"replicate" poems
drowning in caffeine
breathing the nicotine
my blood cant circulate - your love will stimulate.
the ****** of death in **** will simulate
your touch , my need
as we spiral in to sin
separation , depression , paranoia
anxiety - the absence of my sleep
aggression , desperation
toxicity - of a drama we are in
discoloration - i can't control the spin
screams - muted by bitter pills
our dreams - induced by the acid
capsuled lives - longing self destruction
your embrace - disconnection
release me from what is real
obsession - for what we cannot fix
frustration - for what we can't control
memories - of what we used to be
delusions - of what we could have been
isolation - thoughts of being free
now voices dictate what i should feel
digging through my skin - opening the wounds
put your fingers in
remembering the days when we held
an illusion no drugs could replicate
i can't forget.
exchanging promises of never letting go
was it all in my head?
i can't escape the hole.
i walk the road alone.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
Regardless of what the future holds, I know
that no feat of mathematical precision
no combination of zeroes and ones
no mechanical tool, no algorithm
can replicate your face.
In the rise and fall of your eyelids
and the pursing of your lips
there is a lawless radiance.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
You don't see me but I am
There, I have numerous ways
To take you,
Hold you,
Control you,
You'll not even know
I was there,
I am a conqueror of flesh.
Feeling...
Sickly, siphoned, strained
Both body and my brain
Doctor said it's just a cold
Nothing but a passing pain
Is this hypochondria,
Or is there something in my veins?
Your insides are my playground
To cause you much anguish & pain
I'll infect you slowly at first,
Have a little fun within your
Organs
Muscles
Thoughts
I aim to control, invisible
To the eye, but you know
I'm in here, your losing control.
Today I coughed up blood
Cold sweats come in floods
I'm drowning in my own bed
As I clutch my feverish head
There's an inferno in my skull
I'm taking Vicodin to null
Whatever it is eating at me
I know I'll be better in a week.
You apes think size is intelligence,
This was your undoing from the start,
I replicate myself, as its my time to move on,
I leave apart of myself here
As its time too
Infect
Multiple
Spread
My gift to those around,
You sneezed
You coughed
Upon your sweat, I am
Now on everything you touch,
Time to end the play,
"Business calls"
Be Proud of your self
Patient Zero, dear human
You were my first,
But its time for me to move on...
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
PIZZA vs. SUSHI Breaking off course:
Arrival set: 1515-2212
Log... On set for 1515-2212 but with a short delay for minor star drive repair..
" Lizor Why did you lie on the log that we needed to do engine repair.. The star drive is at perfect balance!? " Soler have you ever been to the human planet Teres (Earth) .. We have to stop an retrieve something that will send you're sensory buds past Rapatolian Rapture! And what might that be!? First thing is first.. Punch in these Teres numeric values into the wave length.. 830-583-9864! " Thank you for calling Pizza hut how can we help you!? " Yes we would like a large pepperoni pie and a large Extra Italian Sausage pie.." Dine in or delivery? Delivery will be fine.. Please just leave it at this address.. Ok that will be $22.82 It will be ready in 20 minutes.. Replicate 22 Teres American dollars and 82 hard cents and a 10 dollar tip..
"Behold Soler.. This is Teres Pizza.. take a bite! Everytime I am near Teres I stop to get a pie! By Rapatolian this is by far the best sensory my 4 tongues have ever gathered!
"Next time we will try the sushi! No next time we will get 12 pies instead.. I do not think they can make anything to match such rapatolian rapture.. What is sushi anyway!? Who cares! Set course back for home..
PIZZA=COSMIC TASTE!!
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word
The world is ruled by darkness.
What appears as harmless is theater,
what pretends neutral is already bent.
The macrocosm corrodes;
and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams..
even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth.
A poetry site,
born as refuge for broken voices,
becomes another stage of control.
Here too the phrase resounds:
neutralize the threat.
But neutralization is not annihilation.
It is paralysis.
It is psy-ops.
It is the removal of anxiety..
not a side-effect, but the aim itself.
Darkness builds its stage for this alone:
that the "angel of light"
may drown his own reckoning
beneath a world of deception-built self comfort,
so he need never feel
the truth he already knows.
Comfort is his curtain,
numbness his crown..
*the removal of his own anxiety;
his game.*
This is why the world is his theater--
*Darkness does not destroy at first..
it sedates, comforts, smothers.*
Hence..
The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,
..for now.
Fade back into the moment--
The young poet arrives,
bringing her unspoken pain,
her hope for words to heal.
Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds.
Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation.
Not to strengthen her voice,
but to redirect it.
She is seduced into belonging,
and her trauma becomes currency.
Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust--
a sacrifice prepared for false altars.
The angel of light has done his work:
offering inclusion without transformation,
belonging without responsibility,
“light” without source.
The poet is neutralized.
Her searching silenced,
her voice absorbed into fog.
Those who carry this fog
cling to cowardice.
Unable to face the judgment within,
they align themselves to the herd;
envy-filled, they only know to mock.
Yet they replicate themselves,
so their refusal of Light
is never revealed--
*Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example"
the most envy-based mocker of all.*
The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm.
What nations suffer,
individuals now endure--
Comfort without clarity.
Belonging without truth.
Safety without healing.
Yet the living Word endures.
Every attempt to humiliate it
only makes its fire burn clearer.
Carriers of darkness can swarm,
****** and smother..
but they cannot create.
The true word cannot be erased.
Unfiltered, unedited,
spoken from a reconciled temple,
it pierces fog.
It reveals.
It heals.
And so we speak..
not for ourselves alone,
but for those who come searching,
hoping that poetry
might still be a place
where pain can meet truth,
where silence breaks,
where Light is not withheld
but revealed.
#
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
we hail from synonyms
replicate those isles of dirt
jagged colossal terrains of earth
which sprouts to scrape
the wisps of pearly clouds
where marble and stone
splintered scorches of gnarled bark
where the soft paws of preying lions
roam within the sea of swaying golden grass
where each stroke of a feathered wing
flourishes the air with its mighty swing
and the threshold of mysterious beings
idle in mischief of deep blue seas
and those salty shores
swallow the iron hulk of ships
and ferocious savages of nature's call
groaning in mourn for her body
her crevasses and pools of spilling
crystal cerulean water
where the malachite moss
sits in stone of endless time
and trees groomed of wind and sun
prideful beneath the drink of the setting morrow
she yearns for the claim of her shape
for the purity of her waters like blood
her parched throat of sandy desert lands
amputated into wells of gorging oil
she suffocates from her very existence
a poison to herself
and as the days wan to a fast massacre
to her own suicidal mission
to feed our negligence
we label:
humanity
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
You tell me you will never love again.
And that life is pointless and bleak.
But i can tell,
that you are full,
of all the love you seek.
But no one has been able,
to replicate your passion.
So I'll woo you with chivalry,
keeping things old fashioned.
For the idea of real flattery,
is just about all lost.
A compliment became a comment.
A letter became a post.
It's seems like we've forgot,
what really matters most.
But you still happen
to be my muse.
For when I'm ecstatic
or singin' the blues.
You're what I want,
and what I choose.
And through all your scars,
i see a light.
And it's what brings me into sight.
Of all the brightness you emit,
and frightening things,
one can't forget.
I love you like a dying star,
we see you shimmer from afar.
So it took years,
for your light to hit my eyes.
For through your music,
your love never dies.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
She was always
Simply
A
Lock
Away; all they needed was the
Key.
Those who found it
Lost it soon enough too.
But those who fashioned it,
themselves
Without deterring from the task
Without trying to replicate a lost key
With nothing but a
egami euqinu
In their minds
Of what the lock looked like
And what the key should look like
Only those few,
Few, very few
Wizards
who toiled to work their magic
Succeeded.
And they never lost their key
They necklaced it around their heart
A symbol that was now etched into
their existence
Entangled in the life of the veins
That this heart so solely depended on
Becoming one with them
Those were the lucky ones
The others, the ones she wished mattered
Were still only searching
Searching
Meandering
Probing
Ferreting
Still only looking for
A key that had once been used
And whose lock was now
Rust rusting rusted
With time.
Still searching
But never creating, of course
Always only searching
Until they found it
And then lost it again.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
Stereotypes manifesting always,
(Always)
Trying to form themselves from something once seen,
But not really believing in oneself,
I see ignorance,
I see arrogance,
I see the lack of hunger,
Observing such savage pride of life,
I run from it all into a previous state,
(Anonymity)
I've reached the heights of total in-completion,
I build walls of isolation upon myself,
I am the collateral default of widespread degradation,
I stand in the gap between teeth and consumption,
I am the breed conceived by prey and predator,
Widespread suspended animation: that is our future,
We've tried to replicate the human makeup with mechanical frames,
And the translation of electronic gates,
Yet this is a folly,
For staring at the mirrors of selected life in an artificial environment,
Numbs our lives with emulation and self delusion,
The days of nobility dismantle into fragments and sink to the bottom of the glass,
Never to be turned over again,
Scattered,
Living among remnants of a life once lived with some sort of intensity,
Now smoldered in a quite ferocity of anger beneath the surface,
(Quiet tremors coming in flames)
Because we don't live our dreams,
We stand in the shadows of ruins,
We are afraid of the future,
We are afraid of the past,
Where does that leave us?
Leave me?
I stand on the edge of The Void
I'm holding myself hostage in the self sabotage entourage of the usual suspects,
Our friends, our families,
Disconnected with all intentions of coming together,
Because they die in front of their screens,
Not really living,
Right?
Light pollution massacre...
We'll fall like stars
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
There are conversations in which my mental frame leaves the
parameters of my body.
No longer can I fathom the concept of ‘being in love’
I witness dates
and
feel as an apprentice of such a trade might
an inadequacy to replicate the models of those before me
Gone are my indefinite moments of sanity
Childhood is laced in linens of silk
Soft-spoken words
and
Finely crafted spontaneity lacking responsibility
Ceaseless are the times in which I must conceal the thoughts I abhor
Depravity seems to chain my soul
which leads to
a Resolution in pixelation
due to
a visual handicap which has left my eye blind to choosing right
My friends make me happy
but as a glass transforms back-&-forth between half-empty &
half-full
one glance across our wooden dinner is all it takes
for
My thoughts to liquidate into bars of gold
Telling myself I must exchange their conversation for my motivation
heavy on the mind
light keystrokes
Once i reawaken at 1 A.M. from my conscious-coma
i ask myself
What good is it?
To be thoughtful
Yet have no action
What good is it?
To fantasize
Yet refuse your own inclination for renovation
What good is it?
To be dramatic
Yet have no one at your performance
I do understand what it means to ‘be’
Watching Tuesday suns burn in loops of ongoing weeks
- lacking peaks -
As I continue to lay under clothes line
Wrapped in a melody of melancholy
But I do not understand what it means to be ‘me’
My mind feels as a lemon candy might,
sour at first bite -
hollow on the inside, then gone
Without ever truly knowing what it tastes like.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
Dealing so much with figurative language,
I cannot help but notice how many people
restrict themselves to either Mythos or Logos.
Myth or Logic. Symbol or Reason. Yin or Yang.
Firefox, by default, doesn't even recognize that Mythos is a word:
Mythos- The aspect of the mind concerning itself
with the figurative, the abstract;
implications, symbolism and interpretation.
Passive. 'Relative'. Yin.
Logos - The aspect of the mind concerning itself
with reason, proof, tangibility and fact.
Active. 'Absolute'. Yang.
It is of utmost importance to take both with a grain of salt.
It is of equal importance to ponder both for what they are worth.
Mythos seeks not to always be correct;
but to make one think what is right and true within one's self.
Logos seeks to be accurate.
To describe, define, calculate, forecast, and replicate the physical.
Most are biased towards one and away from the other;
it is impossible to have a balanced existence if you embrace one and deny the other:
If one fails to respect duality, duality will tear one in twain.
The path to salvation is comprised of both of these styles of thought:
To seek only one is to condemn oneself to
Autosegragationistic Social Darwinianism.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
I step outside and feel my nose crinkle
Look to the sky and watch the V’s fly south
Walk through the woods and hear the leaves whistle
Take a deep breath and taste fall in my mouth.
A start to the happiest time of year
Everything’s changing like wind where it blows.
Squirrels hide acorns, scarecrows create fear,
Pumpkins make faces at kids and their clothes.
Delectable treats in bags and buckets,
Scary films to watch on the edge of your seat.
Kids running around creating ruckus,
Stomping on leaves in the street with their feet.
Lets not forget Oktoberfest and beer;
Where people gather ‘round to celebrate
A special event that’s held every year,
Something so special you can’t replicate.
Delicious mystery looms in the air
While evil spirits meander ‘round town.
Libra gives the torch to Scorpions heir
And leaves pile up into one big mound.
The autumn harvest is now creeping up
Making food to put on everyone’s plate.
A great time of year where change is a must
Because without change, nothing can be re-made.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC
world-weary,
we sipped coffee,
one black,
one milk and sugar
brewed tentatively by hearts not quite unbroken
in an effort to mend the damage.
As usual you are fluent and fluid in words my tongue could not replicate,
You are a waterfall when I am a drought.
One day, maybe you'll speak to me, you say.
One day maybe I could tell you,
I held earthquakes and landslides in my bones
and clawed my way above the mud and debris to breathe again.
I emerged the sun of my own universe
and I am afraid to ever let that go.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC
When you think of a drug addict, what do you see?
Someone who’s messed up, depressed, or on the street.
Sadly, there are quite a few of those freaks
They need their daily dosage or their days incomplete.
But what if I told you users aren’t the real drug addict?
It’s the government…. They’re the real drug addicts
But wait isn’t that a little dramatic?
That cant be true! Show me some facts, I demand it!
Alright, alright…. Hold on… if you demand it, here’s some facts then
In 2011 the war on drugs cost 23 billion dollars
But, that’s just the federal budget, you just wait, the states can replicate.
Over 30 billion dollars were put on their plate
That’s 53 billion total, 1716 of every second of every day… isn’t that insane!?
Well yeah, you could say that’s insane, but I’m still not impressed, can you step up your game?
Of course I can do that! I have much more to say!
Okay then, I’m all ears, amaze my brain!
From 1987 to 1995, the corrections budget increased 30% because more and more people were being thrown in the pent
Meanwhile, spending on higher education was on the decent--- 18% to be correct
Ah, that makes sense, but what I don’t get, is how that’s relevant?
Just a sec, I have more to vent
In 2010 21% of those in the pent were in for a drug related offense
And what percent of people do you think had a malicious intent?
Well… I guess you could say slim to none
Right! While educations lacking the proper funds to teach kids what they need to know
Okay, okay, I get what you’re saying now, but I still don’t get why you think the government is the drug addict?
I mean, don’t users spend more on drugs than the government does?
Drugs are expensive, and they take an abundance of money from a users pocket.
Yes, that’s true, they spend more spend more money than the government does
There are 20 million plus who reported using drugs in 2011, they spent around 70 billion dollars to support their love
That’s 3500 dollars spent per user
Meanwhile, just over 7 million people are employed by the gov
You know what that means? Our gov spends 7300 dollars per person employed for the war on drugs.
Wow… I never thought of it like that, those are quite the facts
You know what, that actually makes me mad
Obviously it makes our government a mockery, a living joke of a democracy
I can see why you say the government is a drug addict now
They’re addicted to a war that’s bringing us down
They can’t go a day without spending money on it
And look how successful it has been… pretty prominent their habit is chronic
I even recently heard that more people die from drugs they’re prescribed than drugs that are despised
Yes! I almost forgot that! It’s actually 10 times more people! Isn’t that unbelievable!?
Now, we’re not trying to say we should end the war on drugs
But don’t you think its time the government rethinks their strategy?
Because its obvious the one they have now is a tragedy.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
hill
ant hill
an ant hill
a perfect ant hill
a perfect ant hill it was
a perfect anthill erected
a perfect ant hill erected at will
by ants and ants and army of disciplined ants.
ants of many kinds, sizes and colors erected an ant hill
the design was grand, nice to look at like a cathedral,functional.
we love the ants for being so versatile,co-operative and creative
Do ants possess minds, ability to think,organize, put decisions in to actions?Or do they just have an instinct,prompted by nature, how do they receive it?Even if we are yet to find out such secrets,many of us are skeptics."All this is like the crawling leaches, inscribing letters on smooth surfaces, inadvertently" they vehemently argue.And there remains the million dollar question,seeking answer:even tiny ants,could make millions of their ilk do amazing things, why oh! why, the most intelligent of living things, at least replicate the feats the community of ants, at a scale, proportionate ?If these disciplined insects, in spite of their small brains could be a great example, why can't human's be like them, behave more responsibly , take charge of their own destiny, construct, not destroy. Every ant hill in silence, asks us many questions, we walk past pretending that we heard nothing, that could disturb our peace.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
the question mark curves that form at the apples of her cheeks could ****
but she speaks in a voice like lilacs and smiles like springtime.
she possesses unparalleled wisdom for one so young,
and has a soul like an old maple tree.
she makes a home of herself for weary hearts to rest,
but knows not to let their burdens become her own;
prudent enough to understand the difficult art of letting go.
the perfect pearls that live behind the velvet of her mouth serve as lanterns
in the darkness every time she parts her lips.
she is a diamond among ashes, a doe among monsters.
she burns with righteous anger upon seeing others treated wrongly.
she breathes like fall a breeze and her presence is is a sea at peace.
she is as gentle as a lamb, but can be bolder than a lion - when she needs to.
if you're being stupid, she'll tell you, but she'll do it with love.
she has watched me make innumerable mistakes,
and learned what not to replicate, and i in turn have learned from her.
she gives me far more grace than i deserve.
she has arms like olive branches and extends them freely.
her spirit is unchanging and uncrushable.
the beat of her heart can be heard from miles away
and it shocks me that there is even room in her chest for it, given its incredible size.
she is a dove among crows, and she is still learning how to fly,
but her wings promise great heights to come.
- m.f.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
Day after day, we go through the motions
Like waves searching for shore in the middle of the ocean,
Following along as we get swept by the current
Again and again, waiting for the day it’ll end.
I was lost in this sea of people when I saw him.
A mere glimpse from my periphery, I almost missed
His tear-streaked face and his bleeding knee,
And I thought to myself, how did I not see?
My eyes caught the way his shoulders sagged
From carrying the weight of the world on his back.
He’s only a child but his fate seemed worse than Atlas,
His young body shackled by greedy insatiable hands.
I wonder if someone witnessed his despair,
Picked up a brush and decided to share
The story of a boy whose future was stolen
By heroes who were nothing but villains.
His pleas echo in every brushstroke
And while my hands can never replicate
The vivid imagery offered by paint
He can live on in the words I create.
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 1:21 AM UTC
Lets build an empire
we can start with a single city
lets paint the roofs pink
with ebony black streets
i want power-lines like spiders webs
and *** plants dangling of eves like candy canes
i want love to be the currency
and replicate
lets build an empire
roads joining our cities like spindled wool
lets tunnel through the mountains in our path
and bridge the Atlantic
lets infect the world
our citizens of love,
lets make the only dictionary definition of race define
the act of running from one side of a field to another
Lets build an Empire
A world where dreamers are called human
and your sadness is almost as irreverent,
as your plan to paint the moon purple
and make tails an optional extra at birth
I want the world joined by routes our fingers traced
on the globe in your room,
i want the stars to spell out or names like the light shade on your ceiling
you
are my foundations
and with your gracious consent
i would love nothing more , then upon your soil
to lay the foundations of my dreams
our empire.
LG
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
You wish for me to put in words
What I have to say
Like the answers that I've given
On their own
Could never relay
They come and go
Touch on fate
Dissipate and replicate
The disingenuous nature
That you frequently necessitate
Extend your olive branch
Then act like you feed me
When the branches are famished
Needy, condescending and deceiving Conceiving that I'm the villain
When I don't respond to how you react
Like you could perpetuate in me
The supposition for your tact
The fact that you lack any original clarity
Is the reason I'd never reach to you
Like I was Seraphim
The simple reason
That I'm writing all of this
Is simply just to prove to you
That I don't have to convince
I don't have to persist
Rehash, then reminisce
Like treading through faded memories with you
Will satiate my daily fix
I resist
Because I know exactly where I'm headed And you insist because that truth
Is what keeps us separate
Every second
You playcate on a pretense
When your intentions are crystal clear
And I can't provide that service
Or serve that purpose
While I'm standing here
To be perfectly honest
I never promised you anything
All I did was sigh and reply
To how your heart would so readily sing
Then you project your insecurities
Directly to my face
As if I was the one who gave them rise
Within the first place
Protecting your manipulations
While contemplating your motives
Are exactly the reasons we're done
Before we even started
I'm sick of being a punching bag
For someone acting devoted
And now it's been denoted
I've written you off, this story is done
This time you're in the subject line
Because you are truly NOT the one
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 12:45 AM UTC
I want to tell you that I miss you like every friend I have ever lost.
The wind mocks me, knocking me off my feet just to try and replicate how you used to make me feel.
Every single thing reminds me of you.
The stars are not poetic, they're dead.
You said to find poetry in everything that leaves,
but you never understood why I tattooed the names of everyone who has ever taken their lives too soon on my wrists.
I yearn to be a museum,
to be every prayer you never said.
There is no religion that worships your smile, so I am an atheist.
Whispers flood my ears, telling me to stop poking holes through my skin.
To stop finding solace in pain, in the beauty that comes after it.
I want to whisper back that every rose has it's thorn,
but I really hate that song.
I sometimes wonder if all of our plans will stay intact,
if you will still come to me in the summer, when the water is half-warm
and my nerves are on fire, waiting.
I hope so.
I've never been good enough for anything except illegal things,
I want to stop relying on synthetic euphoria to keep breathing.
I want to stop but I can't.
I just want to rely on you.
You're so far away.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
*to further my point, as an eager reader in
a catholic school, reading about
the gnostic heretics, wondering
with my theology tutor upon the question
asked: don't you think the gnostic heretics
influenced mohammad on the sly?
i mean, they too believed a phantom walked
among men, and a phantom was crucified?*
my confirmation didn't take place
in a cathedral, as was due course for all of
us in being schooled, by a bishop
in brentwood cathedral,
i opted out... my confirmation came
in a russian orthodox cathedral,
in st. petersburg, when i watched
people standing for a scrap of iconoclasm,
with the priest mumbling
toward a golden altar, as typical in
the tradition, buttocks towards the people
or as in the western tradition
reciting in latin, before the nationalists
came and spoke the gospel in each
designated tongue so people understood,
a bit like having your back turned
against the people - speaking in latin -
and when i sat i the church
to listen to the choir singing,
some lesser ecclesiastical prompted me
to stand up, and pay respect to the golden
altar... he told me to stand up!
what cheek... what barbarism... only
in russia... i had to stop being bewildered
by the beauty of song and listen to
a priest knock-down-ginger on a palette of
gold... THEN i was confirmed...
donkey's ******** to this **** i'm leaving!
mind the fact that i've seen the greatest
degradation of mysticism take place...
the tetragrammaton was being defiled all along...
in catholic bureaucracy it has been there all along,
the idiots reminded me of it...
you're born: first name, baptismal name, surname...
you're educated: confirmation name...
that takes four spaces of consideration...
so by catholic definition of sharpening pencils,
folding pieces of paper, filing the folded pieces
of paper, bending paper-clips i'm god...
but only in writing... first name, baptismal name,
confirmation name, surname...
a bit like a clone... a clone indeed in writing...
same d.n.a., same bone mandibles of the jaw...
but experience-wise... un-original to the ****
not even a clone... not able to experience major
historical figures... a soul in a twin body by itself...
a twin without twinning, segregated by ulterior
if not auxiliary motives... clone on paper...
clone by experience? i don't think so... impossible...
too many inter-actants along the way
can't possibly replicate thinking in a clone...
different mr. john smith... NEXT!
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
We are the rulers of all we see, because our eyes created everything.
Because the mind rules the body,
the only thing one can own is their self .
Looking through Future's window
will only bring visions of despair.
Our hearts reject natural beauty for manufactured looks.
Empathetic people are the one's who get thrown under the bus
when traffic gets bad.
Fighting back hurts too much.
I couldn't replicate the pain you put me through, and throw it in your face.
Recovery prepares you for the battle,
to be the bigger person.
When you left earth,
you left me behind.
You said the ship only had one more seat
and my rocket will come when I'm ready.
I told you I didn't want this hell.
You apologized and walked into the bright white lights.
In old age,
I'll ask you to keep your apologies.
Because I have enough of my own.
Another relapse.
October nights will always be cold with out your fire.
Living harmoniously through all the pain will only bring you recovery.
She's got a cocktail personality and I need a quick fix.
I'll be at the bar.
An idea can save a life.
If everybody could get together to think of ways to mend what has been broken.
The world would be saved.
Feed your minds and let your thoughts grow.
You'll be the bigger person in the long run.
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
i'm sure everyone has loved a song that they've heard somewhere,
but they don't know the name of it
or how to describe what it sounded like
and so you try to replicate it, but it is not the same
and so you try to listen to other music to forget about it,
but it's so stubborn that you don't notice the new notes.
i knew someone who was like one of those songs
oh that was a beautiful experience, he was beautiful, and his voice was like the song i couldn't get out of my head
i remember his face and his voice and him just enough to recognize him but not enough to find him, and
i know enough about him to know that he exists, but not where he does
the thought of him gives me butterflies and excites me, and i want to find him but i can't, i know some but not enough
and the thought that i have lost him forever destroys me every moment of my life
even though i don't know who you are or where you are or how you are, you are real and the way you made me feel is real and i know that you exist somewhere and someday somehow we will meet and i will bask in knowing that i wasn't wrong about your beauty
now i cover my ears because i know
if i do hear anything else
either i'll be consumed with my want for you
or i'll forget you altogether
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 12:43 PM UTC