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"retrievable" poems
Breathe and breathe and breathe for me I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you This world This life The love and happiness All in your eyes Breathe and breathe and breathe for the best of things Breathe and breathe just breathe for me Read and read and read its right Think and think keeps me up all night The words that push and push with every sight I’m going blind from the thought… alright. So breathe and breathe and breathe for me We know I sure as hell cant do it decently I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you I can’t get enough of this green Sight all filled with blue Open my eyes- open to you… Just another night, no sleep in slight Bad rhyming ****** me off But this music is soothing And I get so inspired thinking of life Breathing is so hard Holding me back To many people around Only two can share solitude happily In the best of company How the cool air rest upon my skin Delicate and white never known what sun is Soothing, breath is still missing From my lungs only retrievable from love… But that is far, now close enough for now All there is, is hope But hope is held in God, if you believe in him What a lie of course you do I see it you just need to speak it. Maybe think about the breathing for once. Easy to forget when its not a loved one. Yes I did that and yes I did this. But I did it cause I obsess just a little bit. I don’t care just move out of the way, Please pilot, I’m done with the west, fly east for me. I wanna see the stars that you can never see in New York City I wanna be in the limits of the devils play ground With you holding one hand Jesus gripping the next Who cares if I sound crazy? Every great artist had their thing I can admit I’m rambling With incompatible ridiculousness But it’s true to say, I can’t breathe today When I can never breathe Can’t breathe until this life grants me with a touch And the **** tree’s will always be **** Iowa. It’s only in between.
0
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
For Once Could I Ever Breathe, ****
Breathe and breathe and breathe for me I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you This world This life The love and happiness All in your eyes Breathe and breathe and breathe for the best of things Breathe and breathe just breathe for me Read and read and read its right Think and think keeps me up all night The words that push and push with every sight I’m going blind from the thought… alright. So breathe and breathe and breathe for me We know I sure as hell cant do it decently I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you I can’t get enough of this green Sight all filled with blue Open my eyes- open to you… Just another night, no sleep in slight Bad rhyming ****** me off But this music is soothing And I get so inspired thinking of life Breathing is so hard Holding me back To many people around Only two can share solitude happily In the best of company How the cool air rest upon my skin Delicate and white never known what sun is Soothing, breath is still missing From my lungs only retrievable from love… But that is far, now close enough for now All there is, is hope But hope is held in God, if you believe in him What a lie of course you do I see it you just need to speak it. Maybe think about the breathing for once. Easy to forget when its not a loved one. Yes I did that and yes I did this. But I did it cause I obsess just a little bit. I don’t care just move out of the way, Please pilot, I’m done with the west, fly east for me. I wanna see the stars that you can never see in New York City I wanna be in the limits of the devils play ground With you holding one hand Jesus gripping the next Who cares if I sound crazy? Every great artist had their thing I can admit I’m rambling With incompatible ridiculousness But it’s true to say, I can’t breathe today When I can never breathe Can’t breathe until this life grants me with a touch And the **** tree’s will always be **** Iowa. It’s only in between.
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58
You sit in silence, on lotus deeply meditate, in the end recount the tale of life, simple for a moment,in a nutshell, the sky of your mind is clear. But materials of millions of light years in our tale is beyond retrievable limits, on that no confirmation is needed, simple logic will tell you that the life you live couldn't be an isolated one every one of the neurons of your brain, is a star in this thickly braided, interwoven   universes, that die and take birth. Before and after simply must be there, but, as it is out of bounds for the senses, limited to a time and space we are groping in the dark. So what now, don't you want to go beyond -- in to the ocean where human logic can't stand, and end the intergalactic expedition with light and darkness as references. Break the final barrier exploring  the universe within, decide to be the light undiminished for ever; embrace enlightenment breaking the golden chain that ties down,  desires.
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
The curious tale of our interminable travels
The fight to keep us together Is certainly unbelievable The fights we have Hurt, like hell but are retrievable You are affectionate and extroverted Your full of wonders of joy and your heart felt But me I was introverted but it's different now U helped me with stress and pain I've dealt It makes you sympathetic when you listen to my problems I know I complain and whine a lot, it's just this love is divergent When I say I feel ugly you say the opposite you say beautiful You make me smile and giggle, when I need you sometimes it's urgent But if we take out our fights and out in good times Everything seems to align like the stars, just right To me ur my world and larger then life You are my BOOBEAR and my hubby, I'll be holding on to this love very tight I love your smile, it's so cute with ur messed up tooth Stop calling yourself ugly, you know I don't like when you do it I think you are the cutest most sexiest man alive And don't forget it(;
0
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
The fight of love
Sometimes I see and feel a whole poem in my mind all at one time like a painting a landscape of alluring colors and form a star-filled ebony sky a perfectly formed blossom or a spectacular instant a burst of lightning vehement rumbling of thunder the fleeting glimpse of a rainbow a moment of inexpressible joy and love... a child's delighted laughter a new mother's glow white-haired lovers walking hand-in-hand but... I can't seem to take it apart and name the pieces. The fragments are dandelion seeds blown to the wind once scattered not retrievable. But the feeling they present as they float freely about is worth letting them go.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
Pieces
It’s retrievable from where? The center of this chest. Folded up beneath the bone, Before it makes a crest. Awake again, my searching hands Once numb, now fill with fire. The need to shape, to form, create Has formed its own deep pyre.
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Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
Retrievable
*Seven years ago, I knew you. Present day, now I don't. Gaps in time. Never retrievable, unbelievable nearly how much passes by.   But here we are, so transfixed again. Seven years later, and yet, it doesn't seem to matter. Feelings rise back like the sun rises in the east. Simple, yet meaningful chatter. We met in our youth, whimsically and pure. Two young souls, we lust; in a splendidly serendipitous summer. We met again without intention, without mention of something greater: fate. Memories of you wash over me, your name resurfaces. Hypnotized by the pull, you reach out for me. We truly met in adulthood, filled with newfound awareness. Two souls, we fell in love; laughing about silly arbitrary things like swiss miss hot chocolate, bonobos, salad dressing and coated spinach. (I want whip) Sharing stories of our crazy college days; Together, getting caught with our clothes off, to watching love birds in a courting ritual. Recalling conversations - "what about a mastodon?" through intense concentration. Walking along the unsalted deep blue, I wish we could have stood there forever, side by side, hand in hand... We couldn't of course, not pragmatic; the bitter cold became problematic. Gusts of frustrating winds, a hail of bullets. Misty eyes and whirlwind romance. I reached back too far, arched and overextended. Agreements altered and amended. Haunting words of imperfection, and collection of unretrievable memories. We met in our youth, whimsically and pure. Two souls, we lust; Seven years, I'll see you later.*
0
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
Gaps in time
*Seven years ago, I knew you. Present day, now I don't. Gaps in time. Never retrievable, unbelievable nearly how much passes by.   But here we are, so transfixed again. Seven years later, and yet, it doesn't seem to matter. Feelings rise back like the sun rises in the east. Simple, yet meaningful chatter. We met in our youth, whimsically and pure. Two young souls, we lust; in a splendidly serendipitous summer. We met again without intention, without mention of something greater: fate. Memories of you wash over me, your name resurfaces. Hypnotized by the pull, you reach out for me. We truly met in adulthood, filled with newfound awareness. Two souls, we fell in love; laughing about silly arbitrary things like swiss miss hot chocolate, bonobos, salad dressing and coated spinach. (I want whip) Sharing stories of our crazy college days; Together, getting caught with our clothes off, to watching love birds in a courting ritual. Recalling conversations - "what about a mastodon?" through intense concentration. Walking along the unsalted deep blue, I wish we could have stood there forever, side by side, hand in hand... We couldn't of course, not pragmatic; the bitter cold became problematic. Gusts of frustrating winds, a hail of bullets. Misty eyes and whirlwind romance. I reached back too far, arched and overextended. Agreements altered and amended. Haunting words of imperfection, and collection of unretrievable memories. We met in our youth, whimsically and pure. Two souls, we lust; Seven years, I'll see you later.*
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44
'think what you want to say wait, til you can say it right.' so- I remember the exact wording half asleep around midnight come 6am more brilliant in the blur of something that is not retrievable. all the ones I forget are covered in gold. then it would seem- I do my best writing in dreams.
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May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
Slips
Hazy crescent, Fueled in memories Sunny days, Beaches we kissed Streets & hugging Bottles, hammocks, work over Nothing left Irredeemable Retrievable, Only through shining down. Where are your lips now? Locked with others As pale light Remembers both of others The stocky brown dog Following my spring And children still on skates with hockey sticks Cars will doubtless roll on, Not slower As their existence in our life wanes And if I traveled back Would I find myself in the same shade, Looking over? Surely He’d relax elsewhere Silver light watches In solitary moments, Nostalgia becomes my character, I stare at the sky Then look away As I did, Feeling too shy, As your eyes regarded me
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May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 4:33 PM UTC
To Luna, who makes me cry
understand that we both have problems understand that I've lost it too, that ability understand that the ability is retrievable understand that ability to trust ; principle to lust trust me understand that jealousy is a beast that consumes me ; everyday understand though,  that I shall slay it and display it for all to see for all to understand trust me sometimes I don't understand either but that's okay because understanding isn't something that comes to you ; we must seek it so i dare you to trust me i dare you to fall into my arms i dare you to take that leap for i will jump with you so understand understand that whatever happens i will try to understand try to understand you ; us try to understand it all every fault          weakness                   crack                        corner                             weeping night or                                       moment of ecstacy everyday i learn so i ask ; will you be my teacher?
0
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
Understanding
Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay cuz, earlier this July forth two thousand eighteen ja way windows closed, doors locked, and car keys visibly splayed on driver seat oye vay feel free to call me a horse's *** today utter anxiety compounded, plus unable to locate master key, thence fodder for poem and more to say rifling thru boxes without success, an impulse arose to call road upon learning policy doth include locksmith service, ah felt less doggone snappish, and uttered hoo ray though modest aye, congratulated awesome, fulsome, and handsome self on quick thinking, and automatically became less tiresome pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason (as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay then immediate decided, sans ditto explanation, but no how and nay yet honest to dog suddenly felt like a young lovestruck lad during month of May and without further delay a compulsion arose to putter along, though momentarily gazing heavenward and counting (just beak caws) glistening black crows plus painfully aware a spike in recurrent "senior" moment of forgetfulness grows, thus starkly aware significant rustiness increasingly, frightfully, and chokingly coats lix spit tillage harrows resuming schlepping dishabille crotchety bedeviled aching body electric irksome with fringe benefit (such as momentary lapse of reason) quite aware mettlesome ness of youth nonrefundable, non-reliable, and non-retrievable, and guaranteed continued pricking, viz nettlesome degenerating aging telomeres, sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes leaving a once robust person some what discombobulated and easily toilsome.
0
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
Ode To An Oklahoma Locksmith
Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay cuz, earlier this July forth two thousand eighteen ja way windows closed, doors locked, and car keys visibly splayed on driver seat oye vay feel free to call me a horse's *** today utter anxiety compounded, plus unable to locate master key, thence fodder for poem and more to say rifling thru boxes without success, an impulse arose to call road upon learning policy doth include locksmith service, ah felt less doggone snappish, and uttered hoo ray though modest aye, congratulated awesome, fulsome, and handsome self on quick thinking, and automatically became less tiresome pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason (as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay then immediate decided, sans ditto explanation, but no how and nay yet honest to dog suddenly felt like a young lovestruck lad during month of May and without further delay a compulsion arose to putter along, though momentarily gazing heavenward and counting (just beak caws) glistening black crows plus painfully aware a spike in recurrent "senior" moment of forgetfulness grows, thus starkly aware significant rustiness increasingly, frightfully, and chokingly coats lix spit tillage harrows resuming schlepping dishabille crotchety bedeviled aching body electric irksome with fringe benefit (such as momentary lapse of reason) quite aware mettlesome ness of youth nonrefundable, non-reliable, and non-retrievable, and guaranteed continued pricking, viz nettlesome degenerating aging telomeres, sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes leaving a once robust person some what discombobulated and easily toilsome.
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57
Déjà vu’s dusk and certain glooms persist, When I’m drunk, A foul whiskey And come closing, with a hand outstretched, Scouting for safe or surface , Any guide or lane away from yearning. But I do and I want; I thirst for a tap atop pale palm And not come my own claw; But rather the benign I once remembered, Now “retrievable,” in only dream, Confined to only dream It’s when I stub my most remote of toes, That I realize – Blood stains white carpets, I’ve had too much to drink And have once again forgotten My way to rejection, ejection and the bathroom. In desolation conglomerate lethargy I make my way towards slumber, Coma’d on my crimson carpet, Curled into a little ball, afraid like abandoned cats And lesser the enthusiastic for morning, Quite the opposite a child and more so the escapist.
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
Night Light
i watch time slip through my fingers congealing on the floor beneath my feet a mass of viscous matter    unretrievable      unsalvageable gone forever passed so quickly leaving nothing remarkable on my heart    nor brain but the unending cycle of retrievable time continues giving me relentless chances    to make things better      to make things good to become remarkable.
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
the passing of time
The Cost “5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping,” when the inquiry arrives, how long/where from it comes, gave this answer more or less the response accurate more or less the weeping really never ceases I will return to it again, **** poem random when, unreasoned why, wherefore a stumble, a message, months from now, tomorrow, even decades and I’ll remember the precise circumstances for each poem has a Cost, that excises a piece of you, a new cut, freshly salted, an antibiotic of loving may remove the redness, but not the white line, so what you call a scar, I, I call it an etched memory preserved the sum of all These Costs, all these memories, cumulative, additive, addictive - someone says: stop being so sensitive, leave the telling to others, or keep them in plastic bags, dated, retrievable, in case an antiretroviral antidote is ever needed, a fresh injection when you think you could even cease to care The Cost is always capitalized, for the Cost is called human capital, the invisible financing that permits our existence till all spent, when we’ve run out of drawer space, zipper bags, breaths to be taken away and glass jars to store them, if the mind says no more! then it will be ok, for you are all spent The Cost so great! this a double entendre, for they are the stuff of me, whatever greatnesses I ever possessed within them kept and believed, happily paid for past and present, for the future, will happily pay for it right now, again and again, for the Costs are who I am, till, such time that Costless arrives, eyes closed, nothing left to post, to recall, no coin to give, my purposed all paid, as if all paid could ever cause my weeping to cease Mon May 4 10:48 am
0
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
The Cost (5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping)
The Cost “5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping,” when the inquiry arrives, how long/where from it comes, gave this answer more or less the response accurate more or less the weeping really never ceases I will return to it again, **** poem random when, unreasoned why, wherefore a stumble, a message, months from now, tomorrow, even decades and I’ll remember the precise circumstances for each poem has a Cost, that excises a piece of you, a new cut, freshly salted, an antibiotic of loving may remove the redness, but not the white line, so what you call a scar, I, I call it an etched memory preserved the sum of all These Costs, all these memories, cumulative, additive, addictive - someone says: stop being so sensitive, leave the telling to others, or keep them in plastic bags, dated, retrievable, in case an antiretroviral antidote is ever needed, a fresh injection when you think you could even cease to care The Cost is always capitalized, for the Cost is called human capital, the invisible financing that permits our existence till all spent, when we’ve run out of drawer space, zipper bags, breaths to be taken away and glass jars to store them, if the mind says no more! then it will be ok, for you are all spent The Cost so great! this a double entendre, for they are the stuff of me, whatever greatnesses I ever possessed within them kept and believed, happily paid for past and present, for the future, will happily pay for it right now, again and again, for the Costs are who I am, till, such time that Costless arrives, eyes closed, nothing left to post, to recall, no coin to give, my purposed all paid, as if all paid could ever cause my weeping to cease Mon May 4 10:48 am
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38
Chicken is what they call me, Though not 'cause I flee at a fight. I'm Chicken from birth, it's my family fo'real, That frees me with my flight. Though cumbersome my wings may flap, Not propelling as most birds are able. I can certainly procure a slap To the face of the Strong and Stable. For this Chicken is fed up Of current state black market affairs. That's right this States' colour's corrupt. And **** You if you're thinking 'she's racially unaware'. I mean black like skin that blood no longer supplies, I mean brute black like when the river dries, I mean black like it's the End, when all magic dies. I don't want to be called a pessimist, But I truly cannot deny; The current affairs seen by a realist, Are a 'Big Issue', Strong and Stable's a clear lie! Personally, I've never even seen, nor do I seek, A Strong and Stable Tory. They're usually over 70, or weak and meek, Like an embarrassing aristocrat's public school story. The Tories I've seen Are mostly on the TV screen And even then, Strong and Stable's a far shout. Their best attribute's looking mean And keeping their skin taught in a tight pout. To be honest, this Chicken thinks All that's necessary would be a blimming flap And they'd be scrambling on all fours for their cuff links, Just with one feather's single tap. So they must stop ****** trying to deceive Those unfortunately circumstantial souls, Because they're making them thicker as they thieve All of their lasting retrievable goals! If you are balanced, indifferently Or stuck upon the fence, Listen to the Chickens' squawks carefully: Read up! It's your world too! Let's destroy former pretense! That Politics is an area only for the Privately Schooled Because the majority of us definitely know now, They are false Strong and Stable fodder-food. Who really we should not even allow A say in the rest of Our futures, Because they'll take the rest of what's ours They're programmed-in, suited-booted-Vultures! **** Vultures! Chicken's got Powers. Chicken's gonna remind us of what was Already Ours! Weak and Wobbly. That's the truth of the state of Today, Funny that isn't what the masked Vultures say.
0
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
Chicken
Chicken is what they call me, Though not 'cause I flee at a fight. I'm Chicken from birth, it's my family fo'real, That frees me with my flight. Though cumbersome my wings may flap, Not propelling as most birds are able. I can certainly procure a slap To the face of the Strong and Stable. For this Chicken is fed up Of current state black market affairs. That's right this States' colour's corrupt. And **** You if you're thinking 'she's racially unaware'. I mean black like skin that blood no longer supplies, I mean brute black like when the river dries, I mean black like it's the End, when all magic dies. I don't want to be called a pessimist, But I truly cannot deny; The current affairs seen by a realist, Are a 'Big Issue', Strong and Stable's a clear lie! Personally, I've never even seen, nor do I seek, A Strong and Stable Tory. They're usually over 70, or weak and meek, Like an embarrassing aristocrat's public school story. The Tories I've seen Are mostly on the TV screen And even then, Strong and Stable's a far shout. Their best attribute's looking mean And keeping their skin taught in a tight pout. To be honest, this Chicken thinks All that's necessary would be a blimming flap And they'd be scrambling on all fours for their cuff links, Just with one feather's single tap. So they must stop ****** trying to deceive Those unfortunately circumstantial souls, Because they're making them thicker as they thieve All of their lasting retrievable goals! If you are balanced, indifferently Or stuck upon the fence, Listen to the Chickens' squawks carefully: Read up! It's your world too! Let's destroy former pretense! That Politics is an area only for the Privately Schooled Because the majority of us definitely know now, They are false Strong and Stable fodder-food. Who really we should not even allow A say in the rest of Our futures, Because they'll take the rest of what's ours They're programmed-in, suited-booted-Vultures! **** Vultures! Chicken's got Powers. Chicken's gonna remind us of what was Already Ours! Weak and Wobbly. That's the truth of the state of Today, Funny that isn't what the masked Vultures say.
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