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Scott M Reamer Apr 2013
Man life know just set eyes way like young world soul day hunger space mouth earth thoughts ignorance blind things mind knew final moment human creation kind creatures souls high forgotten dream love spoke self existence face holy deep bound think home void say surrender ear forever called held ephemeral red state end shall heed hope edge living waking fall sea wake garden need February thought past wanderer got men page colored tepid terrible **** proudly untitled features point painted faceless box forgot render wild spring splendor  handfuls looking half brain lost torn ancestral  unseen vision inner summer honor mister owned banner save today fear groans wasn't smoke  street fable strange year contrast black years  able pain body spoken word known motion  palpitate reeling nature culture disclaimers  cancer beg attentive frames ****** base profound double remember wholly finger death token  cries continue folk oh fishing form broken true  divides spread ah twas away breathe wait warning hallowed wish closer lens turn eye live  constant current author hung theory dangle  bramble chemical new force changes adderall  anymore giving beneath possess pardon commentaries eternity internal walk reason  long change does idea glimpse consciousness  wandering simply wonder physical dreams war  sleep told rest benign prior begging truth little  2012 born tale crow bowels allegory animal rule  exasperate making horse curse hands ones read  rearrange capture doing command fail awake  aperture seedlings shift steely sir nap spead ****** demons slits clever telling loud spits la-la-di-dah killing slip game reflected nameless ask  lovers rabid bear salivate plunder shameless  famously savior mint rides menthol bully fate traded melodies play misunderstand mammals gentle witless fine utterly savage silt tongue-less  dirt dilutes pure non-sensory taste briefly ravage dismember it''ll shedding ruined curtain  knots offers plot fulfills munificent two-act  relegates boxz bug altruistic wintergreen tossing  callously guise grovels one's singers treachery ashes mid-life mutter fashion parading  ambiguity separatist liars staple steeping neath  guidelines scoffing stitch moans civil wrote  Fictitious undoing fables table effigies serve  sonnets staged remark psalm swoll praise harken  beggar verse bread lines heavily electricity detection snow sack-happy preaching credit  spotted wicked best gravity gun campaign owe  barge choir revelry celebratory satiated sinking  headline pack hound persistently propaganda  gentlemen excluding diminished ******* run idles  occupied levies wolfishly honestly misinformation cuba vehemently dumb grace spectator erasing  toned sage crowded secrets inter-connectivity  loaned prayer hymns grave mistaken magnified  vandals selective jump leak escapes says minister  buckle mass honesty shut tar children's hats  monument doping long-lived electrical ladle  exaggerated cartoons address seconds cool cradle bleak yang's mind-framed hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry persist scrap slipping individual talk wonders  leaving questions fold actor fancy parchment  fates engenders flown jaws stripped longer music  sacrifice fakers book boldly frown sigh atop patient hang trade occupation blows spectacular  whispers worthy backward waving certainty danced suppose needn't ‘drawkcab’ second-guessing  boys forget marched motto heads tightly lies two-tone earthbound harp twice turns goodnight  lying ***** internally indiscriminate nickname  drunk convictions myth steep  in-consumption  fitting artist **** universal sick expressions bad  du spell melody big siphon proud learn sprawls song spastic something temperaments utter check  fissures stomp totality blend definitely thrall sing rug voice shade pestilence ties commiserate round devil steady brains emotional certain gate  suckling gates dearth decay weight bounce pound  carrier pangs glass startle contest earthen web  tug pressed air patience flush amassed guest gone apprehension staring empathize captain believe fading in-perceivable deathbed guarder makes surrounds scatter drooling ebb blink cob tome  venom near door lair derision draws host stairs scent parts curiosities spider webbing surprise wares tips stepping ascetics starkness realize picture surroundings dictations grand pillars  deaf limited comparisons greet visual residents  personal settings dismiss alien law stability common earthly shiftless places prelude  understanding mosaic keen trifling embodiments  geared inception whisper visible jowls kiss murky  puddle rank dawn dichotomy single faithful fraying pays tailor veil climb mores pence whim  breath wellspring samara god stony pear  shadows fruiting forebodes moonlit looming  shown passed bog gold wracked faint tongues  noble preachers mirror shifting layered depth  threads jungle narcissus bemused seamstress self-worshiping architect's wore slumber anomalous  opened barren seam lip caustic scene coupled brick gardener's clenches -with forms idle breed  embodied lore starving empathy design illusion  tree coat fabricate lucid mason scatter-all  narrative seeking imbued 16th shivering chemicals 17th 15thrisk improperly dare  deliberate plan purge try brought chapter speed  aide utmost spirit leading intervention felt  recall recent advent sincerity times diary  lackluster piously lasting happy holding hear  stem tasteless whimpers wet spine monstrosity  dripping causes position quite softly claws pallet  answer digging tearing beast satiating circle breaks skips redwoods beckoning rotted hushed  gray lapsing monoliths deities creborus  imbuement hand stroll paradigm rendered chorus shy whispering forest residual tension  surrenders tolerance lull anew sentenced  bearing tide birds dirge divergent rim joined  cogs wood hesitant mist emergent towering offer  awareness confinement inverted faultier stowed  plane sanctified blanketing trusting memory fossil flash twists laden self-indulgent fleeting invitation agony grip shore impetus lingering  crows promise gift union swallowing endless floor supposed ecstasy sensory intent  psychotropic cradling placement interned  jagged connectivity exchange congenial begun  summons singular spiral assumes ambient reciprocates re-entry fruition reached aggregate lifetime limbs birthed instinct  frightening tarry proper entire light  boundaries innocence pursuit ago discover left  youth's unknowing sacred time place meager  simple fact cast ceaseless wide-eyed literal  apparent coincidence create boldness morphed  crooked kempt mere stumble buried shutter fairy  pivotal definitive months worth shear ambition sound required journeyed self-reflections title  facets vague restless intimation gut wanderer's  leap motivate path account boy soon bears faith  question tripped reasons uproot awaited confronted days step heal provocations wisps crushing transcend chronicles instance  directness raw drove occurrence objective-less  real enters slightest confident nondescript  typify  foreshortened interment paradox bitter heart  devoid jeopardy angry sensation confidential guilty arrogance mercy compliance reprieve  vincent deadening factual sign emotion awe  inhibition shackled butterflies absence actual sciences acknowledgement violent stagnant  spiritual American doors roots lack matted fore  gestures society cause streams intensity hair impossible discord lonely hearts resounding  jest  what's flavored pains closed toxic contented  happenstance scientific knowledge yeah  wizardry shaking stifled withdrawn bloom  jitter dreads settle asocial hulton make  predisposed figurative reflections demeanors  wondered affect hulton's projected sense  morning industry arrays ghosts feeling  certainly endomorphic where's partially wrath  passer mornings jovial unease advertized asking  trash onward wished tempers media mentality connect pasts sharp-toothed scramble great colours trial test salvation continually lent  degree secretly subjection social waned  disconnected colors grimly intellectual civilization cash trading baffling particular  digest myths monumental ending seasons winter  repetition introducing agent everlasting  shoulders delivered honestly-- possession funny  continence history unsightly function suffering propulsion profession divulge familiar tugs era  importance capability perpetuation spite inventory words entirety leveling fray insight  date record continues writer getting evermore fellow tongue possessions identical proof accuracy education similar sack admittance  favor unravel conveyance guilt gives beginnings  predicting audacity definition bobby heady eaters frameless learned release stone grandeur sang  speak molds sleeps split built seats people folded  sheer pour evoked playhouse liquid boring  tellers frayed stark walked reality pleas doth  preformed shows beak pride squawks opinions  greatest bold stunning sightings he'd loudly slain  sunk watch legend precipice theater deeper compound commentator civility justly silly sin  reverent seen prophetic moral confounds notion  lacking explain attempt prolific viral estrange proclivity scorn hide blur pious strung eden's  horror cut skin arch cruel twig mother vile  pass lend woods peach shrunken trail man's canopy worn 434 eat warm limb familiar father delete.

You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
As the redeemed of Jesus Christ, if we are ever to find true refreshment in our desert wanderings, it will be as we choose to dwell in God’s presence and in the newness of His daily mercies through faith. Our trials tend to force us, like pushy but invaluable friends, to learn hands-on what it is to live in the grace of the moment.

We live in the grace of the moment by continually recognizing both the immense need and the immense blessing of each moment (by developing a conscious and habitual attitude that says, “I am so desperately needy AND I am so abundantly blessed.”) and by relying on the Holy Spirit to teach us exactly how to reconcile the two. This happens as we first learn to live in the reality of the eternal, for it's an ever-present awareness of eternity that liberates us to receive every present moment with thankfulness and live it to the fullest, without setting up false expectations for it or worrying about the next.

When we are convinced that our life is hidden with Christ and He alone is the Prize, that this world is not our home and we are simply on assignment here, and that our pain and failures are only temporary but, with His redemption, the beauty and wisdom to be gained from them are eternal, we are set free from living in the regret of yesterday or in the fear of tomorrow. We can instead live in the blessing of the right now which fully meets the need of the right now because both need and blessing are gifts from the Father to get us ready for eternity and to meet our Bridegroom face to face. We have need of nothing but Him and His grace, and His fullness dwells in us.

The life lived in the grace of the moment is the life absolutely surrendered to the reality of God’s wisdom, God’s character and God’s sovereignty over it, for in entrusting ourselves to those, we acknowledge that He has a set and planned purpose for our lives, that it is good, and that He is powerful enough to carry it to completion. His wisdom assures us that He has always had in mind, down to the smallest details, exactly what He is doing with us; His character, that His heart is ever faithful toward us; and His sovereignty, that His directing arm cannot be shaken or thwarted. They reveal to us explicitly that He loves us with all of His mind and heart and strength, and in that knowledge we find perfect rest. As beloved children we know that we will be taken care of without having to know how it will happen or what it will look like.

In our helplessness we can simply look up to Him, reach out for Him and cry to Him in humility and thanksgiving, for our God cannot resist eyes and arms and hearts doing that. He always picks up and holds close to Himself those who long for Him. We may think that what we most desire are answers and perfectly successful plans and reasonable control over our lives, but what our souls crave is comfort and intimacy and love, and we can have those the instant we fully surrender to His embrace. He may sometimes hide His face from our “Why?”s but never from our “Hold me!” cries.

If we mistakenly suppose this life to be about this life, we will miss the present grace for fretting over and fighting for all the blessings we don’t have or fearing that those we do will be lost, until we find that they have become an unbearable millstone around our necks. If we pin our hope on anything in this temporary world it will be no stronger than that—a mere pin, easily pulled out and easily broken when life weighs too heavily upon it.

Enduring hope can only be based on God’s absolute promises given to us in His Word, not on our own expectations or wishes or impressions of how things ought to be. Enduring hope lets go of everything that can be lost to take hold of everything that cannot, and in doing so is actually able to squeeze the sweetest nectar out of those released and perishable blessings so that even their losses, though painful, do not leave a bitter aftertaste. For it’s often in the loss of a thing that its worth to us becomes most precious, and by letting it go with grace we can best savor its purest delights.

Realizing that the pain runs so deep only because the beauty ran so deep and that without it having once touched us we wouldn’t now know the emptiness of its loss, our grief will eventually turn to thankfulness that it ever touched us at all, and we will be left awed by the mystery of its haunting. There's a peculiar kind of beauty that can only be experienced with the innate knowledge that the moment is fleeting, and the most intense beauty can only be seen in the presence of both light and shadows.

The ability to enjoy our tangible blessings is surely heightened by the conviction that they are not ours to possess, by the acceptance that their loss is inevitable, and by the understanding that they were never meant to satisfy. For the enjoyment, then, will be absent the tainting dread, the taking for granted, and the twisted expectations which so easily and often mar our earthly pleasures. We will relish what we’ve been given today but recognize it may very well be gone tomorrow, and even in that uncertainty we will find a contented peace, for in every loss there lurks a hidden blessing, and all that really matters can never be lost to us. It is just as important to be a good steward of our losses as it is of our more obvious blessings, for the beauty that comes from nobly and graciously accepting loss far exceeds any tangible beauty that can be taken.

Knowing that we belong to another time and place and that this one is only meant to lead us there, like the charming towns one passes through on the way to a better destination, we will take in the sights with wonder and delight but keep traveling on toward our true home. For these sights, though tantalizing, are like mere slivers of light from a crack under the door compared to the glory to be found in God’s Presence. But when received as personal gifts of His grace, they become to us a stage precisely and delicately set by a Lover to attract the attention of His beloved, to show off His greatness and show forth His beauty to win her heart, and our hearts indeed are won.

To live in the grace of the moment is to keep looking to Jesus—to Jesus’ feet to lay our burdens down, to Jesus’ arms to be held securely, to Jesus’ hands to receive all we need, and to Jesus’ face to know our only sure hope and hearts’ true desire.

*Lord Jesus, merciful and all-sufficient One, in every need, small or great, tangible or intangible, give me the discernment to discover Your extravagant gifts of grace, the wisdom to receive them, the eagerness to open them and the passion to cherish them well. Give me eyes to see and a heart to fully enjoy with gratitude each blessing You have prepared for me today, for this very moment, and may I thrill to Your every advance of love.

"Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory."
~ Colossians 3:1-4

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding..."
~ Ephesians 1:3-8

"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him who called us by his own glory and goodness."
~ 2 Peter 1:3

"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."
~ Colossians 2:6-7

"Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
    for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, 'The LORD is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for Him.'
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in Him,
    to the one who seeks Him;
it is good to wait quietly
    for the salvation of the LORD."
~ Lamentations 3:22-26

"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;
    my hope comes from Him."
~ Psalm 62:5

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."
~ Romans 8:18

"Therefore, holy brothers and sisters, who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, the apostle and high priest whom we confess."
~ Hebrews 3:1
erika3247 Nov 2013
Pushy Mother-Fcker
Copyright © 2013 Erika Whitmore

Pushy mother-f
We doin’ this or not?
And - you can keep your ******* venom, Dude
Is that really all you got?

You lodge your disgust and hate
Like an acid punctuation
Contort your face and raise your voice?
I smile at your frustration

I grow weary at the thought of you
And tire of your pathetic jabs
It’s been eons since I said we’re through
I won’t be your punching bag

You try to walk the line and
And bide your time
And play both ends against the middle
But you better know that I’m at my prime
So, your “tactics” matter little.

I’ll take the blame
And all your “spew”
You’re so predictable it’s lame
Around we go, in circles now
But your ******* remains the same

So, get your head out of your ***
And take a look around --
You sadly think your **** don’t stink
But, like gas, I’ll have to pass
Before I’m knee deep in your brown

Your arrogant, condescending tone
Is driving me insane
So, I just hope
For your sake that you’re prepared
…‘Cause it’s about to rain!
Olivia Kent Oct 2013
In syncope she quivers.
Shaken up.
Lost all her fizz.
She's known all along.
All that glitters is not gold.
The silversmith came.
Forged a blade of silver.
For her to slip into her purse.
The blade in shape of crescent moon.

Ripped her heart to shreds too soon.
Wanted to keep it close at hand.
To breach no promises.
Not to demand.
Princess pushy.
Has regrets.
Would have a whole lot less.

If he should answer messages sent.
Then requests would be received.
Wouldn't be pushy.
No pushiness would e'er be shown.
There'd be no need at all.
Ignorance is bliss they say.
If only she had known.
She wouldn't have to moan!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
mikumiku Dec 2018
I met her on a narrow street of old Verona
Her beauty’s magical, her name was Lady Mona
She rolled a cigarette between her diva fingers
A little cherry smoke around her gently lingers

She had a long deep fire-coloured autumn hair
That with the wind dance as if out of very care
Her eyes are brighter, gayer then azure sapphires
Two little diamonds that can start unholy fires

Her ******* are full of life, the sweetest goddess milk
It taste like childhood memories wrapped up in silk
The skin – an undiscovered lands of sinful wild
It sends you on a trip so rough yet very mild

She was so picturesque, a genuine sugarbomb
Like rays of sun that dazzle through a naked palm
I pray thee, Jupiter, align the heaven stars
And let me be the one who strikes of her guitars

Wish I could walk to her and ask her dearly out
I feel so brave yet nervous, want to scream and shout
I want to spill it out, express my inner passion
But that’s not me behaving in such crazy fashion

Hell to the no! I go! I’ll spit my fire lines!
I am a blonde! I curse those stupid *** designs
I’ll offer things to her, I promise I’ll pushy
****, I am gonna offer her my cola *****

If men be ***** models, I shall be one too
I have one in my mouth – a nasty point of view
If men can flirt and conquer, so can ******* I
This Aphrodite’s taken, she is only mine

I walk to her, approach her like the mighty Taurus
Rehearse my lyrics, shuffle through my love thesaurus
I smell perfume – ambrosia, nectar, lemonade…
Formation, hold up, queen of… ******* Lemonade..?

“What is the name of thee, do tell me, pretty dear
Just like the beauty goddess you to me appear
By any chance you are one of the youthful Graces?
Be careful, darling, I can see your leather laces”
Dorothy A Apr 2012
The first time that Evan laid eyes on her, he told himself that he was going to marry her. Embarrassed by his own fantasy, he quickly dismissed that thought as fast as it came to mind, telling himself what an idiot he was. Yet, from time to time, in spite of his reasoning, the thought would invade his skull.

What a dumb idea anyhow! It was just lame, teenage fantasyland! Girls did that kind of junk all the time, saying they were going to be Mrs. So-and-so, and thank God nobody could read his mind to know what he was dreaming up! Like she would marry him! He felt like a dumb ****, great in athletics, but far out of her league. Not even having the courage yet to ask a girl out on a date, and now he was already thinking of marriage! Pathetic! Really! Only a freshman in high school, he felt he should know better, lacking the good common sense his dad always tried to drive into him and had himself.

Ginny Delgado belonged with the smart kids, the brains of the school, although she seemed to stick more by herself, away from any stereotypical clique. Evan had first seen her in his biology class, and he remembered when other students wanted to copy off of her test papers. She never allowed any of that to happen, though, even if it would gain her popularity, false popularity but attention just the same.

It was a surprise to him that Ginny seemed to have few friends. Mostly, girls who were nerdy and smart did not seem very attractive or put together. Ginny seemed to have it all. She was smart and pretty, but she never identified with any of the girls who thought they were hot—and all other girls were not—and so she stood apart as one who shrouded herself in guarded aloofness.

And now here he was at his 20th high school reunion, one he really did not want to attend, but talked himself into going anyway. Perhaps, he could shoot the breeze and run into a few old buddies, his basketball friends. He didn't think that much of Ginny since he graduated from Fillmore, much less anybody from all those years ago. There really wasn’t any reason to reminisce once high school was behind him. School was not misery for Evan Stewart, but it wasn’t a time where everything seemed magical and carefree, not like for some students who looked upon those days as some of the fondest memories of their lives.

It was the class of ’92, and a huge banner displayed across one of the walls read, “Welcome back, class of 1992! Fillmore High School rules!” There was a good turnout, and Evan recognized a lot of people, although there were fewer that he knew by name.  

Sitting under dimly light lights, around a bunch of round tables, Evan now sat with the other alumni, stuck in a crowded hall with music blaring away from the early nineties. He had his overpriced meal. He had his few beers.

But what now?

He was almost bored to death. He was beginning to watch the clock more and more, scanning the room to see if he could possibly find reason to stay longer.  But then something happened that he never expected to happen, never even would have imagined it.

And, suddenly, his heart started to pick up its pace.

Was that her?

Evan thought he had made out the vague shape of a possibly familiar figure, an amazing and sudden surprise. Was that Ginny Delgado?

He wondered if he was seeing things as he intently stared across the room at the shadowy prospective of Ginger Delgado. But with the low amount of lighting, it just might not be her but someone he never even met before. How awkward would what be?

If it was Ginny, she was sitting next to a guy who seemed obnoxious and full of himself. Even from afar, he appeared to be a guy who would be in everyone’s face, with wild hand gestures, talking away and giving nobody else a chance for a word in edgewise.  If that really was Ginny, was that her husband? What a trip that would be! All the sense he once attributed to her would have to have gone out the window, if that were the case.

Sitting at Evan’s table were several of the other guys that were also heavy into high school basketball. Most were married and came with their wives—nobody was alone as Evan was—and now they all tried to act like they were thrilled to be all gathered together to show off their accomplishments. They were all passing around stories of life after high school, after basketball—some with talk of their college days, their wives, their kids, their jobs and careers—plenty of drinks to go around, and some toasting to the good, old days and to even brighter futures ahead. Evan was never married and did not have any children, so he felt he had much less to say. Most of those guys were not even very interesting, even though they tried to make it out that they had achieved so much in their lives. They may have been out of shape and past their prime, but all of them tried to act like they were the same as they were twenty years ago. None of what they all said impressed Evan at all, even though he tried to be interested.

He kept looking at the woman across the room, and the more he looked at her, the more he was convinced he was spot on about her. She had to be Ginny! He should just get up now and have the guts to ask her! But what would she say? Yes, I am Ginny Delgado, and this pushy **** next to me is my husband?

Though he was twenty years older, Evan felt just as awkward and as scared as he did in his freshman Biology class. It was better to just let the issue be. He’d rather save face than look like a total fool.

Suddenly, the unexpected occurred, something that gave Evan’s heart even more of a stir than he initially had when he spied her presence. Was it possible? Ginny now looked like she was starring back at him, as if they had somehow miraculously locked eyes and she had an uncanny ability to notice him back, from that afar off, now being transfixed onto him!  

You’ve really lost it now. What do you think, that she really notices you and remembers you?

Ginny stopped paying attention to the obnoxious man beside her and kept looking in Evan’s direction. She even reached her hand up and gave a little wave out his way.

Timidly, Evan waved back.

Standing up, Ginny started to make her way across the room. The obnoxious guy next to her looked on after her, like he could not believe she had wanted to part company with him. Evan guessed she was not his wife—thank God for that!

No, there is just no way she is coming over to talk to you. Alright, maybe she is. Get a hold of yourself now! Stop acting like a teenager and act like you actually know something about women. Come on, Evan! Get it together! She is coming.

Evan was right. It was Ginny Delgado! But she stopped short of his table to sit a down at the table in front of him, next to another fellow classmate of theirs, a female student that he vaguely remembered, though he did not know her name.

It was almost a relief she did not come to sit with him! Yet the disappointment was equally there. Seeing her more up close, Evan knew for sure it was Ginny. She was still quite pretty, perhaps even more so now, her medium brown hair and her dark purple dress complimenting each other. Not wanting to stare, Evan couldn’t help but to shoot many glances her way, without trying to be too obvious.
She smiled a lot, glad to talk to another person that she knew, and probably glad to be away from the guy she was stuck with before. Her eyes sparkled, and Evan never remembered ever seeing her so unguarded. In biology class, she was quiet, like he tended to be. Now she seemed so different, seemingly freer to be herself. Evan rarely saw her smile in high school, but thought she was very serious and sophisticated.

Before long, the DJ was now playing Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven. Couples at all tables were making their way to the dance floor. Soon, Ginny was approached by some guy who asked her to join him for a dance. She shook her head, no. Nonchalantly, the man turned to the woman that Ginny knew and asked her. She gladly accepted, said something to Ginny as if to have her permission and understanding, and then took the man’s hand to go to the dance floor. Ginny remained at the table by herself, looking on at the dancers with seemingly little regret that she declined an offer.

This might be your only chance, idiot. Are you going to blow it and be a wuss? Go up to her and tell her that you remember her. Go on! It is your perfect chance. What do you have to lose? If she isn’t interested, just go then. You’ve spent enough time here anyway!

“Hi…Ginny Delgado isn’t it?”

Evan asked as he approached her from behind. He cleared his throat. His voice had sounded so gravelly, as if he hadn’t uttered a single word all night. And his heart was beating a mile a minute, and he swore it must have been pulsating through his shirt. He was glad he put his suit jacket back on, for he was probably sweating like crazy.  

Ginny looked up, seemed to look puzzled, but then smiled a little. “I remember you!” she said with growing enthusiasm on her face. “Oh, but I’m sorry. You are going to have to tell me your name again”.

“Evan Stewart”, he replied. “We were in biology class together Remember? We were sophomores.”

A succession of slow songs was now being played, and Ginny’s friend was enjoying the time with her new dance partner. She certainly was in no hurry to make her way back to the table to rejoin sitting and talking with Ginny.

“Oh, sure! I remember now!” Ginny exclaimed. “Evan Stewart. Of course! You were the tall, shy guy that everyone liked because you knew how to win one for us. You were big into baseball, weren’t you?”

“Well, basketball was my best sport. I liked baseball, too, and track”, he replied humbly. It was amazing! She actually remembered more him than he thought she would!  “

Can I sit down and join you?” he asked, his courage and confidence growing.

“Oh, do!” Ginny replied, eagerly.

He felt like he was in seventh heaven. How cool was this? Sitting with Ginny Delgado? It was a bonus to a fairly descent reunion.

“So what have you been up to for the last twenty years?” Evan asked. His face was flush with embarrassment, as if he was just a guy who happened to luck out, but had no real skill in socializing with a woman he once fantasized about.

Ginny laughed a little, putting her hand up to her mouth as if her response was inappropriate. She responded, “You want a few hours? Or should I just give you a one word response?”

Evan smiled, blushing, as he tried to appear smooth and confident. “A one word response?” he asked.

“Yes. I can say it in one word—roller coaster….oops, that is two words”.

They both just sat there as I Can’t Make You Love Me, by Bonnie Raitt, played on.  

“Yeah…I guess I could say that about my life”, Evan agreed. “Would you like me to get you something from the bar?” he offered. “A coke or a beer?”

Ginny stared out onto the floor, as if she never heard him. “Isn’t it amazing how everyone comes to see the same people they always used to hang out with and still intend to hang out with to this day?” she asked. “How boring and predictable!”

Evan looked at her, puzzled, “What do you mean?”

Ginny continued to look out onto the floor, the music now upbeat dance music, and said, “Well, I mean you see all the football heroes all hanging out with each other. The members of the debate team are all huddled together as if they are preparing for the next debate. The cheerleaders, the drama club, the science club geeks…nothing has changed has it?”  

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that is typical. But that isn’t me. Sure, I saw some of the guys I played ball with, basketball, but the truth is I am not really that interested in hanging out with them.”

Ginny turned to look at him, her hazel eyes intent and solemn. Evan added, “I don’t have any contact with any of them. Nothing against them. I just don’t”.

They looked at each other in the eyes for a while. The silence was awkward. It was as Evan’s watching and waiting for her reply was the cue for Ginny to open up, and open up she did.

“I went to UCLA on a scholarship. I became a history major, world history, American history, women’s history. I never intended to teach, not at first. But it just seemed a good fit for me, and I have had plenty of teaching jobs, junior high school, high school. I moved to Sacramento.  I was briefly married after I got my first real teaching job there.”

Ginny’s eyes glistened. There was a pain in them that seemed locked in deep, not really wanting to expose itself too much, but coming out nonetheless.

Evan listened on, eagerly, so she went on, her gaze towards the dance floor “It did not work out. He cheated. He did it more than once and with more than one woman.  And now that I look back, I can see how wrong it all was, especially after my miscarriage. At first, I was so crushed, and I wanted to try again, for another baby, to try to please him, Jim, my husband. Thank God, I didn’t go on and on with him. I am glad I came back here…..back to Springdale.”

She looked back at Evan. He quickly looked away from her glance, his eyes downcast to the table. She wasn’t kidding. Her life was a roller coaster. He did not know what to say, felt so inadequate.

He decided to just share, in return.

”I was engaged once. It was a long engagement. She was a friend of a friend. Lana was her name. She told me she wanted to be with me, but she just wasn’t ready to make the big leap just right away. Actually, I am kind of glad now that I look back. We both owned our own shops. She was a hair stylist and I owned my own car repair shop, but that was about all we really had in common. I mean not really, even though we both liked sports a lot. We never seemed to agree on anything.”

Like he did, Ginny just listened intently, not attempting to make any reply. Evan added, “She was willing to cut me down in a second. I see that now”.

“Well how do you like that?!”

Evan and Ginny looked up as the woman that Ginny came over to see arrived back from the dance floor. She was walking, hand in hand, with her new found dance partner, fanning herself with her hand and laughing.

“Ginny’s got some company, too!” she exclaimed, beaming at Evan.    

Ginny replied, “Rhonda Flemming, this is Evan Stewart. She used to be Rhonda Boehner back in Fillmore”

Ginny turned to Evan to introduce him to her old classmate. “Evan…Rhonda. Evan, I don’t know if you two ever met each other before when we all went to school”.

“I’m not sure I have, either”, he replied, extending his hand to shake Rhonda’s. Rhonda quickly grabbed hold of his and gave it an overly enthusiastic shake.

“Hi, Evan!” she exclaimed "This handsome man next to me  is Brian. I never knew Brian until he asked me to dance!” she said excitedly. “And I am newly divorced and so is he! How strange is that?”

Brian shook Evan’s hand and then Ginny’s. “How’s it going?” he asked, grinning with embarrassment at Rhonda’s forward frankness.

“Ginny is one of the smartest people”, Rhonda went on to Evan and Brian. “We were once partners in an English class. We had to write a paper about each other. That was so fun in an otherwise booooooring class. Remember, Ginny?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, and made a shooing gesture with her hand to convey that Rhonda did not know what she was talking about. “I’m not as smart as anyone ever thought I was. I just worked hard and did my best, but thanks anyway for the compliment” , she said, modestly.  

“Oh, you were, too, Ginny!” Rhonda disagreed. She had a gleeful glint in her eyes. “Always so serious, Ginny Delgado! “

Rhonda grabbed Brian’s hand. “Hey, Brian and I are going to go mingle and walk around and see what trouble we can get into. You two want to join us?  

Ginny and Evan looked at each other as if to say “No way!” Ginny responded, “I think we are just fine here, but thanks”

Rhonda winked at her and then tugged at Brian’s hand. The pair of them went off together, leaving Evan and Ginny to themselves.

Evan smirked at Ginny, and then they both started cracking up with muffled laughter. Evan paused and then burst out laughing again. “Where did you find her?” he asked. A tear actually began to run down his face from laughing so hard, and he quickly wiped it away.

Ginny stopped laughing, tried to compose herself, but busted out with even more laugh
Aesthete Flower Dec 2014
To be a mother is not an easy task,
yet you do it proudly everyday no matter what is asked.
You have turned your baby into a beautiful young lady.
You were there for me since the very beginning and saved me countless tears.
The pushy and wise advice you gave will carry me through the years.
With my every mistake or wrongful deed,
you were always there to understand.
You put no limits on my dreams or anything else I wish to do.
You never forget to say you care or that you love me too.
The smile and tears upon your face when I achieve
provides me with more value in my heart then you’d ever believe.
There is no other person that will shape my heart the way you’ve done,
your job finished perfectly for your precious daughters and son.
We have had a rocky road through triumph and catastrophe, hard time and despair,
but not a single moment of time of not having a wonderful mother there.
You have always put in your last with love and my whole life is not enough time for me to repay you.
We always put our disagreements to the side and manage to make it through.
I know that my teen years have driven you crazy but you have guided me with assurance along the way.
You have given me comfort and certainty with every breath I take within the day.
Your little girl is growing up but your baby girl will always remain deep inside me.
There are not enough words that can thank you for everything you have helped me through emotionally and physically.
I have my whole future ahead of me and you are the women that has lead me and guided me towards the proper path.
Thank you for being not only my mom, but my best friend.
Don't read this in pursuit of love, happiness or inspiration
I do write this for your admiration.
So I say this once, dont be disgusted nor discouraged by what you see here below
Away stricken with anger I go. . .

Id like to take a second to say ******* you and you
For its because of three yous that this anger ensues
I'd tried to endure it, I tried to be nice
I've now heard it not once but 3 x twice

If you have something to to say keep inside
Otherwise shut the **** up and strap in for a ride
I'm not keen nor willing to find another love
But hey what the hell we'll give him a shove

No other love will ever be better than hers
Dont need no more ******* saboteurs
I will do as I please, and love who I like
Pushy *** know-better-than-yous I thoroughly dislike

So I'll say it now and again and again
From all that stupid *** ******* I'd ask you to refrain
Now thanks for the pathetic waste of time
Didn't know taking back someone was such a ******* *crime
Yeah? So I dumped her cause things weren't working out. You think cause you've heard a bit about my relationship you're an expert on what it's like? Come of it. . .
I left a girl I felt I was doing no good, but you see she wasn't ready to admit it was my fault so little by little she won my heart back
But of course your overflowing ego caused you to miss that part.
As soon as I'd left I was right where I belonged, in the comfort of my partner who I was destined to be with. Frankly shes sweeter, kinder, funnier and somehow prettier than ever
So ******* you and you for thinking we were through
Sid Eli A Apr 2014
© Sid Eli Theo
Please meet me now
I forever want to see your pretty face
Because beauty is within my eyes and I see you
as this pretty thing

Tell me more, I want to hear your voice
as you say out loud you aren't even
I ignore it and still look at you with gleaming eyes
I want a kiss

I put my arms around you
And ask what do you think I am thinking
As I hold on tight
And go in for the kiss

But you push away and say no.

No. Is my answer.
I am not a pretty little thing.
I am someone looking for something
to connect with this feeling
that life is ending soon
and we are all just souls
holding on to the edges of the melting ***
looking for sincerity.

Learn boundaries folks, no one wants a pushy creep.
Wishing this wasn't a true story.

All Rights Reserved. Not for public use.
Gwendolyn Jun 2013
Am I suddenly not good enough?
Am I really that desperate?
Am I pushy and annoying?
Am I unworthy of your love?
Am I unworthy of your presence?


I am not good enough
I am really that desperate
I am pushy and annoying
I am unworthy of your love
I am unworthy of your presence

Really must you hate me?
You are too good for me
Am I unwanted?
Never will I live again
You say that you're sorry
I believe you
But I can't let go

You say that you love me
I'm everything
you've ever wanted

But I can't believe you
Not deeply, completely
My memory won't let me

I can't let go
I'm sorry

You think that I'm ******
Too pushy
Too clingy

You don't see I need you
You complete the air that I breath in

It's not that I don't trust you
I don't trust those around you

I know you're not one to
show your true feelings

So I pray that one day
I can let go, believe you
Get rid of the voice in my head

That reminds me of a time when you were
younger, weaker, dumber

When you hurt me
left me broken
to suffer

I know that I'm clingy
pushy, ******
I'm not like you, I relive every moment

I pray one day I'll come to my senses
See that the past is dead
Gone forever

But for now I sit
Suffer, my heart silently breaking
Haunted by images in my head
Jeff Claycombe Mar 2015
tootsie pops, pop rocks, rock candy
sweet tarts, smelly farts, war-heads, sour patch kids
reeses pieces, reeses stix, snickers lickers
fudge pile, chocolate smile, peanut butter bile, sugary style
baby ruths, almond joys, soy bean sauce, creamy steam
ill give u a payday, mayday, hay tastes good with parfai
milkyways stay gay to play games with sunrays
icing splicing with knife dicing
makes cakes, cook steaks, rumcakes
****** sprinkles, rip van winkle, diddily dinkle
gummy worms, germs impregnate firm, permed urns
angel food, carrots, pineapple upsideways
fruits, *****, parachutes, scooters, jello shooters
goobers, corn on the cobbers,
veggie wedgies, pepper leppers, squash boxes,
fry foxes, fleet rocks', carrot tops',
dishes of fishes,
witches brew platypus and fat kush
pushy slushies riding skateboards on gary busy
fussy hussies getting blushy about cussies
cereal made of creoles, bread straight from dreads,
rice is nice with spice, yeast is beast,
last but not least, wheat is a treat,
kiwis, shmiwis, dodos on go phones, starfruits,
bartlejuice, grape drank, sushi stinks.
ill eat anything.
Julia J Medina Jun 2013
When you push love to me
I will walk away from you
But if you follow me
Something bad might happen to you
The only thing that will hold my heart
Is my guitar
But the person that will stop you
Are my brothers
Michaela Gagnon Apr 2015
I'm not mad
The truth is I'm hurt
Hurt more then you will ever know
You think I'm fine brushing off all that we ever had.
You think I'm lying in bed with a smile on my face
Dreaming about my life with him
Some nights yes
Other nights
That's not the case
I lye here with a million things going through my mind
What if I wouldn't of gone
What if I wouldn't of been so pushy
What if non of my flaws would be flaws to you
What if
Then I remember no the only what if is the
What if you changed
What if you grew up and understood what I wanted
Theirs only so many chances you can give someone
Like I said I'm not mad I'm hurt
I know I hurt you too but the hurt I felt
The tears going down my face when you compared me to my best friend and told her all my flaws
I felt like i was never good enough after that
I'm sorry you thought you had to act different to impress me
I'm sorry that I'm bad at showing how I feel
I'm sorry I write these poems and I don't  like looking at the past
I'm sorry I was controlling
The truth is you never had to act different to empress me I was there for you from the start
I was your best friend from the start
I loved you from the start
The truth is I wanted you to show me how you really felt
You kept it all hidden so you wouldn't hurt me
But I felt like I couldn't tell you how I felt because you couldn't tell me how you felt
The truth is I write poetry because it's the only way to really express how I feel and it keeps me from cutting
bet you never knew that
The truth is I do look back at the past every **** day and it hurts like hell
The truth is I was pushy because I wanted the best for you
Best for us
Now I'm sitting here crying while writing this
I didn't hurt you because I wanted to
I made a decision for myself for once
I'm not mad at you
I'm sorry if your mad at me
I'm sorry everything has to end like this
I miss you
I love you
Always have and always will
Now I'm happy for the most part
All I'm missing is my best friend
Maybe one day I will get him back

Twins housework.
Cooking. Your putting our relationship
at risk. You offer up help. But the it ends up in an atmosphere.
Your attitude is critical certainly not uplifting
Out of order.
Ask awkward questions.
I feel so sad  
I am doing  my best.
Twins. Housework  little sleep tired exhausted. Pushed to the limit.
Falling on you
So sad and blue
You seem so pushy
You push me into you
Eating Sushi
Your favorite food

They deem me insane
At least I'm not crazy
I'm all that you claim
I'm a rebel, I'm not lazy
Eating Sushi
With you baby

Took a swim
Towards the lighthouse
With you again
Tide heading south
Eating Sushi
Inside your mouth
Having never sought fulfilment
in the pursuit of being mother
my body is my temple
for use of no-one other
than my own indulged desires
of aesthetics, pleasure, fun,
so, yes, I fret the stretch marks,
the odd pimple on my ***.

I obsess, in terms of thread veins,
for they make me feel unpretty,
so vain, if that doth make me,
I accept in all its gritty,
ugly notions – for us gals are meant to be
vessels of life-giving, all procreation’ry.

“Oh! I know my body’s purpose”!
the new mother’s apt to cry.
I shall not regret my choices
biologics tick… ticking by.
Does that mean our sad mechanics
are bereft of serving purpose?
It is no hard done-by chore,
our childlessness not cursed us.

When I stand, unclothed and natural
my body has a story
I don’t need the marks of childbirth
to feel a sense of glory.
All this talk of ‘battle scars’
babies sure sound painful,
but, forgive me, all you mothers
should I dare to sound disdainful.

It’s just I feel no less a woman
for not having given birth,
and there is no singular purpose
for this body on this earth.
Like living in a desert
enduring shifting sands,
the bits I’ve never really liked
I cover up with clothes and hands.

I’ve no need to ‘love my body’, thanks
I’m just fine with friendly banter.
Angles, poise and lighting
three small words – a mighty mantra.
Self-love is overrated
when costume is the thing,
and my body wears it well, you see,
and the pleasure that it brings
is proof enough that any scars
may be healed to nothing
without the need for motherhood
and its pushy, panting, puffing.

So curse my sour dismissives!
I’m all said and done,
the female form has every purpose
babies ain’t the only one.
Cat Fiske Aug 2015
My grandfather taught me things.
Things I didn't have to learn because I saw someone hooked up to a hospital machine,
But the tiny things that mattered,
Like how you should never play with you fork,
Because you could poke your eye out,
And while we're on the manner of table manners,
His constant hand grabs,
Moving plates and glasses,
Farther and farther in,
For a fear they may fall,
I was so curious of why even now when I'm not as small.
For now I wonder,
Is it so you don't fall,
So you feel safer,
Is this why u always push re plates in,
Have your little problems with everything,
And not afraid to share them with the world,
And try to push them to be perfect,
When you haven't figured out no one is,
I know that you see things in me,
No one else does that I don't even see,
All the potential and this future you constantly go on and on about,
And I think to my self what future,
But you don't give an inch,
And tell me I'm worth something,
That means something to me,
They say you don't chose your family
But I would of chose you still,
Your still going to be old and stubborn,
Like the old folks are,
But your unique in your pushy way,
That wouldn't of honestly made me care about you as much,
If you weren't the way you were,
I love you times every plate you pushed in at dinner,
To ever time you told me to stop playing with my fork when I was eating,
And nothing will change that,
Like nothing should ever change you,
And like you've taught me,
Don't change for anyone but you,
And to push myself to go the distance,
Un edited, staying with my gma and gpa so I figured why not, also why I haven't posted in a while, Ik its ******,
But My cuncussion symptoms have been though the roof latly
Nazi Neyz Jun 2014
I can feel you
   pulling away
      getting ever
          farther from me
             or maybe
                 its me pushing....
Jonny Angel Jan 2014
O my little darling,
let’s drop by the coffee shop,
we'll have a quick hot-brew.
There's nothing like
a mug of strong Colombian!

Then we can head over to Kyoto’s,
we'll have some platters of delicious-sushi.
I really love the sashimi. 
There's nothing like eating spicy raw-fish
coated with that fiery-hot wasabi!

Hey you girl,
I don’t want to sound too pushy,
but it’s getting kind of late,
let’s head over to my place,
we'll mix up
a couple of slow screwdrivers.
There's nothing like
those tasty midnight cocktails,
I love sipping them,
especially with you.

O you’re my prefect date,
so scrumptious,
so true,
I think I love you!
Twinkle Jul 2014
Is it my imagination or is your rudeness warranted
I don’t believe I have a “use-n-throw” written on my heart
Cause if I remember you felt this connection distinct
Without words, without saying a thing.

Tell me how, then the connections reset.
Your words like knife cutting my rest.

Pesky and pushy I may be to your eyes
But I don’t think it was like this sometime back
You’d write to ask me why I was quiet
What’s happened now, why the fight?

A torn chapter I may seem in your book of life
But, for me it was more than that..
Its easy for you to break my heart
I can see that’s just your way to start

Fickle, is your love I can see
Because you didn’t have your way with me.

You see you couldn’t stand the test
I was right, to have bade the time.
For your true colors have now surfaced.
I was nothing but a game at best.

You didn’t succeed and so your wrath has now descended on me
"Ignore", is your best weapon against me.

Try as you might to cut me deep into two.
I will not respond as you want me to.
For my love was not fickle and not blithe
For I truly loved and love you and not on hindsight.

I did what I could do, never wanted to fool you.
Why should I tell you what is not true?
For I rather cut my heart out than feed you a lie.

You know this love was dead before it began.
I still did let my heart that fanciful flight
Hoping that you would understand my plight.

Now I can see, all too clearly.
I do not want to say it, but is shinning fiercely
Yet, I will never judge your attitude
For who am I, someone you never held close.

So adieu, adieu, may our paths never cross
I am leaving you with these words, my very last.

May God bless you my love…may you find your hearts desire
May you find what you are truly looking for
For in your happiness, I shall find my fire
Not a wicked word shall cross my lips
For you, forever…..
Can you love someone so much, that you can say goodbye, so they can go find what they are looking for, if its not you?
Zulu Samperfas Feb 2013
Rejected, contract not renewed
and I hate these people but the rejection still hurts
because no one likes rejection, really even from people we hate and disrespect
which gets lost now because I'm still there and am surrounded by them and
I think I know why this all happened, because I don't fit into the principal's kingdom
where you must have only one drama director and not one and then another one
out there who was just forced out through seniority because she might cause TROUBLE
and it's true I don't fit in because I have gone to excellent schools, even an Ivy, and
I've traveled the world and learned an obscure language and I have so much more
experiences than most of those people could ever imagine having or even wanting

But it's still like the wind has been knocked out of me and now I'm feeling down, so down
and scared, waiting for my next plan--will I be accepted there and what is wrong with
me that I--
must stop these thoughts because they lead me down my dark alley
there was Craig last, who I befriended and tried to love and he could never love
me back and I thought if only I can get him to love me I will feel better and like
I'm Ok in spite of being rejected
and now it's Drew. and I don't like Drew and he kind of likes me
and yet I chase him and spend time with him and I'm not even enjoying
it and he is unpleasant and never says anything nice about me and never smiles
and  is happiest staring at his turtles as they awake from hybernation
and planning his cross country trip that will take all summer combing the country for any national parks he hasn't yet seen
and i yearn for his love and when I've had an awful frustrating time
with him, I ask him when we can get together next because
next time will be better and he looks at me with a stare
and at school a girl comes in at lunch and flirts with him and
i can't stand to be in the same room because its so inappropriate
and his boss struts in wearing high heels and onoe foot in a brace and flirts
and she is married and she gives me resentful, knowing looks
and i don't even like him but this
punch to the gut, this fear now, this not knowing if I'll be accepted back
into the school to get a new credential, the school I left to take this miserable
job. this is driving me crazy like I'm hanging onto a vine, suspended off of a cliff
with water and rocks a thousand feet below and I'm so scared, and every
day cold be another blow and I have only fear and
I must wait and I must build myself up again so I don't chase
Drew, who will only make me feel worse, because he is rude and pushy
as all my friends say and yet I ask to get together with him again.
And I must learn to appreciate myself again so there will be no Drew.
Please no more Drews, or Craigs and the list is quite long.
And one day I do well and ignore him and then as the week progresses
I get tired and it gets worse and I think, that thing, my drug
please I need my drug, and off I go.
I don't need any more drugs.  I need to feel good about me
again, from the inside out
despite the rejection
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
any reading of a philosophy book, outside of university, is mapped without the sort of strategy to receive a grade, for a "correct" interpretation (rather a regurgitation) of said work (mentioned below); to say it in simpler terms: i do not ever think that understanding a concept - in concreto - is worth some sort of "passing on the genes" (memes) of one individual to another - given that a meme has become pop culture, and as the french would put it:
        ce crasse et petit irritante chiotte valeur de merde
                                                                ­                        (i.e. un cliché) -
truly written like and englishman -
   a meme is that crass and small irritant bog's worth of ****
                                                            ­                                           ( " ),
   at least that's peckham french, del boy french,
                         i was well informed about this french dialect.

- and to even "think" why there are so many blue
indians, and so few piggies; perhaps it boils down
to the fact that the blue indians believe in
   burial within fire, rather than earth,
  and they prefer to surround themselves with the living,
rather than with the dead; and piggies do,
  graveyard upon graveyard,
    and that constant "nostalgia", idol-worship
of the past, where nothing greater can come again;
for those who surround themselves with the living,
their existence rages akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial... but for those who surround
themselves with the dead,
   their existences decompases akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial, a heart-broken: nightmarish
earth. -

for some reason, i always get these
"revelations" (for lack of a better word) -
as one might receive a signature
of a thunderstorm in the form of
lightning upon the sky -
           and it usually predicated by
listening to a few pop songs -
   and then listening to the
    *cantos of templar knights
            but then again, you sometimes
really need extremes,
     as the canadian sayings goes -
we only have two seasons,
    one's winter, the other is construction.

but this is about technicalities,
one could even cite the following as
the part of any contract, the terms & conditions
written in the smallest possible print,
   lodged in hardbacks worth over 30 quid -
not your cheap bestseller paperbacks -
   those too could be appreciated,
   but akin to pressure to keep a worth's of
expression in sanctum of a hardback?
   take the year 1996 for the cantos 1st
on toilet-paper (paperback) - but in brick?
take the year 1970...
  and where do the technicalities come in?

   - heidegger's ponderings V, aphorism 41 -
technicalities akin to the rules of
a game of cricket, or at least the pointing system.

but count it nonetheless, half an hour to scroll...
12,700+... till i got to april the 8th
  and resurrect a memory?

.  ע   ‎
יהוה ‎‎‎
                  sighs from on high...
      and laughter into the depths.

let us just say, that digital is
the new hardback edition -
    to condense my works into toilet-paper
till take more years and more pushy-pushy
tactics, to transform
     a hardback into something affordable...
but in reverse...
               what comical inversion,
   30 years will become 300 years to come
  about for someone to wipe-their-***-to-mouth
fathom of what went on at the genesis
of the birth of the internet,
   in some obscure location,
                  like a catholic school in england.

now the germanic pilot-plotline (regarding
aphorism 41, ponderings V):

    promo enigma-alchimia in vivo lingua,
             anti ipse (dixit) in lingua vitro.

(we're not in posh-boy grammar school,
the language is dead, it's become play-dough,
a malagrammaton-monœgo:
for a man's tongue is to his befitting desire
to state the terms of play).

da / ein-da / die-da          vs.                hier   vs.
                                      die-hier / ein-da

( there / a there / the there        vs.
                                                ­                 here    vs.
  the here / a there    -
                               ­ atheistic scissors of
definite/indefinite articles/articulation of
    what's near, and what's far away,
     the dualistic-dichotomy of here&there,
           as far as i am concerned i cannot narrate
this akin to a vampire romance page-turner
bestseller... too many organic chemistry diagrams
concerning electron migration, sorry) -

   but given the "blank" slate genesis, starting
with articles... they go beyond being categorised
as definite or indefinite...
    namely... am i, or can i be assured that
      there's no X variations?
                da     ein da
       die hier     hier            ???????????????

               isn't ein hier merely "being"?
imagine being forced into a there -
                  without being the there,
akin to a zeitgeist, akin less!
      zeitgeist = a there (communism),
  but the there? that's what hegel
said of napoleon entering jena:
       "das ist ein weltgeist!" (capitalism).

and who are the anglophones?
  i cannot respect these "peoples" -
they constantly stutter when it comes to
  their lack of diacritical application,
they stutter... i might as well call them
the strabismus race...
    and if darwinism is to be the vector-catalyst
(hollywood was thrashing american cities
for decades, what damage could this
observation could possibly do?) -
  if darwinism is to be the prime historian,
that darwinism replaces actual history
and becomes neither in vitro, nor in vivo,
but in situ? why do scientists wonder why
universities are undermined in their
humanities, when scientific populism of
biology (i.e. darwinism) has undermined
papa historia? am i... missing something?!
     if you undermine a credible study within
the humanities with enough darwnism?
what do you get? inertia...
     you can burn crosses, but you can also
burn an image of a monkey into a man's mind,
the same result occurs!
      personally, i'd rather burn crosses,
i might end up drinking beer and joking with
a few skin-heads around an unsual campfire.

the other side just... "debates" loud-mouth
******* who haven't learned the gymnastics
of looking up those grandiose black-holes
of blah blah.... blah blah blah... blah...
     i'd like to ask them... does your **** of talk
ooze a perfume of.... strawberries?
   and the punk-fist fields... forever! ooh...
****** *******' salsa! shwing yir hips
ya bunch of conclaves (p.j.w.) - privacy
                     justice warriors).

        taoist's foregetfulness

grounded in maxim primus -
  to allow the world a breath, allow the world
to let you breathe as you deem fit,
   never too soon to be bound to genealogy,
esp. that of the genesis bound to
the new testament -
  for if the old testament begins with poetry,
and if truly metaphorically chained,
then how pitiful is the genesis of
the new testament, which begins with
  something as sorrowful as the nadir
of greek culture, the expired logos,
   a genealogy, with the greeks ransacking
the jews under roman rule,
  just like the ransacking of constantinople
by the venetians in 1204 (4th crusade)...
who'd start a "holy" book without poetry,
but a ******* geneaology?!
          no wonder poetry these days isn't
a rare appreciation...
    but cheap and as tsunami natured
   in its "production" as tabloid press,
  toothbrushes, toilet paper,
                        toothpicks, among other
the new testament is such a massive turn-off...
if you don't begin with poetry,
esp. that of metaphor translated into imagery,
and instead begin with a branch of logic
that the new testament begins with, i.e.
genealogy... and then expect latter poetics
in the text to be taken literally?!
          clue the keen me into the clamours
of the poly-schismatic version of events...
    sure, christianity is a "polytheism",
                           in that it's poly-schismatic.

and of the garden, should adam have approached
first, as he would have done in asia -
         he would have talked with
the serpent sæwelō -
           perhaps that same serpent of
   caucasus - first, to have a thirst of
knowledge tamed - although never really -
  for the serpent sæwelō would have
tempted adam: eat of this tree, its fruit,
  and your thirst for knowledge will be
forever satiated!
   so said the serpent of order
   so said sæwelō (ᛋ), the sun-snake...
the serpent of illumination -
                            the golden serpent.
and so adam bit into the fruit,
   and such thirst as never before filled him,
a thirst for knowledge that hasn't
as of yet seized -
     for the fruit, which adam imagined
would be sweet - was actually filled with salt.

  and we are initiated into the myth
of how the other scenario took place with regards
to a woman approaching the serpent first,
                and for the woman, the serpent
of chaos, known as ansuz (ᚨ) - the siamese -
who said both truth and lie simulatenously
  also known as the god who's name begins with
yod, in the roman tongue (Y),
                          and he said:
  you will know the difference between
good and evil -
    ah indeed he said so, but that said, it would
imply acts being simulatenously both,
rather than either / or -
he continued: you'll be like the æsir (gods)!
      knowing such distinctions,
                   and will know the meaning of fate,
and justice, and due recompense!

as etymological mutations occur,
   and translations into other tongues
go, let's begin with:

sieg heil - old english - sigel - hail sun!
       if ever a führer (the few, the rarer),
                        so too the sun's eclipse -
   louis xiv wouldn't have minded,
    but at least he ****** to his
         cockerel's content to praise sunrise -
but as it stands, an etymological
           "mutation" in translation: hail sun!

-------------------------- p.s. p.p.s. p.p.p.s. p.p.p.p.s.
    f(p.s.) ad infinitum: borrowing from
mathematics, i.e. f(x) - heidegger
invented the algebra of writing in a certain style
that's only worth a neurotic / autistic pedant's
worth of bother...

   let's just say, in terms of style,
                                        it's purely hellish,
   you can only go as far with a text
when the variations
  range from dasein, to da-sein
   to da-sein to da-sein (i.e. da-ßein) -
    to whatever else is enclosed in the book...
i haven't got the time to write
an expansion of these milimetres
            and a litre of *** waiting for me...

   inverse stress on being
              detached from a "there": da-ßein:

   with regard to the world and its being
   constituting beings (heidegger's style
of expression, i know, can be a muddle)...

all i wanted was an antonym:
   rather than the world and its there,
   i wanted the world and its nowhere,
or rather, a pure form of being: a here,
      being detached from beings,
   the infinite dance of "solipsism",
    mono-direct articulation /
   plural-direct articulation (a march) /
mono-indirect articulation (a thought) /
plural-indirect articulation (a commute home)...

in terms of dictionary ref. to oppose da (there):

ist da - is here
                hier - here
komm her! - come here!
           hier & da - here & there
                  auf der stelle - here & now

       schnellen - quickly
   schwellen (ich bin) - i am swelling
schelle - bell
   bruchstelle - break

                            da-ßien = hiersien

i.e. stressor on being,
             which morphs into a reconstruction
of the original equation:

     i.e. "da"-ßien = hier-"sien" ≠ nichtsein...

    and the point being?
    the simple f(x) translation into philosophical
jargon... f(p.s.) ad infinitum...
                      this had to run into a cul de sac
at some point, given all the technicalities
and stylistic disparities between existentialists,
if any remained to live into the 21st century...
but the buggers ****** off
              let's just say the new wave
of concerning italics remains the still
unexplored territory of missing diacritical marks
in the english language...
    as much can be said about writing
            chair    as can be said about
   writing                  krzesło...
           (yes, a consonant grapheme, err-zed)...
funny, in grapheme terms...
   that the german grapheme ß
  never became a replacement of -sch-
     in english -sh- in slavic -sz-,
             seems to be more t'ss... wet snare...
          another example?
    (choo-choo) train / pociąg -
  and yes, that's not implying choo-choo,
   since it's obvious, the verb ćwiczyć:
to train.
Gary Lewis Oct 2013
Clegg was a pushy ******
who never locked his door
pressed his friends forward for recognition
of their efforts.
Quietly in the background
Without telling
What he was doing
for them
never for himself
and in his selfless style
died poor
he had little interest in material possessions
gave most things away
and was smart enough to spend his last dollar
on his last day
©Gary Lewis 2009
Lorraine day Sep 2013
Too bold
Too loud
Too pushy
Too proud
Too disruptive
Too rude
Too obnoxious
Far too crude
It changes behaviour
Stop n think
Before you take
Too much too drink!!
This poison is the cause of so much disruption and problems as it is a vice that grips so many for some it's too late  ! changing lives in a negative way it ensnares its victims of all ages and backgrounds the revenue from its sale being of most importance to governments
Dolly Partings Oct 2013
I was born into chaos, lived through chaos, and later on, sometimes openly welcomed chaos into my life.
Call me the anti-freud, but I don't blame my parents.
They left me locked by key in my own bedroom long enough to know my decisions from then on, and the implications would all be my own.
I was the pioneer for my own future, a regular Matilda.
I learnt to pick locks at eight years old. I got myself in and out of bad situations. Even if it meant hiding for a prolonged period of time afterwards.
Hiding isn't always the cowards way, waiting out situations with a large bag of dolly mixtures and Pokémon cards in the woods has gotten me out of a lot of ****. Hiding long enough to be reported missing to the police, and having people realise they'd rather have me alive and hyper as ******* e-numbers, than hate me for hiding from negative consequences for too long.
I've always been a **** bag. An absolute **** bag.
I ran away from home more times than i'd had hot dinners accompanied by prayers there.
I made no attachments, I had this inner indecisiveness, the ability to choose what was worst for me, on a complete whim.
It's scary, being so impulsive at a young age. One minute i'd be sat on the school bus on the top deck, minding my own business, and the next, I would look down and my ******* would be stuck up at the school teacher making sure we didn't break our own ribs trying to get on it.
Then i'd give a false name.
I had a foul mind. So much that I used to have to write down curse words, and throw the incriminating pieces of paper behind my wardrobe. My mum eventually found them, she knew just how much 'passionate' a child she'd bore after that.
I got used to the taste of soap thereafter, let's put it that way.
I'd always hated the idea of marriage before my parents even divorced, I dismantled my mother's eternity ring some years before, pushing the remaining contents down the sink. Little did they know their marriage would follow it shortly after.
There's things that happened in that house I will never speak of. Like saying the name Voldemort, or Beetlejuice. Far worse childhood nightmares would come from that, realisation.
I used to have this overwhelming urge to see other people's genitals, like it was the window to their soul or something. Looking into their eyes told me nothing, but once i'd gotten into their pants, that was a different story. The unveiling could happen anywhere. Even in aircraft toilets on the way to Disney Land, Florida. I was pushy.
Being a highly sexed child that never spoke, felt completely abnormal. Especially when the only thing I truly found attractive were eyelashes. Which ruled out any gender differences completely. As long as they had good eyelashes, I would follow them anywhere.
Barbie please forgive me for the things I made you do to Ken. I was too young to know.
Being born into this world with nothing but these two people and a couple of generations before them, their job is to guide you. They might not have even wanted you, or later regretted it. But by blood, they're stuck with you for the rest of your life.
They can't send you back to the store for being a defect model, or a little *******. Or else they lose much of their own life to a cell. There's no changing your mind when it comes to family.
But you can choose the five people you meet in heaven.
Ralph Albors Mar 2014
I  tend  to  disappear  from  people's  lives,
No matter how important they are,
Or how great they make me feel.
I  tend  to  disappear  from  people's  lives.

That is the one flaw I hate the most.
People start distancing themselves
Because I don't spend time with them.
I  tend  to  disappear  from  people's  lives.

Can you really judge me for being flawed?
Nobody's perfect, but I guess I'm less perfect
Than everybody else.
I  tend  to  disappear  from  people's  lives.

So if my friends are not pushy,
They will barely hang out with me,
And that's why I have a small number of friends.
I  tend  to  disappear  from  people's  lives.

A few months later, I reappear.
I expect them to act as they did before,
But I always find myself ousted, replaced.
I  tend  to  disappear  from  people's  lives.
Tanvi Bird Nov 2014
I sometimes wish I was more like J. The whole world helps support her, feels sorry for her. She can cry. She can convince people to think what she wants them to think. She holds an enormous amount of power. She convinces people that she is delicate and they do things for her- like D helping her with the FBI job and her professor practically re-writing her Fulbright essay in an intellectual way. Her writing just isn't as organized, but she seeks help and people want to help her.

Me on the other hand-- I do more for people. When I ask them for help, they aren't really useful. I don't know how to talk to the right type of people or how to get ahead. I always knew that J would thrive with just the right opportunities- because she is highly capable.

I just don't do things well enough. Grades ******. Professors don't know and don't care about me. People think I am intense and pushy and controlling. She is all these things to me, and she sometimes makes me intense, but then to the outside world she is sweet and delicate.

Men are attracted because of the way I look, which is pretty but not stunning or gorgeous. In the end, they always leave me for someone more attractive and more chill.

J's ex however thought she was the ideal woman even after they broke up. He wanted to get back with her but did not. It kind of hurt me to hear that because now I know why he kept emailing her after they broke up- he actually was in love with her. She mattered. She was sweet and cultured and delicate.

The guys who left me, left in a heartbeat. They stayed for a while, chasing my tail. Then suddenly found something better and left. Never returned an email, and I was the one with the broken heart who felt dumb and foolish. If you are not going to be stunning like Angelina Jolie, or really attractive, then it's just not enough to be pretty enough and have a high ****** appeal. You need to be calm, ooze positivity and radiate happiness and good energy. You need to be organized and successful at little things. You need to be calm. For those like me in pain, we gotta work harder.

I hate telling J anything about myself, either positive or negative. When I tell her anything that I am sad about or hurts me, she dismisses it so easily. She also doesn't take criticism well. She immediately points to the fact that I have a lot of flaws too.

C was good to J. An intellectual who wished to impress her, he assisted her with her papers, talked to her professors, visited her at E.

I never meant enough to the men I loved. I thought I was lucky to have experienced love three times, but what does it mean when you make sacrifices repeatedly, where you try to change yourself into the way you think a man wants you to be, to love earnestly and madly- and for it not to be reciprocated at all? J is a very lucky girl. She thinks her life was ruined because G chose me over her for my looks. He left me so easily in the end. If I was prettier and my life was more put together- he'd have stayed.

She easily hurts me with her words, they cut daggers into me. They leave me perplexed. She has an insurmountable amount of power over people.

I have confided in a couple people about her, K and S. I hope it's okay. She drives me crazy. Lo thinks I am a mad-woman. I don't want to be a mad-woman.

I have so much pain and anguish inside me, that it just seeps over. Cup of pain is too much to bear. All the intensity I permeate is because of the pain. I want to become less intense. This is my first week of trying to become less intense.

Step 1: I will not tell anyone about my problems with J.
I will only write about them and talk to R, Ch or a therapist about it.

Step 2: This week, I will work on obtaining a therapist.

I need to apply for medicaid properly with all documentation.

Step 3: Study for Algebra 2!
Test on Wednesday- if you get this tutoring gig, more will open up to you.

Step 4: Wake up early so I can sleep early.

Step 5: Apply for jobs.
I gave up on it because I expected the P.O. job. I did horrible on the interview, so chances for a second interview would be a miracle. Getting a job will help me become happier.

Step 6: Talk to priest at English church for spiritual guidance & for help to control vices and add calmness.

Step 7: Meditate at the gym and stretch for 30 minutes before running.

Step 8: Get a mentor, join groups, attend the right kinds of events, make new friends.

Your whole life and issues cannot center around J. She has moved on, she lives with two roommates. She has Lo & the Asians, two close roommates who are a lot of fun and smart, and she has a good relationship with her dad, and she has D and her co-workers.  She has moved out of her house and moving on with her life. She comes back and accuses me of things and hurts me. I on the other hand, have befriended people who are "stuck" like me at home: Ro who is a struggling alcoholic, Ch who repeatedly -after I pleaded with him to stop- asks me what I am wearing and talks to me about us making out, Ka who is smart but a friend of J's ex C. I was formerly also friends with two Indian guys, one who ended up leaving me because he was in love with me, and another who I called the police on for stalking & harassment. I don't judge any of these guys, instead they talk to me because I am pretty-- but I talk to them because deep down they are also intelligent people who are socially or psychologically struggling like me. Still, the right opportunities only come in the right situations- so it's important that I place myself in them.

Step 9: Keep exercising.
Building up your endurance for running is awesome because it will be good for your lifestyle, but also help you train for future jobs like P.O. & F.B.I. Keep doing 5Ks and then build your way up.

Step 10: Dare to show weakness.**
Allow people to see your weakness so they can help you, without being depressed or whiny. Be yourself. Be fierce. Work hard. No man is an island. Even though my pain makes me want to be completely independant, I need a lot of help. Be humble. A lot of people have helped my family. Show gratitude for what you have.
Denise Nov 2017
To have an affair ... is different than to cheat
cheating is bad but the affair has it beat
My affair, not one that had been planned
It's something i'm ashamed of ...
I musn't ... I cant.
the pushy counselor pressuring me to talk, let it out, she predicts that it'll fell good ...
she has no idea what's about to come out of this messy confession. an affair, coming from under the trunk of this hood.
i'll be the first to testify of it's illusion
opposite of its face value,
misery and loneliness will be the only winner.
Like dying and going to the medium place where utopia does not exist, contingent to utopia's disappearance it only makes sense that hell would delete itself as well?
haven't we longed for the day when there'd be no such thing as hell? Then we'd be free?
Life's twisted humor,
everything has an opposite, an article of faith
being positioned isn't possible without opposition to accompany its lifeless soul,
It preys on the thriving, takes from the present, holds the living hostage as it meets up with  fear and justice, freedom and sadness. birthing the first of many to come,
dicontentment is born and swooned and rocked, fed and held, growing so strong
these thoughts in my mind ...?
you see,
i thought were mine were mine that I could actually be SAFE for ONCE the only place i am safe and free of interference, has been compromised...
discontentment has spread like a wildfire this morning, the remains the evident unsupervised testimony.
and as conciousness demanded an invite inside my mind, I insisted i would clean and make space first, denying my insistence of alone time.
i opened the door, my body quickly analyzed a familiarly foreign emotion,
My mind, the mitochondria, could detect a feeling like this in a crowd of a million waldo's,
This home has felt plenty of drive by emotions all of which fall sorrowfully short,
Relief, one  emotion i've never known well, but good enough to  consider an aquantaince, My higher self, the God dwelling in me
is only awaken by my ego's alarm going off at the maximum volume alotted,
My ego has always disappointed me and always will, a true representation of its impulsiveness no awareness of self control
Demons survive,(yes survive) the lowest level of vibration due to it's subsisting unvarnished truth,
shame and survival are the vibrational levels of those who die,
living and surviving,
"He who is slow to wrath has great understanding,
and unlike my actions, he who is impulsive exalts folly"
God says it himself, a fool will never see the gates
those pearly gates, I pray, will be a presentiment that the abuse i've endured on earth has always been accounted for.  I pray my damaged,not to mention, and terribly fragile sixteen year old learns to stand up for herself.
I'm sorry for the fear I put her through and all the criticism, My God i don't even think it's normal the tight leash i set before my, adolescent at the time
I snap out of what seemed like a continuous paralysis where i cant stop vomiting out my emotions.,
"I feel .... not good amie,"
Of course this is your ego denouncing its reign, you better believe it's stopping it's feet like mad,
I get what you're getting at Doc, but that's not the case for me,I work in recovery so i know how tough it can be to let go of ego's control.
If it isn't you ... tell me more about your sixteen self, what happened to you? why are you sorry to her? How did you hurt her?
the real inquiry to be at is, was that you that hurt her? you an innocent teeny bopper,
I know you don't see yourself as innocent,because you felt all grown up,
or maybe you've felt misunderstood since a child which is it for you nisey?
she notices the sting of silence,  must've been chilly for a princess like her
she probably has never known a cold night, i think and quickly think better of, once i feel the green-eyed monster creeping up, my enemy, the one i resist
so with that said it is the one that pursues, I know it is because I delight in it that it has an extraordinarily special control over my ego
"Or maybe, my sixteen year old snapped I am exhausted of justifying my actions to people who never listened"
I am the party that shame and depression loves to crash late at night, whenever they spot out happy with their
laser beam focus and their macular degeneration"
God acting as an Implantable Miniature Telescope,
as I unleash my arsenal of scriptures, he sits with his mouth pursed, his pursuit to relinquish his pain and hate, written all over him, his body vocalizing all the hate he refused to articulate through linguistic expression as his special form of punishment, wrapped specifically for me
I give the gift a home and take it as an
accolade of the abuse my ego thinks i'd win for staying.
water and oil.
needless to say, these enemies are not holding one another hostage, instead their proverb differing in hindsight,

Their moral compass, primarily, astray from the "good" commandments".,
the same commandments seen as good, although there is no such thing as good or bad, obviously i've had one too many philosophy lessons,
Now like every great philosopher I delight in inquiry,
It used to bother me amie,
surpising to those who know me as goddessnisey, my altar ego that is ingenious in its successful attempts at imitation of my authentic self, minus the flaws, has people fooled,
My inauthentic self, the one that needs to know everything before trusting, the one that misses out on opportunities because she let's impulsiveness govern her actions.
To that little girl, I owe the grandest of apologies, I'm talking like the kind the cops owed rodney,
the one's that took hold of me,  Covered me in shame and loneliness, .
finally got on top and now it's my *****, only thing is
now habituated by their entire nation of people go by the saying birds of a feather flock together, they do not associate, because they are opposite.

Where did this relationship go i ask amie, my,newly discovered personal guru, that i'm paying a **** load to vent to,!?
like the housing of my body I am inconsistent
personification live in the flesh, as absolute irony and it's downer cousin named realistic, tag along to keep this broken law of language a secret,(only writers will get what im saying)
GASP* a breath of fresh air  reveals itself in the highest light promising that if you choose your freedom, and reveal your secret, she will personally bring you freedom and peace.
neighboring discontentment,  I am a survivor of fire at it's wildest,
Like an incurable error the pilot finds in the computer's main frame,
I am that pilot as i begin to confess, called it a day...
beckoning for professional help
but they were not my doing
long time enemies and both close to me,
old-time cliches they love to preach ....
"you'd do best to keep your friends close that way it
distracts your enemies from the intentional tenure you have on them."
weighing my options i decide to speak, silence is death, im smarter than that
I just can't tell you how sorry i am, I told him
not because of what i've done
but because i'd do it again
His mouth was closed,
But he wasn't quiet I could hear him,
The sound of his heart begin to slow,
and for every woman out there, this is when you know...
heart-break is real.
He refused word of mouth but that did not forestall the howling of his heart, an injured wolf
true to character, injured, no forced deal.
His eyes spoke everything that his genetically encrypted ability to stay poker face, failed to exceed at
it took for him to shut his mouth, and just listen as he'd promised

we may need a doctor over here stat,
I know once I've told him that if given a choice ,
Him or her ...
he'd end up disappointed .
he had a way of upholding his secret self hate from childhood,
just like us all, carrying across our baggage, picking up more and expecting to climb mountains.
converting it into tortuous rituals and facades, he wears it across his chiseled countenance so well, you'd think this is who he is.
My problem is , so does he...
I tell HER about him all the time, in hopes that the buddhist teaching will be the key
They say what you hate is a reflection of what you resist in yourself.So i know he'd maintain face, at least until I got on with the confession,because I'd do the same,
that's the honest painful truth... an artifact in this raw and true moment, The highest self in me has decided I am ready
for yet another piece of wisom,
every year,
a new piece watching as if they were refereeing the play offs.
then i realize, this is the play offs I am the main star and I have the ball, the therapist told me herself, it's my turn to talk ..
worry filling the abyss in the center of me, as nervousness takes over my anatomy, triggering negative feedback and certainlymy body breaks down in an immediate cry for ventilation,
Then it dawned on me, I am the negative feedback , an excuse, a sad one.
Catlystic I am it's true, negative feedback, the return of part of an output signal to the input
blaming my conditional love on a lack of attention on your part ... wow excuse me for the foot,
the one i put in the door when you begged for my explanation and my honesty,
putting out the foot has been the biggest aid in our demise, I know how bad i hurt you,
that's the thing about a fleshy soul,
we tell our stories through our eyes.
so worried of what others think of me that I can't focus on
That's what's important to you isn't it? saving face i wanted to yell, but preserved for another time, when yelling could raise the stakes far past what I could gamble.
when we sat to write with a pen in hand,
a private affair began.
I' was afraid,
afraid that this would happen,
fate would force a baby shower that would give birth to the haunting of my heart, my secrets befallen.
As the doctor proceeds to clip the umbilical from my median,
seperating the blood i've shed with the body that is supposed
to house vital fluid but  nowholds senseless emotions.
l a gallery of clips and photos like a drawn out trailer that gave away all the parts you pay for,
  no way to express myself, choosing introversion over conversation... what a bore.
I was afraid this would happen because I know my death is timely,
gambling in these neck of the woods could cost you your family, primely... of course,
some of your loved ones may understand, either way
the other literature sorcerest's don't resist to spill the main course, guess what it's YOU.
This secret could tear me apart and feed me to the sharks,
parallel to satan, its only objective is destruction, insisting i like the dark,
a spell cast upon me of course I hate the dark, this secret can't get out or my friendly facade will melt like a witch dead in a pool of salty raindrops,
slowly burning the witch, as water was foreign,
life without literature is surely foreign to me,
my partner will be sorry if he makes me leave her
tantums, panic attacks and more take her away and a blur will ride her vision and taunt her in her maturity as the blur grows stronger
she will have amnesia
and once my partner finds out that she was feeding us, not aiding in our demise, reconstruction is to come.
like a newborn, failure to trhive, the difference between you two ? I need one to survive
My mind no longer would focus on anything else ..
this affair started between a muse and myself
He understood things without having to say a word
To talk to him all i needed was a pen and a journal.
all faithfulness adjurned.
It was a poetic journey as we entered another element,
a renewal of spirit and soul,
My partner and i would have to call it quits.
A "no trespassing" sign was posted and the door shut
Locked with no key, just us alone
no one to bother me.
It is in this affair that he has given me purpose
on my previous relationship i have closed the curtain
to have an affair is different than to cheat
poetry is the mistress
and has him beat <3
just a random babble
Ayeshah Jan 2014
Your looking for an answer
baby trust me,
he hardly means anything to me now,
with all his hurtful words
and his continuous
putting me down,
what me & him once had doesn't
compare to whats become of us.

You looking for an answer to my past
so I suggest you leave it & him there.

He claimed he wanted friendship,
you were right next to me listening when he said this.

Later as I've told you he tried asking for more,
lied with the so called friendship
but once the truth was out I left him alone.

You know what I'm looking for know too
that I've been dealt a bad hand
and I'm working on myself.

Your pondering  what my next steps may be
and I'm telling you
  I'm taking things day by day,
not rushing
because the last thing
I wish to do is loose our friendship.

You've become a part of me,
a part I refuse to allow anyone else
to come between,
I know you'd fight for me
why I'm explaining
that there is no need,
no reason to doubt because
our bound can only
be broken by
you or me.

I love the way you
make me feel,
how you've made me
secure in more ways
then one & how your
  protective of my children,
I love how you listen to me
and how you deal with
my personality disorder
never making fun of me
or of them,
how  you try to tell me jokes
when I'm crying
how very patient you've been,
while I'm healing & getting over him,
never over-bearing or pushy,
you've yet to say
one bad thing about me
and I know how you feel,
you know too that it's
been a climb up

I wont ever ask
you to wait for me
to be ready or ask you to go either,
so the answer to your question is
you need to do what is best for you.*

Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1990-Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
My friend and companion. I appreciate & Thank you, but I'll not sit by and be the reason your hearts broken or torn, I'm healing and living my life so at this point I'm not looking for a man but if ever I do you will be the 1st to know, I don't know if we'll end up together but least I will always be honest with you and say that the love I do have for you is on another type of level.

Besos & thanks for bringing me back to poetry!
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
EDNA: Hello there, Dan my dear, please take a seat, but before you sit down, just let me put a plastic sheet over the chair.

DAN: Thank you so much, Mrs Sweetlove.

EDNA: Now, Dan, please tell me why you are known far and wide as Dan, Dan, the ***** Old Man. How did you come to acquire such a salubrious soubriquet? Don't spare us any of the more sordid details. My readers are all agog.

DAN: Well, there are three aspects to my dirtiness. Firstly, my sanitary arrangements and personal hygiene. How can I put this delicately? [scratches head in puzzlement and several lice are dislodged, much to Edna's distaste. She squirts them with super-strength LICEOKILL.] To be blunt, Edna, I don't wash much and I very seldom change my clothes. This means I smell quite strongly. And, as you will observe, my skin is quite grimy and unpleasant to behold; the boils and sores are not attractive to many people.

EDNA: Fortunately I am afflicted with a rather bad head cold at the moment, so I can't really whiff you too strongly. However, I can see your skin is disgusting and your clothes are a total disgrace. Tell me, is there any particular reason why you are so careless of your hygienic duties?

DAN: Well, I see it as a vicious circle. If I were to take a bath or a shower, I would only get ***** again quite soon. And anyway, getting dressed again in my old clothes means any olfactory benefit would be negated. Again, if I were to put on some clean clothes, they would only be rendered odorous by my unwashed body. And defecation and urination tend to get your lower parts ***** two or three times a day anyway, even if you wipe thoroughly which I don't. So what's the point, unless you want to waste all your life on synchronising cleansing activities? Also, between you and me, I quite enjoy the stench of my own unclean body. And it has several benefits: I always get a row of seats to myself at the cinema and I normally have no problem with queues when I go shopping: people tend to give way to me as a mark of respect.

EDNA: And the second aspect of your dirtiness?

DAN: May I talk to you freely about ***, Mrs Sweetlove?

EDNA: Oh yes, be frank! [nods eagerly] Be frank!

DAN: Well, let's put it like this: I am not very particular when it comes to ***. I can honestly say I have never ever turned down a ****** approach of any sort. I am, of course, bisexual and when I feel like a bit of impersonal *******, I nip down to the public lavatory in the park and have some there. What I normally do is wait by the ****** and whip out my grimy, stinking **** and flash it whenever someone comes in. I don't care who it is. What does it matter? Most people run away in horror, a few attack me and shove my face down a pan, but one or two let me **** them.

EDNA: What sort of people would that be, dear?

DAN: Usually tramps, the short-sighted, people with no sense of smell, degenerates, psychos, masochists, you know. A reasonably varied selection. Buggers can't be choosers. Who cares anyway? I've been arrested by the cops a few times, but they don't like to put me in their nice clean police car, so they usually let me go with a bit of a thumping. Which I quite like anyway, although it's cost me several teeth [shows hideous maw of rotting stumps].

EDNA: And how about when you feel like a little bit of the old hetero rumpy-pumpy action, Dan, my love?

DAN: To be honest, I don't get much rumpy-pumpy, even though that's probably what I'm most famous for. Speaking candidly, not many women fancy anyone as filthy as I am, even lady tramps have to draw the line somewhere. So I tend to have to be a bit pushy when I feel like a bit of female company. What I usually do is lurk around girls' schools, ladies' gyms, ballet dancing classes, hockey grounds, netball pitches, the park where the young mums push their babies' buggies, anywhere really where you get women and girls in reasonable numbers. When I see someone I fancy, which is anything female between sixteen and the grave, I just drop my pants and show them what I've got down there. They scream a bit but I can usually get a quick one off the wrist before they've run too far. I've been arrested a few times for that too, but it's a hazard of the game of love, I feel.

EDNA: [gulps excitedly] I think you mentioned three reasons why you are known as a ***** Old Man par excellence......

DAN: Yes, well the third one is a bit more personal. You see, I have a very sensitive stomach and I often get very bad indigestion, which means I **** and burp a lot. And I frequently ***** too, as you can see from the state of my trousers - this is probably a reflection of the fact that my kitchen is crawling with rodents and insects large and small. And did I mention this last bit? I really like eating my own snot in public [voids nostrils onto grimy paw and gobbles product thereof].

EDNA: I'd like to thank you, Dan, for sharing your opinions, emotions and ambitions with me and my readers here today [switches off tape recorder]. You truly are an unusually repellent *******. Get out of my lovely house.

Jack Turner Aug 2010
bzzz bzzz goes the cell phone
it reads
My reply

Shush, we're not talking
about you. Movie n wine
at home later? Maybe

               Mmm ill call u love. Im
               tired and cant be out late.
               I have work 8am to 7pm :\
wow, ain't that lame
to which I say

:-\ ok

a few minutes later on
and I text again

I love you. Im sorry for
being sulky. I just miss
you and really just want
to see you.

there it goes again
               I miss you too i love you
               so effing much

:-( only 2 days but its felt
like an eternity

and then poetry
gets the better of me

My love. You leave me an
empty vessel when you
are away. A ship without
sails. The sun without a

Her reply comes
               Hunny :)
followed up quick
               Im going to make this an
               early night
Ouch that hurts
Caught me off guard
Do I be sad?
Or do I be smooth?

I cant even talk you into a
quick yogurt session? Ill
drive. Just there and back.

my phone rattles back
               Im grumpy tired and
               waking up early lovebaby
shoot quick

And I can put you to bed
w a smile on your face :)

               Be a little more specific
oh god
and here comes the barage

A back rub, a massage. A
head rub, a hug. A kiss, a
squeeze. Lets just say
that this lil finger went to
And as Ive said, I just
want to see my baby. So I
apologize if Im being
pushy. Ive missed you
more that ever this last

               Hehe lovebaby *** youre

Adorable enough to get
you to agree to a quick
trip to yogurt or
something? Pretty please
w a cherry on top?

               Youre.sweet and tempting
               like.a cherry :) lovebaby
               lets watch the snow fall
               one day

Well then have a lil taste
of the cherry. It promises
to have you home by
11:45 :-)

               Gah golly u make this
And here it goes
full blown
oh god
oh no

Say yes and it wont be
hard. Say yes and know
you made me the
happiest boy ever. Say
yes and know you get to see
your love. Say yes and
know that my eyes will
twinkle like your own
personal stars tonite. I
miss you :-(

               Jack. I love you
One more desperation push

I love you too baby.
What have you got to
lose? And Im sorry Im
hassling you. I really
really miss you.

and then the minutes drag on
a few and then ten
maybe a few more and

Im sorry, Ill stop. I hope
you have a good nite.
Sleep well love. I miss

and then
there it is
               I love you

I love you too baby. Im
sorry for being crazy.

and time stretches on
the beats grow long
and in reply*
               Ill call u whn im home
the beginnings of the ...
Martin Narrod Mar 2016
The saddest day, it was yesterday.
Smoky sullen pushy congested lightless sky day.
Wrecked and weathered, gluey, obtuse and penned with
Melancholy and wanton desire. Wanting on and selling off

The Vampires and wretched thieves hibernating back in coach,
Seated in peacock-scoundrel dress. There's was the rudimentary
Yet pertinent foulness of childlike hatred, but they wore it under
Coarsely fitting suits to cover their hefty bags of ginormous fat.

Fatty ***** to scrutinize. Fatty ***** to wallow in the throes of
Dark fatty dementia.
Purses of alabaster filled with hemoglobin. Obfuscating zilch.
Scurvy on the arms, reptiles in their ears, and a million miles of
Stenchy, noisome, in glut. Wallowing, heavy and anti-professional.

Loff-less, un-catchy, unkempt, and in a clamor.
Boarish and obtrusive.
Gushy of anguish and the uncomfortable hide of rhino
Replaced for the swill excrement vetted porcine hocks of a
Kaleidoscope rich, aftermarket slug-pact for the bowels of
This century's egoes. Heavy on the cheeses, Cheetos, and Pathos.

In the hutch, a gaily brimming sunswept valley chimes
With the fruitful gaiety around the crowned Pantone TX1333 and Sienna heads that does keep. Homes are heavier, heaving the shrills.
Archaic muted cries of childhood, upsetted tummies serving at the Sighs of Lucifer. There are scoundrels here and in the underwear and in The water and under the water.

Frogs moo, chimney's weep, most other's Mother's have done true **** Jobs keeping their reared up to par with the others to avoid being Other'd. And our own language isn't being kept. It's undoing itself atop The bridges of mouths and the ridges of jawlines, and they have faded Swiftly, and no surrogate or custodial colloquialism has lived up to the Shadows and forethought of our greatest grandparents. And what has Your Jesus brought you except uncertainty, foul-play, and foul players And despondent and boarish chicas.

So now there you have this: brevity.
Another soft-tipped dactylic hand for undertaking.
By the end of days there will be the licking of butts,
Poor movies with Salma Hayek, and the lot of children's books
No children, not even these triplets will remember their fine names:

Tee, Bee, and Cee.
Crocus and sourdough lilies
Brimming over the nostril opera's of
These adopted gospels.
Only the ramparts of our literary apartheid and totally ******
Sexualness in kids and dults of all ages.
Grade A slovenly scholars
In agreement that we're ******* over tomorrow.
A Thomas Hawkins Apr 2010
Hey there, are you new here?
So how come we never met?
Me, I'm always late for work
No matter which alarm I set

So tell me whats your name?
I'm Heloise, sorry, you go first.
After Heloise the writer,
hey you were close, could have been worse.

I'm soaked I wasn't thinking,
we were gonna get some rain.
And in the rush to get the bus,
I dropped my fare right down the drain.

You look like you walked miles.
You must be soaked through to the skin.
I am a waitress at Dukes Diner.
You should try us, come on in.

So how come I haven't seen you,
Are we talking the same place?
Cos I'm sure I would remember,
such a handsome face.

Say what time is it you come in?
Because I get a break at two.
I could come and join you in the park,
if thats ok with you?

How about tomorrow?
Are sure that its ok?
I dont want to be too pushy,
If its not ok just say.

Ok so now I'm blushing.
Are you sure that you dont mind?
You are? I know, I'm rushing,
But it works the best I find.
catch the other side of the conversation in What he said
Lila Valentine Jan 2015
It's a little funny how you know how I feel
But you keep hurting me anyway
Maybe I'm just too pushy, too real
And you need me to get away.

But honestly, whenever she's with you
It always happens right in front of me
It makes me want to vanish into the floor, fall through
And get rid of this burden, and for once be free.

I know you've been friends for a while
And now this year I just suddenly appeared
But whenever you look at me I smile
Sometimes fake but mostly real, like I feared.

But once I thought that maybe you liked me
I've been this wrong before
I made the same mistake once and he
Hurt me and I would never love again, I swore.

I wouldn't make the same mistake
But I just keep doing this, I don't know why
All I do is cause myself more heartbreak
So can't you just get out of my mind's eye?

I'm just hurting myself more
But wait, you don't care
I forgot, I'm too much of a bore
I'll leave you alone, I swear.
This is about the same person who I wrote "Scarf" about.....I mean, I like him, but I don't, and it's just agh I hate emotions. hate me and think I'm a fool,
A lost, simpleminded forgettable tool,
Someone who knows not what life is about,
You stand right in front of me beginning to shout.

The first, few words,  I heard so closely I say,
But after those words all your others went away,
I looked and looked in your eyes full of hate,
I'll take in a movie, is it still too late?

You stamp your feet like a locomotive in motion,
I'm not listening now with your horrible notions,
I feel a laugh swelling deep inside of my mind,
Your nasty and pushy and mostly not kind.

I glad for the earplugs pushed deep in my ears,
Hoping you won't notice them, this is my fear,
And as you get redder and your blood now is hot,
I'm glad that your leaving, your company not. the door slams and silence fills the air,
I wonder why you really thought I would care,
But how it now shows you that love sometimes sours,
No movie tonight with the now late, late hours.
Amanda Mary Rose Feb 2014
Oh what a shock, he changed his mind.

In a conversation dripping with sarcasm and oozing distain, I begin to tell my coworker about my big news. I begin with the transition with *remember that guy I used to talk about
. For months now we had been hashing this situation out at work, the unanswered text messages, the constant apologies, the sudden disappearance of what was seemingly the perfect guy. Everyone had heard the story, it just glided off my tongue whenever the conversation came to relationships, which at 22 is the topic of choice. By now everyone is either so stable or in some varying level of turmoil which makes my story not all that unique. It’s a classic girl gets drunk in costume, falls for a tall guy who listens to records, then spirals into self-doubt and bouts of frustration.

So how did this happen, the coworker asks with a laugh as we drive back. He knows the story up until this point and cannot wait to hear how I managed to get to this level. It started just as it had begun, a full circle of drunkenness. I had texted him after an open bar, and to this day I don't really know what I was expecting to come of it. After a casual opening conversation, the first that we’ve had in many months, not counting our stream of snapchats, I tell him we should hang out soon. When I saw that he was pretty drunk.ish. drunkish, I knew that we could have the first real conversation in a long time. We discuss his unavailable nature casually and he identifies as not being worth all the fuss.

Of course he is not worth all the fuss, I had been telling myself that since the beginning. Of course I had been fussing all the while but at least I was aware that it was not necessary. This is where all those craft beers stepped in and I agreed with him. Yep I told a guy that he wasn’t worth effort. To make it even clarified that due to a lack of variety, he was just the best out of many bad possibilities.

I deserved to see him reply with a single, punched in the ball style, ouch. Being the strong independent black woman I pretend to be I once again hit him with a one-two punch of truth. Oh please, as I electronically roll my eyes, you know I am interested in you. I tell him that he confuses me and that we could figure things out. I hear the classic line that I have now heard from many more guys than I am happy to admit, blame it on my need to hunt down every damaged travel ****** in the western New York area: I’m going to be nowhere near here in a few months.

They never are, this one is bicoastal but the last few are across an ocean, across the world, a verbal cultural and emotional divide away. To follow up he hits me with possibly the worst thing you can say to a girl, in my very extensive history of turn downs at least: I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings.

*****, please. You are talking to a psych major here, I know more about feelings that your barefoot running lack of *** could even imagine. Saying that would require that I have feelings in the first place is just the tip of the ******* iceberg. I am on lock with being in charge of my emotions. I am a grown *** woman who knows my **** and has healthy *** cognitions most of the time leading to stable *** feelings. Don't get me wrong I feel but no vegetarian is going to reduce me to a puddle of disgusting feelings.

So what are you looking for? The same thing I was looking for four months ago, a friend, a fellow explorer, maybe some physical contact, someone to confide in, worry about, cook for. Nothing big, nothing serious, nothing forever. ohh

Sorry bud, ohh is just not going to cut it here. Now’s the time to check back in with what he wants. As a recap, originally we had a conversation, same topic different tone. In that moment he wanted a friend, a fellow explorer, maybe some physical contact, someone to confide in, worry about, cook for. Nothing big, nothing serious, nothing forever.

Oh what a shock, he changed his mind.

This time his conscience was taking over, he couldn't hook up with me because its not in his nature, because it wouldn't form something real, because that's his guiding force. It’s certainly tempting, it would be lovely. He took my a good time in the present, no strings attached * as a ******* which wasn’t its intent but finally I was relieved.

The purpose of this story is not for pity or out of unbridled rage even though I used a few swears. The conversation goes on to target some insecurities, to open up about this being a pattern, and ultimately to wish him the very best.

And, I do, honestly and entirely wish him the very best. Although he had disappeared I know that he didn't do it with malice and that he has a really kind soul. Once again it didn't work out but this case was different.

We had 2:30 AM closure of the best nature, and I feel free and so much happier for the time I spent hung up on him, which is not something I can say for all those previous cases. I really enjoyed our sparse conversations but even more than that, this was the first time I came out of my shell and got pushy about what I wanted. I did all the work and had nothing to lose and for that I do not have a single regret, and I feel like the sky is the limit. No more texting rules or hurting other people feelings in the Game just for the sake of winning.

thank you, you too :)

His response was perfect, and I promptly removed him from my social media. After all, I am human.

*NSYNC’s best hit

— The End —