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"rescinded" poems
1344 Not any more to be lacked— Not any more to be known— Denizen of Significance For a span so worn— Even Nature herself Has forgot it is there— Sedulous of her Multitudes Notwithstanding Despair— Of the Ones that pursued it Suing it not to go Some have solaced the longing To accompany— Some—rescinded the Wrench— Others—Shall I say Plated the residue of Adz With Monotony.
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Not any more to be lacked—
It has never been my intension nor was it ever a bone of contention to alter or disrupt the social convention but now is the time to pay close attention to the decline of the human condition Responsibility rescinded creating moral decomposition accountability abandoned causing legal repercussion right and wrong are muddled in a malicious juxtaposition public opposition has festered into social imperfection the omission of tradition by politician’s redefinition HEED THIS ADMONITION OR ARDENT APPREHENSION SAGACIOUS SUSPICION AND PERSISTANT PREVENTION Of the decommission of the Physician, Pediatrician the Technician, and the Mathematician and give this acquisition to those with no ambition even those under suspicion of sedition or held in detention without fear of restitution This is the deception of the devolution of the middle classification and the total destruction of American personification praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
THE OMISSION OF TRADITION
Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem. Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water. I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it. That makes it worse. So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news. Here it is: I Like Facebook I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why. I like looking at the pictures, Friends I’d never meet another way. I like friendly messages, Passages of verse I’d never read If not for Facebook’s lead. I like Likes and Comments kind, Find in comments rich expressions. Possibly I’m one of few - or few new millions. I’m inspired when tired, fired up. Even when I’ve written ‘crap’ No one’s there to trap me. Some reviewer always sees my views, Understands. Someone always sends Me praise; ends with a Like. I’ve never had a spikey word; Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard. Commonality forever somewhere, there Where someone wants to start a group. Always somebody to whoop de whoop: Somewhere folk who populate; A troupe with common passions. Then there are the monthly Happys: Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters… Never had one word rescinded. Reminded gently daily: Classmates, playmates I’d forgotten, dovetailed, Blazoned on the psyche; Friends and places, And of course, the faces - It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee, A source of history. As for weaknesses I’ve read about – Never think to route them out, Going ‘bout my business, Focused on creativeness, The lofty and the small. I like Facebook. Happy Facebook to you all! I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
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Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
I Like Facebook
Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem. Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water. I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it. That makes it worse. So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news. Here it is: I Like Facebook I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why. I like looking at the pictures, Friends I’d never meet another way. I like friendly messages, Passages of verse I’d never read If not for Facebook’s lead. I like Likes and Comments kind, Find in comments rich expressions. Possibly I’m one of few - or few new millions. I’m inspired when tired, fired up. Even when I’ve written ‘crap’ No one’s there to trap me. Some reviewer always sees my views, Understands. Someone always sends Me praise; ends with a Like. I’ve never had a spikey word; Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard. Commonality forever somewhere, there Where someone wants to start a group. Always somebody to whoop de whoop: Somewhere folk who populate; A troupe with common passions. Then there are the monthly Happys: Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters… Never had one word rescinded. Reminded gently daily: Classmates, playmates I’d forgotten, dovetailed, Blazoned on the psyche; Friends and places, And of course, the faces - It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee, A source of history. As for weaknesses I’ve read about – Never think to route them out, Going ‘bout my business, Focused on creativeness, The lofty and the small. I like Facebook. Happy Facebook to you all! I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
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44
John Berryman is dead all his invitations, rescinded unlikely as it seems, Pound has not been uncaged and Pisa remains uncovered by the summer's sky John Berryman is dead his cantos have, indeed shaken my courage expressions have been lifted and letters signed and delivered John Berryman is dead it seems he did not die at too slow a rate, after all the Washington Avenue Bridge spoke too quickly and too loud, whispered in his father's voice John Berryman is dead released all his demons and avoided all his devils grieve for this stranger, made friendly and strange the bells sing too late John Berryman is dead bones go all the same all the same accept our envy O winner of praise sing your dreams dead poet
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Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 10:00 AM UTC
John Berryman Is Dead
Story time children gather 'round for the tale of the man consumed by sound It all started with the turn of a stereo **** and a CD of a step left dubbed that allowed the bass to explode in the place in the face of a man innocent to the sub When he awoke, slightly dazed bass in his ears eyes slightly glazed he listened closely, intently and was amazed at the length of the drop and the strength of the bass tried to cover ears to make it stop but found broken wrists rapping tapping to the beat, bass, and pounding space heart attack, heart attacked by bass and beat and beat and beating of feet as they started to move fleeing, fleeting, as they started to groove Shocked by the abuse his brain was taking he didn't think of stopping the movements his body started making hips popping, arms locking, twisting, contorting, spastic as his body was dropping And as the bass rocked, so did his mind each length had resistance dropping each bump of bass had adrenaline pumping jumping coursing, pushing the drug through veins, so right making him feel so, so light despite the heaviness his chest felt keys on keyboards run, leaving him winded lungs on fire, ready to implode and when he couldn't take any more the music silenced, rescinded Lying broken on the floor he begged and begged for the speakers to speak no more but as his shaken voice left his mouth his fingers did reach and with an addictive touch and he knew what the rest of the night held in store
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Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
Left Broken by the Bass
Magic was in the wind today for from its drone on my windowpane, I caught a call, I knew the tone and thought I heard your voice again. Murmurs were in the wind's low moan for in its whisper toward my pillow, I heard you talk, I felt you near and I lost the dread of being alone. Mystic the tune in today's brisk wind for by its song my grief rescinded, I knew the lilt, I had you here and what I heard my heart believed.
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Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
I Heard.
I don't know how it happened. This leviathan, Dismissed so casually. All glory — Now fading and unknown. Promises emptily rescinded, Without consequence. Without care. The woman only known in my arms. Now happy without this tender embrace. One of us in ruins. One of us reborn. All passion and fury denied... Rendered in pity, Shameful and frail. Once a lion, Once a titan, Once a myth! Now a fool. You are the hunger I never knew. The night rain. The stars. What is left without you? Only disgrace, Only mourning. Empty breath. I regret nothing.
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
This Pain Is All I Have Left Of You
***** fission ringwormed and worn in a fetal position blue blood(less) and opaque partly venus partly awake brittle smoke the basement of youth from the lower           drifting street outlined by morning gashed translucent wings and braid empties out the milk brigade                                                                (ice water hymns   collided gaze rescinded unto twitching haze)                                dried rose thorns upon her head yourself the queen denied the dead footsteps 'neath the ardent wonder shy gaze threaded 'tween the thunder 20 numbers in a pin ***** line wishing they were pierced by 9 if 13 could he'd lick your prime but 13's 0 next to 9 (number 9 in its prime was nothing less if not divine) pulsing thorough the line is fine young of spirit and sanguine 1-10 were neighbor kinds 11-20 like grapes upon an earthen vine... but they all shied away from 0....because 0 led a life of crime was going away then dropped a dime he ratted out his old friend 9 then skipped this town due for the rhine
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Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
east side venus
Rescinded feathers of gold, ostracized from above, thriving on macerated souls. exhaling silence... through obsidian realms, eternal purgatory, brimstone corridor facade... waiting in exile, darkness interwoven with fear. life interrupted...death prevails.
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
Recinded
1416 Crisis is sweet and yet the Heart Upon the hither side Has Dowers of Prospective To Denizens denied Inquire of the closing Rose Which rapture she preferred And she will point you sighing To her rescinded Bud.
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844
Crisis is sweet and yet the Heart
when, requisite pains reside in the heart of the poet. awaiting release by the gaoloring, racontuer or racontuese reclining, scornfully, within. it is then, it happens so, upon the granting of  the id's manumission. memories, maudlin or immeritous are rescinded from the bitter, saltfaced mine, of personal history.. when such are finally granted jubilation, given proprietary parole, on, the nib of a pen. they then, take time, as of now, as in the present tense, to, relieve themselves, copiously, onto to paper.... leaving only an inkstained jumble of letters, for you,(those left to toil) to decipher, as you may. before on the run for freedom's wind they go.... like..... lemmings off a cliff.
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
my cryptic soul says....
My happiness was just a misprint The timing can't be more awful I rebuilt myself up from the ground I expected that I'd grown from it Yet somehow I've regressed to when I let shadows seep through cracks I've just left myself vulnerable Is there a cure for hollow cries Where hope could spill I swim in fear Of retracing my oldest of habits The future was once an invitation And at this time has been rescinded So I hide in my corner and wait forever That I'd flow with the courage I lack But as everything is taken from me The unknown is deadlier than I wish
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Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Regression
To know a love that transcends all, Where all else fades to grey, And all the trivial toilings known, Promptly drift away. And there's no longer any need, To question future lot. And all the failings of your past, Promptly are forgot. And euphoria is a daily breath, Effortlessly received. And all the love that is professed, Promptly is believed. And any foe which may appear Is easily defeated. And every "I love you," softly spoke, Promptly is repeated. And all thoughts, silently known, No words even shared. And any injury received by one, Promptly is repaired. But when one of two depart, And one life is ended. Hasty promises of forever, Promptly are rescinded. And I'm not certain all the pro's Can make up for the con, Of enduring a day when such a love, Promptly is just gone.
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Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 7:45 PM UTC
Promptly
Battling TL Leaves B2B The Fake God finally won the battle The battling TL got booted out of the B2B account She asked him how he would feel on it It’s ok as we’re friends and you’re still here You reported the Fake God for his six thou wanga He got another rep to give him and he lost ninety four thou When suspended that month tho he was finished The call centre rescinded that and gave him a month rest He came back as only he can do the job You reported his lieutenant lap dog for dodgy upsells The magic number is five users add four to the one you picked Both are still there like pet dog and food bowl You mark on the account is noted and in my poems All the best on your reassignment And stick with the army training too
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Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 1:01 AM UTC
Battling TL Leaves B2B
At first there was life and it thought it'd live it whole. But later it teetered on the edge of a knife as it steadily descended into a twilight of the soul. Nevertheless, from this void can bloom a flower if only, it but courages the mirror in sight and choose to believe in its power to be the spring of its light.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Twilight rescinded
I rescinded the invitation You can stop your invasion Careless Cruel Calculating Perhaps even dumb like you said Inhuman  you are You are not welcome here
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Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Banished never vanished
The stars came down from the sky on a happy evening They were children for a night and played with madness and abundance They danced the somber evening out in the ghost grass as it coveted all dirts. Forgetting for so many moments, wreathed in the now They'd  been burning with power, changing the fate of forever And existence. Songs of so much destiny were played out by their weary hearts. And for a while they were not alone, foreseeing futures untold and impossible yet Right in front of their eyes Rescinded to the heavens forgetting naught They burn as childrens glee in innumerable skies Never to be lost. Until the ghost grass sees the light of many days past. And the stars come down once again To dance in the vision of tomorrows wake Until drawn back into nothingness
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:39 AM UTC
Fae ring
What wicked waking day has thou cast upon me? For fallen forsaken I shall rise and rise again. Take this turmoil upon yourself for I take you upon my back. Keep all neurotic speech ever rescinded, for tonight you burn with me.
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Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
What wicked waking day
A silent trap ensnared my life, my head felt pulverised, a stolen voice and lifeless limbs, left me perplexed and paralysed. I sat in frightened endless wait confused and petrified. I could not shout nor dial for help I simply lay and cried. I woke, still broke, to a familiar call, with sense and rhyme inverted. No indicators flashed this change, life's path strangely diverted. But this was not a yellow wood, For I never had a choice. If I had, I'd have called their names, rather than mouth in silent voice. They looked at me confused and shocked, a mother disconnected. No thoughts, could escape this shell with mind still unaffected. Shuttled there in flashing blue hospitalised intervention, with medicated urgency, testing a failing comprehension. But I'd lain long in darkened time, and missed that magic hour, the minutes gone forever, tick-tocked in rescinded valor. My symmetry from right to left, had left muscle withered fading. I felt their gentle massaged touch too late for caressed salvation. I've seen their hurt at losing me or that part of me that mattered. My life has been frozen still, but theirs has sadly shattered I lie here, long night and drawn out day, moving, unfortunately assisted, my internal struggle to communicate leaves doubts I once existed. The years this stroke has stolen and drip-dried a mother's tear, has wounded deeply, this mortal coil, filled my tomorrows with shades of fear. A silent trap ensnared my life, no one could interfere, but when you visit, please talk to me, lest you forget, I'm still in here.
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
I'm Still In Here.
A silent trap ensnared my life, my head felt pulverised, a stolen voice and lifeless limbs, left me perplexed and paralysed. I sat in frightened endless wait confused and petrified. I could not shout nor dial for help I simply lay and cried. I woke, still broke, to a familiar call, with sense and rhyme inverted. No indicators flashed this change, life's path strangely diverted. But this was not a yellow wood, For I never had a choice. If I had, I'd have called their names, rather than mouth in silent voice. They looked at me confused and shocked, a mother disconnected. No thoughts, could escape this shell with mind still unaffected. Shuttled there in flashing blue hospitalised intervention, with medicated urgency, testing a failing comprehension. But I'd lain long in darkened time, and missed that magic hour, the minutes gone forever, tick-tocked in rescinded valor. My symmetry from right to left, had left muscle withered fading. I felt their gentle massaged touch too late for caressed salvation. I've seen their hurt at losing me or that part of me that mattered. My life has been frozen still, but theirs has sadly shattered I lie here, long night and drawn out day, moving, unfortunately assisted, my internal struggle to communicate leaves doubts I once existed. The years this stroke has stolen and drip-dried a mother's tear, has wounded deeply, this mortal coil, filled my tomorrows with shades of fear. A silent trap ensnared my life, no one could interfere, but when you visit, please talk to me, lest you forget, I'm still in here.
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50
In my palm, I offer four. Glimpsing, you ask, "Isn't there more?" Had you accepted, you'd be sure: Fruitful abundance was in store. Not understanding soulful lore; Rescinded four; a ceased sojourn.
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Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
Seeds
Rudy's idea that trump hush money with character witness in a defamation law suit rescind the amount in question for favorable glance with Stormy's ****** this question of honesty no longer applicable in case.
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May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Rescinded
stop by the side of the road and sitting scarecrow's style cross-legged waiting for the sunrise waiting for the swift silent desert world to unfold come sit here a silent sentinel with me wait for the swift sun to beat its hard feet upon the ground wait for harsh winter's hand to be rescinded for the cold night to recede here in the desert stillness come sit here cross legged in the dry sand feel the air itself holds its breath in anticipation you can feel the heavy hard excitement moving in the clouds overhead burnt dry by the anvil of the sun love the sand on your tongue wait here with me   scarecrow's cross-legged style on the sands without a sea
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
december's desert
By: Cedric McClester Once the love had been rescinded I don’t think it could be mended Even though we both pretended Look at where it actually ended With us running out of patience Placing blame then battle stations Acrimony and accusations Name-calling and strained relations You can’t drink From a broken glass Nor live your life In the past You have to move on And alas Accept the color Once the dye has been cast For the record I would like to state That our love had an expiration date And so it crumbled there’s no debate Cos there’s a thin line between love and hate Once that fact had been detected Though we tried it couldn’t be resurrected In the ghetto of the love that we erected Weeds grew where the ground was neglect You can’t drink From a broken glass Nor live your life In the past You have to move on And alas Accept the color Once the dye has been cast What’s the point in seeking answers All the leaves have fallen off the branches In the burial ground for failed romances Lies the graveyard for second chances It’s pointless for us to try to return By now you would have thought that we learned Play with fire and you’ll get burned You only get out of life what you have earned So excuse me while I proceed What we want we don’t always need The wise ones learn and then take heed Even though their hearts may bleed You can’t drink From a broken glass Nor live your life In the past You have to move on And alas Accept the color Once the dye has been cast (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
YOU CAN'T DRINK FROM A BROKEN GLASS
By: Cedric McClester Once the love had been rescinded I don’t think it could be mended Even though we both pretended Look at where it actually ended With us running out of patience Placing blame then battle stations Acrimony and accusations Name-calling and strained relations You can’t drink From a broken glass Nor live your life In the past You have to move on And alas Accept the color Once the dye has been cast For the record I would like to state That our love had an expiration date And so it crumbled there’s no debate Cos there’s a thin line between love and hate Once that fact had been detected Though we tried it couldn’t be resurrected In the ghetto of the love that we erected Weeds grew where the ground was neglect You can’t drink From a broken glass Nor live your life In the past You have to move on And alas Accept the color Once the dye has been cast What’s the point in seeking answers All the leaves have fallen off the branches In the burial ground for failed romances Lies the graveyard for second chances It’s pointless for us to try to return By now you would have thought that we learned Play with fire and you’ll get burned You only get out of life what you have earned So excuse me while I proceed What we want we don’t always need The wise ones learn and then take heed Even though their hearts may bleed You can’t drink From a broken glass Nor live your life In the past You have to move on And alas Accept the color Once the dye has been cast (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
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54
Why do people come so unglued? When the one they love decides to leave. After all, they just a person. Love, is a giving quality offer in kindness. Which can be rescinded within a moment notice. It has never been accepted as a token. Why do people let love destroy their soul? After achieving it strictly for you. Sometimes, it pays to let it go. But unglued they become with irrationality. Losing all sensibility to truth and reality. Leaving many wondering why? They vented frustration in that kinda way. It's hard to explain. We offer opinions and more. While knowing the one with the answers refuses to explain. Least anything of common sense.
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
Unglued