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"soundcloud" poems
Do you also wake up in the middle of the night and almost reach for me because you forgot that I'm not there anymore? I slept next to someone else last night, But I had a dream that I was next to you, And I have never felt more disappointed in my life than in that moment when I woke up. I can't tell which is worse, the disappointment or Trying to sleep while holding myself together because it feels like everything is about to spill out of me. According to everyone I should just go meet someone else, but it's not that easy. I have no interest in talking to anyone when I'm sober, When I'm drunk I just end up telling everyone about you. I can't tell if I'm waiting for someone to confirm that you're never coming back Or for someone to lie to me so I can feel better for the night. Can I ***** out all my feelings too, along with the ***** I almost thought I had, the night I was dry heaving into the morning. That was the night I got so drunk I couldn't stop asking everyone I saw Why Didn't You Love Me? I'm sure all the strangers in the room thought I was crazy. I have dreams about you all the time and even in my dreams, You still don't love me. If I stare at your Facebook chat bubble long enough, Will I see the three dots of you beginning to type a message? If I stare out my window long enough, Will I see you walking towards my front door? I still want to punch a hole through the wall whenever I hear a song that you used to sing to me. That's become particularly annoying since the Chainsmokers got popular. Apparently I can't get over you while still listening to your SoundCloud playlists But I'm not sure what else is worth listening to. The other day, my friend commented on how fast I walk. I told him it was because I had gotten used to your speed since you're much taller than me. In reality, I think it's just to make up for the parts of my life that haven't been moving at all.
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Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
***** my feelings out
Do you also wake up in the middle of the night and almost reach for me because you forgot that I'm not there anymore? I slept next to someone else last night, But I had a dream that I was next to you, And I have never felt more disappointed in my life than in that moment when I woke up. I can't tell which is worse, the disappointment or Trying to sleep while holding myself together because it feels like everything is about to spill out of me. According to everyone I should just go meet someone else, but it's not that easy. I have no interest in talking to anyone when I'm sober, When I'm drunk I just end up telling everyone about you. I can't tell if I'm waiting for someone to confirm that you're never coming back Or for someone to lie to me so I can feel better for the night. Can I ***** out all my feelings too, along with the ***** I almost thought I had, the night I was dry heaving into the morning. That was the night I got so drunk I couldn't stop asking everyone I saw Why Didn't You Love Me? I'm sure all the strangers in the room thought I was crazy. I have dreams about you all the time and even in my dreams, You still don't love me. If I stare at your Facebook chat bubble long enough, Will I see the three dots of you beginning to type a message? If I stare out my window long enough, Will I see you walking towards my front door? I still want to punch a hole through the wall whenever I hear a song that you used to sing to me. That's become particularly annoying since the Chainsmokers got popular. Apparently I can't get over you while still listening to your SoundCloud playlists But I'm not sure what else is worth listening to. The other day, my friend commented on how fast I walk. I told him it was because I had gotten used to your speed since you're much taller than me. In reality, I think it's just to make up for the parts of my life that haven't been moving at all.
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39
Hey guys, I used Soundcloud to speak this last poem, please check it out: https://seshatwuji.wordpress.com/2015/03/14/mythweaving-our-way-to-happiness/
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
Mythweaving (Spoken-Word)
Flowing up to the surface Submerged under the waters.. Chocking gasping for a bit of air.. swollowing.. suffocating.. On Life.. sorrows_hardships.. Just can't even imagine the reasons behind the tragedies... Of what evils lurks in earthly places.. With the ability to rearrange and change peoples faces. After all the hearing and the witnessing. The feelings and the knowings. All the seeing of evils news.... I didnt realize I was chocking emotions deeply bruise. Anxiety snatching the ability to breath where its comfortable.. Breath normally.. Panic sneaks its way in..makes me uncomfortable in my skin. Pulse rushing pulsating. All of a sudden the sheer emotion of losing. Can't see another day lighting the way.. Soul feels the falling when you realize there's so much suffering.. Arms gone limp all passed out..From the exhaustion. This is when God holds yah in His arms. Calming down irregular heart beats. God breaths His air into you. His breath is your air.. as he breath Life back into you. Resuscitate He is the air you breath. Without Him you can't breath there's no air without Him. He pulls you up to this worlds surface.. This worldly ocean called life. Where day by day moments felt like drowning. He gives you inspiration and sets within you a song. Tells you to keep holding on.. Revive.. The ocean is still there but for now..I have been brought up to the surface. hear it on soundcloud copy n paste link below https://soundcloud.com/selinaros3y/atherbest-revive-0-1 S.A.M @h.e.r 2018
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 8:27 PM UTC
Revive!
Flowing up to the surface Submerged under the waters.. Chocking gasping for a bit of air.. swollowing.. suffocating.. On Life.. sorrows_hardships.. Just can't even imagine the reasons behind the tragedies... Of what evils lurks in earthly places.. With the ability to rearrange and change peoples faces. After all the hearing and the witnessing. The feelings and the knowings. All the seeing of evils news.... I didnt realize I was chocking emotions deeply bruise. Anxiety snatching the ability to breath where its comfortable.. Breath normally.. Panic sneaks its way in..makes me uncomfortable in my skin. Pulse rushing pulsating. All of a sudden the sheer emotion of losing. Can't see another day lighting the way.. Soul feels the falling when you realize there's so much suffering.. Arms gone limp all passed out..From the exhaustion. This is when God holds yah in His arms. Calming down irregular heart beats. God breaths His air into you. His breath is your air.. as he breath Life back into you. Resuscitate He is the air you breath. Without Him you can't breath there's no air without Him. He pulls you up to this worlds surface.. This worldly ocean called life. Where day by day moments felt like drowning. He gives you inspiration and sets within you a song. Tells you to keep holding on.. Revive.. The ocean is still there but for now..I have been brought up to the surface. hear it on soundcloud copy n paste link below https://soundcloud.com/selinaros3y/atherbest-revive-0-1 S.A.M @h.e.r 2018
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38
Volume 1 of the new trilogy came out today, 7/7/16, but won't be ready for sale until tomorrow. I'm deciding between 3 charities to donate all profits to, and they are, 'Human Rights Watch', 'V-Day', and 'No Means No Worldwide'; All three of these charities focus on preventing ****** assault on women and men, and are humanitarian based NGO's. If anyone has an opinion or feedback on which of these 3 charities I should choose, please let me know. ALSO, I have a 40 minutes song that I made with some of the material from the new book, and it's available FOR FREE to download on Soundcloud. Basically everything I do with poetry is given away for free, and if there are profits they go to charity. I do it for the Love not for the Money. Here is the song. Stay tuned for the book. Much Love & Respect ∆ https://soundcloud.com/americandreamin/aaron-lux-truth-live-sky-tower
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Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
SOME ADVICE FOR CHARITY PLEASE
I have been daydreaming my dream. Can I tell you what that is? Standing on a stage in front of a supremely silent crowd as I speak of my heart. My life. My God. JESUS CHRIST. This after performing the most righteous (hippie slang for awesome) music. Music I have written and SO long to share with the world. I have been preparing for this all my life. Even though I was raised an atheist. I've had this dream to stand up for something of the greatest impact, importance and beauty. I had this dream of Jesus Christ returning you see. When I was 10. I know His Spirit has never left. But He will return ****** I DREAMT THIS BEFORE I EVER READ THE BIBLE OR WENT TO CHURCH. He came to me in this dream. On a white horse and the Host behind Him. From the clouds they rode in pure GLORY! I could not see His face. But I sure heard His voice. Which said; "Cathy. I'm coming back. You and your family have to be READY". Maybe you are an unbeliever. But can you see how I would feel as I do? Also go to the site search engine. Type in "Salvation Story by SoulSurvivor". If this testimony doesn't move you nothing will. I want to share with the world how Jesus Christ literally saved my life. What better way than with music? The universal language. I have a dream. Of megalithic angels standing around the stadium. People in AWE! Not of me. *Of God*. My message? No more war. LOVE. REPENTANCE. LEVELING OF PRIDE. FORGIVENESS. I believe that God would not have put this in my heart if He didn't want to, at least, allow me to TRY! I have a dream. That i was broken. Then completely healed. In my BODY, MIND and SPIRIT. For 20 years God has been leveling my pride. It needed it. For 10 I've been writing poetry, music and songs. Now it's time. My music will be released on YouTube and Soundcloud next month. The links announced. I figure if you're gonna dream... **DREAM BiG**. Notice the little i in the middle of BiG? That's ME. If I get a big head *the weight of it will make me fall.* Will you support me? PRAY. Send good thoughts skyward. I'll need every last one. Thank you! ♥ Catherine
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Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
Preamble to a dream
I have been daydreaming my dream. Can I tell you what that is? Standing on a stage in front of a supremely silent crowd as I speak of my heart. My life. My God. JESUS CHRIST. This after performing the most righteous (hippie slang for awesome) music. Music I have written and SO long to share with the world. I have been preparing for this all my life. Even though I was raised an atheist. I've had this dream to stand up for something of the greatest impact, importance and beauty. I had this dream of Jesus Christ returning you see. When I was 10. I know His Spirit has never left. But He will return ****** I DREAMT THIS BEFORE I EVER READ THE BIBLE OR WENT TO CHURCH. He came to me in this dream. On a white horse and the Host behind Him. From the clouds they rode in pure GLORY! I could not see His face. But I sure heard His voice. Which said; "Cathy. I'm coming back. You and your family have to be READY". Maybe you are an unbeliever. But can you see how I would feel as I do? Also go to the site search engine. Type in "Salvation Story by SoulSurvivor". If this testimony doesn't move you nothing will. I want to share with the world how Jesus Christ literally saved my life. What better way than with music? The universal language. I have a dream. Of megalithic angels standing around the stadium. People in AWE! Not of me. *Of God*. My message? No more war. LOVE. REPENTANCE. LEVELING OF PRIDE. FORGIVENESS. I believe that God would not have put this in my heart if He didn't want to, at least, allow me to TRY! I have a dream. That i was broken. Then completely healed. In my BODY, MIND and SPIRIT. For 20 years God has been leveling my pride. It needed it. For 10 I've been writing poetry, music and songs. Now it's time. My music will be released on YouTube and Soundcloud next month. The links announced. I figure if you're gonna dream... **DREAM BiG**. Notice the little i in the middle of BiG? That's ME. If I get a big head *the weight of it will make me fall.* Will you support me? PRAY. Send good thoughts skyward. I'll need every last one. Thank you! ♥ Catherine
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(1) I'm disturbed and yet deeply comforted by my disturbed nature I'm comforted because my darkness envelops me- it may be cold to the touch rigid and upright not soft and loving but it's loyal it never leaves. Today, I'm driving window down to help me breathe I capture cold air in my wind pipe I smell November winter air smoke from chimneys rising- when I breathe out I'm smoking too warm air penetrating cold air I smell November winter air we're still in October it's too early for these memories I'm unprepared- it's too early. Sat next to me she appears- a paler, younger, thinner self a self I'm sure has passed on to another life if it haunted me we'd call her a ghost but she comforts me shall we call her an imaginary friend? "You look terrible!" I state wilfully. (2) She's dressed in a thousand layers "You still feel the cold, eh!" I say She winks, staying aloof from any possible conversation I take a tone of similar indifference. There she is barely visible so unafraid of death arms striped with incisions a razor blade left behind hip bones, collar bones, chest bones she's nothing more than a white sheath coat pulled over the skeleton of a human body skin screaming for nourishment to show any signs of life. If I asked to feel her pulse there'd be nothing there no beat no rhythm "Maybe it's why the fear of death has left me!" she commands "Because in your muffled confusion your muscles wasting including your brain- you mistake yourself for dead." I retort "You're 21 for Christ's Sake!" (3) Distracted by a red traffic light I turn away- when I look back, she's gone. So here I am talking to myself the ghost of Christmas past disappears as soon as my back is turned. When I'm alone the silence is always louder than any noise I ever hear- the silence attracts her back I reach out to her trace her face with my finger tips I whisper: "God Bless," knowing some memories are meant to be laid to rest. © Sia Jane Read on SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/sia-jane-words/winter-air
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Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
Winter Air
(1) I'm disturbed and yet deeply comforted by my disturbed nature I'm comforted because my darkness envelops me- it may be cold to the touch rigid and upright not soft and loving but it's loyal it never leaves. Today, I'm driving window down to help me breathe I capture cold air in my wind pipe I smell November winter air smoke from chimneys rising- when I breathe out I'm smoking too warm air penetrating cold air I smell November winter air we're still in October it's too early for these memories I'm unprepared- it's too early. Sat next to me she appears- a paler, younger, thinner self a self I'm sure has passed on to another life if it haunted me we'd call her a ghost but she comforts me shall we call her an imaginary friend? "You look terrible!" I state wilfully. (2) She's dressed in a thousand layers "You still feel the cold, eh!" I say She winks, staying aloof from any possible conversation I take a tone of similar indifference. There she is barely visible so unafraid of death arms striped with incisions a razor blade left behind hip bones, collar bones, chest bones she's nothing more than a white sheath coat pulled over the skeleton of a human body skin screaming for nourishment to show any signs of life. If I asked to feel her pulse there'd be nothing there no beat no rhythm "Maybe it's why the fear of death has left me!" she commands "Because in your muffled confusion your muscles wasting including your brain- you mistake yourself for dead." I retort "You're 21 for Christ's Sake!" (3) Distracted by a red traffic light I turn away- when I look back, she's gone. So here I am talking to myself the ghost of Christmas past disappears as soon as my back is turned. When I'm alone the silence is always louder than any noise I ever hear- the silence attracts her back I reach out to her trace her face with my finger tips I whisper: "God Bless," knowing some memories are meant to be laid to rest. © Sia Jane Read on SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/sia-jane-words/winter-air
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80
I miss my ex sometimes, and while I'm sitting on my phone feeling sorry, feeling bad, I drink from a bottle of concentrated drink mix, and I find out he's become a SoundCloud rapper, what a remix.
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Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 12:09 PM UTC
Drink Remix
Where are you? I am here my love and I'm not leaving it's so quiet I can't hear you I wont leave you to the silence I won't leave you I am here where am I? You are here with me let me take you home I won't leave you to fight this battle alone I will fight with you I have to go No.. don't go into the silence with out me Take me with you Don't go in to the silence alone I will bring you home Don't leave me.. My love I'm not leaving you for the demons to feast Where am I ? Can you hear me? I am here I am here I am strong enough for us both I will carry you just let me take your hand and I will take you home I'm frightened my sweet child my broken child lost in the wilderness I will find you I am here I can't seem to find my way home just open your eyes my love look and see I will save you I promise But how can you save me? Because that's all I know how to do I will bare the silence and the raging noise I will take your place I will take your place Please find me .. I am lost I know you are lost but I will find you Please my child my love please take my hand let me take you home https://soundcloud.com/rachael-435397529/let-me-take-you-home
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
Let me take you home (re-post and soundcloud recording)
in the la summer, the heat doesn't whisper it swells and the hottest of the places were the buses big greenhouses on wheels but i rode them, for i had no car and if i did it would've been stolen even though i moved away from hidden hills and now lived on the face of the sun after a while, i found my own ways to rebel drink gin out of my water bottle on the trip back home, sit in the elderly and handicapped section and that was what i was doing when she entered the bus she was obviously ancient and walked with a cane so of course i moved to the side as she passed me the first thing i noticed other than her skin that was almost purple was the tattoo of the number 7 across her cheek and no, this wasn't a young woman not the type to spend late nights recording raps for soundcloud in the back of a crack house we looked through each other for a second, and then she said to me do you see it? i shook my head i didn't know what she even meant then she extended her hands and still, nothing was there do you see it, she said again i said no she sighed i have so much to tell you, young woman so much you need to know i nodded because when a crazy old woman says things like that to you you nod and smile so much you need to know her eyes were misted over like lakes in the winter time, cream in the bowl of a tabby cat we sat in silence for a good while, and then she looked at me again in the summer, back home she said when we left school me and my friends would go drinking there was a place called the golden shovel and they had a huge pool table me and mary would play, smoke cigarettes and listen to jazz it was the only time i felt like i was alive but when the cops came mary was there, and i wasn't they shot her dead they said the bar was a hideout for everything good and black that my mother told me i should stand for seven died, and they said the golden shovel was used to dig graves i got this last year she raised a long, peeling finger to her cheek, pointing at the seven the bus ground to a halt as she put her finger down i looked at her this is my stop she said before giving me a folded piece of paper this is a poem i wrote i took it and opened it, but by the time i read it, she was already gone *We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon.*
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Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
after gwendolyn brooks' we real cool and snap judgement's the orange
in the la summer, the heat doesn't whisper it swells and the hottest of the places were the buses big greenhouses on wheels but i rode them, for i had no car and if i did it would've been stolen even though i moved away from hidden hills and now lived on the face of the sun after a while, i found my own ways to rebel drink gin out of my water bottle on the trip back home, sit in the elderly and handicapped section and that was what i was doing when she entered the bus she was obviously ancient and walked with a cane so of course i moved to the side as she passed me the first thing i noticed other than her skin that was almost purple was the tattoo of the number 7 across her cheek and no, this wasn't a young woman not the type to spend late nights recording raps for soundcloud in the back of a crack house we looked through each other for a second, and then she said to me do you see it? i shook my head i didn't know what she even meant then she extended her hands and still, nothing was there do you see it, she said again i said no she sighed i have so much to tell you, young woman so much you need to know i nodded because when a crazy old woman says things like that to you you nod and smile so much you need to know her eyes were misted over like lakes in the winter time, cream in the bowl of a tabby cat we sat in silence for a good while, and then she looked at me again in the summer, back home she said when we left school me and my friends would go drinking there was a place called the golden shovel and they had a huge pool table me and mary would play, smoke cigarettes and listen to jazz it was the only time i felt like i was alive but when the cops came mary was there, and i wasn't they shot her dead they said the bar was a hideout for everything good and black that my mother told me i should stand for seven died, and they said the golden shovel was used to dig graves i got this last year she raised a long, peeling finger to her cheek, pointing at the seven the bus ground to a halt as she put her finger down i looked at her this is my stop she said before giving me a folded piece of paper this is a poem i wrote i took it and opened it, but by the time i read it, she was already gone *We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon.*
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109
this week thurston moore liked one of my videos robert hunter liked one of my poems and some japanese kid liked my latest soundcloud tune that’s sonic youth, the grateful dead and the asian empire if you’re keeping score like i am
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
KEEPING SCORE
Waaater... wataaaa, waterrrr, running.. Falling MY NAME ITS CALLLING. It represents healing and cleansing.. save(nurture) my nativity.. save my mentality save the soul in me. My heart strings.. thoughtful gentle things. My purest form it brings. I can submerge in it all worldly activities.. hide me.. soak me, soak my actions.. cover reactions.. got some  water.. get ya some.. waterrrrrr, she's a wave of satisfaction. she's a mathematical a mystical rafter. Shelter to seek after. Water sets me free... water brushes.. water blows my knowledge. It sustains my power... Water is the mother of soul. water cleanses makes us whole... Ohhh Ohhh Ohhhh water.. drip drop waters what you got. good what ya got.. It's everything... Listen to It's.Water@soundcloud !!@It's.Water by SelinaRos3y
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Feb 22, 2022
Feb 22, 2022 at 7:52 AM UTC
!!@It's.Water
This is actually lyrics to a song I wrote. When I record it on soundcloud I will post a link here There There goes that smile again That smile that always brings me down, and yet my whole world it revolves around That smile In this pathetic game, I'm just a pawn and you're the king Yet more than once I've dreamt of wedding rings but Every day you pass me by without a second glance and I can't help but feel a little more than bruised I vow to learn from past mistakes Give up this hopeless chase Forget all thoughts of ever loving you (But) Dawn Dawn brings your smile again At 7:53 A.M I find my thoughts pine once again With hope anew You'll see my smile too But 'til that fateful day come true I'll always wake up to the sound of Wanting you
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Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Wanting You
Dont breathe my air I see you Stealing my kin Dont fall despair It wrecks you Just breathe in Dont leave me Breatheless Im barely here Speak words of wisdom For me I cast no spells A sigh relief Lingers That knows hell A piece of my heart Sprinkles Dust everywhere Dont breathe my air I am a vicious Keeper Of all I see Not a soul Seeker You'll fall to your knees I feed off your Misery I keep it close I feel your Distancing Please come home Dont search the world For what is here In your heart Dont leave this love Broken Torn all apart I am what You see Flaws all and everything I am all you seek I fall to my knees I see everything Dont breathe my air Dont embrace my despair Dont follow me here Breathing my air
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
dont breathe my air (can also be found on soundcloud sung)
To my friend Bill Hughes Who just lost his kitten Hope that lonesomeness Gets back in its cube With all the other itches. To my friend Billy Hughes Dear rhymester of hellopoetry And SoundCloud. If you need a Bud I'm here with love I can be your cat for a day And speak to you as a friend. Long live your black cat. He's eating mice by heavens dozen, His life has just started It didint end.
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Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
consolation to friend Bill Hughes
I'm taking a little break from writing for a while however, i will be trying my hand at storytelling. And, in my usual fashion, it is quite a thing to behold haha! And so, for my first attempt, i will be reading chapter one of Alice in Wonderland.. I can say, with some confidence, it is not in anyway perfect nor indeed professional. I would also like to point out that i do swear a little bit and do not, at any point, read like a coherent grown up. https://soundcloud.com/rachael-435397529/alice-in-wonderland
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Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
Alice in Wonderland (on soundcloud)
e're since dawn of civilization being borne aloft in aerospace did excite hence, Icarus myth popularized notion to take winged flight against principle of Physics soared limitless height away from temporal light witnessed awesome might into infinite night realization to soar right heavenly vault in spectacular sight brainchild of genius minds left legacy obeisance acknowledged this hundred plus-year anniversary aero planes success got off the ground pardon comment appearing trite Century21 elapsed since machines attempt to remain aloft, where man made invention glittered silvery white beauty, grace and poetry in motion excise Luddite trace despite countless fatal crashes tragedy of loved ones in fiery plight, where corporeal ethereal, and groundswell right lee invisible essences dwell and hover some place maybe occupying a netherworld with fellow at last count (seven) nymphs up and at least one bubbly sprite returning to Earth delivering whipped miracles coolie and Help ping prevent futures fiery disasters many skeptic (like me) ascribe phenomena to angelic intervention despite such mirage, postage sized visage Impossible to dispute quite cuz soundcloud shields spectral savior air tight, whence as mortal dusky Eve twill firmly reveals if adherence valid sans, via after death thar iz an in vite.
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
Gravitation Defied
The side of the bed on which you used to lay Is the spot that, lately, I've chosen to stay Embracing a body pillow to cope with being lonely And the knowledge that you simply don't want me The side of my bed on which you used to lay Is a place I couldn't stand to see another stay Those songs now only remind me I'm alone So I deleted them; SoundCloud is gone The side of the bed on which you used to lay Is where I've been these past few days Still, I chase others away On your side, I think I'll stay
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Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
Your Side
This poet decided against becoming a measly minced meaty morsel undetected inauspicious augury assigning adept aqueous ace AOL amphibian, who surreptitiously crept to the secret crypt (guarded by foo fighters and amazing dragons) said gendarmes did except special fluid scrip as egress into heavily fortified (with USDA recommended allowance), thus when the configurative motley crue including thyself (a bono fied doo bee brother - long given up for lost, which "FAKE" oracle misinterpreted by a goo goo doll, and cross dresser named Hugh played being took a vow el, and hence consonantly knew all along, i dwelt peacefully in a soundcloud loo immensely spacious with ooh dills of survival trappings purchased from Peru laborers treated by free pact guaranteeing a socially conscious shopper to rue painstaking indigenous stoop labor, now stamped imprimatur could allow, enable and provide means to shoe each formerly eczema dappled, cracked bare foot ah, a glimmer of hopefulness (upon this crowded house of a planet) view which youtube snapchat ting reddit as joyous outlook sans linkedin shutterfly, twitter ring tender flickr ring shoots communicated an instagram message of hopefulness kickstarting optimism versus the initial thread of this poem, which to set this got off track (hinting at goal to be a paperback book writer wannabe) rather than ending up as a byte size snack for a limbering beast, into whose tumblr of one jagged razor sharp teeth like daggers lined up along a rack of reinforced steel maw, which bang for the bite did pack leaves no room for bing a survivor as fierce jaws clamp down worse than getting steam rolled by a mack truck, but subjected to thee yield, whence thousands of pounds per square inch of pressure on par lambasted from Donald Trump flack.
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Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
jagged jaws of smelted steel NOT the title:
This poet decided against becoming a measly minced meaty morsel undetected inauspicious augury assigning adept aqueous ace AOL amphibian, who surreptitiously crept to the secret crypt (guarded by foo fighters and amazing dragons) said gendarmes did except special fluid scrip as egress into heavily fortified (with USDA recommended allowance), thus when the configurative motley crue including thyself (a bono fied doo bee brother - long given up for lost, which "FAKE" oracle misinterpreted by a goo goo doll, and cross dresser named Hugh played being took a vow el, and hence consonantly knew all along, i dwelt peacefully in a soundcloud loo immensely spacious with ooh dills of survival trappings purchased from Peru laborers treated by free pact guaranteeing a socially conscious shopper to rue painstaking indigenous stoop labor, now stamped imprimatur could allow, enable and provide means to shoe each formerly eczema dappled, cracked bare foot ah, a glimmer of hopefulness (upon this crowded house of a planet) view which youtube snapchat ting reddit as joyous outlook sans linkedin shutterfly, twitter ring tender flickr ring shoots communicated an instagram message of hopefulness kickstarting optimism versus the initial thread of this poem, which to set this got off track (hinting at goal to be a paperback book writer wannabe) rather than ending up as a byte size snack for a limbering beast, into whose tumblr of one jagged razor sharp teeth like daggers lined up along a rack of reinforced steel maw, which bang for the bite did pack leaves no room for bing a survivor as fierce jaws clamp down worse than getting steam rolled by a mack truck, but subjected to thee yield, whence thousands of pounds per square inch of pressure on par lambasted from Donald Trump flack.
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When juiced a spore sized embryo, early in utero; fetus evinces atavistic miniaturization, where nascent differentiation wrought physical resemblance to - seek reachers, sans Tarzan and Jane forebears, or exemplification of religious embodiments writ upon taut lee helical real to reel strung nano deoxyribonucleic acid, where dome min ant ander recessive traits pop sic cull, and/or mom genes sought took comb hing gull, where foxy fiery hander chrome hat tick microscopic threads ineluctably hired bot to weave warp and woof for naught heard interpretive soundcloud issue onomatopoetic beat, whether as: the Marseillaise, muezzin, or reveille blown in the wind by alimentary mechanic, *** killed in all manner of ought tow mobile craftsmanship, which possibly inflated and made pregnant, when one seem n thrashes within timed zona pellucida drawbridge, hooping an ova to snag, though odds stacked against the most basic cell fish competition fought in the **** z of evolutionary biology informing **** sapiens one errant or defiant game gamete perhaps hinting a gamine tubby wonderfully woven with wisps viz The Idler Wheel Is Wiser than the Driver of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More than Ropes Will Ever Do a ha at last that renegade oocyte nabbed, analogously the Michael Phelps re: among the flagellated madding crowdsource qua squirming sperm-faction caught thence the commencement when trappings for a newborn bought years later reviewing prenatal sonograms with grown son or daughter pointing out how ***** editorialized, epitomized, and exemplified in miniature (no bigger than any letter of the alphabet), and closely resembled many creatures extant throughout the briny deep such as an amphibian, reptile or Argonaut.
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May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
Noah cur teen call caul when Oscar goes wild with ingenue adulteration
When juiced a spore sized embryo, early in utero; fetus evinces atavistic miniaturization, where nascent differentiation wrought physical resemblance to - seek reachers, sans Tarzan and Jane forebears, or exemplification of religious embodiments writ upon taut lee helical real to reel strung nano deoxyribonucleic acid, where dome min ant ander recessive traits pop sic cull, and/or mom genes sought took comb hing gull, where foxy fiery hander chrome hat tick microscopic threads ineluctably hired bot to weave warp and woof for naught heard interpretive soundcloud issue onomatopoetic beat, whether as: the Marseillaise, muezzin, or reveille blown in the wind by alimentary mechanic, *** killed in all manner of ought tow mobile craftsmanship, which possibly inflated and made pregnant, when one seem n thrashes within timed zona pellucida drawbridge, hooping an ova to snag, though odds stacked against the most basic cell fish competition fought in the **** z of evolutionary biology informing **** sapiens one errant or defiant game gamete perhaps hinting a gamine tubby wonderfully woven with wisps viz The Idler Wheel Is Wiser than the Driver of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More than Ropes Will Ever Do a ha at last that renegade oocyte nabbed, analogously the Michael Phelps re: among the flagellated madding crowdsource qua squirming sperm-faction caught thence the commencement when trappings for a newborn bought years later reviewing prenatal sonograms with grown son or daughter pointing out how ***** editorialized, epitomized, and exemplified in miniature (no bigger than any letter of the alphabet), and closely resembled many creatures extant throughout the briny deep such as an amphibian, reptile or Argonaut.
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Moments by Michael R. Burch for Beth There were moments full of promise, like the petal-scented rainfall of early spring, when to hold you in my arms and to kiss your willing lips seemed everything. There are moments strangely empty full of pale unearthly twilight—how the cold stars stare!— when to be without you is a dark enchantment the night and I share. Published by Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly, Grassroots Poetry, The Chained Muse, in a Soundcloud reading by Vex Darkly, in a YouTube reading by Jasper Sole, and in a Romanian translation by Petru Dimofte. Keywords/Tags: Spring, rain, rainfall, petals, blossoms, blossoming, promise, winter, night, cold, pale, twilight, void, emptiness, abyss, dark, enchantment
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Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
Moments
Listen to America? by graff1980 #np on #SoundCloud https://soundcloud.com/graff1980/america
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Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
Untitled
I can still feel you in our sons soft touch That's the side of you I miss so much I still see parts of you during his bath time Lol, It is what it is even if it don't sound right I can still hear your voice on SoundCloud if I want to But when he coo's or cries it's better than the truth I can still smell your fade too some days Brushing his hair while he patiently lays
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Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
Still
https://soundcloud.com/user-536430323/ravaged-karina-veirs Copy and paste the above link to your browser to listen. Thank you Bill Hughes for this. Always a pleasure working with you.
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Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Ravaged (recite on SoundCloud )
Quit acting like the centuries afterward will praise you. right now you held up a clerk with a pocket knife And will be another useless cog in the system. That's if your lucky. If you outrun the five-oh and brushed up on your parkour enough to jump 10 feet to the next building roof. That's if the shingles don't crumble under you once your weight impacts the roof. That's if your bandana doesn't fall off and the five-oh identifies you because you and your dad were pulled over by them yesterday because he was speeding. That's if your significant other isn't dumped by you because you know she's ******* that Black guy for his money and clothes. That's if you can go through another semester scraping by. That's if your not reported for bullying because you made fun of the kid who didn't wear name brand clothes but looked like a rich Jew anyway. That's if your trap EP gets plenty of playbacks on Soundcloud. In reality it's just you moaning into the great void as it is drenched in auto-tune. (ahh yaaaah yuhh yuh yuh yuh yuuuu yuuu tuuu get the strap oooOooOOoO) That's if your codeine doesn't run out and you go into brain-damaging withdrawal. That's if you don't engrave your fist into someone's skull because he noticed you limping to class after that cramp you had. That's if you just seek affection from yourself when this ******** world ***** itself as you are caught in it's way.
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Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
The Centuries Afterward
The American Library Association implores cognoscenti tubby alert impersonators, who call themselves Ernie and Bert took a page from Sesame Street Playbook oft times accompanied by a Soundcloud of dirt, boot none other then Pigpen, (who worked for Peanuts), and pay-dirt, though dismissed, cuz he did not exert true grit, plus more seriously scandalous sordid details suppressed kept from press, (which scurrilous breach of conduct involved said scallywag violating more than flirt discovered in prurient compromised activity, where his skin flute encircled, with an ambrosia girt transgressions possibly affected public television station benefactors, and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly to make a profit sounding proper sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes, asper faux expected by a "FAKE" trumping prophet, sans motley crue comic stripped of more'n motion picture PG ratings, hence future lurid, graphic, banal, ampersand (&) dressing room banter muted, disallowed, and banned so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz, (who passed away prior to near canned aforementioned indiscretion debacle) returning amidst fanfare hoopla much as possible grand jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed glory and apple pie order land ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic easy to digest bookworm feed which unexpectedly, inadvertently, and horrifyingly brewed ferocious breed on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm, whereat armed guards strategically stationed at libraries entrances indeed aware voracious young readers, would pay no heed to any obstacle, and such unstoppable ravishing knowledge hungry kids did exceed capacity security details dashed away, faster then Clifford the big red dog speed!
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Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
Avid Bookworms On The Loose
The American Library Association implores cognoscenti tubby alert impersonators, who call themselves Ernie and Bert took a page from Sesame Street Playbook oft times accompanied by a Soundcloud of dirt, boot none other then Pigpen, (who worked for Peanuts), and pay-dirt, though dismissed, cuz he did not exert true grit, plus more seriously scandalous sordid details suppressed kept from press, (which scurrilous breach of conduct involved said scallywag violating more than flirt discovered in prurient compromised activity, where his skin flute encircled, with an ambrosia girt transgressions possibly affected public television station benefactors, and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly to make a profit sounding proper sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes, asper faux expected by a "FAKE" trumping prophet, sans motley crue comic stripped of more'n motion picture PG ratings, hence future lurid, graphic, banal, ampersand (&) dressing room banter muted, disallowed, and banned so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz, (who passed away prior to near canned aforementioned indiscretion debacle) returning amidst fanfare hoopla much as possible grand jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed glory and apple pie order land ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic easy to digest bookworm feed which unexpectedly, inadvertently, and horrifyingly brewed ferocious breed on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm, whereat armed guards strategically stationed at libraries entrances indeed aware voracious young readers, would pay no heed to any obstacle, and such unstoppable ravishing knowledge hungry kids did exceed capacity security details dashed away, faster then Clifford the big red dog speed!
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