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"recital" poems
My mother should be an author She carves her soul into millions of pieces Leaving it behind all of the family photos When I see my mother I see a woman Who wants to hide her soul in a needle Just so the screaming can stop in her mind, These bottles are rattling in the living room You see they have put shackles on her heart, She can't love anymore Without having ***** in her water bottle. Where is she hiding her beer? I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields My mother used to take me to. You know she always wasn't like this She was strong minded and had a big heart Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites To the ****** Mary’s. Let's rewind time See how to **** the soul in ten years 10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore 9- I refused to bail her out of jail again Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again 8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play, My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother? 7- I had to hold my mothers hand Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol 6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again 5- My mother throws the bottle across the room And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic 4- My mother overslept for my piano recital, I didn't think it was a big deal But I remember she spent the whole night crying With a wine glass in her hand. 3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle 2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day why are you taking 6? 1- My mother went to the doctor Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis I don't know what that means, But I know she will still be strong right? 0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday. I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself
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Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
How To **** The Soul In 10 Years
My mother should be an author She carves her soul into millions of pieces Leaving it behind all of the family photos When I see my mother I see a woman Who wants to hide her soul in a needle Just so the screaming can stop in her mind, These bottles are rattling in the living room You see they have put shackles on her heart, She can't love anymore Without having ***** in her water bottle. Where is she hiding her beer? I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields My mother used to take me to. You know she always wasn't like this She was strong minded and had a big heart Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites To the ****** Mary’s. Let's rewind time See how to **** the soul in ten years 10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore 9- I refused to bail her out of jail again Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again 8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play, My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother? 7- I had to hold my mothers hand Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol 6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again 5- My mother throws the bottle across the room And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic 4- My mother overslept for my piano recital, I didn't think it was a big deal But I remember she spent the whole night crying With a wine glass in her hand. 3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle 2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day why are you taking 6? 1- My mother went to the doctor Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis I don't know what that means, But I know she will still be strong right? 0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday. I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself
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47
He lives in a cold and empty house Where lightbulbs hang from silver chains And lonely ghosts live within The cracking, creaking wooden walls He leaves out his favorite books for them And listens to footsteps beneath the floorboards He plays piano, a reclusive recital for empty rooms And they keep each other's soft-spoken secrets
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Ghosts
TRIGGER WARNING They met at a dance recital. His eerie blue eyes watched her, stalked her, riveted by sinewy skin and the way her legs stretched and parted skillfully, seductively: she knew how to captivate her audience. They had mutual friends. Her curiosity thirsted for more, for she had been taken over by an empty lust, broken by another, but the way he spoke: she felt as pretty as his charms sounded. They went on a date. He kissed her, pinched her, and spread those legs that comprised his fantasies, not caring about the bruises he left when he took off her lacey coverings, pinning her to the floor. They learned more about each other. She saw the empty, carnal look in his eyes, but her pleas and shoves were not enough to lessen the weight of him, to push his hands or his hips away, as he broke her over and over again. They ended the night with a kiss. He grabbed her face like a starving man grabs his first meal, forcing an intimacy she could never get back, but he said, “You liked it, didn’t you.” They kept in touch. She tried blocking his calls, his messages, asking her if she’d come over to his place. Like the continuous force he prodded her with, the pounding in her head beat out a thumping heart-line of no’s.
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
Acquaintance ****
Crescent orb radiates its crystalline sight, languid lips coalesce like a tessellation, the vexing vines wilder the incandescent- glimmer but the burning impression remains. Celestial bodies affixes a soliloquy amongst- a halcyon tongue that revelate a rhapsodic- episode. Quiescent ambience rings a plethora of- sentiments stinging on the mellifluous lullaby. The lithe wildflower murmurs- the euphonious recital of a sonnet that- is unacquainted to the mind. Luminous assemblies of fireflies retire- behind the myriad of evergreen forest as the insouciance wildflower approach. Precocious primrose locked from the scorching sensation of a wildflower exhibited a lassitude facade like a - waning lantern fiery on its final residues. In the distant a wildflower and in the presence, an idyllic primrose: so scarce and so strange.
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Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC
Exuberance Aflamed
Assert confidence in a convincing recital Claim certainty that protection is binding safety is paramount a rehearsed amount until she takes it on ethics every truth is there to detect A battle for reason until potential yields to the objective Loyalty isn't just imagination Fate constructed in a noiseless dialogue momentary eye contact pencil hits paper Smoke and vapor Fire comes later an unsurpassed honor All the letters weve written are a smear on the page of occasion Resulting in endless treasure Only to be rediscovered When the omission is uncovered
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
Noiseless Dialouge
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
0
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
Iconoclasm
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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26
From a young age I knew there was a man and a woman out there, complete strangers, who were, biologically, my grandparents. I knew my chances of meeting them were exactly zero to none. The parents who took my dad home that day were his parents And that was done. Before me sat a grandmother, and the spirit of a grandfather passed, who loved me more than any stranger-grandparent ever could who was there for every dance recital, every holiday, every mistake, every success who, though I bore no resemblance, watched me grow right before her eyes who swore the Easter bunny left treats at her house for me-- even when I was beyond the years of belief. Always wearing a  sweatsuit and gold stud earrings, with an added neck-scarf and red lip for special occasions. Telling tales of the "poor dear" animal she saw Dead on the side of the road-- Sad enough, you'd think it was her own. Church every Sunday and the shirt off her back, Had you asked. This woman I explain Shares no blood, but, a surname. I love her just the same If not more Than any grandmother Genetics had in store. She's a part of who I am, though not in my DNA. Nature versus Nurture: Nurture wins again. She taught me: Strength, grace, humility, selflessness, generosity, and patience Without sharing one biological thread By example she lead And I continue to follow In her footsteps.
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Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
Grandma Genetics
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
Iconoclasm Epithet
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
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26
My school work has prevented Me from being able to do Any yoga lately And I feel like crap A long day of school over Then volleyball. Piano lessons Or voice lessons Or a recital Or an audition or a festival (Which I should be having fun with But I don't because all I can think about Is the work I have afterwards.) I finish late at night Try to cram in some social medias I go to bed wicked late. Then no time to even be clean Until today I swear I hadn't taken A shower in at least 3 days And in the morning In so tired I can't even Get ready on time and I'm late for school Or miss the bus Or have to Sprint to the bus There's no time to do my yoga Or anything else for that matter Because of school And it goes like this again Everyday during the week...
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Homework
What exactly does closure feel like? I'm not really sure because the days I felt my first heartache like a bullet to my chest I cried for a week straight then got over it- I had so many friends, I never cared to love again. I was never really sure how to close the open door the day my grandma died my mind went blank. So I drank away the pain until the images of her cancer ridden body faded away. How do you cope when at the same time you see your grandmother die you remember these horrors from your childhood of someone ripping away your innocence. I haven't been the same since. So now what's left? I have left the one I love with a heavy heart and no closure to console me. I just feel as if I am drifting slowly and without a lifeboat no paddle in merky waters with a windstorm that won't quit. But I feel at peace like the calm before the storm that realizes it will be sunny one day again soon. So how will closure console this empty soul? I've never really felt that feeling before. Closure is a ******* step child to me- just an extra sock that can't find a match. A newly lit match burning out too fast never to be used again. A bowl filled with resin when all you need is one ******* hit. Closure is a seesaw with no one at the other end to help- you're on your own adventure and you only venture from the usual path. It's a road you walk alone- barefoot upon rocks that have been shaped from struggle. Closure is the progression into solitude. So how do I get closure from you? How do these hands feel okay again not holding on to yours- how does my bed feel whole again without you next to me. I'm not sure quite yet- but one day I will see. Closure is an empty room before a dance recital it's a preconcert soundcheck and everyday anxiety. The nights are worse than the days and I've come to grips with feeling this way. I hope one day to feel okay. I know one day I will feel okay- because today, I feel pretty okay.
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
Closer to Closure.
What exactly does closure feel like? I'm not really sure because the days I felt my first heartache like a bullet to my chest I cried for a week straight then got over it- I had so many friends, I never cared to love again. I was never really sure how to close the open door the day my grandma died my mind went blank. So I drank away the pain until the images of her cancer ridden body faded away. How do you cope when at the same time you see your grandmother die you remember these horrors from your childhood of someone ripping away your innocence. I haven't been the same since. So now what's left? I have left the one I love with a heavy heart and no closure to console me. I just feel as if I am drifting slowly and without a lifeboat no paddle in merky waters with a windstorm that won't quit. But I feel at peace like the calm before the storm that realizes it will be sunny one day again soon. So how will closure console this empty soul? I've never really felt that feeling before. Closure is a ******* step child to me- just an extra sock that can't find a match. A newly lit match burning out too fast never to be used again. A bowl filled with resin when all you need is one ******* hit. Closure is a seesaw with no one at the other end to help- you're on your own adventure and you only venture from the usual path. It's a road you walk alone- barefoot upon rocks that have been shaped from struggle. Closure is the progression into solitude. So how do I get closure from you? How do these hands feel okay again not holding on to yours- how does my bed feel whole again without you next to me. I'm not sure quite yet- but one day I will see. Closure is an empty room before a dance recital it's a preconcert soundcheck and everyday anxiety. The nights are worse than the days and I've come to grips with feeling this way. I hope one day to feel okay. I know one day I will feel okay- because today, I feel pretty okay.
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57
you say i love you like it was some kind of recitation and i was fool enough to listen till the end of the recital
0
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
Untitled
I need you. These words are true, but it's hard for me to put them in a sentence. I can't say them out loud because that would mean that I depend on you. I want to get to know you. But I forget that I can't get close to someone who's never there. I wish I could go to ball games with you. I wish I could have looked out into the audience in the middle of a recital and see your face in the crowd. I wish I could see the same look on your face that they do. You always look so proud when you talk to them, talk about them and even when you look at them. Especially when you talk about the one that got away. You praise her. Even after everything that's happened you're still proud of her. I wish I had that. I wish I could see that radiating smile of yours and know that it's for me too. For something that I've done that you were so unbelievably proud of. I know I'm not yours, not really. I know that you're trying your best. I understand that it's not easy with three kids in the house. I also know that it's harder because I'm older than she was when you first got her, and I'm older than the kids are now. I try to make you proud, I really do. I study for every test and hand in every homework assignment. I await the scores so I can run home and tell you what they are. After telling you the news you always have the same stern look on your face. I feel as if I'm never good enough. I even got a job and am trying to learn the value of money. I try to be smart. Sometimes you say I'm not, and just to prove you wrong I try to impress you by telling you useless facts. But it still doesn't seem to be good enough. Is it because I'm too boring, too loud, too girly, too lazy, or because I spend too much time on tumblr? Is it because I don't look like the rest of you? Is it because... I'm nothing like she was? I know that she was your baby girl. I know that you'll always hold a special place for her in your heart. But I was second. Doesn't that count for something? Maybe you actually are proud of me. Maybe I'm just over analyzing this like I do everything else. Maybe... Just maybe. But I've still never seen it. I've never seen that radiating smile that they've all seen... Oh how I'd **** to see it.
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Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
I Need You
I need you. These words are true, but it's hard for me to put them in a sentence. I can't say them out loud because that would mean that I depend on you. I want to get to know you. But I forget that I can't get close to someone who's never there. I wish I could go to ball games with you. I wish I could have looked out into the audience in the middle of a recital and see your face in the crowd. I wish I could see the same look on your face that they do. You always look so proud when you talk to them, talk about them and even when you look at them. Especially when you talk about the one that got away. You praise her. Even after everything that's happened you're still proud of her. I wish I had that. I wish I could see that radiating smile of yours and know that it's for me too. For something that I've done that you were so unbelievably proud of. I know I'm not yours, not really. I know that you're trying your best. I understand that it's not easy with three kids in the house. I also know that it's harder because I'm older than she was when you first got her, and I'm older than the kids are now. I try to make you proud, I really do. I study for every test and hand in every homework assignment. I await the scores so I can run home and tell you what they are. After telling you the news you always have the same stern look on your face. I feel as if I'm never good enough. I even got a job and am trying to learn the value of money. I try to be smart. Sometimes you say I'm not, and just to prove you wrong I try to impress you by telling you useless facts. But it still doesn't seem to be good enough. Is it because I'm too boring, too loud, too girly, too lazy, or because I spend too much time on tumblr? Is it because I don't look like the rest of you? Is it because... I'm nothing like she was? I know that she was your baby girl. I know that you'll always hold a special place for her in your heart. But I was second. Doesn't that count for something? Maybe you actually are proud of me. Maybe I'm just over analyzing this like I do everything else. Maybe... Just maybe. But I've still never seen it. I've never seen that radiating smile that they've all seen... Oh how I'd **** to see it.
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43
you sat on the piano bench and i sat on the floor we talked about our fathers we shared our lonely childhoods broken bones, broken hearts i decided i could listen to your voice for hours you told me you wanted to be a pianist and i offered to teach you guitar i played stevie nicks for you and you said you didn't sing but your voice is beautiful and i wish you'd sing for me you told me about the songs you like and i went home and made a playlist it's four months later and i have every song memorized in alphabetical order you told me you didn't believe in love but i know real love and i know forced "love" and i know i've loved you since that day in september when you told me i had beautiful handwriting and i'll never forget how you looked at me instead of the paper when the words drifted through the stuffy third-floor air and i didn't even know your name so for now i listen to your songs on repeat and look forward to tomorrow i just wish i'd kissed you that evening of the recital on that ****** piano bench
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Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
piano bench
I had once herd a tale of both gooblins and goblins that hide by the house on the hill full of robins where no cats would lie not a feline in site in that case nor a horse and toboggan If when the sun set by your luck you'd have met a most suddenly sense, you'll most likely regret to inform that the norm is is most vital a chorus recital while sleeping, the feeling is seeping of course,   he fears for the reaping To come? Is it done? has it happened? No third party captions his captor a mind full of rapture to hear ever after a rapping, a tapping his own hands just clapping the door doesn't move but the grooves in the wall are expanding these dreams so demanding Demented dimensions his body retention of fear and the queer have him panting gasps without asking a sublime such as this and the temperance of bliss have the curtains been called or is it all but a miss guided ventures of vengeance His soul but a remnance of courage is left in the depths and before us he slept such a man who believes in trees where the robins at ease do enjoy such a breeze That breath air in the room where he lay quite awake Till his wake
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Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
The doubt
This spiteful poem has no title. That doesn't mean it's not entitled to a title it just means, it hasn't got one. It's not in any way vital to title a poem is it? Without a title, would a rival thieve the poem? Without a title, it means there is no subject matter. Does that matter? I guess at a recital a title helps, it introduces the poem to an audience. Let's face it, the poem is not going to get suicidal if I don't give it a title! It's not going to go all homicidal, suicidal, or self harm. Will it sue me for libel? Am I being frightful? I think it's delightful that this poem has no title. Maybe, what I should have titled this poem, was "Poet being idle".
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
This poem has no title
i played my recital piece for a man and his daughter and the man told me "there's hope in that piece" and it got me thinking that maybe just maybe if i can find the hope in my music i can find hope in me
0
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
flute
In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful. ************************************ **************** 1. I do call to witness the Resurrection Day; 2. And I do call to witness the self-reproaching spirit: (Eschew Evil) . 3. Does man think that We cannot assemble his bones? 4. Nay, We are able to put together in perfect order the very tips of his fingers. 5. But man wishes to do wrong (even) in the time in front of him. 6. He questions: 'When is the Day of Resurrection? ' 7. At length, when the sight is dazed, 8. And the moon is buried in darkness. 9. And the sun and moon are joined together, - 10. That Day will Man say: 'Where is the refuge? ' 11. By no means! No place of safety! 12. Before thy Lord (alone) , that Day will be the place of rest. 13. That Day will Man be told (all) that he put forward, and all that he put back. 14. Nay, man will be evidence against himself, 15. Even though he were to put up his excuses. 16. Move not thy tongue concerning the (Qur'an) to make haste therewith. 17. It is for Us to collect it and to promulgate it: 18. But when We have promulgated it, follow thou its recital (as promulgated) : 19. Nay more, it is for Us to explain it (and make it clear) : 20. Nay, (ye men!) but ye love the fleeting life, 21. And leave alone the Hereafter. 22. Some faces, that Day, will beam (in brightness and beauty) : - 23. Looking towards their Lord; 24. And some faces, that Day, will be sad and dismal, 25. In the thought that some back-breaking calamity was about to be inflicted on them; 26. Yea, when (the soul) reaches to the collar-bone (in its exit) , 27. And there will be a cry, 'Who is a magician (to restore him) ? ' 28. And he will conclude that it was (the Time) of Parting; 29. And one leg will be joined with another: 30. That Day the Drive will be (all) to thy Lord! 31. So he gave nothing in charity, nor did he pray! - 32. But on the contrary, he rejected Truth and turned away! 33. Then did he stalk to his family in full conceit! 34. Woe to thee, (O men!) , yea, woe! 35. Again, Woe to thee, (O men!) , yea, woe! 36. Does man think that he will be left uncontrolled, (without purpose) ? 37. Was he not a drop of ***** emitted (in lowly form) ? 38. Then did he become a leech-like clot; then did ((Allah)) make and fashion (him) in due proportion. 39. And of him He made two sexes, male and female. 40. Has not He, (the same) , the power to give life to the dead?
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
- -Quran 75. The Rising Of The Dead, Resurrection- -
In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful. ************************************ **************** 1. I do call to witness the Resurrection Day; 2. And I do call to witness the self-reproaching spirit: (Eschew Evil) . 3. Does man think that We cannot assemble his bones? 4. Nay, We are able to put together in perfect order the very tips of his fingers. 5. But man wishes to do wrong (even) in the time in front of him. 6. He questions: 'When is the Day of Resurrection? ' 7. At length, when the sight is dazed, 8. And the moon is buried in darkness. 9. And the sun and moon are joined together, - 10. That Day will Man say: 'Where is the refuge? ' 11. By no means! No place of safety! 12. Before thy Lord (alone) , that Day will be the place of rest. 13. That Day will Man be told (all) that he put forward, and all that he put back. 14. Nay, man will be evidence against himself, 15. Even though he were to put up his excuses. 16. Move not thy tongue concerning the (Qur'an) to make haste therewith. 17. It is for Us to collect it and to promulgate it: 18. But when We have promulgated it, follow thou its recital (as promulgated) : 19. Nay more, it is for Us to explain it (and make it clear) : 20. Nay, (ye men!) but ye love the fleeting life, 21. And leave alone the Hereafter. 22. Some faces, that Day, will beam (in brightness and beauty) : - 23. Looking towards their Lord; 24. And some faces, that Day, will be sad and dismal, 25. In the thought that some back-breaking calamity was about to be inflicted on them; 26. Yea, when (the soul) reaches to the collar-bone (in its exit) , 27. And there will be a cry, 'Who is a magician (to restore him) ? ' 28. And he will conclude that it was (the Time) of Parting; 29. And one leg will be joined with another: 30. That Day the Drive will be (all) to thy Lord! 31. So he gave nothing in charity, nor did he pray! - 32. But on the contrary, he rejected Truth and turned away! 33. Then did he stalk to his family in full conceit! 34. Woe to thee, (O men!) , yea, woe! 35. Again, Woe to thee, (O men!) , yea, woe! 36. Does man think that he will be left uncontrolled, (without purpose) ? 37. Was he not a drop of ***** emitted (in lowly form) ? 38. Then did he become a leech-like clot; then did ((Allah)) make and fashion (him) in due proportion. 39. And of him He made two sexes, male and female. 40. Has not He, (the same) , the power to give life to the dead?
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we were alone in the dark behind those pitch black curtains and I silently watch you play the piano. even though it was dim and I could hardly make your face, I could see you beaming with a smile, surprised because you still remember the recital your teacher taught you six years ago. you're just a boy who spends most of his weekends in lounges and bars, playing pool and shooting endless smoke rings from your mouth like a thousand secrets. tossing bottles of cheap alcohol, causing it to spill out like unspoken words pouring out of your tired mouth. but when I'm sitting beside you, watching you pound away on the piano, I don't see you as the guy who picked a fight with a tattooed guy in the club. instead, I let the notes of the piano capture my emotions and I can't help but wonder if you play the guitar or maybe the drums, too. I so badly want to talk to you, but I prefer to stay as strangers. I like it better when I don't know you, some things are just better left unknown and I prefer to stay curious and interested. I'd rather watch you giggle to yourself as your fingers slipped in between a recital. I'd rather exchange shy smiles and glances in the hallway. now don't get me wrong,  I so badly want to talk to you, but I can't articulate my thoughts when those playful fingers are tracing secrets into my thighs.
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
piano
You were the Barbie jeep engineer. You were the 5-card pinochle player. You were the gripe to do the dishes. You were the patient mall bench sitter. You were Elvis Presley records and paper backed crime novels. You were my new antivirus software. You were the chatter in the middle of an NCIS episode. You were the "It's okay, sweetie" on the other end of the phone. You were the voice of every bathtime storybook. You were the baking soda on my first wasp sting. You were the green Ford Escort parked outside my middle school every afternoon. You were the loudest clap at my graduation. You were the sticky caramel corn crumbs in the living room that held the place together. You were the laughter You were the toolkit when my pictures hung crooked. You were the cornerback baker, the pecan pie maker, dance recital seat saver and the road trip driver. You were the puppy-dog pill-giver and the broken heart mender. You were the church goer and the goodness seeker. You were the black-haired teaser and the very best secret keeper. You were a prideful wig wearer and wheelchair rider. You were a cancer fighter. You were my first call. You still are.
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Why I Wear Your Fingerprint
In my vicinity there is A garden so green Monsoons Winters and Summers All do agree A walking track Joggers track Yoga corner A gymming area along the track Everyone seems to be enjoying Early morning enthusiasts and Late bloomers all love the place A poetry recital Corner An occasional artist Capturing the beauty of the place Conversations of the Elderly Reliving memories from Back in the day The children in the play area Going Merry-go-round And sliding , happy and gay With A canopy of trees Sheltering the track Come Summers The trees bearing flowers in bloom Purple orange pink And Most special of All A yellow so Mellow (Indian Laburnum) Leaving no trace of green Cascading in delicate blooms With A granite seat placed Beneath A feeling so divine A favourite of mine !!
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Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
Trees
I do not like my state of mind; I'm bitter, querulous, unkind. I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands. I dread the dawn's recurrent light; I hate to go to bed at night. I snoot at simple, earnest folk. I cannot take the gentlest joke. I find no peace in paint or type. My world is but a lot of tripe. I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted. For what I think, I'd be arrested. I am not sick, I am not well. My quondam dreams are shot to hell. My soul is crushed, my spirit sore; I do not like me any more. I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse. I ponder on the narrow house. I shudder at the thought of men.... I'm due to fall in love again.
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2.1k
Symptom Recital
“into the women-coloured twilight” from Post Impressions (VI)   by E. E. ******* *there is a woman here who seeded in a ‘darling,’ awhile ago, thinking it passed unnoticed but wax polished and jewelry bag separate kept placed in a soft Etsy silken purse suitable for holding precious iou’s, vision her in the fields picking up the fragrance of bulbs from soil, now scented upon a working woman's gloves, arrival timed, in the woman-colored twilight of e.e.’s woman, knowing she will be both prepared and unprepared, perhaps for my recital, certainly, my comings unexpected* she knows I come with no singularity or multi-purpose, except to complete this poem with proper decorum, decorum properly undefined, but how many fictitious poems scribbled in between the living days, in plastic bags to keep, till a grounded definition is someday procured April 2019
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 7:47 PM UTC
“into the women-coloured twilight”
Why am I so angry?...... What the **** do you think your doing?! Take your eyes off of your phone for two seconds and take a look around you... Take your focus off the church for one minute and look at the people around you.... Your gaining all the wrong people and pushing away the ones that have always been for you.... I guess that's why I'm so angry.. I got a txt from you today: "I really do care about your life grace. Just Don't leave me in the dust" - Dad Don't leave me in the dust???? ARE YOU ******* KIDDING ME?!?! Yeah sure your one to talk dad.... "I don't just push people away for no reason"- Grace Your a ******* joke. C'mon dad werent you the one that taught me to be there for eachother?? I'm so tired of being the only one that's there for somebody in this relationship... Going to all your shows, even your practices ... **** You can't even come to one GOD **** SHOW!!! You never came to one swim meet.. Not one dance recital... Not one talent show.... Not one... Then you have the nerve to tell me not to leave you in the dust???!!!!! I can't even believe you... You were there before but now your given up before you even have the chance to try.... No dad you left me in the dust along time ago... And I was the ONE person that stood there with you through it all!!! I was there when everyone turned against you... I agreed with you when everyone else found reasons to disagree... ALL I EVER WANTED WAS TO BE LIKE YOU, DAD!!!! ....but now? God **** I'm not so sure...... I always stood next to you... No matter how much you never came through... But now? I'm so gone.
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
You're such a joke.....
Why am I so angry?...... What the **** do you think your doing?! Take your eyes off of your phone for two seconds and take a look around you... Take your focus off the church for one minute and look at the people around you.... Your gaining all the wrong people and pushing away the ones that have always been for you.... I guess that's why I'm so angry.. I got a txt from you today: "I really do care about your life grace. Just Don't leave me in the dust" - Dad Don't leave me in the dust???? ARE YOU ******* KIDDING ME?!?! Yeah sure your one to talk dad.... "I don't just push people away for no reason"- Grace Your a ******* joke. C'mon dad werent you the one that taught me to be there for eachother?? I'm so tired of being the only one that's there for somebody in this relationship... Going to all your shows, even your practices ... **** You can't even come to one GOD **** SHOW!!! You never came to one swim meet.. Not one dance recital... Not one talent show.... Not one... Then you have the nerve to tell me not to leave you in the dust???!!!!! I can't even believe you... You were there before but now your given up before you even have the chance to try.... No dad you left me in the dust along time ago... And I was the ONE person that stood there with you through it all!!! I was there when everyone turned against you... I agreed with you when everyone else found reasons to disagree... ALL I EVER WANTED WAS TO BE LIKE YOU, DAD!!!! ....but now? God **** I'm not so sure...... I always stood next to you... No matter how much you never came through... But now? I'm so gone.
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molten i woke to your understated outro song crowded at the corpse door with the curtains drawn and only briefly wishing phantom pain on endless vigils for a swollen soul sealed the crypt your moonlit recital ceased to no applause
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Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
song for falling dust
We used to be so honest, so pure, so oblivious and full of life. Our love became the definition of sunrise awes, the sweet smell of fresh rain, the echo of a child's laugh and the first flight of a newborn bird. We became the melancholy of naive endeavours wrapped in raw emotions. Our love was real; factual, in fact and I refuse to believe any less. But that has all dissolved now; disintegrated with the wind, set with the sun, thundered the clouds with fearful flashes of dangerous light and whimpered every soul who has lost something they've loved. We are no longer built on sweet smiles or tempted impulses; we are the epitome of sulking stares and avoiding glances. We are civil, but we are also tense. We are the tightness of our muscles in this predicament of uncertainty. And that is what we've become: completely and utterly uncertain, which is quite contradictory to the confidence of our emotions trailing back to the months before. We are touch, but be are also sight and scent. We are all the senses masked by sweet pride. We are a tempest of emotions dancing to the rhythm of our eternally thriving hearts. And though we are inevitably wrong, moving to different beats of similar drums, our recital of pirouettes has managed to create something beautiful. - g.d.
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
Ballet.