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"regenerates" poems
silver flute sits in the case Studio awaits, soul suppress Space slammed silver flute rests on the stand Insecurity of melody Gasping for air Trembling, closed off silver flute plays a sweet song once, yesterday For Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, & for Uriel Resonance, chord floating, pure revelation last song of hope, courage last wild witch prayer Last organic sound, unplugged silver flute sits in the case Great Open Outdoors awaits, soul regenerates Have we arrived to the sacred tree? Silver flute will play Naked, wild, free! All ears wide open Open eyes, Open hearts, Open minds True human connection returns CODA Silver flute floats in my heart & hand
0
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Silver Flute
~dedicated to the old poets here~ the addictive pairing of certain words, a line, a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention, unfailing decades of instant recognition, an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers a chance, a tensile injection that causes the lips to commence a new choreography, the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates, concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency a geometry of many differing angles that equate a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work, coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence, though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor, the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need, the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid! ————————————————————————- (1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting (2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm  NYC
0
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
“Sacred Geometry of Chance” (1)
What is the meaning of Life? Does that not state there is in fact a meaning to our lives? Are we not conceived with a blank slate and let our actions be guided by the environment we have become accustomed to or is there a true predestined meaning to our lives? Is it neither? We are nothing more than what we are and nothing less than what we are not. What is my purpose? Purposelessness. What is God? God is what leads me in the direction that I am heading and keeps me away from where I have not gone. God is not in the endless skies watching my every action. God does not know me. I don’t know God. God is not a being. God is not energy. God is not matter; God is not made of protons, neutrons, electrons or photons. God exists. We made God exist. We also made God disappear. What is reality? The tangible and physical perceptions that we have keep in our memories. As soon as we forget, reality disintegrates. When we remember, reality regenerates. Reality is not constant. Why am I here? Spontaneity How did I get here? I managed to avoid every other place than where I am. If I averted where I am now I would be someplace else. I would be any place else. Am I happy? Yes. Am I upset? Yes. This experience is beautiful yet full of dismay and I experience comfort but sorrow for only being able to experience a small sliver of the universe. But this is my sliver of the universe. I love this sliver of the universe and I would fight to the death to save this tiny space for anybody else to experience existence the way I do. Who and What am I? I am human, **** sapient, **** hominine, hominid, primate, Mammalia, Chordate, and Animal. I am an Earthling from the Milky Way. I am what I am labeled, by others and by myself. I am defined by everything I am not and I change every day. I am not constant. What will happen when I die? Transcendence from existence; Appearance into eternal rest. My body will provide nutrients to the world, my memories will be lost. I will no longer be, except in the minds of those who knew me and in the evidence I leave behind. I’ll be lost forever, the evidence will soon disappear. I will be over, the universe will go on. That’s all I could ever ask for.
0
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
Questions to Ask Yourself
What is the meaning of Life? Does that not state there is in fact a meaning to our lives? Are we not conceived with a blank slate and let our actions be guided by the environment we have become accustomed to or is there a true predestined meaning to our lives? Is it neither? We are nothing more than what we are and nothing less than what we are not. What is my purpose? Purposelessness. What is God? God is what leads me in the direction that I am heading and keeps me away from where I have not gone. God is not in the endless skies watching my every action. God does not know me. I don’t know God. God is not a being. God is not energy. God is not matter; God is not made of protons, neutrons, electrons or photons. God exists. We made God exist. We also made God disappear. What is reality? The tangible and physical perceptions that we have keep in our memories. As soon as we forget, reality disintegrates. When we remember, reality regenerates. Reality is not constant. Why am I here? Spontaneity How did I get here? I managed to avoid every other place than where I am. If I averted where I am now I would be someplace else. I would be any place else. Am I happy? Yes. Am I upset? Yes. This experience is beautiful yet full of dismay and I experience comfort but sorrow for only being able to experience a small sliver of the universe. But this is my sliver of the universe. I love this sliver of the universe and I would fight to the death to save this tiny space for anybody else to experience existence the way I do. Who and What am I? I am human, **** sapient, **** hominine, hominid, primate, Mammalia, Chordate, and Animal. I am an Earthling from the Milky Way. I am what I am labeled, by others and by myself. I am defined by everything I am not and I change every day. I am not constant. What will happen when I die? Transcendence from existence; Appearance into eternal rest. My body will provide nutrients to the world, my memories will be lost. I will no longer be, except in the minds of those who knew me and in the evidence I leave behind. I’ll be lost forever, the evidence will soon disappear. I will be over, the universe will go on. That’s all I could ever ask for.
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16
I ate too much for breakfast today And lunch was spent wondering if I should slip away Wondering if I should go back for seconds **** it, why not? My feet jiggled nervously under the table Trying to think of an excuse to leave Trying to figure out how much the barbeque chicken pizza would hurt on the way back up Trying to figure out how much I’d regret it Trying to figure out if my body was okay My self esteem balloons up and down Somedays I look in the mirror and like what I see, Think I look cute and quirky in my glasses and skirt, Think my body is almost okay And then like black crossing over to white, like a light switch flipped on No inbetween All of the sudden I am ugly My body takes up too much space Loving myself, loving this body seem like an impossible feat The little critic in my head is back And he wants to move back in, I’m not cured Recovery is not about loving your body Recovery is accepting it I’m still working on that The calculator in my head wakes up, Regenerates every time I’m around food My hands still hover over the diet soda before forcing myself to pick something that scares me more I still have to bargain in my brain Eat a salad so I can eat ice cream and cookies Skip lunch so I can have a big dinner Strip naked in front of a full mirror, Watch my body standing up, bending over, sitting Grabbing, pinching, prodding, poking Surveying this piece of meat This thing This body That I know I need to be kind to I weighed myself for the first time in almost a year My toe lingered over the cold surface of a scale Like a child about to dip his feet into water I knew standing on that scale could drag me under And I did it anyway Loving myself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done When self hatred has been tamped into my soul When my eating disorder was the only thing I good at This secret lover, the most attentive one you could have Took my hand and showed me how an empty stomach could feel like love My eating disorder was my best friend, The abusive relationship I kept going back to, The most interesting thing about me, The thing that was killing me Having an eating disorder is easy; Allowing yourself to slip into a disease out of your control Having someone else make all your decisions Your life reduces itself to the numbers on the scale The slipping numbers on the scale assure me that everything is alright But I can’t live like that Having an eating disorder is easy; Recovery is hard
0
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
Slam Poem #2
I ate too much for breakfast today And lunch was spent wondering if I should slip away Wondering if I should go back for seconds **** it, why not? My feet jiggled nervously under the table Trying to think of an excuse to leave Trying to figure out how much the barbeque chicken pizza would hurt on the way back up Trying to figure out how much I’d regret it Trying to figure out if my body was okay My self esteem balloons up and down Somedays I look in the mirror and like what I see, Think I look cute and quirky in my glasses and skirt, Think my body is almost okay And then like black crossing over to white, like a light switch flipped on No inbetween All of the sudden I am ugly My body takes up too much space Loving myself, loving this body seem like an impossible feat The little critic in my head is back And he wants to move back in, I’m not cured Recovery is not about loving your body Recovery is accepting it I’m still working on that The calculator in my head wakes up, Regenerates every time I’m around food My hands still hover over the diet soda before forcing myself to pick something that scares me more I still have to bargain in my brain Eat a salad so I can eat ice cream and cookies Skip lunch so I can have a big dinner Strip naked in front of a full mirror, Watch my body standing up, bending over, sitting Grabbing, pinching, prodding, poking Surveying this piece of meat This thing This body That I know I need to be kind to I weighed myself for the first time in almost a year My toe lingered over the cold surface of a scale Like a child about to dip his feet into water I knew standing on that scale could drag me under And I did it anyway Loving myself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done When self hatred has been tamped into my soul When my eating disorder was the only thing I good at This secret lover, the most attentive one you could have Took my hand and showed me how an empty stomach could feel like love My eating disorder was my best friend, The abusive relationship I kept going back to, The most interesting thing about me, The thing that was killing me Having an eating disorder is easy; Allowing yourself to slip into a disease out of your control Having someone else make all your decisions Your life reduces itself to the numbers on the scale The slipping numbers on the scale assure me that everything is alright But I can’t live like that Having an eating disorder is easy; Recovery is hard
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59
Can this be the time once more Of utter giving up of our control The simple folliwing of commercial madness Our desire for the day when food and wine Have to be gathered about us like the defences of yore Headlong we run from mid-summer until We are exhausted in body, spirit or credit The desperate worry of what to buy whom Or when to order the especially fattened bird for your table The ridiculous overspending on presents When time could be the finest present you could give Yule tide is a special period for Druids and all pagans alike, The wonder of simplicity of reflection of our past year The elements of sleep as mother earth regenerates herself Resting often under the warmth of a blanket of snow Gathering of families and loved ones Blessings of the solstice as the wheel of the year turns Once more into the light as the sun begins it's journey Returning to the northern hemisphere Our birds and native animals preparing for the winter Storing their food, digging deep as they look for vitals Likewise the land is resting, The soil teems with dormant life, every insect and worm Every root, form and bulb Slowing right down as the degrees fall to freezing The frosty and rime ridden mornings giving the flora A lift of white dusting and sparkling light reflecting The weak, beautiful winter sun Heaves itself onto the low glancing position Just making it to the tree tops before retiring once more to sleep Leaving glorious swathes of orange and red Painting the sky as it falls and rises. Yule tide comes as all seasons, times and periods But once a year in our short lives The earthy sounds, the images and emotion The smell of the newly fallen snow and woodsmoke The foraging birds and squirrels The warbling and tuneful song of the blackbird And the tut tut of Mr Robin resplendent in his Bright red waistcoat bobbing around in the crisp frost Our lifetime of Yules is a wonder to enjoy, I know as I look from my window where my heart is As the distant tree bare in it's winter shroud speaks To me as a friend and anchor within this beautiful planet.
0
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
Reflections on Yule
Can this be the time once more Of utter giving up of our control The simple folliwing of commercial madness Our desire for the day when food and wine Have to be gathered about us like the defences of yore Headlong we run from mid-summer until We are exhausted in body, spirit or credit The desperate worry of what to buy whom Or when to order the especially fattened bird for your table The ridiculous overspending on presents When time could be the finest present you could give Yule tide is a special period for Druids and all pagans alike, The wonder of simplicity of reflection of our past year The elements of sleep as mother earth regenerates herself Resting often under the warmth of a blanket of snow Gathering of families and loved ones Blessings of the solstice as the wheel of the year turns Once more into the light as the sun begins it's journey Returning to the northern hemisphere Our birds and native animals preparing for the winter Storing their food, digging deep as they look for vitals Likewise the land is resting, The soil teems with dormant life, every insect and worm Every root, form and bulb Slowing right down as the degrees fall to freezing The frosty and rime ridden mornings giving the flora A lift of white dusting and sparkling light reflecting The weak, beautiful winter sun Heaves itself onto the low glancing position Just making it to the tree tops before retiring once more to sleep Leaving glorious swathes of orange and red Painting the sky as it falls and rises. Yule tide comes as all seasons, times and periods But once a year in our short lives The earthy sounds, the images and emotion The smell of the newly fallen snow and woodsmoke The foraging birds and squirrels The warbling and tuneful song of the blackbird And the tut tut of Mr Robin resplendent in his Bright red waistcoat bobbing around in the crisp frost Our lifetime of Yules is a wonder to enjoy, I know as I look from my window where my heart is As the distant tree bare in it's winter shroud speaks To me as a friend and anchor within this beautiful planet.
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44
I’m not a talkative person In fact I have sewn my mouth shut To keep my thoughts From spilling out With the force of a fire hydrant When I do talk It’s in mumbles and murmurs I let my words run together I don’t even remember the last time I finished a real sentence Poetry runs through my veins Every night I unzip my forearms And let my blood Spill out onto paper I’m sorry I can’t bleed for you I’m selfish I take, take, take, and take I buy myself Christmas presents Birthday presents Because I ******* deserve it presents Grace never came easy to me I stumble over my shoelaces Like I stumble over my words Thank god none of you have a pet fish Because I would probably Break the bowl Cigarettes I don’t smoke them But **** do I find them attractive I think bruises are beautiful Purple, blue, and black splotches On pale skin Soreness when you press your fingers Into them Give me bruises And I’ll give you kisses Your eardrums can and will shatter Under my screeches of rage I don’t always scream But when I do I turn into a ******* demon I wear granny ******* casually Because being comfortable Is more important Than being **** Every bouquet you give me I will keep Until they are petal-less And brown They will sit in a vase And decay And I will use the scent As perfume I have a skinny waist But fat thighs I’m a size nine Please don’t buy me size three jeans Most people’s voices change With puberty My voice changes depending On who I’m with When I’m with you My voice is deep with a sarcastic tint When I’m with your parents I sound like a ten year old boy I have a cranberry juice addiction That’s getting out of hand Sometimes I break under Magnifying glasses My heart drums behind my ribs There’s a reason why They call it a cage I’ve read Catcher in the Rye Five times and I still Hate Holden Caulfield A good day for me Is finding socks Without holes in them I don’t plan on being A mother I can’t give you An heir My heart explodes Regenerates Explodes Regenerates Explodes Explodes Explodes Regenerates I love myself more Than I could ever love anyone else And I’ve yet to find someone Who understands that
0
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
Everything Every Boy Who Has Ever Tried To Date Me Should've Known But Didn't
I’m not a talkative person In fact I have sewn my mouth shut To keep my thoughts From spilling out With the force of a fire hydrant When I do talk It’s in mumbles and murmurs I let my words run together I don’t even remember the last time I finished a real sentence Poetry runs through my veins Every night I unzip my forearms And let my blood Spill out onto paper I’m sorry I can’t bleed for you I’m selfish I take, take, take, and take I buy myself Christmas presents Birthday presents Because I ******* deserve it presents Grace never came easy to me I stumble over my shoelaces Like I stumble over my words Thank god none of you have a pet fish Because I would probably Break the bowl Cigarettes I don’t smoke them But **** do I find them attractive I think bruises are beautiful Purple, blue, and black splotches On pale skin Soreness when you press your fingers Into them Give me bruises And I’ll give you kisses Your eardrums can and will shatter Under my screeches of rage I don’t always scream But when I do I turn into a ******* demon I wear granny ******* casually Because being comfortable Is more important Than being **** Every bouquet you give me I will keep Until they are petal-less And brown They will sit in a vase And decay And I will use the scent As perfume I have a skinny waist But fat thighs I’m a size nine Please don’t buy me size three jeans Most people’s voices change With puberty My voice changes depending On who I’m with When I’m with you My voice is deep with a sarcastic tint When I’m with your parents I sound like a ten year old boy I have a cranberry juice addiction That’s getting out of hand Sometimes I break under Magnifying glasses My heart drums behind my ribs There’s a reason why They call it a cage I’ve read Catcher in the Rye Five times and I still Hate Holden Caulfield A good day for me Is finding socks Without holes in them I don’t plan on being A mother I can’t give you An heir My heart explodes Regenerates Explodes Regenerates Explodes Explodes Explodes Regenerates I love myself more Than I could ever love anyone else And I’ve yet to find someone Who understands that
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94
I was a dense forest of wild desires love engulfed it as a sudden wild fire, lit by a spark your kohl rimmed eye emitted, Never do I want to put it out, not in  this life, as burning for what you've kindled within me is pure bliss,I realize, mon amie The embers are alive, giving warmth while the forest of desires regenerates at a speed I  haven't known ever before.                          *** നീ പകര്‍ന്ന പ്രണയച്ചൂടില്‍എരിയുകയാണ് ഞാനിപ്പോഴും. ഞാന്‍ വന്യകാമനകളുടെ സാന്ദ്ര,നിബിഡവനം, നിന്‍മഷിക്കണ്ണിലെ  തീപ്പൊരി തെറിച്ച് പെട്ടന്നതില്‍ പടര്‍ന്ന കാട്ടുതീയാണീപ്രണയം. അത്കെടുത്താന്‍ എനിക്കീ ജന്മമില്ല,മോഹം. നീപകര്‍ന്നു തന്നതിനായ് എരിയുവതേ എന്‍ പ്രിയ കാമിനി, നിര്‍വൃതി യെന്നറിവൂ ഞാന്‍. കനലുകളുടെസുഖോഷ്മളത ഉള്ളില്‍പ്പടരവേ, ഇതുവരെഞാനറിയാത്തൊരു തീവ്ര മാംത്വരയോടെ വികാരമഹാവിപിനം വീണ്ടുമിതാ ഉണരുകയാണിവിടെ. (In Malayalam translation)
0
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 7:35 AM UTC
I still burn in the love you've kindled
I was a dense forest of wild desires love engulfed it as a sudden wild fire, lit by a spark your kohl rimmed eye emitted, Never do I want to put it out, not in  this life, as burning for what you've kindled within me is pure bliss,I realize, mon amie The embers are alive, giving warmth while the forest of desires regenerates at a speed I  haven't known ever before.                          *** നീ പകര്‍ന്ന പ്രണയച്ചൂടില്‍എരിയുകയാണ് ഞാനിപ്പോഴും. ഞാന്‍ വന്യകാമനകളുടെ സാന്ദ്ര,നിബിഡവനം, നിന്‍മഷിക്കണ്ണിലെ  തീപ്പൊരി തെറിച്ച് പെട്ടന്നതില്‍ പടര്‍ന്ന കാട്ടുതീയാണീപ്രണയം. അത്കെടുത്താന്‍ എനിക്കീ ജന്മമില്ല,മോഹം. നീപകര്‍ന്നു തന്നതിനായ് എരിയുവതേ എന്‍ പ്രിയ കാമിനി, നിര്‍വൃതി യെന്നറിവൂ ഞാന്‍. കനലുകളുടെസുഖോഷ്മളത ഉള്ളില്‍പ്പടരവേ, ഇതുവരെഞാനറിയാത്തൊരു തീവ്ര മാംത്വരയോടെ വികാരമഹാവിപിനം വീണ്ടുമിതാ ഉണരുകയാണിവിടെ. (In Malayalam translation)
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21
The human body Regenerates completely new skin cells Approximately every 27 days I say this knowing That I am someone Your hands have never gotten to know My skin has mourned the loss of your touch Grieved for the freckles that never got to know your warmth No memorization of the path your fingertips took while Tracing the lines of my skin I am a whole new person Since you've last held me My body Is not the only thing that has changed Crazy how So much can differ From the last time You knew me But today You don't It only took 27 days for me to become someone else I am someone else now My limbs can attest to that They no longer crave to be cradled by your arms You do not know me And it only took 27 days for me to realize That I Never really knew you At all.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
27 days
Being the softy that I am, I feel sympathy for all those prisoners On Death Row, No matter what they’ve done. But then I reflect that every one of us Is also on Death Row. Unless perhaps you are an ancient tree, Or one of those jellyfish Who regenerates like Doctor Who. For Death is inevitable The moment we are conceived. I look for ways around this And only see An ocean Of Religious and Spiritual Speculation. Paul Butters
0
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC
Death Row
he pressed himself into me and whispered, "just the tip." at the time, i wasn't sure what to think. i wasn't sure if i was able to think at all. i felt something hard press into my back, but not what i was expecting. no, this, this was cold even in the summer's air. my mouth was sewn shut by the press of your hand, but maybe it was the drinks i'd consumed. and it hurt, what came after. what led to this. when you called out to me, this was the last thing i expected. but i was naive, and i was innocent, but you took care of that. the threat of violence hung heavy in the air, the tip of your weapon cradling my spine. and i could smell the metal, faint over the smell of the dirt and leaves you'd shoved my face into. and when the violence was over, and the questions began running through my mind [white text on a blank slate, wiped clean with new memories and a loss of something i never knew i had], it was over with a flippant wave of your hand and a flick of your sweat-matted hair. a figurative, "see you later." an au revoir to your ***** laundry, like it's not worth dumping in the wash. but we both know i'll scrub myself clean later. clean, but not fresh. and you're not afraid, not yet. no, you're not the one that will cower in fear in corners of beds in corners of rooms and closets, all mirrors turned around. you'll be able to look people in the eye. but you're not the one that will recover. and you're not the one that will change. no, you'll always be a monster, a beast of brutality and, eventually, regret. but skin cells die and the body regenerates, and wounds, well, they heal. and i'm not there yet, but one day i will be. first, i have to remember how to stand up.
0
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
borrowed words.
he pressed himself into me and whispered, "just the tip." at the time, i wasn't sure what to think. i wasn't sure if i was able to think at all. i felt something hard press into my back, but not what i was expecting. no, this, this was cold even in the summer's air. my mouth was sewn shut by the press of your hand, but maybe it was the drinks i'd consumed. and it hurt, what came after. what led to this. when you called out to me, this was the last thing i expected. but i was naive, and i was innocent, but you took care of that. the threat of violence hung heavy in the air, the tip of your weapon cradling my spine. and i could smell the metal, faint over the smell of the dirt and leaves you'd shoved my face into. and when the violence was over, and the questions began running through my mind [white text on a blank slate, wiped clean with new memories and a loss of something i never knew i had], it was over with a flippant wave of your hand and a flick of your sweat-matted hair. a figurative, "see you later." an au revoir to your ***** laundry, like it's not worth dumping in the wash. but we both know i'll scrub myself clean later. clean, but not fresh. and you're not afraid, not yet. no, you're not the one that will cower in fear in corners of beds in corners of rooms and closets, all mirrors turned around. you'll be able to look people in the eye. but you're not the one that will recover. and you're not the one that will change. no, you'll always be a monster, a beast of brutality and, eventually, regret. but skin cells die and the body regenerates, and wounds, well, they heal. and i'm not there yet, but one day i will be. first, i have to remember how to stand up.
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31
Keeping myself awake until I'm too tired to think of you. Because when I'm thinking, I'm not dreaming. And all I've wanted to do lately is join as two. There's this ache behind my rib cage, and a burning behind my eyes. These sheets don't smell like you anymore, and I'm sleeping on your side. This bed is my own again, but I can't seem to forget the way your feet cradled mine, telling me that everything would be alright. They told me that skin regenerates every twenty eight days. I still have twenty seven until I'm new, proving to be much more difficult, being without you.
0
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Ribcage
*Down the memory lane The journey of my identity, my life unfolded in a broad spectrum of events Of how I reacted to life’s happenings. Sometimes proactive, most times reactive. Other times, I succumbed to the world, My dreams hung in balance Almost letting go, especially my being." Along that memory lane, My faith builds on my ego, Hope regenerates within my being, Perseverance grows strong, And self esteem heightens, I hold on, the portion of my being,* *Beyond the memory lane a new journey of my life where the modern life challenges my tradition beliefs, no anticipation of overnight change, but vivid imagination of good life beyond today when tradition and modernity blend well in my being.*
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Memory Lane
air invisible heart vulnerable Love indivisible fear perpetuates peace regenerates
0
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
2 x 2 10w poem
lately it's been a mix of cold hellos and trying to drown out the unnerving voices inside my head telling me it's the perfect day to **** off and die. mostly, it's the latter. my teacher taught me that every 10 years our skeletal system regenerates itself and we, in the literal sense, become new people again. it's been eleven since you left and i still can't get the scent of you off my skin. how long does it take for a person to forget someone who made them feel like the neon lights that led to home? the answer is twenty bottles of ***** and a stranger's body to kiss, maybe even to hold afterwards. breakup *** makeup *** **** me til i pass out *** it doesn't even feel the same without you *** just come back i miss you so much i don't know who this person is please come back *** my hands are weak and my body is shaking as if the tremors that quaked california five days ago were suddenly reincarnating as the sobs in my head. twenty bottles, eleven years, i'm still counting, still counting, still counting, still counting. i don't know what i'm waiting for.
0
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
the day i sat at a bar
I just finished watching the movie LEAN ON ME (1989). I graduated from Andover often considered the best high school in America. But the school I just watched in the movie is better than Andover. The school is Eastside High School in Paterson, NJ. Morgan Freeman, who I consider the best actor ever, stars in the movie. If you have never seen the movie, see it now. If you have already seen it, see it again. The story of the movie is a microcosm of the state of Earth. The new principal of Eastside, Joe Clark, played by Freeman, saves the high school and the lives of all associated with it--students, parents, teachers--through his love and the love he regenerates in all of them. As I have said before, only love can save Earth, the love of all 8,000,000,000 of us. Lean on all others. TOD HOWARD HAWKS
0
Jan 31, 2023
Jan 31, 2023 at 2:09 AM UTC
LEAN ON ALL OTHERS
Love captures smiles deep within eyes, within hearts reflections spiral as mirrors expand views. Sparrow sing as footsteps dance at doorways ajar. love dictates in breeze as bells toll in steno-like heartbeats eyelids fluttering in drumroll in moments unfold like wind. Love inside dreamscape regenerates, awakens Oneness is realized.
0
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
Love Captures
As I keep on crying my heart is still dying Even though I hate lying to myself I just need to endure the pain When ever I think of him my memory regenerates as my heart begs to make it real again The locket in my chest will break whenever I finally forget So far my locket is still stowed in the place it will stay forever.
0
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
January 31, 2013 11:54PM
I just finished watching the movie LEAN ON ME (1989). I graduated from Andover often considered the best high school in America. But the school I just watched in the movie is better than Andover. The school is Eastside High School in Paterson, NJ. Morgan Freeman, who I consider the best actor ever, stars in the movie. If you have never seen the movie, see it now. If you have already seen it, see it again. The story of the movie is a microcosm of the state of Earth. The new principal of Eastside, Joe Clark, played by Freeman, saves the high school and the lives of all associated with it--students, parents, teachers--through his love and the love he regenerates in all of them. As I have said before, only love can save Earth, the love of all 8,000,000,000 of us. Lean on all others. TOD HOWARD HAWKS
0
Feb 3, 2023
Feb 3, 2023 at 8:48 PM UTC
LEAN ON ALL OTHERS
Step through the clouded mist Reflect upon the silver pane Assist and improve to renew the lesser side of you As the body regenerates in kind so can the mind Rectify verbal constructs There's still time to grow in matching your actions Stretch between your panic and comfort zones Observe parity with clarity Lessons in self awareness are key as you can't always be told what to be
0
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 3:33 PM UTC
Persistence
In the midst of a bright day when sky gets covered up with dark clouds it jeopardizes the well beings of daily nuances. But they fail to realize that until you don't witness the darkness you don't tend to appreciate the beauty of the bright rays peeping from behind the dark clouds The mesmerizing rays touches the soul skin deep refreshes the senses reclaims the victory of life regenerates the novelty and preserves the energy to face another dark phase
0
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
The rays
It started with an instant 'Yes', Because the love in her heart never ends. The proposal which was longing for years, Has happened in an unexpected spheres. But, Within seconds, thought processing started, affecting the heart which was darted, and the excitement in his heart suffered. I know the night which could have been much more special, But, was laid back in a thinking tussle. The thought was not about the acceptance, It was about to get out of the painful depression, It was about to recreate the magic of essence. But the mistakes of the past, which are now years old, Still play a spoil sport. Love gets overshadowed with negativity, faults, reality. Can True love ever end? If it regenerates, in 20 days does it descend? Perhaps, that was not love, It was only the need of reality thereof. Only almighty knows what prevails in our fate, I so badly long to be in his arms till the last date, Just trying to bring back my soul from an emotional abate.
0
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
A proposal of 20 days
I was a forest of wild desires love engulfed it as wild fire, lit by a spark from your eyes. Never did I want to put it out,as burning for what you gave me was pure bliss,I realize. The embers are alive, giving warmth while the forest of desires regenerates at a speed I haven't known ever before.
0
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 7:35 AM UTC
Still burn with the love you've kindled
I love waking up with you next to me. When I open my eyes and the first thing I see is you I feel my love regenerates its self for you from your soft face, smooth voice and horrible morning breath. I never loose the feelings that's you've helped me build for you. It never decreases, only grows. I am finding myself infatuated.
0
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
Oh you
Sometimes we don't understand what a Christian life is all about and what exactly it mean. How can somebody just live without knowing what he or she is living for? Its pity isn't it. Can you just walk the road without knowing where you are going and where you are from. We all need to know our purpose and the reason for everything that we do. There is a battle between the flesh and the spirit. Some people choose not to understand what they see simply because they think ignorance is the only way to escape the battle. We all know about it and we all feel that but some of us choose not to stand the battle. The fact is that anytime you act like you don't know you are giving a chance for anything whether bad or good and even the bible say the time you lack wisdom, wisdom just to realize you will perish. Knowledge is a key to everything and once you choose it you will win in everything and even the battles of your innermost will be won unto your will. I always loved to give this example of the two dogs fighting within. One is mean and evil and the other one is good, they fight we all know that but the truth is anytime we get a fight there is a winner and a looser, its natural. We all know the survival of the fittest and the one that you feed the most will be the fittest and it will surely take the belt. What are you feeding the most, your flesh or your spirit? Some spiritual battles can not be fought by the flesh but nevertheless can the spirit fail to solve physical matters. The life we are living is supernatural, metaphysical and it takes the heart of the spirit to open up the undiscovered doors of the supernatural hidden in  the whelms of the spirit and gives the faith to the body for them to manifest in the physical. But this can only be done when the spirit has control to your everything. It knows already what you want but it will be waiting for the authority. How can you give authority to the spirit? You need to fight this battle. Fight the common reasoning of the mind that covers a way to your sense of realization. Feed your spirit everyday that it will be fit enough to stand every battle. Humble your heart and make your body believe that the spirit can do it. Trust and have faith in your plans, have faith in what you haven't discovered. Open your eyes in the dark and see light all over and make it happen. The power of creation regenerates from your inner being, stop overshadowing it from creating. Then you will understand that this is the battle worthy fighting for.
0
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
The battle worthy fighting
Sometimes we don't understand what a Christian life is all about and what exactly it mean. How can somebody just live without knowing what he or she is living for? Its pity isn't it. Can you just walk the road without knowing where you are going and where you are from. We all need to know our purpose and the reason for everything that we do. There is a battle between the flesh and the spirit. Some people choose not to understand what they see simply because they think ignorance is the only way to escape the battle. We all know about it and we all feel that but some of us choose not to stand the battle. The fact is that anytime you act like you don't know you are giving a chance for anything whether bad or good and even the bible say the time you lack wisdom, wisdom just to realize you will perish. Knowledge is a key to everything and once you choose it you will win in everything and even the battles of your innermost will be won unto your will. I always loved to give this example of the two dogs fighting within. One is mean and evil and the other one is good, they fight we all know that but the truth is anytime we get a fight there is a winner and a looser, its natural. We all know the survival of the fittest and the one that you feed the most will be the fittest and it will surely take the belt. What are you feeding the most, your flesh or your spirit? Some spiritual battles can not be fought by the flesh but nevertheless can the spirit fail to solve physical matters. The life we are living is supernatural, metaphysical and it takes the heart of the spirit to open up the undiscovered doors of the supernatural hidden in  the whelms of the spirit and gives the faith to the body for them to manifest in the physical. But this can only be done when the spirit has control to your everything. It knows already what you want but it will be waiting for the authority. How can you give authority to the spirit? You need to fight this battle. Fight the common reasoning of the mind that covers a way to your sense of realization. Feed your spirit everyday that it will be fit enough to stand every battle. Humble your heart and make your body believe that the spirit can do it. Trust and have faith in your plans, have faith in what you haven't discovered. Open your eyes in the dark and see light all over and make it happen. The power of creation regenerates from your inner being, stop overshadowing it from creating. Then you will understand that this is the battle worthy fighting for.
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5
I think way too much and I know I should stop cause it's bad for me But something tells me not to and somehow it's like it regenerates me like I don't need a battery I just need some of my brains energy And I could stay up for eternity And I'm telling you                                   it's hurting me
0
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Idk