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"rationalities" poems
is it love or the parasite ? my pilot bulk                       aims for relief        it pursues this via                             your romantic correction in public arena                   a library stair                     (i never prior encountered you) one step as foreigner         the approach and upon a swift internal pendulum i make witless incisions hurried mended sentences directed stuns invasive i demand the compromise                   of your company hastily push at boundaries and you're not so accommodating                                                  but on a further occasion same building we exchange a battering of conversation that    then        matures            into barter-like use of language despite my harassments   a civil cultivation is unearthed tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen loosen my demanding appearance disregard my dignity      a skin suit about the ankles you're open in a vein of similarity    you flesh out your own controls we've progressed quickly there's an aped conduct                  and flashing attitudes this time we share table space a nearby café we have become quite unmanned     repeated meet ups upon humours we adjust small habits     and shake on perceptions where we overlap it becomes    more an overlay of rationalities         than resented promises fast time passes and i move into your living space                                   i pick a wildflower                                                                    and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table we agree on its colour                                               we agree on a book to make our bible material we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share the clothes i am to wear i switch to your diet and you cease taking medications we sleep on your lawn like children and bring down the night sky for comfort during the day we wear our sleep               like a lubrication for our chores and go about our productivity               in genuine partnership yet i feel we're just out of reach             of some dark harm we are an excellent sample pair it is all vital we grow stronger the more we quiz it recycling our ********** refine our agreements await further impulses and come closer to plug so.. do we please love       or simply indulge a parasite ?
0
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
a cultivation
is it love or the parasite ? my pilot bulk                       aims for relief        it pursues this via                             your romantic correction in public arena                   a library stair                     (i never prior encountered you) one step as foreigner         the approach and upon a swift internal pendulum i make witless incisions hurried mended sentences directed stuns invasive i demand the compromise                   of your company hastily push at boundaries and you're not so accommodating                                                  but on a further occasion same building we exchange a battering of conversation that    then        matures            into barter-like use of language despite my harassments   a civil cultivation is unearthed tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen loosen my demanding appearance disregard my dignity      a skin suit about the ankles you're open in a vein of similarity    you flesh out your own controls we've progressed quickly there's an aped conduct                  and flashing attitudes this time we share table space a nearby café we have become quite unmanned     repeated meet ups upon humours we adjust small habits     and shake on perceptions where we overlap it becomes    more an overlay of rationalities         than resented promises fast time passes and i move into your living space                                   i pick a wildflower                                                                    and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table we agree on its colour                                               we agree on a book to make our bible material we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share the clothes i am to wear i switch to your diet and you cease taking medications we sleep on your lawn like children and bring down the night sky for comfort during the day we wear our sleep               like a lubrication for our chores and go about our productivity               in genuine partnership yet i feel we're just out of reach             of some dark harm we are an excellent sample pair it is all vital we grow stronger the more we quiz it recycling our ********** refine our agreements await further impulses and come closer to plug so.. do we please love       or simply indulge a parasite ?
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77
The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin Sing with me everybody Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution We are clever, all in our White uniforms We march to the left left left with our two left feet We know our brains have left us but we go left left Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba. Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba Sing.........
0
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
To The Left...Quick March.....
The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin Sing with me everybody Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution We are clever, all in our White uniforms We march to the left left left with our two left feet We know our brains have left us but we go left left Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba. Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba Sing.........
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32
I am a creature of violence. My fists are tired of fighting the deluge of rationalities and my eyes have stared daggers too sharp for me to feel the scars. But the blood flows ever on, and it rages and it burns and it screams. I cannot let my anger paint my life in red and in wrath, and I cannot let my wrongs be the reason I feel I am right. So I promise, I will not let the fire burn through me anymore. I had to lay down my arms one day.
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Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
temper, temper.
*Solitary, lie-back moments; of being in the coziest of places surrounded by the most mundane yet magical. Melancholy has a way of tinging itself with those little nuances of memory, and those little nuances of memory tinge themselves with shades of bittersweet and sad recollection over time. Silent reckonings, simplistically suppressing thoughts - all huge contradictions to the slow, natural motion of letting the waves wash over you. Is this emotional maturity? Is this a step forward? Life is always full of too many intricacies to tell for sure. The familiar scents of tearstains and revulsion being punctuated by the occasional flicker of light ahead; pain and perseverance, hope and the promise of heaven. We are so full of contradictions - concrete, grounded beings yet with so many abstractions and complexities in our heads. A constant grapple, a relentless cycle. Coming back to places of washed up memories has this effect on you; but you pull through, you plough through quicksands, you pick up the small rationalities that have gone astray, and you move forward like you’ve always been doing before. It’s the only thing we know how to do. Walk on our own, on our own two feet. And pray that whatever knocks us down, will never be enough to sink us.*
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Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
The Solitary Mystery
There are so many things I wish I could say So many words left unknown. But whenever you get close I push you away. To you I am just skin and bones. I wish I could talk. Wish I could let go of these insecurities. Be rid of this fear. But I can’t. But I won’t Please know that it’s nothing against you. You are innocent in all of this. It’s me. I’m scared. Scared to hurt you. To let you hurt me. I know in my mind the fear is unreasonable. But my heart, it just won’t listen. I am no scientist. Never have I been one for rationalities. Instead, I stick to art. To raw instinct. Maybe it will just take a little time. Or maybe it will take a little more. But even so, There are so many things I wish I could say. So many words left unknown.
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Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
Unknown
Oh prairies of paradise, why do you dwindle in our grasp? Do you not want to share in our expansion of democratic duty? What would you consider the proper path, my plants scathed in acidic dew. Do you feel the life leave the soil? When your roots are outstretched for a water bed no longer located under you, will you weep your petals knowing what is to come? I weep for you prairies. When smoke stacks stick from our lips do you choke on the phlem expelled from our lungs, tempting your wilted parts? (There is water in there, just break it down with your leaves and find the pieces you need.) How rational do you view these rationalities? Oh prairie please remember we care for your beauty, but care not how it will stay. (How long will you wait?) You have fought mother nature, her winds and worst droughts, but not knowing father time, can you comprehend the offspring that is depleeting and cheating you? Will you weep when the bugs stop scratching your stems? I weep as the bees leave and the beetles begin to belch from their green guts after ingesting your roots... for I know what is to come. I weep for you prairies. When blossoms are only pictures on walls, you will unfortunately, be too soon forgotten. I do not wish to deliver morose messages, only to express to the winds in my ears that I too, howl, and push through (sometimes a destructive path, ) forever challenging and constantly changing. Priairies, I too will one day wilt, my memory too soon forgotten, My prairies, I weep for you tonight.
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Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Prairies of Paradise
Oh prairies of paradise, why do you dwindle in our grasp? Do you not want to share in our expansion of democratic duty? What would you consider the proper path, my plants scathed in acidic dew. Do you feel the life leave the soil? When your roots are outstretched for a water bed no longer located under you, will you weep your petals knowing what is to come? I weep for you prairies. When smoke stacks stick from our lips do you choke on the phlem expelled from our lungs, tempting your wilted parts? (There is water in there, just break it down with your leaves and find the pieces you need.) How rational do you view these rationalities? Oh prairie please remember we care for your beauty, but care not how it will stay. (How long will you wait?) You have fought mother nature, her winds and worst droughts, but not knowing father time, can you comprehend the offspring that is depleeting and cheating you? Will you weep when the bugs stop scratching your stems? I weep as the bees leave and the beetles begin to belch from their green guts after ingesting your roots... for I know what is to come. I weep for you prairies. When blossoms are only pictures on walls, you will unfortunately, be too soon forgotten. I do not wish to deliver morose messages, only to express to the winds in my ears that I too, howl, and push through (sometimes a destructive path, ) forever challenging and constantly changing. Priairies, I too will one day wilt, my memory too soon forgotten, My prairies, I weep for you tonight.
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38
See the world distinctly? Pearls? A kaleidoscope of memories? Or lucidly look differently? A beggar, or free from the constraints of Western reality? New eyes take in all perspectives: perceptions, Compelling new experiences: horizons. Releasing shame; distorted distractions. Embracing imperfections, peccadillos, Layers of realities, Depths, and Rationalities. Diversely. Maturely.
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Dec 6, 2023
Dec 6, 2023 at 12:45 AM UTC
New 👀
Inclination is a contagion          that affects the cerebral cortex. Infecting other organs in a complex                                 method of defilement. Once one has succumb to the influence              of this pathogen, the following                                  is woeful in its method 1. Heart rates do palpitate to an extreme beat 2. Part of mind isn't playing on the same spreadsheet. 3. All reactions of thought & heart aren't as discrete. 4. AWOL are the rationalities within every heartbeat. But still those who fall foul of this moment,                            do not wish for a cure even though out of ten three prove semi-fatal for a time to these organs.             They still live,                        but singular,                              alone,                                 desolate                 o­f what made them in pain. But they will once again look for one who is a carrier,                         to be once again infected by this moment..                          I must confess that I have fell foul,                and my clock ticks with not one                       but another beat.. Infection isn't as bad as I once believed.                 I just hope that I contaminate her                 life with more than she infected me.
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Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 12:41 PM UTC
There Is No Antidote
Inclination is a contagion          that affects the cerebral cortex. Infecting other organs in a complex                                 method of defilement. Once one has succumb to the influence              of this pathogen, the following                                  is woeful in its method 1. Heart rates do palpitate to an extreme beat 2. Part of mind isn't playing on the same spreadsheet. 3. All reactions of thought & heart aren't as discrete. 4. AWOL are the rationalities within every heartbeat. But still those who fall foul of this moment,                            do not wish for a cure even though out of ten three prove semi-fatal for a time to these organs.             They still live,                        but singular,                              alone,                                 desolate                 o­f what made them in pain. But they will once again look for one who is a carrier,                         to be once again infected by this moment..                          I must confess that I have fell foul,                and my clock ticks with not one                       but another beat.. Infection isn't as bad as I once believed.                 I just hope that I contaminate her                 life with more than she infected me.
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27
Within The recesses of my Soul Three words I have To utter In these bones of misery Do all things pass away? Just know Within my core A fire burns brightly For you Though I know not The spaces between Your lips That drip myrhh and honeysuckle These rationalities of my dreams This day, will soon discover The smooth outline of your body On this sheet of paper. Lo, and behold I write for you These resins Cause heartache Because you are not here with me My Queen, My Life, My Love Together, as One, Forever
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
The Knight
TO WHOM IT MAY COCERN Run Run Run, I seek you hide You shriek the sight of you, one reckless move I find you, dragging you in my snuggle, Like a swirling wind Tosses fallen grass, you know no guilty or remorse, believes Conscience, rules and law, domain in pain and fear, The exquisite music of life and death, heart of a rock They call me the cremator. Known By the name prince of darkness Run Run Run, I seek you hide You shriek the sight of you, one reckless move I find you, giving you all the rationalities for your devotion, Tailing and nailing every last of your kind unto my dish, Tossing you to the realm of doom and gloom though My intent to you has never been ideationally
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
to whom it may concern
I can't concentrate when I'm with you You ****** my attention away You hide my inhibitions Immediately and greedily But you're not culpable I lose all rationalities loving you I lose all sense of self loving you
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
21
Very, very often people compare mental illness to a monster. Big, parasitic, and life-stealing. I wouldn't not use this comparison myself. Because, anxiety... Its teeth are cracking my bones, peeling my skin, closing my eyes to the rationalities of this beautiful, beautiful world. I am not, me.   My thoughts are destructive hurricanes to my own mind. They dig deeper each time, into tiny spaces of my brain, my soul, and heart. It's a dark reality, with supposed reasoning... but no, it's a parasite, growing inside my head. I try to think I am good, but all it says is 'you are bad'. I try to think, they like me, but '*I am unlikable, unlovable,*' in the face of this Earth. How can you greet a thing that lives with you everyday, let alone, how can you say goodbye to it.
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Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
Poem x