"samuel" poems
Some People Are ... EVIL ... !!!
Some People Are ... Nice ...
Some People Believe ...
In The Lies They Contrive ...
Black People ... White People ...
Yes ALL TYPES of People ... !!!
Don't Think You're EXEMPT Most People Tell Lies ... !!!
Some People Want TRUTH These People Are Wise ...
These Are The People Who Use Their ... 3rd Eye ...
I'm Sick of These People Whose Lives Are Contrived ...
Like Poets Who Act Like Their Words Breed Insight ...
MAN These Are The People Who Lead A ... FAKE Life ... !!!
Because They Can't Deal With ... What's REALLY INSIDE ...
INSIDE of Their Minds ... INSIDE of Their Hearts ...
See These Are The People Who Fall At The Start ... !!!!!!!!
They STAND By Their PRIDE ...
But Pride We All Know Comes Before A FALL ... !!!
How Many of You Folks Are Playing That Role ... !???!
Let's Go Toe To Toe And See What You Know ...
Because I GUARANTEE ... You'll Be A NO SHOW ... !!!
See They ... Like To Deride ...
Their Comments Are Snide ... !!!
MAN These Are The People I CANNOT ABIDE ... !!!!!!!!
They TALK A Good Game But Have NO **** SHAME ... !!!!!
Because These Are The People Who DON'T Deal With Pain ...
They Pass YOU The Rope ...
And Then Say ... " TAKE THE STRAIN " ... !!!
See These Are The People Who Need Their Blood DRAINED ... !!!
They ARE The Bloodsuckers Who STEAL From The Sane ... !!!
They TALK About TRUTH But Soon HIT The Roof ... !!!
When Truth Is Thrown At Them They're QUICK To ABUSE ... !!!
"I'll issue court action, I want a Retraction !" ...
Well Here Is My View ...
These People Are FOOLS ....
Who've Got Some Screws LOOSE !!!!!
Deal With YOUR ISSUES I've Been In Courtrooms ...
Don't EVER ASSUME I'm An IGNORANT **** ... !!!!!!
This ISN'T ... Pulp Fiction ... !!!
Don't Think I'm ... The Shepherd ...
I'm NOT Samuel Jackson I'm Ready For Action ... !!!
You Will Be Collapsing When I Start Reacting ... !!!
Don't EVER Presume I'm Into ... Play Acting ... !!!
I'll Leave That To You And Your Idiot Crew ... !!!
Cos' These Are The People Who Don't Give You Clues ...
Cos These Are The People Who Simply Aren't TRUE ... !!!
They Like Their Doors OPEN ...
So They Can Walk Through ...
MAN These Are The People ...
Who Walk In ... DEAD SHOES ... !!!
Now I'm NOT Making Threats ... !!!
But On THIS ... You Can Bet ... !!!
Messing With Me ...
Means You're Messing With DEATH ... !!!
Cos' I'm Ready And Willing To Take Your LAST Breath ...
Cos' People Like You Are ... Humanity's DREGS ... !!!!!
But Enough About THEM ... Society's Phlegm ... !!!!!!!!!!!!
Some People ARE NICE These People I Like ... !!!
Cos' Some of These People Do Use The Mic RIGHT ... !!!!!
They Talk About Things That Affect Peoples' Lives ...
Without EVER Thinking Their Wordplay ... DELIGHTS ...
These People Are Humble And SHUN Foolish Pride ... !!!
Cos' These Are The People ... Who Look DEEP INSIDE ...
INSIDE of THEMSELVES And Find Love of The SELF ...
Cos' Love of The Self Can Preserve Mental Health ...
And Help You To Deal With ... DUD Cards You Get Dealt ... !!!!!
These Words Are ........ HEARTFELT ........ !!!
Good People DO HELP ...
WITHOUT EVER Thinking of Helping THEMSELVES ... !!!
Good People Are VITAL For Human Survival ... !!!!
This Is Now The Reason I Do These Recitals ...
I'm Trying To Put .....
Something GOOD In The CYCLE ... !!!
The ... Cycle of Life .....
That Has MANY Good People ... !!!
But TOO MANY People Are Now Doing EVIL ... !!!!!!
Which Is Why I'm Relating My Views About ...........
......... " People " .........
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Flames and Hobbies must not report your Time
As a Rebel-in-Arms beyond your Due
Yet across the Beach is a Stern Incline
Which must Inspire a Better You
Yes I know, my Friend: As his own Cousin
Your Image dulls like an Owl to a Mouse
But the Mouse can swim. So in your Giving
Behind this Chantry is a Better House
I forgive your Hate to an Elder Age
Since he killed the Fancy you so preserve
He is that Open; And preaches the Sage
Reminding the Fame you also Deserve.
Now, after all that said: Which do you know
The Owl that Betrays or the Mouse that Grows?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
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QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
3:38 AM (56 minutes ago)
to Daniel
SOAR OWNERSHIP
/ UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED PILGRIMS/
By the creditor at cyprus and on other grounds:
The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great ones of the machinery citation / Worth pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era: Closet by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs / ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles: Moon ship's amnesty crest reckon 'flaskbone SpurZebra...' Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation Outpouring / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego the-Outward acclimation : Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions cuss ion syn chronicutensils 'asylum systems beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries hijack travels history/Wherein of plant hours ' spicily spoke ***** Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies 'ago-maximize promptly alacrity; Exhibition the underrating besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune slaughter
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
“Angelica arguta”,
He shows her his wildflowers
“Angelica Susannah”, he says.
And prodded further by her
His heart.
Lingers briefly with the night;
Her affection has power,
But not enough
To keep him
From marching off to fight.
Tristan, son of One Stab,
Brings wildness from the mountains.
Lovely woman from the East,
Fascinated by her,
His passion.
Revels in her bridal bower,
And stops her
Loving any other.
Alfred, eldest son of his father,
Full of rectitude and romance.
Angelica abandoned,
Adrift between the mountains
Becalmed far from the sea.
He takes advantage,
Snatches her soul with riches,
But never captures
Her longing heart.
Years pass and one son gone,
The other lost and mad.
Year of the red grass and
Happiness found
Is felt too soon.
Tristan loves young Isabel,
But Angelica is his doom.
Yet only he survives
The waves that lash her shore,
“Like water in the ice,
She breaks them.”
And in the Spring,
Is gone once more.
Angelica Susannah is buried
Above the box canyon in the meadow
Among the many dead.
Near Samuel’s heart,
The executed Isabel,
And others who follow soon.
Until only Tristan remains,
Left to hunt his nemesis,
The bear inside him.
And dream of one wife lost,
And a lover left behind:
Angelica Susannah
Beside whom he should lie.
He is slain by the bear in Sixty-three,
After forty years of solitude.
And laid to rest in the plot
Between two women he loved,
Isabel, his ingenuous wife
And Susannah, his tragic love.
Do their spirits meet at last
And wander the golden fields,
Or ride out to bathe in the hot springs,
Under the moon of the falling leaves?
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 10:37 AM UTC
2018
Does it necessarily called sad even when there's no tears?
Does it necessarily called scar even when there's no mark?
Does it necessarily called pain, even when it doesn't show?
Heart.
Break.
Heartbreak.
I am used to hearing this word on a daily basis.
Maybe a little too often, but my point here is, everyone knows someone 'utters' that they are in a heartbreak once in a while.
So, what is heartbreak to you?
"When someone can't keep their promises while they have the chance to." —Alessandra A.
"Uncertainty." —Samuel Wijaya
"Friends who leave." —Vivian Loo
"Being a disappointment." —Ryon Regasa
"When the butterflies are no longer there." —Calvina Izumi
"Seeing him smile, but I'm not the reason." —Anonymous
"When someone you love, has another name in his/her heart." —Evadne Richard
"When an effort to love can't be seen anymore because it is sealed shut by a mistake." —David Halim
"When you finally meet someone you love sincerely and somehow they start distancing themselves, and you don't even talk to them anymore and you don't even know why."—Natasha
These are some opinions from my friends that probably represent some/most of your thoughts about a heartbreak, at least describe what comes first to your mind after hearing that word.
And those opinions also described mine, and mostly represent some of the heartbreak(s) that had occured in my life.
Now,
concluding all the opinions above
How would I myself define what heartbreak is?
I would define it as an invisible yet irresistible pain.
Headache is a type of pain.
And heartbreak is also a type of pain.
But we all know that both of them are completely different.
When you're having a headache, you know exactly where it hurts.
But when you're having a heartbreak, it just hurts.
You don't know exactly where the pain came from,
even when some referred to their chest ('cause it's where their heart is) or anywhere else, it's actually just the side effect of having a heartbreak itself.
Just enough explanation to state that heartbreak is like a nowhere and everywhere type of pain.
You can't see and you can't know where it hurts, but it's real. As if it was invisible as it is uncertain.
Just because you can't really point out where it hurts, doesn't mean it's not there.
And another thing about heartbreak is, you can't resist it. No matter how hard you try.
There is no painkiller for your heartbreak, and even if you use something as a pain killer (such as alcohol?), it doesn't necessarily works as one.
It doesn't make the pain go away, it just distracts you from what you're feeling, temporarily.
It shifts your attention and feelings into something less noteworthy for a moment, and then the next day the pain is still going to be there.
You can try to resist it, but only time that can make all of that fades.
And even when it fades, it doesn't go away.
It never will.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
The root
Of ambition
Is ambivalent
There's no “one cause”
No one causes
A man
To make life decisions
In a day
It takes
Much more
For
A man to be successful
And real
With his inner-self
Accepting
The cards dealt
With the stamina
To play through
Exercising his will
With the feel
Lingering in every pore
Unsure
Of obstacles ahead
Headstrong
Through barricades
Bearing the bruises
Trampling
Over your own
Feet
Defeat
Seen in battle
But the war’s on
And the war zone
Isn’t limited
To a few
Years
Like ages 19-22
Whose to do
Worse
Who has more
Money
CARS
Clothes
And hoes
And whose vision
Is so small
To tack them
with success
All in all
And attack those
Who lack the
Wills
To move forward
And ignorantly
Attach it
With a phenomena
Of
Your unknowing
Root of ambition
Can spread
Like weeds
And weeds
Can **** ambition
Or spread
Like seeds
How many men
Dive
Head first under the influence
Or rise above
High
From the same drug
Barack Obama
Michael Phelps
William Shakespeare
Bill Clinton
Lebron James
Pablo Picasso
The Beatles
Jay-Z
Bob Marley
Conan O’Brien
Dr Francis Crick. (Nobel Prize Winner)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Salvador Dali
Victor Hugo
Kareem Abdul-Jabar
Snoop Dogg
Dr. Dre
Stephen King
Just to name a few
Maybe
Just maybe
It has nothing to do
With success
Or you.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
Said The Raven
To The Raven
Which Raven are you?
I said The Raven
Am The Raven
Of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
And I said The Raven
Am The Raven
Of Edgar Allan Poe.
Apparently there's a rave on -
Shall we go?
Yes - let us go then you and I
As the evening is spread out
Against the sky.
But not like a patient
Etherised upon a table.
Let us like Thunderbirds
Not gentle go into this dark night.
So dressed in sable
White gloves
And whistles
They went on their way -
Not looking forward
To conversations about
Michelangelo at all.
For as we all know
Old age should rave and burn
At close of day.
And not just fizzle out.
More big shout...........................................
And rave until you fall.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
The speaker in this case
is a middle-aged witch, me-
tangled on my two great arms,
my face in a book
and my mouth wide,
ready to tell you a story or two.
I have come to remind you,
all of you:
Alice, Samuel, Kurt, Eleanor,
Jane, Brian, Maryel,
all of you draw near.
Alice,
at fifty-six do you remember?
Do you remember when you
were read to as a child?
Samuel,
at twenty-two have you forgotten?
Forgotten the ten P.M. dreams
where the wicked king
went up in smoke?
Are you comatose?
Are you undersea?
Attention,
my dears,
let me present to you this boy.
He is sixteen and he wants some answers.
He is each of us.
I mean you.
I mean me.
It is not enough to read Hesse
and drink clam chowder
we must have the answers.
The boy has found a gold key
and he is looking for what it will open.
This boy!
Upon finding a string
he would look for a harp.
Therefore he holds the key tightly.
Its secrets whimper
like a dog in heat.
He turns the key.
Presto!
It opens this book of odd tales
which transform the Brothers Grimm.
Transform?
As if an enlarged paper clip
could be a piece of sculpture.
(And it could.)
4k
Call me the greatest adventure of Indiana Jones.
Call me the Graeters of tasty ice cream cones.
Call me the Ed Rosenthal of relaxing stones.
Call me the Natasha Trethewey of meaningful poems.
Call me the Pauly Shore of Bio-Domes.
Call me the Jack Hannah of Columbus Zoos.
Call me the Martha Stewart of delicious stews.
Call me the Bob Ross of independent creations.
Call me the Dr. Phil of mending relations.
Call me the Albert Einstein of mathematical equations.
Call me the Captain Kirk of Space exploration.
Call me the William Shatner of monotone greatness.
Call me the Jim Morrison of open doors.
Call me the Mr. Clean of shiny floors.
Call me the Hugh Hefner of stupid ******
Call me the Bob Dylan of traveling trains.
Call me the Samuel L. Jackson of snakes and planes.
Call me the Arm & Hammer of tough stains.
Call me the Blade of a vampire.
Call me the Froto Baggins of the Shire.
Call me the Firestone of a pumped tire.
Call me a Christ of ignited passion.
Call me a Lucifer of trendy fashion.
Call me a Shiva of shattered illusions.
Call me a Buddha of peaceful institutions.
Call me the Ron Jeremy of KY Jelly.
Call me the Emeril Legassi of food for the belly.
Call me the Tupac Shakur of spitting ****
Call me the Eminem of full sentences.
Call me the Smoky the Bear of a campfire.
Call me the Jim Carry of Liar Liar.
Call me the That Guy of desire.
You can even call me an *******
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
Coffee and tea at the cafe of Christ
The Bible for breakfast
Slurping stories from ***** and Samuel
To Ezekial and Ezra.
Start your day the holy way with Christ chex.
Ahh. The breakfast of champions
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
Haitian Divorce
in the warmth of the tropical sun
sipping zombies by the Caribbean Sea
Samuel and Daisy fell in love
dancing the merengue
they fell into each others arms
an affair to remember for all time
they decided to get married
there just wasn't any other way
the bliss lasted for many weeks
the kisses grew sweeter it seemed
but out of the blue a comment was made
and the sniping got heavier each day
he would shout she would bite
it went on like this every night
until the kisses completely stopped
they had nothing more to say
it was so much more than thought
they decided to end it well
a little trip to the islands once more
hurry now no more delay
they raised their glasses one last time
there would be no remorse
staring out at the churning sea
they celebrated their Haitian Divorce
Gomer Lepoet...
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
shapeshifter, son drunk
& changing skins.
he digs up skeletons of a spanish battalion
buried
by tigers on the garden key.
suncresent
spray of blood & oranges.
new-fangled sailors once soaked
in madness.
now just starvation.
the viking speaks:
in limericks of new world poise.
his antler woven mask,
set nicely upon the shore.
seod, turtle lord
of space & time, appears only once
every lunar eclipse. bound by treatise
to the jellyfish triumvirate.
his acolyte,
bolivar t. shagnasty,
wanders the mainland in search of water
or meat of trees.
kindness
of men turns to dust & belly worms.
forgotten, the plants mutate
into root-rich empires
of fish & figurine.
million year armistice.
dr. samuel mudd,
shackled years to tide-slab &
fort jefferson. he
purifies the island of its yellow
shivering death.
hospital key.
fastforward hundred plus years
through mudd lifeline:
battle weary sneakers,
spokes sung by strum of card, the bmx
stridden boy & his
teenage mutant ninja turtle mask.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
The Isle of Print
What a place it can take you anyplace you can meet anyone I met Sandra Locke when she wrote about
Her relationship then her break up with Clint she told about as a child how she sold pop bottles at a
General store that was one that took me back but even more exciting was where she was at a place
Called Shelbyville Tennessee I know it firsthand one reason it is seventy miles from Nashville and is the
Tennessee walking horse capital and all so my wife was born and raised there until she was six we would
Take trips there quiet often until two trips we carried her parents to the family cemetery on horse
Mountain we have my wife’s brother fighting Leukemia he said thats where he wants to be buried but for
Now God’s mercy is preventing that I met a guy and I’m sure you have met him many times also his
Name is Samuel Clemens he got a little more famous name when he had one of his many jobs as a Mississippi
River boat captain they called him just like when they measured the rivers depth mark twain he was a
News paper editor in Calaveras County he brought a simple frog leaping contest national notoriety for
Ever after known as the Calaveras bull frog jumping contest I bought three acres for retirement
Unfortunately I made like a bull frog and jumped off the property I drove a truck several times into
Hannibal Missouri you got a quick leap in your heart and head as you thought about the great river
Running by and all of the characters Twain created two losses are recorded there of course twain met
A fiery personage that was even greater than him a space traveler with a glory all together wondrous went by
The name of Haley the other less known but my heart slows when I think of her eight years old blond
Blue eyed her father’s and mother’s pride and joy he was a pastor in northern Illinois she lays in her
Sacred rest in Hannibal until that great waking up day as time goes on I get less and less patient if it
Weren’t for so many precious ones in danger I would be tempted to pray come Lord Jesus. Well not done
By any means just going to stop for now plan on going and doing some hard thinking
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
You didn't say Hi
You didn't ask me
If I am well
Why would you care anyways
In your larger than life - Life
that you're living in the Big Apple
Nope.
You just wanted to tell me
that you were nominated for an Emmy
how blessed I am know know someone
who was nominated for an Emmy
I congratulated you
in the nicest way I could
and told you about the boring things
I've been up to
and you didn't respond
why should you
you are an Emmy nominee
living in NYC
and I am just Kimmie
who lives in Rhode Island
and has a normal 9-5 job
But you know what
I will never apologize for
who I am
and what I've done
no matter how small or
insignificant they seem to you
I will always remember you
as the gothic boy from high school
you were weird and I liked you
you made me laugh
and I never judged you
What right do you have
to judge me now
Well congratulations
You've done it
You've proven that
you're better than
the rest of us
You have done amazing things
Yes, you are going to have
the most amazing career
and I am genuinely happy for you
and you should be proud
but maybe
just maybe
stop ************ to yourself
Even though my life
might seem small to yours
in comparison
I am very happy
I love the simplicity of my life
and I would never in a million years
trade it for yours
So you live your BIG life Alex
or do people call you Samuel now?
And I will live my simple one
Have fun at the Emmy's next year
I'll probably be playing my Xbox
because let's face it...watching the Emmy's
is pretty boring...
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
I read the book of Samuel
I read the story of the Israelites
Of how they rejected God
“We want a king!” they demanded
“We want to be like other nations”
Rejecting God’s kingship.
The same God who brought them up
Out of the ******* of Pharaoh
Out of slavery in Egypt
The same God who gave them victories
Over many nations and wars
The same God who had fed them
For forty years in the wilderness
Same God who had proved
Beyond reasonable doubt
That He is the King of kings
A Lord above all lords
They chose to downgrade!
I was swept away in a mind journey
As I thought of how it must have felt
To be rejected by your own children
Repudiated by your beloved
Disowned by the very people you love.
My heart bled!
The heartbreak was unimaginable
The pain was excruciating
As my mind pointed fingers of accusation
I couldn’t find befitting words
*“Foolish Israelites!”
“Unrepentant idiots!”
“Stubborn generation!”*
And as my mind went awry
Heaping insults on God’s people
Raining accusations on them
Judging an imperfect people as myself…
His still small voice whispered
***“You are all the same”
“You have done worse”***
Then it struck me
Like a lightening of a million volts
I am the Israelites
I am the very people of God
I am the same ones I condemn
I have betrayed God repeatedly
I have chosen sin above my maker
My iniquities know no bounds
I have trivialized His blood
I have made a mess of the cross.
*I am the “foolish Israelites!”
I am the “unrepentant idiots!”
I am the “stubborn generation!”*
My heart melted into tears
Shame covered me like a cloud
My head was bowed in ignominy.
Unable to speak or move
I lay there, weeping at my wickedness
No words were spoken
But I felt His arms embrace me
In acknowledgement of my repentance
I never deserved it
But He loved me nonetheless.
I pointed one finger at them
But three pointed back at me!
© Raphael Uzor
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen.
One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis.
As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away.
But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now.
Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it.
The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat.
My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task.
You can make history or you will be vilified by it.
To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn.
The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty.
Thank you
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
Jenifer Garner looked every inch the mom in control as she and estranged husband Ben Affleck picked up their daughters from karate class.
The actress, 43, strode out ahead clutching her cell phone in one hand and car keys in her other as the Argo star, also 43, followed behind with Violet, nine, and Seraphina, six, and carrying a canvas shopping bag.
Garner also had her wedding ring back on, but on the middle finger of her left hand and not the ring finger.
Affleck, though, seems to have ditched his wedding ring altogether.
He hasn't been seen with it on for a couple of weeks at least, although when they first split the pair had made it known they'd still keep the gold bands on around their kids.
Rumors had started to swirl of a possible reconciliation between the two after they were seen leaving couples counseling together in Sana Monica on September 4.
But sources close to them moved quickly to quash any suggestion they might get back together, saying they were simply seeking professional help to guide them through the changes that divorce brings.
Affleck was a doting dad on Friday as he smilingly shepherded his daughters to the car as they snacked on apples.
The Good Will Hunting actor was dressed casually in an olive green t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers.
Seraphina wore a pretty light blue pinafore dress with a matching hairband and her favorite purple and pink Nike trainers.
Violet wore an all black workout ensemble with turquoise athletic shoes.
Not with them was the girls' younger brother Samuel, who's three.
The estranged couple are back in LA after Garner spent most of the summer filming Miracles From Heaven in Atlanta, Georgia, and Affleck was reprising his role as Batman for Suicide Squad in Toronoto, Canada.
With those projects in the can, it means they can focus more time on caring for their children as their divorce moves forward.
Affleck is also prepping his next project Live By Night, a Prohibition-era drama that he's written and plans to star in and direct.
The film based on the novel by Denis Lehane and set in Boston is scheduled to start filming in November.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Desktop In The Charismatic
THEOLOGIAN ESSENCE <[email protected]>
BONE STIRS ....'
ASSEMBLIONAIRE BEYOND MAGICIAN WOLVES
INVISIBLE GRAND OUTPOURING AMNESTY SURROUNDS....'
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
SURETICE TONGUE
Email: [email protected]
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Desktop In The Charismatic
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
11/9/17
to hydee1982
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
Samuel-David O. Armstrong
Email: [email protected]
+2348131914240
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
Took 287 South
to a Borders
Goin Outta
Biz Sale.
Books may be
anachronisms,
relics from
yesterdays
analog age,
but literacy's
bankruptcy
does have
advantages.
Take an
additional
30% off on
any orphans
pleading
release from
the discount
racks.
Snooping down
the literature isle
Samuel Beckett's
somber face
arrested my
roving
eyeballs.
A stern stare
printed across
5 spines of
his shrink
wrapped
oeuvre
commanded
my arm to rise
to liberate the
face from the
dismal shelf.
In mid flight
my reach
was hijacked
by a Kris
Kringley red
snow flaked
trim tome
standing
open face
next to
earnest
Beckett.
It was "The
Christmas
Sweater"
by NYT
Best Selling
Author, Glenn
Beck.
Clasping at Beck's
book, it inflicted
a nasty paper cut
to my ring finger.
My mind recoiled,
thinking, "serves
you right. Like
Martha, I shoulda
chosen the better
thing."
I'll never
make that mistake
again.
Borders Books
Riverdale
2/20/11
jbm
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 3:50 PM UTC
Some of you go so far as to disclaim any ability to find you, but I've got you.
(sonnet #MMDCCXCV)
Dare claim your writing does not breathe a strain
Of your dear essence: to be fooled. Thereby
Petrarca's soul distills its fervour aye;
And Wyatt cool good sense; while Surrey feign
With mildest touch and Spenser's pure refrain,
Sweet Shakespeare beauing hearts, dare cry
Amain. From Milton's kingly strength's reply
To Wordsworth's cold hauteur, yea come again?
Twas Samuel Taylor Coleridge roused me
To think afresh, his lively fancy through
Each line with his impress. From Shelley's plea
To Keats' indulgence, Missus Browning's blue
Yet mystic charm, don't think all cannot see.
You don't know me? But ah, I do know you.
31Aug13b
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
*Walter, I just want to sit on my *** and **** and think about Dante.*
—Samuel Beckett
All this fractures the Wolf. The ancient leaves
amid the ancient woods, wind riffling wind
in eddies she can see but she can’t hear,
the braying of a fatted calf which she
could eat, if she could hear thy call, O Wolf.
The tympani pretend to be a thunder roll,
the crashing cymbals mean to simulate
the distant lightning, all the strings—cello,
base, violin and viola—play the
pizzicato of rain commencing…
The Wolf sits to watch—what?—the floodlights fill
the stadium? the baton poised? the crowd
about to have their daily dose of not
quite silence served up yet again? She hates
that they have come to watch a prophecy.
It’s raining full blast now, the Wolf’s exchange
for music, how things balance out, how rain
fornicates in the forest, with its pools
and puddles, how it tenders lakes and rivers
and shadows… It can’t be! Ahead she sees him.
She sees Dante, the poet of the prophecy,
the one she has to drown. It’s why she’s deaf.
She will not hear him wail. **** him so he will rot
in hell before the other poet comes. **** him
and spare the world another poem about
another world. The rain and music grow
so dense around her soul. She is so quick,
too quick for him to flee. She drags him still
alive, drags him to the lake of his heart.
Sink and die. In Paradise only bubbles rise.
The tympani pretend to be a thunder roll,
the crashing cymbals mean to simulate
the distant lightning, all the strings—cello,
base, violin, viola—play it soft,
so soft, as if the rain is about to start…
The Wolf and I walk the slopes of hell.
When Farinata and Cavalcante
rise up to ask her, ‘Who were thy ancestors?’
and ‘Where Is ***** she howls. O Wolf.
O Tuscan. She howls.
Aug 25, 2010
Aug 25, 2010 at 5:51 PM UTC
Ninth grade, thirteen, I ride my bicycle to school
Headphones ******* up my hearing. Mr. Fiasco's The Cool
Irony I couldn't kick push, because I'd probably fall
And if I crack my head open i'd have no one to call
My mama works two jobs, pops works out of state
Band practice after school, my house'll be empty till late
So my backpack packed with textbooks, a gameboy, and some sheet music
Three broken pencils, it's heavy i'm used to it
I wasn't **** back then
truly not much has changed
I went to Samuel from sam
acceptance of myself in my name
Acceptance of my mistakes, and the release of the shame
And realized when you a genius they label you lame
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
Through thickest glooms look back, immortal shade,
On that confusion which thy death has made:
Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see
A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee.
Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead,
And rends the graceful tresses from her head,
Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest
Sigh follows sigh deep heaving from her breast.
Too quickly fled, ah! whither art thou gone?
Ah! lost for ever to thy wife and son!
The hapless child, thine only hope and heir,
Clings round his mother’s neck, and weeps his sorrows there.
The loss of thee on Tyler’s soul returns,
And Boston for her dear physician mourns.
When sickness call’d for Marshall’s healing hand,
With what compassion did his soul expand?
In him we found the father and the friend:
In life how lov’d! how honour’d in his end!
And must not then our AEsculapius stay
To bring his ling’ring infant into day?
The babe unborn in the dark womb is tost,
And seems in anguish for its father lost.
Gone is Apollo from his house of earth,
But leaves the sweet memorials of his worth:
The common parent, whom we all deplore,
From yonder world unseen must come no more,
Yet ’midst our woes immortal hopes attend
The spouse, the sire, the universal friend.
1.8k
Thunder rolled deeply on the morning as the baby boy arrived,
his father typically absent his mother she wasn't surprised.
Early days were troublesome for a single mother to provide
a home, somewhere that was safe and retain some dignity and pride.
The child grew in hardship, in his mother's eyes he saw inner pain,
he often heard his mother weeping and hang her head in shame.
They survived, and into an average youth he learned and he grew,
not so different to others because, his dad, he never knew.
Early teens, he began leaving his concerned mother home alone,
with bravado hanging around places, with kids he didn't know,
from their dark influences, tricks he learnt well, in guile he was trained,
powerless to change his ways, his mother hangs her head in shame.
Attitudes hardened, he became devious, now almost a man,
so involved he became leader of his own pointless, wilful gang.
One night attempting thievery from a store, they almost were caught,
it's not their manor, they can't avoid the local gang, so they fought,
midst fists - kicks - shouts most ran, but he was pinned against an alley wall
scared, choking, grabbed a bottle from a bin and made that bottle fall
mindlessly, again - again, smashing down on his opponent's head,
fleeing the from the scene, doesn't know the man on the ground is, dead.
his gang has gone, his escape is now blocked by shadows of a group
open arms he walked toward them he's unsure of what he should do
he's encircled, the streetlight reflects each drawn blades dull deadly flame,
and later that night, his mother hangs her head in grief and shame
Michael C Crowder
Hangs Her Head In Shame (rewrite of my 1978 song Samuel)
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 7:48 AM UTC