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"sconces" poems
I search for some decor to pretty up my house A headboard, some dead boards or maybe a couch? The said so to do it on public TV my kitchens not pretty as pretty as can be But what will the neighbors think of my design? they'll report to the magazine that it's beautiful and sublime! Some ship lap, some sconces all wrapped in a bow i will trend till tomorrow then die all alone Rip it all down Says Chip and Joanna They are more popular Than Hanna Montanna They live on a ranch an take millions to make a spectacular suprise for a couple to take We all laugh an cheer at Chip's child like antics Which makes great TV as Joanna gets Frantic! Do Chip and Joanna really care about you? As long as the station gets ten million views They tell us to fix it even though it's not broken go shop till you drop and spend every token Buy that cool sign made from cheap yellow plastic The richer get richer but, our wall looks fantastic! Do not give in to the big corporate greed there are sick, hungry people and starving mouths to feed so every cent spent on the corporate wealth helps the richer get richer and we go to stealth Wake up and see vanity is causing distress don't give in to pressure of this corporate mess!
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Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
Hobby Lobbyist
This is a place on the way after the distances can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along raveling courses to stop in a single moment and lie down as still as the chariots of the Pharaohs some in pairs that rolled as one over the same roads to the end and never touched each other until they arrived here some that broke by themselves and were left until they could be repaired some that went only to occasions before my time and some that have spun across other countries through uncounted summers now they go all the way back together the tall cobweb-hung models of galaxies in their rings of rust leaning against the stone hail from Rene's manure cart the year he wanted to store them here because there was nobody left who could make them like that in case he should need them and there are the carriage wheels that Merot said would be worth a lot some day and the rim of the spare from bald Bleret's green Samson that rose like Borobudur out of the high grass behind the old house by the river where he stuffed mattresses in the morning sunlight and the hens scavenged around his shoes in the days when the black top-hat sedan still towered outside Sandeau's cow barn with velvet upholstery and sconces for flowers and room for two calves instead of the back seat when their time came
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2.7k
Vehicles
I dreamt he sent a care package A shabby box filled with wall sconces from his ******** apartment half filled tablets thoughts and doodles with a note to not abuse substances and a really nice vinyl pressing of some nineties spoken word piece with one or another unknown ska alt rock grunge band That sure was nice of him I must have sent some good psychic ***** Spirits they call it
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Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 12:20 PM UTC
Buk
I wish to return to the days long completed when the strangest fantasies lived only in our dreams. Now there is no more fantasy within the lidded eye. Sleep exists only as respite from this cruel life. We find extravagance and folly in every gilded screen. What use is there then, for unconscious sconces within the mind, where we can tuck away originality until it sprouts and spreads like ivy on a British house. We cast away any respite from this mundane wonder, staying eager to see what else there is to see until nothing is left of our ivy covered minds except for meager impressions of what once was. People who wait much further down the road will one day walk back to this forgotten hideaway. They will see the traces of what was but they won’t be able to piece together our lost lives of slumber. And so the real unselfish tragedy, is not our decline- but the ensuing confusion caused by impatient minds.
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Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 5:18 AM UTC
Delirelations/ Revelirium
My 11:11s were made for sleepless nights playing back all these scenes when your heartbeat still melted against my ears, every sigh that lingered on my temple, every touch that lingered on my skin 11:11s were made for asking this dimmed wall sconces what it would be like to feel your body close the spaces, to feel it next to mine once more, of what it would be like to kiss you in the dark, with complete abandonment, like a wolf howling its heart out to the moon after a sunset that lasted forever It was 11:11, and now, I know I should’ve closed my eyes and kissed you that drunken April night, and melted in your arms when I still had the chance. Now, I close them, without you around, wrestling with these fixations trying to convince myself that one more recall of the memories would be the last; one more make-believe, one more fantasy wouldn't hurt. One more, and one more, and one more, I said, and it was 11:12 and suddenly, it did.
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Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
11:11 and other socially constructed clichés
She does not know how empty I am, without her. My forced absence drains me. I miss her skin, her hair, her laugh, her strong legs, her screams, her whiskey and mint breath, her fingers on my chest, her smelly ******* dog, her cluttered kitchen, her horrible wall sconces, and her muscles flexing underneath me. I miss the way we fit so well together in her small bed. I miss the nervous anxious feeling I would get on the way over to see her. I think of the quiet moments we would have after making love, when she would twirl her hair, and give me a new perspective. She was unhealthy for me, I knew that going in. That doesn’t change or heal or fix or fill my emptiness.
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Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Elvis really does smell like **** most of the time
*Wax drips from candles Placed in sconces on the walls To light up the house.* -M.H.-
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Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Dimly lit
I'm sitting at a wooden desk A quill in a *** as black as pitch And with feathers as soft as sea water The desk with peeling white paint Has drawers With crooked silver sconces To hold the candle stumps At night, as I write I use parchment, not paper Stroking the rough, grainy surface of it Waiting for my fingers to go numb In front of me a window Of warped and misty glass But I throw it open to feel the air As its wafts, heavy and salty Past the curtains I've hung there And clings to my face and neck I pretend I am the sea Clasping the quill in my hand Freshly dipped into its *** I write in thin, twisting letters I imagine they are grape vines Twisting through an orchard Fat with grapes Purple from the sunrise And these letters make words So sweet I can almost taste the wine on my tounge
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
I Imagine
Lonely, Sad, Men. I wanna be remembered for my lack of integrity, my pessimism, and my doubt. "The life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." Is the fine point in life. Se la vie - de la mort. Such is life-as in death. Such is life of Death. "Life's horrible at best." Well **** that thought, and die in your chest. "You sir, are a ******* I'll never be as famous or as bright, or have shining achievements as adorning night lights. Sconces. Crowning my mantle or hiding dusty walls; But you’re dead now and your body was all The end of mans night has come, I see an endless morning. Not as a prophetic insight; but as a lonely mans ending story. The prosthesis of the heart.
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
Lonely, Sad, Men
I wake up everyday my eyes riveted to the ceiling as rainbow flecks radiate from crystals that reside in the middle of the uppermost window this bedroom marked “private” on the door has meant twenty-four months complete control freedom to design every detail, every texture, every nuance Handpicked A  vivid palette splashed onto every square foot hoping to recapture life’s intense force while it drowns out   nagging shadows threatening to swallow My space Italian ceramic mask- topped sconces flanking the empty space the mosaic mirror I’m still learning to make the gilded cream vanity fit for a princess still Waits highlighted memories fill dusty shelves and cling to walls called Home now my queen size bed use to sit quietly in my guest room rarely disturbed now it harbors my   dreams and fears afloat on a sea of defiantly feminine pillows and blankets an eclectic mix of Me comes out of every nook and cranny while my inner sanctum takes shape.
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
Interior Design
you stand on the corner of your just-gone home, dirt from below the torn-up asphalt making its way beneath your sunglasses, the distance between now and then something you can no longer stretch your knees and step over. your first love is boarded up across the street, succumbed finally to the burn of nineteen’s shallow pockets and standing in the way of a new apartment complex. you walk on, humming so you can’t hear the heavy step of all that’s taking your place. it’s a strain on your ventricles, loving and losing and owning and letting go, when you’re here again. knowing the porch’s soft wood at number 18 while the door is bolted and a stranger’s boots line your closet floor. it’s not all lockouts and dire prognoses. your tomorrow professes to accommodate a higher wattage than the sconces in your old room, and your visits taste like love and memory and breakfast, and his bed is warmer than your own because he’s in it, and he welcomes you home like that’s what it still is. it feels like he’s not wrong to say so—sometimes, you still belong there. cold coffee in hand from the farthest corner where they know your order still. an opinion on which pizza joint has better marinara. a favorite bathroom. an indelible mark on your old library desk. some of it is yours. but some of it isn’t. some never was, and some has slipped through your fingers. you hum a little louder as the months go by and the boarded windows give way to a brand-new storefront—one that never knew you at nineteen—so you can’t hear the heavy step of all that’s taking your place. but you keep coming back.
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Juniper
you stand on the corner of your just-gone home, dirt from below the torn-up asphalt making its way beneath your sunglasses, the distance between now and then something you can no longer stretch your knees and step over. your first love is boarded up across the street, succumbed finally to the burn of nineteen’s shallow pockets and standing in the way of a new apartment complex. you walk on, humming so you can’t hear the heavy step of all that’s taking your place. it’s a strain on your ventricles, loving and losing and owning and letting go, when you’re here again. knowing the porch’s soft wood at number 18 while the door is bolted and a stranger’s boots line your closet floor. it’s not all lockouts and dire prognoses. your tomorrow professes to accommodate a higher wattage than the sconces in your old room, and your visits taste like love and memory and breakfast, and his bed is warmer than your own because he’s in it, and he welcomes you home like that’s what it still is. it feels like he’s not wrong to say so—sometimes, you still belong there. cold coffee in hand from the farthest corner where they know your order still. an opinion on which pizza joint has better marinara. a favorite bathroom. an indelible mark on your old library desk. some of it is yours. but some of it isn’t. some never was, and some has slipped through your fingers. you hum a little louder as the months go by and the boarded windows give way to a brand-new storefront—one that never knew you at nineteen—so you can’t hear the heavy step of all that’s taking your place. but you keep coming back.
Continue reading...
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Iron shackles to broken wrists, cold, wet stone: chains clank in the night. Fire flickers on sconces lining corridor walls. Footsteps echo down the hall; guards speak of a new prisoner's arrival-- Someone important, wise: confusion abounds at this stranger's fate. What time shall he arrive this eve? Where will he be taken? This place was not built for political prisoners. The rest of us forgotten: the small, shared meal lost; hunger gnarls within. Moans -- loved food is wasted.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
The Prisoner
Iron shackles bind wrists to a cold, wet stone wall. Moans echo down the hall while chains clank in the night. Fire flickers on the sconces lining the corridor walls. Footsteps draw near. Someone is walking down the hallway. The guards speak of a new prisoner's arrival. What time shall he arrive? Where will he be kept? Someone important-- that's what one said. Confusion abounds at this stranger's fate. This place was built not for political prisoners to be taken to. The rest of us forgotten, the small meal is lost. Hunger gnarls within: no food will come this eve.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
The New Arrival
Baby, this will make us look be-a-u-ti-ful. The difference between rich and poor Has and always will be good lighting, Marching orders-- no interrogations, Hang the **** string lights, Swivel the sconces to the left a hair, Light me up baby, yes. Be-a-u-ti-ful. They’re going to see us, All the way from space think man, Those ******** sure do have it all, They must have every last Eaton, Osram Can you imagine the bill? Must blow the energy company’s ******* mind. Yes, baby, yes. More filaments. Throw some Chicago on the record player while you’re at it, We’re going to throw the swankiest party this town’s ever seen-- Rich stuff, baby, classy. Be-a-u-ti-ful.
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Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 1:04 PM UTC
Cheap Lighting