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"resonation" poems
As I lay beside my darling On an early Sunday morn, I could feel her rounded softness Sleeping under blankets warm. My mind caroused the memories And loitered on it's way And found itself deliciously, Immersed in golden play. I remembered something special In the way my little boy would look As his eyes rose up in wonderment When I read his favorite book. And the joy involved in feeding A hungry little mouth When the porridge spooned all over From the eyebrows heading south. A tantalizing moment On the beach down by the sea, In the warm December sunshine With my happy family. We were running in the black sand Drawing circles with a stick As the surging waves approached them Laughing little boys were quick. Laughing, happy moments And some sad ones like the day When dear old Meg, our Labrador, Got sick and passed away. Young Boaz in his sadness Climbed the big tree to it's crown And it took a lot of pleading To persuade him to come down. And young Solly played the taniwha At the Cornwall Park school play And a better taniwha has yet To grace the stage today. A natural in his element This young comedian So hilariously funny As he drew the audience in. The tender, loving moments As we both strolled arm in arm Through the verdant Ferntree Gully With it's sunlit grace and charm. And the towering eucalyptus, Hanging wood smoke in the air And the whiplash resonation Of the lyrebird hidden there. Of Buttercup's wild parties When fancy dress was king, When everyone would whoop it up And laugh and dance and sing. When mum's and dad's and little kids All joined the happy throng With spud mashing as a ceremony And a night of fun and song. Of sitting in the garden With your feet up and a book And a cold beer at your elbow And a barbecue to cook. With the easy feel of family As they go about their day And the joyous sound of summer When two noisy tui's play. Memories of yesterday Moments in the life Of ecstasy and agony And wonderment and plight. And the ordinary ness of everything And the magic everywhere, Like the auburn in the sunlight As it strikes my darling's hair. Marshalg Mangere Bridge 10 October 2009
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May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 7:36 PM UTC
Memorable Moments
As I lay beside my darling On an early Sunday morn, I could feel her rounded softness Sleeping under blankets warm. My mind caroused the memories And loitered on it's way And found itself deliciously, Immersed in golden play. I remembered something special In the way my little boy would look As his eyes rose up in wonderment When I read his favorite book. And the joy involved in feeding A hungry little mouth When the porridge spooned all over From the eyebrows heading south. A tantalizing moment On the beach down by the sea, In the warm December sunshine With my happy family. We were running in the black sand Drawing circles with a stick As the surging waves approached them Laughing little boys were quick. Laughing, happy moments And some sad ones like the day When dear old Meg, our Labrador, Got sick and passed away. Young Boaz in his sadness Climbed the big tree to it's crown And it took a lot of pleading To persuade him to come down. And young Solly played the taniwha At the Cornwall Park school play And a better taniwha has yet To grace the stage today. A natural in his element This young comedian So hilariously funny As he drew the audience in. The tender, loving moments As we both strolled arm in arm Through the verdant Ferntree Gully With it's sunlit grace and charm. And the towering eucalyptus, Hanging wood smoke in the air And the whiplash resonation Of the lyrebird hidden there. Of Buttercup's wild parties When fancy dress was king, When everyone would whoop it up And laugh and dance and sing. When mum's and dad's and little kids All joined the happy throng With spud mashing as a ceremony And a night of fun and song. Of sitting in the garden With your feet up and a book And a cold beer at your elbow And a barbecue to cook. With the easy feel of family As they go about their day And the joyous sound of summer When two noisy tui's play. Memories of yesterday Moments in the life Of ecstasy and agony And wonderment and plight. And the ordinary ness of everything And the magic everywhere, Like the auburn in the sunlight As it strikes my darling's hair. Marshalg Mangere Bridge 10 October 2009
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75
Where the lines blur, and pages end where I cannot see a future anymore for us where the light and darkness come and pass as time, here it is only grey inside There used to be a window where a sparrow hid at light-crack by the sill and sang shrilly in the morning, he would sing calling in the light of God, he’d sing for us The silence has grown thick, shaved ragged potential, daydreams posed as promises sharp was the resonation of our love sharp are vile weapons and words drawn between us now Betrayal finds its way upon my tongue I’d spit it out before it turns to venom I’d have to say you’re poison to me now left with nothing but constriction and a failing heart Were you my elixir, but a count of days before? How sweet the lily of the valley’s scent how pure is her white compilation of forever restfulness, the peaceful trickery and death I’d say it’s time to lay this love to rest Place flowers at the feet of mounds of earth seal the wound of expecting hearts, we were bleeding fluid prayers upon the stones Attempting to bring the dead Back to life
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Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Inevitable Drift
Our life’s definition lies beyond what we use to define life emotion & thought observation & action acceptance & debate our bodies heed to balance like the earth to the moon & sun we are forged by the unknown as much as the known through pulsation and reservation do we align ourselves with our true resonation
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Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
Intuit
When the ocean wave strikes against the beaches in the fullmoon, All of it's essence shattered to molecules into the thin air, And our pores drink from it's mother nature's ether! It's this resonation of nurture breathe fire within our breath, And sense of moments come into a perfect circle of the celestial.
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
Zen of Terra and her Children
Running Blind Madness Eyes Wide Heart Pounding Spirit Lifts Senses Live Theres Thunder IN THE Atmosphere This IS A Free Arena A Gateless Auditorium Open Fields Open Wide Forking Lightning ON THE Horizon This Natural Inebriation IN Dynamic Resonation Anticipation OF THE Consternataion Hells Beasts Abound Snarling Snouts Sounding Heavy Hoofs Pounding Crazed Dashing Hounding IN THE Chaos That'S Surrounding Hells Beasts Abound Torso'S Writhing Flailing Grit Bucking Flailing Crimson Flow Tailing THE Gore OF THE Impailing I'M Knee Deep IN A River OF Blood Fleshen Heap IN THE Reddening Flood Sodden WET Flesh Whip AND Turn Trace THE SKY With THE Carnal Rain WET THE Earth With A Reddened Stain Sodden WET Flesh Whip AND Turn Trace THE SKY With THE Carnal Rain WET THE Earth With A Reddened Stain Sodden WET Earth Besot With Death Mirth Drown THE Earth IN THE Afterbirth Every Beast THE ****** Herse DON'T RID ME OF THE ******* Curse IN AN Ever Rising River OF Blood Causing Chaos With NO Remorse I AM Power IN Full Course Wreaking Havoc Sump WET Dripppin' Torn This Bloods LET BY MY Horn I'M Sopping WET MY ****** Horn I Feel Like I'M NEW Born Drumming Quakes Pounding Shaking THE Foundation Lifting Spirits IN THE AIR I AM GOD Everywhere Helter Skelter IN THE Chaos This IS Pandemonium Freedom Forms IN THE Void Electric Flux Obliteration Pure Intoxication AS Evil Incarnation This Revelation IS Anihilation
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Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
(Wreaking) Havoc
Beyond the light our demons bite Our spirits gather in plasmatic flight Upon entropy elementals feed Used up magic, envy and greed Portals open and bid us within As we fight to regain our former sins We are one yet containing all Such is the force of kinetic law A resonation of migrating souls Not even the black stage can hold Great White lodges, astral planes Deities appear to rule and reign Part I
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
ASCENSION
The pulsation shared between you and I Cannot be imprisoned within words It is an immaculate resonation of ineffable union Indistinguishable from perennial notions Connecting two souls to two folds in that which does not harbor time
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Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
Heartbeat
I follow the star trails moving lights I sing to myself in acoustic sighs Here, resonation is at an all time high Misty tears let me know I'm alive While I wander through the valley of life Wishing for a daffodil under an orange sky Reminds me of moments before the rise And fall of this endless night No matter how long, I will always remember to wait for the sunrise Imagining your hand in mine
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Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
Daffodil Valley
I Waiting for my clock to break an arm I wonder why there are two moons In the sky on the mirror above the ground I stroll upon in the dark dark night But who would listen to my footsteps That contradict their own resonation For I always walk In sanity II How do we talk And how do we walk? Like innocence drowned in chalk Or just abhorrence painted black? Why does the mirror shatter? It is because of beauty, or a heart blackdusted, like this— like   this like   this like   this like   this like   this like          this like          this like          this like          this like  this         dislike III Following your eyes and their dauntless form I beat the tears out of the moon In the bog where we used to mourn For deceased children whose hearts shone bright But who would weep along to us Whose sirens live alone in contradiction For we always talk In sanity
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Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
Longing in Sanity
High in the sky; eyes met. The lovely lady by my side. Time together spent between land and air. Carefully careless; and aware. Funny finding our way back to the initial connection. To where we first shared art. Then did we depart? Similar surroundings. Different destinations. The astounding woman's vibrato. Resonation. Sensation. Elation. Still, to this day, sustained.
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Mrs. Airplane
i've a plundering urge to whom it is absurd,                      the black teeth                      the blood scribes                      the woe, the whither,                                                the word i felt seen   from afar telescoped warmth  cups my right shoulder and i expand from shrivel   in your forgiving light are you my soilmate ? for you i prepare scents   beading from my most sweaty regions        a moist sporing    emits in nifty allium spritzes i stammer to a standing position                           and exercise my full height sporting,            i swing and tap an annihilated aluminum bat               sounding out my specific code of fidelations                    resonation through the ground                      and suddenly you are near                     receiving the humming                   up the souls of your doughy bare feet                          you shiver i prance wildly and perfect kilter in my hips i offer to preen you i present you with a pyramid of spittle balloons i **** myself a little i sink my teeth into your side    (it's not 'your jam'     but we recover the mood) i give chase to you for you to be chased and it's a wild kind of keen fun          and you are a madcap display of laughter and wide smiles and   within     i feel a gordian nest            of some lust manoeuvre  (maybe we can copulate face-to-face ?) pondering scars     wounds that were much deserved the white meat    the bright stars    delivered who is rude to the rule       of what is ours ?   i knew you magnesium burn    and unwholesomely dauntless   bold   your portfolio always within an easy reach your passionate simmering might    you branded my eye and now we're similar    mites in a feather simian partners surveying territory needs and then you’re gone again         vanished        and we are distant minds that strike the hour together                                 like before between our signals I am met with cross chatter my hemispheres bicker and retorting memories barrage         refunding the past     and taking you away from me i am a mating dunce once more              i shrivel
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May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 9:00 PM UTC
mating prance
i've a plundering urge to whom it is absurd,                      the black teeth                      the blood scribes                      the woe, the whither,                                                the word i felt seen   from afar telescoped warmth  cups my right shoulder and i expand from shrivel   in your forgiving light are you my soilmate ? for you i prepare scents   beading from my most sweaty regions        a moist sporing    emits in nifty allium spritzes i stammer to a standing position                           and exercise my full height sporting,            i swing and tap an annihilated aluminum bat               sounding out my specific code of fidelations                    resonation through the ground                      and suddenly you are near                     receiving the humming                   up the souls of your doughy bare feet                          you shiver i prance wildly and perfect kilter in my hips i offer to preen you i present you with a pyramid of spittle balloons i **** myself a little i sink my teeth into your side    (it's not 'your jam'     but we recover the mood) i give chase to you for you to be chased and it's a wild kind of keen fun          and you are a madcap display of laughter and wide smiles and   within     i feel a gordian nest            of some lust manoeuvre  (maybe we can copulate face-to-face ?) pondering scars     wounds that were much deserved the white meat    the bright stars    delivered who is rude to the rule       of what is ours ?   i knew you magnesium burn    and unwholesomely dauntless   bold   your portfolio always within an easy reach your passionate simmering might    you branded my eye and now we're similar    mites in a feather simian partners surveying territory needs and then you’re gone again         vanished        and we are distant minds that strike the hour together                                 like before between our signals I am met with cross chatter my hemispheres bicker and retorting memories barrage         refunding the past     and taking you away from me i am a mating dunce once more              i shrivel
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54
Aqueous bombs descend from these eyes / As I wonder beneath nightfall. / Seeing, hearing the kaleidoscopic dream / As it unravels, unfurls through me / Heightens my perceptivities. / I am luminous, I am luminous / As I glisten upon the dreamscape. / I am a cosmic reverberation, / An ethereal resonation / Luminosity, blue-hot./ Self-sovereignty: / I am a freedom all my own, / Lows (algid), / Highs (empyreal, pyroclastic); / I am astral. /
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Aug 12, 2024
Aug 12, 2024 at 9:46 PM UTC
Beneath Nightfall (Originally penned on Wednesday, September 27th, 2023)
Whispers in shadows Reveal the keymakers.     Infinitely     Traveling Ecko Resonation
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
Latin
Pulsating track lights. Resonation. Sunlight trickling down my neck as it set, following the same pattern as your fingertips that afternoon in your kitchen, dripping like morning sweat. When there was nothing left to say, we filled the silences. I adored your friends before I knew you, yet my gaze drifted to your shadow as you stood behind a sheer black curtain; no bigger than a toy soldier in my periphery but I'd already memorised your shape. I'd know you anywhere. Sixteen thousand other people saw you, but none like me. She asked why I was blushing. I had no explanation for the way my heart raced as I remembered whose body I would sleep next to that night. There you were, in my sightline, and yet I ached for you.
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Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
Violence in Violet Brushstrokes
My howl… Is not a cry of desperation It is not an attempt to chase away separation It is not a drunken cry of remnants from the bar It is not a rock and roll crazed imitation Then why howl if not to be the known? To howl is my soul crying out in resonation You don’t hear it For it is a resonation not on the outside but within The veil between human and beast growing thinner and thin Changing me from what I have been Can you see it? Can you taste it? Can you smell it? Can you feel it? Yes? No? Maybe? So!? To howl has purpose and standing Not fear It’s pride And joy blood sweat and tears It’s passion and power and rage but in bliss I’m not the only one who can howl as they please For anyone can howl even on their knees In ancient rome it was the Trojan’s battle cry And at my best friend’s house It’s roast beef and turkey and mustard on rye It’s an eagle soaring high In the sky It’s an ordinary person Starring death in it’s cold eyes It’s the courage to face the noise Of their fire Their fire Their fire Burning us But our fire Our fire Inside and alive Smolders and burns the judgment away They say you are a fool If with fire you play But they do not know That we are the fire!!! Brighter than the sun Dangerous to all So we howl In pride We howl with joy we howl in unison and our pack shall rise as one
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
My Howl
They all talk of being born with skin of glass. I live with flesh of stones; no mortar holding together my pieces. One harsh touch to crumbling down into a pile of debris like houses after disaster. Houses that home the bodies of the forgotten. Houses of the people I used to love in a time when  love was something I was capable of doing. A time when blood ran through the veins that are now tangled grape vines. When the boulder in my chest once held the names of people whose lips I've once kissed. I am no longer able to hold people without them being a part of me. Whose heart was made into solid rock and built me. I am made of everyone I have broken. I remember you visited me last year, laying flowers at my feet. Crying, begging me to hold you. Begging me to take the pain away. You traced the lines of my composure, you rested your head against my solid chest. The chest that doesn't contain the resonation of a beating heart. I wanted to tell you I am sorry. I'm sorry for keeping them from you, I'm sorry that their names are etched into me. I'm sorry for being the only reminder of the ones whose absence you feared. I still remember the day the carved each death date into my side, It didn't hurt. Nothing hurts other than seeing your tears that shower onto the flowers that bring beauty to the darkness I am made of. Maybe I'll become numb someday... maybe it'll be the day they carve your death date into my surface; maybe death will look a little more beautiful.
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Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
Something about a gravestone
They all talk of being born with skin of glass. I live with flesh of stones; no mortar holding together my pieces. One harsh touch to crumbling down into a pile of debris like houses after disaster. Houses that home the bodies of the forgotten. Houses of the people I used to love in a time when  love was something I was capable of doing. A time when blood ran through the veins that are now tangled grape vines. When the boulder in my chest once held the names of people whose lips I've once kissed. I am no longer able to hold people without them being a part of me. Whose heart was made into solid rock and built me. I am made of everyone I have broken. I remember you visited me last year, laying flowers at my feet. Crying, begging me to hold you. Begging me to take the pain away. You traced the lines of my composure, you rested your head against my solid chest. The chest that doesn't contain the resonation of a beating heart. I wanted to tell you I am sorry. I'm sorry for keeping them from you, I'm sorry that their names are etched into me. I'm sorry for being the only reminder of the ones whose absence you feared. I still remember the day the carved each death date into my side, It didn't hurt. Nothing hurts other than seeing your tears that shower onto the flowers that bring beauty to the darkness I am made of. Maybe I'll become numb someday... maybe it'll be the day they carve your death date into my surface; maybe death will look a little more beautiful.
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1
Thief of words Thief of mind Is it envy? Resonation? Or is that poetry mine? You mine and you dig at my future thoughts Dig away at my throat till the language is lost Tossed, torn, thrown aside I lied you cried , you're a tourist to my eyes Shacked up in this place just somewhere to hide Then I finally realised They're yours to keep Maybe to be a poet I am just too weak you're a thief of mind Thief of soul Carrier of mystery Miner of gold Float along now With your shoulder strung sack You're striped stealing suit And your pen, jet black Write the things I'm going to say Cause they'll choke on my tongue or hit the hay anyway
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Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 10:31 PM UTC
The Thief
Ground control      to impulse control           are you in control? What's your frequency?      Whats your vibration? Your resonation      has resigned           from the radar Too many astral planes crashing      Lost like a sacrifice           to the island           of isolation My mind's a loaded weapon Too many triggers      to finger      BANG      temptation This is lust      for little deaths           of inspiration This is dreams of debauchery      This is the self-prescribed      nightmare of reality Waking up to hangovers      from a rope           in the basement
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
******* A Stream of Consciousness
A reading of this poem is here: https://youtu.be/pAIgogKxcNA?list=PLBxu_QsDqWVXmIytZbwojqP6VwFcC5xeZ ___________________________________________________ He died that night. His chin a mesh of wet, broken asphalt, blood and glistening white flesh. What did you want? A quirky dialogue, a dose of fiction and science, a ******* poem Jesus! I said it glistened, didn’t I? Damply reflecting his solitary and meaningless life that he had built up to be something more something wonderfully significant This must be a pathetic assault on the indignity of the world It’s lack of acceptance for My total loneliness among the pattering drops and the dosed lights hazing and incomprehensible forted, feigning, but there A physical barrier that pretends to be. That’s kind of like the guy. How convenient! Are you following? The lights were the last thing he probably saw. but there in the peaceful death did he gasp one last word? A cliche. Is that better? An improvement upon self-referring, concept refraining, phrase like a sustaining note struck by a hammer struck by a white key struck by bone and flesh a resonation resigning to a precious exit, honoring the one thing he valued? Are we getting somewhere now? Did the alliterative foiled words help to unwrap the meaning of this poor ***** last breath? No. But I recall a gurgle followed by a splurch of blood and his eyes so fiercely clenched cowardly denying the wet moment as he died that night And I meant to leave the ****** apostrophe out This is art @Macbigicekeys
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Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
Inner Critic
A reading of this poem is here: https://youtu.be/pAIgogKxcNA?list=PLBxu_QsDqWVXmIytZbwojqP6VwFcC5xeZ ___________________________________________________ He died that night. His chin a mesh of wet, broken asphalt, blood and glistening white flesh. What did you want? A quirky dialogue, a dose of fiction and science, a ******* poem Jesus! I said it glistened, didn’t I? Damply reflecting his solitary and meaningless life that he had built up to be something more something wonderfully significant This must be a pathetic assault on the indignity of the world It’s lack of acceptance for My total loneliness among the pattering drops and the dosed lights hazing and incomprehensible forted, feigning, but there A physical barrier that pretends to be. That’s kind of like the guy. How convenient! Are you following? The lights were the last thing he probably saw. but there in the peaceful death did he gasp one last word? A cliche. Is that better? An improvement upon self-referring, concept refraining, phrase like a sustaining note struck by a hammer struck by a white key struck by bone and flesh a resonation resigning to a precious exit, honoring the one thing he valued? Are we getting somewhere now? Did the alliterative foiled words help to unwrap the meaning of this poor ***** last breath? No. But I recall a gurgle followed by a splurch of blood and his eyes so fiercely clenched cowardly denying the wet moment as he died that night And I meant to leave the ****** apostrophe out This is art @Macbigicekeys
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34
Audible unspoken soliloquies wandering from room to room Resonation in minor scale oddities Color the gathering gloom For I know not from whence they come Music from my soul These keys which I’ve always succumb not from reluctance are they extolled. For it is the music of the universe that continually rewinds itself in light years across the steely perverse from some interstellar shelf Rhythm from some random pulsars in galactic syncopation in quantum entanglement these stars this meter by synchrotron radiation Beamed into me and I know not why Sometimes I can feel it Sometime its grace makes me cry But most of all it will permit Me to see the purity within it and the beauty in all things for it is never-ending and will not quit this music in my own cosmic strings I thank God for this celestial download I am a better human because of it Am I worthy of this honor bestowed? I will not question His wisdom forthwith Parts of it because I am a musician and the other parts of astronomers these two in the synergy of fission of notes, telescopes and binoculars So if you visit my house and hear strange melodies playing in the back of your minds it’s the music of the spheres strange soliloquies within your minds beginning to sublime. Dave Proffitt 8/11/2016 6:03 PM
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Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
Soliloquies in Minor Keys
You know sometimes I need to re-familiarize exactly what was so present i have realized. Correlating between these eyes. A delicate beautiful world arises upon a soul you became to adore. May wield caution with a heart I pour. Her atmosphere  tends to bewilder you, Be wary of her fragile nature. As I construct  this sentence  to construe. As I trace the portraiture of her. The subtle silence of her breaths resonates  unspoken words you are face upon. Its a tragedy of the death of such expressions that belong. As they seem to lose there authenticity. Admittedly  i confess she may be just a mystery. Along with the nights that transmute to day, except  ill never stray. Time lost in the conjuction .. Just can't help to notice the foreign Construction of her essence. As it may appear as a pleasance. Don't get to entranced. Cause you just may miss the chance.   As appealing as her resonation seems. A composure  to redeem as I drift upon her dream.
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Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC
Constraints of love
Vibrational hues eclipse my exterior , reverberating upon my senses. Parallel bars synchronize around me, am I a prisoner as the resonation keeps me within this spot. I can feel within a perfect storm of repetition. Like chambers bouncing off each other, trying to find a synchronization. I look at myself, breaches spring forth, this shell is to weak to keep me in. Shattering forth, I'm pure volume. The bars start to spike, As I break free. We become harmonized, what tried to bind is now part of my reality.
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Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 5:31 PM UTC
Harmony Of Everything
more often than not and as cliche as it sounds, your face is one of the first things i think of when i wake up and one of the last i think about before i go to sleep. my eyes have always searched for you in a room full of people and always will my eyes drift in your direction when i know that you're anywhere in my vicinity. your laugh is my second favorite thing about you because your voice is my first. constantly do those two aspects or qualities of you resonate inside of my head day in and day out only making me want you more than i already do. i am in love with you. and as much as i hate letting those words roll off of my tongue and out of my mouth it's probably the most genuine and pure thing that i've admitted to in months. i've got to face it. i'm never going to be swept off of my feet by you, because the fact of the matter is, you don't want me. i won't ever be your first choice. there was never a day where you looked at me and thought of me as important or worthwhile investment to look into. i will never be important to you.. or even relevant. and i know this is gonna sound quite cheesy, but waves of disappoint crash on the shorelines of my chest way too hard when i think about the fact that my "person", is never in a million years going to be you.  for never in a month of sundays would i have thought that i would be head over heels for someone who's lips mine has never gotten the opportunity to grace. they say that once someone starts to love them self enough, they'll stop chasing after people who don't love them. needless to say, i stopped chasing after you, it's just embarrassing because i really didn't want to.
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Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 2:01 AM UTC
resonation
more often than not and as cliche as it sounds, your face is one of the first things i think of when i wake up and one of the last i think about before i go to sleep. my eyes have always searched for you in a room full of people and always will my eyes drift in your direction when i know that you're anywhere in my vicinity. your laugh is my second favorite thing about you because your voice is my first. constantly do those two aspects or qualities of you resonate inside of my head day in and day out only making me want you more than i already do. i am in love with you. and as much as i hate letting those words roll off of my tongue and out of my mouth it's probably the most genuine and pure thing that i've admitted to in months. i've got to face it. i'm never going to be swept off of my feet by you, because the fact of the matter is, you don't want me. i won't ever be your first choice. there was never a day where you looked at me and thought of me as important or worthwhile investment to look into. i will never be important to you.. or even relevant. and i know this is gonna sound quite cheesy, but waves of disappoint crash on the shorelines of my chest way too hard when i think about the fact that my "person", is never in a million years going to be you.  for never in a month of sundays would i have thought that i would be head over heels for someone who's lips mine has never gotten the opportunity to grace. they say that once someone starts to love them self enough, they'll stop chasing after people who don't love them. needless to say, i stopped chasing after you, it's just embarrassing because i really didn't want to.
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1
Standard behaviour from the Russians. Obliteration by sheer numbers and force. 190,000 troops on Ukraine's border, now forging their way into the pristine land of their cousins. Shall be interesting to see their tactics, Russians were never good at improvising, Slavishly taking their orders from the war room, those old Generals who fought long ago in Afghanistan and perhaps joined the action in the Chechen affair, both, of which, ended in ignominious withdrawal by the Soviet Union. Putin's forces have never been encouraged to think for themselves, never encouraged to initiate. The leaders always suspicious of delegating authority. The lesser commanders will not assume responsibility. All decisions will come from the war room. This is the Russian way. Commit the cannon fodder, obliterate by sheer numbers. Stalin did it, now Putin is taking up the chalice. Under the pretext of "Peacekeeping forces". Putin won't stop at the Dneiper river, he wants the whole country, he wants the vast wheatfields and the mineral wealth. He wants, what he regards as his entitlement, that which used to be a vassal part of the old USSR. So far, the response from NATO has been weak. The USA, war weary from Vietnam and Afghanistan, wants no part of the action. Token sanctions and a dithering resonation from old Joe show little resolve there. Boris Johnson, who needs an injection of popularity after his Covid indiscretions, is at least broadcasting belligerence to the Russian invaders and is following up by sending advanced weaponry and advisors to an embattled Ukraine. Broadly the world is sitting on the fence, muttering outrage and wringing the hands. Putin appears to have taken their measure well. M. 25 Feb 2022
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Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 3:16 PM UTC
Cry for a Crippling of Hope
Standard behaviour from the Russians. Obliteration by sheer numbers and force. 190,000 troops on Ukraine's border, now forging their way into the pristine land of their cousins. Shall be interesting to see their tactics, Russians were never good at improvising, Slavishly taking their orders from the war room, those old Generals who fought long ago in Afghanistan and perhaps joined the action in the Chechen affair, both, of which, ended in ignominious withdrawal by the Soviet Union. Putin's forces have never been encouraged to think for themselves, never encouraged to initiate. The leaders always suspicious of delegating authority. The lesser commanders will not assume responsibility. All decisions will come from the war room. This is the Russian way. Commit the cannon fodder, obliterate by sheer numbers. Stalin did it, now Putin is taking up the chalice. Under the pretext of "Peacekeeping forces". Putin won't stop at the Dneiper river, he wants the whole country, he wants the vast wheatfields and the mineral wealth. He wants, what he regards as his entitlement, that which used to be a vassal part of the old USSR. So far, the response from NATO has been weak. The USA, war weary from Vietnam and Afghanistan, wants no part of the action. Token sanctions and a dithering resonation from old Joe show little resolve there. Boris Johnson, who needs an injection of popularity after his Covid indiscretions, is at least broadcasting belligerence to the Russian invaders and is following up by sending advanced weaponry and advisors to an embattled Ukraine. Broadly the world is sitting on the fence, muttering outrage and wringing the hands. Putin appears to have taken their measure well. M. 25 Feb 2022
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An agreement of sort nowhere before we begun the promise of new days in the setting of the suns an internal pledge a chosen vessel formed fear sticks in the spoke the riders has been warned separation the grand illusion a denial of the source along comes a low resonation from peace and love to war realization of meaning sparks a bright blazing torch illuminating higher thoughts   an agreement of sort .......................................
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Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 8:48 AM UTC
AN AGREEMENT OF SORT