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"serendipitously" poems
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
golden bronze amber
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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2
In the purple ocean deep You came to us serendipitously Became a filter of our lives Took a promise as "Love Yourself" Seeing our universe from your smile Gazing at your unique style Cuter and sweeter than honeyed mochi Or warmer than the sultry sun The ability of your duality starts By melting all the ARMYs hearts You are the Prince of Busan Jiminah!
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Oct 13, 2021
Oct 13, 2021 at 4:50 AM UTC
Prince of Busan
I never could quite imagine the day When a creature quite as wry and presumptuous Would break so serendipitously. She lay ruptured in the desultory plantation The Stygian colour of her fur rebelled against the sage of the contiguous earth And her eyes mimicked nothing but the pain that consumed her current thoughts. Her body was transfixed in an inert trance The fur on her hunched spine quavered in a subdued zephyr Quiet insecurities were hid well in her tranquil pained state. The moon intently watched me Waiting for me to alleviate the agonized entity But solicitousness was blank in my frozen psyche. The moonlight pierced the fox with intimacy I grimaced in the realization I had failed the universe With my perennial void mind broken in vain. The fox gathered some stoicism The blessing of the moon granted requital As the fox proceeded to maul my perception. I accepted my retribution with ratification As I was the soul who violated the creature A skirmish that clung to grandeur.
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
Wounded Black Fox
What I mean by bad is not good. Trust me, what I mean by bad-it's not good. Into every discernible instance- we split them up by seconds- I fell, serendipitously. No one had ever made a mistake so gracefully. There is a trick to this. *Steph, hey Steph, you better bear my blunder now. Steph, hey Steph, you better call your cardinal because my counts are no show now. Steph, hey Steph, I just heard a ****** story, hurry, I'm freaking, I'm seeking you out. Steph, hey Steph, I better come pick up those sunflowers I left in your bed now.*
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Call Your Cardinal
It’s more than friendship for us. We’re closer than that. we never needed the same blood to call each other brothers. We bleed similar ideas and thoughts, like telepathy is our only way to communicate. We’re linked in ways most will never know, See, we’re cut from a different cloth. In our ragged robes we feel like kings because we know we have the greatest jester at our sides. Mind that this is a love poem, love for my friend, my brother, my phone call at 1 am, chatting about everything and anything. I never walked down streets with such confidence before. his are my guard rail, stopping me from slippery streets and inattentive eyes. I don’t think we can count the times we’ve defined our code. It’s not a code of arms, we don’t need to arm ourselves with each other at our sides. I’ve gone from the boy I was to a man I want to be, thanks to him. I don’t think he’ll ever understand how much he’s done for me. It’s been such roller coaster ride, dating best friends and losing loves, we stuck by each other, Spartan warriors would be proud. He’s like a spider web. Hidden in small spaces of serenity. He catches anything that we need to survive and destroys anything that could harm me. serendipitously our friendship evolved like Pikachu and Squirtile. We have that Pokemon type of bond, I’ll choose you, every time. No one will understand when I say, Saving him from SunKist liquids is our defining “broment.” See, in that moment having a bottle rise to his lips, I knew that he needed me to tell him the dangers that lie ahead, as he’s have done for me countless time. Now, It could have been the time you told me you hated me in middle school, or the time you tried to save me from a fire breathing dragon. He became the one person I can count on, in a world where a clock ticks too quickly. It’s you and me against the world, They don’t know what they got themselves into. We are soldiers, brothers at battle, we start wars with words because our poetic voices are needed in the struggles of a lost generation. But, we don’t need to take up arms, we pick pens and write the words that no one has the heart to say. Our words prove that we never needed the same blood to call each other brothers. Because it’s more than friendship for us. We’re closer than that.
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Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
My Bro
It’s more than friendship for us. We’re closer than that. we never needed the same blood to call each other brothers. We bleed similar ideas and thoughts, like telepathy is our only way to communicate. We’re linked in ways most will never know, See, we’re cut from a different cloth. In our ragged robes we feel like kings because we know we have the greatest jester at our sides. Mind that this is a love poem, love for my friend, my brother, my phone call at 1 am, chatting about everything and anything. I never walked down streets with such confidence before. his are my guard rail, stopping me from slippery streets and inattentive eyes. I don’t think we can count the times we’ve defined our code. It’s not a code of arms, we don’t need to arm ourselves with each other at our sides. I’ve gone from the boy I was to a man I want to be, thanks to him. I don’t think he’ll ever understand how much he’s done for me. It’s been such roller coaster ride, dating best friends and losing loves, we stuck by each other, Spartan warriors would be proud. He’s like a spider web. Hidden in small spaces of serenity. He catches anything that we need to survive and destroys anything that could harm me. serendipitously our friendship evolved like Pikachu and Squirtile. We have that Pokemon type of bond, I’ll choose you, every time. No one will understand when I say, Saving him from SunKist liquids is our defining “broment.” See, in that moment having a bottle rise to his lips, I knew that he needed me to tell him the dangers that lie ahead, as he’s have done for me countless time. Now, It could have been the time you told me you hated me in middle school, or the time you tried to save me from a fire breathing dragon. He became the one person I can count on, in a world where a clock ticks too quickly. It’s you and me against the world, They don’t know what they got themselves into. We are soldiers, brothers at battle, we start wars with words because our poetic voices are needed in the struggles of a lost generation. But, we don’t need to take up arms, we pick pens and write the words that no one has the heart to say. Our words prove that we never needed the same blood to call each other brothers. Because it’s more than friendship for us. We’re closer than that.
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1
Are we to reject a greater unity for the sake of a superficial sovereignty. For does not the richness of every need its canvas. And every flower deserve a special place in the garden. As every star sits in the nights sky belonging to a constellation. I never hear them complaining only gently sparkling. Are we to reverse down a dark alley not knowing where we are going. Do we wish to offer a clenched fist or are we to open our hand and heart. Have we become so inwardly looking that we switch of our lights close our eyes as a room full of blind nations continue to fight. Are we to be influenced by papers that serendipitously cloud the difference between EU immigrants and Syrian refugee's. As Rupert Murdoch and corperate power divides and conquers. Trillions gather of shore sit on the world like a giant cancer and all we do is fight with each other. As they in circle us with their power we become the entertainment at their coliseum. Or do we pour love within the gaps becoming all so much closer bringing back all our power. Are we to live in a shrinking world where other people's problems do not matter. Is it time to close our eyes or time to look in the mirror. Out out out keep the bad guys out as though our hands were clean that we had never done anything wrong. Are we we to cling to a penny pinching surface or delve into the depths of our character looking for a deeper treasure that truly matters. Will not the true values of our heart not proper when connected more deeply on the inside and out. By clinging to a superficial sovereignty we may find ourselves also clinging to a wobbly mast. As our island drifts of into a rough sea we maybe to involved with surviving that we forget who we truly are.
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
SUPERFICIAL SOVEREIGNTY AGAINST A DEEPER SELF-EXPRESSION
Are we to reject a greater unity for the sake of a superficial sovereignty. For does not the richness of every need its canvas. And every flower deserve a special place in the garden. As every star sits in the nights sky belonging to a constellation. I never hear them complaining only gently sparkling. Are we to reverse down a dark alley not knowing where we are going. Do we wish to offer a clenched fist or are we to open our hand and heart. Have we become so inwardly looking that we switch of our lights close our eyes as a room full of blind nations continue to fight. Are we to be influenced by papers that serendipitously cloud the difference between EU immigrants and Syrian refugee's. As Rupert Murdoch and corperate power divides and conquers. Trillions gather of shore sit on the world like a giant cancer and all we do is fight with each other. As they in circle us with their power we become the entertainment at their coliseum. Or do we pour love within the gaps becoming all so much closer bringing back all our power. Are we to live in a shrinking world where other people's problems do not matter. Is it time to close our eyes or time to look in the mirror. Out out out keep the bad guys out as though our hands were clean that we had never done anything wrong. Are we we to cling to a penny pinching surface or delve into the depths of our character looking for a deeper treasure that truly matters. Will not the true values of our heart not proper when connected more deeply on the inside and out. By clinging to a superficial sovereignty we may find ourselves also clinging to a wobbly mast. As our island drifts of into a rough sea we maybe to involved with surviving that we forget who we truly are.
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49
From the helter skelter In a helter skelter dash For solitude at the esker I strayed in a labyrinth Of dark soaring woods Here-upon, trees begun to move! An optical illusion it seemed to be, Though a moment my eyes did love; But in a mean time, out of kilter Was the avenue to the esker. Wandering midst soaring woods Serendipitously there I beheld An elegant creature, A creature with a velvety Pale unblemished skin, Lilly white as porcelain, Gaily yet opalescent as an opal, With curling glossy auburn hair, Mellifluously whispering a lullaby With verve in the wanton air Whilst flapping her wings To take wing. On feasting about her impeccable face, It thus dawned upon me: "She was not of this our world But an alien, an angel rom outer space." Swiftly, I gravitated towards her And unto her said I was lost, Lost like leaves beneath the frost Upon my way for solitude at the esker However the sheer cynosure She'd taken my fancy Hence moonstruck for sure. She gagged me, cwtched me, Enveloped me in her wings And merrily took wing Whilst I gallantly kissed, Kissed her nectar kisser. Past mullbery skies we soared, All the way unto her land of bliss Where upon we swam naked, Naked in halcyon waters, Waters of her land. Together, we made poetry Of love and life so blind, Cherishing moment after moment One could search forever to find, Whilst gallivanting from star to star, Only alone by ourselves on yonder To a very distant colourful clime, Yonder beyond restrictions of time.
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Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
MOONSTRUCK (EPIC)
From the helter skelter In a helter skelter dash For solitude at the esker I strayed in a labyrinth Of dark soaring woods Here-upon, trees begun to move! An optical illusion it seemed to be, Though a moment my eyes did love; But in a mean time, out of kilter Was the avenue to the esker. Wandering midst soaring woods Serendipitously there I beheld An elegant creature, A creature with a velvety Pale unblemished skin, Lilly white as porcelain, Gaily yet opalescent as an opal, With curling glossy auburn hair, Mellifluously whispering a lullaby With verve in the wanton air Whilst flapping her wings To take wing. On feasting about her impeccable face, It thus dawned upon me: "She was not of this our world But an alien, an angel rom outer space." Swiftly, I gravitated towards her And unto her said I was lost, Lost like leaves beneath the frost Upon my way for solitude at the esker However the sheer cynosure She'd taken my fancy Hence moonstruck for sure. She gagged me, cwtched me, Enveloped me in her wings And merrily took wing Whilst I gallantly kissed, Kissed her nectar kisser. Past mullbery skies we soared, All the way unto her land of bliss Where upon we swam naked, Naked in halcyon waters, Waters of her land. Together, we made poetry Of love and life so blind, Cherishing moment after moment One could search forever to find, Whilst gallivanting from star to star, Only alone by ourselves on yonder To a very distant colourful clime, Yonder beyond restrictions of time.
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51
THE OTHER DAY IN THE PARK I SPIED A WHITE SQUIRREL! LATER: We remember a past life, later she opens her heart completely; gratitude beats out! I Cry. She Cries. *THIS SCENE PLAYS OUT IN THE KITCHEN OF THE TOUR GUIDE THROUGH THE MATRIX, WHERE SHIPIBO PATTERNS ALIGN THE INSIDE OF HIS LOFTY DEN.* The Tour Guide introduced us to the timeless Oracle Pixie Swan who paints 10 years into the future. FOR DINNER: we weave golden sunset light in good convo's about the human experience unplugging  the people. IN THE MORNING: we watch the gray clouds burn away as they slowly unzip the sun unto a quiet Toronto cityscape. We run into old friends serendipitously pin-balling from all over the world yet conversations continue, with some new jokes & banter about mistaking white squirrels & seagulls but overall, talking the same magical words as we are with our old soul timer families. ----- THROUGHOUT THE DAY: How grateful we are to be blessed with a life of travel & living creatively while a few live vicariously through our mostly unplannet planned adventures spanning warm shores of Bali to cold pole warm toes in Toronto. How grateful our beings made whole holy feel. -----
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May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
A BRIEF PLAY; Entitled: White Squirrel Adventures
I listen to the whine of time That goes in a line, a climb, A silent sign wave; fine Resonant and resilient, Nearly sentient, it reminds Of times of meditation, Of peaceful celebration Like music with no beat, No melody and no lyrics No clerics can well describe. Whatever remains of before I ignore; ideas like yesterday Which is to say tomorrow, Bring no sorrow here, no joy. They are a ploy to change, To rearrange the apogee Of this lovely inner symphony And bribe me with self-pity In sympathy with some dream Which once made me scream. I imbibe in the circumstance, A chance to muse on forever; Words like never and regret I forget and only think of serenity. A rarity; an affinity with infinity Entices me to surrender instantly Serendipitously and trustingly, Just me and the universe Chapter and verse, still unwritten, Unbidden, I surrender.
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
MIND MUSIC
If you write, You will realize monstrous things about Yourself and instead of disappearing they Will become more eloquent and delicately Marble carved with years If you write, You will hear voices, so many voices Hypothetical and begging with pain in their Breath to be made real and feel and **** and die Only you will see their funeral, know their laugh If you write, You will cry oil spills, ***** fruit salad **** rainbows and beg for grey, murky, bland The depths pressure crushing; gasping through the highs The concept mood stretched, you are alive, alive, alive If you write, Your shutter flashes double photoed through the day Will capture the minutia, have your living stuck in past Endless film rolls overstimulated, document and shelve Closing eyes, retroactive architect works back You should write because To create is to love is to master the manifest Ink your livelihood eternal, ivory-flesh crumbles and decays There are those that love the idea of you You left footprints in the sand Because When the silver screaming godgasm hits You serendipitously and a moment Feels worth writing down Things can be right for a while You will fall in love Everywhere you go and Nothing will seem real You will taste redemption in the Crunch of an apple or smell wisdom At the zoo
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Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
165. Zoo 4/4/13
Music fails God turns a blind eye If only for a moment Lost to me forever I asked my friend to fill me in This season out of time Out of touch and out of mind He knew all the clues and the juicy details Tasked to remember that night For this moment of truth Serendipitously placed in this time and space To remind me of days soon faded away To shine the bright light of cold reason With all I believed I never conceived I was capable of ****** But when my head was pulled from the dream The static uncertainty shocked me A mean and relentless electricity I couldn't fool or convince myself I was part of this world Far from the gaze of YWVH's stare My friend tried to pull me out To wake me from this violent dream Eyes wide open, he wondered what I'd seen I saw him the carrion hungry to feed Miserable mercury, come to tell me the game had only just begun A player on a vast stage, told to hunt me down Bring me back to square one, full circle 'round After so many years I'd tried to forget The paranoia that read others' thoughts and words As encouragement to me, but all that I heard Were lies and cruel manipulations designed To build up my hopes cuz the higher they flew The harder they fell It's what they liked to do So I turned on my friend, neither he or the Lord Would put me through that again I would have killed him I would have broken every bone in his body I told him as much The only thing I remembered, until now, Was the cop right behind me and the cuffs 'round my wrists That and silently wondering why And what all had happened when God closed His eye Silently riding along the state highway Sitting uncomfortable, metal at my spine The cop turned on the radio I didn't think they could do that Grateful Dead, "Friend of the Devil" I smiled It sounded good
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
The Old Familiar (featuring alignment to the right this time)
Music fails God turns a blind eye If only for a moment Lost to me forever I asked my friend to fill me in This season out of time Out of touch and out of mind He knew all the clues and the juicy details Tasked to remember that night For this moment of truth Serendipitously placed in this time and space To remind me of days soon faded away To shine the bright light of cold reason With all I believed I never conceived I was capable of ****** But when my head was pulled from the dream The static uncertainty shocked me A mean and relentless electricity I couldn't fool or convince myself I was part of this world Far from the gaze of YWVH's stare My friend tried to pull me out To wake me from this violent dream Eyes wide open, he wondered what I'd seen I saw him the carrion hungry to feed Miserable mercury, come to tell me the game had only just begun A player on a vast stage, told to hunt me down Bring me back to square one, full circle 'round After so many years I'd tried to forget The paranoia that read others' thoughts and words As encouragement to me, but all that I heard Were lies and cruel manipulations designed To build up my hopes cuz the higher they flew The harder they fell It's what they liked to do So I turned on my friend, neither he or the Lord Would put me through that again I would have killed him I would have broken every bone in his body I told him as much The only thing I remembered, until now, Was the cop right behind me and the cuffs 'round my wrists That and silently wondering why And what all had happened when God closed His eye Silently riding along the state highway Sitting uncomfortable, metal at my spine The cop turned on the radio I didn't think they could do that Grateful Dead, "Friend of the Devil" I smiled It sounded good
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51
Ninety nine percent of thee Might be feeling naught for me Which unbearably doth hurt. However, one percent of thy heart Serendipitously could be! Well, all I crave is: "That one percent." ©Kikodinho Alexandros Jumeira, Dubai 27th December 2016
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Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
ONE PERCENT
they exist in perfect stillness, surrounded by flowing water and comforting earth-- the tree extends it's spider legs serendipitously over casual rocks and crevices to reach the Mother's stream of which life truly flows-- they come to heal heavy hearts beneath the warmth of winter's light rays-- blessed anew, they carry on--
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
ebb and flow
Towers tumble, egos fall My house, is on fire But I will not get there Chest squeezing in despair   My heart is breaking The ropes are slipping And life is disappearing Just keeps on racing Been such a fool Always born a tool Paddled and paddled but Yet so wasteful, in my toil   I had to spoil Just missed the bus There goes my train The enemy scores again Though my legs how insane   Keep on falling My heart is calling A tumble **** Just keeps on rolling Spent so long Looking for answers In places that had none   The harder I try The more I cry As I am suddenly awoken surrounded by costume An actors changing room Never learnt my words But there is a Blissful realization When you see your Life just slipping Out of site, far away Down the drain As abandoned waters are lifted A myriad of moonlight sparkles Scattered sent shimmering Cascading across my waters I feel no need in responding   When I am humbled powerless out of control My life vanishing   A black hole A dark void I have to ask did I loose my life or did I just Serendipitously just FIND IT
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
FIND IT
Serendipitously there she was Peeking just around the corner, From behind the moon; Breathing softly, but Breathing Love. Breathing, But softly breathing; The moon behind, from The corner around just peeking; Was she there serendipitously?
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Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
Angel Of My Dreams (palindrome)
The boys ran After the ball exploded The bedroom window. Shattered glass shards In indiscriminate flight. The ants re-grouped To build after The red-cherry erupted The hill like Pompei, Scattering serendipitously. Grimmacing quarter moon Pumpkins lay in hodge-podge Pieces on All Saints Day. Suitcases, clothes and neckties Stewn on a runway Like a kid's bedroom. We move from order to chaos, Like the third light On a match. I was lead to believe Displacement Laws, Science, and regular Bowels could explain Explosions, So we can lift the stones On Salisbury and Newgrange, Or re-arrange grains of sand With projected order. We only have a beginning And an end, while living Through the explosions.
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May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
Big Bangs
**** You, Evangeline I hated you in the seventh grade When you were pushed on me at school And broke my rib, As I badmouthed you on the monkeyswings. But quickly I learned Not from mom or sister That to be a man is different than Hollywood and Disneyland Nothing Loves, Actually; Forever calls— Very quickly It seems That I go from adorable to expendable Serendipitously, With a bit of mandated mail And affairs with Eros’ bureaus of State Back then I played with chitinous bugs Baiting them fluffy placentas of budding trees And stalked them back to their cave Before I knew my felonies But I was a baby, A child—I never could have known what it means. But of course I do, I’ve seen the running of the bulls The utterance of men They are angry and gouge ******* with cold vicegrips around their ****** And are kicked Mercilessly Spurned to wrathful affectation To be murdered in the evening With rapturous spectation “But they are bulls!” Of course they are "These feelings are only natural!" No man can equate With the pleasurable temptations of the state Not bird or bug or steer or doe The only Hierarchy permissible Is of the animals And of that we hate I don’t see you woeing About that steak on your plate. Or the Glue in the soles of your shoes. Stroll a bit Sniff the trees Whiff the ******** When it’s in the feed He runs in circles shouting, chanting “Oye, Oye, Aye Piche Cabrone!” As the solo mothers cut his lengua for the starving Ninos In an apartment complex off Oxenhoof Lane Where Papi got iced By I.C.E or the like And the kiddies will never know what it means. You’ll never know what it means To be a bull Muster your might for this—demand with laughter you die I am an ant in the ever-washed hive Of sterile kin who have no lives They give for their queen or infectious despot with wings Despite all the kindness they've given me, I am not ready to be meat for the feet. In every blade of grass I've faith That no bird or sin will ****** me from my place And into the sky or the unsatiated mouth of the various Disunified highs For now I share the toil and vitriolic Callous Jowls of those who hate themselves More than me And try to smile and bring food for the queen But deep inside I am an ant And that is all you will ever see.
0
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 1:46 PM UTC
Man, Unmade
**** You, Evangeline I hated you in the seventh grade When you were pushed on me at school And broke my rib, As I badmouthed you on the monkeyswings. But quickly I learned Not from mom or sister That to be a man is different than Hollywood and Disneyland Nothing Loves, Actually; Forever calls— Very quickly It seems That I go from adorable to expendable Serendipitously, With a bit of mandated mail And affairs with Eros’ bureaus of State Back then I played with chitinous bugs Baiting them fluffy placentas of budding trees And stalked them back to their cave Before I knew my felonies But I was a baby, A child—I never could have known what it means. But of course I do, I’ve seen the running of the bulls The utterance of men They are angry and gouge ******* with cold vicegrips around their ****** And are kicked Mercilessly Spurned to wrathful affectation To be murdered in the evening With rapturous spectation “But they are bulls!” Of course they are "These feelings are only natural!" No man can equate With the pleasurable temptations of the state Not bird or bug or steer or doe The only Hierarchy permissible Is of the animals And of that we hate I don’t see you woeing About that steak on your plate. Or the Glue in the soles of your shoes. Stroll a bit Sniff the trees Whiff the ******** When it’s in the feed He runs in circles shouting, chanting “Oye, Oye, Aye Piche Cabrone!” As the solo mothers cut his lengua for the starving Ninos In an apartment complex off Oxenhoof Lane Where Papi got iced By I.C.E or the like And the kiddies will never know what it means. You’ll never know what it means To be a bull Muster your might for this—demand with laughter you die I am an ant in the ever-washed hive Of sterile kin who have no lives They give for their queen or infectious despot with wings Despite all the kindness they've given me, I am not ready to be meat for the feet. In every blade of grass I've faith That no bird or sin will ****** me from my place And into the sky or the unsatiated mouth of the various Disunified highs For now I share the toil and vitriolic Callous Jowls of those who hate themselves More than me And try to smile and bring food for the queen But deep inside I am an ant And that is all you will ever see.
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Once, Love doves Deeply in love Began to write A lullaby in delight Reflections of their history Nothing but a fantastic story Promises of being each other's number One, always beside each other as they slumber Whilst listening to dulcet tunes of harmony Of Nightingales whispering a symphony Giving each other a life of joy and laughter Promising to love each other for ever after To each others ***** embrace as to fly Merrily towards velvet skies up so high Only alone by themselves to a paradise Where the sun doth beautifully rise Upon streets paved with green and gold Such ethereal pulchritude to behold Surf evenings of carnal pleasures Thus delve into all the worlds' treasures Naked in the aura of the midnight luster Undulating to the rhythm of stars in a cluster Whilst lying on verdant greener grass Under a silvery crystal clear moon as a glass Neath sycamore shadows Beside  beauteous meadows Exploring moments to forever stay And never to ever, ever fade away Having a splash in a cool fresh stream Of everlasting love now but a dream Since one dove did fly away Mercilessly to the very far away Left the other to languish In a world of relentless anguish With a heart shattered beyond repair Where he drowns in a sea of despair Whilst reminiscing of a golden chance Once he had tasting of sweetest romance, Plus golden days and nights whilst together In a paradise of exquisite pleasant weather And high above frisky clouds Stars now come in crowds Painting their history Now but a mystery Left with nothing, as he prays Whilst gazing at leafy sprays Extremely lovingly embellished Inscribed with poems she relished He thus feels the pain Alone in the heavy rain And nothing but tears Drenching him in fear Whilst sitting underneath the sycamore Longing for his love now and forevermore However, serendipitously one night Whilst drenched in despair, an ethereal of light Appeared, touched his heart with Hope Shadows of fear, afraid of light couldn't cope Mustered courage to go beyond all measures Neath to the Atlantis for his lost treasure Thus like Pluto, distant from the sun Relationships he chose to shun Only longing for his only dove She who was but his true love © Kikodinho Alexandros Jumeira, Dubai 20th July 2016
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
A tale of love doves
Once, Love doves Deeply in love Began to write A lullaby in delight Reflections of their history Nothing but a fantastic story Promises of being each other's number One, always beside each other as they slumber Whilst listening to dulcet tunes of harmony Of Nightingales whispering a symphony Giving each other a life of joy and laughter Promising to love each other for ever after To each others ***** embrace as to fly Merrily towards velvet skies up so high Only alone by themselves to a paradise Where the sun doth beautifully rise Upon streets paved with green and gold Such ethereal pulchritude to behold Surf evenings of carnal pleasures Thus delve into all the worlds' treasures Naked in the aura of the midnight luster Undulating to the rhythm of stars in a cluster Whilst lying on verdant greener grass Under a silvery crystal clear moon as a glass Neath sycamore shadows Beside  beauteous meadows Exploring moments to forever stay And never to ever, ever fade away Having a splash in a cool fresh stream Of everlasting love now but a dream Since one dove did fly away Mercilessly to the very far away Left the other to languish In a world of relentless anguish With a heart shattered beyond repair Where he drowns in a sea of despair Whilst reminiscing of a golden chance Once he had tasting of sweetest romance, Plus golden days and nights whilst together In a paradise of exquisite pleasant weather And high above frisky clouds Stars now come in crowds Painting their history Now but a mystery Left with nothing, as he prays Whilst gazing at leafy sprays Extremely lovingly embellished Inscribed with poems she relished He thus feels the pain Alone in the heavy rain And nothing but tears Drenching him in fear Whilst sitting underneath the sycamore Longing for his love now and forevermore However, serendipitously one night Whilst drenched in despair, an ethereal of light Appeared, touched his heart with Hope Shadows of fear, afraid of light couldn't cope Mustered courage to go beyond all measures Neath to the Atlantis for his lost treasure Thus like Pluto, distant from the sun Relationships he chose to shun Only longing for his only dove She who was but his true love © Kikodinho Alexandros Jumeira, Dubai 20th July 2016
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68
Spectacle! Spectacle! Spectacle! Upon thee I feast   as your willing receptacle thou art my bread's yeast! Fill me with fear and with grief and doubt Fill me with joy and with hope I may shout From atop a tall mount of my own dissolution And lull me to sleep with your grandiose illusion! Spectacle! Spectacle! Spectacle! DEAR! Help me make sludge into mead, crystal clear! Tell me my roles and opinions and thoughts! Sell me that which makes my deep emptiness naught! Oh, you our greatest omnipotent seer! Spectacle! Spectacle! Spectacle! CAUGHT! See what you've so serendipitously wrought! See how so boldly and wondrously you've taught! For without your guidance, what would be bought? What would be sold lest the gold you have brought? Spectacle! Spectacle! Spectacle! FRAUGHT! What would become of mass cultural trends? When means for themselves would desist and come ends? How could we possibly live without you When you are the arbiter of all that's True?
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Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 12:50 AM UTC
Spectacle
In our childhoods the biggest want and the most creative entertainment Were toys We whined We pined We begged We even bartered outrageously That we might serendipitously Find the strings The felt cloth The plastic so pristine Under a tree Or under our beds Or behind the backs of those who love us But even hours go by and The plastic shatters The felt tears The strings snap And the most regretful of all things The dust settles
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Dusty toys
It happens just because we need To want and be Wanted too Serendipitously here, spontaneously there, A true friend I've found in you. Now friends will come and some will last, but in the end so few; Are in actuality Ride or Dies Disappointingly it's proven true. Lucie my friend, has forced my hand To write my words of feeling For untill now there'd been no reason To attempt a written healing. ♡
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Jul 23, 2022
Jul 23, 2022 at 8:00 AM UTC
Łųčïê
that gurgling brown hunger you feel deep down it wasn’t you god knows who put it there no it’s only natural it was she who planted the initial seed grown up into a succulent leaf frowning nature abhors a vacuum and she wouldn’t couldn’t endear herself any more if you sustained such a saddeningly blank space she’s given you the device for devising wickedly clever ways of consuming it would be a godless shame to leave the engine idling now what you eat doesn’t mean as much as the act of eating itself actively naming god’s creatures great small may not give you dominion or merit ownership but ingesting them sure does dainty fingered sentimentality lost her privileged place when steely eyed invention serendipitously shoved a ****** cushion throne up to your table’s edge it’s a divine and kingly right to take your fill with hands nimbly fashioned for taking all that’s managed eon after eon to crawl out of a world engendering slime until there’s nothing left but the awful runny pallid mucous you’ll sneak back to sated at last
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Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
it's merely evilution, my dear
I am guilty of the sin of luck. Serendipitously born into wholeness. My head was filled with stars, the sun placed in my hands. And I never wanted more. Who decreed me the fortunate one? What stroke of fate, what hand of God? I am grateful. but why should I be whole when so many others are broken?
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Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
Sin of Luck
Sun-drenched in a smile between the dark hours of nine to four. I'm caffeinated by his loquacious charm, Easily awake for more. We are uninhibitedly excited and tangibly so. I am pacified listening to him loving to speak - His passion is potion for my perpetual anxiety. We kiss serendipitously the same. Sloppily making an important point, Intentions intensely plain. (Written January 2011)
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Untitled/Gray Flannel