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"reactions" poems
Bound by flesh; we are, oblivious to our minds, chemical reactions. Enamored with desire, our bodies collide, driven by our actions. Engrossed by lust; thirsty. The primal rush; the absolute of attraction Prisoners of our passions. animal instincts of human nature; our habits we fashion.
0
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
Entrapment
Science says that there's a mathematical equation that explains everything in life. But I say that not even physics bears an explanation for...the guidelines of attraction. Our primal reactions are multiplied in...the highlights of passion. These laws of love that linger like a lanterns lost illumination... Like the campfire light on a clear night, leaves coals of culmination. Sweat beads lead to bare threads and bare bodies. And oh my, how bare bodies lead to imaginations running wild. Cold winds inspire warm kisses and close skin. Sincere actions aren't sins. Bodies wound in union, formed by light and tightly bound. Together, these twisted vines penetrate the hardest ground... Together, harmonic souls produce passionate sounds. Yet, still somehow, love gets lost more than love gets found. This equation is unending...like numbers off lips that kiss the air. Body language spoken...Our physical bonds parallel eternity and pi squared. And you know that every moment that we share is nothing short of...molecular love for the masses... Now held captive by gravity and magnetism... See, the last full moon marked retrograde...and if the moon affects the tide of the ocean...and our bodies are roughly 75% water...can we assume that this is the only body powerful enough to keep ours apart? This gravity... This pull... It's pulling me apart...so let me pull you closer, stop pushing me away! Hold on tight, dont let these planets drift away into a dark rift of decay. Let your love lap upon this solid stone like a river riffles smooth sandbars into hills of higher ground. Because baby, without your water on my beach... I'm nothing but a desert, dry and deserted.
0
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 10:53 PM UTC
Physical physics
Science says that there's a mathematical equation that explains everything in life. But I say that not even physics bears an explanation for...the guidelines of attraction. Our primal reactions are multiplied in...the highlights of passion. These laws of love that linger like a lanterns lost illumination... Like the campfire light on a clear night, leaves coals of culmination. Sweat beads lead to bare threads and bare bodies. And oh my, how bare bodies lead to imaginations running wild. Cold winds inspire warm kisses and close skin. Sincere actions aren't sins. Bodies wound in union, formed by light and tightly bound. Together, these twisted vines penetrate the hardest ground... Together, harmonic souls produce passionate sounds. Yet, still somehow, love gets lost more than love gets found. This equation is unending...like numbers off lips that kiss the air. Body language spoken...Our physical bonds parallel eternity and pi squared. And you know that every moment that we share is nothing short of...molecular love for the masses... Now held captive by gravity and magnetism... See, the last full moon marked retrograde...and if the moon affects the tide of the ocean...and our bodies are roughly 75% water...can we assume that this is the only body powerful enough to keep ours apart? This gravity... This pull... It's pulling me apart...so let me pull you closer, stop pushing me away! Hold on tight, dont let these planets drift away into a dark rift of decay. Let your love lap upon this solid stone like a river riffles smooth sandbars into hills of higher ground. Because baby, without your water on my beach... I'm nothing but a desert, dry and deserted.
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25
He is in love with questions And the lilting world of words, With the fabric of philosophy And the taste of fresh ideas. He is in love with the smell of green And the shifting sands of dreams, With the hunt for profound moments And the hunger-lust for purpose. He is in love with his books And the zodiacs cross the planet, With patterns of chain reactions And the way we cog and gear. He is in love with pools of stardust And fanciful notions of theory, With darkness, deep and coveted And the fabric it is made from. He is in love with one who left And the poisoned past he bathes in, With being perpetually lonesome And floating twixt life’s sabulous banks. He is in love with memories, and the universe, And nobody else. With my choking heart, I’m grasping at dust, And I am in love with him.
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Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
He Is In Love
*He’s no musician. He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings. Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos, Rhyming every lyric, Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony. He’s no seamster. Yet he cuts and he traces, plain words and printed phrases; Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully, into a lovely concrete poetry. He’s no painter. He just has a palette of pigmented letters, splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass. A blast of contained evocative memories, Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery. He’s no storyteller. Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales- One, of the moon and its lover sea. Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s, while kissing behind the sprawling mountains. Though the dawn will come, they do not fear. For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage, There’ll the lovers be once again reunited. He's no poet. Yet he writes-- stanzas and verses. And oh! it revives, every strand of emotion, every sense of intuition, Inside me. A lyrical perception, Sheer perfection, Arousing perpetual reactions, From me.*
0
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
He's no Poet
Like flipped coin midair Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle Two ends of a spectrum, Möbius strip In a room together, Maxwell’s demon, revolving door Cancer and chemo Like life and death Only one can be The next is inevitable Like an election Only one figurehead may speak for a governing body Like the seasons Change is expected Like a cat left to its own devices Guaranteed to scare itself after a given time Man tries to conquer for comforts sake Mercurial reactions Like elements under catalyst Electron orbitals Exchange positive core Theory of relativity A choice of determining Accuracy of position or velocity Hermes, deity of mine Masculine and feminine Ruler of I Relieve the war of the immortal twins Gemini Battling my heart and mind
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Gemini
A catalyst is a chemical that speeds up reactions. At least that’s what I learned in chemistry class. Catalysts sometimes are the major factors in a reactions and without them, The reaction could never happen. Catalyst can be lab chemicals, alcohol, drugs, coffee even, or a person. While lounging around one afternoon you were talking physics And I turned it on your head and spoke of chemistry, Knowing full well that I was speaking of our personal chemistries. You were right, the physics of a relationship gives us the laws, But CHEMISTRY can predict the outcome. If you do the math and follow the directions, you can determine the product without even doing the experiment. Unless the reaction you are creating has never been attempted before by the scientists preforming the experiment. They can flip through the books, Read the essays, Study the theorems, Even attempt the calculations, But if they don’t do the actual experiment, They will never find their outcome. Some things need a push, A catalyst, For them to form a bond, React, And combine into a stable combination. Hypotheses must be TESTED, ACCEPTED, and RATIFIED Before becoming a law. No matter how based in logic your hypothesis might be, You need the universe and its fundamental laws to back it up. There are still surprises left in the universe. Maybe you and I can be one of them.
0
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Catalyst for Change
What if I had fallen to my knees On the cold parking lot concrete Tears washing over my cheeks And cries no one should ever have to hear Bellowing out from beneath my ribs Screaming at the sky Looking up at your face Forcing you (and everyone else) To see me in this godforsaken state Of absolute chaos Heartbreak In it's rawest form What if I had begged you to stay? What if I'd told you I can't do this without you? What if I'd told you how much I needed you What if I did anything other than fighting back the tears Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Mostly for the crowd of people gathering Saying their goodbyes Anxiously looking around to bear witness to everyone else's reactions And I didn't want to be that girl That girl who falls to the ground Kicking and screaming and crying and begging But what if I was? What if I was any girl other than the one I pretended to be that day The one that held her tongue and kept her mouth shut because she knew the second she opened it to speak she would sob The one that wrapped her arms around you for the last time, and the one that let go The one that couldn't bear to watch you walk away So she kissed you goodbye Got back in the car And drove home What if i wasn't that girl who didnt allow herself to completely fall apart until she was alone in the privacy of her own home? What if instead I'd made a scene, Doing what everything inside me so desperately wanted to Grabbing hold of your hand and refusing to let go Losing the facade of confidence The charade of strength But I'm not that girl And I never will be So each and every time you leave I kiss you goodbye I unclench my fists and retract my anchors I untether my heart from it's human home And I put on a brave face Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Or maybe For that girl.
0
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
That girl
What if I had fallen to my knees On the cold parking lot concrete Tears washing over my cheeks And cries no one should ever have to hear Bellowing out from beneath my ribs Screaming at the sky Looking up at your face Forcing you (and everyone else) To see me in this godforsaken state Of absolute chaos Heartbreak In it's rawest form What if I had begged you to stay? What if I'd told you I can't do this without you? What if I'd told you how much I needed you What if I did anything other than fighting back the tears Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Mostly for the crowd of people gathering Saying their goodbyes Anxiously looking around to bear witness to everyone else's reactions And I didn't want to be that girl That girl who falls to the ground Kicking and screaming and crying and begging But what if I was? What if I was any girl other than the one I pretended to be that day The one that held her tongue and kept her mouth shut because she knew the second she opened it to speak she would sob The one that wrapped her arms around you for the last time, and the one that let go The one that couldn't bear to watch you walk away So she kissed you goodbye Got back in the car And drove home What if i wasn't that girl who didnt allow herself to completely fall apart until she was alone in the privacy of her own home? What if instead I'd made a scene, Doing what everything inside me so desperately wanted to Grabbing hold of your hand and refusing to let go Losing the facade of confidence The charade of strength But I'm not that girl And I never will be So each and every time you leave I kiss you goodbye I unclench my fists and retract my anchors I untether my heart from it's human home And I put on a brave face Maybe for myself, maybe for you, Or maybe For that girl.
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50
I need a distraction to delay my reactions. If I could explain it to you in fractions, I would. Addition. Subtraction. We're just an equation that couldn't happen. I was less than You were greater than I ever could be You're in a different division. But I just multiply the visions. A mathematician couldn't solve me.
0
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Bad math.
It's 3:09am I'm im the library Desperately trying to write a research paper: 'LGBT Familes' How fitting. Caffeine courses through my veins Coffee overloads my bladder Bathroom. I hate bathrooms. When you have no gender The simple act of relieving yourself becomes a chore The heavy weight of that key decision Chokes your lungs as you stand outside the doors Two doors. Men. Women. Not me. The choice becomes simplified: While I sometimes pass as a man I often do not. I can choose the men's bathroom The consequence of which could end in physical violence The same hate I explain through my essay. The same fear that plagues my community. The women's restroom is also an option The consequences likely less dire than the former: Heavy side eye and the potential of yelling. A much safer choice. Obviously. Per usual, I walk into the women's room. I take three strides inside. Then I stop. I've never used the men's room. My fear of violent reactions has always won. Yet at a time like this How likely is it that someone is inside the men's room? Now is my chance to face my fears. Now I have a safe chance at peeing in peace. In a bathroom potentially more suiting Of my gender identity So I turn around. Let the door slam behind me. Half a step into the men's room The smell of rancid ***** hits my senses Toilet paper liters the stalls I have missed absolutely nothing in my years in the women's room Women have nicer facilities A significantly more advanced hand dryer Cleanliness Air freshener Men do not have these luxuries Now I question, Do men not take as good of care of their bathrooms as women do? Do the workers intentionally prioritize women's sanitation? What causes this undeniable divide? Is the messiness of the men's room a result of their conscious decisions? Or simply a response to societal expectation? Regardless, I think I'll stick to the women's room While I add bathrooms to my compilation Of more discrete gender inequality
0
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC
My First Time Using the Men's Bathroom
It's 3:09am I'm im the library Desperately trying to write a research paper: 'LGBT Familes' How fitting. Caffeine courses through my veins Coffee overloads my bladder Bathroom. I hate bathrooms. When you have no gender The simple act of relieving yourself becomes a chore The heavy weight of that key decision Chokes your lungs as you stand outside the doors Two doors. Men. Women. Not me. The choice becomes simplified: While I sometimes pass as a man I often do not. I can choose the men's bathroom The consequence of which could end in physical violence The same hate I explain through my essay. The same fear that plagues my community. The women's restroom is also an option The consequences likely less dire than the former: Heavy side eye and the potential of yelling. A much safer choice. Obviously. Per usual, I walk into the women's room. I take three strides inside. Then I stop. I've never used the men's room. My fear of violent reactions has always won. Yet at a time like this How likely is it that someone is inside the men's room? Now is my chance to face my fears. Now I have a safe chance at peeing in peace. In a bathroom potentially more suiting Of my gender identity So I turn around. Let the door slam behind me. Half a step into the men's room The smell of rancid ***** hits my senses Toilet paper liters the stalls I have missed absolutely nothing in my years in the women's room Women have nicer facilities A significantly more advanced hand dryer Cleanliness Air freshener Men do not have these luxuries Now I question, Do men not take as good of care of their bathrooms as women do? Do the workers intentionally prioritize women's sanitation? What causes this undeniable divide? Is the messiness of the men's room a result of their conscious decisions? Or simply a response to societal expectation? Regardless, I think I'll stick to the women's room While I add bathrooms to my compilation Of more discrete gender inequality
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61
I just feel so much guilt, My words and actions built, I know, what I did was wrong, Tried to avoid it and be strong. Following me has been the truth, It was hurting like a tooth. A second more, I could not deny, Not apologising was a lie. I'm sorry, from deep inside, Clearly guilty, my hands are tied. It was obviously, all my fault, I have opened my inner vault. I'm really sorry for my recent actions, Selfishly searching for your reactions. What I did wasn't kin, I don't know what got into my mind. Something wrong with my psychology, From my heart I bring this apology. I know there are no valid excuses, Negative feelings arguments produces. I'm really sorry, I truly care, What I did was completely unfair, Hope you forgive me over time, I feel awful about my crime. Please give me a chance to explain, What I did was completely vain. It was clearly way beyond rude, Completely stupid, I must conclude. I used words, I did not mean, I need to stop-acting fifteen. My actions and words, simply not right, I'm sorry for my anger and spite. Please give me a chance to explain, There must be something wrong with my brain. My emotions, I must learn to control, And never hurt you, this is my goal. I look in the mirror, feel so much shame. It was my fault, I deserve all the blame. Just don't know what I was thinking, With all this shame, I feel like I'm sinking. All the consequences, I completely deserve, Can't imagine, where I found the nerve, I just feel like the biggest fool, What I did, was simply not cool. Your forgiveness, I earnestly plead, Without it, my heart won't be freed. Please forgive me, I miss you so much, Beautiful voice and your tender touch. I agree, I was wrong, Wish I could, sing a song, I know you're are mad, What I did was bad. Nothing about it, I'm proud, I was trying to impress the crowd. Next time I should really thing, Maybe even see a shrink What I'm trying to say, My love for you grow everyday. We should never fight, I need to hold you every night. I've been lucky to have a girl like you, I'm sorry if you only knew. Feel so bad, for being so rude, I'm sorry for messing up your mood. I promise to treat you like a Queen, I'm sorry for being so mean. If only somehow, I could make things better, This poem's from my heart, not just a letter. Your inner and outer beauty amaze, I'm sorry, for my crazy phase. I wish to give you my entire heart, Please forgive me, we could make new start.
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
I'm Sorry
I just feel so much guilt, My words and actions built, I know, what I did was wrong, Tried to avoid it and be strong. Following me has been the truth, It was hurting like a tooth. A second more, I could not deny, Not apologising was a lie. I'm sorry, from deep inside, Clearly guilty, my hands are tied. It was obviously, all my fault, I have opened my inner vault. I'm really sorry for my recent actions, Selfishly searching for your reactions. What I did wasn't kin, I don't know what got into my mind. Something wrong with my psychology, From my heart I bring this apology. I know there are no valid excuses, Negative feelings arguments produces. I'm really sorry, I truly care, What I did was completely unfair, Hope you forgive me over time, I feel awful about my crime. Please give me a chance to explain, What I did was completely vain. It was clearly way beyond rude, Completely stupid, I must conclude. I used words, I did not mean, I need to stop-acting fifteen. My actions and words, simply not right, I'm sorry for my anger and spite. Please give me a chance to explain, There must be something wrong with my brain. My emotions, I must learn to control, And never hurt you, this is my goal. I look in the mirror, feel so much shame. It was my fault, I deserve all the blame. Just don't know what I was thinking, With all this shame, I feel like I'm sinking. All the consequences, I completely deserve, Can't imagine, where I found the nerve, I just feel like the biggest fool, What I did, was simply not cool. Your forgiveness, I earnestly plead, Without it, my heart won't be freed. Please forgive me, I miss you so much, Beautiful voice and your tender touch. I agree, I was wrong, Wish I could, sing a song, I know you're are mad, What I did was bad. Nothing about it, I'm proud, I was trying to impress the crowd. Next time I should really thing, Maybe even see a shrink What I'm trying to say, My love for you grow everyday. We should never fight, I need to hold you every night. I've been lucky to have a girl like you, I'm sorry if you only knew. Feel so bad, for being so rude, I'm sorry for messing up your mood. I promise to treat you like a Queen, I'm sorry for being so mean. If only somehow, I could make things better, This poem's from my heart, not just a letter. Your inner and outer beauty amaze, I'm sorry, for my crazy phase. I wish to give you my entire heart, Please forgive me, we could make new start.
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72
Emotions are just chemical Reactions that I wish didn't exist.
0
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Chemistry
I argue To harm you The protective computer screen Allows me to be rude or mean Without feeling your pain So it becomes a game Or a simulation of fame If I can ignore the shame The tread is wearing off the tire After the internet stripped The rubber off the telephone wire And we lost our loose grip After being shocked By the rest of the flock Their existence Shows a difference That is hard to accept We're not what we expect We push the boundaries of communication But we can't handle the technology I feel it gives me social immunization But I feel the darkness follow me And swallow me Until I'm wallowing Yet I don't know why I try to ignore it Only if it gets me high Will I be for it This utilitarian keyboard Should help me see more Instead it transcribes my anger As I turn into an electric stranger The words on my pixelated screen Do not reflect my childhood dreams But the bitterness of dreams being crushed My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed And I represent my views in a negative way Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say There is a need for empathy In the electronic discourse Right now there is only entropy And words without remorse Spoken from a high horse That looks down on peasants who own it It's also a slave but doesn't even know it So it arrogantly trots along Never admitting that it's wrong Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle But the venom has already been injected And its mind becomes hopelessly infected We argue without blinking We argue without thinking We argue with poor logic Our ignorance we flaunt it Until the internet is haunted
0
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
Haunted
I argue To harm you The protective computer screen Allows me to be rude or mean Without feeling your pain So it becomes a game Or a simulation of fame If I can ignore the shame The tread is wearing off the tire After the internet stripped The rubber off the telephone wire And we lost our loose grip After being shocked By the rest of the flock Their existence Shows a difference That is hard to accept We're not what we expect We push the boundaries of communication But we can't handle the technology I feel it gives me social immunization But I feel the darkness follow me And swallow me Until I'm wallowing Yet I don't know why I try to ignore it Only if it gets me high Will I be for it This utilitarian keyboard Should help me see more Instead it transcribes my anger As I turn into an electric stranger The words on my pixelated screen Do not reflect my childhood dreams But the bitterness of dreams being crushed My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed And I represent my views in a negative way Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say There is a need for empathy In the electronic discourse Right now there is only entropy And words without remorse Spoken from a high horse That looks down on peasants who own it It's also a slave but doesn't even know it So it arrogantly trots along Never admitting that it's wrong Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle But the venom has already been injected And its mind becomes hopelessly infected We argue without blinking We argue without thinking We argue with poor logic Our ignorance we flaunt it Until the internet is haunted
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56
A Jersey girl came along and I started to think about angles of yaw needed to take flight, how the force of a kick skirts the delicate line between winning and losing. I’ve seen it all before, but not like this. Besides, seeing has nothing to do with believing. Corneas can't capture the vibrations of molecules or excitations of electrons. Champions defy biology, overcome gravity and I believe what goes up does not always come down. I want to know the point where focus takes control of epinephrine, who’s cascade is initiated by the roar of a crowd, but negatively regulated by doubt, when to take a long shot or build up slowly. I want to live the difference between accuracy and precision, taste the dirt, become painted with bruises and scorch my heart. A flag is heaviest when you carry it, lightest when it’s raised, worn as a cape and allowed to wave in the wind. Countries aren't build, they're created created denying muscles oxygen but allowing them to taste gold. It's ability to conduct electricity astounds me. It’s not about alchemy but transforming sweat into tears, fixing nitrogen, reducing triglycerides. Not all reactions need light, some create it. It’s only over when there’s not enough energy for activation.
0
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
Carli Lloyd is a Badass
Here oh postmodern nihilist the grave awaits your death wish: Life       a          struggle escape it death           so tempting grasp it              and take its era with you: Keep it             away from our church's                                                      our schools                                                                          our civics                                                                                                                                                                                and further culture. Lo, the children black as the hell they die in... Its inordinately subjective unconsciousness; confused emotionally with its ineptitude of reason. Blaming its former God, for their own doing. Wanting to save that world upon themselves left behind from such a rejection. Lest they live in a Christ so unjust. As to not know all men equally, but to judge them--in their distinction. Creation your natural law emphasizes that which we do not want to come to terms with. If only we could make us all inter-dependent biological beings of mechanization. Chain me to genetic determinism and biochemical reactions foremost -- lest my soul affirms inequality:                                                                                   Liberty exulted                                                                                   by the risen Lord: Supremacy/Autonomy © S. Wesley Mcgranor
0
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Here Oh Postmodern Nihilist
Here oh postmodern nihilist the grave awaits your death wish: Life       a          struggle escape it death           so tempting grasp it              and take its era with you: Keep it             away from our church's                                                      our schools                                                                          our civics                                                                                                                                                                                and further culture. Lo, the children black as the hell they die in... Its inordinately subjective unconsciousness; confused emotionally with its ineptitude of reason. Blaming its former God, for their own doing. Wanting to save that world upon themselves left behind from such a rejection. Lest they live in a Christ so unjust. As to not know all men equally, but to judge them--in their distinction. Creation your natural law emphasizes that which we do not want to come to terms with. If only we could make us all inter-dependent biological beings of mechanization. Chain me to genetic determinism and biochemical reactions foremost -- lest my soul affirms inequality:                                                                                   Liberty exulted                                                                                   by the risen Lord: Supremacy/Autonomy © S. Wesley Mcgranor
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36
acting is a lot easier than people let you believe. First you pick a person, some sort of simple, easy, fun-loving personality some range of phrases for said personality mixed in with reactions of course, and BAM you got the gist. my character is funny in the way that they're sort of me. I'm very fake. I've got this habit, you see, this habit of smiling and laughing. "it's fine, it's funny we're laughing." I'm the therapist, they come to me, I help. I collect shards and paste them together abandoning my own flayed pieces, ignoring my own shattered self. But that's okay! See that's okay!! Because J! J! J doesn't mind being stepped on! OH ** ** J DOESN'T MIND BEING USED AND TORMENTED! NO NO CONTINUE PLEASE! J doesn't MIND only being talked to when others need something! Please, go ON! Because J! J WILL LET YOU? and why? maybe it's the separation anxiety or abandonment issues or the fear of being alone in a general way or a fear of being hated maybe it's because J is so ****** use to being treated like a ******* DOORMAT! that it doesn't even phase them anymore it doesn't even matter anymore it's part of the normal world day-to-day life! . . . I smile a lot. I laugh a lot. More than most. More than I should. Some would argue that it's simply too much am I trying too hard with it? is it somehow obvious? . . . I left my first period to the bathroom. and proceeded to sit down on the hate this word and yet i couldn't cry? WHY? someone else was in the bathroom. I wanted NEEDED some sort of a break and yet J and yet I I could not give myself leniency. Even alone even if the person there didn't matter. So when she left, a shed I still could not cry and i split skin instead. I had planned it for a while nowhere near deep enough of course couldn't be caught bleeding all around the school. I had my blades in the bag, I tucked them into my pocket. some of the juice splattered itself onto tile floor onto blue jeans onto hate this word paper wrapping itself around my arms, pleading with me to please, please stop. but who the **** cares because . . . I smile a lot.
0
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 9:39 AM UTC
eccedentesiast
acting is a lot easier than people let you believe. First you pick a person, some sort of simple, easy, fun-loving personality some range of phrases for said personality mixed in with reactions of course, and BAM you got the gist. my character is funny in the way that they're sort of me. I'm very fake. I've got this habit, you see, this habit of smiling and laughing. "it's fine, it's funny we're laughing." I'm the therapist, they come to me, I help. I collect shards and paste them together abandoning my own flayed pieces, ignoring my own shattered self. But that's okay! See that's okay!! Because J! J! J doesn't mind being stepped on! OH ** ** J DOESN'T MIND BEING USED AND TORMENTED! NO NO CONTINUE PLEASE! J doesn't MIND only being talked to when others need something! Please, go ON! Because J! J WILL LET YOU? and why? maybe it's the separation anxiety or abandonment issues or the fear of being alone in a general way or a fear of being hated maybe it's because J is so ****** use to being treated like a ******* DOORMAT! that it doesn't even phase them anymore it doesn't even matter anymore it's part of the normal world day-to-day life! . . . I smile a lot. I laugh a lot. More than most. More than I should. Some would argue that it's simply too much am I trying too hard with it? is it somehow obvious? . . . I left my first period to the bathroom. and proceeded to sit down on the hate this word and yet i couldn't cry? WHY? someone else was in the bathroom. I wanted NEEDED some sort of a break and yet J and yet I I could not give myself leniency. Even alone even if the person there didn't matter. So when she left, a shed I still could not cry and i split skin instead. I had planned it for a while nowhere near deep enough of course couldn't be caught bleeding all around the school. I had my blades in the bag, I tucked them into my pocket. some of the juice splattered itself onto tile floor onto blue jeans onto hate this word paper wrapping itself around my arms, pleading with me to please, please stop. but who the **** cares because . . . I smile a lot.
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74
*reciprocal bonds from transforming reactions interdependence*
0
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
Covalent
So, along comes Love, who brings Passion, and Desire. Love ends up tying me up, Passion blindfolds me, while Desire takes control. Now we are ready to role. These ladies forced my hand, no plans to console. Love keeps touching my heart, has a strong hold. Passion is a work of art; touches my soul. While Desire has her *** up, legs are spread apart; trying to take control. Love keeps on tempting me, such a tease. Passion keeps begging pretty "please", while she's on her knees. Desire won't listen, But she's dying to be pleased. They blowing my mind; I'm not talking a breeze. Loves so distracting, to busy multitasking. Passions is upset, didn't like my reactions. Desire is still her, looking for some action. Love, left with Forgiveness, and Passion left with the Compassion. Desire left me for much stronger attractions. It doesn't matter, all three, were just distractions. Rather post it on Hello Poetry, probably get better reactions!
0
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
*********
how do you paint water, or clouds? I could read poetry for the brief, of my of remaining life, however brief, and never be satiated, of love, and streams of water, never stilled, always running in patterns that exist, but for milliseconds, admired by clouds born in, of, a moment of re-formation that is perpetuity long: unending shape shifting, like the freedom of flowing water currents, forming, reforming and unthinkable, nay, inconceivable that human eyes or their spoken words could capture their shiny white foamy essence But of love, that we can do, paint, design, recreate its endless loops of undulations, like the radiating circularity of a pebble dropped gently to its burial sight in a quiet pond. Humans know, understand and excel at clasping and grasping at the synapsing of human cells from differing bodies: the exogenous erogenous of human touch that like the clouds and the water, who could paint that, who capable of capturing said sensations that wrack and enliven the body with invisible interior chemical reactions. I cannot. Thankfully better men and women have treatised  their entreaties to the powers of the universe and been rewarded with the skilled delicacy of weaving human tapestries, the milliseconds of connectivity, eclectic and electrifying of different currents and differing amperage’s forming and reforming like water moving, just  like the clouds changing in response to the externalities of wind and gravity and all the forces of nature that encourage us to study and stare at these flows, hoping to entrance them into standing still for but a moment, and instead, mesmerizing us into standing motionless for hours in awe of their freedom. Love’s undulations too mesmerizing, and freezing us into place, or alternatively caucus to run endlessly arms extending, flying though not airborne, rocketing us upwards while feet never budging, but finding good wards, masterful metaphors to recreate and thus to share the fabulous mystery of this thing we know as love. 2:58AM Friday jul 22 (jewel 22) of the 23rd year of the 21st Century. O.L.P.
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Jul 21, 2023
Jul 21, 2023 at 3:05 AM UTC
How do you paint water, or clouds? Or write of love?
how do you paint water, or clouds? I could read poetry for the brief, of my of remaining life, however brief, and never be satiated, of love, and streams of water, never stilled, always running in patterns that exist, but for milliseconds, admired by clouds born in, of, a moment of re-formation that is perpetuity long: unending shape shifting, like the freedom of flowing water currents, forming, reforming and unthinkable, nay, inconceivable that human eyes or their spoken words could capture their shiny white foamy essence But of love, that we can do, paint, design, recreate its endless loops of undulations, like the radiating circularity of a pebble dropped gently to its burial sight in a quiet pond. Humans know, understand and excel at clasping and grasping at the synapsing of human cells from differing bodies: the exogenous erogenous of human touch that like the clouds and the water, who could paint that, who capable of capturing said sensations that wrack and enliven the body with invisible interior chemical reactions. I cannot. Thankfully better men and women have treatised  their entreaties to the powers of the universe and been rewarded with the skilled delicacy of weaving human tapestries, the milliseconds of connectivity, eclectic and electrifying of different currents and differing amperage’s forming and reforming like water moving, just  like the clouds changing in response to the externalities of wind and gravity and all the forces of nature that encourage us to study and stare at these flows, hoping to entrance them into standing still for but a moment, and instead, mesmerizing us into standing motionless for hours in awe of their freedom. Love’s undulations too mesmerizing, and freezing us into place, or alternatively caucus to run endlessly arms extending, flying though not airborne, rocketing us upwards while feet never budging, but finding good wards, masterful metaphors to recreate and thus to share the fabulous mystery of this thing we know as love. 2:58AM Friday jul 22 (jewel 22) of the 23rd year of the 21st Century. O.L.P.
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47
Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion. The Very Sound Of The Creators Verse And Rhythm In Loving Notion Pouring Through The Crystalline Endocrine Indoctrinated Shock Ra Of Shocking Unblocking Colorful Tones In Unmolested Focus And Definition. To Flow Your Emo-tions Through Your Core And Manifest In Your Intended Notion All Without The Misidentified Horror Of The Wrongfully And Negatively Defined Emotions, One Finds That The Mere Act Of William Tell And That Apple Upon The Head Must Have Been One Hell Of An Interesting Interaction, Yet Instead Of The Reassuring Smiles And Calm Demeanor Of The Archer As They Lock Eyes, What Pray Tell You Think The Eyes Of The Archer Looked Like On That Very Frozen In Time Moment As He Released The Arrow To Guided Love Of Perfected Intent And Delivery Of Safe And Demanding Fortitude Of Action To Defeat All Possible Variable , As If To Need To Bend The Very Laws Of Nature If They Were To Cause An Number Of Odd And Unpredictable Events To Derail The Intent Of The Man Shooting The Apple Off The Head Of His Dear Child's Head, For Not A Bird May Pass Between, Not A Gust Of Wind Be Seen, Not An Earthquake Be Fabled To Accrue, Not A Single Action But The Undeterred Focus Of Absolute Might In Will, His Fee Will In Flight. What Might His Eyes Be Relaying In That Frozen Moment? Reassurance, Pity, Fear, Confidence, Or The Electric Fire Of Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion To Get The **** Thing Done And Without Foolish ******** Reactions To The Real And True Focus Of Emotion, And Pray Tell, What If The Child Mistook This Look In A Moments Notice And Flinched Out Of Concern That The Father Was Angry With Him? Or Is It Best To Realize The Real Importance Of This Story As It Is The Trust In The Definitions Of Intended Focus And Not Of Simple Trust.? ,... Yes, Intended Focus Of Emotions Being Trusted As True And Not Negative In Nature, Dear Friend, Yes. So Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot, Let The Flow Of Emotion Be Free And Not Dictated By The Restraints Of Control And Be Seen And Used In Negative Ways, For These Are The Crimes Against All Mankind And The Bigger Part Of Why Spoken Word Is The Very Spell That Binds The Psyche, For The Focus Of Or The Lack Of Focus Of Emotions True Meaning And Purpose Is The Crime Against All Life Indeed. Live Free And Pilot This Love Ship Successfully By No Longer Defining Self By The Ways And Means That Have Caused Us To Fear Our Own Power To Move Mountains, And Kept Us All Mustard Seeds When We Are Truly  Far More Than You Can Believe. Feel Free, Yes, By All Means Feel Free.
0
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
By All Means, Please Feel Free.
Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion. The Very Sound Of The Creators Verse And Rhythm In Loving Notion Pouring Through The Crystalline Endocrine Indoctrinated Shock Ra Of Shocking Unblocking Colorful Tones In Unmolested Focus And Definition. To Flow Your Emo-tions Through Your Core And Manifest In Your Intended Notion All Without The Misidentified Horror Of The Wrongfully And Negatively Defined Emotions, One Finds That The Mere Act Of William Tell And That Apple Upon The Head Must Have Been One Hell Of An Interesting Interaction, Yet Instead Of The Reassuring Smiles And Calm Demeanor Of The Archer As They Lock Eyes, What Pray Tell You Think The Eyes Of The Archer Looked Like On That Very Frozen In Time Moment As He Released The Arrow To Guided Love Of Perfected Intent And Delivery Of Safe And Demanding Fortitude Of Action To Defeat All Possible Variable , As If To Need To Bend The Very Laws Of Nature If They Were To Cause An Number Of Odd And Unpredictable Events To Derail The Intent Of The Man Shooting The Apple Off The Head Of His Dear Child's Head, For Not A Bird May Pass Between, Not A Gust Of Wind Be Seen, Not An Earthquake Be Fabled To Accrue, Not A Single Action But The Undeterred Focus Of Absolute Might In Will, His Fee Will In Flight. What Might His Eyes Be Relaying In That Frozen Moment? Reassurance, Pity, Fear, Confidence, Or The Electric Fire Of Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion To Get The **** Thing Done And Without Foolish ******** Reactions To The Real And True Focus Of Emotion, And Pray Tell, What If The Child Mistook This Look In A Moments Notice And Flinched Out Of Concern That The Father Was Angry With Him? Or Is It Best To Realize The Real Importance Of This Story As It Is The Trust In The Definitions Of Intended Focus And Not Of Simple Trust.? ,... Yes, Intended Focus Of Emotions Being Trusted As True And Not Negative In Nature, Dear Friend, Yes. So Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot, Let The Flow Of Emotion Be Free And Not Dictated By The Restraints Of Control And Be Seen And Used In Negative Ways, For These Are The Crimes Against All Mankind And The Bigger Part Of Why Spoken Word Is The Very Spell That Binds The Psyche, For The Focus Of Or The Lack Of Focus Of Emotions True Meaning And Purpose Is The Crime Against All Life Indeed. Live Free And Pilot This Love Ship Successfully By No Longer Defining Self By The Ways And Means That Have Caused Us To Fear Our Own Power To Move Mountains, And Kept Us All Mustard Seeds When We Are Truly  Far More Than You Can Believe. Feel Free, Yes, By All Means Feel Free.
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3
Constallations, a septette for shining stars Seven in number, aline like no other, a fusion sign in melting white, Caught in stellar evolution in the arts of the nuclear, they expand, Red giants, the final step in their life, before they either blow the layer off gently tossing it into the depth of space, or they go out with a bang The fall of these great stars, gifting light which is likely to grow life, A nova which drags their orbital children to the deepest abyss releasing enough energy for a heavenly meltdown breaking hell loose Stars, standing upon the pillars of creaton planted in there like trees, Polaris, burn bright in white till you blow up, hell fire don't go out, In line, with the others, you form a radiant great, or rather big dipper, Oh you blazing fixed star, northern, luminous and majestic, shine on, Let this dream fill you up with energy, rumbling deep inside, still you are satisfied, with the reactions, with speed much greater than sound, A force which would easily break the earths ground, shatter it within moments of a violent dance of might and power beyond any reason, For the millions, the septentrion shall shine on in a changing dipper, Until the moment they die. ~ Umi
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Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 6:37 PM UTC
"Septentrion"
I've yet to discover what my path is. I've yet to understand my emotions my thoughts my reasoning behind my reactions. I am unsure why elders say i should act my age, I do not think one can act a certain age, I think my maturity should not be associated with my age. I am aware of the world, at times to aware for my own good, it scares me where this world can wonder to which part of the forest will societies majority take the rest of us who cant escape. I am yet to finish these thoughts i find there is no time to but i know it will be done soon.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
Thoughts
This is only our second encounter but all hesitation is gone from your actions I walked into the lair of a merciless monster igniting a domino of reactions my cheeks flushed as I'm held by this beast that I find myself pinned underneath hot breath pours out on my neck as my ears are grazed by your teeth my heart pounds against your chest your hands roughly comb through my hair I squirm, submerged in your arms continually gasping for air your mouth desperately searching for mine I finally succumb to your kiss the problem with a fatal attractions, is deciphering what's hell and what's bliss
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Fatal Attraction
I know you are part of my destiny So I haven't cried as much over our separation True, I did cry an ocean of tears But not so many to drown the grounds I stand upon I said words of frustration And whispered cries of surrender and desertion But I am open to emotions and those words allowed release -But- what I suggested in heated state of mind was just that Suggestions, not proclamations nor plans You know I tend to submerge myself in evil waters In order to rise from them with strength even greater Those shouts you may or may not have heard were the waters I was wading And now, I am back to the heavens with a heart more unbreakable Refreshed and replenished with the purity of home air I remain sure of the decision I made that day Don't worry, I am still certain of my true love for you No- More certain of everything I guess it took all those months to realise it I needed to break down in strengthening To lead the way to the point of exhaustion Because now, it's your turn to stand ahead As I deep down predicted, my words did not gain action Although reactions were clearly achieved Though words were controlled and questions avoided Your eyes that trick you, are as always unable to deceive me I guess what I am trying to express Is my undying true love for you My heart is unbroken, despite what I said Still holding you within, still cradling our infants to come
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Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
True love never dies
Atoms circulate between the nuclei of touch Schrodinger’s laws exposing deceit and truth Lamenting in the protons, electrons, and neutrons Encircling the senses between the eyes and fingers Particles flow between the elements of breathing Of soul, of emotion, and memories worn thin In terminal velocities of thought and contemplation Barriers of consciousness and reality Molecules of intentions, intricate and delicate Bound together by ionic twists of fate And strained into bent bonds of insecurity Providing violent reactions of regrets Ions, formed in this union, complicate the formula Indifferent to the imbalance between the sighs Requiring the impact, to leave a free electron of motive Resulting in a positive change of heart and mind © 2014
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Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Chemistry of Effect