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"reawakens" poems
What is this feeling in my veins? Thawing my frostbitten heart, but not for your own gain... After the long cold months of walking in pain Your melting my lungs so I can breathe again A word so short Short and plain So much potential Associated with so much pain You've awakened a part of me that I thought to be dead Jump-started by the words you've put in my head Can this be true? Am I falling for you? Only time can tell... But I hope you'll catch me. Love. The fire that reawakens even the dead
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Zombie
Dear J,    Happiness is a relative thing, or so I've learned. There are different versions of it. Your happiness probably differs from mine, which is most likely the reason we don't talk anymore. Your happiness didn't mesh with my own, causing some friction that lit a fire, at first starting love but then flaming into contradiction. That's okay. Happiness being a relative thing keeps us all from enjoying too much of one thing.    You see, as humans we always expect that the people we love most share same interests and ideas and joys. However, this is wholly untrue. The most compatible couples have completely different opinions on what makes life better than others. This ensures that we have a wide variety of happinesses to choose from. If we were stuck with one our whole lives that happiness would eventually become nothing more than regularity. And that's another reason we became nothing more than acquaintances.    Our happiness became so norm that we abandoned it in hopes that a new joy would come along, taming the fire of contradiction. When nothing was directed our way we instead became bored. And that's also okay because a little boredom reawakens our old happinesses.    So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I hope you found your happiness. Whether that be the way the sun falls on her laughing mouth or the music you write or the poems you read, I really hope that they make you see what life can be about with this happiness in it. I loved you so much you became my happiness, and then you outgrew the position. Become someone else's happiness now. Love, Claire
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Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
Happiness Is Indeed Relative
Dear J,    Happiness is a relative thing, or so I've learned. There are different versions of it. Your happiness probably differs from mine, which is most likely the reason we don't talk anymore. Your happiness didn't mesh with my own, causing some friction that lit a fire, at first starting love but then flaming into contradiction. That's okay. Happiness being a relative thing keeps us all from enjoying too much of one thing.    You see, as humans we always expect that the people we love most share same interests and ideas and joys. However, this is wholly untrue. The most compatible couples have completely different opinions on what makes life better than others. This ensures that we have a wide variety of happinesses to choose from. If we were stuck with one our whole lives that happiness would eventually become nothing more than regularity. And that's another reason we became nothing more than acquaintances.    Our happiness became so norm that we abandoned it in hopes that a new joy would come along, taming the fire of contradiction. When nothing was directed our way we instead became bored. And that's also okay because a little boredom reawakens our old happinesses.    So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I hope you found your happiness. Whether that be the way the sun falls on her laughing mouth or the music you write or the poems you read, I really hope that they make you see what life can be about with this happiness in it. I loved you so much you became my happiness, and then you outgrew the position. Become someone else's happiness now. Love, Claire
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6
Sometimes love comes in like a storm without warning, veiled as a vast ruin with good intentions entering your heart as an army with no ammunition; for nobody warned them about what kind of vandalism goes on behind the wall of thorns that time can conceive. Sometimes love goes down easy like the banana medicine you used to drink as a child, slowly but surely, the way you would feel wellness well up inside of you until all your self hatred evaporated from your heart with each sugary swallow. Sometimes love is discreet and strange, reminding you of days you crossed the street without looking and somehow did not get hit by anything other than your own stupidity, making it unable for you to decipher the difference between the outline of fate and the shadow of coincidence. Sometimes love appears out of nowhere on the most ordinary of days during the most ordinary of circumstances, meaning everything to you but nothing at all to the other person, similar to the way you can lay beside someone staring at the clouds on a clear day and see an angel with a crown of flowers beaming down on you, when to the other person it’s nothing but a ball of cotton, floating gently away. Sometimes love reawakens ancient longings, desires you used to have and never knew you had; memories you had forgotten and mornings that made you glad; causing tears of discovery at how enough you now know that you are, no matter what has happened, or how deep go your scars. Sometimes love is enough and sometimes it’s not, sometimes you’ll keep giving it to someone despite how clear it is that they just want to be left alone to rot; and although you can beg for them not to dig their own grave and declare their defeat, you know it’s as useless as throwing flowers at their feet but you continue to love and you continue to pray, for you more than anyone have seen what can emerge from the beauty of decay.
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
the beauty of decay
Sometimes love comes in like a storm without warning, veiled as a vast ruin with good intentions entering your heart as an army with no ammunition; for nobody warned them about what kind of vandalism goes on behind the wall of thorns that time can conceive. Sometimes love goes down easy like the banana medicine you used to drink as a child, slowly but surely, the way you would feel wellness well up inside of you until all your self hatred evaporated from your heart with each sugary swallow. Sometimes love is discreet and strange, reminding you of days you crossed the street without looking and somehow did not get hit by anything other than your own stupidity, making it unable for you to decipher the difference between the outline of fate and the shadow of coincidence. Sometimes love appears out of nowhere on the most ordinary of days during the most ordinary of circumstances, meaning everything to you but nothing at all to the other person, similar to the way you can lay beside someone staring at the clouds on a clear day and see an angel with a crown of flowers beaming down on you, when to the other person it’s nothing but a ball of cotton, floating gently away. Sometimes love reawakens ancient longings, desires you used to have and never knew you had; memories you had forgotten and mornings that made you glad; causing tears of discovery at how enough you now know that you are, no matter what has happened, or how deep go your scars. Sometimes love is enough and sometimes it’s not, sometimes you’ll keep giving it to someone despite how clear it is that they just want to be left alone to rot; and although you can beg for them not to dig their own grave and declare their defeat, you know it’s as useless as throwing flowers at their feet but you continue to love and you continue to pray, for you more than anyone have seen what can emerge from the beauty of decay.
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39
A father rocks his newborn to sleep. He can hear the child sleeping soundly against his heart beat. He falls asleep thinking of his unborn son crying out: "Daddy!", he cries. "Stay, Daddy please!" he whimpers. "Stay for mommy, don't go with your 'family'!" he cries, felling his saddened mother's heartbeat. "Mommy needs help, we need help," he screams as silently as he can "we need a provider!". As he lay asleep in his mother's womb, he can feel the sadness in her heart, see his father walking towards the door and hear them arguing day by day. "Mommy's sad, she can't do it alone!" he begs. "Don't take your keys, Don't take your bags" Please don't leave, We need you to stay! he pleads. Please stop fighting, It's not good for me!" he cries. The father reawakens with tears in his eyes knowing that he almost left and never looked back.
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Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Daddy, Please Help Me!
Pond water life So dark; so dim With muddy rings Of exhaustion Glossed over blues Hardly ripple With signs of life Or emotion Dipping inside The sluggish pool Her body; now **** Stirs the surface Reawakens
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Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 4:47 PM UTC
Resurrection
Let's give form to a thought at the back of my head And let it grow, let it drag me away from my body Let it stretch me out into the past and future So I lose sight of what IS Which is here, which has always been It speaks to itself, playing that it can't know For we know that all that we can know is but Difference from Oneness, And we know that inside ourselves We are each other, nothing separates us, no, We haven't yet identified ourselves definitively but we are Stuck inside the ego while we play the game of time But we're not going to get rid of it We'll need it if the Saucers come Or dead men rise to eat our brains, But it remains, and as it should A dormant tool that reawakens Whenever the need emerges Why not take these forms that start to rise and amplify themselves in feedback loops ********* them on the page and leave them there, Outside the body, Use that action as the symbol of our casting out, not our denial but our separation From the notions that emerge of perceived Injuries from outside parties; All the pain is caused within And comes from giving shelter to those forms that form their feedback loops Demanding our attention, and insisting we'll be incomplete Until we can fulfill their fantasies of pasts and futures
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May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
Forms and Feedback Loops
The Melody within No longer reverberates That beauteous love song O, that Bountiful Ballad but My heart sings a brand new paean: One of creation, Of Wisdom, Of freedom, Of might, Of consecration. Yes, sometimes solitude Heightens our spiritual senses, Reawakens our provident defences; O, denudes our vexations. Know the Sacral Light Absolving every deathly pang Is found By Dovening Divine Aether, And summoning the Silver Wings Of the Holy Dove. Movement is neither peripheral Nor internal; Pain is neither deserved Nor natural; All things Are just as they appear To be An evident demonstration Of a Higher fidelity. Matter reverberates upon the Molecular level; We are, more Than flesh, bone, and marrow; We are, Life, Love, and Liberty; We are, a Breathing Song That exhales edification, inspiration, Contemplations, and excogitations. (Se' lah)
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Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 6:52 PM UTC
The Song of Creation (Originally penned on Saturday, January 23rd, 2021)
They’re here again. That auburn that gold the occasional surprise burst of green or blue and purple sits behind my eyes and reawakens my heart in the dark the rainbow that is your hair in the sun and that perfect sparkle catches my mind again: It’s hard to say which earring it was so I take the liberty to consider each silver crystalline spear creating harmony between gravity and your body; I take the chance to notice each peach, orange, and raspberry that paint your cheeks and nose on this sunny day that isn’t today. I remember they prove the Golden Hour’s potential for prying beauty out of these few dimensions we can comprehend. And it’s here again. Smothering everything with every most distracting color only to leave within an hour or less leaving me blind and still struggling for air, distracted by memory by shapes by your shape by color. The warm wispy clouds are your hair the red and orange are your eyes and face and the bright setting sliver disappears behind smoke. And all there is is color.
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Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 6:41 AM UTC
It leaves like you
swift inset of love's Sanskrit, a thorn of contestations. make cadence this sensorial music. centrifugally waiting bodies to cross Earths. a plethora of annulments. lion-telling Sun singes through intersections of infinities: we cannot wait to quash the morning, the scent of guava leaves and the cerement of flour on chicken. earth-hewn mounds of meat pressed against beholden kitchen clangor. declension of memory past wood and pillars of home. lattices of light forerunning fingers, let down the curtain. wind swings with maddened turbine, afternoons high with deadlock. of all that is not here, the force reawakens a long-stumped ****** beating us back to edges ruthless with angels entirely curved, singled-out, wings clipped, dancing at the tip of the candleflame.
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
Declension Of Angels
Stress eats at me Old monsters Roar to life Bad habits broken Reawakens Eyes wet with Tears unshed Hands shake Bad thoughts resurface Triggers cut deep Be calm Be quiet Be a good girl Don't make a sound Stress tearing me up inside Trying to make me insane I know I can cope The monsters Stay dead Bad habits remain broken Bad thoughts trampled Triggers still cut But I won't scar I may struggle But I won't drown Life is hard I can do hard things I am An overcomer
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Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
Overcomer
Some memories torture us evermore Through a note which haunts, And a picture which quivers our soul and renders us to naught. And as if from a forgotten dream or another breath the soul reawakens to such joy, Let it guide you in no restraint like a talisman in times of woe. Where the soul transcends over stars which glow in depths of dark in a crescent moon on a Christmas night Amongst clouds and Artists song. Let your eyes weep and let it touch your soul - for man's purpose of living is art and art alone.
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
The Artist
I stopped reading in between the lines What a joke to look among life’s hard pressed seams When the scent of sunshine burst through the windows of my open mind the shutters shuddered Coaxing shapely shadows and ambitious ponderings A new generation of ripples taking shape making waves in otherwise concrete complexities Can’t dwell on this emotion in motion too long before it fades like last night’s star light Can’t let my dreams turn white dwarf before they get to glimmer like the twinkle in your baby blues A breeze reawakens cotton ball fantasies And the day has scarcely been embarked upon
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Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 3:23 PM UTC
Onward!
I've become a dull knife. unable to slice or pierce the thinnest material. Now merely a dud of a firecracker, Where I used to be a explosion tearing apart the night sky. A tired metaphor, that merely wants to sleep until the day my soul reawakens.
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 5:47 AM UTC
work in progress
I wait in class with the sand man sitting next to me. I so desperately wish to close my eyes to comfort the boredom but my heart reawakens to hear the Teacher say "We're watching a movie to day class" I know today is going to be a good day.
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC
in class poem
Storm clouds gather. Some with silver linings. Some with darker tidings. Flash of lightning, Sprawling across the sky. Straggling ideas that stupefy. Thunder at night, Reverberating in the clouds. Echoes of faded memories too loud. Clouds of lead. Draw close to the cliff’s edge. To dump out what’s been dredged. And rain they do. Drop-by-drop, at first. Then, in fits and bursts. The rain pours n’ lashes. Entire worlds, it could sink. From eyes that do not blink. But winds never stop. Clouds drain away, move on. Get up! Keep trudging along. The sky changes colors. Beings return to their flock. Time resumes on the stopped clock. The scent of wet soil, On a breezy night stroll, Reawakens the soul. N’ when you see the moon, Peek through and shine, You know, everything will be fine.
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Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
Stormy State Of Mind
His eyes seem to be almost as if he is sleeping, dreaming of New York City and bright lights and other girls dancing among flashing strobes, their trendy halters halting his breathing and startling him back into awareness. He realizes he’s been resting his cheek on his knuckle, though all he can really feel is numbness and a slight tingle as his nerves begin to increase to match the angle of the plane. The jolt of landing reawakens his arm and the buzzing bee inside his brain as he envisions with an almost painful smile a perfect dive into the great water before him. He is there and I am here, but my hair is dripping wet.
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Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
The boy with the downturned eyes
Burning ***** of fire and gas... from down here are so beautiful. I sit within my vessel... float with the current. Rocking steadily... and my mind, being in complete meditation, cannot absorb the beauty hanging above my head. I am high off of the serenity, and romance fills my lungs.... as the gentle breeze dances in my hair and caresses my face. I disappear into the peace of this moment. My soul merges with the world around... The water appears as glass, reflecting the stars. The insects of the night serenade with a song... ringing of summer freedom. I close my eyes and listen.... My fingers dance above the water. There, the refreshing coolness reawakens me. Conscience now.... No longer lost in hypnosis, I can see that this is just as beautiful as before. Eyes open or closed has no meaning. The immaculate intensity around, lies in our minds...in our interpretation.
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Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
Night on the water
sunlight reawakens us from our open-eyed slumber things happened last night, i don’t know where to begin partly because of the outrageous events that occurred and partly since i can’t keep my thoughts straight boy, i could go for some pancakes and tea and a moving monologue of redemption. actually, no pancakes, just the other stuff. to be honest, i’m not feeling so well. dizzy, you know? i mean, the sun is up and shining but i just can’t shake the feeling that the night’s not over.
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Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 1:53 PM UTC
daylight
Acting is the full time Job of the Personality, put down, only when the pay of Revelation reawakens the Gourmet
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
Pendulum
Rainbow Miracles as the Savanna of Decision awakened now with the Peace of Acceptance, the Harmony of Faith. Truth is everywhere painted  over each thought…scrubbing the World within Free from leftover Leaves of abrasion, once released long ago, held by the branches of a Tree called Life…..Untangled Freedom, returning Now as the Kite of Praise Prayer Animal… YOUR WORD is Flesh… Did You SEE that Comet Pass? It was YOUR Hope that Ignited the Sky... no angel here...  this is the Density of Goodness made Real by the  Harmony of Being a World made Real by the L of Your Love. LOVE, washing the ground upon which IT walks..quickly scrubbing the floors of this temple with the Kindness of Generosity This is a simple room. Open as Light of Elohim, reawakens the sleeping Tiger to the innocence of its sweet bright Stripes Oiled fur that is the Blessings of Humanity. Peace.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
Lions, and Tigers, and Ligers... Oh MY!
oh may i tell you one last time,of this far away place in my mind where you and i can run, love and play, exclude the world and try to find the truth in our hearts and be forever young. the feeling as you touch me cripples my senses, if only for that moment your breathe reawakens me to that everlasting sting of your siringe of love if i can only pull that out of my body, and show you, you don't need to do it twice.
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Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC
my love
I hear the sweet songs of the birds deep into my heart The sweet fragrant smell of the rain rejuvenates my soul The beautiful flowers blooming reawakens my mind The warmth of the sun brings my body back to life Spring has come oh so lovingly -Shelly Ramos
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Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 2:13 PM UTC
Spring has come
Gone Gone like the wind Through the trees On a soft summer’s breeze It was a beautiful day When that last little part died Leaving you cold and lonely inside Comes then stormy weather Reawakens buried hurt and pain Inside A bolt of thunder Crash of light Soft rain pours down On a healed little heart Gone No more Alive
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Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 1:43 PM UTC
Storm of Life
Her laptop reawakens with a sigh. The coffee *** sputters its morning tune. Her husband already kissed her goodbye. Now alone, she listens to the birds croon. From her fingertips flow colorful realms. Inside of her is a world no one knows. She stays at home, the outside overwhelms. Although lonely, this is the life she chose. Her readers adore the worlds she creates. It helps them to escape their own conflicts. Each new novel, one patiently awaits. They fly through the pages like book addicts. As the bills grow, with her husband’s lost hope, Her words continue to help strangers cope.
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
Invisible Writer
Lions, and Tigers,, and Ligers… Oh MY! Rainbow Miracles as the Savanna of Decision awakened now with the Peace of Acceptance, the Harmony of Faith. Truth is everywhere painted  over each thought…scrubbing the World within Free from leftover Leaves of abrasion, once released long ago, held by the branches of a Tree called Life…..Untangled Freedom, returning Now as the Kite of Praise Prayer Animal… YOUR WORD is Flesh… Did You SEE that Comet Pass? It was YOUR Hope that Ignited the Sky... no angel here...  this is the Density of Goodness made Real by the  Harmony of Being a World made Real by the L of Your Love. LOVE, washing the ground upon which IT walks..quickly scrubbing the floors of this temple with the Kindness of Generosity This is a simple room. Open as Light of Elohim, reawakens the sleeping Tiger to the innocence of its sweet bright Stripes Oiled fur that is the Blessings of Humanity. Peace.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
LIFE