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"securities" poems
She's like a drama queen, Plays the 'blame game' like a loser, Fair minded as a bigot, Wages war like drones, As free as surveillance, As open as privatized prisons, As equal as feudalism, As rich as the beggar masses, Bankrupt as homeowners, Socialist as the military, Truthful, trustful as "NEWS," as propaganda, Pagan as the manufactured Goddess 'Columbia,' Christian as the stingy, Pious as a sinner, Wicked as securities, exchanges on 'Wall Street,' Insecure as an empire, Greedy as a fast food glutton, As brave as a fool, Warmongering as a chicken hawk politician, Machevellian as a coward, As rigged as the free market, As selfish as Capitalism, As tolerant as Islam, Beautiful as a clear cut forest, Charming as a strip mall, Forward thinking as chaos, Lawless as congress, United as a belligerent crowd, Compassionate as a swat team, Green as any petrochemical company, Organic as pollution, Deep as a strip mine  .  .  .   .  .  .
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
Similes for America
Shark and Grizzly wander in and out Nightmare- More so than psychotic humans Scary thought- I live in the city
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
Unrealistic Securities
Watching night step-sitters staring at each passerby abiding time as if counting sheep stepping with the city's cadence Hearing sirens alarming in their BEWARE BLARING; persistent fearfulness for evil and citizens securities Staring-walking-bodies searching a barren land prostrating before the great needle Patched streets and decaying sidewalks by flooding night lights lay surreal DECAYING fingers of poverty playing its fingers into every crack, crevice; into every pore, into every cell member into one's whole being Sounding the hip-hop generation street corners of hustlers jiving away the night The hustled and hustlers' overwhelming struggling for power; being surrounded by red brick and stone; being  incased in poverty Pounding city hysteria; at times laying silent in sleepless depth by the waning gradualness; anytime readying itself to ERUPT
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
City ShAmBleS A hip-hop poem
**Society, the embodiment of human securities Is in reality the stark confirmation   Of a conglomerate of screaming insecurities Begging….its leaders….fervent introspection ** *Bending logic is an art perfected by all Regardless of creed class or stature No wonder the walk is seemingly a hard laboured crawl Culminating into deep exposed…psychological sutures* **Beings are bedevilled by a roving myopia Craving a farfetched grandiose utopia That’s why a bespectacled cynicism Is ironically of essence…to neutralise a deep rooted parochialism**
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Bespectacled cynicism.
Why try? Why bother? They never seem to understand Yeah you play a instrument For the marching band That’s not quite badass Not nearly edgy enough Girls hate it when you lie And love it when they bluff Whatever they say Always comes out right Your words may be real Still she takes them light Is she what you seek? Obtain her and be a winner Take the easy way out my friend Simply become a sinner Its what she wants Superficial securities They’ll come crashing down Replaced with apologies Still his words are filled with hot air Just replies to replace the blame She’ll buy into more ******** Then things will stay the same Maybe one day You’ll get your chance Keep your head up kid Save the last dance For eventually it’ll change No lies never last There’s a reason for you Nice guys clean up the past
0
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
Nice Guys Clean Up Past
Do not touch yourself. Your body is not yours to claim, Reign in your securities And tie them to the bedpost A notch that your crotch will never Remember, Do not try to regain The strength to stand up tall, It only gives you a place to fall from. If you hold your head up high People will start looking what is inside. Remember. Only let others touch which is yours. Now open your legs for a round of applause.
0
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
Untitled
Get impassioned, get informed, get involved, because our ignorance makes us impotent, irrational, idiotic invalids, incapable of inquiry, and strips us of our individuality. Time to step up and take back what's yours. Hedge fund managers and securities brokers hold a cumulative trillion + dollars in assets. While you're living on minimum wage, working 2 jobs, struggling with job security, or drowning in student debts; they rake in 9 figure incomes by gambling with other people's money, and get tax breaks that come out of your pocket. Your voice is not insignificant, you are just as important as the people you idolize. Believe in yourself and extend it to others. We are the collective majority, and we have been conned. Together, we have the power to make a change for the better, so spread the word, and tell em you heard: get impassioned, get informed, get involved.
0
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
A Thought (Expanded)
I favour the deep, impenetrable truth of the jungle Over the smooth ride over sleek black rubber; The ***** disturbing, demented disorder; The distortions of the lights we bathe on, Over outward alignments and the staleness of systems. I favour the cheap, rugged, bittersweet taste Of a late night's substandard drink, In the midst of true lights and shadows And the uncertainty they cast upon us, Over the orderly and satisfactory-- The dead pleasures and securities that Exist nowhere but in feeble projections. I favour the basic, primeval, animal grunt-- The dirt, the dizziness of true treading Across the muddy shallows--, Over the clattering of an overflowed, Certain mind. I favour doubt, earnest doubt, Unpalatable doubt, inescapable doubt-- A smile in a pitch-black room, A journey on a lukewarm air balloon, A half-finished sentence in a half-serious gloom--, Over hasty conclusions and tainted allusions. I favour the endearing messiness of reality; The chaos of light and dreams; The mystery, so out of reach, Of you and me and the space in-between; The stained, torn, shattered, burnt, Twisted texture we find ourselves upon, Over the smooth, marble-white, Sterile surface where false certainties Slide, grinning, before they find themselves On an impending collision with the infectious hesitation of the ground. I favour the acknowledging look Straight into the eye; A ladder with one step; A race with no competitors; A contentment without resentment; A bread on your table that's good enough, That doesn't tease you and promise you more, And more, And more, So that you forget what you should really care for, What lies deep under your skin, What stirs up the dormant contents of your guts-- You climb to the hilltop Which finally allows you to have A peek at the next one. I favour uncertainty and risk, And walking too close to the edge; I favour barely enough, And cutting it too close; I favour throwing all excess over the board, And lowering standards; I favour the taste of imminent failure And the adrenaline of a heart-wakening sprint; I favour meagre means And big dreams, free of currencies; For they all remind me what the world Really looks like, Who I really am, And what the winter-night winds Really feel like. I favour the ways of nature, often erratic, ***** ugly and convoluted, Often dumbfounding, Unintentionally intelligent and mysterious, Over the ways of fear-ridden constructions, For there is no such thing As a straight line.
0
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
Wednesday Manifesto
I favour the deep, impenetrable truth of the jungle Over the smooth ride over sleek black rubber; The ***** disturbing, demented disorder; The distortions of the lights we bathe on, Over outward alignments and the staleness of systems. I favour the cheap, rugged, bittersweet taste Of a late night's substandard drink, In the midst of true lights and shadows And the uncertainty they cast upon us, Over the orderly and satisfactory-- The dead pleasures and securities that Exist nowhere but in feeble projections. I favour the basic, primeval, animal grunt-- The dirt, the dizziness of true treading Across the muddy shallows--, Over the clattering of an overflowed, Certain mind. I favour doubt, earnest doubt, Unpalatable doubt, inescapable doubt-- A smile in a pitch-black room, A journey on a lukewarm air balloon, A half-finished sentence in a half-serious gloom--, Over hasty conclusions and tainted allusions. I favour the endearing messiness of reality; The chaos of light and dreams; The mystery, so out of reach, Of you and me and the space in-between; The stained, torn, shattered, burnt, Twisted texture we find ourselves upon, Over the smooth, marble-white, Sterile surface where false certainties Slide, grinning, before they find themselves On an impending collision with the infectious hesitation of the ground. I favour the acknowledging look Straight into the eye; A ladder with one step; A race with no competitors; A contentment without resentment; A bread on your table that's good enough, That doesn't tease you and promise you more, And more, And more, So that you forget what you should really care for, What lies deep under your skin, What stirs up the dormant contents of your guts-- You climb to the hilltop Which finally allows you to have A peek at the next one. I favour uncertainty and risk, And walking too close to the edge; I favour barely enough, And cutting it too close; I favour throwing all excess over the board, And lowering standards; I favour the taste of imminent failure And the adrenaline of a heart-wakening sprint; I favour meagre means And big dreams, free of currencies; For they all remind me what the world Really looks like, Who I really am, And what the winter-night winds Really feel like. I favour the ways of nature, often erratic, ***** ugly and convoluted, Often dumbfounding, Unintentionally intelligent and mysterious, Over the ways of fear-ridden constructions, For there is no such thing As a straight line.
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70
*The day I stop dreaming      is when I started my progress… I never really understood to why, oh why do we have to start a living? In the city of progress, I became the mindless puppet Of what we call ‘the clichés of society’ FOR NOW - I’m totally blind in all five senses     to where my love should be place in… From a specific today, I am robbed for my silence Totally alone never wanted nor even needed Conceivably A misplaced person in a ‘crazy world’ - or it is just me who thinks this way. Sometimes I would think no one would ever really captured                           - ‘the essence of my heart’ Or probably it was just me, who never did take noticed. Guessing I am too   - Perverse to feel anything within the walls of my five senses. Despite everything else, I understood how Society lives by. The imaginable ways it burdens and pleasure in –> Giving –> Receiving –> Showing –> US                                                          how life works with their walls. I could never blame how our world becomes a harsh place, Yet I could took the blame on US    or our humanity is too faulty consecutively. Too many Securities from any Insecurities. Walls upon Wall of their Owning Glory,       Almost nothing is free. So I stand chained from cultural responsibilities, for we were made to think this way. Ashamed of what I discovered So I hide in the covers of my pen To write, just write, A Written voice for the fallen.. *
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Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
The day I stop dreaming ~
*The day I stop dreaming      is when I started my progress… I never really understood to why, oh why do we have to start a living? In the city of progress, I became the mindless puppet Of what we call ‘the clichés of society’ FOR NOW - I’m totally blind in all five senses     to where my love should be place in… From a specific today, I am robbed for my silence Totally alone never wanted nor even needed Conceivably A misplaced person in a ‘crazy world’ - or it is just me who thinks this way. Sometimes I would think no one would ever really captured                           - ‘the essence of my heart’ Or probably it was just me, who never did take noticed. Guessing I am too   - Perverse to feel anything within the walls of my five senses. Despite everything else, I understood how Society lives by. The imaginable ways it burdens and pleasure in –> Giving –> Receiving –> Showing –> US                                                          how life works with their walls. I could never blame how our world becomes a harsh place, Yet I could took the blame on US    or our humanity is too faulty consecutively. Too many Securities from any Insecurities. Walls upon Wall of their Owning Glory,       Almost nothing is free. So I stand chained from cultural responsibilities, for we were made to think this way. Ashamed of what I discovered So I hide in the covers of my pen To write, just write, A Written voice for the fallen.. *
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34
What does love represent? It represents kindness, strength, another perspective on life, commitment, greed, playfulness, securities, joy, and selfishness. We cant live without any of these. We cant live without love.
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Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Love?
**** you and your little intelligentsia group therapy sessions basing its roots in caveman cartesian theoretic - i know you know that the blank canvas are the ******** and that artists work on that - because normally grey citizens are no blank canvas but a subordination - but still, **** you, why not concentrate on the blank economics of a beggar to exercise your little intelligentsia get-together sessions? there are less social securities in that department of inquiry - mental health and art... what's that? you jealous of the caverns of the mind crafting an escape pod to your ****** exercise of mechanisation - **** on me, crosswords! su doku! all matters of encryption! endear your lack of creativity with the synonymousness act of creativity decoding encryption, because you obviously can't encrypt on a complete lack of encoding parameters (blanks). you can't encrypt originality unless you start with encrypting nothingness with stars... and how often does that happen? perhaps once... i care to make you feel something akin to bombastic, a football stadium size of appreciation lost - skull kickabout with commentary: to create the post-relativity warp of quantity-quality, akin to space-time, for indeed the answer to science's space-time hyphenated couplet is quantity-quality - and that's hardly a measurable consideration, since there are too many particulars involved, i.e. too many individuals, choices and disparaging wills - too many particulars in the hyphenated couplet quantity-quality, since science is offering universal breadcrumbs with its space-time rationalisation for each and every for a share in populating an insignificance, whether on a personal scale or an impersonal / collective scale - and both are indeed expressed, the famous parasitical comparison found in too many numbered essays by individuals - but still humanism has a quantity-quality parabola, while science has its space-time parabola, and indeed both in dip, provide waves, for example the former with Plato and Neoplatonism, and for example the latter with the revisionists of Einstein - the revisionist excavators arguing precision to 100% proof of measurement in exponential scaling of the mind theorising a bus trip to Saturn like a bus-trip parallel-akin to a 1 mile trip on the same vehicle in the earthly atmosphere.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
humanism's space-time (i.e. quantity-quality)
**** you and your little intelligentsia group therapy sessions basing its roots in caveman cartesian theoretic - i know you know that the blank canvas are the ******** and that artists work on that - because normally grey citizens are no blank canvas but a subordination - but still, **** you, why not concentrate on the blank economics of a beggar to exercise your little intelligentsia get-together sessions? there are less social securities in that department of inquiry - mental health and art... what's that? you jealous of the caverns of the mind crafting an escape pod to your ****** exercise of mechanisation - **** on me, crosswords! su doku! all matters of encryption! endear your lack of creativity with the synonymousness act of creativity decoding encryption, because you obviously can't encrypt on a complete lack of encoding parameters (blanks). you can't encrypt originality unless you start with encrypting nothingness with stars... and how often does that happen? perhaps once... i care to make you feel something akin to bombastic, a football stadium size of appreciation lost - skull kickabout with commentary: to create the post-relativity warp of quantity-quality, akin to space-time, for indeed the answer to science's space-time hyphenated couplet is quantity-quality - and that's hardly a measurable consideration, since there are too many particulars involved, i.e. too many individuals, choices and disparaging wills - too many particulars in the hyphenated couplet quantity-quality, since science is offering universal breadcrumbs with its space-time rationalisation for each and every for a share in populating an insignificance, whether on a personal scale or an impersonal / collective scale - and both are indeed expressed, the famous parasitical comparison found in too many numbered essays by individuals - but still humanism has a quantity-quality parabola, while science has its space-time parabola, and indeed both in dip, provide waves, for example the former with Plato and Neoplatonism, and for example the latter with the revisionists of Einstein - the revisionist excavators arguing precision to 100% proof of measurement in exponential scaling of the mind theorising a bus trip to Saturn like a bus-trip parallel-akin to a 1 mile trip on the same vehicle in the earthly atmosphere.
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59
on this paper confesses my pen about my love for you on these hands - your protection has secured my mind, your permanent place of bullying me your affection has tormented me to never escape these exit wounds your love has boundaries to either enter a beautiful nightmare or arrive in a darkened reality i hope you reach and mend my fragile heart take my hand and i'll show you around the world and i'm sure your beauty would make a rush hour stand still like the globe does where your floral securities blend with my lowkey subtlety creation becomes our very own nature infatuation is nothin' new to your flaws radiance and ambiance to thee verse i preach of your soul when a goddess is walkin' down the streets of love allow me to be yours and yours alone.
0
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
on this paper
Wretched evil is hatched In the idle minds of man. Idle thoughts. Empty contemplation. Stupidity is contagious. Just look at our “great” nation. Shortcomings masked. Spoon fed, inebriated, ****** Swine. Hidden by false securities and Insincere smiles. Evils kept, Clandestine. Criminals running wild. Wicked, treacherous sorcery. Evil leading blindly. Madmen running our country. Gone are the days When minds traveled Freely. Gone are the nights When lovers loved Sincerely.
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Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
Idle Minds
Lately, I've tried to relate greatly to the daily slew of poppy brew and wisdom grew by the tv news crew spittin their wisdom from the pedestal push of the routine pedal stool mush that slid across the floor of lava rocks and hot spots that rupture soon enough when the keys rattle in doorknob and the whiny creak opens with meek silhouettes on shadowy walls of latex seepage...the colors' fingers stretch from the threads, penetrate the outlet, crawl through the cord, and tap my brain through the spine post run. Whiskey was the inception, but the jar was the culprit for sure: the vessel that drilled my brains and scratched the black background noise of my dreams. Logic plays in the background but the car fume imagery bores me lately. Need someone else to care to pretend for a minute, need two cafecitos to go, need three job securities to take a vacation from three life voids, y necesito una chica seria for the rest of this conversation...unless the inconvenience of engagement confuses she like the language attempts on me. Gone fishing, for the missing, for the family don't listen, for the docks do rock, and the waves make the the light prowl the wake off the take of the bow of the ballast aft tower. Opportuney viola sin duda, ninazungumza kiswahili...clock me in, blanket spanker, tuck away your worries. I love you and care about you too
0
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
Blast music in headphones so loud your thoughts don't make sense no more...
She's like a drama queen, Plays the 'blame game' like a loser, Fair minded as a bigot, Wages war like drones, As free as surveillance, As open as privatized prisons, As equal as feudalism, As rich as the beggar masses, Bankrupt as homeowners, Socialist as the military, Truthful, trustful as "NEWS," as propaganda, Pagan as the manufactured Goddess 'Columbia,' Christian as the stingy, Pious as a sinner, Wicked as securities, exchanges on 'Wall Street,' Insecure as an empire, Greedy as a fast food glutton, As brave as a fool, Warmongering as a chicken hawk politician, Machevellian as a coward, As rigged as the free market, As selfish as Capitalism, As tolerant as Islam, Beautiful as a clear cut forest, Charming as a strip mall, Forward thinking as chaos, Lawless as congress, United as a belligerent crowd, Compassionate as a swat team, Green as any petrochemical company, Organic as pollution, Deep as a strip mine  .  .  .   .  .  .
0
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Similes for America
T'is the season, pigeons fare on handouts, the homeless sell papers that no one reads, Mexicans wage a drug war around about Juarez, the Chinese run their factories on foreign waste, North Korean bunglers roar 'n reign, while South Koreans fawn and feign, the Russians fine tune their vanishing democracy, Europe is all a plunder, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Spain, Bailed out ***** bankers bailing bundles of bullock, they securities and sell, Retirement fund managers can't buy enough. The US is on overdrive, hot color alerts, underwear bombers everywhere lurk, every life is precious when it serves our needs, at the airports, *** tourists smile with glee, looking forward to having their packages ****** Oh, to be a Belizian, or maybe Swiss, and be able to say "cheese" to all of this.
0
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
T'is the season
Through the illusion of looking for you and see you between mirage .. Call you in my dreams .. And scream in my days .. I accept my friend to happiness and happiness .. I accept to the days remaining .. And the age of melting .. A hundred d...rink after thirst .. You illusion and mirage you .. *** *** Do not see you in the hands .. You are no longer as you .. No longer a player Game of life .. you life .. And you hope the rest over time .. What do I do tears have retained Almost **** me and my heart would break when ... sad, my veins explode in blood .. I depart .... My Spirit through space .. Perhaps the star had seen you in night .. or a planet may pull off the wings ... *** *** And spend nights and days in the search for you .......... .. Contemplate the blue of the sky and the waves of the sea .. .. .. and stillness and the silence of the jungle night .. In the nap and fresh ... and the revolution of whining .... and winds. .. Securities and swish Dawn with the moon .. and the beam slips through the branches of trees .. *** *** .. Dispel the darkness .. And hope in the hearts of lovers .. Awaken the heedless .. Blessed are you, O moon .. You are in your heaven moon .. In Lilac moon.. Published charm quiet ..... over deserts and wasteland And rivers and seas .., handing him the hearts of the lost Perplexed .. In Lilac creatures you feel comfortable ... and sleep filled eyes Home to their young happy in her dreams .. and miss the light through the clouds that inform your And looks forward to you .. tortured hearts of loving stares unaware of them run away sad tears on your absence .. Counting O Bright Moon .... and sent to the light lost in the mirage of illusion .. sad
0
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 10:03 AM UTC
Illusion
Through the illusion of looking for you and see you between mirage .. Call you in my dreams .. And scream in my days .. I accept my friend to happiness and happiness .. I accept to the days remaining .. And the age of melting .. A hundred d...rink after thirst .. You illusion and mirage you .. *** *** Do not see you in the hands .. You are no longer as you .. No longer a player Game of life .. you life .. And you hope the rest over time .. What do I do tears have retained Almost **** me and my heart would break when ... sad, my veins explode in blood .. I depart .... My Spirit through space .. Perhaps the star had seen you in night .. or a planet may pull off the wings ... *** *** And spend nights and days in the search for you .......... .. Contemplate the blue of the sky and the waves of the sea .. .. .. and stillness and the silence of the jungle night .. In the nap and fresh ... and the revolution of whining .... and winds. .. Securities and swish Dawn with the moon .. and the beam slips through the branches of trees .. *** *** .. Dispel the darkness .. And hope in the hearts of lovers .. Awaken the heedless .. Blessed are you, O moon .. You are in your heaven moon .. In Lilac moon.. Published charm quiet ..... over deserts and wasteland And rivers and seas .., handing him the hearts of the lost Perplexed .. In Lilac creatures you feel comfortable ... and sleep filled eyes Home to their young happy in her dreams .. and miss the light through the clouds that inform your And looks forward to you .. tortured hearts of loving stares unaware of them run away sad tears on your absence .. Counting O Bright Moon .... and sent to the light lost in the mirage of illusion .. sad
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26
Money, fame, worldly securities. If you have them you will never need Faith, hope, love, and things like these, You should only seek out the important things Which gives life true meaning. Family, friends, beliefs and dreams, All that is nice, but a good life requires Power acquired, fulfilled ****** desire, fortune transpired. Life will surely continue and be pleasant without Anything abstract or intangible, no doubt. The finer things in life always come from A bigger this, a newer that, a stable income. Just look at what the people at the top own; Money can buy happiness 'til the day you die And yet people still buy into the lie Living for others is not a wasted life. It's a truth that should trickle from the top-down, But what if these words were read the other way around.
0
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Up↓//Down↑
Sweet as the pantries, She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories, Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth. Basing herself upon these coatings, The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind. "What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre. Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook. While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates. ****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves. Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her. Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar. Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
0
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
The Woman
Sweet as the pantries, She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories, Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth. Basing herself upon these coatings, The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind. "What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre. Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook. While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates. ****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves. Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her. Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar. Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
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12
I want go to an airport with a whole truck load of lotion, bags of water and scissors all packed in suitcases. Just to see securities hilarious reaction
0
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
Spontaneous Thoughts (Series)
Somehow you saw that I wake each day as though my purpose is to walk aimlessly with no desire to live. I reject anything that promises security and has the chance of leaving me abandoned because I grow in this cage of in securities that casts a foreboding shadow on any joy that comes my way. You saw but you didn't really know that My insides still scream , I want you to know !! This feeling of 'I hate me' eats me whole, It withers my conscious until its dark deserted leaving me nearly demented. I feel obligated to smile but its in pieces from this constant silent reminder of 'you're too fat too fit in' So my body heaves over toilet seats but its too numb to regurgitate, and leaves me with the gut wrenching realization that my tears are only worth urinals. I see my reflection and it hurts me more, so with each ticking hour I'm broken with more velvet lines chartered on my arms, looking like a surgeons artwork. I die with handfuls of depressants altering my state of being ,invading, because I'd rather be far away. But mostly I lie with hard burning liquor for that instant buzz because its easier to blame a downer for these mad depressing days than to say 'I'm sad'. Maybe now you know But until I break from this mind forged ; two legged, two armed, one headed prison called my body... Falling in love , Being happy , Believing are foreign concepts
0
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
I Hate Me
Buried in your sorrows, Not a day without tomorrow's. Your windowed pain Spider cracks in the rain. The hopes and dreams, Sinking in empty screens. But not a second floats by, That you don't remember how you'll die. In this world, money equals fate, Be careful not to procreate. Promises of false securities, Foolish plans and possibilities. Standing here on your own Listening to busy signal on the phone. Pain builds up in your head. Soon your screaming. Could it be easier if you're dead? Your calling out for some notion, Just a tiny speck of emotion.... Silence fills the room. Your on your own and it feels too soon. Now it's time to leave the lagoon. Let go of your rock and drift away The ocean will bring you back another day.
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
Sorrowed soul
Snow glows like moonlit tears. Smoke halos caress wild children. I often think the moon glows with a serpentine smile. Only savages live with vacant securities. Dust cloud angels stain the frozen melodies. If they invited you in could you risk losing the day? Wander Haight and squander your fixes. Haloed sinners purge peace from smoke and snow. How now, dear friend, are your rich man's worries? Toil relieves turmoil when smoke and song share. Demons and devils to the ordinary man's struggles. Only angels share fumes and folly to give us spring's bloom. Not every able young man will last the winter.
0
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 1:28 AM UTC
Cigarettes & Snowflakes
Comfort me, choke me; Tough love is suffocating Soiled securities brushed away with morning light, Like the sun I will rise, Glorious, warming, magnificent Untouchable, the fountainhead of being, Radiant isolationist. I want to be like the moon, Adored, explored, celestial decor. Shining, round, and forever turning from your eyes. Human face with a hungry rabbit's body, Assaulted and scarred by a life-well lived, Dancing around your gravity, A gesture unreturned. Our system is not binary. I'll turn from you, I'll let you be, One of these days with bang and zoom, You'll come straight back home.
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
Sun and Moon