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"redirected" poems
The problem with being invisible Is that none of you ever see me You see Friend, Person, Sister, Classmate, Girl Never Me. The problem with being invisible Is that you do not hear me You hear words, sentences, chatter Not the inbetween, not what I'm saying The problem with being invisible Is that you do not think of me You do not lie awake And wonder where Or who I am. I come only occasionally, Casually, In the slums of your minds unedited and full version redirected
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Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
Slums
that’s all I know, title, subject undisclosed, new morn amourning arrives,  when writing~writhing hunger, comes and remains till fufillment, sometimes, nagging, sometimes roaring, completion is the satiation satisfaction when the pouring/ spilling is from within to without, topping off the nearest receptacle with hugger-muggery, beauty jumbled, elegantly jagged linen creased the it of it, must be done, so my heart un-seizes, breathing to nearly next to normal, yet the distance there incroyable, inch or mile, meter matters not, until closed it’s a chasm rupturing,  fingers grasping my temples, to hold the jumbled tumbling innards within, redirected towards my screaming fingertips, hoping, relief will come sooner, making room until the throat and lungs engorged, when~with this selfsame need returns on the morrow if, when, my eyes open, and yesterday itself is a writ, a realization accomplished ~~~~~~~ perhaps, you recognize yourself? perhaps, you reconcile yourself?
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Sep 26, 2023
Sep 26, 2023 at 9:54 AM UTC
there’s a poem I need to write...
It’s never straight forward. It’s always redirected, people trying to save face, but that’s expected. I’ve gotten so tired of the games, trustworthy- the definition just isn’t the same. I just wonder when it changed, when words became so perfectly arranged. I just want the real. Don’t comfort me with a lie, because from the truth I’ll heal. I’m ranting now, but people have gotten so lost somehow. People are known to beat around the bush, maybe they just need a little push. Get to it, I’m not talking about shooting the **** I want the truth, not the attitude of the petulant youth. Get the point across, so the truth can’t be lost.
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Point
I've never felt But I'll tell you how it feels Her hips will sway, his eyes will undress He will sip his drink, she will ****** Muster up the courage to ask for a dance **** eyes She will touch, but he will touch more Moving with the beat, hands will roam He went too far, she redirected Not now she says; the night is too young Love and passion will grow, if only for one night It will feel real, their eyes will question And they will lean in closer Lips will collide, heat and *** will ensue It will end in the dark of night With naked bodies in synthesis Two lovers, entangled in the sheets
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:01 AM UTC
Two Lovers Seduced
The first time I spoke to you, I knew you were someone I was capable of loving. As I studied you, my infatuation only grew. I dreamed about your thin pale fingers that stroked piano keys, your melodious laugh, and the Greek God structure of your jaw, of your pretentiousness that stemmed from secret insecurities; and in these reveries, I fell in love with it all. Despite my desires, however, I knew that someone like me could never be loved by someone like you. So for years, I redirected my thoughts and repressed this feeling, until we found ourselves on an unfamiliar apartment bed together, laying silently while studying the ceiling. And in the dark you confessed to me your tales of innocence, and you were flattered by my distrust of your honest inexperience with lust. I should have known wisdom would come with the rising sun, yet I was still convinced that it was my love you wanted to win; all of the while, I was the naive one. The one who allowed those pale piano playing phalanges to trace my skin, and weave themselves through my hair and of course then, I was the one who eagerly leaned into your lustful lips and did not stop tasting your tongue even when I felt the emptiness behind it. And in the morning you were happy that it happened for your sake but you didn't think of the fact that my heart and mind, which troubled themselves with the thought of you for three years, were at stake.
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Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Used
staying the night up high in rainclouds & I feel safe now when I look down the wide world is so small. we are all tiny specimen divinely dissected subdivided into lively sections by wants by fires by greed by needs & secret desires; one nation under god’s feet tired slaves perspire unnecessarily for possession & obsess over what they each acquire. it is you, it is I, and we are frighteningly alike. my attention’s quite untidy all the time my mind gets redirected it walks like hell & talks like heaven. I am not well I never have been. but this hex is a blessing, it’s too **** precious. we are spilling into the ocean over the edges. The Land is dead and has been, days now. I find it kinda pleasant & I wonder if they’ll ever get around to disinfecting the nest of decaying flesh, before it infests the rest, y’know, the ones that got left. rot is a pox spread by proxy & is not bonded by neither lock nor key; that’s like, **** what you got **** what you be **** what you thought what you think what you see.’ **** you, **** me, **** everyone, **** everything. it’s lovely, it’s lovely. I even think it’s kinda funny, I laugh at nothing. Oh, the irony
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Weather Control
Redirected
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
Ghostly Breath, Gaudy Heart
I took a far peek at your seek and glanced into your eyes Eyes wide shut. You sunk me in and inaugurated me I peep in slightly to be magnified Star gazing at life's mystery , Your Sky is ever so gracefully true of mendacity Taken away by your master mind sailed away majestically , Accompanied my heart of blue I look up, the twinkles run my mind and anchored , Settled to disappointment too. I wondered why so down while life waves aimed up hi I conceived a facade love story that just began in my mind , will this nightmare end in horror or in sweet serenade.? A question that ignited our flame searching and fouling out with words of shame Attending to this nautical phase, unquestioned ! Redirected attention and navigated back to my heart. I sail away back to the start and peep in your telescope once more, There i realized Distracted with sparks and accumulated the mind with blind truth. I fooled myself in falling in love with a fool .
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
Telescope vision
*Purest white light Disinterred From the deepest depths Of your soul No longer lost Nor hidden Exhumed Now resurrected I hold your hand You are redirected From the now Illuminated darkness Of this uncovered black hole By Lady R.F ©2016*
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Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 11:34 PM UTC
Resurrected
My entire life No matter where I go, who I'm with, what I'm doing, how drunk I am I have always felt on the outside - out of the picture From childhood's hour I have not been like others are I've always been Out of the conversation, at a distance As though I am alone in existence Everywhere I go, there is an impenetrable barrier At home I'm a foreigner in my own land I've always felt like a different breed Slowing down when others pick up speed As if I was the only one picking up the sounds or words that others don't hear Deaf to the words that they do hear I do not hear what others hear, I do not see what others see Doing, saying, thinking things that others don't When I try to explain what my world is like, I baffle and stutter and can't find the words And they look at me From the other side of the barricade With condescending, puzzled smiles I've never really been a part of a group, a piece of a whole Even in my own house, with my own friends, I've always been an intruder Everything I say, everything I do seems offbeat I feel like everyone is dancing some sort of elaborate choreography And I haven't learned the steps Or they're all playing a game And no one taught me the rules, or let me roll the dice I've always felt out of it, As if I was alone on the opposite side of an enormous, invisible window Pressing my hands against the glass, tracing worlds in the fog A stranger looking in I've always felt it Struggling to break the sturdy facade In crowded parties, sleepovers, Lunch breaks, with my family, with best friends other half of poem redirected
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
Windows and Circles
My entire life No matter where I go, who I'm with, what I'm doing, how drunk I am I have always felt on the outside - out of the picture From childhood's hour I have not been like others are I've always been Out of the conversation, at a distance As though I am alone in existence Everywhere I go, there is an impenetrable barrier At home I'm a foreigner in my own land I've always felt like a different breed Slowing down when others pick up speed As if I was the only one picking up the sounds or words that others don't hear Deaf to the words that they do hear I do not hear what others hear, I do not see what others see Doing, saying, thinking things that others don't When I try to explain what my world is like, I baffle and stutter and can't find the words And they look at me From the other side of the barricade With condescending, puzzled smiles I've never really been a part of a group, a piece of a whole Even in my own house, with my own friends, I've always been an intruder Everything I say, everything I do seems offbeat I feel like everyone is dancing some sort of elaborate choreography And I haven't learned the steps Or they're all playing a game And no one taught me the rules, or let me roll the dice I've always felt out of it, As if I was alone on the opposite side of an enormous, invisible window Pressing my hands against the glass, tracing worlds in the fog A stranger looking in I've always felt it Struggling to break the sturdy facade In crowded parties, sleepovers, Lunch breaks, with my family, with best friends other half of poem redirected
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37
A melody Passes through my soul With  much ease and calmness, Across all the pieces That make me whole. Puts together The distant parts Of my heart and mind, That time Managed to pull apart, But finding myself, Redirected to unite again. This melody Is greatly appreciated, As it represents What we are And what we could be. My mind Opens. My heart Remembers. All of those Magnificent memories Flash through my mind At the instant When that melody Passes Through my heart.
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Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 11:20 AM UTC
Harmonious Soul
they were like an unexpected weight gain, no choice but to adapt. they came into his life in a train wreck, he fell head over heels and wondered if he had been enrolled back into high school. there was a catch, much to his disdain. 11 and 19, perpetually angry at their father at their mother at life. he was the blunt victim of their rage. the boy soon redirected his rage into drugs, alcohol, *** jail. the girl did not. it was not his fault, he would not let her get to him. but he did, and she had grinned at the murderous fire in his eyes. he screamed and released his own anger, you're letting her ruin it she knows what shes doing shes ruining us you're letting her ruin it please listen to me. tears glistened down his cheeks, she smiled. he was gone, though insults and words remained. that was 2 down, more to go.
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
he was never meant to be the villian
sensual subtlety or the subtlety of sensuality (HOW does size matter?) <•> *as always the title comes first, embalming the mind so it may voyage onto unwritten waters, over boundaries so the provocateur provoked may safely return, avoiding evoking anti-frieze cannonade fire some can disable with swinging fist, a chopping arm on an exposed neck, a swift kick to the semi-privates but I can do same, inflicting immobilization with a single solitary itty bitty pinky figuring finger no random boast, no hoax, not chest beating, just a fact ma’am, nothing but the facts the sensual subtlety of the delicate is overpowering and irresistible making grownups revert into laughing crying out loud babies the subtlety of sensuality pink’d exploding exploration, the intoxicating tiny tingling subtle and without equal, kingdoms have fallen, paintings and poems, art all kinds, instigated and in eye sockets permanently inserted, history redirected know I will no be telling details, the whose and where, the why and surely not the how, not here anyway so when you tell me in raw fashion size matters most definitely in the matters of the heart or the physicality whole heartedly agree waving my littlest pinky finger watching you wavering until you’ve learned the lesson it’s the how* not the how big
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
HOW does size matter?
redirected
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
Lost Track
i am so mad at men and I don't know why is what I want to say I'm almost positive it is the redirected frustration over what I couldn't control gone rabid, but I am taking it out on everyone and I don't know how to stop.
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Preserved Irritation.
In a growling, mixed parts automobile resembling A scrap-metal Frankenstein A driver pauses at a green light Stalling parking lot traffic on its steaming blacktop treadmill To greet an old friend through a missing window A father in full camo and combat boots drags a nic-stick And guides his wife and children through sardine walkways In ninety degree June heat on a Boston street His daughter swims in his thick wool, long-sleeved army jacket Beaming A lonely teen with fear tears and a pay-to-go-phone Calls for help, and receives no reply The frustration drains from his cursing voice He shakes the hand of the silent one who was with him all along Sirens wail, cars clear, leaving an empty trail A snake pilot shoots the gap and ditches his stagnant lane to tail The ambulance turns off its indicators; the patient didn’t make it Their apparent apostle gets home a few minutes early A blue peace keeper sleeping in his loser cruiser Does not stir as tax dollar drool dribbles from his lips A speeding truck nearly creams a pink backpack Somewhere, a woman is ***** A husband and his frail partner leave the office of a medicine man She walks aimlessly towards a wall before she is redirected Careful Magoo, he says with love He spoke with the patience of an ocean
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Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 8:25 PM UTC
102. Boston 6/7/11
I feel this undying need to bring myself to a higher plane my mind a run away train that managed to veer off track only to be redirected and brought back to center Peace is the moment we find our way back to the path that suits us and I am sprinting breathlessly in a desperate attempt to salvage Once again regaining the strength to repair and purify with nothing other than growth in mind our internal battles are most brutal but fighting them is surely time well spent The only war I believe in
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Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
In Pursuit to Salvage Peace
redirected
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC
You Are Weary, I Think
for we fall like moths at the strike of lighting. and slip to earth for change. we sit in 10 seconds of silence. yet we never wish for years of action. for we cry into the heavens--to God--in disarray, false water in our glossy eyes. for with magazines and a host, atheists are our middle name. knees soaked in kerosene and eyes used as ashtrays, we are fire coated in and of itself, for we burn midst tear-sealed lips, and expect for the earth to revolve. for we lay unclad together in bed, whispering cloy gooeyness into ear canals, and tie each other up with thorns, for kink--we say--then you're brain has no mouth. for we are sadomasochists, emanating soulful breaths with heads tilted back, at the thought of a bullet in our marrow, and chuckle off--chuckle off lots, at the red we draw from that hidden blade we borrowed. they know not of what we think, for we are madman in a cradle, with large starry eyes, we look for inspiration--intention, and--when asked for and found--the parents don't see those stars anymore. for we are heartache, and bodies with stones in our hand, for they don't understand, the power in corpses we seek. for we are the heretics, the verses in the Bible no one reads, for when sought out and seen, we bathe in the honeyed milk and spoil it. for we are selfish--even if we beg not, we are hypocrites--even if we needn't be, we are labyrinths--even if redirected, for we are killers and everyone knows, all we need to do is bury our weakness 'neath the meadows.
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Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
We.
for we fall like moths at the strike of lighting. and slip to earth for change. we sit in 10 seconds of silence. yet we never wish for years of action. for we cry into the heavens--to God--in disarray, false water in our glossy eyes. for with magazines and a host, atheists are our middle name. knees soaked in kerosene and eyes used as ashtrays, we are fire coated in and of itself, for we burn midst tear-sealed lips, and expect for the earth to revolve. for we lay unclad together in bed, whispering cloy gooeyness into ear canals, and tie each other up with thorns, for kink--we say--then you're brain has no mouth. for we are sadomasochists, emanating soulful breaths with heads tilted back, at the thought of a bullet in our marrow, and chuckle off--chuckle off lots, at the red we draw from that hidden blade we borrowed. they know not of what we think, for we are madman in a cradle, with large starry eyes, we look for inspiration--intention, and--when asked for and found--the parents don't see those stars anymore. for we are heartache, and bodies with stones in our hand, for they don't understand, the power in corpses we seek. for we are the heretics, the verses in the Bible no one reads, for when sought out and seen, we bathe in the honeyed milk and spoil it. for we are selfish--even if we beg not, we are hypocrites--even if we needn't be, we are labyrinths--even if redirected, for we are killers and everyone knows, all we need to do is bury our weakness 'neath the meadows.
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38
Is it just me, or do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and pull at pieces of skin you wish weren’t there? do you claw at the marked up places, or beat the aching bones? do you ever just look at someone else, and take in their completion, wishing that you were them, facing a mirror? dozens of loose ends, and with a curvy smile, you're forced to tell yourself you're willing to wait for a confidence more valuable than any tear shed. why are we expected to work 100x harder than them? I know no one is the same, but what determines how were different? why do I always want something I don’t have, and push away everything I do? who in this world  even came up with the definition of beauty? as if life is only permissible to those who have things figured out throughly. truly that’s just unfair to make someone who’s flaws aren’t accepted, follow a path that is redirected in a circle that is infected with a never ending journey of hatred towards themselves. collecting baggage from the world that sticks like dust on the highest shelf of a book case filled with books of truth, rarely read. all they ever had to do was open one up and realize that to their surprise they are more than what they’ve been memorized with all these years. they're somethings beyond the humans eyes of beauty, and all it really took to see that was a key to a loose lock. just one knock will do. open the door, and find out more of your true self. find out the truth about the remarkable beauty you hold within. (j.a.r.)
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
"Lock and Key"
Is it just me, or do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and pull at pieces of skin you wish weren’t there? do you claw at the marked up places, or beat the aching bones? do you ever just look at someone else, and take in their completion, wishing that you were them, facing a mirror? dozens of loose ends, and with a curvy smile, you're forced to tell yourself you're willing to wait for a confidence more valuable than any tear shed. why are we expected to work 100x harder than them? I know no one is the same, but what determines how were different? why do I always want something I don’t have, and push away everything I do? who in this world  even came up with the definition of beauty? as if life is only permissible to those who have things figured out throughly. truly that’s just unfair to make someone who’s flaws aren’t accepted, follow a path that is redirected in a circle that is infected with a never ending journey of hatred towards themselves. collecting baggage from the world that sticks like dust on the highest shelf of a book case filled with books of truth, rarely read. all they ever had to do was open one up and realize that to their surprise they are more than what they’ve been memorized with all these years. they're somethings beyond the humans eyes of beauty, and all it really took to see that was a key to a loose lock. just one knock will do. open the door, and find out more of your true self. find out the truth about the remarkable beauty you hold within. (j.a.r.)
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2
Drinking alone can make for good conversation New things are learned, said or inferred Who am I speaking to      and am I heard? Nature’s beauties surround me and I’ve killed with neglect     Unintentional but always aware    My lips tingle and my tongue writhes, my body breathes in the expulsion of shelved speakers and my membranes arouse because I’m redirected to you    Always to you; I’d like to hear your voice but I predict you won’t answer if I call Following through will result in disappointment I expected, so why bother? Predetermination — a convoluted structure that remains the source of my reflection    And misdirection There was a rush of thoughts like rapid waters straight to my skull, cracking   my will to break like a dam bursting forth with so much emotion you will drown in it, even if you hold your breath to infinity
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
SoCo on the rocks
redirected
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Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
Forelsket
cipralex pulsates thru veins, dilutes blood to make me happ -hey! legs seize in weird ache - - dreamless sleeps where I may not even be sleeping - - wake up exhausted - - but basis energy covered! so day survival possible - - sometimes combination of coffee + cip (cip of coffee) cause tremors - - moments of 'ahhhgg' panic attack redirected to calm productivity - - day 5? since prescribed - - they say 2 to 6 weeks. I'll be patient.
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Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
lexapro
I was in a white space, of infinite planes I was searching and seeking, my heart was in pain There was a man standing there, my movement he barred As I noticed his hands, two heart breaking scars I continued to strive to peer around his corner But, the stone, the man gentle, his face was familiar Each time I put effort to look for the good He redirected my gaze to where he stood I need better, not this, I need the best But there was no competition, there was no test For holding me close, was the Sun of all Sons The One who surpasses, the One who overcomes The One who is holy, and wholly just The One who I know, I always can trust The East and the West held me close to His heart In one instant I knew, I felt there no part The better I looked for did not exist For the best held me close in this moment of bliss So why did I seek for something more? For my previous focus, was distracted, was poor.
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
A prayer that answered