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"regrettably" poems
A beautiful mind like no other I've known, Intelligence, passion and vulnerability are shown, Deep fears and desires haunt her through the night, Her words speak to me, filling my darkness with light. I wish I could express to her the way I feel, Though I doubt she would even believe it's real, Regrettably my crush barely knows of my existence, All I can do is admire her from a distance.
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Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:16 PM UTC
Twitter Crush
The bellowing clouds of smoke The paralyzing threats of death To the residents down below Holding on to dear breath Choking throats stinging eyes By the languid sulphur laden air White powdered ashes everywhere There's nothing that they could do Because nobody can say no To a volcano It can erupt at anytime if it wants to They're uncertain what to do, follow Their hearts to stay where they are Or follow the orders to evacuate The folks can see fire and smoke from afar They've to move from there before it's too late Because the volcano could boil over It's brewing up in the creater They've to leave their belongings Behind them and say farewell To the chicken the ducks and geese The cows the dogs and the cats as well Or take some of them if they please Take along the important documents And regrettably flee for fear from their homes Before the fiery lava will leave Their huts to remnants They can't say no because The Bali King the 'spokesperson' For the Gods won't listen to their pleadings And why it's throwing up it's tantrum Because the Gods have spoken The Gods are angry at them And they've to sacrifice all Their belongings to appease the Gods Because they know the volcano Knows they can't say no To the volcano
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Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
Can't Say No To A Volcano
I want you not. No, my heart can beat without you, So I don't yearn so desperately for you, I wake not in the middle of the night waiting for you, not able to sleep until I see you, I wait not at my phone wanting you to call me whispering words of earnest and encouragement, Never do I walk around the park wondering where you are, But I need you, As stupid as it sounds, You may not consume my every thought, But your existence is vital to mine. And I did not want nor ask for this. But my heart and every heartbeat are in vain for living without you is impossible For though I can go on not wanting you, I am so utterly and desperately in need of you more then I have ever wanted to be or even should, Nobody should need somebody so terribly, But I regrettably do, For without you a 'Me' would be well, a worthless piece of **** without meaning, But with a you, that me has a purpose, Though it not be finite or ideal, It is a purpose whatsoever, Although I should not need you so **** much, Especially since you seem to be living life just fine without me, But my thoughts and pounding heart go on in the hope that one day you will actually need me, As I have been in so long of need of you
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Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 8:46 PM UTC
I don't want you. But I need you.
I’m no longer in the dating scene Because I know exactly what I need Someone on the right spiritual path To be a good example to my seed You don’t have to have your money right You just have to have the right mind Promise to support me and follow God And only love and peace you will find For God will be our presiding priest And Christ as my best man While the Almighty Father walks you down the aisle To place yours into my hand So if you’d like to court this disciple You must study to show thyself approved Must truly know our God and have sins forgiven Or find yourself regrettably removed
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
Not Dating. Qualifying.
Crawling on all fours, traffic drags its bleeding body forward.   Men with collars of lipstick tap tap tap their fingers against steering wheels.   Time slows, cars inch, passing hands find cigarettes, cigarettes find fire.   Tap ash tap finds tap pavement.   This is the unobserved hiatus of daily routines, the dreaded stretch of heaven that separates from and to.   During such moments of inertia thoughts drift through open windows forming a cloud for bargains, regrets, wishes, doubts, prayers, and curses to perform cotillion upon.   Faster, faster, so quickly now, oh, change partners, switch lanes, spin, oh baby spin, fasterfasterfaster, until differentiation is impossible, until drivers become one with this steel river, until minds make their essential switch that makes home a bearable punishment.   Someone has broken down.   Do Not Stop. They are shunned from the sweeping mob of machinery.  Necks swivel in uniform towards this abomination, how dare they, how DARE they outshine our misery.  Perspiration works its way down backs and pools into leather cracks.   Will it ever end? Do we want it to?   Finally, regrettably, the final exit, the last few feet of purgatory.   We descend into the next inferno where we leap through fiery hoops of interrogation— yes no it was fine yes okay.   We are exhausted.   If only we would have stopped.   If only we would have hit the brakes and remained in our haven of anxiety and lust and confusion and endless searching.   Our love affair with traffic can only last so long.     So we make solemn promises to ourselves to appreciate tomorrow’s,     to run our fingers along the satin thighs of the freeway,     to plant a rubber kiss upon the ground.   How tap long tap until tap five?
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
An Affair
Crawling on all fours, traffic drags its bleeding body forward.   Men with collars of lipstick tap tap tap their fingers against steering wheels.   Time slows, cars inch, passing hands find cigarettes, cigarettes find fire.   Tap ash tap finds tap pavement.   This is the unobserved hiatus of daily routines, the dreaded stretch of heaven that separates from and to.   During such moments of inertia thoughts drift through open windows forming a cloud for bargains, regrets, wishes, doubts, prayers, and curses to perform cotillion upon.   Faster, faster, so quickly now, oh, change partners, switch lanes, spin, oh baby spin, fasterfasterfaster, until differentiation is impossible, until drivers become one with this steel river, until minds make their essential switch that makes home a bearable punishment.   Someone has broken down.   Do Not Stop. They are shunned from the sweeping mob of machinery.  Necks swivel in uniform towards this abomination, how dare they, how DARE they outshine our misery.  Perspiration works its way down backs and pools into leather cracks.   Will it ever end? Do we want it to?   Finally, regrettably, the final exit, the last few feet of purgatory.   We descend into the next inferno where we leap through fiery hoops of interrogation— yes no it was fine yes okay.   We are exhausted.   If only we would have stopped.   If only we would have hit the brakes and remained in our haven of anxiety and lust and confusion and endless searching.   Our love affair with traffic can only last so long.     So we make solemn promises to ourselves to appreciate tomorrow’s,     to run our fingers along the satin thighs of the freeway,     to plant a rubber kiss upon the ground.   How tap long tap until tap five?
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27
Tell me your dreams The desires which you so desperately crave Tell me so I can see the burning passion in your piercing eyes The sparkles that shine so prominently Tell me your fears The nightmares where dreaded creatures lurk in the darkness, attempting to penetrate your mind Tell me so I can prevent those common shadows before they befuddle and torment you The burning fury they obtain when they engulf you at your most vulnerable state Tell me how your mind works The intricate way for which those wonderful thoughts of yours flow Tell me how to be so magically profound about life, time, and death The ways of straying away from reality to catch a glimpse of paradise Tell me the forbidding truth about my unfortunate path The cold, naked, and abandoned road upon which I have regrettably travelled Tell me that paradise is at the bottom of a trench And I shall allow myself to fall-my life shall perish happily upon landing in paradise |s.s|
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Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
Midnight Wanderer
Regrettably recording these words, I’m not a poet or else this would probably flow, Though I could care less if you don’t want to hear what I have to say Because I’m comforted by a chance to reason the existence of a soul, So I could care less if you don’t need to be told that, I’m human and oh so vulnerable What more can I ask for? Able to feel the consequence of lusting for something more, I’m lucky enough to have escaped the 21st century womb, And avoid the convenience of a couple cuddling with a contraceptive Understanding that I might just get one chance to say, I’ve wanted to make the most of my time Since I’m physically deprived, What more can we ask for? Not sure what will happen when these lids seal eyes that were once bloodshot, I’m so scared of what lies after a life, My molecularly defected design, So I must reconcile with the fact that, My chance to survive without a heart and mind, Depends on how I use this time, As we look for the divine our intelligence derived, Glad to possibly experience the consequence of stepping out of line, So I could care less if you think I’m a detriment to society Since I desire to exist beyond the confines of what can be physically defined, Happy to discover that the divine was not stamped on the penny or the dime I’m now comforted by the consequences of being materialistically maimed, Because I didn't find spirituality through Sunday sips of wine Almost six feet down and comforted by our unknowns, Maybe you’ll remember me if you made sense of this, Because I’ve been counting the days before I’ll realize, If I made the most of my existence
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Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 6:58 AM UTC
Handicapped Unity
Regrettably recording these words, I’m not a poet or else this would probably flow, Though I could care less if you don’t want to hear what I have to say Because I’m comforted by a chance to reason the existence of a soul, So I could care less if you don’t need to be told that, I’m human and oh so vulnerable What more can I ask for? Able to feel the consequence of lusting for something more, I’m lucky enough to have escaped the 21st century womb, And avoid the convenience of a couple cuddling with a contraceptive Understanding that I might just get one chance to say, I’ve wanted to make the most of my time Since I’m physically deprived, What more can we ask for? Not sure what will happen when these lids seal eyes that were once bloodshot, I’m so scared of what lies after a life, My molecularly defected design, So I must reconcile with the fact that, My chance to survive without a heart and mind, Depends on how I use this time, As we look for the divine our intelligence derived, Glad to possibly experience the consequence of stepping out of line, So I could care less if you think I’m a detriment to society Since I desire to exist beyond the confines of what can be physically defined, Happy to discover that the divine was not stamped on the penny or the dime I’m now comforted by the consequences of being materialistically maimed, Because I didn't find spirituality through Sunday sips of wine Almost six feet down and comforted by our unknowns, Maybe you’ll remember me if you made sense of this, Because I’ve been counting the days before I’ll realize, If I made the most of my existence
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30
Bah, you make me hate my silence. I have always been a listener, An observer A thinker. A proverbial introvert. And I use to cherish it. I thought myself better because of it. But now, when I need most to talk I freeze and think instead. No, actually, I just freeze, with no thought Bah, you make me hate my silence Press me to talk Angel Ask me questions, any question, you know Ill answer. Ask me my dreams, my hopes My past, my present and future. And somewhere in all of that When I feel I can, I promise Ill start to talk more, Without you pressing me for it. Regrettably I am silent But I am more than willing to change If that will make you happy.
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
Regrettably I Am Silent
Bitter pill picnic tables set to prepare the banquet Pilgrims gorge until pillow stuffed full of itself and doubt Doubled over tummy ache: dummy done did to itself -regrettably- Pillow fluffed and mattress flipped to fight the mighty itis
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
Bitter pill picnic
Day Of The Deadly Living Nine to five, is what you work, both kids, think you're a **** Wife never wants *** not a phone call or even a text. Same job for ten long years, bills are in arrears. At diner, no one talks, empty is your money box. Staying together til kids turn eighteen, bad movie you'd never want put on screen. What a very depressing life, dead now, thanks to a knife. Sometimes life is unforgiving, day of the deadly living. Working graveyard shift at a factory, coming home alone is unsatisfactory. No wife, no girlfriend or even a ***** call, just Rosie, and Tara his blow up doll. Watching **** on the old laptop, its been so long, you need a mop. Couldn't get laid, even in a ***** house, up your *** you once stuck a mouse. No friends, neighbors hate you, all because they know, you knew. This poor guy never has no fun, dead now, thanks to a gun. His family died on Thanksgiving, day of the deadly living. College by day, at night a stripper, no candy jar, can't be a dipper. Only sleeps two hours a day, all night long men stalk their prey. Started snorting ******* gave up college, for a room of champagne. Now she is a coke ***** opens her legs, more than you open a door. She had no problem, just an addiction, a lost girl, with no direction. Blood gushing from the nose, dead now, thanks to an overdose. Three holes I'm regrettably digging, day of the deadly living.
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Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
Day Of The Deadly Living
I left you suspended in the air as a single thought expelled from a Southwest flight back from Oregon Everything is suspended in the air – the New York woman rushing through her beef sandwich to my left the woman at the window seat writing love letters to the woman who will pick her up at the airport and the way I imagined landing on the same runway as you back home, realizing sometimes turbulence remains even after landing realizing there is a reason we had the same destination but flew at different times. So much so that the New York woman next to me could be you and I her beef sandwich – chewed quietly, regrettably
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Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
Somewhere over the Midwest
It kills my high when venom is spit This enclosure, unlike mine, comes with a ****** narration Mine hears birds and owls wolves and crickets and bats and sees quite often starlight smells burning wood regrettably the occasional crisp arachnid Commonly scents of Cannabis Sativa, rarely Indica Incense, and punks There are sights of resin tables, half-inflated air mattresses, and ***** on the fence Cling of fence gate Car Cry of relief or adventure heat sleep aimlessness
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Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
Direction
What scares me is the whole concept of “Destroy to Rebuild”... I’ve been thinking about it and regrettably it seems highly unlikely that Humans will overthrow Bigotry and Segregation by any means other than being threatened to extinction as a Species. This is the only way Humans will thrive to unite together towards a common goal, which is SURVIVAL. ****
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Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 5:11 AM UTC
Destroy to Rebuild
I love U in every way! I love U'r smile, you brighten the day. I love U'r laughter, you lift my spirits. I love U'r voice, you sing to my heart. I love U'r eyes, you capture my soul. I love U'r witty humor, you make me want more. I love U'r passion for life, you inspire my passion. I love U'r very essence, you enchant me. I love U in every way! Regrettably from afar!
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Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:12 PM UTC
Taboo Love?
The people regrettably frown on Congress men with their pants down. Poor ****** was caught in a lie concerning unzipping his fly. Despite having just wed his bride ****** wanted some on the side. Now both sides of the aisle are atwitter that his twee-tie was a babysitter. He gave poor Ms Pelosi a fright when she saw that he hangs to the right. He looks in your eyes when he lies but I doubt anyone is surprised He was known as a distinguished member now a registered ****** offender
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Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 6:10 PM UTC
The Distinguished Member
You can't just dine; It's not time. Sleep, lines the bottoms of her eyes. The circles form overnight, deprivation, falsification. So if her common sense neglected? It's 'cause something bigger's detected. She doesn't mind being left behind. She would rather go slowly to watch the sunset, anyways. No reason to look behind the smokescreen (there are some things that no one needs to find.) Look on as she survives another attempt, kinetic in her learning. Pleading guilty in a non guilty crime. Avoiding awkward by jumping the fence to turn and step. Can't help the second nature, her reflexes from past experience stay quick-just to hate her. They taught her well, as she sought to dip-set (back to her speculum of normalcy.) Walking down the street, curbing the beat. Lights flicker in and out; shadow-boxing down the alleyways of her life. Her eyes may have welled, only to dry; in the heat of the moment, regrettably she could only, sigh. The one thing her mother taught her is to never believe in surprise. Collectively she will be waiting for the day and time when she gets hit from behind the lines, life flies by and she is not afraid to die. "And she will bite her bottom lip all she wants."
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May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
Sublime.
Default African, Yes I am, And a disgrace for that matter, Yet African with Katekism, I am supposed to be, Come rain, sunshine or high waters, I have betrayed you Africa, I have 'back-stabbed' you in the face, And spit rotten phlegm in the wound, Giant mother, With this badge of slavery I now proudly wear, **** me. Never have I washed my father, Or mother, Never have I washed my grandfather or grandmother, Neither of these have I ever dared looking after, Yet today, I assume total custodianship and curator-ship, I take care of some grandfather and grandmother, Somebody's father, Somebody's mother, Somebody's grandfather, Somebody's grandmother. Only yesterday I was told, Your father and mother passed away last year, And so did your brothers and sisters, And they were all buried like dogs, Their burials were the talk of town, How could you let that happen, How could you, And I am these enermies' comfortable door mate. My grandfathers were colonised, Because of our rich land, And now I have been extensively colonised, Because of their pound, Because of wanting to be a Westerner – overseas, Away from you, Continent of respect and dignity, Continent of dance and song, A continent pregnant with untold tales. My sick mind has been colonised, Graduating me into a nefarious modern commercial slave, Just but an echo of an old tune, A worse slave than my ancestor, The Kunta Kintes, I am a cheap voluntary slave, Who has been gratuitously deserted by his values, The African values. I stand accused before myself, I am a cumbrous culpable default African, An African who has lost his ebullient Africanness, A charlatan ********** African on a detour, A dismantled, shameless self destroyed pimple, A nauseating counterfeit second hand African, An extraneous stain on Africa's underwear, I am of as much value to Africa, As is an over- used ****** to a filthy growth point ********** Regrettably, that is the African I have become. How I wish I washed my father and mother, How I wish I washed my grandparents, How I wish I took care of them, The wish is killing me badly, I may as I have run away from you Africa, But never from Africanness, Litres of your blood flows in body pipes, I am because you are, I am a default African.
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Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:01 AM UTC
Default African
Default African, Yes I am, And a disgrace for that matter, Yet African with Katekism, I am supposed to be, Come rain, sunshine or high waters, I have betrayed you Africa, I have 'back-stabbed' you in the face, And spit rotten phlegm in the wound, Giant mother, With this badge of slavery I now proudly wear, **** me. Never have I washed my father, Or mother, Never have I washed my grandfather or grandmother, Neither of these have I ever dared looking after, Yet today, I assume total custodianship and curator-ship, I take care of some grandfather and grandmother, Somebody's father, Somebody's mother, Somebody's grandfather, Somebody's grandmother. Only yesterday I was told, Your father and mother passed away last year, And so did your brothers and sisters, And they were all buried like dogs, Their burials were the talk of town, How could you let that happen, How could you, And I am these enermies' comfortable door mate. My grandfathers were colonised, Because of our rich land, And now I have been extensively colonised, Because of their pound, Because of wanting to be a Westerner – overseas, Away from you, Continent of respect and dignity, Continent of dance and song, A continent pregnant with untold tales. My sick mind has been colonised, Graduating me into a nefarious modern commercial slave, Just but an echo of an old tune, A worse slave than my ancestor, The Kunta Kintes, I am a cheap voluntary slave, Who has been gratuitously deserted by his values, The African values. I stand accused before myself, I am a cumbrous culpable default African, An African who has lost his ebullient Africanness, A charlatan ********** African on a detour, A dismantled, shameless self destroyed pimple, A nauseating counterfeit second hand African, An extraneous stain on Africa's underwear, I am of as much value to Africa, As is an over- used ****** to a filthy growth point ********** Regrettably, that is the African I have become. How I wish I washed my father and mother, How I wish I washed my grandparents, How I wish I took care of them, The wish is killing me badly, I may as I have run away from you Africa, But never from Africanness, Litres of your blood flows in body pipes, I am because you are, I am a default African.
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66
i feel as if i hurt people not intentionally, more regrettably but nonetheless i wonder if it stings whenever i move farther away every time i'm pulled closer to someone or something it hurts for me, though i'll never admit i hurt people, and through this i hurt myself but i don't know how to stop how to make myself well, if my state of mind is stuck on an unreachable plane then how can i rectify my past how can i redefine my mistakes? i dreamt once that the world was against me but in the end i discovered a mirror and in that moment i realized that i'm really just against myself
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Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Mirror of Myself
What to do.. What to do, This silence of blue hues. The soundless color intercedes, and blocks my field of view. Lonely eyes inverted and blind. A coating worn so lightly. Irradiated silence... It seems to shine so brightly. Slumbered in solitude, caged in sky. For months I've been away. I hear them bellow, a promise of yellow, yet, regrettably I'll stay. Submerged and drowning slowly. Drip by drip inhaled. Oxygen deprived, and word wrapped stake impaled. I'll trip and stumble my way out. Eventually unleashed. For now my silenced eyes take lead, as I slip away from me.
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Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
My Corner of Blue
Do you hear that? Screaming silently Into the night My might Is heated regrettably My mood Is chaos ensued My life Is passion renewed Her face Is matched by few The visions Explode into my view All these things happen When a spark Burns anew
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Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 1:41 AM UTC
Supernova
The reason why I always forget, Why my life would always reset To some kind of euphoric state; In a phase of unflawed perfection Your voice: it's some pleasing sound And to this, I am happily bound 'Tis the drug that I truly love most 'Tis the crime—this crime is why I live My thoughts would always stop with you But one thing I regrettably knew: Your thoughts you have, when about me— Opposite from mine: in that exact direction Yet my love: so overly ignited— In addition, obviously unrequited Yet let this be known: that I won't give up That my all in all: I will to give
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
Unrequited I
That distant memory - a used balloon that has already served it's purpose Unable to soar pronounced as it once were Only to bobble from my path deflated and regrettably forgotten
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Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 2:08 AM UTC
Regrettably Forgotten