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"struct" poems
the previous listener, who did so faintly and in a manner foreign to me, sat reasonably as I do now, or perhaps lain starry and jaded on some soft lawn riddled with the paused movements of those who watched, clouded with distraction, the life of a sweet nothing drown in descent from above as they cheered and screamed for it, for that meaningless treasure tainted by the vanity of their own desire, ignorant of the listener, of her own treasure then forming, as something warm and enduring in the seat of her chest, something to brood, to analyze, to cherish for a length, at great odds with the fleet and trivia that so dominated the struct of their noire. but the listener had none of this, gulfed from the shaking and pressing, shielded the same from its symbol and write, opting to push for those few golden moments most certainly approaching her as the rest wraithed past, softly and shyly granting the scarcest and most shamefully starved of treelines, roadways and ballparks and wire staff, knowing but keeping that the few she would most deeply and fondly remember would be just these. and so the listener and her lover stood past, sweeping over the artificial earths with little concern, not pausing or skipping for a moment to witness the wonder in the world around them and to soak up some indefinable fraction of its infinite offerings. from lain block to patch grass they strode, searching for their one moment, for that which so surely stood staunch and unmoving at some near point in their passage, but which always seemed to elude them, to taunt and hang and cackle in the face of their steadily growing contempt. and then, as the crowd deserted their peaks for the safe and steady and trough, allowing those moments of elation to slip from them with ease, the listener let likewise all that was precious to her from her grasp, and fell into a similar place, one of deserted lows and recollections of the brightness that lay behind, of those very moments that felt their way independently into her heart and her soul, and left her love beside her, forever looking up into the dark.
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
the listener
the previous listener, who did so faintly and in a manner foreign to me, sat reasonably as I do now, or perhaps lain starry and jaded on some soft lawn riddled with the paused movements of those who watched, clouded with distraction, the life of a sweet nothing drown in descent from above as they cheered and screamed for it, for that meaningless treasure tainted by the vanity of their own desire, ignorant of the listener, of her own treasure then forming, as something warm and enduring in the seat of her chest, something to brood, to analyze, to cherish for a length, at great odds with the fleet and trivia that so dominated the struct of their noire. but the listener had none of this, gulfed from the shaking and pressing, shielded the same from its symbol and write, opting to push for those few golden moments most certainly approaching her as the rest wraithed past, softly and shyly granting the scarcest and most shamefully starved of treelines, roadways and ballparks and wire staff, knowing but keeping that the few she would most deeply and fondly remember would be just these. and so the listener and her lover stood past, sweeping over the artificial earths with little concern, not pausing or skipping for a moment to witness the wonder in the world around them and to soak up some indefinable fraction of its infinite offerings. from lain block to patch grass they strode, searching for their one moment, for that which so surely stood staunch and unmoving at some near point in their passage, but which always seemed to elude them, to taunt and hang and cackle in the face of their steadily growing contempt. and then, as the crowd deserted their peaks for the safe and steady and trough, allowing those moments of elation to slip from them with ease, the listener let likewise all that was precious to her from her grasp, and fell into a similar place, one of deserted lows and recollections of the brightness that lay behind, of those very moments that felt their way independently into her heart and her soul, and left her love beside her, forever looking up into the dark.
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This girl man.. Something amazing.. Her beauty was mind boggling.. A smile that could grasp the attention of every man or woman in the room.. Whether it was envy from woman or the lustful temptation from men, she always had eyes on her.. She had gazing eyes that struct you, making you fall in love at sight.. Trapping you in an everlasting heart throb.. A body of a goddess.. Luscious cocoa butter skin with thick voluptuous thighs..  The true meaning of Mona Lisa .. As we grew closer to each other, I begin to notice something different about this woman..  Although she was astounding on the outside....  she damaged on the inside... A beautiful sculpture across the room.. But you dont notice until you get too close that she is damaged.. The party girl.. Taking shots back to back like she was doing backstrokes.. Careless, no ambition.. Living life on the edge.. She says "I must advise you, I am stamped with an invisible warning.. Will not commit.. Despite my best efforts, I'm beginning to feel some small cracks in my faux finish." Unattached, free as a bird.. Doesn't depend on nobody, & no one depends on her..she doesn't have peace of mind. She was Untamed beauty..
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Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Deceiving Beauty
She was the girl that wanted to be loved so badly and risk it all. She was the girl that lost herself to lust as her fragile heart falls. She was the girl, that was trapped inside the darkness and couldn't see the light. She was that girl, who saw herself as a villain: isolated, depressed,possessed, and pure hatred. Something wasn't right... She was also the girl, who caused the storm to look after her when nobody was around. She was the girl, who was such a fool to invite temptation into this town. Boom The hurricane is coming... She was then struct by lightning and the darkness began moving. She then found her inner peace and she's finally set free. She first started out as Ella; bounded, afflicted, and loss. Her name is now... Electricia.
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
Electricia
That smell is in the air. The one that stands your hairs on end. It narrows your focus and sharpens you wits with just the right kind of wrong. The hunt is on. Should I rush in like a simpleton? An ignorant *** how crass No. Sneaky, sly, and quick easy and slick. Lick the taste and smell that smell. How hot is the fire in hell? I've got a sixth sense for these things. It brings a pain so low I know so very well. THE CHASE! ahh...the taste....... It moistens the lips with a primitive urge my ancestors command. The persuasive beauties blossom with tight skin squeezed between their cotton confines. They beg me to set them free. So innocently they burn down the walls I've built of love and devotion. The notion has struct, the match is lite A fire burns in my eyes.
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Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
The chase
the clouds were troubling her again. but like a roof over her head, he makes the clouds disappear. but caves and roofs and struct- ures and build- kings collapse even the sturdiest structures will break. even you will break. but breaking, at times, is positive. because when you break, you find those who truly care about you. I care abo- ut you dear. darling, you seem so strong. but when will the pressure get to be too heavy for you? when you break, I wanna be there. I wish to see your fragile bones snap under the pressure that has been accumu- lating for years. almost as an "i- told-you-so." you will break. I wanna watch you snap and break and crumble. you will, I know you will. ev- entual- ly. and I will be there to watch and to help. even though I want to see you break, I don't want you to break. I just need to know you feel in- side. do you have a heart? do you feel things? I need to see you break; I need to have proof.
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
roto.
You must go on Feeling strong doesnt take very long Stay up like your star struct And stay up like you just hit a blunt
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Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
Blunt
This face, this phaze, this fus-if-i-can't-ation, see me the de ift sign signed sig nift ab sent, not here, else where who were you up there? up there where all this you and me being began, who were you up there? God.I'd guess, but tha's a cultural con struct, they say, God the way I imagined since I remember, until now when you ask me a reason for the faith in me and I say reason, per se, the thing, faith, itself as it hapts t' be in me, y' see. I be letting that be my answer, when asked to give a reason for the faith in me, y'see.
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Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
betray portray my reason