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"riping" poems
sitting in this mass of humanity recalibrating. sorrows unfolding joys riping. easy to judge easy to dismiss. difficult to be compassionate. difficult to see everyone as yourself. the illusion shifting & changing. tears and laughter that is all one can do. ever the duality of nature. ever following natural laws. resisting, going against the flow. only brings struggle and difficulty. surrendering to it all. moving along in the flow. breath comes easy. breath comes deeply. softening a stance. understanding a glance. easing your heart melting your hurt. the sun shines above the pine trees sway in the breeze. all moves along as it is meant to be.
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
recalibration
Individuality Crescens As a riping Moon cheeks Blossom At the Infinite Cosmic Winds Caressing Your Particles Sometimes I see She winks At me reminding Myself of Others Who percieve The same Sensations You're not other than me I have touched the Astronaut's Space Suit My beloved Neverland Was intrigued and Fascinated with The Exhibition And one Sputnik Was a Cute Cat And The Real One Was dangling From The Ceiling Surprisingly Awesome at Dimensions As Children's Antigravital Balloons Are Destined to Take off Sooner or Later These Beautiful Reminders For Artists's First Lessons in Projection Ad Infinitum A Precise Pretty Focus On Flying Objects Restored On the Canvas Of Our Conscience
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
Destined
IT ******* HURTS. IT ALWAYS ******* HURTS. I AM IN THIS ROOM DRY HEAVING BECAUSE IT ******* HURTS. I TOLD YOU I LOVED YOU THEN I ******* LEFT. I AM ALWAYS LEAVING THE PEOPLE I SHOULDN'T. IT ******* HURTS AND I CAN'T BREATHE BECAUSE I CAN HAVE YOU BUT I DON'T ******* WANT YOU. I DON'T WANT YOU TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH THE BIG ******* DISASTER THAT I AM. I WANT MORE FOR YOU THAN I WANT FOR MYSELF. IS THAT LOVE? I ******* LOVE YOU MORE THAN I WILL EVER LOVE MYSELF AND IT ******* HURTS. I AM FULL OF FEELINGS THAT I CAN'T ******* GET OUT. I KEEP ON REPLAYING OUR LAST WORDS TO ONE ANOTHER LIKE A ******* LOVE SONG IN MY HEAD. WE WERE NOT A ******* LOVE SONG AND WE WERE NOT ART AND WE WERE NOT BEAUTIFUL. WHAT WERE WE? WE WERE A ******* CATASTROPHE. WE WERE TRAGEDY. IT ******* HURT WHEN WE COLLIDED. I COLLAPSE IN AGONY BECAUSE THE THOUGHT OF YOU ******* HURTS. I FEEL MY BODY CRUMBLING FROM THE GRIEF LIKE A SOGGY CARD BOARD BOX LEFT IN THE RAIN. IT ******* HURTS SEEING YOUR SMILE SHATTER ON EVERY FLOOR, WALL, DOOR, WINDOW, AND MIRROR IN MY MIND. I AM RIPING MY SKIN TO SHREDS AND WRECKING THIS ROOM BUT THE THING THAT ******* HURTS IS YOU. IT ******* HURT BEFORE WE CRASHED INTO EACH OTHER. IT ******* HURT WHEN WE FELL IN LOVE. AND IT ******* HURTS NOW THAT YOU'RE GONE. It hurts. It will always ******* hurt.
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
CATASTROPHE
Enveloping darkness clusters around me, leaving me sightless, soundless - My chest wishes to burst open for the only thing left is the slow clutch of my grieving hand riping away the dead flesh that surrounds my fleeing heart and crushes my hollow bones so darkness can eat away the warmth that slowly pumps away - fading into a steady buzz, leaving me dead... I'm gone.
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Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Anguish
Your soul has changed with years riping as a pint of a dark foamed ale perhaps you love yourself More now then ever did you communicate with girls back then Universal Primal Shame Unwanted Foolishness I'm sorry I didn't saw this Coming Handsome Confident Male Before Mind Control Takes fibers over our fible unsecure emotions Yesterday Years After This Club Party We Are Both Old souls Encountering Young Nights Opening our Hearts With tongues In our caves Excalibur Was your Chest As a Chess Position pressed near my being still enemies Opening of our . . . . . Occured As An AsanA Surprise Entrance for me a speck of recognition your serene poetic dark locks laser beam look Then your momentary deliberate act to merge tighter with my body rubbing against my cat bra Exit for you
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
At heart's range ~ 5 cm
She feels the sweat,the heavyness of a body against hers, the weight holding her down, she wakens from watever was in the cloth that was put over her nose and realizes that a man is on top of her a man is doing this to her, he is riping at her clothes, tearing at everything she has, gettin inside and pushing and pushing himself all the way, she tries to cry out and fight but it is no use, she panics and everything clicks, she is getting ***** some man is in her own home ****** her, he never looks at her never once looks down, he keeps griping her tighter and tighter as he releases everything, she feels the sweat of his brow hit her check, or maybe its just her tears, He whisper"don't say a word, or i'll just do it again, but even if you do noone will believe you". He leaves her alone in her bedroom, noone herd her or him, her family was home but nothing, she gets a shower and wonders at 13 and in her own home. How? Why?
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC
She's just 13
Choose. You must pick. Which life to save. You....................................or......................................Her My mind quakes before these words. In an internal struggle, To choose which to keep. You....................................or......................................Her My arms merciless reach for a word. Right stretches for You. Left stretches for Her. You....................................or......................................Her My body and spirit, Cannot withstand the onslaught. I must choose. You....................................or......................................Her The abyss for me. The abyss for her. The abyss for us.
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Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 7:30 PM UTC
Riping
The guitar sounds off the mic Open air outside , a quiet room awaits Warm breeze silently enters And she stands there Mesmerized by him For the music produces love the vibrations of strings touch my soul like a a million duffel bags o where Im I going with this rhyme I am inspired by my love , by my hate , or by anything this thought creates To touch flat bottom or fly away in space I am as calm as the still winter sky From my smoke you can always tell god is my giving tale. I can describe one particular event with this man where we went into space And it sounded like neil young riping away my soul, Every single note a little further away, pure ecstasy flyes me away uncotrolable movement of the soul Dance of the gods Of pure feeling Of love. Music , the love our soul creates , the true voice of the soul Where on does not find the meaning , but the feeling Love it takes me away.”
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Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
TO MUSIC
In my heart l felt ur throbs like water drop in the winter so sober the breeze blew from inside and you held me in between linger and staying forever bcus its riping you apart but how love wrapped you up in sudden warms is amazing like sunlight In my heart you died into empty echoes but love made this clarion call that waked up ur spirit again
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
A Clarion Call
Sometimes saying yes is easier than saying no and because of that, I can’t call myself a victim. I didn’t technically say yes, but I technically didn’t say no. What happened was that he leaned into me closely and he whispered in my ear what he had been planning to do to me. The ways that he had dreamed of riping apart my body limb by limb. How he would take his time on each and every inch of my body until I was unable to move and how it would be so intense my body would still shake for hours afterwards. To him, it sounded like a fantasy. To me, it sounded like a massacre. My heart started to race and my blood grew cold. My veins filled with the blasting sound of sirens that couldn’t seem to make it past the concrete that had filled my throat. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t say anything. I doubted that my body would be left shaking because my body froze so quickly that I couldn’t move any part of it at all. He began to tear my clothes as though it was Christmas and my body was the present under the tree that he had been waiting months to get his hands on. Maybe I should have felt like a present, maybe it should have made me feel wanted. But I didn’t feel wanted and I didn’t want to be a present. I wanted to be coal. I wanted to be tossed aside and thrown out I didn’t realize it would only be a matter of time before that happened too. I won’t go into depth about how precisely he carried out every detail of his plan. I won’t describe too thoroughly how his hands felt like sandpaper as he threw me around the room and how the saliva coming off of his tongue felt like acid burning my body with each and every taste that he took of me. I won’t recount how many bite marks and bruises were left on my body the same way that skid marks are left on a road when somebody is trying to escape the scene of a crime too quickly. What I will tell you though is that only real sandpaper was strong enough to get the feeling of his hands off of my body. I’ll tell you that I can’t even close my eyes without seeing his lure down at me with a look that’s ignited by fires of pure desire and a hunger for stripping away last traces of innocence. I’ll tell you that my clothes from that day were torn into shreds smaller than the pieces of shattered glass that fell to the floor as I broke every mirror inside of my house so that I wouldn’t have to look at myself again and feel the disgust of that day. Pure, unfiltered, deathly disgust. Enough to cause the acid in my stomach to rise into my mouth as I lean over toilet seats and sit on the shower floor with water so hot beating down on me as I pray that it melts the skin right off of my bones. Disgust. Disgust that I was over there. Disgust that I couldn’t see this coming. Disgust that I had put myself in this position. Disgust that my body froze instead of deciding to fight. I froze. I was frozen. To call myself a victim just doesn’t seem fair. With a body full of bricks and a throat filled with concrete I was frozen, And I couldn’t say no.
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Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
Frozen.
Sometimes saying yes is easier than saying no and because of that, I can’t call myself a victim. I didn’t technically say yes, but I technically didn’t say no. What happened was that he leaned into me closely and he whispered in my ear what he had been planning to do to me. The ways that he had dreamed of riping apart my body limb by limb. How he would take his time on each and every inch of my body until I was unable to move and how it would be so intense my body would still shake for hours afterwards. To him, it sounded like a fantasy. To me, it sounded like a massacre. My heart started to race and my blood grew cold. My veins filled with the blasting sound of sirens that couldn’t seem to make it past the concrete that had filled my throat. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t say anything. I doubted that my body would be left shaking because my body froze so quickly that I couldn’t move any part of it at all. He began to tear my clothes as though it was Christmas and my body was the present under the tree that he had been waiting months to get his hands on. Maybe I should have felt like a present, maybe it should have made me feel wanted. But I didn’t feel wanted and I didn’t want to be a present. I wanted to be coal. I wanted to be tossed aside and thrown out I didn’t realize it would only be a matter of time before that happened too. I won’t go into depth about how precisely he carried out every detail of his plan. I won’t describe too thoroughly how his hands felt like sandpaper as he threw me around the room and how the saliva coming off of his tongue felt like acid burning my body with each and every taste that he took of me. I won’t recount how many bite marks and bruises were left on my body the same way that skid marks are left on a road when somebody is trying to escape the scene of a crime too quickly. What I will tell you though is that only real sandpaper was strong enough to get the feeling of his hands off of my body. I’ll tell you that I can’t even close my eyes without seeing his lure down at me with a look that’s ignited by fires of pure desire and a hunger for stripping away last traces of innocence. I’ll tell you that my clothes from that day were torn into shreds smaller than the pieces of shattered glass that fell to the floor as I broke every mirror inside of my house so that I wouldn’t have to look at myself again and feel the disgust of that day. Pure, unfiltered, deathly disgust. Enough to cause the acid in my stomach to rise into my mouth as I lean over toilet seats and sit on the shower floor with water so hot beating down on me as I pray that it melts the skin right off of my bones. Disgust. Disgust that I was over there. Disgust that I couldn’t see this coming. Disgust that I had put myself in this position. Disgust that my body froze instead of deciding to fight. I froze. I was frozen. To call myself a victim just doesn’t seem fair. With a body full of bricks and a throat filled with concrete I was frozen, And I couldn’t say no.
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