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"pulchritudinous" poems
i walked in a garden i saw roses, daisies, bougainvilleas pagoda and peonies too and somehow they reminded me of you the roses reminded me of your lips how it's so red and lovely how it curves whenever your smile along with your eyes how it separates when you laugh the daisies reminded me of your eyes how it slowly blooms beautifully in morning how lovely when it slowly closes at night how chatoyant it was when touched by light the bougainvillea reminded me of your being how you stood strong despite everything how you stayed lucent and beautiful how you let yourself bloom in many colours the pagoda reminded me of your skin how it's yellowish and eternally beautiful how smooth and soft it was how selcouth it seems in my retina the peonies reminded me of your heart how it's still exquisite despite of its fragile figure how it's still eesome even though it looks wrinkled how it stays strong and pulchritudinous walking in the garden felt serendipitious it felt like walking inside your existence and i liked it.
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
the pulchritude in you
The orb of night is pulchritudinous tonight, And not a breath of life in this house seems to notice. My eyes on you, Your eyes on me, Viciously music trapped between the bed and windows; Innocents tiptoeing along the hall, And us. While walking towards your car, I suppose inferring that: The orb is pulchritudinous tonight, But what I decry is meant for self-revelation or not at all. You look at me and smile. I will always admire the way you glow is so generous to, Those unaware of the way she fills my eyes. A delicate modesty. You open my door, And I am thankful; But can’t help wishing to be with someone who notices that, The Orb is Pulchritudinous tonight.
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Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
The Orb is Pulchritudinous Night
O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes For bilious spasms of pigswill For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees Above the perverted pampas! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms Whose **** throbbing tapeworm A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate Across the intergalactic space! America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice Reinvigorate thy ****** *********** inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid! O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat In disentangling feeding frenzy Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over And velvet glove more than backbone! America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman That smells wide of the fourth dimension Thine lathery brothels lick Polished using giant armadillo excrement! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district
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Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
America The Picture Postcard
There's an architect designing the world from the skyline downwards, as he believes himself to be a God The paraffin lamps on Victorian cobbled corners are as dry as the seraph in dust bowls over some arid sea A portrait exists, of a town covered in mist and the orange cliffs are a thousand bloodied wrists Somewhere music plays to ghosts, obtuse reverberations of some cave on a mountain... or something and what a useless skill it is to be a poet, flouting fanciful words as if a single soul cared or could possibly muster anything more than unadulterated apathy What a lonely life it is, to spend entire days watching *********** and reveling in dissociative stoicism Watching cam girls for hours on end, swept up in conversation yet never taking part, only watching They seem as lonely as anybody, holed up in crimson rooms as anonymous DJs play through laptop speakers Fielding obscene questions with a smile and renting their body in timetables to the highest tipper and some days the depression becomes so heavy that ************ seems impossible, though it's possible to blame such scarcity on the anti-anxiety meds that have ruined so many-a youthful folly Is there a more flattering notion, than a story teller being commended for honesty when every word is a lie Fictional accounts of melancholic lives told in a pulchritudinous verse or a prose of the most regal purples Using nothing more than psycho-stimulants and a smeared bedroom window for inspiration There's a writer sat at a desk, typing ridiculous lines of text, as he knows himself to be human and in that humanity he strives to create a realists interpretation of existence through scattered memories and derivative styles of his favourite authors whilst using educational texts as footnotes in imaginary diaries
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
This Machine Frees Oppressed Chickens
There's an architect designing the world from the skyline downwards, as he believes himself to be a God The paraffin lamps on Victorian cobbled corners are as dry as the seraph in dust bowls over some arid sea A portrait exists, of a town covered in mist and the orange cliffs are a thousand bloodied wrists Somewhere music plays to ghosts, obtuse reverberations of some cave on a mountain... or something and what a useless skill it is to be a poet, flouting fanciful words as if a single soul cared or could possibly muster anything more than unadulterated apathy What a lonely life it is, to spend entire days watching *********** and reveling in dissociative stoicism Watching cam girls for hours on end, swept up in conversation yet never taking part, only watching They seem as lonely as anybody, holed up in crimson rooms as anonymous DJs play through laptop speakers Fielding obscene questions with a smile and renting their body in timetables to the highest tipper and some days the depression becomes so heavy that ************ seems impossible, though it's possible to blame such scarcity on the anti-anxiety meds that have ruined so many-a youthful folly Is there a more flattering notion, than a story teller being commended for honesty when every word is a lie Fictional accounts of melancholic lives told in a pulchritudinous verse or a prose of the most regal purples Using nothing more than psycho-stimulants and a smeared bedroom window for inspiration There's a writer sat at a desk, typing ridiculous lines of text, as he knows himself to be human and in that humanity he strives to create a realists interpretation of existence through scattered memories and derivative styles of his favourite authors whilst using educational texts as footnotes in imaginary diaries
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16
Soothing, sensational, elegant as the harp, Semblance, integument, covering of the tarp, Ebullient, vivacious, precision of the mind, Vehement, appetent, keen & one of a kind, Perfervid, chocolate katydid, desirable & luscious taste, Delectable, ambrosial, palatable & consumed with haste, Sybaritic, voluptuous, enticing to the senses, Libidinous, hedonic, enriched untightened hinges, Efficacious, puissant, robust delight to the eye, Potent, consequential, immeasurable symbol of the sky, Pulchritudinous, gorgeous, magnificent as the autumn sun, Resplendent, vivid, lustrous as a diamond-lithographed gun, Sympathetic, affectionate, condoling soul of a angel, Altruistic, benignant, warmhearted with no mangle, Serenity, tranquility, composure of divine peace, Harmonious, amicable, placid as the slow moving creek...
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Jovial Thoughts, Genial Mind...
Welcome Back You are the art. Don’t you dare tear yourself apart. Ripping away the “ugly” from your pulchritudinous body. Don’t be a copy, of every other thin legged, supple lipped, big busted, media lusted women. Don’t be Cheating yourself of the life you have to live. Deprives others of that only which you can give Outlive the ugly in this society. One step out of the door, I know you can feel your anxiety. Are you perfect enough???? Yes indeed you are! You’ve come so far. You are more than what you think u are. Now Open up that spiritual jar, throw away the negativity. You are no longer in captivity. You are free. You’ve found the key. To everlasting acceptance. So pick yourself up beautiful, it’s crucial that you stop being so critical about your self-worth. Calibrate the rebirth of you. Welcome back. x
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Welcome Back
A picture paints a thousand words but even a thousand words is not enough to paint a picture-perfect portrait of you too ethereal, too unique pulchritudinous in the way you think Let's take a hundred thousand pictures so we can make a novel out of you Let's take a hundred thousand pictures so the world can learn that perfect isn't a myth perfection is hidden within your smile within your eyes, within your voice Let's take a hundred thousand pictures so I can immortalize you in my art Let's take a hundred thousand pictures and maybe then I'll have all the words I need to make you believe me when I tell you just how perfect you truly are
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Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 12:01 PM UTC
100,000 words for you
i am not your type? i'm no prince charming, i don't seem dashing but i could be a charmander that can always re-lights our passion i could make all your enemies writhe and burn or the one that keeps your soul and body warm *drag your feet across the carpet, i'll make your hair stand on end i can be electric fill your head with sparks* I'd be a rock type to you, for such a phenomenon I'd be a boldore person that you could lean on. I will anchor you down from thoughts of those with moodyness And envy of my partner who's so pulchritudinous. *I could be photosynthetic, eat a mouthful of dirt for you I'd go green with envy over any other lover Let me be your grass type, I could be your **** (Or just let me deScyther your thoughts)* I could be your faucet let your feelings flow through me And I will sink every krabby memory you rue. See, Can be emotional too, I could drown you in thought. I could be your water type, without me you'll rot. There will never be a reason to run away I will always find how to give you a sunny day It isn't unknown, to succeed, I will always find the words I could be- wait you mean you don't like nerds?
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Not Your Type? (collaboration with kate lion)
A magnificent word, of incredulous size Most cannot define it, reading with their own eyes A synonym, for a beautiful face, A fancy term for good looks If you didn't know of the existence of of this word, I suggest you go to the library and get some books If someone said it to you, you should pick up your head at what you heard Somebody likes you! All from a definition you just learned!
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Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 8:52 AM UTC
Pulchritudinous
Yesterday she genuinely smiled Something that lit the town bright The way her lips curved to the left Before the right reminded me Of the days she never knew you Tonight, believe it or not, but she laughed Her laugh could be heard from a mile It was so loud, Contagious, And it whispered the word "content" into the winds The kind you would hear after you kissed her lips Or at least when you used to press your lips upon hers And tomorrow you will see her glow with happiness The kind you see from a lonely child who finally felt love Beautiful, exquisite, pulchritudinous, just to name a few Those are the words that will come across your mind When you see her pass you by By then I will feel sorry for you Because she finally moved on She finally saw her true worth---her true beauty And I will look at you and feel sorry She overlooked your flaws, past, and mistakes. She forgave you for your stupidity countless times Accepted your selfishness and narrow mindedness She made sacrifices for you, MADE time for you when she had none, Adjusted her life to make things work for you To make things work with you All those things that you could not do for her. But now, you are nothing but a piece of her past, A memory that is constantly fading, An old flame that long disintegrated, A photograph that has fallen on the back of her desk, Or maybe you're all of that. No. You are all of that. And I feel sorry for you. So sorry that you lost an amazing person Someone who accepted every part of you, Was willing to put up with everything, Change her ways to make things work, Someone who didn't give up so easily, and Someone who would have never given up on you The way you did with her.
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Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
Worth Reading
Yesterday she genuinely smiled Something that lit the town bright The way her lips curved to the left Before the right reminded me Of the days she never knew you Tonight, believe it or not, but she laughed Her laugh could be heard from a mile It was so loud, Contagious, And it whispered the word "content" into the winds The kind you would hear after you kissed her lips Or at least when you used to press your lips upon hers And tomorrow you will see her glow with happiness The kind you see from a lonely child who finally felt love Beautiful, exquisite, pulchritudinous, just to name a few Those are the words that will come across your mind When you see her pass you by By then I will feel sorry for you Because she finally moved on She finally saw her true worth---her true beauty And I will look at you and feel sorry She overlooked your flaws, past, and mistakes. She forgave you for your stupidity countless times Accepted your selfishness and narrow mindedness She made sacrifices for you, MADE time for you when she had none, Adjusted her life to make things work for you To make things work with you All those things that you could not do for her. But now, you are nothing but a piece of her past, A memory that is constantly fading, An old flame that long disintegrated, A photograph that has fallen on the back of her desk, Or maybe you're all of that. No. You are all of that. And I feel sorry for you. So sorry that you lost an amazing person Someone who accepted every part of you, Was willing to put up with everything, Change her ways to make things work, Someone who didn't give up so easily, and Someone who would have never given up on you The way you did with her.
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43
That girl doesn't inspire me a bit, let me guilelessly confess, the one that sits right there,diametrically opposite to my roving eyes, in her cozy corner, shielded from the view of most  others, filling the seat exactly with her perfect curvaceousness, she has false promises written all over her many allurements for me (who else) bored to death, at this blighted moment, triggered by scrolling account statements when all I love to see are words, dainty pulchritudinous words, I can munch always. In spite of my valiant efforts,to make do with what is at hand and appreciate the poetic bit, her body language whispers, as my existential compulsion demands, I couldn't move any further. I do my best, try to caress her gently with my brooding  eyes, trying hard not to look duplicitous, but my eyes, curtained off with boredom and drooping, easily lose focus, seeing this, her eyes pop out,yet my arrows that lost verve hit sometimes! Now, with enthusiasm renewed,she gives it a try,but repeatedly fail, every shot she returns is a  blank, such a cruel curse of cupid! She is an impostor, tamed sheep cross dressed as a wanton she wolf, the easy chemical repulsion, lectures  to me on the alchemy of affinity, but how can I complain, it's not a clause  in her letter of appointment.
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
On boredom: An office memo to self
They are                 monotony. Pulchritudinous                               aesthetics, Alleviation                       to                              seclusion. Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God draw shame on backs of necks so close? Or is it                                                                                                                                       just me? Conjuring                     fraudulence Accrediting                        ludicrous                                           buoyancy I know its there I know the life that flows through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice I breath you in why else are we so close? And           innocent And             serene And             happy And                                                                                                                                              secluded. How can you sit not feel those things I feel not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways so close... They are                  tolerable Doused                ardor                             maybe. Benumbed                        incandescence                                                     maybe. But still                They are                                                                                                                                                            here.
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Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
Heartbeat
They are                 monotony. Pulchritudinous                               aesthetics, Alleviation                       to                              seclusion. Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God draw shame on backs of necks so close? Or is it                                                                                                                                       just me? Conjuring                     fraudulence Accrediting                        ludicrous                                           buoyancy I know its there I know the life that flows through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice I breath you in why else are we so close? And           innocent And             serene And             happy And                                                                                                                                              secluded. How can you sit not feel those things I feel not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways so close... They are                  tolerable Doused                ardor                             maybe. Benumbed                        incandescence                                                     maybe. But still                They are                                                                                                                                                            here.
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47
far across the scintillating galaxies, a dying star fulminated, blasting celestial fantasies. then, a pulchritudinous nebula was born and woven constellations she wore. the moon hung like a chandelier in her eyes, studded with jewels like diamond stars. splendor interstellar dust swathed around her ivory skin, virtue and intelligence she always has from within. her mellifluous voice sends you to a place full of gentle breeze, where azure firmament embraced few puffies made of cellulose fiber and soft creamy cheese. and with a touch of her fingertips, you’ll see cerulean seas. she’s someone that you’ll always remember for she makes learning as her adventure. and her euphonious words that shakes your mind and your world. she’s the universe’s child.
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May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 12:06 AM UTC
the universe's child
Beautiful You are beautiful Let me try to describe You are cute and charming And alarmingly disarming You’re elegantly delightful With a twist of fascinating magnificence Your smile is alluringly dazzling Your words keep me in suspense There’s a wonderful admiration In the way you are delicate and pretty With a fire I know you hold inside You demand anything but pity Comely and angelic You’re ravishing and divine You’re the most pulchritudinous woman I’ve ever met And I so wish to call you mine <3
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
Pulchritudinous
The pulchritudinous aquatic lair, Of resplendent melancholy depth, A place damaged beyond repair, Teeming of glazed ghosts of death. Hither and yon an offed world lingers, The alluring charm of the cadaverous expanse, Where bony-ice settles deep in frigid fingers, A bloodless shore of gothic romance. Eyes burning with a copper glance, Vermilion waves wash over the bare sea-bed, Waking the argenteous sand lance, From their hide-out in death's head. This oceanic God's acre, Populated by inert remains, Destroying the soul of a ballad-maker, Hang-out of many sins and life-banes. My languid, crippled stony heart, Floating in this burgundy desert, In fragments shattered into pieces of ****** art, Blown away in a riotous explosion of subvert. A/N: This poem is a tribute to the thousands of forgotten lives lost under the sea.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Azrael's Aquatic Acre
I know that face That chiseled, Rugged, August, Attractive face. I know those eyes Those deep, Alluring, Chestnut-colored, Playful, Romantic eyes. I know those lips Those full, Inviting, Indulgent, Kissable, Sensual, Warm lips. I know that smile That genuine, Broad, **** Friendly, Gorgeous, Delightful, Charming smile. I know that voice That intoxicating, Soothing, Gentle, Silvering, Admirable, Enticing, Witty, Smoky voice. I know that skin That olive colored, Tough, Smooth, Hot, Touchable skin. I know that body That masculine, Appealing, Divine, Fine, Magnificent, Ravishing, Hard body. I know those hands Those strong, Pleasing, Gentle, Captivating Protecting, Hard working hands. I know that mind That imaginative, Creative, Fun, Beautiful, Intelligent, Always thinking mind. I know that heart That heroic, Passionate, True, Faithful, Strong, Undying heart, That loves mine © Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Pulchritudinous
She was 'Pulchritudinous' she was immaculant. In your darkest hour, she would make the rest of your time sunny. Whenever i was with her it was like being in a really good dream. When i was away from her it was like someone woke me up when it got really good. She would make you feel immortal, as if anything was possible and it was with her love. Those eyes that would send me to the most beautiful places in the back roads of my mind. She was the type of mystery i wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life trying to unravel. She was the type of girl who would have you up thinking about your future and Listening to love songs at 3am, Though there still is no one like her. Her smile would your heart smile and your lips tremble. But... She warned me. She told me from the start. But still, i pursued her. She was one of the girls who you did want to fight for. It's my fault i ended up like this. But i don't regret it. She gave me the most miserable happiness ever, To this day i still love that girl , she made me realize the world is bad.. Unless you're willing to wait for the good. I'll never forget her, i'll love her tomorrow, in a month and in a couple of years i'll wonder where she is and what could of been. But she warned me And that's the harsh truth. <3
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Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
The Harsh Truth.
Day 1: Blithe (bl-I-the); happy or joyous "I'm sorry but I'm rather blithe right now. It was nice to meet you." Day 7: Convivial (kon-viv-ve-ul); friendly, lively, or enjoyable "The room spikes from dull to absolutely convivial just from your precence, darling." Day 15: Pulchritudinous (puhl-kri-tood-n-uhs); extreme physical beauty "You look absolutely pulchritudinous tonight." Day 16: Love (luhv); an intense feeling of deep affection "I love you." Day 30: Veridical (vuh-rid-i-kuhl); truthful; veracious "This isn't how it used to be, if i'm being completely veridical" Day 45: Simulacrum (sim-yuh-ley-crum); a slight, unreal, or superficial likeness "You were just a simulacrum for real love!" Day 49: Lugubrious (luh-goo-bre-us); full of sorrow or sadness "Will the lugubrious feelings ever stop?" Day 50: goodbye (good-bi); used to express good wishes when parting "Goodbye..."
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May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
He taught me a new word everyday
*are the pulchritudinous flowers seeded in the garden of lies*
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC
Shame
Gracious patience at my feet White shadows ride Gliding downward to meet Arrows tide The hardest part Science of love Stardust apart Alliance from above Snapping free of soul What I got wrong Wrapping that love whole Glut neigh brought song Bleed your heart over the side Cede war art nationwide
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
Pulchritudinous Lights, Shining On
*Even when I know they're but unfinished stories, accepted pain and acknowledged sorrys, virtual realities reflected from mirrors of a lost paradigm and engineered metaphorically vocalized  pantomime even when I know that they're not the end of the road (that there're even many more miles to walk) or even  blossoms of life within a spectral pod but merely a beautiful view of the vast and rough ocean from the calm of a floret mental dock through tinted glasses in pink of perception with utmost optimism a fairy born of refraction through a phantasmal prism even when the universe disputes the truism of a magic wand I still fantasize about holding your hand and matching with you through thick and thin for better for worse, against the torrents from foe and keen in turbulence of rage and storms of tears till we find laughter until the bruises of souls and hearts shattered find mending in the enema of our blending so we can have a happy ending even when I know forever and for always is just a true lie and we are likely to more than anything make us cry, I still believe in pulchritudinous endings, in happily ever after in you and I, in the beauty of wilting roses and those in the rain in sticking together through the pleasure and pain... Even when I know love is just a word, we can lend it every meaning we've ever dreamed I still believe in real romance, in the broken being fixed in forever being now and now being forever in never saying never, in you and I truth or lie, do or die... roads and bendings long as it's with you, I believe in Happy endings...*
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
Happy endings
*Even when I know they're but unfinished stories, accepted pain and acknowledged sorrys, virtual realities reflected from mirrors of a lost paradigm and engineered metaphorically vocalized  pantomime even when I know that they're not the end of the road (that there're even many more miles to walk) or even  blossoms of life within a spectral pod but merely a beautiful view of the vast and rough ocean from the calm of a floret mental dock through tinted glasses in pink of perception with utmost optimism a fairy born of refraction through a phantasmal prism even when the universe disputes the truism of a magic wand I still fantasize about holding your hand and matching with you through thick and thin for better for worse, against the torrents from foe and keen in turbulence of rage and storms of tears till we find laughter until the bruises of souls and hearts shattered find mending in the enema of our blending so we can have a happy ending even when I know forever and for always is just a true lie and we are likely to more than anything make us cry, I still believe in pulchritudinous endings, in happily ever after in you and I, in the beauty of wilting roses and those in the rain in sticking together through the pleasure and pain... Even when I know love is just a word, we can lend it every meaning we've ever dreamed I still believe in real romance, in the broken being fixed in forever being now and now being forever in never saying never, in you and I truth or lie, do or die... roads and bendings long as it's with you, I believe in Happy endings...*
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30
Seed in stony soil blooms my soul; Pulchritudinous passionate paeony
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
When Love Is Found (10W)
3,650 days since the first time ive heard her name you think within that time frame i would know everything about her but here's something i just noticed she's 5'4 but walks like she 4'5 its a walk with no purpose other than to get away from here she has eyes that could light up the sky but they never leave the ground all because 1 boy ruined her perception of beauty it would explain why she shrugged off every compliment i gave i tried my hardes to convicne her she was beautiful but she was convinced she was anything but I am gonna give it one last try so you can see yourself through my eyes just listen theres a girl with fine hair the color of the suns glimmering rays just before sunset with eyes so captivating that if you were handed a map , you would throw it away cuz theres no other place youd rather be lost A smile that would make a ****** drop his spoon becuase he realized he's missing out on a greater high lips that probably taste so sweet it makes sugar taste bitter a body that curves in all the right places it makes a model seem like a manikin but shes more than just eye candy she has such a big heart because she does so much for everyone else and expects nothing in return she has such a sense of humor that she'll laugh at a joke from a child or from a man with his mind in the gutter she makes me believe God IS TRULY SELFLESS becuase i wouldve kept an angel like her in Heaven So maybe youre right youre anything but beautiful because beautiful is such an original word to describe such a unique person like you You're stunning You're miraculous You're drop dead goregeous You're courageous You're charismatic You're Pulchritudinous , i didnt even know what the hell that meant until i realized it defined you I wanna see you walk like you do after you just proved me wrong not like your 5'4 but like your 6'5 and after readign this you better call rehab because all i want is to see your smile and you better realize that youve been looking in a mirror of lies , holding on to what you shouldve let go and that you finally realize what youre truly worth .. to me .... and everyone else around you
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Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
ANYTHING BUT BEAUTIFUL
3,650 days since the first time ive heard her name you think within that time frame i would know everything about her but here's something i just noticed she's 5'4 but walks like she 4'5 its a walk with no purpose other than to get away from here she has eyes that could light up the sky but they never leave the ground all because 1 boy ruined her perception of beauty it would explain why she shrugged off every compliment i gave i tried my hardes to convicne her she was beautiful but she was convinced she was anything but I am gonna give it one last try so you can see yourself through my eyes just listen theres a girl with fine hair the color of the suns glimmering rays just before sunset with eyes so captivating that if you were handed a map , you would throw it away cuz theres no other place youd rather be lost A smile that would make a ****** drop his spoon becuase he realized he's missing out on a greater high lips that probably taste so sweet it makes sugar taste bitter a body that curves in all the right places it makes a model seem like a manikin but shes more than just eye candy she has such a big heart because she does so much for everyone else and expects nothing in return she has such a sense of humor that she'll laugh at a joke from a child or from a man with his mind in the gutter she makes me believe God IS TRULY SELFLESS becuase i wouldve kept an angel like her in Heaven So maybe youre right youre anything but beautiful because beautiful is such an original word to describe such a unique person like you You're stunning You're miraculous You're drop dead goregeous You're courageous You're charismatic You're Pulchritudinous , i didnt even know what the hell that meant until i realized it defined you I wanna see you walk like you do after you just proved me wrong not like your 5'4 but like your 6'5 and after readign this you better call rehab because all i want is to see your smile and you better realize that youve been looking in a mirror of lies , holding on to what you shouldve let go and that you finally realize what youre truly worth .. to me .... and everyone else around you
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28
start a poem; with what? I choose a word and think: I always start poems just like that; I want to be more abstract and tralala pulchritudinous -- there's a word for you; I used a thesaurus, how phoney how transposed and disconnected from my heart I write and I know I can do better than that than this yeah, I know that and I'm a strong believer of art creating itself when it's meant to be created and that sometimes it's just not meant to be but when there is so much filling the heart with wistful agony and agonizing wistfulness, creating something pretty feels pretty good; and you'd think there'd ought to be something to write about if I can feel this much inside of me if it's that heavy... I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I'm afraid. but that's not good enough, is it? I want to write wilting lilies and papercuts and stubbed toes and a bit of rage and longing, but mostly I want to write the truth and the truth is I'm afraid that I'm not enough; but I know, I know, that's not good enough, is it?
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
I don't know how to say how I feel
enthralled, you got me in a reverie about your doll eyes alike the stars that shines from a far cosmic galaxy. love, you’re a pulchritudinous nebula. almost failed to respire while keeping our eyes fixated. you’re my blanket, my comfort through this storm. as the sun kissed goodbye to the cerulean sea, the whispers of the waves shift ‘neath your feet. in a cold breeze, it felt unusually warm, similar to a milkish pale, creamy optimism latte. you’re fond of fireflies falling into your palms, like a fairy dust in a fantasy. fallen flowers amid abysmal situation, a frantic feeling fades away instantly. my Allie, i’ll be your Noah who stares and loves you endlessly. grateful to be lost in your smile, will always hold your hand till eternity.
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May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 8:56 AM UTC
so this is what it feels like to be in love...