"reciprocated" poems
I talk words of lust
with a boy unaware
I know not if it's unjust
if he knew that i would dare
To be touching lips with another
and another after that
3 boys who want me
and on top of that...
an ex-lover who awaits
her love to be reciprocated
by one she had wronged
by me, yes, I she has wronged.
and alas, the sister of a friend
whom i am confused upon
if i should love her or not
fool, you may think that she is the last one
another girl at school
she is but a year older
i see her from time to time
rarely i seek for her
she is but a crush
the sister, but a dream
the ex-lover - such a waste
and though it may seem
that i am an adultress
because of all these men
but judge me not
i don't belong to any of them
commit, you say
it is for the best
but if i do so again
i may have to rip out my chest
it hurts beyond words
and the pain - i may not be able to bare
and i'd have to swallow the hurt again
till i am too numb to give a care
so tell me, kind stranger, what would you do?
if you had 3 boys and 1 girl loving you
another girl, you might love
and another girl, as a crush
don't you think it's a tad bit too much?
though, i can't control it
I need to be reassured
that though my love betrayed me
this broken vessel be cured
by something more real
it has to exist
something i wont be afraid to love
something far greater than a kiss
something others cant take from me
something thats just mine
something that i can have
and keep for all time
so tell me, kind stranger, do you take me for a fool?
you think i don't know that such thing is hard to find?
that it is but impossible
because i am still so blind
i'll find my happiness
i pray to the gods i do
but only once i stop thinking of finding it
is when id find you
you. whom i have poured my heart and soul out to
without giving a rat's ***
one i'm not afraid of - i'm afraid of everything.
you, who is not wearing a mask.
if you tell me that you're right there
id lose all faith in man kind
because i know you're not
i know that now.
if you tell me you wont hurt me
don't say another word
because i know you will hurt me
i know that now.
but i can love myself
i can live for myself, too
i know that now
i don't exactly have to live for you.
it is my life
this is my world
but i'm lonely
because i'm too scared to be that broken hearted girl
the one who cried
the one who swore
and hit her lover
and walked out the door
even if i could
i wouldn't change a thing
because through this mangled heart
i can love true again
someday..
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
This is for my generation.
A generation full of selfies, in short for selfish.
A generation of women murdering their own unborn babies.
Woman walk around half dressed hoping a man will grant them respect.
As they reclaim their lives, renaming it feminism at it's best.
This is for my generation.
A generation of men that rather play with their hands.
Rather than creating work out of their bare hands.
Lusting for women as if we were created for one night stands.
We are the millennials. We're full of worldly distractions.
Looking for our parents to be the lending tree.
Since we spend most of our money on ***** & ****
This is for my generation.
Can't you see we're slowly dying off? We are becoming too self involved.
While every pleasure keeps causing our own demise.
We're too stubborn to realize our ways are flawed.
We mask it and look for love in other people. Yet, we feel emptier when the love isn't reciprocated. Some call this "unrequited love".
This is for my generation.
I'm here to tell you that, you are loved, you are cherished, and you can be forgiven. You can be saved, not by your works or how much money you make.
If you only believe what He did for you on the cross.
The perfect blood Atonement.
We are the Godless generation. Most would say they believe in evolution, perhaps others would mention God.
This is for my generation.
See, Jesus didn't come for the religious people. In fact, he called them frauds. He's more than just a bunch of rules and laws. In reality, He only came to save the lost. Which lead him to be hated, beaten and killed on a cross. 3 days later, He rose from the dead something Allah never did.
Now that our King is risen, He's offering a free gift of salvation. That's why it's called Grace. Being coming Christian doesn't make you perfect, don't get it twisted. I'm just a forgiven sinner by His definition.
The choice is yours.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
Fantasizing
Feeling
Needing
Something scarce is eating at my melancholy.
As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood.
I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips.
My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine.
Unalloyed ecstasy
His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer.
I beg to feel his breathing
For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire.
Slow motion when I fantasize.
A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification.
A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality.
Rarity that comes as one.
He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty.
One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma.
I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs.
The definition of love is embraced through his actions.
Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable.
He makes me feel amity.
He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk.
I can sense him so close,
yet when I open my eyes
I’m alone.
He is what every women searches for.
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:41 PM UTC
I often disregard the fact that people affect me the way they do
whether it be good or bad, I just can't shake the fact that people matter
So I'm really astonished by the fact that good people
or anyone really, are treated badly
Is it that we forget the Golden Rule at a certain age
such as when adolescence hits and our selfishness consumes us
or when things gets so bad that it's depression you can't escape
whatever it maybe, whoever it maybe
don't you think they'd appreciate a little kind-heartedness?
even if it ain't reciprocated,
even if they hate you,
even if they harm you,
look into the core of their soul
and let them know,
how their actions only reflect
how much hurt they have endured
and the fact of the matter is,
that they are loved,
it's ensured
even if they aren't.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
Eid Al Adha;
Eid of Sacrifices
and the celebratory end of Hajj.
Purity abides around their heart
as souls are blessed with the
sown seeds of joy.
Allah hu Akbar;
takbir echoes
as devotees congregate in
every mosque nearby.
They wear embellished clothes,
extending their hearts to one another
and capturing the ecstasy
in every single encounter.
Sentiments are reciprocated,
and gratitude is manifested
on such an occasion
as we recall the origins of the
reason we sacrifice;
and that is to follow the order of Allah,
as Prophet Ibrahim did.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 12:03 PM UTC
The day the ships came my ancestors we not of the aware of the forced melting *** that would come into existence
The combination of french and spanish confused the delta slaves
Little did they know that neither language would stick on their burnt excuses of tongues
The days the ships came New Orleans became the beacon of mulatos
And although the conquistadors could **** and beat their slave wives
Their spanish advances were not reciprocated due to lack of of heat to complete the melting
The languages that conquered the delta were combined into something that no outsider would want to encounter
That’s why the Americans came and took it like they did the rest of the country
They mistake the magic for voodoo then rebranded it for themselves
Centuries later the delta is still a melting ***
But it’s one my grandmother’s tongue was forced to forget
Her languages were lost next to her mulatto slave ancestors, left to spoil
So now when people ask
“If you’re hispanic why can’t you speak spanish?”
I can barely find the words in english to explain the years of torture my tongue has endured
When spanish speaking couples walk into my work
My tongue is eager to spill words it wishes it had the ability to create
My blood begins to hate itself over the fact that a third of itself is unrecognizable
My tongue is still waiting for the new boats to arrive and reconcer it
All it knows is to be conquered
No self defense here
When all you know is to be conquered
It becomes a challenge to think for oneself
My tongue can’t decide if english, spanish or french is better
My creole mind is yelling thousands foreign curse words not knowing which one is a true sin
Maybe the sin here is letting the burner stay on too long
The day the ships came
My slave ancestors looked at their spanish lovers and said
“My love, what shall we do once the french arrive?”
With their eyes looking into the horizon the conquistadors replied
“Es no problema para mi, pero tu, tu es la propiedad de estos”
Which according to simple history books means
“Good luck”
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC
Long days seem so much longer.
Distance does not make the heart grow fonder.
You’ve conquered the empire of my subconscious.
Your crusade so short,
Yet I hope your reign continues for eons.
We’re far past passive flatteries,
Instead, we fill each other’s hearts with vows.
You mean them now,
But what about a few months?
What if you decide I’m not what you want?
The torment I am slowly approaching,
Consumes my distant soul.
I can hear the sounds of futuristic loathing,
From when you decide this love has taken it’s toll.
So tell me.
How can I pay this inevitable toll?
How can I save us from Cupid’s malicious tyranny?
His arrow is too far lodged within me,
I cannot remove it.
I can only push it farther and farther
Into my heart until it falls out of my back.
But this arrow, trenchant.
Cupid, the sharpest of marksmen.
Yet colorblind, he is.
He sees not what colors his targets represent.
He draws his bow for the pure love of marksmanship.
Sometimes, yet not often,
He will hit the intended target.
But the odds are scarce.
His subjects are often punctured,
And connected to one whom reciprocated Fate’s desire.
Yet this time…
This time…
Cupid must have hit a target of Fate’s approval.
For thrice he has missed.
This time He and Fate are in sync.
This wound may stretch over time,
But the arrow shall remain firmly lodged within my *****
***** and immovable.
Until you kick it through my backside.
But until then,
I can only endure.
I can only be woo wounded.
I can only survive,
Another ambush of the militant called Cupid.
But I will do it for you,
For by you,
I’ve been so divinely seduced.
Wooed by your lips.
Not by your kiss,
But by the music,
Which your mandibles so express.
I desire not to seal this wound,
But to evade its’ repercussions.
For I have endured a similar wound thrice.
He is winged as if an angel,
Yet Was Lucifer not once an angel as well?
Cupid is an impostor.
A spy of Agony, himself.
He prays on the young, the old, the strong, and the weak.
He cares not who he obliterates in his crusades.
He is a bloodthirsty heathen.
He makes scoundrels of Saints,
And Harlots of Housewives.
Saint Valentine is no Saint.
He is Satan’s nightmare.
At first, his arrows are ecstasy,
But like a cancer,
His poison-saturated arrows
Seep deep within every crevice of your body.
They consume you as if enriched with ******
And eventually rot within your *****
Until it is nothing but dust and a memory.
One day I will assassinate Fate’s Malicious militant,
The one we call Cupid.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
You're Cute
*And so the verdict was passed,
She liked just a couple of my poems,
I visited her page and reciprocated,
Just like her cuteness was as well in her poems.*
:-)
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
*To pardon my French,
Karma is a *****
A ***** that
Does not exist.
People are never
Rewarded
For good deeds;
Good intentions.
They only suffer
More for them.
Not that
Anything I've done
Was for personal gain.
No.
I am poor.
I am content
To be poor.
My only longing
For monetary gain
Would be to
Support
The ones I love.
My goal in life
Is simple:
Love.
But,
Alas,
Karma is a *****
A ***** that
Does not exist.
Giving love
Gets hate
In return.
I could argue
That I have gained
More people to
Love,
But that is null.
It is never
Reciprocated.
So why do I love?
I cannot help it.
I'm wired that way.
No man,
No woman,
No tragedy,
No act of God
Can change that.
A man of true value
Remains true to the grave.
Karma is a *****
It should be put out of its misery.*
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 12:55 PM UTC
When you were heartbroken
I showered you with affection
I gave you all of my love
I allowed you to forget about all the bad
And start loving your life again
When you felt worthless
I made you feel confident
I reminded you of your beauty
I got you to feel ****
And start loving yourself again
But what you did to me
Was something much different
You drained me of all my love
Made me feel unwanted by you
My efforts were never truly reciprocated
And you gave me up like I was nothing
You made me hate my life
You made it impossible for me
To wake up in the morning
Much less do anything else
You made me hate myself
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
A whole new spiral,
Trees upon a coil,
Ink from leagues,
Written feathers,
Drizzled down as oil,
Evermore,
Nevermore,
Less is more,
All.
Reverse inside-out,
Springs before fall,
Trojan powered horses,
Mother Nature's fickle,
In life we really are all,
Trapped within a pickle...
Steal the base,
Capture the flag,
Always run the risk,
Chess played on a checker board,
Hands turned into fists...
The endless stairs,
Rise & fall,
Chutes & ladders,
Poles,
Elevated,
Reciprocated,
Orbital magnetic pull...
This way,
That way,
Three rights make a left,
Two of either,
Horizontal shift,
Four times,
Stuck in circles...
Full Moon,
Half Moon,
Crescent Moon,
**** cheeks...
Face cheeks,
Two lips,
Uranus,
**** facts...
The Owl asks "Who?"
Not how many licks,
Cracked.
Tongue twister,
Riddle fister,
******* fcking dcks...
Creation.
Destruction.
Under construction,
Living life,
Chasing death,
Don't forget to function...
Playing hooky,
Hooked on phonics,
Telephone,
Hello?
Lose the "O",
Cheerios,
Rolled away,
Hell.
Pacific Bell,
Pack Bell,
Liberty Bell,
Cracked.
Xs,
Os,
Hugs,
Kisses,
Followed crumbs,
Smacked...
Cacophony of words,
Magnified to deaf,
Pantomime,
Mr. Mime,
Jynx,
Hypnotic crest...
Abra,
Kadabra,
Apply directly to the forehead...
Water your brain,
Fertilize,
Extra fries,
Exercise...
A to Z,
1, 2, 3...
F*cking A,
We say...
Today is here,
The end is near,
All come here to stay...
Escape rope untethered,
Weather altered sky day.
Gaze at stars,
Hollywood floor,
Rich,
Poor,
More...
Life is great,
Life is crap,
You decide,
Not me...
Cause all I see,
Is cacophony...
No sense inside of "we"...
Here we are,
We've come so far,
RELAX...
Have fun at last...
Half full,
Half empty,
Shattered...
At least we have the glass......
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
daily provisioning
wallet watch testicles spectacles
cash (single bills) cell phone
bottle of water hairbrush with vanity attached,
personal technology baggie
(earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.)
loose change in order to fall from pockets & annoy yourself
sunglasses (idiot! summers half over) and something else...
pocket tissues!
skin and bone, muscle, all flavors and multilayers,
a language of music only you hear,
the pumping station internal, the gaga motion
product of the palette of body following souled emotions,
the antacid pills after that burrito;
and that strangely named thang called
libido?
your teeth your smile, your shyest guile,
to catch that lady’s hopefully.
reciprocated pearly whites delight,
pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad,
a Swiss Army knife if the tube or bus
should (will) breakdown,
your tiny little bottles of
inspiration perspiration and perspective,
that you forgot to
label
the list to do and the list
to add to the to do list
and good heavens,
a serious writing utensil
to fool yourself when
thinking serious thoughts like
these
the last but should be first,
the house keys!!
keys just an enabler
to do it all again
tomorrow
July 11, 2018 10:22pm
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
But I remain a believer in my ancestral religion
Whose God is wele but not the Germany world, it is a religion,
Like most of universal ancestral ones,
With appalling moral threshold,
When Elijah Masinde of dini ya Misambwa
Despised those who condemned man as notoriously religious
He meant human religious approach to life is absolute in nature
However diverse religions compete for human ears
Rich ones glorified in the luring away of modal ears
But all are devoid of spiritual impetus
Disappointing the progenitors of religious imperialism
These short-cutters in matters of sanctimony
Will not come to our heaven
They will get me sharing a cup of tea
With my sister- in-law; Mary, the mother of Jesus
And I will shun them, I will not know them
I will not invite them to a heavenly cup of tea
They will be suffocated by cadaverous appetite,
For we honor our religion with ancestral regard;
The Faith of Our Ancestors
But in ridicule they call us kaffirs, pagans, christo-pagans,
Animists, atheists, gentiles, non-believers, mediumists,
Rebellious rebels or whatsoever they call us;
The anti-muhamedan-mis-christologists,
Let them delude themselves,
If they disparage us with sick contumely
Abreast the dumbfounding development in sciences
Plus so fortuitous humanistic awareness,
Humanity in Religion has to adjust optimally
Religious masters have to help
Interpret the religious Books, bible, gita, quran
All Written or verbalistically in the glory of epical orality
In tandem with the best centered
Life extant,
Otherwise selfish religions becomes an old wine bag
With its old and stale wine,
You will persuade Russian carousers to drink
But to your chagrin, none will condone, your stale wine
Do not seek to sell your faith
Because every human community
Has an ancestral faith
Respect them all for that is gods in their accolade of
Omonipresecence,
Any man or woman without religion is dangerous
But do not advantagize yourselves
At the expense of people of other faiths
It is good you reciprocated
Planet earth is our only sure and known abode
If we lived well here, and there is another world
For those who will be good, we hope the conclave of Gods
Would all sit in judgment for their credit
And reward those who helped humble humanity
Of their religions as well as those of other religions
As for all the Gods love humanists.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
Do I want to kiss you
Because I actually like you
Or I just feel out of control?
I tend to be self-destructive
When nothing in life is going well
And I don't want to drag you into this
I brought up never having drunk kissed someone
Our friend said we should do it
And the idea just stuck in my head
I didn't think it'd be a reciprocated feeling
Because I can't imagine you thinking of me that way
But drunk me decided to offer
Just to let you know I was thinking it
You said you were surprised
I'm not sure why but that's ok
You also said you might accept the offer
But it depends
On what I'm not sure
I just hope it's not awkward at work tomorrow
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
We're two puzzle pieces trying to fit together perfectly
Secretly hoping that my curves and your angles fit together snugly
Except you can never put a square inside of the circle hole on the children's toys
And you can never put a circle in the square hole.
So you whisper sweet nothings in my ear hoping that your love will be reciprocated
Like a lost puppy looking for a home
Crying out for the love it needs to survive.
And I give what I can
but my love isn't quite what you were wanting
You try to drown your sorrows and pain
forgetting that your a puzzle piece
Leaving your edges torn and tattered
I hold you close trying to fix all the damage
But I'm no puzzle maker
You seemed to have forgotten
That we fit together perfectly
Because your head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck
And your arm fits perfectly around my shoulders
Even though the curve of your lips doesn't quite match up with mine
Don't think for a second that I won't hold you close while you try to mend a broken heart.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
she sat in her room,
in front of her broken window.
the glass was tinted black.
the metal frame was starting to rust.
the bottom left corner of the window,
was shattered.
shattered by what?
shattered by her fist,
2 years ago.
she could still see,
her blood stains at the ridges.
she sat there on the cold ground,
her hand holding her screams.
she wanted to let everyone hear,
and know,
that she wanted some love,
some attention,
some words of advice.
so she screamed out of that broken window,
but no one heard her.
she sat there on the stone ground,
her hand holding her heart.
she wanted to let everyone see,
and know,
that she wanted someone to understand,
someone to love her,
someone to kiss her cuts.
so she threw it out of that broken window,
but no one saw her.
she sat there on the blood stained ground,
her hand holding her soul.
she wanted to let everyone feel,
and know,
that she wanted her dreams to come true,
her wishes to be fulfilled,
her love to be reciprocated.
so she let it out of that broken window,
but no one felt her.
she sat there on the tear stained ground,
her hand holding herself,
she wanted everyone to smell,
and know,
that her hair smelled like rose and lilies,
that her clothes smelled like lemon and rosemary,
that her skin smelled like strawberries and cream.
so she freed herself out that broken window,
but no one smelled her.
she sat there on the heartless ground,
her hand holding her dreams,
she wanted everyone to taste,
and know,
that her favorite food was marshmallows,
that her sweet tooth loved chocolate,
that her kisses tasted like the sun.
so she said goodbye to her dreams out that broken window.
but no one tasted her.
no one cared.
{gemi}
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
You ask me how brave I am
And I responded with certainty,
“I am brave enough to love deeply
And be foolish in the eyes of many
For I only love and hurt alone.”
I am in love with a young man
Whose courage can never be compared
He makes me fearless; shameless even
Making me dive into this love of mine
Without even thinking if it may be reciprocated
I dared to reach a star like him
Though in the sky, he resides
I dared to go beyond this love
Crossing seas to get a glimpse of him
And now I’m finally close to my dear
Again, you ask me how brave I am
And I looked at you with woeful eyes,
“I am brave enough to let you break me
And let you ****** a dagger into my heart
For you don’t see me the way I see you.
But how brave are you really, love?”
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC
you said love is hard when it's not reciprocated.
(i blinked)
you said it hurts looking at her from the outside in
and that you're tired of being on the sidelines
(i held my breath)
you told me your heart breaks a little,
when she can't take her eyes off him
yet here you are, begging God
for her to spare you a glance - just one.
(my throat tightened)
you said you're lucky to have me,
as your best friend
and i remember exactly how i faked a smile.
that smile was probably the biggest lie i ever told.
and then you asked,
"why do we fall in love with people we can't have?"
(i looked away)
"how do you handle this?"
i inhaled sharply, as i held back my tears;
"i'll show you how."
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
She hopes, silently, that he will chase her,
catch her in his embrace and smother her
with feverish kisses.
He wants to glance back, towards the stinging
sun, towards the opposite direction she has stayed in
and beacon her with words of licorice.
She wishes to let her voice drown the antagonistic
opposition to their current disposition and listen
attentively to reciprocated admissions.
But they cannot, will not, because
this is not a fairy tale, this is not a fantasy, this
is the sad reality of both decisions.
And so torn apart between letting go or
catching to,
they walk away towards opposite directions.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
The experience of a black woman is one that can not be imitated
Although it is not always enough or even always reciprocated
Her heart is full of love, almost bursting out of her chest
And even when it gets tough, the black woman always tries her best
She longs for an equal who shares her level of intellect
Someone to listen to all her problems and attempt to put them in retrospect
The black woman often fears sharing any of her thoughts
For fear of being labeled the angry black woman, which she’s heard lots
Some black men refuse to date a black woman because of her attitude
But thank you to those strong black men that show them so much gratitude
Sometimes the black woman confidently wears her hair natural
The time she takes to detangle each curl is truly admirable
Other times she doubts her beauty as she is surrounded by Eurocentric guidelines
Men gawk at the beauty of those with straight long hair as she stands on the sidelines
Sometimes the black woman adores all of her god given features
But when she sees the women men covet she feels like an ugly creature
The black woman comes in all different sizes, shapes, and color
And instead of black women competing with one another
They must stand together and see the beauty in being black
So that they can truly understand that beauty is not something that they lack
My sisters, all of my black sisters, thank you for making me feel so human
Because no one understands the experience of black woman like a black woman.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
With all his World pulling him back,still
He left for the other side one fine morning,
He was a traveler and that's the best he could be.
With hunger and thirst ruling all the way
he did not give up to seek something that
can fill his emptiness that he felt being in
the middle of everyone with everything.
With wandering eyes he saw the world like
a baby bird first opened it's eyes getting surprised
at every steps he took,everywhere he went.
But one day while wandering here and there
he met a beautiful girl somewhere at the corner
of the earth and immediately fell for her charming beauty,
her mesmerizing lips,her integrity and grasp over making
dull things into attracting events.
He spoke out his heart to her and started to get
closer and closer and he was reciprocated likewise.
Even she got drawn to him hearing his mind blowing
Stories of traveling the world alone.
Every thing was so perfect,but here comes the traveler
into act and defeats the lover and said to himself-
"Oh dear lover,I have still got to see so much world
around ,dont stuck to her.lets leave,thats how you started
from and thats what you are,make yourself free and
make the journey to the unseen,you can not stay with her"
With every possible love existing inside him,he
Chooses to go.He knew this could be his lifetime
spending with this lady but he has to leave now.
But the unseen world keeps more joy for him
than to sink into this never ending beauty, and finally
he decides to go.
I dont know whether they met again or not.
but I say when and how can a true lover
and an honest traveler co exist?
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Dear Women,
If you’re wondering why he’s no longer texting you it’s probably because when he was, He felt like he was the one putting in all the effort he’s the one that sent the good morning and good night text first. He is the one that would ask you how your day was he would specifically check on that one thing you told him you were doing today. It is not because he has all the time in the world and he has nothing better to do he’s busy with his own things he made the conscious decision to make time for you only when he saw over and over again that his efforts were not being reciprocated that he decided to leave.
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Nov 24, 2022
Nov 24, 2022 at 3:02 AM UTC
His claim he staked, the mallard drake
Beside a little pond
Two female ducks were round about
They would return anon
He watched me work all morning
A feather he would preen or peck
I reciprocated his respect
And studiously ignored him
He was content until I went
A bit too close for comfort
His head and neck he laid down low
His movements they were slow
As if to bid the executioner
Or will the grass to grow
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 8:28 AM UTC
Philosophical epistemology strumming adventures
Albeit, coherent mental decoding stratifications structured
Supposedly our world rests in our minds, revolving knowledge
An entwine of conceptual abstract flowing within oneself
The mind in the “I” the “I” a reality lived in my experiences
George of Leontini, a mine mind approving solipsism exploring innatism
Imaginative insights that nothing exists, the secrets secreting secrets
The knowledge behind the veils that remains un-communicated
A reverse of normality and known existences, moral disposition
Hypothesis of depersonalizations, adventures of self internalization
Justifications for what lies outside the Medulla Oblongata
Skepticism and just alternatives to western philosophy
Subjective unapproved experiences only robust in one’s mind
Descartes abstraction of inner experiences, reciprocated paradigm
Intuitively, perceived lived formulations of "Cogito Ergo Sum"
Psychological conscious undoubted individualistic thoughts
Berkley explored perspectives that physicality is an embodiment of the mind
The mind a decoding visualizer, that encompass the non-existent
An idealism marriage of ‘metaphysical’ and epistemological philosophy
The intense esoteric “dualism” verses the fiery “monism” reality
Mind boggling differentiated truths bleeding with blinking unresolvable hypothesis
The jiggered methodological, streamlining the un -logic sequential beats
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Boring and rude?
That's a rich call, coming from you!
But rude I'll concede,
Given the circumstances -
You pester me with calls and texts,
And invade my private domain,
And won't listen when I say, "No" -
What would you expect?
That I'd be grateful towards
A drunken lush intruding my peace?
That I'd be receptive to a needy egoism
More entrenched than Catholic Dogma?
No, that is not my way - No!
You can get f**ked! And I told you -
I had to spend an hour
Convincing you I wasn't interested;
That your infatuation wasn't reciprocated;
That, when you're drunk, you're not worth knowing;
That I've heard of your glory days
And your present travails a million times;
That you can't offer me what I need -
A decent conversation, nor a decent *******
And I told you - I didn't pull punches;
I didn't lie - I wasn't playing games.
I told you in no uncertain terms
And you didn't like my Truths -
Perhaps they touched a nerve?
Rude? Sure, maybe I was,
But there was no other way
To sink these facts through your alcoholic haze.
As for boring - I'll not concede boring.
I may not lead an exciting life,
But boring? No - anything ****
You've a hide, when every conversation
Begins with an "I", "Me" or "My";
Anyone would think the World revolves around you!
You take egocentricism to a new level;
So self-involved and hard-done-by,
You feel the need to inflict yourself on others.
Adios, me amiga!
And, Hola, me Amigos!
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC