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"relates" poems
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream, as if somehow the county, relates to their regime? Trying to push on others their far right views, and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be, I do love a bit of local pride... maybe to revel in the comfort it provides, and even though stereotypes say we're tight, as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right), But I'd rather that, than be uptight, like a stereotypical southerner might I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie, “England has a bottom half, but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north” The North in the south means desolation, A cultural wasteland with deserted stations, a place built on violent, aggressive foundations, With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations, Nothing that comes close to a nation.... But that's not what I see, To be from the north means good fish and chips, with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips, I see people willing to lend a hand, A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop that you never planned, It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll, Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal, Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl. We should still all have a similar goal, To have a good time, and not hurt a soul Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide, but I'll always welcome people from the other side, Acceptance is not sin, and if you let it, it generally ends up with a win : win What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
0
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
The Divide
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream, as if somehow the county, relates to their regime? Trying to push on others their far right views, and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be, I do love a bit of local pride... maybe to revel in the comfort it provides, and even though stereotypes say we're tight, as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right), But I'd rather that, than be uptight, like a stereotypical southerner might I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie, “England has a bottom half, but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north” The North in the south means desolation, A cultural wasteland with deserted stations, a place built on violent, aggressive foundations, With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations, Nothing that comes close to a nation.... But that's not what I see, To be from the north means good fish and chips, with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips, I see people willing to lend a hand, A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop that you never planned, It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll, Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal, Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl. We should still all have a similar goal, To have a good time, and not hurt a soul Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide, but I'll always welcome people from the other side, Acceptance is not sin, and if you let it, it generally ends up with a win : win What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
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37
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
0
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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18
Forest inquires: How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise, give it a face, surrender to the poem's own vanity,         and choose the poem's alignment?                                                   an answer forms: this alignment idea, you think it simple, everybody understands what your inquiry means alignment -  the appropriate relative position we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer                                                                                         from the Theory of Poetic Relativity                                                                 i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,                                                                     smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;                                                                         kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal; for you see sir you have found the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;                                  answer no good, wholly insufficient?                                         perfect.                           as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note                                                                                    the earth has moved                                 our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times                                     time and space have appropriated our prior                                            relativity when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading   and what was right before has left and the center has moved again
0
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
alignment (The Theory of Poetic Relativity)
Forest inquires: How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise, give it a face, surrender to the poem's own vanity,         and choose the poem's alignment?                                                   an answer forms: this alignment idea, you think it simple, everybody understands what your inquiry means alignment -  the appropriate relative position we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer                                                                                         from the Theory of Poetic Relativity                                                                 i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,                                                                     smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;                                                                         kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal; for you see sir you have found the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;                                  answer no good, wholly insufficient?                                         perfect.                           as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note                                                                                    the earth has moved                                 our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times                                     time and space have appropriated our prior                                            relativity when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading   and what was right before has left and the center has moved again
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28
Regardless how precise the assay of their life, Most men must remain an enigma; Their motivation fired by inner strife A polymorph for which no sigma, Nor algebraic symbol will suffice. No If and then which personality To a course of action thus relates, Nor can it be hypothesized conditionally, The turmoil emotion intrinsically creates, When alone they stare into death's reality. Two dimensional is the biography of any man. We see his length and width, never grasping depth, Though fortune deems we live within his span. Much like this into my life have crept Those I love, yet may never understand.
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Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
Empirical Breakdown
Personal REPOST - Not a poem. ~~~~~~~~~ My guardian Archangel is Ariel known as the Goddess of nature like I am Ariel Archangel heals the planet animals responsible for natural elements Earth, wind, water, and fire. Ariel's role as an archangel relates to inspiration. Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split. Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend as last resort! Aries-born people are favorited for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted to their uninhibitedness and a wild personality. Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire! Unlike any other zodiac sign, Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves they avoid competition For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~ Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life! Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~ Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you! Aries are quite confident energetic and a bit of a daredevil it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed or being forgotten. Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments achievements under their belt. ~~~~~ When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions. Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate, inclined towards exploration, and a little bit scary ~when set off.~ Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head spinning your inner thighs Your Aries will become a puff of smoke and be GONE Aries born women are fire and ice cold and hot symultaneously in your arms If you are ever kissed by an Aries you are truly loved cherished and adored but only if, if, you reciprocate fully ~~~~~~~~~ Defined by: Karijinbba
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Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
April Aries Me
Personal REPOST - Not a poem. ~~~~~~~~~ My guardian Archangel is Ariel known as the Goddess of nature like I am Ariel Archangel heals the planet animals responsible for natural elements Earth, wind, water, and fire. Ariel's role as an archangel relates to inspiration. Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split. Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend as last resort! Aries-born people are favorited for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted to their uninhibitedness and a wild personality. Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire! Unlike any other zodiac sign, Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves they avoid competition For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~ Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life! Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~ Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you! Aries are quite confident energetic and a bit of a daredevil it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed or being forgotten. Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments achievements under their belt. ~~~~~ When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions. Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate, inclined towards exploration, and a little bit scary ~when set off.~ Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head spinning your inner thighs Your Aries will become a puff of smoke and be GONE Aries born women are fire and ice cold and hot symultaneously in your arms If you are ever kissed by an Aries you are truly loved cherished and adored but only if, if, you reciprocate fully ~~~~~~~~~ Defined by: Karijinbba
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55
*Real learning we learn from a red bicycle.. Movement is conversation of oppositions.. Without conversation differences reign.. We soon find multiplicity growing and peace disturbed.. Red reminds us each difference relates to other differences.. Relating is unifying bringing the peace Red turns Blue...*
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Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
The Red Bicycle
Changing Names and Changing Faces Changing Times and Changing Places The emptiness remains the same The Sunna Sutta, Part of the Pali canon, Relates that the monk Ananda, Buddha's attendant asked, "It is said that the world is empty, the world is empty, lord. In what respects is it said that the world is empty?" The Buddha replied, "Insofar as it is empty of a self Or of anything pertaining to a self: Thus it is said, Ananda, that the world is empty. Form is emptiness Emptiness is form Emptiness is not separate from form, Form is not separate from emptiness Whatever is form is emptiness, Whatever is emptiness is form One time to the next time That is all it is Try to be a good person Be kind to others Show others the love that Jesus showed I just want a good friend is all That would be nice Someone to share my life with
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
The emptiness
Okay The Vibe To Write... Is Now A Part of My Life... It’s Just A BEAUTIFUL Thing... !!! When I Start To Think... And Start Writing Lyrics... That QUICKLY Sink... Into Papers Where Ink... ... Display Wordplay... That Comes From My Brain... It’s A Vibe That Invites... ..... REALITY Lines..... RATHER Than THOSE... Where Lines of WHITE... Create Mental DOPES... Who Embrace That Coc’... !!! Or Yes... ******* That They’re QUICK To CLAIM... Helps To Keep Them STRAIGHT... ?!? The Vibe When I Write... INFLAMES MY BRAIN... !!! With Things To Say... About The World Today... From GREATS Like USAIN... !!! To Things LESS HUMANE... That Are NOT So Great... !!! You Know What I’m Saying... ? Or..... DO YOU..... ?!? Cos’ The Vibe When I Write... Is... NOT For Fools... !!! Who DON’T Use Their Brain Tool... So..... Is That YOU... ?!? One Who’s Confused... When It Comes To What’s TRUE... Cos’ The Vibe When I Write... REJECTS Those In DENIAL... It’s A Style That Profiles... A Great Deal MORE... Than... Peoples’ Green Miles... !!! It Relates To Flicks... That EXPOSE How We Live... But Also Deals... In Things MORE REAL... !!! Than Things That Are Filmed... On... 8 Millimetre Reels... !!! Because Words I Write... Do Not Promote Lies... !!! Or... FALLACIES... The Vibe When I Write... Is..... REALITY........ So ISN'T Written To Deceive... Or Make People... ANGRY... !!! ... It Is What It IS.... So... If The Cap Fits... You’d Better Deal With It... !!! You See The Vibe When I Write... ISN'T MOULDED To PLEASE... Because THAT ISN’T Poetry To Me... !!! It’s About Being REAL... And Relating What You See... In Ways That Display... TRUTH And HONESTY... !!! And Reflections On Life... All It’s Lows And HIGHS... !!!! And Those Last Lines... Are The Things That DEFINE... Why... Whether Day Or Night... I Continually Find That My Mind’s Eye... QUICKLY Provides A Mind Like Mine... With... ... “ The Vibe To Write “...
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Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 11:44 PM UTC
“The Vibe To Write” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 24/6/2020
Okay The Vibe To Write... Is Now A Part of My Life... It’s Just A BEAUTIFUL Thing... !!! When I Start To Think... And Start Writing Lyrics... That QUICKLY Sink... Into Papers Where Ink... ... Display Wordplay... That Comes From My Brain... It’s A Vibe That Invites... ..... REALITY Lines..... RATHER Than THOSE... Where Lines of WHITE... Create Mental DOPES... Who Embrace That Coc’... !!! Or Yes... ******* That They’re QUICK To CLAIM... Helps To Keep Them STRAIGHT... ?!? The Vibe When I Write... INFLAMES MY BRAIN... !!! With Things To Say... About The World Today... From GREATS Like USAIN... !!! To Things LESS HUMANE... That Are NOT So Great... !!! You Know What I’m Saying... ? Or..... DO YOU..... ?!? Cos’ The Vibe When I Write... Is... NOT For Fools... !!! Who DON’T Use Their Brain Tool... So..... Is That YOU... ?!? One Who’s Confused... When It Comes To What’s TRUE... Cos’ The Vibe When I Write... REJECTS Those In DENIAL... It’s A Style That Profiles... A Great Deal MORE... Than... Peoples’ Green Miles... !!! It Relates To Flicks... That EXPOSE How We Live... But Also Deals... In Things MORE REAL... !!! Than Things That Are Filmed... On... 8 Millimetre Reels... !!! Because Words I Write... Do Not Promote Lies... !!! Or... FALLACIES... The Vibe When I Write... Is..... REALITY........ So ISN'T Written To Deceive... Or Make People... ANGRY... !!! ... It Is What It IS.... So... If The Cap Fits... You’d Better Deal With It... !!! You See The Vibe When I Write... ISN'T MOULDED To PLEASE... Because THAT ISN’T Poetry To Me... !!! It’s About Being REAL... And Relating What You See... In Ways That Display... TRUTH And HONESTY... !!! And Reflections On Life... All It’s Lows And HIGHS... !!!! And Those Last Lines... Are The Things That DEFINE... Why... Whether Day Or Night... I Continually Find That My Mind’s Eye... QUICKLY Provides A Mind Like Mine... With... ... “ The Vibe To Write “...
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70
My heart's so tied up I can hardly breathe. It seems, to me, that every scent is yours every sight or sound, song lyric or strip of poetry relates back to you and the knot in my chest. I best recruit a young sailor to untie and bend these cravings. These faint and vague desires not to kiss you nor to **** you but to see you, lay with you, be with you. That is what I crave daily, what I need to loosen this knot. *But the knot just tightens.* I crave to see you alone on a walk or you with others or you with me. I especially crave to see you with me. O' that which I'd give to see you with me. It must have been the grass or the beers or the LSD because no natural occasion could make me feel this way. I first heard you before I saw, singing across the fence. Your voice was like cream in hot coffee scintillating, mesmerizing fascinating, and light; a drop of sweet in the dark, dark bitter. I never knew that drinking coffee black would soon become impossible. *Everything is bitter when you've tasted sweet.* It's something in the way you visibly think about the world and others actions and everything I say and do; something in the way you care. It's something in the way you spit, claiming the concrete as your own, a primal beast. You are an incarnadine being, a vastly deep creature whose curls I can be lost in for hours and days if not for those eyes. Those eyes steal me with every glance, dark mines of copper and fool's gold. But pyrite is the sheen to which my mind melts, and Scorpio sun signs paint the mystique that keeps me awake and alert all through the night You keep me awake and alert, waiting for the next move. Yes, I'd be a liar if I said I felt friendship for you and a heretic if I dared to touch you. But you dare to touch me. Every day, you brush your hand 'gainst my leg, grab my shoulder and hold, knock your knee upon mine, you push me gently, but I die when you grab my thigh, grab my thigh and squeeze it tightly reassuring me that you're there you're real you're caring for me and when the goodbyes come **** the goodbyes* you hug me so closely and so tightly that my heart, knotted as it is, beats faster than it ever has. I swear that it beats faster than it ever could. And in this speed, this conflagration of emotion, I feel how the knot only tightens to where even the youngest sailor lacks the nimbility to loosen it. I swear that it's much tighter than it ever was; that no one has stressed my mind so, kept my heart strained to where it beats faster than it ever could, it beats faster yet, than the rush of a train upon steel.
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
A Knot
My heart's so tied up I can hardly breathe. It seems, to me, that every scent is yours every sight or sound, song lyric or strip of poetry relates back to you and the knot in my chest. I best recruit a young sailor to untie and bend these cravings. These faint and vague desires not to kiss you nor to **** you but to see you, lay with you, be with you. That is what I crave daily, what I need to loosen this knot. *But the knot just tightens.* I crave to see you alone on a walk or you with others or you with me. I especially crave to see you with me. O' that which I'd give to see you with me. It must have been the grass or the beers or the LSD because no natural occasion could make me feel this way. I first heard you before I saw, singing across the fence. Your voice was like cream in hot coffee scintillating, mesmerizing fascinating, and light; a drop of sweet in the dark, dark bitter. I never knew that drinking coffee black would soon become impossible. *Everything is bitter when you've tasted sweet.* It's something in the way you visibly think about the world and others actions and everything I say and do; something in the way you care. It's something in the way you spit, claiming the concrete as your own, a primal beast. You are an incarnadine being, a vastly deep creature whose curls I can be lost in for hours and days if not for those eyes. Those eyes steal me with every glance, dark mines of copper and fool's gold. But pyrite is the sheen to which my mind melts, and Scorpio sun signs paint the mystique that keeps me awake and alert all through the night You keep me awake and alert, waiting for the next move. Yes, I'd be a liar if I said I felt friendship for you and a heretic if I dared to touch you. But you dare to touch me. Every day, you brush your hand 'gainst my leg, grab my shoulder and hold, knock your knee upon mine, you push me gently, but I die when you grab my thigh, grab my thigh and squeeze it tightly reassuring me that you're there you're real you're caring for me and when the goodbyes come **** the goodbyes* you hug me so closely and so tightly that my heart, knotted as it is, beats faster than it ever has. I swear that it beats faster than it ever could. And in this speed, this conflagration of emotion, I feel how the knot only tightens to where even the youngest sailor lacks the nimbility to loosen it. I swear that it's much tighter than it ever was; that no one has stressed my mind so, kept my heart strained to where it beats faster than it ever could, it beats faster yet, than the rush of a train upon steel.
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91
The Land of Nod (Hebrew: ארץ נוד‬, eretz-Nod) is a place mentioned in the Book of Genesis of the Hebrew Bible, located "on the east of Eden" (qidmat-‘Eden), where Cain was exiled by God after Cain had murdered his brother Abel; According to Genesis 4:16: _And Cain went out from the presence of the LORD, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden._ (וַיֵּ֥צֵא קַ֖יִן מִלִּפְנֵ֣י יְהוָ֑ה וַיֵּ֥שֶׁב בְּאֶֽרֶץ־נֹ֖וד קִדְמַת־עֵֽדֶן‬) "Nod" (נוד) is the Hebrew root of the verb "to wander" (לנדוד). Therefore, to dwell in the land of Nod is usually taken to mean that one takes up a wandering life. Genesis 4:17 relates that after arriving in the Land of Nod, Cain's wife bore him a son, _Enoch_, in whose name he built the first city; "Nod" (נוד‬) is the Hebrew root of the verb "to wander" (לנדוד‬). Therefore, to dwell in the land of Nod can mean to live a wandering life; Gesenius defines (נוּד‬) as follows: _TO BE MOVED, TO BE AGITATED_ (Arab. ناد Med. Waw id.), used of a reed shaken by the wind, 1Ki.14:15; hence to wander, to be a fugitive, Jer. 4:1; Gen. 4:12, 14; Ps.56:9; to flee, Ps. 11:1; Jer. 49:30. Figuratively, Isa. 17:11, נֵד קָצִיר‬ "the harvest has fled" ["but see נֵד‬ ," which some take in this place as the subst.] Much as Cain's name is connected to the verb meaning "to get" in Genesis 4:1, the name "Nod" closely resembles the word "nad" (נָ֖ד‬), usually translated as "vagabond", in Genesis 4:12. (In the Septuagint's rendering of the same verse, God curses Cain                   to τρέμων, "trembling") A Greek version of Nod written as Ναίν appearing in the _Onomastica Vaticana_ possibly derives from the plural נחים‬, which relates to resting and sleeping; This derivation, coincidentally or not, connects with the English pun on "nod"; Josephus wrote in Antiquities of the Jews (c. AD 93) that Cain continued his wickedness in Nod: resorting to violence and robbery; establishing weights and measures; transforming human culture from innocence into craftiness and deceit; establishing property lines; and building a fortified city; Nod is said to be outside of the presence or face of God: Origen defined Nod   as the land of trembling and wrote   that it symbolized the condition of all who forsake God; Early commentators treated it as the opposite of Eden (worse still than the land of exile for the rest of humanity);  In the English tradition Nod was sometimes              described as a desert     inhabited only by ferocious beasts or monsters; Others interpreted      Nod as dark or even underground—away from the face of God— Augustine described unconverted Jews as dwellers in the land of Nod, which he defined as commotion and "carnal disquietude"
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
The Land of Nod
The Land of Nod (Hebrew: ארץ נוד‬, eretz-Nod) is a place mentioned in the Book of Genesis of the Hebrew Bible, located "on the east of Eden" (qidmat-‘Eden), where Cain was exiled by God after Cain had murdered his brother Abel; According to Genesis 4:16: _And Cain went out from the presence of the LORD, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden._ (וַיֵּ֥צֵא קַ֖יִן מִלִּפְנֵ֣י יְהוָ֑ה וַיֵּ֥שֶׁב בְּאֶֽרֶץ־נֹ֖וד קִדְמַת־עֵֽדֶן‬) "Nod" (נוד) is the Hebrew root of the verb "to wander" (לנדוד). Therefore, to dwell in the land of Nod is usually taken to mean that one takes up a wandering life. Genesis 4:17 relates that after arriving in the Land of Nod, Cain's wife bore him a son, _Enoch_, in whose name he built the first city; "Nod" (נוד‬) is the Hebrew root of the verb "to wander" (לנדוד‬). Therefore, to dwell in the land of Nod can mean to live a wandering life; Gesenius defines (נוּד‬) as follows: _TO BE MOVED, TO BE AGITATED_ (Arab. ناد Med. Waw id.), used of a reed shaken by the wind, 1Ki.14:15; hence to wander, to be a fugitive, Jer. 4:1; Gen. 4:12, 14; Ps.56:9; to flee, Ps. 11:1; Jer. 49:30. Figuratively, Isa. 17:11, נֵד קָצִיר‬ "the harvest has fled" ["but see נֵד‬ ," which some take in this place as the subst.] Much as Cain's name is connected to the verb meaning "to get" in Genesis 4:1, the name "Nod" closely resembles the word "nad" (נָ֖ד‬), usually translated as "vagabond", in Genesis 4:12. (In the Septuagint's rendering of the same verse, God curses Cain                   to τρέμων, "trembling") A Greek version of Nod written as Ναίν appearing in the _Onomastica Vaticana_ possibly derives from the plural נחים‬, which relates to resting and sleeping; This derivation, coincidentally or not, connects with the English pun on "nod"; Josephus wrote in Antiquities of the Jews (c. AD 93) that Cain continued his wickedness in Nod: resorting to violence and robbery; establishing weights and measures; transforming human culture from innocence into craftiness and deceit; establishing property lines; and building a fortified city; Nod is said to be outside of the presence or face of God: Origen defined Nod   as the land of trembling and wrote   that it symbolized the condition of all who forsake God; Early commentators treated it as the opposite of Eden (worse still than the land of exile for the rest of humanity);  In the English tradition Nod was sometimes              described as a desert     inhabited only by ferocious beasts or monsters; Others interpreted      Nod as dark or even underground—away from the face of God— Augustine described unconverted Jews as dwellers in the land of Nod, which he defined as commotion and "carnal disquietude"
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62
My dear, do you want to know why this stream shall never cease to flow why this countenance shall know no smile why in vain you realease torent of bile for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run cut off from every string joint to my mind to recall no more that gruesome day Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay how my heart tremble while my tongue relates the incident that turned an early widow late the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed) a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall so as the pregnant night did flipped departed then this poor widow to her field to gather bread for her fatherless kids then in agony their lips they bit as their eyes rained in torrent and their sobs grew even fervent when the fatal tiding was unleashed a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam in her distant and lonely farm a branch uphigh cracked turned she to see the source of the crack behold a log fell on her skull pouring out what was left of her brain- all keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond a place so gray, so blund now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared departed they to various kins to be rared and daily this dirge about her goes as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow forget not the story of the unfortunate widow who for the door, took the window and drank not from the spring of old age nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
0
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 7:05 AM UTC
The Unfortunate Widow
My dear, do you want to know why this stream shall never cease to flow why this countenance shall know no smile why in vain you realease torent of bile for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run cut off from every string joint to my mind to recall no more that gruesome day Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay how my heart tremble while my tongue relates the incident that turned an early widow late the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed) a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall so as the pregnant night did flipped departed then this poor widow to her field to gather bread for her fatherless kids then in agony their lips they bit as their eyes rained in torrent and their sobs grew even fervent when the fatal tiding was unleashed a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam in her distant and lonely farm a branch uphigh cracked turned she to see the source of the crack behold a log fell on her skull pouring out what was left of her brain- all keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond a place so gray, so blund now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared departed they to various kins to be rared and daily this dirge about her goes as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow forget not the story of the unfortunate widow who for the door, took the window and drank not from the spring of old age nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
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45
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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18
IF you are not a tantric how could you know tantric have secrets? How did you know Freemasons in the lodge hidden away have secrets too? This is tantrism We know  tantra means loom weaving, but what is woven together? Like the right and left hands grasping…is that where true prayer happens? *opposites magnetic union pragmatic cosmic dramatic* *dharmma and a-dharmma , duty and rule breaking Sage or Demon, * the tantric sees the fullness of the tapestry before it is woven Fire, Earth, Water, and Wind… The breeze blows and There I am Masculine power seems to require hierarchy to pass on the sounds of the absurd So if you hear their's in secret and bring to bear its use you may will fail… but if an enlightened woman, warm with shakti glowing gives it to you hold on for it is yours This keeps the inside safe from the outside. Keeping harm from the uninitiated. How many secrets do you really know? the 108 sanguine rose beads keep track like divine fingers across an abacus tracing the age of the cosmos Would be immortals know of 5 dangerous things that could swallow you What do you know of the imbibement of meat-fish-wine Next Was it secret gestures or parched grain??? Symbols set to confuse the rest the secret remains the same Forbidden in kind the ****** relates to the mind being undone, Mold Antipode to the Classic Culture the mortal and immortal human and divine are secrets Immortal? Like Ouroboros the Consumption may consume you…or free you.
0
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
How many Secrets do you Really know (ಥ_ಥ)
We are outcasts Children born into dark We listen to music that relates to us We try to stand up and make our mark Everyone thinks we cut Or that we are depressed They joke around and say mean things Think we worship Satan and try to bless But that's not who we are That's not all we do We cry, and laugh We can love too Yes, we may cut And we may want to cry But all you think we do is Wish that we could die
0
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Emo
the devil on my shoulder is also my best friend not because i enjoy his company but he's the only one who will listen the angel on my shoulder left after too many mistakes said i was breaking his tiny heart didn't know how much more he could take so the devil now is my only confidant the only one who helps me out sure we get into some trouble but he never has a doubt he doesn't leave when things get hard and i know why that is he likes to see my life spiral downwards because then it relates to his
0
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
devil on my shoulder
I lie awake And think about everything I hate Everything that relates To my past Old habits coming back And I have to adapt To the overwhelming amounts of self hate The new scars on my arm Tell me that I've come a long way They will eventually go away And then I can focus on each day My thoughts and my feelings Happen to be two different things My thoughts control my feelings But my feelings cause my thoughts So I ought to reevaluate my life choices Even though I don't have many Only ones I regret And then you come along And make my heart strong I can't help but feel like the universe owes me one Or two Or three I'm not picky I just want something extraordinary To make up for all the holes that are left of me Maybe I over think things I try not feel But think too much to makes sure that everything is real I'm thinking myself into depression Regression Every thought leads to violent expression And I just need someone to look at me And say that I'm okay My thoughts lead me away from anything that involves positivity Just say that you believe in me And that you will never leave me Why sleep when I can think Why think when I can sleep Maybe if I think about sleeping it will happen Everything around me slowly becomes everything that's hurt me I don't want to die I just need to find a reason to stay alive
0
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
Over Thinking
The Batman Movie (a review). The clues part was cool, but the end of it got boring. I liked that Batman kept a journal - I like the idea of men keeping journals, because, do men have many thoughts they share? Men’s thinking seems so ephemeral. In this Batman resurrection, Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne & Batman are Kurt-Cobain-like emo and that seemed to work. Didn’t you just want to take your hand and get his hair out of his eyes? I think guys should have hair - I like hair on guys, not buzz cuts. I liked the muscle-car Batmobile. I liked Zoey Kravitz, she was girl power, but not in a hot girl way, she had her own motivations, she wasn’t just in danger and served up to fuel Batman. The movie is too long though. They need to bring back movie intermissions - I’d vote for that. As usual, I drank my giant slurpee and ate ½ my popcorn before the twenty minutes of previews were finished. It’s a three hour movie. I had to *** so bad by the time the movie was ¾ over that I was grinding on my popcorn bucket to keep it in. I finally had to make a dash for the bathroom - I was afraid I’d miss the KISS scene. Argh! Let’s talk about Robert Pattinson, the actor, and his arch from Twilight to Batman. Of course, doesn’t every vampire turn into a bat? (joke) but it’s always Pattinson being moody, being hot, figuring himself out and the introspective man - the broody man. Are broody men **** I don’t like broody men in real life - I feel that only one of us gets to be moody in a relationship - and it’s going to be me. Pattinson seems almost zany and cheeky in RL so the brood is his method act. I Like that Pattinson didn’t buff-up for the role - I think the buffed-up muscle-man as superhero perfection somehow relates to capitalism. Pattinson’s American accent was good. What was missing from the movie was horniness. Batman didn’t seem HOT for Cat-girl - he just stood there for her to kiss. What’s boy-girl attraction if it’s not horniness? Where has the horniness gone in movies? Sexiness is missing from ALL the superhero movies - I guess the age demo is too young. I give it three out of five stars
0
Apr 28, 2022
Apr 28, 2022 at 7:02 AM UTC
the Batman movie
The Batman Movie (a review). The clues part was cool, but the end of it got boring. I liked that Batman kept a journal - I like the idea of men keeping journals, because, do men have many thoughts they share? Men’s thinking seems so ephemeral. In this Batman resurrection, Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne & Batman are Kurt-Cobain-like emo and that seemed to work. Didn’t you just want to take your hand and get his hair out of his eyes? I think guys should have hair - I like hair on guys, not buzz cuts. I liked the muscle-car Batmobile. I liked Zoey Kravitz, she was girl power, but not in a hot girl way, she had her own motivations, she wasn’t just in danger and served up to fuel Batman. The movie is too long though. They need to bring back movie intermissions - I’d vote for that. As usual, I drank my giant slurpee and ate ½ my popcorn before the twenty minutes of previews were finished. It’s a three hour movie. I had to *** so bad by the time the movie was ¾ over that I was grinding on my popcorn bucket to keep it in. I finally had to make a dash for the bathroom - I was afraid I’d miss the KISS scene. Argh! Let’s talk about Robert Pattinson, the actor, and his arch from Twilight to Batman. Of course, doesn’t every vampire turn into a bat? (joke) but it’s always Pattinson being moody, being hot, figuring himself out and the introspective man - the broody man. Are broody men **** I don’t like broody men in real life - I feel that only one of us gets to be moody in a relationship - and it’s going to be me. Pattinson seems almost zany and cheeky in RL so the brood is his method act. I Like that Pattinson didn’t buff-up for the role - I think the buffed-up muscle-man as superhero perfection somehow relates to capitalism. Pattinson’s American accent was good. What was missing from the movie was horniness. Batman didn’t seem HOT for Cat-girl - he just stood there for her to kiss. What’s boy-girl attraction if it’s not horniness? Where has the horniness gone in movies? Sexiness is missing from ALL the superhero movies - I guess the age demo is too young. I give it three out of five stars
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Ah, heedless girl! why thus disclose What ne’er was meant for other ears; Why thus destroy thine own repose, And dig the source of future tears? Oh, thou wilt weep, imprudent maid, While lurking envious foes will smile, For all the follies thou hast said Of those who spoke but to beguile. Vain girl! thy lingering woes are nigh, If thou believ’st what striplings say: Oh, from the deep temptation fly, Nor fall the specious spoiler’s prey. Dost thou repeat, in childish boast, The words man utters to deceive? Thy peace, thy hope, thy all is lost, If thou canst venture to believe. While now amongst thy female peers Thou tell’st again the soothing tale, Canst thou not mark the rising sneers Duplicity in vain would veil? These tales in secret silence hush, Nor make thyself the public gaze: What modest maid without a blush Recounts a flattering coxcomb’s praise? Will not the laughing boy despise Her who relates each fond conceit— Who, thinking Heaven is in her eyes, Yet cannot see the slight deceit? For she who takes a soft delight These amorous nothings in revealing, Must credit all we say or write, While vanity prevents concealing. Cease, if you prize your Beauty’s reign! No jealousy bids me reprove: One, who is thus from nature vain, I pity, but I cannot love.
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1.9k
To A Vain Lady
He is safe. He is happiness. He is everything. He takes away the anxiety. He takes away the hurt. He takes away the pain. He makes you love yourself. He makes you feel like you aren’t alone. He keeps away the nightmares. He holds you. He tells you all the things you need to hear. He pushes you to be a better person. *Without him you are afraid. Without him you are unbearably sad. Without him you are nothing. Without him you are anxious and bed ridden. Without him you are ridden with depression. Without him you are in constant psychological pain. Without him you hate yourself. Without him you are alone and always will be. Without him you have nightmares and sleep paralysis that never seem to end. Without him you are cold. Without him you are no longer pretty- you are no longer anyone’s favourite person; you are no longer loved. Without him you’re an awful person and no one wants to be around you.* He is security. He is life. He is air. He makes you do things you never thought you could. You aren’t afraid to be with him. He makes the voices go away. He makes the paranoid feelings less intense. You can touch him without feeling like you’re having a heart attack. You can kiss him without feeling like you’re going to faint. You can lay with him and not feel like something bad is going to happen. *Without him you are lost. Without him you want to die- there’s nothing keeping you here but him. Without him you can’t breathe; you feel like you’re drowning- suffocating, always. You’ve always been afraid of anyone with romantic feelings towards you. You’re always afraid of people touching you or kissing you or anything that relates to intimacy- but you’ve never felt that with him. There have never been heart palpitations. There have never been anxiety ridden shakes and hot flashes. You’ve never felt faint around him. You crave his kisses- you want him to hold you. Without him you’re afraid of everyone and everything. You never leave the house. You never go see friends. You’re too scared to live your life- you’re too afraid to die. You barely exist.* ***But worst of all- without him, you’re left alone to have to deal with me. Without him, us voices come back to taunt you and we’ll never go away.***
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
I suffer with "Pathological Loneliness" or so they say, anyway
He is safe. He is happiness. He is everything. He takes away the anxiety. He takes away the hurt. He takes away the pain. He makes you love yourself. He makes you feel like you aren’t alone. He keeps away the nightmares. He holds you. He tells you all the things you need to hear. He pushes you to be a better person. *Without him you are afraid. Without him you are unbearably sad. Without him you are nothing. Without him you are anxious and bed ridden. Without him you are ridden with depression. Without him you are in constant psychological pain. Without him you hate yourself. Without him you are alone and always will be. Without him you have nightmares and sleep paralysis that never seem to end. Without him you are cold. Without him you are no longer pretty- you are no longer anyone’s favourite person; you are no longer loved. Without him you’re an awful person and no one wants to be around you.* He is security. He is life. He is air. He makes you do things you never thought you could. You aren’t afraid to be with him. He makes the voices go away. He makes the paranoid feelings less intense. You can touch him without feeling like you’re having a heart attack. You can kiss him without feeling like you’re going to faint. You can lay with him and not feel like something bad is going to happen. *Without him you are lost. Without him you want to die- there’s nothing keeping you here but him. Without him you can’t breathe; you feel like you’re drowning- suffocating, always. You’ve always been afraid of anyone with romantic feelings towards you. You’re always afraid of people touching you or kissing you or anything that relates to intimacy- but you’ve never felt that with him. There have never been heart palpitations. There have never been anxiety ridden shakes and hot flashes. You’ve never felt faint around him. You crave his kisses- you want him to hold you. Without him you’re afraid of everyone and everything. You never leave the house. You never go see friends. You’re too scared to live your life- you’re too afraid to die. You barely exist.* ***But worst of all- without him, you’re left alone to have to deal with me. Without him, us voices come back to taunt you and we’ll never go away.***
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19
there is really something horrible about being understood by someone. having another soul that just - "gets it" having another living being that relates. because it means that they have felt your hurt they've cried your tears, thought your thoughts they have lived the terrors in your head and endured the anguish that lives in your heart. that is why it is terrible to be understood. my heart breaks anew when someone tells me "i get it"
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Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
being understood
I don't know on a daily basis with whom you cohort. Unless you feel like telling me. But you're not so much the sharing sort. This poem, it's not about you. It isn't. Really. Not about us or our relationship either. No, no that'd just be silly. This poem is about privacy In general I guess. But how it relates to us of course –We need our space- (I know I want it) ...I'm just wishing you'd need yours less. --- Yes, you see, I know it seems selfish I get it I get it I just can't help it. So see things from my point of view It's much suckier for me to be without you. Double standards aren't nice when I'm on the wrong end But when it works out for me... Well I think you see the trend. So I don't know, enjoy your show, your favorite cable show. I'll just try to stop thinking (and let's not forget you were drinking) I can ignore it maybe if I just get my mind to slow. But no, the lingering, not-solved unease creeps in like an invading disease. You can make it go away. If I ask the right question? Just take your privacy away, please And let's be over this section.
0
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 6:31 PM UTC
Privacy
Its the feeling you get when your mind is a war zone, a warped home where grimmy thoughts roam, with no guidance or support zone, your so frightened to fight it on your own. More poems of suicide and self harm, you ever dreamt you died and felt calm? Just a truant mind with health crimes, help cant cure a ruined life in Hell's palms. You fell in to a ditch and because of it popping bottles of pills that you mixing your ***** with, then nodding off a bit picturing god and all of it, a doctors on the phone telling you to ***** it. Consistently monitored, the alcohol, the quiting , the six, seven seizures, its the moment a schizophrenic freezes, hearing a voice that whispers when it pleases, the vigilant bulimic, the obsessive and compulsive,the bipolar mood swing and stomach ulcers. Its the hidden issues that the medicine alters. Its the judgmental that the depression repulses ,the anxiety, the psychs with the notes, the post traumatic stress and the vices to cope. The prices of dope,the ice in the pipe that you smoke. The knife the rope, the temptation of slicing your throat. Its the stigma determined to scare you, when the bourbon your served is your urgent repairer. When not feeling nervous becomes rarer and your mom quits  her job to become your permanent carer. Its the psychotic episodes, the days that you lost seeking help, but being crazy isn't something I am ashamed to admit, so stay strong anybody who relates to this, please.
0
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
What is mental illness?
but that could be said of anywhere. However, some places seem to have hypnotic hips and easy eyes with a mischevious, seductive scarab grin. Like magic, it pulls me in. Here, labels like good or bad are trite, there is only this magnetic whirling energy culling myself and others inside simply because we picked up the phone and showed up. But now it's our responsibility to find balance amidst serene listless apathy on the beach and party hardy into the midnight arty energy scene jack & coke down the rabbit hole we go. Some Bedouins say Dahab means "time  goes," which has me convinced Moses and his folks weren't lost in terms of location but lost when it relates to time, trying to find a middle path between excess and sloth in this south Sinai town. Yes, not two but three schools of thought, forming a triangle in this hypnotizing spiral; two points of excess and one of balance! All three balance each other, and it's hell trying to stay in the center of this eye of this metaphorical storm of enlightenment. Naturally, gravitational forces pull some to the gray matter island headspace of echoed sins and carnivorous lascivious pandemonium. Not everyone will find what they seek on the warm beaches here, or the raving, bubble foam dance parties in strobe light nights. That's just the way it is; there's not enough room for everyone in the center. And this is where we learn to accept ones place, because only then can we move on to another plane, on another beach with more to learn and some to teach.
0
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
In Dahab, Excess is Easy,
but that could be said of anywhere. However, some places seem to have hypnotic hips and easy eyes with a mischevious, seductive scarab grin. Like magic, it pulls me in. Here, labels like good or bad are trite, there is only this magnetic whirling energy culling myself and others inside simply because we picked up the phone and showed up. But now it's our responsibility to find balance amidst serene listless apathy on the beach and party hardy into the midnight arty energy scene jack & coke down the rabbit hole we go. Some Bedouins say Dahab means "time  goes," which has me convinced Moses and his folks weren't lost in terms of location but lost when it relates to time, trying to find a middle path between excess and sloth in this south Sinai town. Yes, not two but three schools of thought, forming a triangle in this hypnotizing spiral; two points of excess and one of balance! All three balance each other, and it's hell trying to stay in the center of this eye of this metaphorical storm of enlightenment. Naturally, gravitational forces pull some to the gray matter island headspace of echoed sins and carnivorous lascivious pandemonium. Not everyone will find what they seek on the warm beaches here, or the raving, bubble foam dance parties in strobe light nights. That's just the way it is; there's not enough room for everyone in the center. And this is where we learn to accept ones place, because only then can we move on to another plane, on another beach with more to learn and some to teach.
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34
One man who stood among giants Short in status Mighty in endurance It was the spotlight in posing The man’s name was Ed Corney Mr. Corney was a Master Poser Amazement and determination throughout Dazzle in muscle as they entertained Ed Corney is a name that just remain It all relates to the sport of Bodybuilding Mr. Corney muscles were always ready and pumped He trained with precision Mr. Corney practiced posing with all the right moves Posing with transition in elegance being smooth Dramatics beyond any verbal script, but creativity being an art Mr. Corney can be seen in the documentary of Bodybuilding being “PUMPING IRON “ Bodybuilding was Ed Corney’s heart It was the fire burning within from the very start One would often see Ed Corney among Arnold Schwarzzenger, Franco Columbu and Serge Nubret and other Bodybuilding champions Mr. Corney trained lacking nothing, but everything to gain Competition to win being the purpose Yet Ed Corney was more than just Bodybuilding It didn’t matter he won numerous bodybuilding titles, but ne never loss sight of devoted fans It was Mr. Corney fans encouragement, and that is what caught Mr. Corney’s eyes on the prize of bodybuilding achievement Mr. Corney was a humanitarian in every sense of the word The weights in all gyms have dropped down on all floors The loss of a Bodybuilding Champion A long list of Bodybuilding competitions A muscled hero will be posing in Heaven Ed Corney’s final competition is won He is in God’s Kingdom God said, “I will give you rest and on Earth you did your best” You have achieved awards on Earth But Heaven will be your enriched birth Ed Corney words he might would say, “Thank you fans, but my work in Bodybuilding is finished, and remember me in being distinguished. Train wise and achieve your own expectations, but always have the art of Bodybuilding in appreciation. Remember the greats who made Bodybuilding what it is today, and tomorrow being your heritage. It has been honor to share with you being one of the Bodybuilding stars. My journey has taken me beyond the Bodybuilding skies and planets. This is not a finale, but until we meet again.
0
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
A PLATFORM STAGE REMEMBERS MY MEMORIAL FOR ED CORNEY
One man who stood among giants Short in status Mighty in endurance It was the spotlight in posing The man’s name was Ed Corney Mr. Corney was a Master Poser Amazement and determination throughout Dazzle in muscle as they entertained Ed Corney is a name that just remain It all relates to the sport of Bodybuilding Mr. Corney muscles were always ready and pumped He trained with precision Mr. Corney practiced posing with all the right moves Posing with transition in elegance being smooth Dramatics beyond any verbal script, but creativity being an art Mr. Corney can be seen in the documentary of Bodybuilding being “PUMPING IRON “ Bodybuilding was Ed Corney’s heart It was the fire burning within from the very start One would often see Ed Corney among Arnold Schwarzzenger, Franco Columbu and Serge Nubret and other Bodybuilding champions Mr. Corney trained lacking nothing, but everything to gain Competition to win being the purpose Yet Ed Corney was more than just Bodybuilding It didn’t matter he won numerous bodybuilding titles, but ne never loss sight of devoted fans It was Mr. Corney fans encouragement, and that is what caught Mr. Corney’s eyes on the prize of bodybuilding achievement Mr. Corney was a humanitarian in every sense of the word The weights in all gyms have dropped down on all floors The loss of a Bodybuilding Champion A long list of Bodybuilding competitions A muscled hero will be posing in Heaven Ed Corney’s final competition is won He is in God’s Kingdom God said, “I will give you rest and on Earth you did your best” You have achieved awards on Earth But Heaven will be your enriched birth Ed Corney words he might would say, “Thank you fans, but my work in Bodybuilding is finished, and remember me in being distinguished. Train wise and achieve your own expectations, but always have the art of Bodybuilding in appreciation. Remember the greats who made Bodybuilding what it is today, and tomorrow being your heritage. It has been honor to share with you being one of the Bodybuilding stars. My journey has taken me beyond the Bodybuilding skies and planets. This is not a finale, but until we meet again.
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