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"segregating" poems
Adjacent heart, Segregating the mind. Differing opinions. An argument, On line. Segregation of the mind and heart, Different from the soul. All do battle, To decide your fate. In this world.
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
Adjacent Segregation
MAMA DON’T ALLOW Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here We care a lot what Mama will allow Carpetbaggers ain’t no good no how. Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here We give a hoot what Mama will allow Leave districts right where they are right now. Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here. Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here. We don’t need Jim Crow no more We know just what that is for Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no warmongering here Mama don’t allow no warmongering here We care a lot what Mama will allow We’ve had too much war, don’t start no row. Mama don’t allow no warmongering here. Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here. Mama says we all take a breath We all got born and all face death Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here. Brent Kincaid 5/15/2015
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
MAMA DON'T ALLOW
By Arcassin Burnham Did you ever consider segregating, The good ones from the ******** The devils and gods, With trending honorables, Or symbolic presses, Call it lame meetings, Random trending would be my guess, I'm ******* crazy, In reality I need a physical test, Fail it then then turn it in, Then tell every in class their all ******* pests, Like I said I don't need your pity, Nor your sympathy, It was the end of me, But also the beginning of the new me, I will never rest, I just need some time to think, While this blows over, Being hated by many, But no luck with clovers, Violent black kid in America, Do I sound like a good person, Mistake me for a fool, Leave you with one of my curses, So strum away lady, Cause I'm not listening, I'd rather be frozen in block of ice, Then be trending.
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
"Lady Guitarist (Hp Diss)"
I grew up knowing to accept hate It was a childhood version of how to segregate Children were never kind to me through the years Forming more hate that built up and filled with fears I was lucky compared to most kids though I never had a true taste of hate I had yet to know In the past kids were segregated for their race It was as if this entire world bashed them for taking up some space The entire nation was once split in two Brother after brother is something we all knew The north and south each all fighting for something not alike But that only made the hope of happiness winning to begin to spike A great man stood in the great battle field between us all Un-segregating those who needed it afterall He was shot dead fighting for what he wanted Some people really didn't know his hopes and they felt daunted Today we fight another battlefield of pain Thought must of this fighting is in vain A man took the lives of many Americans twelve years ago Destroyed the very being of America that we used to know When the depression ran throught the nation We still had to deal with all of the segregation It ran through all of us as people living in peace Chopping us up as humans without need piece by piece Another war is in sight though we choose not to see it A fatal blow to many of us as if we got hardly hit Seperation throught the nation through segregation in our own eye Whether we be gay, straight, trans, or even bi We're all still people and still human If only we truly knew about it then I grew up in a world free of most types of hate But we all knew we all live in a world who chooses to segregate
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Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Growing Around Hate
I grew up knowing to accept hate It was a childhood version of how to segregate Children were never kind to me through the years Forming more hate that built up and filled with fears I was lucky compared to most kids though I never had a true taste of hate I had yet to know In the past kids were segregated for their race It was as if this entire world bashed them for taking up some space The entire nation was once split in two Brother after brother is something we all knew The north and south each all fighting for something not alike But that only made the hope of happiness winning to begin to spike A great man stood in the great battle field between us all Un-segregating those who needed it afterall He was shot dead fighting for what he wanted Some people really didn't know his hopes and they felt daunted Today we fight another battlefield of pain Thought must of this fighting is in vain A man took the lives of many Americans twelve years ago Destroyed the very being of America that we used to know When the depression ran throught the nation We still had to deal with all of the segregation It ran through all of us as people living in peace Chopping us up as humans without need piece by piece Another war is in sight though we choose not to see it A fatal blow to many of us as if we got hardly hit Seperation throught the nation through segregation in our own eye Whether we be gay, straight, trans, or even bi We're all still people and still human If only we truly knew about it then I grew up in a world free of most types of hate But we all knew we all live in a world who chooses to segregate
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32
We say that times have changed Yet the issues in the news Remain the same Three Muslims shot Over a "parking dispute" Yet the media news Can't get to the root Of the hateful crime Committed by a brute Too busy reviewing Fifty Shades of Grey While unjust crimes Are carried out everyday And why do we let ISIS Receive so much fame? And why is it that every Muslim is to blame? Associating a belief With violence and terror But it is among us Where you'll find the true error Using religious excuses To **** off God's creations Manufactured missiles Sweeping entire nations Thousands dead With nothing left to gain And those who survive Are left with terminal pain Seeing tears in the eyes of a mother Her son buried deep By the prejudice of another How far will we go Until we see the wrongdoings? Cuz once a life is gone... There is no undoing Segregating humans By religion, *** and race My beliefs may be different But I am no disgrace We classify ourselves With things like melanin As if our destiny Is determined by our skin Ignorance causing our vision to be impaired Can't accept the unusual Cuz we're too scared Too scared of the truth So we hide behind lies Too scared of being left out So we wear a disguise Morphing ourselves Into what is accepted Turning into clones Fear of being rejected But it's time to wake up Time to accept The difference in our land Time to end The suffrage that is at hand Time to unite ourselves as one Time to put down the weapons And put away your gun So join me now To spread the love And to silence the hate Our world may not be perfect But it's never too late.
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Call for Change (Edited).
We say that times have changed Yet the issues in the news Remain the same Three Muslims shot Over a "parking dispute" Yet the media news Can't get to the root Of the hateful crime Committed by a brute Too busy reviewing Fifty Shades of Grey While unjust crimes Are carried out everyday And why do we let ISIS Receive so much fame? And why is it that every Muslim is to blame? Associating a belief With violence and terror But it is among us Where you'll find the true error Using religious excuses To **** off God's creations Manufactured missiles Sweeping entire nations Thousands dead With nothing left to gain And those who survive Are left with terminal pain Seeing tears in the eyes of a mother Her son buried deep By the prejudice of another How far will we go Until we see the wrongdoings? Cuz once a life is gone... There is no undoing Segregating humans By religion, *** and race My beliefs may be different But I am no disgrace We classify ourselves With things like melanin As if our destiny Is determined by our skin Ignorance causing our vision to be impaired Can't accept the unusual Cuz we're too scared Too scared of the truth So we hide behind lies Too scared of being left out So we wear a disguise Morphing ourselves Into what is accepted Turning into clones Fear of being rejected But it's time to wake up Time to accept The difference in our land Time to end The suffrage that is at hand Time to unite ourselves as one Time to put down the weapons And put away your gun So join me now To spread the love And to silence the hate Our world may not be perfect But it's never too late.
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68
There is red in the forefront of my family crest, I was told that meant outsiders were not taken lightly. We would pour tar over castle walls and then many years later down our lungs. One technique would take longer to die. Riding a steam engine with a harmonica attached at my chest to make tips I double-tasked with a guitar while tar burned on the vestibule. Keeping those who didn’t like the smell out. The engine burned killing pixie-dust flecks and turning them into cinders. To Duluth and back each mouth mimicked. We used to abide by segregating those who enjoyed torture and those who didn’t.
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
The Letter "R"
The friendly of the friendly people might not change. Except, this world is changing in ways that might not be for the better. We are segregating ourselves. From the way we shop. Where once you venture out to perform that service. Now, many are on social sites ordering stuff. Losing insight of greeting one another. Back in the day , it was created by law and unwritten rules. Some, of which fools still conform too. Home schooling, is catching on in some corners. And many offer logic and irrational to , why they are doing it? But if your child doesn't have people's skills. Then lord help them when they have to use them. We have people of all races that stay to their own. But in the real world of living. This isn't a community at all. There's no slots in heaven for assign races. God didn't create anyone better than the others. In his vision, we all are sisters and brothers. Even, if we the human are segregating ourselves. Think about these words when you're saying your prayers. To get along, we must agree to be of one accord. Many churches do our harm. Which certain denominations think they are the appointed one to Christ.
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Segregating Ourselves
i was in the womb when the chernobyll calamity happened in 1986... people still speak of seeing radioactivity rainbows in the trees: segregating streaks where 10 metres of trees were green and 10 metres of trees were brown... much of my ailments i blame on the chernobyll calamity, with neurotic scandinavians spotting the radioactivity while some of us were tattooed with symptoms by this great tattoo artist; yes, chernobyll was far away from where i was born, but we're talking about atom among atoms in the wind - distance doesn't really matter when atoms are involved, not all hurricanes are visible, the atomic fabric is too fragile to be as easily isolated as a tornado for the eyes to see - remember what i told you: 10 metres of green trees, 10 metres of brown trees, Vivaldi was turning in his grave; the seasons are all but forgotten, spring blossom on trees throughout winter, and daffodils and other flowers perpetuating colour - and because they're around throughout the year, they're not that beautiful when the right temperature feeds the pores of skin to turn ivory tinge into copper hue (yes, anti-classical poetic technique requires the use of tautology - it's the new form of rhyming - tautology is required now, not rhyme immediate e.g. tinge & hue... that's an e.g. of tautological rhyming - or like baby pink & pastel red, chestnut & cinnabar, dark sienna & seal brown).
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
the chernobyll kid (tautology the new rhyme)
Oh, but please spare my head of necessities of the complexities that are but trivial and non-existential to the pursuit of living and thriving, not in a pool of segregating ridden paper, but in a bath of mentation and minds wide open. And please bite your tongue, when the lick of a serpent dances across your taste buds, when you wish to deprive me that of a young mind and youthful stride. I do not wish to be at one with your negativity, I wish to flee and sprint from your gloomy, pessimistic stint. Rather, I invite you to join me in the pursuit of creativity, to strive to leave your imprint, of sheer, requited positivity. But if you will, without a plee, I wish to help you swing with me on practiced words and the fleet from stability, I wish to take you on a stroll, through and into the soul, of nothing less than a dreamer, of a hoper, of someone so desperately fleeing from the necessities of the complexities.
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Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Necessities of the Complexities
i found two things bewildering, alzheimer's attacks the pronoun category, and other forms of it too, but modern psychiatry having abolished asylums for a humane revision of its practice has become a branch of medicine that over-prescribes nouns, and by such over-prescription invents noun jargon, it cut open an ancient greek word, used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently) to make no sense whatsoever, it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes pills that don't work... or if working then in a negative way... anti-psychotics can make you **** yourself in your bed when sleeping, i've been drinking for some time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger, when i used to be on anti-psychotics for no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial society does that to you, you can come from lithuania or poland and be treated like a would-be coloniser to extract the fastest sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors" treating you adequately), so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns, the iron core of the earth that's an individual thus dislodging all the adequate orientations of categorisations of words... like psychiatry abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective, plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar, plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long established a monopoly on nouns... i just use their terminology to excavate a new grammatical categorisation of words, from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor: all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they say cancer and you're expected to die... you're expected to live in their terminology of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque: you won't even commit a crime, but they'll treat you like a criminal... so long suckers... i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you protected by what i see as the final solution you thought was once church v. state... how about segregating democracy (the church) from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course the two are mutually dependent.
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Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
democracy (the church) / bureaucracy (the state)
i found two things bewildering, alzheimer's attacks the pronoun category, and other forms of it too, but modern psychiatry having abolished asylums for a humane revision of its practice has become a branch of medicine that over-prescribes nouns, and by such over-prescription invents noun jargon, it cut open an ancient greek word, used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently) to make no sense whatsoever, it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes pills that don't work... or if working then in a negative way... anti-psychotics can make you **** yourself in your bed when sleeping, i've been drinking for some time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger, when i used to be on anti-psychotics for no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial society does that to you, you can come from lithuania or poland and be treated like a would-be coloniser to extract the fastest sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors" treating you adequately), so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns, the iron core of the earth that's an individual thus dislodging all the adequate orientations of categorisations of words... like psychiatry abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective, plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar, plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long established a monopoly on nouns... i just use their terminology to excavate a new grammatical categorisation of words, from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor: all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they say cancer and you're expected to die... you're expected to live in their terminology of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque: you won't even commit a crime, but they'll treat you like a criminal... so long suckers... i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you protected by what i see as the final solution you thought was once church v. state... how about segregating democracy (the church) from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course the two are mutually dependent.
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54
it's not plagiarism, rather, a collectivist coincidence - i can't believe people in the former days would reduce themselves to plagiarism - they'd sooner die than relieve themselves of an original idea - working with a mythology - how could such differentiated people achieve copernican globalist relativistic / globalist impetus, and yet, somehow succumb to an ethnocentric - genesis of unoriginality... yes, unfathomable, the concept of polyphony, synchronicity inter-people... plagiarism is a modern phenomenon, it doesn't exists in collectivism of inter-ethnic conundrums of segregating categorization... just like evolution is god's take on the thrill of gambling... an original idea... allowing an in group focus... it could never be a plagiarism - the segregating process of techno. advancement... toward a... less cultural appropriation... and more? cultural loaning... "plagiarism"... perhaps i should "read" into solving crossword puzzles... now plagiarism is easy... any son of sam is not an arsonist... but as my continued fascination continues with andrei chikatilo... and batman, the dark knight rises scene on the plane: why would you shoot a man, before taking him into a prison cell?! ah... christine chubbuck... this fascination... will not, die... such a solemn, vernacular death... worthy of a Vatican pawn-ship of preceding the scourge of death.
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
now plagiarism is easy... any son of sam, is not an arsonist.
The sun would always come out a little after the mind massacre - follow the monsters- i fancy lying on the hard floor because it is the only place where the train of vertebrates in my spine can set in its rails. i am a void bleeding out oxidised civilisation -holes in my head- in a world where colours are just fabricated memoirs of porcelain filmstrips. i fear that i am becoming anorexic: my brain is splattered onto a tiny plate -emaciated- where i maliciously pick out the soft and pretty bits. My tongue is cancerous, segregating words into Pinks' and greys'. my heart has malformed into an ugly blister -swollen- milking saps of dismal yesterdays. i'm swimming alone in an acid bath of bleach and ice. can't find the light -the light- beneath the glass -the night- of the -decaying- chandelier.
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Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 10:14 AM UTC
GreyAPPLEJUICE!
*Thought of Spring cleaning tonight took out everything which was closed in my closet.. started segregating into necessary, unnecessary and for later use again.. And all these seemed too much of work.. as with every piece of thing, I had my emotions attached! But suddenly a thought arose.. why not all seasons cleaning for a mind?*
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Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
Spring cleaning
The bitter despair of the world, its entirety, profanes and shrieks louder than banshee or immense Tourette for release. and no, it isn't fair that one should carry alltheweight but itisso. static and frigid perpetual panging echoes and so the sooty waterfalls erode Grand canyons from the sandstone, the ugly grittiness of my poisoned empty essence. too charming, rhyme and rhythm slither greasily and gassily, segregating. bourgeois and homeless verse never Touch. and so even my Own words war and hack more than cult horror films that flicker on the moldy bleeding brick of narrow sweating alleys that have seen rapeandmurderandfearandlustandgreed and muchworse. but it is all of my kind; the residence of my mind
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Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
sans l'espoir
It is hard to tell sugar and salt mixture apart by merely glancing or touching. I wish I could master the art of segregating them without any arduous chemical process. According to wikiHow, one may assess the grain sizes of salt and sugar. But they too, acknowledge that table salt and granulated sugar do look very similar; the differences in these 2 is minute. Option 2: Acquire a sieve sized in between the 2 grain sizes so as to let the salt through. However, this method is clearly not fool proof since not all salt and sugar grain is of the same size. A salt granule could mask itself. The best way to separate salt and sugar is by adding absolute alcohol to the mixture as only the sugar will dissolve, salt is insoluble in alcohol. Then after, proceed to evaporate or boil off the sugar and alcohol solution and you will be left with salt. Much like in life, it requires more than looking or tactility to tell between genuine and the pseudo. It takes time, takes processes and occurrences. I once more wish I could distinguish them easily. Then again, as much as I am grateful for the sugars in my life, excessive amount of sugar isn't all that good for the health. Salt heightens the sweetness of sugar; it teaches me to appreciate sugar better. More importantly, salt, to a moderate amount, does good to the body too. As such, I am grateful for both the sugar and salt in my life. Sugar provides a sense of joy, while salt is vital for personal growth.
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Jun 3, 2022
Jun 3, 2022 at 3:35 AM UTC
Sugar or Salt
She continued to walk on Towards the light that resonated with hers; Unrecognised by the world, A pleasant titter of confidence radiated off her. As she approached the source of light, A small light only perceptible Because of the dominant darkness, The darkness of shattered hearts and faiths; There, she realized that there stood a wall, The wall of life as it was known, The wall which divided the achievers from the rest A faintly painted, thinly segregating wall; She didn't know, But she followed a unique way, A brilliant mind with a million world changing thoughts Ready to project all her thoughts on this wall of life, A wall too small to accommodate all her thoughts Thus painting the wall vibrantly with her thoughts, Making the light around A dominant sight, Dominant enough to lift her up And flung her over to the achievers' side Now she stood bold, Recognized by the world A predominantly large and hurdled world. Yet with that radiating confidence, She moved ahead, Leaping forward with no more feelings of doubt or distress, But only to motivate her fellow populace, The ones still on the other side, To follow their own lights, And not to be lead astray.
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Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
WALL OF LIFE
Sifting through strands of broken time Segregating parts of the human mind Underwater where the silence is immense Inside the sun where the heat is intense All experiences which come and go Deteriorate to even the flow Before all we know Dissolves like snow
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Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
Reverberating Mausoleum
on the windowsill of my bus a mayfly sits, her tails forming a V she twitches, spontaneous, watching the trees blow by her relentless endeavours to pierce through the glass the barrier segregating her from the world outside to stay means certain death and yet, she watches the rolling film through the lens of a bus window and as the credits roll she twitches.
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Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 12:36 PM UTC
Ephemera
time will spare but the love and fond we share is slowly segregating, slowly ripping, slowly disappearing off the face of earth As much as it hurts words murdered us the most lies, deceits was common, but all trust was lost but both of us were at fault Lets shed our tears the more the better tear after tear represents drop of love that was put into our heart but it's now draining _Camree_
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Nov 22, 2009
Nov 22, 2009 at 6:01 PM UTC
time will spare
the ironic israeli bombing their ghettoes daily destroying homes building walls and fences segregating using methods learnt in bitter lessons is degrading but where all pain is forgotten behaviours are ingrained
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Pale (stine) horse
hours of isolation in quiet company,                                                            though, they never seem to appear                                        as much to your eyes                                                                              as they have to mine.                                         the humming of the television,                                                                                        dully lulling the visions in the mind                                        into the shapes                                                                          they're made for;                                                               searching synapses and relapses                                                          for just another answer to the mystery                                                                                                                               to what's going on,                        here in my dreams.                                                               the company stays after i've left,                                                               as they find it comfortable there,                                                                       stuck; subconsciously                                                                      segregating themselves.
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Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
asleep
hours of isolation in quiet company,                                                            though, they never seem to appear                                        as much to your eyes                                                                              as they have to mine.                                         the humming of the television,                                                                                        dully lulling the visions in the mind                                        into the shapes                                                                          they're made for;                                                               searching synapses and relapses                                                          for just another answer to the mystery                                                                                                                               to what's going on,                        here in my dreams.                                                               the company stays after i've left,                                                               as they find it comfortable there,                                                                       stuck; subconsciously                                                                      segregating themselves.
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16
Wrap your arms about me, as we ride across this desolate land. Pull me close and never let me go. Place your gentle hands in the chinks of my armor, to stifle the torrent of pain, flowing from the wounds I bear inside. Feel the quake of life against your palms as your precious heart trembles against my back. Restlessly I roamed in search of you, thinking to rescue you from perils I imagined all around. I sought to prove myself by being your salvation. As if I would slay the ferocious dragon that was holding you captive, and sweep you off of your feet, to gallop into the falling sun. What I found instead, as I rode beneath the barren sky, with naught but the bloodless moon for company, was the dragon coiled within my cage of ribs, burning a hole through my chest, melting my core, consuming me with a flaming tongue that I was too numb to feel. Although the adversity I carried, was the only real foe, frailty would not allow me, to  fell this loathsome beat within. Swaddled in my illusions, just a wretched fool, not worthy even of pity, jousting at windmills in my dreams. Somewhere along my demented journey, you glimpsed this madman, fighting through his world of fantasy, swinging his sword at the demons of his own creation. To laugh at such a jester, would have been your due, but instead of derision you bestowed compassion, and mercy in the place of mirth. Reaching through the shroud of lunacy, segregating me from truth, you plucked the devil from my breast, and replaced it with the soul I did not know I lacked. Now I understand that it was not you in need of succor, for I was the one who was lost. Unable to perceive you through the fog of my mind. But you were always out there, waiting patiently, for me to let you find me, and deliver me from myself.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Anosognosia
Wrap your arms about me, as we ride across this desolate land. Pull me close and never let me go. Place your gentle hands in the chinks of my armor, to stifle the torrent of pain, flowing from the wounds I bear inside. Feel the quake of life against your palms as your precious heart trembles against my back. Restlessly I roamed in search of you, thinking to rescue you from perils I imagined all around. I sought to prove myself by being your salvation. As if I would slay the ferocious dragon that was holding you captive, and sweep you off of your feet, to gallop into the falling sun. What I found instead, as I rode beneath the barren sky, with naught but the bloodless moon for company, was the dragon coiled within my cage of ribs, burning a hole through my chest, melting my core, consuming me with a flaming tongue that I was too numb to feel. Although the adversity I carried, was the only real foe, frailty would not allow me, to  fell this loathsome beat within. Swaddled in my illusions, just a wretched fool, not worthy even of pity, jousting at windmills in my dreams. Somewhere along my demented journey, you glimpsed this madman, fighting through his world of fantasy, swinging his sword at the demons of his own creation. To laugh at such a jester, would have been your due, but instead of derision you bestowed compassion, and mercy in the place of mirth. Reaching through the shroud of lunacy, segregating me from truth, you plucked the devil from my breast, and replaced it with the soul I did not know I lacked. Now I understand that it was not you in need of succor, for I was the one who was lost. Unable to perceive you through the fog of my mind. But you were always out there, waiting patiently, for me to let you find me, and deliver me from myself.
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42
The day was great in the state, Hurry to your job, dont be late The Sun was shining The roses were red Walls of happiness Do this, not that, stand up, lie flat The orders were clear, for every guy Everything was fine, then one asked why? Piercing sound, thumping sound And the Sun was shining, on hopeless faces The roses were red, from blood Walls of happiness, segregating classes and races The state is your new God And on the corpses of others, that asked why There he lies, that’s the guy No need to cry, no need to mourn His bones build the foundations- of a New Society Reborn
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Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 5:19 AM UTC
Utopia
Sadness has always been a legacy of the past, but isn't that because we dwell on it too much? Over trivial matters, our minds will become restless, we'll lose sleep - only to find ourselves in a worse case than what we were in before. We rewind those fragments of conversations and utter them, singling out every little detail, recalling our emotions and feelings, recreating that scene once more...over a million times we'll try but that's never how the real conversation will go, is it? It will be an example of your yet to come worst case scenario. Anticipation will sink in and you'll find yourself contorted with a dilemma, segregating your brain from your heart. This is where the logic doesn't kick in. For the brain knows what's best, yet the heart knows how it will content you. In the end, whatever twisted decision you have to make, you have to live with it. For regrets are simply the pains of the memory. It's intriguing how certain memories have the ability to control your emotions, your life today as you know it. They force you to feel sadness, worthlessness, hatred, resentment, anger - yet can be thwarted to make you feel content, proud, happy, special and can lift your mood in an instant. See, that's why these 'memories' make us smile in the middle of troubled times to provide us with hope that everything happens for a reason. Which it does, which is why dwelling on the past isn't giving us the ability to face our tomorrow, it's merely steering us away from it. For instance, if you tell a joke, people will laugh; as you continue telling this joke again and again, few people will continue to laugh, until everyone stops. If we can't laugh at the same thing over and over again, why do we spend our nights crying over the same things over and over again? Leave behind the dwellings and live life with no regrets. ✌
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC
Sadness...
Sadness has always been a legacy of the past, but isn't that because we dwell on it too much? Over trivial matters, our minds will become restless, we'll lose sleep - only to find ourselves in a worse case than what we were in before. We rewind those fragments of conversations and utter them, singling out every little detail, recalling our emotions and feelings, recreating that scene once more...over a million times we'll try but that's never how the real conversation will go, is it? It will be an example of your yet to come worst case scenario. Anticipation will sink in and you'll find yourself contorted with a dilemma, segregating your brain from your heart. This is where the logic doesn't kick in. For the brain knows what's best, yet the heart knows how it will content you. In the end, whatever twisted decision you have to make, you have to live with it. For regrets are simply the pains of the memory. It's intriguing how certain memories have the ability to control your emotions, your life today as you know it. They force you to feel sadness, worthlessness, hatred, resentment, anger - yet can be thwarted to make you feel content, proud, happy, special and can lift your mood in an instant. See, that's why these 'memories' make us smile in the middle of troubled times to provide us with hope that everything happens for a reason. Which it does, which is why dwelling on the past isn't giving us the ability to face our tomorrow, it's merely steering us away from it. For instance, if you tell a joke, people will laugh; as you continue telling this joke again and again, few people will continue to laugh, until everyone stops. If we can't laugh at the same thing over and over again, why do we spend our nights crying over the same things over and over again? Leave behind the dwellings and live life with no regrets. ✌
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it really is an actual word, it's translatable as something between nudist, and a man walking with his torso showing...          there's a lot of idiosyncrasy involved -              etymology serves thus:                   nagi - which has a male pronoun differentiation -                            the female counterpart?                                             naga.                  Nagasaki?                                         toot p'ah... a french variation into making a frown: hą hą hą.....                                                              że sł'i! so... the word of vector imbeciles...                                   nygus....    there's real geopolitik involved....             real places, real people... isolated people... which probably experienced the wrath of the wehrmacht and the soviets....               real people, real places...      hence the idiosyncrasy....                              linguistics aside, much more fun than talking about chimps,         in all earnest honesty...                  chimps? chimps?!                                only fools and broken branches? by now i'm starting to think:                    (i'm drunk, so)     :                            what the **** are you on about?!       i sense no use of l.s.d. - so... what the **** i don't get them, those bewildered westerners...      they didn't see the second coming in 1945              with the unearthing of the nag hammadi library? o right... the word in question: nygus...        nygus -                         **** knows where that came from... probably siberia, but even that is uncertain...              it could actually mean a half clad man... a man exposing his torso....                                nygus.... nagi...                                                    (male)....                                    naga                                        (female)... it's actually quiet fun watching western civilisation rot in the linguistic hell-hole it's at...                             i.e. how pronouns don't translate or simply aren't incorporated into other                                    grammatical categorisations... so... as a pole, if i had to resurrect myself, would i place the genesis at auschwitz...                                          or at marienburg? never mind the question, the word nygus still bothers me... it's specific to a geopolitical locality,              it is locality, per se....                                      it has no basic meaning in the location i now occupy...                               and it has no direct confrontation with being applied for a desirable purpose...       what i'm seeing in discussion these days is akin to the seperation of church from state...      but on a more abstract canvas:       subject from object... which really is covert                                                                   for attaché: and that's what it will always be, should the feat be given a historical allowance of a century's worth of dispute. it was clear in the first place:        church and state...                                        |                                     the vatican as a church-state;     but those are "real" bodies, in that they are diplomatic, and therefore bureaucratic...         this next divorce? i.e. the subject from the object? my intestines have no knowledge of my brain, and my brain has no knowledge of my pancreas...                i do think the state segregating itself from the church was a decent checkmate....         but enforcing this objective positivism...   i.e. ****** subjectivity?                                   the divorce is going to be as violent as that in the historical framework of the seperation of church from state;      although "less" violent,                     in that: more suicidal among the young.
0
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
nygus
it really is an actual word, it's translatable as something between nudist, and a man walking with his torso showing...          there's a lot of idiosyncrasy involved -              etymology serves thus:                   nagi - which has a male pronoun differentiation -                            the female counterpart?                                             naga.                  Nagasaki?                                         toot p'ah... a french variation into making a frown: hą hą hą.....                                                              że sł'i! so... the word of vector imbeciles...                                   nygus....    there's real geopolitik involved....             real places, real people... isolated people... which probably experienced the wrath of the wehrmacht and the soviets....               real people, real places...      hence the idiosyncrasy....                              linguistics aside, much more fun than talking about chimps,         in all earnest honesty...                  chimps? chimps?!                                only fools and broken branches? by now i'm starting to think:                    (i'm drunk, so)     :                            what the **** are you on about?!       i sense no use of l.s.d. - so... what the **** i don't get them, those bewildered westerners...      they didn't see the second coming in 1945              with the unearthing of the nag hammadi library? o right... the word in question: nygus...        nygus -                         **** knows where that came from... probably siberia, but even that is uncertain...              it could actually mean a half clad man... a man exposing his torso....                                nygus.... nagi...                                                    (male)....                                    naga                                        (female)... it's actually quiet fun watching western civilisation rot in the linguistic hell-hole it's at...                             i.e. how pronouns don't translate or simply aren't incorporated into other                                    grammatical categorisations... so... as a pole, if i had to resurrect myself, would i place the genesis at auschwitz...                                          or at marienburg? never mind the question, the word nygus still bothers me... it's specific to a geopolitical locality,              it is locality, per se....                                      it has no basic meaning in the location i now occupy...                               and it has no direct confrontation with being applied for a desirable purpose...       what i'm seeing in discussion these days is akin to the seperation of church from state...      but on a more abstract canvas:       subject from object... which really is covert                                                                   for attaché: and that's what it will always be, should the feat be given a historical allowance of a century's worth of dispute. it was clear in the first place:        church and state...                                        |                                     the vatican as a church-state;     but those are "real" bodies, in that they are diplomatic, and therefore bureaucratic...         this next divorce? i.e. the subject from the object? my intestines have no knowledge of my brain, and my brain has no knowledge of my pancreas...                i do think the state segregating itself from the church was a decent checkmate....         but enforcing this objective positivism...   i.e. ****** subjectivity?                                   the divorce is going to be as violent as that in the historical framework of the seperation of church from state;      although "less" violent,                     in that: more suicidal among the young.
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83