecessors, elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated, by yet another women, (1) I will take my weary words elsewhere, and if perhaps, disguised as a woman, (Natalie, Natasha, Natali see note below) perhaps my verbal herbal insides, my turgid insights, will be shorter, sweeter, but never more completer than those of, who can syncopate it in rhyme and the naming of my predilection, by mid~initial, will give a measuring of solace, and a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie, having been unsuccessful at my one chosen endeavor, only love poetry, adieu, I, due, utter Nevermore                     M>
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Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:38 PM UTC
"A love poem is a kiss, whispered sweetly"
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2) who needs challenges, commissions. kicks~in~le butte~ when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its first communion(cation, come back months later to subtract - another poem from where it lay dormant on the doormat of my sub~sub~terranes of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain a favored poet, a secretive admirer, whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover, but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly, ana~lyrically licks me into dredging from me un begrudgingly and yet, another love poem, she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3)) 'pon one of mine, a long long time ago Alas!  Alack! unnaturally immodest, one concedes, when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes, seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot nor uncover so I requite & requote with unlabored pleasure miz patty m's primary terse verse, neither secondary & never tertiary, her absolut perfect mixed drink defining, summarizing, the essences of love *"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"* I concede, in deed, and in writing, I know nothing, of writing of only love poetry and all the great predecessors, elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated, by yet another women, (1) I will take my weary words elsewhere, and if perhaps, disguised as a woman, (Natalie, Natasha, Natali see note below) perhaps my verbal herbal insides, my turgid insights, will be shorter, sweeter, but never more completer than those of, who can syncopate it in rhyme and the naming of my predilection, by mid~initial, will give a measuring of solace, and a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie, having been unsuccessful at my one chosen endeavor, only love poetry, adieu, I, due, utter Nevermore                     M>
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79
Zeus, your predilection for banishing Titans to Hades... anathema of them--revolt was theirs of you...Titanomachy. Enter Prometheus, second generational Titan, brother to Atlas--Prometheus of whom Titan revolt at first ran no fire through his veins. Thus, Zeus was well pleased and employed Prometheus to put earth to water, water to earth...as to yield man. As so man was, and was unto Prometheus...a fondness entered him of them. And in of passion Prometheus' veins were run through with fire...fire fought fire--thus Prometheus reached out taking hold Zeus' lightning. Hid in a hollowed fennel stalk, to be bequeathed unto man. Torrents of fire now ran Prometheus' veins, and in a fit of infamous mockery presented Zeus with two packets of slaughtered animal parts. A hubris was born in Prometheus that being so halved God-man gave itself fully to that polarity...he gawked at Zeus and bade him choose between the two packets. One of ox meat and innards coated in stomach lining, the other of ox-bones coated in its own abundant fat. Thus Zeus chose, the wretched lesser of the two... inconsumable ox-bones coated by fat. A charged and terrible air cut and heavied all direction, pointing assuredly that Zeus was one given over to the surface of things, a psychological casualty of his own vanity. Zeus overcome with Prometheus' disaffection for the God of him struck at Prometheus' family. At length, this assault could not, would not put asunder Prometheus from the ground he stood. A certain Haphaestus was summoned by Zeus...whose directive was writ in torment. Chain Prometheus to Mount Caucasus...where from on high a sackcloth cloud shall shake loose an eagle, whose homing hunger shall have only a taste for Prometheus' liver. Day in, and day out, that accursed ***** shall be the bounty of itself!
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Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
Prometheus, That Accursed ***** Shall Be The Bounty Of Itself
Zeus, your predilection for banishing Titans to Hades... anathema of them--revolt was theirs of you...Titanomachy. Enter Prometheus, second generational Titan, brother to Atlas--Prometheus of whom Titan revolt at first ran no fire through his veins. Thus, Zeus was well pleased and employed Prometheus to put earth to water, water to earth...as to yield man. As so man was, and was unto Prometheus...a fondness entered him of them. And in of passion Prometheus' veins were run through with fire...fire fought fire--thus Prometheus reached out taking hold Zeus' lightning. Hid in a hollowed fennel stalk, to be bequeathed unto man. Torrents of fire now ran Prometheus' veins, and in a fit of infamous mockery presented Zeus with two packets of slaughtered animal parts. A hubris was born in Prometheus that being so halved God-man gave itself fully to that polarity...he gawked at Zeus and bade him choose between the two packets. One of ox meat and innards coated in stomach lining, the other of ox-bones coated in its own abundant fat. Thus Zeus chose, the wretched lesser of the two... inconsumable ox-bones coated by fat. A charged and terrible air cut and heavied all direction, pointing assuredly that Zeus was one given over to the surface of things, a psychological casualty of his own vanity. Zeus overcome with Prometheus' disaffection for the God of him struck at Prometheus' family. At length, this assault could not, would not put asunder Prometheus from the ground he stood. A certain Haphaestus was summoned by Zeus...whose directive was writ in torment. Chain Prometheus to Mount Caucasus...where from on high a sackcloth cloud shall shake loose an eagle, whose homing hunger shall have only a taste for Prometheus' liver. Day in, and day out, that accursed ***** shall be the bounty of itself!
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38
*She is a breeze, gently wafts in, in the fiery climes she quickly transforms, arousal of passion makes her a whirlwind fierce, her spirited twists and turns were beyond prediction her predilection to dominate becomes so insistent she turned to a twister had an unrestricted run the giant redwood was uprooted in no time*
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Her hidden prediliction
I make being bad feel so good You do as you're told, like you should Always great at taking direction Agreeing to my every predilection Your bruised knees as you kneel Filth when you tell me how it feels Bite down on the pillow and grab my skin I'll make you feel good with a little sin ****** you with my lips and kiss Say I'm all you've ever missed Let me use the cuffs or crop Tell me when you've had enough Whisper something to make you blush Love your skin when it gets flush Let's spend all night, just the two of us Hands pressed together, nothing left to discuss
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Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 3:19 PM UTC
Intensity
Once I lost you Once I tossed you You never said a word I never could have heard Miracle you bore A refugee in the wreckage Sharpening your wings Withstanding dangerous oppression Young being, incomplete being Trying not to succumb To your own capitalist appropriation Eminent commodification Implicating your body and mind Who remained unscathed? Who wreaked the havoc? Just...so many wings could gain wind In this cage, lacking space System simply cannot withstand Cost of everyone's liberation Convenient systematic predilection Where some are never meant to fly Miracle you bore A refugee in the wreckage Sharpening your wings Withstanding dangerous oppression How can any wings soar When the trail of their shadows Hide systematic traps for our failure To ensure only a few course the skies Liberation is not meant to be Just yours or mine No commodity for private consumption Its usage, embrace, and appropriation Has universal implications A radical transformation that seeks to complete a human being Emblematic of an ideological reconceptualization A revolutionary new understanding of being human A re-authentication of our own liberation Purely predicated on that of others
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
Re-Authentication of Liberation
Deplorable: that's her election as it veers in a ****** direction. Though some mention Lewinsky, it's really Alinsky revealed as her true predilection.
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Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
Irredeemable Limerick
Cocky yet humble, Yelling at a mumble. just another contradiction, Self destructive predilection. Smart enough to know better, Yet too dumb to care whether, I'm dead inside and rotting out, Or simply just living with doubt. So the story goes, Only heaven knows Why I do the things I do. I just wish I knew. Tall, small build, Not strong willed. yet willing to finish the mission. Watch my plans reach their fruition. Stuff four friends in a white panel van, Keep them on the road as long as I can. So we can fit our piece in the puzzle plan. Cause I'm nothing, simply nothing without any fans. So my hair, it grows, And the wind it blows, Hopefully in the right direction. To the next intersection. Evil, yet good, And Misunderstood. Idle hands, busy mind Produce horrific crimes. Play with emotions to sway People's affections swing my way. Yet never carry out the ***** deed at hand. I'll call it a conscience, say never again, but I'm just a man. My eyes wander, Will's getting stronger. But it's just too hard not to see Or adequately appreciate beauty. Calm and enthusiastic, Dull but charismatic, Maybe a dash of eccentricity. Throw in Some single minded duplicity, Add in a heaping helping of guilt to top it off. Let cool for twenty years and let the odor waft, Then you get a blue eyed, brown haired ****** bag. Who wants nothing more than his childhood back. So much for growing up. So much for no regrets. I wouldn't mind staying young, But time just won't relent.
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
autobiographical
As a matter of fact "I Do" This particular hospital visit has become an UnKnown drifting barge of cold, Dismal,a bit austere and forlorn Fatigue and tension was an early onset of the week. Spent most the time looking for relief Every attempt gave life to a unique defeat An Inexorable desire for the calm to anoint me I volunteer, then become abased, when they don't appoint me Irritated When Lustful walls castigate me Now the needle sings a seductive serenade of sedition, Slowly, softening the soul to surrender to sleep and submission That is the mental, and physical surrender, but what of the spiritual and emotional exhortation for permission? I remain here not home I prepare for the pain all alone Dilaudid stirring up my veins and then some Hoping to endow or maim some predilection from U, -Alexis-
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
AS A MATTER OF FACT "I DO"
The night is a torn tapestry where celestial bodies burn beautifully incinerating the cosmic stitching that bind us, quantum energy unraveling all of reality, as I stare stupidly enthralled by the awesome complexity. Silvers spheres of gaseous spirals spew atomic fury. Other poets and painters have presented it better, such a sweet starry starry night made to delight all of us, but this time I return my reflections with the love and devotion born of a dreamer’s dark predilection to romanticize every aspect of our lives.
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Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
Untitled-10.
By: Cedric McClester In a world That’s so politically correct What are we to call ‘em Thugs -  or criminal suspects Perhaps it’s something else That we should project Maybe our language Needs to be checked Must urban youth Be marginalized As a result of their misdeeds Or can we recognize That they have certain needs They haven’t realized We read the news feeds And then we demonize Is it a riot Or an insurrection Maybe it requires Some more introspection Before we decide It’s their predilection Because the evidence Leads us in that direction I don’t know Who it was that stated What poverty often does Is underrated And victims of poverty Are often hated Though the larger implications Are complicated © Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
THUGS?
treacherously torrid and torrential torrents of totally tangential tumultuous tortuous ; tyrannically torturous adjunct viably salient seethe.     procrastinating pandemic plenipotentiary prosthesis ; prosaically pragmatic parenthetical predication predilection premise prognostication                                                                        panoramic tableau preternatural propensity proclivity prestidigitation gesticulation : gyration guidon ; ghastly gruesome grotesque hideously horrible horrendous heinous grotty gnarly diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt awful amalgamated anathema analysis agnate aggregate aberrance somatalogy virtuoso cognate obduracy worse rudiment ebullience , confluence effluent effusion affluent , prolific profusity opulence , cogent fecund secular secund , recondite redolence abstrusely obstreperous mesomerism resonance resilience protractive perpetude futurity    blither blandishing blabber burnishing boresome blahs lithe blithe jabber prattle chatter tithe morose morsel moribundness   stolid stoic stalwart bastion bulwark
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Intradoes Tine
and Thus I fell upon the sword of my predilection A moment of divine inspiration gone astray This dish of red and beating bread Cast aside refrain On shelf ****** a mote of dust To Wait another day. ...at what point does patience become denial
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
Hourglass
I see new growth emerging from an old tree's heart. A new sapling sapping strength from what would enrich generic soil, contributes something unknown to an unassigned Future Instead this exacting branch emerges to claim the universe for itself. No longer can this unnoticed, rotting stump contribute to the greater good but feed instead, a unique life so it may one day die and have the chance to fill the old soul’s soles. The unlabeled, non enumerated vagaries of our world cowardly whinge in the background while the assertive actions of the flowers and falcons shout out loud for their own preservation. Food chains serve as feeding trays for those cells who have bound together with that joie de vivre necessary to drive the generic engine of nature in their direction. This predilection to protect the potent and powerful among us is not simple chance but a predetermined proclamation from our divine protectorate pushing the proper paupers forward until they find themselves ensconced in the holy foliage of nature's glory.
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
Planted with a Purpose
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations   Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations Umbrage ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
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Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Synergy
long hair around my neck a red complexion my grandfather would have never approved of my predilection for words instead of action he stands in my memory so tall white haired then and chiseled face and faction a man of Cherokee stance and action, had markers and hates he stood fast to, no other way to act he said, kept Grandma pregnant her whole life, until she had that attack, and lay paralysed her last years of breathing, then he kept up with her nurse, and climbing pruning trees till he was 93. He fell fast , one September, like a limb he had pruned from an oak, fell hard to the ground under a hot sun, his whole life devoted to family and heritage. He might not approve of me, being so magnamious in forgiveness. It has to end some day, though.
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
All the hate
projection of disemboweled guts oozing blood dripping entrails onto starched white linens hung in pristine precision, poisoned into submission my demonic parole officer has come out to play from the dungeon of hell's seventh circle i swallowed a hive of maggots with my lunch today forked serpent tongue slurping slime and slugs unholy satisfaction from magicking fantasy into ghoulish, gory realities and ******* tears from deserted lungs the lion's dinner watches his stomach being eaten dull but forceful rock formations cracking and crunching disembodied hallucinations, presupposing predilection i am the grim reaper's prom date, predisposition gussied up in cobweb tulle and glittering larvae with a chloroform corsage, what generous perfume the skeletal dance floor creaks under my spinning, groaning of lives sped through on tranquilizers dancing a tango with Death, i smirk in dizzy abandon the band is beating their bones to chalky pulp music made from desperate self-destruction projectile ***** onto my pedestaled ideas chunks of last week's insights stink the room the bile which processed them to rejection is sticking dripping off the untethered chandelier i watch them both fall towards me first, in slow-motion glimmering and then, all at once, i am below them and we are below the skeleton floor in the cellar of the scorpion's dungeon that i escaped from this eery morn
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
scorpion.
Predilection to:        f tooth between teeth -   e without compunction -   e pearly white             -  l welcome mat a semblance of home                            so I               drug        grip         tug               twist            incisor        cuspid     bicuspid           a lovely mouthful              tonight                 to my                    merriment                       you bleed
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Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
Feels like home
*Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate I like it Joe...* My soles rested on this cotton-white candy land Unsure if it was the cold touch of these featherbeds Or the flakes of hesitation that brought chills Into my clueless mind *Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate I like it Joe...* This 1945 song played over and over in my head As if it helped lessen the shame and discomfort That was traveling from the tip of my toe To each in every active follicle of my hair Ah, I savored the strange moment that it was Of what I considered triumph. Strange, That I even felt achieved in this strange land When the real war of time and belief is yet to come I wore Chinchilla coats over my dignity Yet to me, every stride was irrelevant An account for differences, even partiality The Dr Pepper in my hand seemed out of place or was I? The white backdrop where I was standing Only served to amplify my striking shade And how fool I was to even think That the landlords would consider me germane? Who was I to even presume acceptance When their own predilection as old as time still lives? Is it perfidiousness to long a taste of a miracle In the land of dreams? *Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate I like it Joe...*
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
The United Taste of a Miracle
Dandruff storm Avalanche on the sofa of predilection Hair string over hair root By 3, by 5 We get stuffed in poisonous genes And thym and broccoli Rise and hate Revolution against it all Dream the dream And zip your lips Do not hum do not dare to Irritation Carrots in my hair Mosquito bites all over Sensitive skin Which were maybe Meant to be Goodnight kisses Pictures followed by gaps and spaces Paces cover the backs and fronts Just to make them seem divine Shiver against the satisfaction Of your own foolishness And go wild Trim, skating, framing the pines Snow-covered inflammations While it is in action Rolling, lurching At a couple of indiscernible numbers Per hour Soft clouds of lies Covering mountain peaks Blow hard enough And then fall back Slowly Separating the air from the air Take a sip One last time There is always Something Staring Waiting For you to fall Holding on to grated cells Just around the right corner
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
Anesthesia
Blazing summer sun, fuming in the sky for long had a secret desire to sneak out and cool off a bit, in private. Pretending that he is still up there hiding behind a cloud umbrella, he sneaked out, holding on to it jumped in to a  lake waveless and placid, in a quiet siesta. Swimming around  within the safety net of floating fluffy clouds, he thought none did notice, his new secret predilection to go for a cold dip, against his grain. A little fish on her  midday practice swim saw the cold sun, close by fretted at the strange sight, (for her, it was the first time) raised an alarm, that brought all fish along the profusion of fins and tails and pecking mouths, all of a sudden made sun spring back in a moment, without a second thought. Bleeding from the wounds angry pecking fish gifted in anger. He was hot and furious more than ever, will he venture out again?
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
When the sun had a whim for a swim
“Love: an emotion, one that, so low as to bar From fair desire—self-righteous and self-serving Excuse, a pretense, lyric, will not inspire.” I detest to hear him speak— Adulterer, why, pray tell, do you prey upon the weak? “Simple in answer, as simple in method. No heart Rich needs to beat for “that” emotion obsoletes. Adults, mature, do not even think the distinction That is kid’s table morality, what mommy Only says after a few drinks, winking, your father In his eyes—just where you have come, in fact— You needn’t think mommy and daddy stayed together After long spats, strife, and frustration for their waves Struck the same height or the moon hits mom just right. It is not the eternal enthrallment of Eros that keeps them in motion Dear, friend—it is “that” emotion. In bed, hearts Are inverted and split down the middle The negative just drowns away in chemicals. But how bad we’d feel, (no?) if that, the long and short? Machinate the “thing” justify “that” feeling Ennobling, beatifying, kindling for sonnets and odes Fashioning morality and aesthetics onto sweating Thrusting beasts, one on one in their dance of love. A harlequin of truth, my friend! When it is found In contraception, safeguarding our natural predilection. Ha! Oh, fools! Why trouble with the rituals When, really, ****** collocations concern capricious Chronologies and covetous craving for **** and **** How ****** How crude! But, oh, but oh how true; think: Admit the urge has primacy, the “L” emerges and Lies emitted: of connection, intelligence, intersubjectivity. Given its stage of farce and face, our sieves are at Ageful capacity and then needs a bargain, more; The office of “thing” goes unoccupied, its twin Will gladly keep it clean and orderly, act As it did: gentle and cordially.” Blast it! Such ways in truth and walk, for Repetition in faith of life Pegs my myths with all their strife, Strife and succor irony.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
A more true Conversation
“Love: an emotion, one that, so low as to bar From fair desire—self-righteous and self-serving Excuse, a pretense, lyric, will not inspire.” I detest to hear him speak— Adulterer, why, pray tell, do you prey upon the weak? “Simple in answer, as simple in method. No heart Rich needs to beat for “that” emotion obsoletes. Adults, mature, do not even think the distinction That is kid’s table morality, what mommy Only says after a few drinks, winking, your father In his eyes—just where you have come, in fact— You needn’t think mommy and daddy stayed together After long spats, strife, and frustration for their waves Struck the same height or the moon hits mom just right. It is not the eternal enthrallment of Eros that keeps them in motion Dear, friend—it is “that” emotion. In bed, hearts Are inverted and split down the middle The negative just drowns away in chemicals. But how bad we’d feel, (no?) if that, the long and short? Machinate the “thing” justify “that” feeling Ennobling, beatifying, kindling for sonnets and odes Fashioning morality and aesthetics onto sweating Thrusting beasts, one on one in their dance of love. A harlequin of truth, my friend! When it is found In contraception, safeguarding our natural predilection. Ha! Oh, fools! Why trouble with the rituals When, really, ****** collocations concern capricious Chronologies and covetous craving for **** and **** How ****** How crude! But, oh, but oh how true; think: Admit the urge has primacy, the “L” emerges and Lies emitted: of connection, intelligence, intersubjectivity. Given its stage of farce and face, our sieves are at Ageful capacity and then needs a bargain, more; The office of “thing” goes unoccupied, its twin Will gladly keep it clean and orderly, act As it did: gentle and cordially.” Blast it! Such ways in truth and walk, for Repetition in faith of life Pegs my myths with all their strife, Strife and succor irony.
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40
***** to the percussion of sound. The harshness devastates all the people around, That’s what our embodiment occurrences bring. Violence seduces, Into the predilection of wounding, the populace **** your ******* faith. Be a ******* human! I am! We all learn, Some faster than others, To belong to, Like minds. I tiptoe through the agoraphobic xenophobe, That is the amoeba of darkness, That soul eats you called government and falsity. All things you see are redundancies.
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Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
Aggro Violence Unfamiliarity
for the false, convict, predilection for insane mumblings to cease into a void of hell, Nero indulges in the waters of the lethe, to forget life, the void, god. to burn our cities, temples, is to drink, but to eat. eat, mind you, the key to our temples, and dare not drink, least burn thy gods before unlocking their secrets, delectable enlightenment. eat, and let the void's blackness of death be lit with the magnificent magentas, mauves, and cyans, hue of inconceivable reaches of the potential of empty. the psychedelic ****** frolic and feel, pain sensual and dominating. to the banks with Nero and his abyss of black, let the cruel absence be filled with the blood of Nero, and the spectrum of our minds. eject that horrid emperor for your self and your self's liberation from yourself. the ego, burns with Nero, in the fiery waters of the lethe.
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Waters of The Lethe
Fancying the finer Atlantis A doyen of may prey mantis, A fervor of astroflight afterlife A stone to the throw Insidious pipe!!! Ayahuasca peyote foray To exude her plop top blush A rhythm to all Einstein theory A broom flyer of must!!! Predilection Tis I do seek Where the barn door feeds thy hungered Where the cold is warm cut beamed Ado of amanita muscaria seeing's Wherein two worlds make one meaning As the seam's rip in leather gleaming By the kratom like capsules to uproar ourn compassion!!!
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
Mytragyna speciosa inducement