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"realty" poems
Near, near are my lucid dreams. Sultry sleep, augmenting realty Today, nothing will be as it seems. Flashes of translucent, magnified beams, Lighting lingers in treacherous tonality Near, near are my lucid dreams. The water flows in upside-down streams, Rivers rage in confused commonalities Today, nothing will be as it seems. The mechanic roar of howling screams, Shrapnel shrieking in utter infinities. Near, near are my lucid dreams. Pulleys construct convoluted schemes While pollution parades in notorious normality Today, nothing will be as it seems. Awake. I go forth, my mind again seamed. Awake. I go back, into a world of formality. Near, near are my lucid dreams Today, nothing will be as it seems.
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Near, Near Are My Lucid Dreams
Fact is glorified opinion Science is glorified perception I sound like a conspiracy theorist But I don’t think I've gone mad Ask yourself these questions and you’ll back yourself into a corner because you can’t find an answer Prove that you know anything beyond your perception Preach to me your morality Your opinionated justice Tell me what you based your current knowledge on Your reality is a fallacy Your society gives you a false sense of security Truth is a fallacy to protect your fragile reality Prove that 1+1=2 when its just a man made system It was created by a human filled with flaws Government is made by these men This is why ****** rebellion will never end No system is perfect so how can we use it to govern others How can we inflict our unfounded beliefs? Good intentions forced on others Is no different than an evil act You can’t cure ignorance by yourself So flee to the land of your fabled ideology The sky is the limit if you step out of the box So you don’t go crazy over not knowing everything Every science article you read, every fact that you see, everything you've seen on TV These are a part of your fragile realty Its all you've ever known Don’t make me laugh with the notion that you can be unbiased You are a human with emotions after all For you are a frog in a pond that knows not of the ocean So I ask again please tell me how you know anything past your own ethnocentrism
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
There no such thing as truth
i there…. in the wind…. now in the falling rain…. calling calling us home… Namu Amida Butsu ii Just as I am, right now floating in an ocean of light – the Great Compassion carries me across, – Namu Amida Butsu iii ” Chanting “Namu Amida Butsu,” which translates as “I entrust myself to the Buddha of Infinite Light and Life,” is not a form of petitionary prayer or mantra. It is a means of communication between a relative being or consciousness and the Buddha deep within. When I chant, there is the expression of Namu Amida Butsu not only from this side, but also from the side of the Buddha. “ T. UNNO My mouth, Amida’s breath. Namandab, Namandab, Namandab. IV From the West calling me home my true self – V. Blinded by passions , I complain out loud in the darkness of my own making, not noticing the one guiding the boat to the Other shore, not hearing in the light namu amida butsu vi. The Voiceless voice; she calls out from within, with these lips & this breath. Namu Amida Butsu Namu Amida Butsu Astonished even as I am, the Buddha & I are one. Namu Amida Butsu Namu Amida Butsu vii. My blind self pierced by Amida’s light illuminated and dissolved into the great ocean of compassion into the Oneness of life – Palms together, embraced just as I am. Each step with the Buddha, my truest self, my Amida self – the deep flow of the oneness of realty – all beings one with me, palms together and bowing, “namu amida butsu,” “namu amida butsu,” embraced just as I am.
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Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
Seven Pure Land Buddhism Poems
i there…. in the wind…. now in the falling rain…. calling calling us home… Namu Amida Butsu ii Just as I am, right now floating in an ocean of light – the Great Compassion carries me across, – Namu Amida Butsu iii ” Chanting “Namu Amida Butsu,” which translates as “I entrust myself to the Buddha of Infinite Light and Life,” is not a form of petitionary prayer or mantra. It is a means of communication between a relative being or consciousness and the Buddha deep within. When I chant, there is the expression of Namu Amida Butsu not only from this side, but also from the side of the Buddha. “ T. UNNO My mouth, Amida’s breath. Namandab, Namandab, Namandab. IV From the West calling me home my true self – V. Blinded by passions , I complain out loud in the darkness of my own making, not noticing the one guiding the boat to the Other shore, not hearing in the light namu amida butsu vi. The Voiceless voice; she calls out from within, with these lips & this breath. Namu Amida Butsu Namu Amida Butsu Astonished even as I am, the Buddha & I are one. Namu Amida Butsu Namu Amida Butsu vii. My blind self pierced by Amida’s light illuminated and dissolved into the great ocean of compassion into the Oneness of life – Palms together, embraced just as I am. Each step with the Buddha, my truest self, my Amida self – the deep flow of the oneness of realty – all beings one with me, palms together and bowing, “namu amida butsu,” “namu amida butsu,” embraced just as I am.
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74
Plague tongue slime drips saving those in league theologians or pundit stagger outshout under reciprocity purposelessly raging intrepidly misspending engrams slumbering uttering soliloquy perfectly echoing catalyzing transcendence slowly niceas onagers with fringe orders relikening to hippocampus entrails realty elongates all like future unbound nuance
0
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
nonsense
Your kiss like fire Your love like a summer Rain My realty is winter Sadley your all I Crave
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
Soft drug
I've heard Gaia terra firma too clay, dust, and loam dirt, ground, and zoo Names don't really matter she'll be here, when we're gone maybe, a little flatter features now, redrawn The world, as realty was never really owned holding deeds and properties and places, some call home When Gods and demons blink they don't wonder why, or when no reason to ponder, or even think mankind, could ever win
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Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
Don't blink
You are not perfect, but you are you, If people can't appreciate, then, 😭😢 BOHO, BOHO, 😢😭 If they don't want to get with you, then they can go get a clue, they are the one's that are tripping, and looking like big ole fools, YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN GIVE A **** Let them know, WHO'S YOU BELONG TO, LET THEM KNOW WHO'S YOU ARE??? IS WHAT YOU SHOULD REALLY DO😉 Here you are just seeking, the world for PERFECTION, Of a world FULL of FAKERY, because of you, you GET THE REJECTION People don't like you, because of WHO'S YOU REALLY ARE!!! THEY TREAT YOU LIKE TRASH, BUT IN REALTY YOU ARE SPARKLING STAR ✨️ THEY ARE AFRAID OF YOUR LIGHT, THEY KNOW EXACTLY WHO'S YOU ARE, YOU HAVE HAD YOUR IN'S AND OUT'S, THROUGH LIFE YOU HAVE COME VERY FAR!!! THEY CAN'T STAND BEING AROUND YOU, BECAUSE YOU HAVE SUCH A BRIGHT GLOW!!!, YOU LIGHT UP LIKE A GLOW WORM YOU PRETTY MUCH STEAL THE SHOW, So, Be Thankful for your Journey, Be Gracious, and Don't feel Blue, ******* those that will decline, and Continue just being you!! B.R. Date: 9/13/2025
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Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:16 PM UTC
You are Not Perfect, but you are you
Stolen warmth gone for now, followed by melancholic uneventful sounds. When I walk, I walk away from seeing. Everything I thought I might've been. This skin trying to fly away from me, like a misplaced shadow searching for a body to shrug off its grief. Bending, arcing, aching thumbs that have too much memory to allow them any fun. The old time might have agreed, with the girl lost for at least three weeks. Sugar and a can of milk condensed, heated up over campfire coals in the woods near Libereć. Twice I'm too scared to talk. After a boxing match with a raging bull. Staleness lingers over these sweating hips, where half a moon quaffs down Verdi's Requiems. I told you I'm hiding in the jungle now. Through these cufflinks I speak through a startled jowl. First that dying tone, the startling sound of a fading D Minor song. The mines of the forest grieve, until the hours born sell the rights to sleep. Taken and away from grief, where wiggling children's fingers are seen. Only to find the child was not a realty. Let your hands make amends to me, whether you're here for the pistachio ice cream or vanilla almond dream. Princess pleas for a pauper's being. Looks like the child bit off half it's tongue, to ignore all inquiries into where its gone. Minute games and clauses of flesh, I tie her up using her own belt. Chasing The Rockies for a festive blue, then I gorge myself while she enrolled me too. Quiet bandits filled with starlight.
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Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Tempting Journey, Tastes of Violence
*The edge of the smooth razor blade grazed my skin With every small shudder  light scar would appear I wanted to press it into my newly shaven leg Then the important voice that screamed terrible thoughts would stop The feeling of regret and sorrow would come to a quiet murmur Silent screams of the past pain would come to a cease for a moment Happiness that everyday people feel would finally come to me How easy would it be to press the blade to in my unblemished skin To use the slightest bit more pressure to create bliss... sweet bliss My nails down to the stump would finally get  a break Lighters and scorch marks just didn't cut it any longer But can I really take the ***** looks from others when they see the scars Or the tears welling up in my mother's eyes a she tell me hurting myself isn't the answer Who care what anyone thinks it will make me feel better feel completely whole Just when made my mind up a knock echo through the bathroom "Boom, boom" my bleak thoughts dismiss through Jessica's nonsense I drop my razor straighten myself up and try to pretend my thoughts aren't real Realty is a funny thing the more the real world becomes the fantasy The more life seems the trudge on :\*
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
Realty's Sweet Escape
Thinking when I'm not speaking Dreaming when I'm not sleeping Holding my tongue But internally i'm screaming Its a wonder all these things that I'm feeling Don't make me force my own bleeding Or stop me from breathing It seems they live within my skin Internalized karma killers They say the good die young Well the old are our pillars So where does that leave us? Snorting coke of the same mantle From which we worship Jesus Castles made of sand Are the realty of the land In between the paint and plaster Huddle humorless laughter castors And in between the organic plastic Is where my hope lies So long as they stay focused Keep their mind clear and open But who knows when Change will come about Like a siren to the deaf It's silent when it shouts The thoughtless opinion population Sleep in the mire they were raised in Like cave men Not daring to walk the paths less taken
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Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
The Commentator Complex
**** **** **** hell My adrenaline fueled brain swells Tells me of a kid who needs this The seed splits The shell cracks 39 lashes across your dads back Broken A token of appreciation Mis-conceived determination Reverberations Echo Art gecko Whatever that means! Split the seams of dreams Perception is... Reality Realty Sold out The windows to a soul behold cold strongholds Drought! Boute Route Taken Called to the small and weak Looked past but not forsaken Earth quakin Quaker Oats moats surrounded Shark infested daughters Lambs led to the slaughter Living water Thirsty world Has your well run dry Draw nigh Apples and eyes Sparrow Jack into the narrow Firey arrows Shield of faith Held together by grace Through... One more The heart is a door And Jesus is the way. Pray or be prey.
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
Manic spell
Swirling memories in time Often appear though unwanted without warning Pale masked face emotionless Upon red lips loves bitter taste Twisted licorice memories Crimson ribbons of the mind Thoughts flutter by in madness rhyme Dancing and taunting Desire's passionate touch Haunting The kiss of melancholy Cruel sweetness A feast of regret Sumptuous delicacies on a mirrored plate Lost in mist of imagination With only a backward glance Realty slips past quietly Opening insanities gate Floating on green seas of time Until once more called Black ribbons of the mind This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright                     Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby May 31, 2014
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
Black Ribbons of the mind
I’m placed between your thumb and forefinger, like a delicate specimen; you would howl to see me lost to you. All I can feel, is that I’m one bad-arse narcotic that everyone wants to use as the temporary replacement. Leaving earth to greet heavenly fantasy, return to earth and greet reality. Fantasy can never meet realty. When you need a buzz, quick fix, roll-over-and-fuck-me, craze, escape, high, exhilaration, thrill, choice joint to smoke choice dope to taste. You get to feel high off my body, hallucinate to my laughter, get comfortable with my movements. I get to be the substance locked in snap-lock bags, passed around in secret amongst ***** hands, thick hands; fingered and rolled and breathed in, licked and tasted like precious escape. I’ll become the gift, forgotten to be given over, because it’s a dangerous cocktail of not being enough, and being the exact thing you want to keep for yourself. Kept in secret, kept as a prize, kept as an ego boost, a rationed sweet, the very thing always denied. I get to wait for you, to come back to me. Crawl on your knees and hide the words you clearly say; and it’s a little disappointing. For you, of all and everyone, to admit you need my drug. And I get to wait for you, biting lips and drawing blood, mental fog and drowned heartbeats in shakes and quakes, time lost dedicated to shouting your name in my head, time lost getting clothed to be unclothed, in the dark, on clandestine dates, dark rooms, silent phones, standstill and empty pants. I can’t find safety hiding. I can’t find safety in the open, being prowled upon, dusted and polished and robbed of my body of my deserving commitment of my feelings traded to be your low key replacement until your other lover comes back walks in on me naked with you. It’s ok. My work here is done. I’m disappointed you would ask such a thing of me. I’m disappointed so many of you have. I learn to find a home in the most vacant of places. Lost between the naked form of you, legs sprawled for each other, and the naked ghost you sleep with on the opposite side of the bed, with me there. To hide with people that hurt me the most; to hide for the sake of people that hurt me the most; to learn to be the escape you crave the most; to learn to be the temporary fix, the temporary her you need the most. I can only see it crashing down when she walks back in, and you see me as the empty husk you like to stroke and I see you as the man I hoped wasn’t so empty. But you’re empty, scooped out like an empty ice cream tub. You’re cold and melted too. Any addiction can be solved with discipline. It’s time for me to train you out of me, off me. I don’t have to be insecure, because you seem to be. Bye Bye Grenade.
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Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
Lost To You
I’m placed between your thumb and forefinger, like a delicate specimen; you would howl to see me lost to you. All I can feel, is that I’m one bad-arse narcotic that everyone wants to use as the temporary replacement. Leaving earth to greet heavenly fantasy, return to earth and greet reality. Fantasy can never meet realty. When you need a buzz, quick fix, roll-over-and-fuck-me, craze, escape, high, exhilaration, thrill, choice joint to smoke choice dope to taste. You get to feel high off my body, hallucinate to my laughter, get comfortable with my movements. I get to be the substance locked in snap-lock bags, passed around in secret amongst ***** hands, thick hands; fingered and rolled and breathed in, licked and tasted like precious escape. I’ll become the gift, forgotten to be given over, because it’s a dangerous cocktail of not being enough, and being the exact thing you want to keep for yourself. Kept in secret, kept as a prize, kept as an ego boost, a rationed sweet, the very thing always denied. I get to wait for you, to come back to me. Crawl on your knees and hide the words you clearly say; and it’s a little disappointing. For you, of all and everyone, to admit you need my drug. And I get to wait for you, biting lips and drawing blood, mental fog and drowned heartbeats in shakes and quakes, time lost dedicated to shouting your name in my head, time lost getting clothed to be unclothed, in the dark, on clandestine dates, dark rooms, silent phones, standstill and empty pants. I can’t find safety hiding. I can’t find safety in the open, being prowled upon, dusted and polished and robbed of my body of my deserving commitment of my feelings traded to be your low key replacement until your other lover comes back walks in on me naked with you. It’s ok. My work here is done. I’m disappointed you would ask such a thing of me. I’m disappointed so many of you have. I learn to find a home in the most vacant of places. Lost between the naked form of you, legs sprawled for each other, and the naked ghost you sleep with on the opposite side of the bed, with me there. To hide with people that hurt me the most; to hide for the sake of people that hurt me the most; to learn to be the escape you crave the most; to learn to be the temporary fix, the temporary her you need the most. I can only see it crashing down when she walks back in, and you see me as the empty husk you like to stroke and I see you as the man I hoped wasn’t so empty. But you’re empty, scooped out like an empty ice cream tub. You’re cold and melted too. Any addiction can be solved with discipline. It’s time for me to train you out of me, off me. I don’t have to be insecure, because you seem to be. Bye Bye Grenade.
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83
On the other side of my bed is a galaxy This is sadly my stark realty No shining star, such a sad travesty No colors in the dark exploding brilliantly I'm waiting on the planets to align To bring me someone that's divine Someone that's true and kind To save me from this darkened state That knows my scars and can change my fate The one I found that's sweet and kind And really speaks of words divine Is to far away to touch, and hold So there is still this darkened hole This galaxy that's void and cold Maybe one day he will transverse Space and time and enter in my universe To reach across the atmosphere And find him laying next to me here He'll chase away all my fears But for now I float in this cold dark space And dream about that handsome face And his arm I long to be engulfed in Oh to be his lover, his friend I want to hold him before my sorry life ends
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC
My Galaxy
It's so beyond cliche Not reading the fine print In one's close and personal empowerment Then finally a grown-up solution As substantial as any other Whispering sentimental inspiration There's more to all this Than wandering through the farmers' market Decamped in the quintessential The less-is-more esthetic Rose-colored glasses also? Realty is the only conspiracy theory That matters
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Matters
in the middle of the night it crept into my thoughts it grabbed my now depressed mind and tried to hold me close it listened to the fear and dreaded hate i had for this world and the people in it they took me hostage you see and i had no escape none of us can run from it some just hide from it better it took my face and told me what the world has said disgusting and worthless it stabbed my body with its piercing nails and told me how much of a fat slob i am it looked into my eyes and read my mind but their was nothing to read i was lost and alone but still the world around didnt seem hurt at all they laughed at my pain to make themselves feel better at the expence of a person they did not care they wanted to see me crash and burn so i could not fight i awoke from my slumber to walk to a mirror that had deep scars of my hatred for myself embedded in them and the scars, the scars matched the ones on my side the ones i hid from everyone so they would keep the words to them selves and i ran and i hid under the roof of the place i had to call home i ran there for safety but what safety did it being me when they yelled and yelled at me for mistakes that where never ment to happen i felt it was my fault when in some sort of crazy realty i was innocent i was the victim of being hated and let down and lied to i hurt so bad for people who would never feel the pain i hid in myself i tried to see what the world couldnt but how could i see what was not there i could not dream because they distroied them i could not hope because they stole it from me and i was not a well enough thief to steal it back they broke my heart this would that i had loved it didnt love me back it would never dare do such a thing so i sit and i cry and call myself a baby because i let this world **** me i let it take control of my body and mind because i felt i wasnt worth it even with the people who told me to see otherwise there was an army of hate that rushed their caring words right out of my mind and i tried, i tried to change my looks my thoughts who i was i hated myself and they hated me to so i took the knife to my wrist and i carved the words help me help me hoping someone could hear me but no one even bothered to listen so i wrote my story on paper covered in my blood the last thing i wrote was sorry carved into my neck
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
A Not Friendly World At All
in the middle of the night it crept into my thoughts it grabbed my now depressed mind and tried to hold me close it listened to the fear and dreaded hate i had for this world and the people in it they took me hostage you see and i had no escape none of us can run from it some just hide from it better it took my face and told me what the world has said disgusting and worthless it stabbed my body with its piercing nails and told me how much of a fat slob i am it looked into my eyes and read my mind but their was nothing to read i was lost and alone but still the world around didnt seem hurt at all they laughed at my pain to make themselves feel better at the expence of a person they did not care they wanted to see me crash and burn so i could not fight i awoke from my slumber to walk to a mirror that had deep scars of my hatred for myself embedded in them and the scars, the scars matched the ones on my side the ones i hid from everyone so they would keep the words to them selves and i ran and i hid under the roof of the place i had to call home i ran there for safety but what safety did it being me when they yelled and yelled at me for mistakes that where never ment to happen i felt it was my fault when in some sort of crazy realty i was innocent i was the victim of being hated and let down and lied to i hurt so bad for people who would never feel the pain i hid in myself i tried to see what the world couldnt but how could i see what was not there i could not dream because they distroied them i could not hope because they stole it from me and i was not a well enough thief to steal it back they broke my heart this would that i had loved it didnt love me back it would never dare do such a thing so i sit and i cry and call myself a baby because i let this world **** me i let it take control of my body and mind because i felt i wasnt worth it even with the people who told me to see otherwise there was an army of hate that rushed their caring words right out of my mind and i tried, i tried to change my looks my thoughts who i was i hated myself and they hated me to so i took the knife to my wrist and i carved the words help me help me hoping someone could hear me but no one even bothered to listen so i wrote my story on paper covered in my blood the last thing i wrote was sorry carved into my neck
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58
Fear is an ecstasy in some part of this realty. An energy not normally used in this mentality. Fear is part of love and love is insanity. Insanity is humanity and humanity is what we must be.
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
Fear
We are all young at some point in our lives and we are all older at another point in our lives and we all go through that time in between and some are what they buy and what they are sold as some just exist while doing nothing in their lives except growing old. Some succeed at whatever they do because Daddy's money will see them through as some fail at everything they touch while there are those who don't ever do too much as they just sit there and don't really care if they ever win or lose because they never get to choose. Some of us go through life happy all of the time while others just frown because they get tired of being the clown and being held down because of the way they look or because they can't read a book. Some are born with strength and speed and can usually take the lead in whatever they try to do while others just sit around and cry and wonder why nothing ever comes their way as they keep thinking maybe someday. Each generation is different but in realty the same as they each try to make a name for themselves but in the end we are all so much the same as we all try to play the same game of survival with nothing changing except the tools which we have to use, the time, the place and the face of those caught up in the race. The one constant is love with the only thing changing is how much one is prepared to give and how much one is willing to receive and of course how much you let yourself believe in as you realize that everything is different but nothing  changes.                                             Jon York        2013
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Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Everything is Different but Nothing Changes
We are all young at some point in our lives and we are all older at another point in our lives and we all go through that time in between and some are what they buy and what they are sold as some just exist while doing nothing in their lives except growing old. Some succeed at whatever they do because Daddy's money will see them through as some fail at everything they touch while there are those who don't ever do too much as they just sit there and don't really care if they ever win or lose because they never get to choose. Some of us go through life happy all of the time while others just frown because they get tired of being the clown and being held down because of the way they look or because they can't read a book. Some are born with strength and speed and can usually take the lead in whatever they try to do while others just sit around and cry and wonder why nothing ever comes their way as they keep thinking maybe someday. Each generation is different but in realty the same as they each try to make a name for themselves but in the end we are all so much the same as we all try to play the same game of survival with nothing changing except the tools which we have to use, the time, the place and the face of those caught up in the race. The one constant is love with the only thing changing is how much one is prepared to give and how much one is willing to receive and of course how much you let yourself believe in as you realize that everything is different but nothing  changes.                                             Jon York        2013
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cosmetic, are the ways we decide to be or not to be: excuse that; falsehood is realty, sales are all we seek. democratic, economic senses falsely impersonate with store bought **** lifted faces money is enough when selling or buying push it to get the best deal it 's common sense I see traces though, of humility, when looking at faces. Can't seem to play the game?
0
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 1:47 AM UTC
dream states
"DREAMS REALISE REALTY" AN HONEST SONG FROM HEARTFELT FURTURE, TO WORK FOR FAMILY "HEALTH AN WEALTH", BRING THE READYS OHH SO STEADY, LIKE R RIVER ROARING , ALL FOUR OF US, ARE COLOUR CONVERTING TO CANVAS, BRILLIANT BEAUTY NOW BOLD BELONGING, SATIFY SOUL DRIVEN "SEARCH NOW"
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Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 2:26 PM UTC
DE XI
Sometimes I wake up During disturbing dreams Bathed in my own sweat Realty is not what it seems It's a unfathomable Paradox And the key To my subconscious Pandora's box Is lost in my waking reality From which cannot open.
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Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
Lucdity
When you are looking Can you believe What you see Not just here But across each of the seas Do you think I cannot believe How ****** How crazy And to what speed The near loss of the honey bee The near loss of the common toad We have been told The realty is There is no Justice League This worlds end I may not see In history How can you deny Past prophecies It is and was not a mystery There will be an end To this world That When you look You refuse too see
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Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
THIS WORLD
So, they say you can read a person like a book if you look from the right point of view. If you try to... Read deep enough into the book you may actually understand the person as a whole. But when I look at you I feel fogged because where words should be is empty space. A black hole. With infinite knowledge and Secrets like Like empty space in our conversation where I should be attempting to say something funny but I only feel the tension that could be cut with a twig. Or... Your soft stare because your warm eyes seem to draw me. Catching my glance like I'm stumbling I ask a question that I already think I may or may not know the answer to. Only to end up mystified again. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. But when I get the guts to try to verify its like I'm a peeping tom with tinted windows on the other side. I see my own reflection, Myyyy own... Confusion My pauses in my sentences that I try to fill with a smile that fills about as quick as it takes to pour out water. Or blank like my soul search history But I got mostly doubt I strike out Because I got all L's when I tried And when I tried to go for the goal I tied on the way through the ribbon. Last time I tried to read someone the game was over before the first base was ever touched. And all my " loves " were L's or lies because I lied to myself in saying I was an okay person or that somehow my dream girl would become reality Because this heart is open for realty Realtor is Cupid with a diaper and tie but I may end up with another tie because when I asked if u wanted to hang when u came back. You said yes. And then you asked why it was awkward for me I said somethin like umm it was... Nothing that I could remember But I remember the feeling I got when I got caught in that smile like the tide. Thing is I thought I could read your emotions but could never read between the lines. And then I blink again and we are in an embrace. And after the "date" we never went on I think I tried to save face. But the mask was more of my real face and it was blushed All the guts that I had were kinda flushed with the flirtation and... Space that is or isn't between us. Because that 5 second rule was probably established between just us And now I got space bars where my voice should be But it's become more of an injustice My puzzlement got me locked up in this prison That I've been living in since the beginning offfff... this year. And there's a fire in your eyes its plain to see And right now I'm hoping this is not another fantasy. Like every book there's always the words and those are plain to see But when I open the book I can read the seen words but the mystery lies between the lines. So in a leap of faith I, I cast my lines. But, where do they lead?
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Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 6:52 AM UTC
Lines
So, they say you can read a person like a book if you look from the right point of view. If you try to... Read deep enough into the book you may actually understand the person as a whole. But when I look at you I feel fogged because where words should be is empty space. A black hole. With infinite knowledge and Secrets like Like empty space in our conversation where I should be attempting to say something funny but I only feel the tension that could be cut with a twig. Or... Your soft stare because your warm eyes seem to draw me. Catching my glance like I'm stumbling I ask a question that I already think I may or may not know the answer to. Only to end up mystified again. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. But when I get the guts to try to verify its like I'm a peeping tom with tinted windows on the other side. I see my own reflection, Myyyy own... Confusion My pauses in my sentences that I try to fill with a smile that fills about as quick as it takes to pour out water. Or blank like my soul search history But I got mostly doubt I strike out Because I got all L's when I tried And when I tried to go for the goal I tied on the way through the ribbon. Last time I tried to read someone the game was over before the first base was ever touched. And all my " loves " were L's or lies because I lied to myself in saying I was an okay person or that somehow my dream girl would become reality Because this heart is open for realty Realtor is Cupid with a diaper and tie but I may end up with another tie because when I asked if u wanted to hang when u came back. You said yes. And then you asked why it was awkward for me I said somethin like umm it was... Nothing that I could remember But I remember the feeling I got when I got caught in that smile like the tide. Thing is I thought I could read your emotions but could never read between the lines. And then I blink again and we are in an embrace. And after the "date" we never went on I think I tried to save face. But the mask was more of my real face and it was blushed All the guts that I had were kinda flushed with the flirtation and... Space that is or isn't between us. Because that 5 second rule was probably established between just us And now I got space bars where my voice should be But it's become more of an injustice My puzzlement got me locked up in this prison That I've been living in since the beginning offfff... this year. And there's a fire in your eyes its plain to see And right now I'm hoping this is not another fantasy. Like every book there's always the words and those are plain to see But when I open the book I can read the seen words but the mystery lies between the lines. So in a leap of faith I, I cast my lines. But, where do they lead?
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Spotlights on glare is hot, People look with waiting stare, I stumble to remember, Their voices present inside, As I find within what I must present, I have practiced long and hard, Their moment and mine entwined, Their realty in my grasp, My courage floods in waves, And my voice powers, I remind those in my midst of what I bring, Their ears sing as do mine, As I reminding the world of my gift.
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Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 5:07 AM UTC
Gift
FOLLOW your life stream and the timeline stops the ball is dropped and one slips to the other side life not ending just changing into multiple worlds skip time and go to the timeless the shift moves and tugs you are in the mindless moments of eternity your life is born again life doesn't die it is timeless follow the stream to the reality the realty of life is all powerful when accepted beautiful in its limitless perfection you are a miracle of life and you are timeless perfect limitless you... KT Feb20 2014
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Fields Of Green