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"replicates" poems
Somedays my thoughts shriek so loud that they congest the rest of my mind other days they chant lullaby's as if nothing traumatic has ever happened one moment i'm up the next im crumbling to my knees one or the other its consistent drowning with no one to rescue me I'm keen on telling myself its all in my head at times, but doctors tell me its all me but for gods sake do they realize what horrid phrases the voices scream? death would be so heavenly I long for the passing of sides im awaiting to go home where its all white and peaceful i have days where im so narcissistic; I swear I can commence the world as if every millisecond is a luxury of sighs and sounds at moments my dispute comes out so rapid all i get is crooked looks and mumbles some days, I love him other times I swear he's the devil in disguise during my manic episodes you spoke soft as if I was a fallen angle that was overflowing with life. You had mentioned a world that disculded me was a world you cannot exist in You said I influenced your heart to skip beats, that I saved you, I was your fresh air Once he witnessed myself during a dreadful episode you declared loving me was exhausting and space is what you desired for hell could i control this? he was the one isolated concept I could ever make my ******* mind up about I loved him; I love him he said that his devotion to me was similar to staring into a black hole but seeing the reflection of the delicate sunset it never made sense to him BUT HELL DID IT MAKE SENSE TO ME? when he stranded me, i couldn't help but dissolve in tears i was nowhere adjacent to happy but that's all I've ever comprehended my doctor says they've observed a change maybe its the sleepless weeks and collection of mood stabilizers consuming pills in hopes to not feel so ******* empty anticipating on my next manic episode waiting for the door to open to go home If I have learned anything from living with BPD it is im constantly dilapidated upon everything one day soon I hope to recover from this disorder that replicates a loud room without recognizing how loud it was and all I hear is the ringing in my ears that doesn't seem to have an end some day this will be over some day my lover will stay I pray to fall in love with another angel again
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
Living with BPD( Bipolar Disorder)
Somedays my thoughts shriek so loud that they congest the rest of my mind other days they chant lullaby's as if nothing traumatic has ever happened one moment i'm up the next im crumbling to my knees one or the other its consistent drowning with no one to rescue me I'm keen on telling myself its all in my head at times, but doctors tell me its all me but for gods sake do they realize what horrid phrases the voices scream? death would be so heavenly I long for the passing of sides im awaiting to go home where its all white and peaceful i have days where im so narcissistic; I swear I can commence the world as if every millisecond is a luxury of sighs and sounds at moments my dispute comes out so rapid all i get is crooked looks and mumbles some days, I love him other times I swear he's the devil in disguise during my manic episodes you spoke soft as if I was a fallen angle that was overflowing with life. You had mentioned a world that disculded me was a world you cannot exist in You said I influenced your heart to skip beats, that I saved you, I was your fresh air Once he witnessed myself during a dreadful episode you declared loving me was exhausting and space is what you desired for hell could i control this? he was the one isolated concept I could ever make my ******* mind up about I loved him; I love him he said that his devotion to me was similar to staring into a black hole but seeing the reflection of the delicate sunset it never made sense to him BUT HELL DID IT MAKE SENSE TO ME? when he stranded me, i couldn't help but dissolve in tears i was nowhere adjacent to happy but that's all I've ever comprehended my doctor says they've observed a change maybe its the sleepless weeks and collection of mood stabilizers consuming pills in hopes to not feel so ******* empty anticipating on my next manic episode waiting for the door to open to go home If I have learned anything from living with BPD it is im constantly dilapidated upon everything one day soon I hope to recover from this disorder that replicates a loud room without recognizing how loud it was and all I hear is the ringing in my ears that doesn't seem to have an end some day this will be over some day my lover will stay I pray to fall in love with another angel again
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58
Far on a lunatic sea, filled with tranquility and serenity, love and devotion, some flowers have made it their goal to bloom in purity, Innocent looking, sweet and with a scent from amongst the heavens, Tricking their foolish, mindless pray to come closer to them while seeping in spite and hatred, longing for revenge for their reflection, A soft breeze accompanies the starlit sky, transient moonlight lurks through in a ghastly, bluish horizon as it rises to claim the heavens for his own once he had reached its fullest phase, ahh those phantoms, Gone mad through a night full of punishment and bloodshed, Before the petals can scatter in a dawning sky they seek for an intent, Finally an attempt would be able to be made, a pity human draws near, weeping in sorrow and grief, causing them to shake excitedly As then their roots would rush out of the ground and imprison him, Twisted illusion of diversion, as they pierce through skin and bones, dragging his struggling, flailing body underground,remaining unseen Feeding on his blood, using his corpse as a fertiliser they stay pure, Moved for one instant, they dive deeper into the soil of this landscape Hatred twines around them, causing disturbance in their memories, It is alike to be left in an accelerating world of recurrance, everlasting, Until the sunrise has dyed the sky in red and everything replicates ~ Umi
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Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
Lilies of Murderous Intent
Her sweet scent sticks in my nostrils from when we were last met, remembrance of her lips on mine inspire song divine. Though I gaze upon her face in photographs, angelic beauty replicates not. Shivers she sends me over the phone. Oh, I marvel that we may speak from such distance, yet I crave her warm embrace, her breath in my ear, whispering gently, it’s ok, and forever will be. I long to run my fingers through her silky black hair, caressingly ********** her mind and its motives, the clockwork behind those deep brown eyes, two chocolatey oceans of no return. To feel her lie against me brings a state: pure ecstasy, no chemical exists that can make one feel as they do when abreast with a lover. Desire fills me to be with her but for now I must settle to view my tulip from afar.
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Dec 25, 2009
Dec 25, 2009 at 9:30 PM UTC
Tulip from Afar
Do you like science? Cause I've got my ion you we're a dance of subatomic particles, you get my cardiovascular system worked up "Nerd," you declare with a smile sweeter than C6H12O6 I glare at you and giggle louder than 194 decibels, we break all the laws I'm so attracted to you, scientists will have to make a 5th fundamental force we fit together like sticky ends of DNA I fall in love with you every time I see you, faster than my DNA replicates being in your arms feels like homeostasis, we'll last longer than thorium I think I'm kinda maybe trying to say every time light reflects off of you and onto my retina the sudden protracted cardiac arrhythmia I get tells me that gulp Iloveyou
0
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
We have a little bit of Chemistry, let's try Biology
We are all apart of one system yet there are many components to this system innumerable actually all following the same laws as if contractually bound by one set of rules but with infinite variation like nations of expression separated by vibration only contained by the systems within that perceive and react to the system they sustain one giant metaphor a sufficient example is the human body a complex interaction of individual organisms all communicating, interacting and participating in sustaining the body an organism of organisms Even our organs have organs, working together to sustain a system larger than itself cells communicating, producing regulating, exchanging are themselves composed of organisms, performing all these functions we must not forget the system which we sustain the order we provide for the larger body and mind together we compose the cells of this planet interacting and communicating with each other and all other life a subtle dance that carries impressive consequences except the way in which we act as organisms is likened to cancer in which a once productive cell behaves individually not in accordance with the system it sustains replicating uncontrollably wasting unnecessarily not taking the whole into consideration although if the planetary cancer of humanity replicates itself to extinction all will still be well as it always has been and always will be yet the system in which we exist would lose the chance to witness and experience the transformation from cancer to great negative immunity through the powers of the newly recognized human organism a system sustained
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
A System Sustained
We are all apart of one system yet there are many components to this system innumerable actually all following the same laws as if contractually bound by one set of rules but with infinite variation like nations of expression separated by vibration only contained by the systems within that perceive and react to the system they sustain one giant metaphor a sufficient example is the human body a complex interaction of individual organisms all communicating, interacting and participating in sustaining the body an organism of organisms Even our organs have organs, working together to sustain a system larger than itself cells communicating, producing regulating, exchanging are themselves composed of organisms, performing all these functions we must not forget the system which we sustain the order we provide for the larger body and mind together we compose the cells of this planet interacting and communicating with each other and all other life a subtle dance that carries impressive consequences except the way in which we act as organisms is likened to cancer in which a once productive cell behaves individually not in accordance with the system it sustains replicating uncontrollably wasting unnecessarily not taking the whole into consideration although if the planetary cancer of humanity replicates itself to extinction all will still be well as it always has been and always will be yet the system in which we exist would lose the chance to witness and experience the transformation from cancer to great negative immunity through the powers of the newly recognized human organism a system sustained
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75
"Because cowboys and snakes are my kin" Because I feel volcanoes in my skin Because I've sinned Because I want to get in Because I've already grown... Nature replicates in sets of eight Deviating ends of the weak and the great Chemical stew makes memory fail Chemical brew makes brain inhale Do the push, take the plunge Absorb the agony like a sponge Can't map the contradictions (Is there truth in fiction?) Give up the blood and give up the ghost Reaching out to them that hate you most Couldn't even reach level two Divy up the army between red and blue Pieces slowly fitting But puzzle never solved Reaching out to nothing Only one resolve Listened to a hero's song 'Bout a thousand times But wisdom never sank in Too much focus on the rhyme (Prayed for the night, for the very first time But night never came And the rain falls on everyone but me Cause nature's got a few tricks up her sleeve) Imperfect circles, always imperfect circles (Autumn angel gets their wings)
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Untitled SS
I am victim only to constant distractions, restrictions, prescriptions, vicarious factors, as various factions of elitism prescribe defeat to the common man; the hard working talented beaten upon by the self driven commerce land. Businessmen, crooks, warlords and bankers; victory purports itself the higher moral ground. ******* the world, lie on the crimson sand. The brevity of riches in led laden ditches, trenches v armistice; one man’s control over cadets and lieutenants. Equality it seems is general ignorance, propose roll reversal and receive corporal punishment. Capital interests will be met with bursaries, bail out the banks and return to your knees, put out your hands and beg for your feed. If the top three percent own more wealth than the lower half put together while politicians claim to be fair-weather, conclude that sincerities amiss, that your representatives are on the pay roll of profit driven lobbyists. Career crazed fat-cats couldn’t care less if you're in tattered garments or there’s a hole in your dress, their polished boots carry them from vault to vault while we fill another with oil-baron asphalt. As social repression pushes populations science progresses, enabling armed forces to kettle us, cut us off and circle on horses. Power-shifts across the globe become jaded by investment with private militias and fascist supremacists seizing resources from war torn villages to fund their crude sourced morality, migrants and refugee families are vilified by ignorance forged in cynicism caused by the inequality of education. Here lie the symptoms of infinite regression, hold mirror to gene-pool as it replicates the same flawed equation, as populations expire and conspire so does the problem. Bombing a country without repercussions, is as likely as a breaking the waters surface without sending ripples to the adjacent atoms. These are the dark ages of social stagnation.
0
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Infinite Regression
I am victim only to constant distractions, restrictions, prescriptions, vicarious factors, as various factions of elitism prescribe defeat to the common man; the hard working talented beaten upon by the self driven commerce land. Businessmen, crooks, warlords and bankers; victory purports itself the higher moral ground. ******* the world, lie on the crimson sand. The brevity of riches in led laden ditches, trenches v armistice; one man’s control over cadets and lieutenants. Equality it seems is general ignorance, propose roll reversal and receive corporal punishment. Capital interests will be met with bursaries, bail out the banks and return to your knees, put out your hands and beg for your feed. If the top three percent own more wealth than the lower half put together while politicians claim to be fair-weather, conclude that sincerities amiss, that your representatives are on the pay roll of profit driven lobbyists. Career crazed fat-cats couldn’t care less if you're in tattered garments or there’s a hole in your dress, their polished boots carry them from vault to vault while we fill another with oil-baron asphalt. As social repression pushes populations science progresses, enabling armed forces to kettle us, cut us off and circle on horses. Power-shifts across the globe become jaded by investment with private militias and fascist supremacists seizing resources from war torn villages to fund their crude sourced morality, migrants and refugee families are vilified by ignorance forged in cynicism caused by the inequality of education. Here lie the symptoms of infinite regression, hold mirror to gene-pool as it replicates the same flawed equation, as populations expire and conspire so does the problem. Bombing a country without repercussions, is as likely as a breaking the waters surface without sending ripples to the adjacent atoms. These are the dark ages of social stagnation.
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44
Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts. They graze and grunt all over again, Entering slumbers following the daily sweep Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots. Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun. Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun: Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth Malleable as a result of dependency. Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone. I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new. Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression Or swindling modifications. You put me here. My eyes anyway. Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new. Even as the shadows swells A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed. One momentary memory visits. Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned What I have not. They pause, breathe.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Dear Hera, From Argus
Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts. They graze and grunt all over again, Entering slumbers following the daily sweep Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots. Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun. Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun: Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth Malleable as a result of dependency. Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone. I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new. Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression Or swindling modifications. You put me here. My eyes anyway. Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new. Even as the shadows swells A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed. One momentary memory visits. Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned What I have not. They pause, breathe.
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31
Mistook A word for a new episode The way the neo-world behaves Submitting into odd cultures Where else everything abandoned gathers dust "Tragedies" they say What we write Nonetheless, I felt shame Shame for the present generation All is lost None is found A shimmering light couldn't possibly save a couldron Which is rusted black And soot gathers within but we incorperated with it Trivial indeed The minds of modern replicates the lost No miracle is left to salvage And dreams are left as fairytales Decipher of you will The tragedy I unfold For I have resolve to nothing The time packed for us is tightening And bodyparts are left bound Sad indeed, to them they say "You write tragedies, yawn....." For I write poems, not tragedies
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Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
I write poems not tragedies
Writhing in agony, calling the name of yours, As it's to save me or maybe, of some importance, I am to remember the day when my oak door, Opened by you as a part of an art performance, Made the sound of joy (so I thought, when I saw you first, Laughing, choking and literally, aware Of me being zealous and feeling this very thirst) Your curse never fled in the end of a love affair. Now, I'm writing poems, and every day, Like a mirror, my memory replicates you. Coming closer and teasing, you never walk away, As if you are the only truth and the only safety.
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
Mirror
They scream, shout and swear To emphasize an emptiness of cocern Which includes a compliment Uttered thus in blank verse That effects in ambigious contradictions To sustain a wave of insult and injury In obscure fragmentation of mind That replicates an abundance of inrigue Where plausible reason is not made possible For the expression of strenuous protest That would secrete itself with morbid indulgence Upon the tongues of others to command a strange silence Like that shouted by the seeker of an Apocalypse
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Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
Very, Very, Manic Street Preachers
Tongue scalded by coffee I am finally awake today. When the sun’s kisses burn my skin, and I am finding a new threshold for this. This flint spark where it outshines the moon at the dead of night. Lost in the forest, trudging thoughts through woods where luminescence is nonexistent. A gas tank explodes in the middle of the city. See now how my mind trudge thoughts of light? Heat? Pain? Thundering through my cranium like mad dogs barking, this is summer. Summer, where heat dilutes my vision. I am awakened. The sands crept to our feet as it replicates each of its curves, took their body heat and turned everything to Mexico. Jalapeno lips, I make them quiver. Quiver like tasting a spoonful of wasabi. Quiver your name to the sound of the hottest song on air. Pretending it was some ice to cool off my scalded tongue. See how I am trudging? Because this had to be enough to make my mind a rustle piece of abstract, visions flint spark, when you near me, pressed your palm against my shoulder. And I swear that was when I felt warmth for the very first time.
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Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
Heat Stroke
I handed her my cigarette Half burnt, and my last one for some time She pulls it to her lips, drags, and exhales slowly through her nose All the while, she didn’t miss a step on the ice stained pavement I can see her lipstick-less grin stained against the filter By some means which i can’t understand She throws the **** down in front of her Waiting a solid 4 seconds for her foot path to meet alignment with it I tried throwing out words, but all I could hear was a bunch of stuttered sobs cutting in and out in between my breathing She’s leaving tomorrow Packing everything she owns into a truck Just to later unpack, wait, and pack those things back into a similar truck I step toward her front walk We exchange a subtle wave, and a slow goodbye “Trying to fight this urge again” as i thought But my body takes control, disregarding my thoughts And grabbing a hold of her small nimble fingers I find the strength to speak “I’m really going to miss you. You don’t understand how much it hurts losing such a fantastic friend.” Her face was turned aside, shielding my view of her cheap makeup rushing for her chin She replicates my words, and body language But i heard nothing she threw toward my ear canals “I love you” and i can’t believe that I said it at that Her sobs start to thunder, echoing to the end of her street “I’m sorry I ****** up. I knew you had better use for my friends than I” As much as I wanted her to stay, my heart begged her to get on the earliest flight to the middle of nowhere Her crying reminds me of a jet engine, roughly 2 days after September 9th, 2001 “You’ve been here for everything. Why do you have to give up now..” I know this is a bad time, but her blubbering brain won’t let her think We hug, and i turn backwards as fast as I can “Remember me when you spend 6 hours alone on a one way street to nowhere” And so she left
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
6 Hours.
I handed her my cigarette Half burnt, and my last one for some time She pulls it to her lips, drags, and exhales slowly through her nose All the while, she didn’t miss a step on the ice stained pavement I can see her lipstick-less grin stained against the filter By some means which i can’t understand She throws the **** down in front of her Waiting a solid 4 seconds for her foot path to meet alignment with it I tried throwing out words, but all I could hear was a bunch of stuttered sobs cutting in and out in between my breathing She’s leaving tomorrow Packing everything she owns into a truck Just to later unpack, wait, and pack those things back into a similar truck I step toward her front walk We exchange a subtle wave, and a slow goodbye “Trying to fight this urge again” as i thought But my body takes control, disregarding my thoughts And grabbing a hold of her small nimble fingers I find the strength to speak “I’m really going to miss you. You don’t understand how much it hurts losing such a fantastic friend.” Her face was turned aside, shielding my view of her cheap makeup rushing for her chin She replicates my words, and body language But i heard nothing she threw toward my ear canals “I love you” and i can’t believe that I said it at that Her sobs start to thunder, echoing to the end of her street “I’m sorry I ****** up. I knew you had better use for my friends than I” As much as I wanted her to stay, my heart begged her to get on the earliest flight to the middle of nowhere Her crying reminds me of a jet engine, roughly 2 days after September 9th, 2001 “You’ve been here for everything. Why do you have to give up now..” I know this is a bad time, but her blubbering brain won’t let her think We hug, and i turn backwards as fast as I can “Remember me when you spend 6 hours alone on a one way street to nowhere” And so she left
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37
I beg and churn and oft dream, I crave and long from all in my being, All that is scattered all that is seen, All that is bound to decay, All to stumble back in your way, Frivolous being am I to sight, Everything I am doesn't fit right, 18 years to build this mould, That replicates what is foretold, A venture in this soul, Had me realise it is dead,has no goal,
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Jan 3, 2025
Jan 3, 2025 at 5:38 PM UTC
Venture in my soul
One tree composes the entire sassafras grove Vegetative manifest destiny propels its growth Even as the green leaves turn black I searched for that sinful seed That began this unchecked growth Of endless reproducing replicates Fatigue, distrust, remorse Anticipation, heartache, shame Every emotion I encountered Claimed to be a person with that power Yet feelings are false and can be fallen The bark I’ve scratched, the leaves I’ve torn Some I’ve even overcome Still the forest only thickened more Then I fell myself Now my ambition, once unjustified and diffuse Sprouts with the vigor of sassafras Reclaiming land thought lost with a green And very visible hand that holds onto mine The forest continues to densen Sweet sinful confusion still conceals the heart Beating the path has only become harder But in your eyes I see my pain Irrelevant as the means to the end We will find the root And steep its very core We will drink it And we will see more
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Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 8:28 AM UTC
Searching
They say be free Be great Be unique Words spoken with no reason Cause with them you can't treason Be free While they cuff you every time you try to flee Be great While they're controlling your fate Be unique Means choose one of what they chased They say be free They say be free You hypocrites You base words on what ? how can you be so tortuous As to make me reason my every step Then you crush it You make me dream so big Then you crush it Over and over and over They say be free I guess freedom in their dictionary means be everything we want you to be Be replicates of us So they say be free They say grow They mean grow around this tiny box Grow but don't you dare and argue with us So they say be free and grow and be unique But they mean standard unique You know, like being like everyone else. So be free but don't be Be free like us Grow but don't grow Grow like us Be unique but don't be Be unique like us Well guess what you got your wish Now you feel how unpleasant dealing with someone like you is ..
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Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
point of no return
If I was Johnny handsome Android you'd soon avoid this thing that replicates the hates and feeds upon the oily fears of those not quite his metal peers and shearing through the drift and dross on wheels 'cause legs are no dead loss to look upon the nuts and bolts excretia of the fools and dolts who engineered with sneers on faces Androids bound in metal cases and then in utter exhaltation crowned the kings of every nation. A super sheen metallic gleam shines out from eyes that see in ratios and Pi's and rises high above the humdrum lives where hand in glove they slave away to build Androids at ten a day for little pay and even less to say. This is the void where we will end as we rush to tinker and to tend to the revolution of Android evolution.
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Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
Tomorrow
You play a perfect harmony to the music of my soul In 4/4 time the last measure is our goal You conduct me along with the swift movements of your bow Sweat collects on your prominent brow as you hit the note a little too low Andante to vivace my heart rushes to tempo We hold our fermata embracing the moment, slow The notes sit on the page while my thoughts dance with the rhythm They leap and they frolic to the sounds of the broken hymn A little sharp, maybe flat Our pulses quicken assai, as though Haydn intended that Like the Baroque Era wrote for us and our meetings in private Our handshakes that last long and our glances that are silent But it won’t last and we will face the caesura of our love It transpires as we ignore the baton waving above Our duet will end as it started, quickly, like the flight of a dove Le Carnaval Des Animaux replicates my scrambled mind No matter how hard I search, the answers I cannot find In hectic chaos I’m blind to the clearest option staring straight at me A simple kiss will suffice in helping me see For to be the maestro I must know every part Feel each chord progression and triad deep down in my heart A kiss will answer if these feelings are true Or if because of my dreams I have sudden interest in you Whether the moment is a roar of fortissimo glory Or it is a disappointing sforzando into the diminuendo of our story Do you feel a crescendo when our eyes meet for a second? Like we’re calling each other closer and with each blink we’ve beckoned One another to draw in the coda finale Together we may join and our notes, they will rally By the last bar they’re in unison and our cadence is clear The next movement will begin, there is nothing to fear
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Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
Maestro
You play a perfect harmony to the music of my soul In 4/4 time the last measure is our goal You conduct me along with the swift movements of your bow Sweat collects on your prominent brow as you hit the note a little too low Andante to vivace my heart rushes to tempo We hold our fermata embracing the moment, slow The notes sit on the page while my thoughts dance with the rhythm They leap and they frolic to the sounds of the broken hymn A little sharp, maybe flat Our pulses quicken assai, as though Haydn intended that Like the Baroque Era wrote for us and our meetings in private Our handshakes that last long and our glances that are silent But it won’t last and we will face the caesura of our love It transpires as we ignore the baton waving above Our duet will end as it started, quickly, like the flight of a dove Le Carnaval Des Animaux replicates my scrambled mind No matter how hard I search, the answers I cannot find In hectic chaos I’m blind to the clearest option staring straight at me A simple kiss will suffice in helping me see For to be the maestro I must know every part Feel each chord progression and triad deep down in my heart A kiss will answer if these feelings are true Or if because of my dreams I have sudden interest in you Whether the moment is a roar of fortissimo glory Or it is a disappointing sforzando into the diminuendo of our story Do you feel a crescendo when our eyes meet for a second? Like we’re calling each other closer and with each blink we’ve beckoned One another to draw in the coda finale Together we may join and our notes, they will rally By the last bar they’re in unison and our cadence is clear The next movement will begin, there is nothing to fear
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31
The scene sways to double voices, and the library stillness draws dull attention into warbling intricacy flitting amongst television feelings. A surface connection waits at half the distance to every pretty looking girl that passes by. But the cracks are the most interesting. In sidewalks, in streets, in spirit. I'd let their faults divide them into one of the sixteen trash bins on the way to class. It's only past, and the significance is imprinted upon the present. And I guess it's a heavy cotton flannel kind of day. One dissociated from hard wood, where the metal corners nestle in a thick layer of fabric, and embrace it. The heavy cotton clouds only embrace for so long, the fog replicates familiar separation anxiety in the early morning consistency. Midnight swells from the left to steal the rays from my room.
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Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
Untitled
at times I have gotten tired feel sick of what I do I feel like hue & cry to express the me of my nobody can replace still replicates I want to re-live those moments the journey of discovery the nature in you so calm the army of fanatics in me dark & dull clumsy nights long hours of a day don't know why a confession not that usual but those were the moments I lived abstract from the scratch and again mesmerised.-29.11.2016
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
Mesmerised...
I break down into a heartbeat through a whipped cream canister; God’s feet whomp at the Pearly Gates. Incapable of sin, I’m unable to think. Love jitters through every pore of my skin & laughter drools out. In an out-of-body only Malcolm In The Middle exists when Dewey asks, “is your brain big enough to get your feelings hurt? Me neither”. My life replicates art, choking out brain cells, and I no longer have to know what my heart feels. My brain is too small for that.
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Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC
a poem about doing whip-its
I have a lot to say to you that I wish I had said before. I say: "I love you" but I wish I had told you something more. I wish I had told you that I appreciate everything you do for me. If I had just one moment to reflect on my mistakes, would I be free? In my head I tell myself that we will be together forever. But then you come at me like we're nothing but fickle weather. The words I said were once smooth, the finest fabric But now they shatter like glass, creating climatic havoc The house trembles and quakes around us as we continue to fight. Just another fractured window broken in the dead of the night. Objects hurled through the room you're throwing as you're crying. Our first photo hits the glass littered floor as I fall to silence. I'm bleeding! I'm on my knees, I'm begging! You're cheating! He walks in the door, I'm yelling! You're screaming! I'm collapsed on the floor, I'm dying! You're leaving! I'm fighting to stay awake, I'm seizing! A polished shard of perspective replicates your intense beauty. Dancing flames of passionate anguish and emotional cruelty. Piercing my heartbroken chest crimson trickles around the buried blade. You flee the scene watching the blood flow around the choices you made. Lying in a puddle of my own blood the sound of sirens begins to haunt me. I remember when we first met, you were in college and I was a nobody. How sad you were when I first joined the army, and I was sent overseas. I watch the car leave the driveway...what could I have done differently?
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Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 1:20 AM UTC
Fickle Weather [October 10, 2017]
I have a lot to say to you that I wish I had said before. I say: "I love you" but I wish I had told you something more. I wish I had told you that I appreciate everything you do for me. If I had just one moment to reflect on my mistakes, would I be free? In my head I tell myself that we will be together forever. But then you come at me like we're nothing but fickle weather. The words I said were once smooth, the finest fabric But now they shatter like glass, creating climatic havoc The house trembles and quakes around us as we continue to fight. Just another fractured window broken in the dead of the night. Objects hurled through the room you're throwing as you're crying. Our first photo hits the glass littered floor as I fall to silence. I'm bleeding! I'm on my knees, I'm begging! You're cheating! He walks in the door, I'm yelling! You're screaming! I'm collapsed on the floor, I'm dying! You're leaving! I'm fighting to stay awake, I'm seizing! A polished shard of perspective replicates your intense beauty. Dancing flames of passionate anguish and emotional cruelty. Piercing my heartbroken chest crimson trickles around the buried blade. You flee the scene watching the blood flow around the choices you made. Lying in a puddle of my own blood the sound of sirens begins to haunt me. I remember when we first met, you were in college and I was a nobody. How sad you were when I first joined the army, and I was sent overseas. I watch the car leave the driveway...what could I have done differently?
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28
Today the ocean lost its blue texture. It appears today gray and shimmering. For the sky itself is in control and the sun can only work so hard to push its way through the stubborn clouds and to be seen and needed. Though rarely wanted. Desire of a lonely human to stand still in the moving current and get covered and possessed by Poseidon's wave. Than a cloud to pour out buckets of rain for display of pure beauty to be destroyed. Nature acts up as a mother who slaps her child. She, like the sun, cannot push any longer. Or the young man overpowered with want, lust, and brutal obsession, to control the innocent girl he loves. Ruining a beautiful relationship like the clouds overbearing the natural beauty. The child walking by another one alike at the park holding in one hand a brown paper bag scrunched at the top filled with chocolates and a lollipop. Notices the alike child crying. The child crying looks up and out of nowhere sees that he is handed a big, round, colorful lollipop. That itself replicates the action of the wave. Poseidon taught us through the creatures in his sea to be kind and be brave and strong. Calls Apollo in the lonely sky to assist his beautiful fiery sun that deserves to appear before the world. For our Gods to create, another wave for those who must start over again. For the Gods are to guide us, and we, to be human, and learn from words, and nature. From the wave to the sun, create, and change, the anger, hate, and brutality. For us to learn and let go. And be happy.
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Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
From the Wave to the Sun
Today the ocean lost its blue texture. It appears today gray and shimmering. For the sky itself is in control and the sun can only work so hard to push its way through the stubborn clouds and to be seen and needed. Though rarely wanted. Desire of a lonely human to stand still in the moving current and get covered and possessed by Poseidon's wave. Than a cloud to pour out buckets of rain for display of pure beauty to be destroyed. Nature acts up as a mother who slaps her child. She, like the sun, cannot push any longer. Or the young man overpowered with want, lust, and brutal obsession, to control the innocent girl he loves. Ruining a beautiful relationship like the clouds overbearing the natural beauty. The child walking by another one alike at the park holding in one hand a brown paper bag scrunched at the top filled with chocolates and a lollipop. Notices the alike child crying. The child crying looks up and out of nowhere sees that he is handed a big, round, colorful lollipop. That itself replicates the action of the wave. Poseidon taught us through the creatures in his sea to be kind and be brave and strong. Calls Apollo in the lonely sky to assist his beautiful fiery sun that deserves to appear before the world. For our Gods to create, another wave for those who must start over again. For the Gods are to guide us, and we, to be human, and learn from words, and nature. From the wave to the sun, create, and change, the anger, hate, and brutality. For us to learn and let go. And be happy.
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53
A complicated succubus, an emasculate homunculus Both hollow & irrelevant, haunted by their revenant Broken, tired husks of **** they wallow through, brace & bit Bounded by his lust to breed, she replicates a stolen seed Demons pass to cretin’s progeny, foreordained to homogeny An optimist can’t see the truth, nonsensical & uncouth But, spin your straw to golden fleece, if Stiltskin’s magic brought you peace Your neck should wind up ‘round a noose, …complacency from Mother Goose
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Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
Modern Cynicism
Spoken words, while lively, are fumbled about with, met with a familiar understanding. An array of information exchanged, thoughts and ideas, floating about in the energy, expounding from the individual aura. As a white light encompasses those, we choose to direct our energy. Love abounding from source, is always interpreted from perspective. The consensus views an outward appearance, even when frequencies are matched. Letting flesh take over, not meddling in the spiritual veil floating above. Those that deny this power, will be denounced to walk amongst themselves. Those that recognize the true inner nature, will be invited into the garden. Be still, breathe in the comfort you are provided with, bask in the energy of source at this moment, but do not ask for more than you are provided. Raising to a frequency, still able to interact, I can now see their intentions, and in them lies no tact. Standing on the mountain, we see things for what they are, for everything in the physical body, replicates behind the veil. We walk amongst you, we converse amidst the harshness sensed. We meddle in our creative aspirations, in hope that you too will understand. Those that recognize the true inner nature, will be invited into the garden.
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Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
The Garden