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"sandman" poems
Sandman comes 'n starts t' raise Golden dunes o' fairy land A world o' dreams ahead now lays Come on lovely close yer eyes, 'n By th' gods o' sea 'n sky Start 'n sail on puffy clouds, 'n with them green 'n pretty eyes Steer yerself t' cotton grounds, Dream o' love 'n joy 'n sea Made o' liquid silk 'n gold, As a cap'n ye shall be Sailing in th' Nevertold, Hoist yer colours in th' blue 'n trust th' heart t' point the way, Ye be sailing straight 'n true T' th' port o' Dreamland Bay.
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Th' adventures o' Cap'n Kitty
*May dreams attend The Sandman's watch with happiness and bliss And may those dreams be soothing as the lightest fairy's kiss. May evil tidings yet abide in cells you've buried deep.   Let not the rumors of their shadows ere disturb thy sleep.   Put aside your cares and woes, and for this night abide, where azure waves lap silver shores and hopes drift with the tide.   And so, goodnight.   I wish thee well and when you next arise let nothing stop thy happiness beneath the pastel skies.*
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Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sweet Dreams
I’m a Polyglot Polymath, Microphone’s a Polygraph, Manners of a Sociopath-Rhymin’ keeps me on the path, Else I’d be hackin you up like a cannibal, Pullin the Chianti out-serve you up like Hannibal, Words heavier than Elephants invading cross the alps, Under Armour over Body Armour-waistline fulla scalps, From the Belt o’ the Celt o’ the Schizophrenic Sandman, You’re triple teamed by -EC- Raps new Xmen. I broke me chains,some say I went insane, But it’s simple,all I went and did was grow a brain. be the Bane of your life,while Mal plays Dark Knight, A rhyme Super Villain with a verse of Dark Light, The searchlights on-watch the cockroach scatter, We speak Dark Matter while your brain gets battered, batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed, Mal and Sandman's Positively Mental Attitude. It’s the original Irish OG rough rugged and ready, Battling me is futile keep your hands steady, I’m no pacifist,and if you take the **** I’ll clap you with a fist like an obelisk, That’s a grave warning,-global warming, The Dragon of Eire ,skies look stormy… Since cassettes and disks I’ve been spittin **** That makes wannabee’s wanna slit their wrists, The Sandman’s calling,come in and take a mauling, Rappin since clappin one two and yes y’allin, from New Aulins to saint Pauls my kin, Are gathering for the quickenin,pulse races,air thickenin' Highlander in a land cruiser,take your teeth out like a dentist E.C’s BRUISER. batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed, by Mal and Sandmans Positively Mental Attitude.
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Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Positively Mental Attitude.
I’m a Polyglot Polymath, Microphone’s a Polygraph, Manners of a Sociopath-Rhymin’ keeps me on the path, Else I’d be hackin you up like a cannibal, Pullin the Chianti out-serve you up like Hannibal, Words heavier than Elephants invading cross the alps, Under Armour over Body Armour-waistline fulla scalps, From the Belt o’ the Celt o’ the Schizophrenic Sandman, You’re triple teamed by -EC- Raps new Xmen. I broke me chains,some say I went insane, But it’s simple,all I went and did was grow a brain. be the Bane of your life,while Mal plays Dark Knight, A rhyme Super Villain with a verse of Dark Light, The searchlights on-watch the cockroach scatter, We speak Dark Matter while your brain gets battered, batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed, Mal and Sandman's Positively Mental Attitude. It’s the original Irish OG rough rugged and ready, Battling me is futile keep your hands steady, I’m no pacifist,and if you take the **** I’ll clap you with a fist like an obelisk, That’s a grave warning,-global warming, The Dragon of Eire ,skies look stormy… Since cassettes and disks I’ve been spittin **** That makes wannabee’s wanna slit their wrists, The Sandman’s calling,come in and take a mauling, Rappin since clappin one two and yes y’allin, from New Aulins to saint Pauls my kin, Are gathering for the quickenin,pulse races,air thickenin' Highlander in a land cruiser,take your teeth out like a dentist E.C’s BRUISER. batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed, by Mal and Sandmans Positively Mental Attitude.
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32
A late hour. Don't even look at the clock. Every fiber of my good sense yells go to sleep and I do not. Every bit of logic understands that I need to wake in fewer hours than I needed to sleep in the first place Still I sit here Listening to music. Writing a poem. Staring idly at a browser window. The lights are on, the blinds drawn. When the sun begins to rise, I will not see it I've seen several sunrises recently I remember what they look like. In the midwest somewhere, a tweaker sits awake for the third day. Chasing vapor and ghosts He's seen the sunrise too, perhaps an hour later He may or may not remember We run from the cousin, but he finds us The sandman cometh. And Enter night and what dreams may come Locked in the struggle we all lose, Running from comfort and sanity at full-speed                                      10.03.11                                      D.B. Guy
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
A poem for the weary
Orange capsules of condensed vitamin C Tumble out onto my cracked, Outstretched palm, As I arch my spine towards the bathroom sink, Scooping lukewarm water from the faucet Into my half closed mouth- The tiny pills clog my upturned throat: Just two of the numerous solutions To a world too numb To contest. I've never felt more alive, Than when I'm drowning my body With handfuls of tap water And magic remedies bottled up and Marketed to a world Afraid of growing old. Lining the wall of local drug stores, One isle over from office supplies And scented laundry detergent. Multicolored, multipurpose- Labels proclaim the fountain of youth To anyone alive enough to fear it. There's never enough of reality To reach our depleted veins Through the ever present forms Of the world. Enough isn't Enough, until we've convoluted it into a tiny Plastic oval, and forced it down the throats Of those well enough to swallow it. Pharmaceutical companies proclaim their Daily gospel in the linoleum streets Of hospital waiting rooms And local grocery stores, As I cross my heart and count the Hours until my next prescribed dose Of complacency. Who knew happiness Could have the bitter after taste of Vitamin B or The credibility of Zoloft. The sandman has been replaced by Benadryl, While creativity lies stagnant Beneath adderall's indifferent thumb. Obsession is a 26 letter alphabet, Strung together by a bunch of deficiencies, Incoherently droning on To the burden of Man, And flickering neon light Of a drive-thru pharmacy.
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Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Vitamin C
Orange capsules of condensed vitamin C Tumble out onto my cracked, Outstretched palm, As I arch my spine towards the bathroom sink, Scooping lukewarm water from the faucet Into my half closed mouth- The tiny pills clog my upturned throat: Just two of the numerous solutions To a world too numb To contest. I've never felt more alive, Than when I'm drowning my body With handfuls of tap water And magic remedies bottled up and Marketed to a world Afraid of growing old. Lining the wall of local drug stores, One isle over from office supplies And scented laundry detergent. Multicolored, multipurpose- Labels proclaim the fountain of youth To anyone alive enough to fear it. There's never enough of reality To reach our depleted veins Through the ever present forms Of the world. Enough isn't Enough, until we've convoluted it into a tiny Plastic oval, and forced it down the throats Of those well enough to swallow it. Pharmaceutical companies proclaim their Daily gospel in the linoleum streets Of hospital waiting rooms And local grocery stores, As I cross my heart and count the Hours until my next prescribed dose Of complacency. Who knew happiness Could have the bitter after taste of Vitamin B or The credibility of Zoloft. The sandman has been replaced by Benadryl, While creativity lies stagnant Beneath adderall's indifferent thumb. Obsession is a 26 letter alphabet, Strung together by a bunch of deficiencies, Incoherently droning on To the burden of Man, And flickering neon light Of a drive-thru pharmacy.
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48
*Morpheus has never been kind to me His somniferous ways leave me wanting Grasping at the cusp of a reality As evanescent as the morning mist That greets this reluctant gaze. He exists to these sheathed Bourbon eyes Within the veiled carapace Of the only form I've ever wanted more Than necessity and air. His torment lies In false reunions, in joining and parting lips In forest eyes that linger behind in my thoughts Like the echo of a cannon Long after it's wrought its own havoc. Yes, that twisted Lothario That Grecian sandman Exists to overcharge the soul with Hope so poisonous Bodies and minds are wracked with it Inspired by it Haunted on into the waking world Where he waits on the periphery Eyes narrowed in the light Of the waking world that renders him useless.
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Sleep Has Never Been Kind.
My sandman watches over me. Fills my dreams endlessly. Yes my sandman watches over me, adrift in absolvement, where gods can proudly be either here or all at once dead to me. He is the master of my fate, and my lover too. He watches over me. As I'm watching over you. All is endless mountains in the span of endless days. But only endless nights are what we praise. They raise you from the dead. By my sandmans hand, and lay you to rest you poor broken man. My sandmans got a plan that will put you to sleep. A thousand miles of just counting sheep. I'm ready for the dreamless deep. But as I'm locked in the dark I I feel the warmth of your heart something that is keeping me free. From the dark prison I seek for eternity. You just won't let me go oh no. Your my sandman too. When I dream I dream of you.
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
my sandman
Another morning in the life Of a P.T.D, I slurped my Juice back all  400 ml, then Stretched up, fingers Wiggling as mother picked Me up. Snuggles in the morning Nothing better, to show I'm Loved. But back to business, As I turned my dummy to The opposite side, the taste Is better every time its turned Soothing with each **** It was nearly breakfast time A belly is never wrong, MMmmm... Toast and jam, I smile At mummy with my Cheshire Jam smiled face. "Silly little man" As she wipes the smudges From all over my face. A case to solve, was my plan, The missing statue of SANDMAN BOB tm. It was here before, but now Gone, the prized possession Of hairy dog, as I pat his head And he licks my face Yuckkkk.... Doggy that was yuck, he wags His tail and then he is off. What a morning so much done, Time for a nap then detective Work to be done. I wake to Dads voice, "Morning little man" "How was your nap" As i give my answer with a Yawn and a smile, he gives A cuddle then off to work for Hours of fun and playing games. The clues to be seen the trail To be found, for I'm ***** Trained Detective"* And no case is to far, as Long as I can have a nap And a cuddle, maybe a Little sip and a gulp, here On look out of what is to Be found. Hairy dog is sleeping in his bed, I hear a noise I hear a Sound?? What a strange noise, "Snoring" "NO" "Bottom belches" "No funny smells" As I lift up his blanky Softly so not to wake doggy's sleep, And their he is safe and sound. "SANDMAN BOB" "Playing hide and go seek" Under hairy dogs nose and bottom, As he sleeps it does squeak, it Does beep, I lift it up and under His paw, to surprise him when He awakens. A tail shall wiggle And flop around, but the case was Solved and a happy smile found. ***** Trained Detective* does it Again, but for now it is nap time, A new case, a new thing to be Found. I will see you all again Soon, But now its snuggles Time with mummy in bed. As I close my eyes night, night I turn my dummy once more, As sheep float quietly over my head.
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Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
PTD ***** Trained Detective)
Another morning in the life Of a P.T.D, I slurped my Juice back all  400 ml, then Stretched up, fingers Wiggling as mother picked Me up. Snuggles in the morning Nothing better, to show I'm Loved. But back to business, As I turned my dummy to The opposite side, the taste Is better every time its turned Soothing with each **** It was nearly breakfast time A belly is never wrong, MMmmm... Toast and jam, I smile At mummy with my Cheshire Jam smiled face. "Silly little man" As she wipes the smudges From all over my face. A case to solve, was my plan, The missing statue of SANDMAN BOB tm. It was here before, but now Gone, the prized possession Of hairy dog, as I pat his head And he licks my face Yuckkkk.... Doggy that was yuck, he wags His tail and then he is off. What a morning so much done, Time for a nap then detective Work to be done. I wake to Dads voice, "Morning little man" "How was your nap" As i give my answer with a Yawn and a smile, he gives A cuddle then off to work for Hours of fun and playing games. The clues to be seen the trail To be found, for I'm ***** Trained Detective"* And no case is to far, as Long as I can have a nap And a cuddle, maybe a Little sip and a gulp, here On look out of what is to Be found. Hairy dog is sleeping in his bed, I hear a noise I hear a Sound?? What a strange noise, "Snoring" "NO" "Bottom belches" "No funny smells" As I lift up his blanky Softly so not to wake doggy's sleep, And their he is safe and sound. "SANDMAN BOB" "Playing hide and go seek" Under hairy dogs nose and bottom, As he sleeps it does squeak, it Does beep, I lift it up and under His paw, to surprise him when He awakens. A tail shall wiggle And flop around, but the case was Solved and a happy smile found. ***** Trained Detective* does it Again, but for now it is nap time, A new case, a new thing to be Found. I will see you all again Soon, But now its snuggles Time with mummy in bed. As I close my eyes night, night I turn my dummy once more, As sheep float quietly over my head.
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80
Baby, I'm a thief. I will steal your sleep With a word, Enticing you to shed your blankets And walk the night with me Like a demonic Sandman And we'll do un-Hypnotic things And un-Morpheus things. Nyx would be proud. So scurry away little boy I will make you so sleep deprived, You won't even remember your name And I'll send you off in the morning With dark circles, Drooping eyelids, And to accidents lying in wait for you Beware of me, love. I will ruin your life As I steal your sleep. Please Forgive me, and goodnight.
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
Thieves and Sharks aren't so different, you see
I drank a cup of mushroom coffee With a friend, now long forgotten We watched the walls change colour From red to orange and to yellow We laughed at the spider with too many eyes I thought I saw my friend, fixing his van But in reality, he had wandered upstairs So I watched the TV and then it spoke The voice seemed to be talking just to me And then mister sandman fluttered nearby My friend decided he wanted to take a walk I agreed and I knew it was time to go home And where I was amazed at technicoloured butterflies My friend jumped away in alarm from the giant frogs And I never drank a cup of mushroom coffee again
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May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 8:29 PM UTC
Mushroom Coffee
I know it's out there somewhere the elusive balm of sleep. I've tried an evening toddy and I'm running out of sheep. Prescriptions drugs and sedatives placebos, they must be. Because my eyelids won't stay shut there's far to much to see. The REM my body craves is like a hidden itch. I know I need to scratch it but can't FIND that son of a ***** And so I lie in darkness and stare up at the fan. I try to count rotations while making up a plan. The Sandman's on vacation. I guess i'll read a book. I listen to some sound effects a breeze and babbling brook. I may just have the answer.   A hammer is the cure. But such a headache I would get! That has no real allure. Desperation beckons.   I'm teetering on the brink. I'd give a lot for just a bit ( ten dollars for a wink?) My eyes are red and swollen.   My jaw is sore and raw. The yawns are coming faster now there oughta be a law. I'll see you in the morning.   Sweet dreams if sleep you can. For me...I'll just go meditate and watch that ceiling fan.
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May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
Elusive
1. I was outside shoveling horse **** considering the more **** I piled up, the less you'd deal with when you came home. 2.  I woke up every night at 2, unfamiliar to having the bed all to myself, curled around a pillow like a buoy far from shore, sea sick in the choppy water, my vision reduced to abstract smudges. I focused on what must have been your silhouette as I gulped cups of salty water half a mile into the ocean, exhausted and drowning. 3. Medicinal marijuana alleviates  anxiety. I won't swear on depression, I believe, there are four types of depression. Blue dreams are most desirable, every day for 8 months. 4. You've probably seen this desktop orb that captures electrical currents, so when you touch it with your fingers violet bolts ignite against your glass fingerprint. With this light, 2 a.m. I scoop the sandman's hash into my pipe so i can get some rest from my past who caught up to me a few days ago. 5. Dreamer. Heartbreaker. Deep thinker. No harm has come -- to--- you. 6. When it gets dark again, run baby run. Spin around with my eyes on his, reveal the wreck behind my lids, at the thought of losing him, not to another woman, but to Fate. Hold him tight. Make love like you mean it, not to **** but to tie two hearts together as they bleed. It's bloodstains on the white sheets, two people loved here like death sat by the dinner table, waiting on his appetizer.   7. The cruel morning illuminates his naked body as he slept. I cried because I didn't know if dreamed of pleasing me. Why did I let things I couldn't control worry me?
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Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Hide and Seek
1. I was outside shoveling horse **** considering the more **** I piled up, the less you'd deal with when you came home. 2.  I woke up every night at 2, unfamiliar to having the bed all to myself, curled around a pillow like a buoy far from shore, sea sick in the choppy water, my vision reduced to abstract smudges. I focused on what must have been your silhouette as I gulped cups of salty water half a mile into the ocean, exhausted and drowning. 3. Medicinal marijuana alleviates  anxiety. I won't swear on depression, I believe, there are four types of depression. Blue dreams are most desirable, every day for 8 months. 4. You've probably seen this desktop orb that captures electrical currents, so when you touch it with your fingers violet bolts ignite against your glass fingerprint. With this light, 2 a.m. I scoop the sandman's hash into my pipe so i can get some rest from my past who caught up to me a few days ago. 5. Dreamer. Heartbreaker. Deep thinker. No harm has come -- to--- you. 6. When it gets dark again, run baby run. Spin around with my eyes on his, reveal the wreck behind my lids, at the thought of losing him, not to another woman, but to Fate. Hold him tight. Make love like you mean it, not to **** but to tie two hearts together as they bleed. It's bloodstains on the white sheets, two people loved here like death sat by the dinner table, waiting on his appetizer.   7. The cruel morning illuminates his naked body as he slept. I cried because I didn't know if dreamed of pleasing me. Why did I let things I couldn't control worry me?
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7
as i sit here awake waiting for some comfort only received by those who venture into the depths that the night offers delusions of peace and visions of grace cloud my weary mind yet do nothing to ease my troubled heart is there any truth to be had from my restless vigil? i - a sentinel of the moon i - a watcher of the shadows i - an eloquent fool am driven to seek a respite from the waking world by staying the hand of the sandman in hopes that these mountainous mole hills may shrink under my gaze futile? it may be so yet dreams that may keep my company scare me more than any insomnia induced hallucination
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Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
warning: may cause sleeplessness
I've got my Rip Van Winkle on I've got my dreams all packed Now all that is need be A shady spot to lay my head One that is unmoving That will be around for years When roaming the halls of slumber Time is the first thing that is missed I sit back as I relax With a good book in hand I commence to yawning hard Enter stage left...Sandman I've got my Rip Van Winkle on The rest is history I'll see you all around sometime But only in my dreams
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
Rip Van Winkling
Go to sleep little bluebird Close your eyes now little bluebird Go to sleep now little bluebird Sleep tight The moon has kissed your brow The stars have sung your lullaby The clouds have tucked you in It’s time to dream Go to sleep little bluebird Close your eyes now little bluebird Go to sleep now little bluebird And dream The fairies are watching You’re safe now little bluebird Go with the sandman and dream Go to sleep little bluebird Close your eyes now little bluebird Go to sleep now little bluebird Sweet dreams
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Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:42 AM UTC
Bluebird
5 years is too long It's a habit and I took too long to grab it I let it slip through my fingers into the deepness of my sleep The parasite ****** it dry and stole the sandman, father time I can no longer tell reality from this sideways world in front of me I could cure this horrid habit Instead I stay silent and pretend I don't have it I am weaker these days, far more than before I used to be able to feel the freedom in the sun Now I'm blinded by the light of a raging dawn
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Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
Insomnia(Again.)
When I hear a concealed clock ticking, I think it's some shouldered past jello grenade ready to chastise my fletched thumbs. Like the last time Sandman drew supper with his knees, and decided to fling cherry cobbler at my nose, I realized this homeless perfume actually belonged to Mother. Her pearls redeem her complexion, milk marrow of silk against her nose-- three strikes dawdling their tongues from underneath tin necks. Steady, rinse, exfoliate: but those are difficult to do when your rib cage cracks like the last octave of a reddening audience. Brother thinks the tree skirt is soft, coddling his pats and rabbits below a ranch full o' pine scented apples. Sister wonders if she should bring new girl home, (met at 1:33 AM on 23rd Street. Apartment documented to smell like baby powder) but friends are friends are friends are friends, just friends as furrowed Daddy repeats to himself. Even "Hallowed be thy name..." confuses the CCD out of him. "Cancel Alabama's trip this year; the bees will be humming in their own candle wax. Besides, who wants to hug Nana when her breath doubles over in grilled salmon?"
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Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:22 PM UTC
O Christ!mas Tree
symptoms of anhedonia.                    a triumvirate, perceived                    Inanition& Inertia& Inaptitude:                                       they are ugly triplets who hide under leather                                       and self-loathing &stink of last night’s pinot                                       noir                                              from **** knows where.                    their fingers, cigarette-stained and calloused,                    reach into my prozac pillboxes                    &crunch my anxiety (meds)                    into fluoxetine powder and ivory between                    their yellowing teeth. I Do Not Cry When The Sandman Knocks                                       For He Sits At                                      midnight:the witching hour,whenthe My Porch Bearing Sweet                                      siblings curl up besides me to Dreams &Sister Death, Whose Touch                   ,                   ravage; I’ve Long Wished For                                                         *they will not                                                                                        leave me                                                                            untilthe                                                          cloyingly sweet                                          perfume of Death        is scrubbed clean fromthe                                                                             pulse                                                                             point                                                                             of                                                                             my                                                                             wrists* There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing for you here. Nothing will bring me back. In three years time I’ll still be dead. My bed sheet is my shroud and Death holds my wrists in a vice grip. He still leads me below.                                       here is the untruth:                                                          i am here,                                                          Penelope at her loom,                                                          waiting for a lost lover whom I know                                                          will take ten years to come back to                                                          my awaiting arms.                                       here is the untruth:                                                          in three years time,                                                          I’ll still be dead.                                       here is the truth:                                                          nothing exists six feet under except:                                                          hell                                                          chalk dust                                                          powdered calcium.
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Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
symptoms of anhedonia
symptoms of anhedonia.                    a triumvirate, perceived                    Inanition& Inertia& Inaptitude:                                       they are ugly triplets who hide under leather                                       and self-loathing &stink of last night’s pinot                                       noir                                              from **** knows where.                    their fingers, cigarette-stained and calloused,                    reach into my prozac pillboxes                    &crunch my anxiety (meds)                    into fluoxetine powder and ivory between                    their yellowing teeth. I Do Not Cry When The Sandman Knocks                                       For He Sits At                                      midnight:the witching hour,whenthe My Porch Bearing Sweet                                      siblings curl up besides me to Dreams &Sister Death, Whose Touch                   ,                   ravage; I’ve Long Wished For                                                         *they will not                                                                                        leave me                                                                            untilthe                                                          cloyingly sweet                                          perfume of Death        is scrubbed clean fromthe                                                                             pulse                                                                             point                                                                             of                                                                             my                                                                             wrists* There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing for you here. Nothing will bring me back. In three years time I’ll still be dead. My bed sheet is my shroud and Death holds my wrists in a vice grip. He still leads me below.                                       here is the untruth:                                                          i am here,                                                          Penelope at her loom,                                                          waiting for a lost lover whom I know                                                          will take ten years to come back to                                                          my awaiting arms.                                       here is the untruth:                                                          in three years time,                                                          I’ll still be dead.                                       here is the truth:                                                          nothing exists six feet under except:                                                          hell                                                          chalk dust                                                          powdered calcium.
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44
A pencil is of dreams, the Sandman sings sweetly on graphite. Unlearn your rules, unleash your light. Dance on rhythms of pentameter and sing melodies that twinkle on the tip of your tongue, alliterative opera and assonance played among the bass that is literature. Sometimes you must ignore the pain in your hands, let callouses build and relish in blood filling your blisters. Pain here means progress. Sweep agony away for the sake of day then sink into the ink of night. Float on clouds of fantasy and write.
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC
Sandman’s wand
I'll watch the silver moonlight spread across my pillow and delicate fingers. The sandman nowhere in sight, and not wanting to be found. I'm growing tired of this game of hide and seek. Instead I'll stay with the sky as the sliver light slowly stains red with the coming dawn.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Olly olly oxen free. Come out, come out wherever you are.
And I hope she’ll be a fool, that’s the best thing a girl can be, is a beautiful little fool. To see no fault and see no cause, a demeanor that elicits the ceasing of qualms She will drink mint tea while sitting with glee on top of a cloud above a raging storm Her focus is precise and what she sees will be calm I wish for my daughter to be one She will live in a bubble, plated with the toughest material and doubled, and coated with rose-colored glass. It will be her veil, disguising injustices too well, but her aura will always be electric Her tears will be daisies growing amongst the lilies near a pond where there’s coy and fairies casting spells. She will sleep and dream neutral, as the sandman began his sutures, to maintain her outlook that life is swell. I wish for my daughter to be one With her sway and her gallop and her nod and her twirl, she will please the sensibilities of the world. I pray to the heavens, her angels and gods, that there will not be a crack in her armor. For if she is to see how the world truly be, then her face will forever be furled She is my joy and my love, a pearl necklace with a hug, a jewel that can never be matched And I hope she’ll be a fool, that’s the best thing a girl can be. Is a Beautiful Little Fool
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Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
Beautiful Little Fool
All started with the boy seeing Buildings, no trees, noise, no meaning. “Cuz’ this is the way to be.” Dad said to he. Explaining why, but all he knew wasn’t clear. “For what?” The boy wonders, in bed he lays. “Good night,” every night his parents say. Hoping one day It will come Just this once. Kings and Queens have set the scene. Losing hope, all he did was dream. Making up for waking up. Now, at once, or it’s too late. Open up, it’s been so long Play for us, a song. Quit your worries, stress and fears. Reel in the feeling that’s so near. Shine on you diamond! The sky is your limit! Underneath your skin Violently lit. When you wake. X be your name Yelled the sandman. Zero is left, it all ends.
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May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 1:31 AM UTC
An Escape (An ABECEDARIAN poem)
The ground connects us through our feet We connect the Earth through our minds And connect our hearts through our hands Until the ground beneath our feet Begins to crumble We dig up hatred and then repeat As we stumble Attacking the planet to cut our connection And severing our stability When the ground is filled with holes And the ground is filled with those We chose to dispose For what they know Or what they show We told them no And dimmed their glow We feel dirt between our toes As the quicksand embraces our ankles We let a malicious mudslide flank us The Sandman continues to introduce us To our own eternal rest On his endless conquest For minerals in his midst Sentiment unable to penetrate his sediment The dirtiness in his heart becomes evident When he drowns us in dust And colors us rust He feels he must But he made a fatal mistake Not realizing we are attached by soil As the soil becomes a lake We find relation deeper than oil The Sandman seeks our species' slumber But the power of our tears Are strong when shared And shower us with love That runs through our blood Moistening man Soaking the sand Once we see life grand
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Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
Sandman
SANDMAN Can you see them?-lookin' for me to be them, lookin' for my warmth to breath life to them, the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men, no heart no mind-mindsick and eyeblind, sheep talkin' like wolves that I find, most despicable-Dis-gusting unpredictable, following the wind as it blows on their wick they're all candles in the strong wind gutterin', snipes from a distance yeah they're all utterin' Great threats from great hollow chests, that up close-don't stand inspection, empty vessels-makin great noise, hard men behind keyboards hands -poised, with the poisoned pen ready to dip in the deep well, of hatred they bring from deep hell's, inside,a void,avoid if you can please employ- aversion tactics needed,don't need it, vampyres that need pyres,yellow they bleed it Yellow right down to the backbone believe it... CHORUS *the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men, Yes men Hollow men come follow men Yes Men-Shallow men come follow men, the hollow men, The hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men, Yes men Fallow men come follow men Yes Men-Shallow men come follow then while I tell you bout the Hollow men* JAY Yeah, **** right I can see them. Trolls in holes. I'm willin' to bleed 'em. Society's detritis, ..delighted by the slightest sign of weakness. Bleakness of their lives underlined by the lies they employ.. .. in their contrived.. ..cyber sphere. Scavengin' on carrion. Peckin' at the carcass. Behind the veil of anonymity. Sit in darkness as they hammer out calamity. No nobility or amity. Cyber-highway poison. I got the remedy. Hollow husks skulk and lust.. ..for coat-tails to ride on. Soon turn to dust. Rusting hulks their disgusting bulk decaying on the shore. Soon to be forgotten. The Yes Men, the Hollow Men, the fallow men. The everything is borrowed men. The no tomorrow men. The follow slowly to the gallows men. *The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men. Yes men, shallow men, come follow men. Yes men, Hollow Men. Never follow them. The Hollow Men. The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men. Yes men, shallow men, deal in sorrow men. Yes men. Don't ever follow them. A fool strolls to the gallows man.*
0
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
The Hollow Men final cut
SANDMAN Can you see them?-lookin' for me to be them, lookin' for my warmth to breath life to them, the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men, no heart no mind-mindsick and eyeblind, sheep talkin' like wolves that I find, most despicable-Dis-gusting unpredictable, following the wind as it blows on their wick they're all candles in the strong wind gutterin', snipes from a distance yeah they're all utterin' Great threats from great hollow chests, that up close-don't stand inspection, empty vessels-makin great noise, hard men behind keyboards hands -poised, with the poisoned pen ready to dip in the deep well, of hatred they bring from deep hell's, inside,a void,avoid if you can please employ- aversion tactics needed,don't need it, vampyres that need pyres,yellow they bleed it Yellow right down to the backbone believe it... CHORUS *the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men, Yes men Hollow men come follow men Yes Men-Shallow men come follow men, the hollow men, The hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men, Yes men Fallow men come follow men Yes Men-Shallow men come follow then while I tell you bout the Hollow men* JAY Yeah, **** right I can see them. Trolls in holes. I'm willin' to bleed 'em. Society's detritis, ..delighted by the slightest sign of weakness. Bleakness of their lives underlined by the lies they employ.. .. in their contrived.. ..cyber sphere. Scavengin' on carrion. Peckin' at the carcass. Behind the veil of anonymity. Sit in darkness as they hammer out calamity. No nobility or amity. Cyber-highway poison. I got the remedy. Hollow husks skulk and lust.. ..for coat-tails to ride on. Soon turn to dust. Rusting hulks their disgusting bulk decaying on the shore. Soon to be forgotten. The Yes Men, the Hollow Men, the fallow men. The everything is borrowed men. The no tomorrow men. The follow slowly to the gallows men. *The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men. Yes men, shallow men, come follow men. Yes men, Hollow Men. Never follow them. The Hollow Men. The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men. Yes men, shallow men, deal in sorrow men. Yes men. Don't ever follow them. A fool strolls to the gallows man.*
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i cast off pure light in the cellar i steal kisses and pray with my tongue sticking out ask me for a paper favor & i'll send you a geranium poem molded in the shape of a silver swan swooning i am the sandman's pupil fighting an epileptic fit & growling at the governor i gave my love a cherry she tells me how it tasted i gave my love a chicken now let's start a revolution
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Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 9:09 AM UTC
geranium poem