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"subsisted" poems
My body disobeys me. Each step forces me to exercise parts of my body I didn’t know had subsisted. I hardly controlled my maneuvers, as I basically drifted. Even my helmet is showing signs of weakening, under these steepening, enormous pressures. Terrified and trembling with my humanly gestures, I must have sent vibrations throughout the cold water as the creatures began to circle over my head. I could see off in the distance the submarine of my former occupation. A distant iconic stationary emblem of my failures. Then, the porpoises and scaled beasts parted to contrast a heavenly sight. *No corpses or failed feasts started in the ballast of this night.* For a maiden of duality saved my beckoning soul from the eternal slumber that had otherwise awaited. The rest of this tale I leave up to the mystery of word of mouth. But what must be said is that underneath the blue waters lies much that we do not begin to conceive. Take it or leave it, I cant force a man to believe.
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
The Maiden
There was an Old Person of Ewell, Who chiefly subsisted on gruel; But to make it more nice He inserted some mice, Which refreshed that Old Person of Ewell.
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There Was An Old Person Of Ewell
There was an Old Person of Bangor, Whose face was distorted with anger! He tore off his boots, And subsisted on roots, That irascible Person of Bangor.
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There Was An Old Person Of Bangor
So and so thousand of years ago we dwelled, dawdled, subsisted. Connected by instinct and possible affinity. What linkage, or seam could be listed? D.n.a., dreams, common elements in our lunch? I would like to esteem if we were to meet we would bore each other, and stare at our feet. I've come to a modern conclusion that we came together through time with infinite cause. Our gathering however would be brief in nature, because its probable we **** another without pause.
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Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 11:47 PM UTC
the ****** gets f**ked
rooster-crow and the repetitive tap of a hammer like the tick of a clock in the distance woke me and I followed what was left of your voice like the tracks of an animal to the edge of the copper water. Though I knew there were Cottonmouths thick as ropes, I waded into the cool shadows and then up a hill where trees grew, preordained, laid out in perfect rows like headstones. When I had reached that place where we had left the past, and shed even our skins for love, I saw them: the blackberries surrounded by briers. Supple and sparkling as jewels. The same ones that we had subsisted on, with bleeding fingers, for one afternoon of our lives. And though I remembered all the fears we shared like sackcloth and ashes, and I knew the danger of reaching into the unknown, (it seemed like there were serpents waiting beneath every beautiful thing) blindly grasping for the sweetness that everyone longs for, and I too have always feared those things I cannot see, I put my faith in the innocence of nature. I tried to believe in the benevolence that exists if you go beyond the fear, and so I found them again: the blackberries, the fruit not forbidden to those who love, huge and succulent, and so full of grace, they were almost too heavy to bear.
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Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
Our Hour in Eden
I don’t know why. I had you pinned to the bed and you were finally gonna let me kiss you. I wanted it to be perfect so I got up to turn off the TV or light a candle and I don’t know what happened but I still haven’t kissed you and you got married in April. The way you looked at me: ***** and smug, I haven’t seen anything like it in years. I’ve subsisted on fumes. It’s not easy concocting that in a woman. I tried to kiss you once before. We sat on my porch. You stroked my hair. I leaned in. You ducked out of the way quicker than if I'd thrown a fastball at your head. You went back home to the South. I commemorated my survival by putting a black X through each day on the calendar. Love was finally going to happen to me. Every day I was getting closer, or further away, I'm still not sure which. I had a lot of dreams about you then. I wanted them. If I couldn't have you during the day, I’d make you visit me in the night. Once you were wearing a sweater that gleamed like snow, my lips touched yours like a bow on a violin string. We were both looking for clues, for God or Fate to tell us what to do. You crashed your car after you told me on the phone your friends thought we should be together forever. You stopped talking to me after that. I cried for three days and nights, but I felt like I should've cried longer. Tears came all the way from the tips of my fingers, the soles of my feet. That grief was the last time I knew how to use every part of myself. I saw you next in a bowling alley. There was some other guy you were getting attention from. He wasn't your boyfriend either. You were so nice to me that I knew it was over. I wondered what God was trying to tell me and decided He was ******* with me (a bowling alley!) so I stopped listening altogether. I haven’t had as much love (or, more likely, *** in my life as I planned on. I’ve withheld reservoirs, waiting for the right girl, my energy going into work, leaking away in various diversions. Meanwhile, she’s yet to show up. It’s a hobby of mine, entertaining suspicions that she might’ve been you. Once I sent you a message saying I’d do anything to make love to you. That’s not exactly true, but that doesn’t make it a lie either. I had a dream about you. Someday my kiss will land on your lips.
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Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
I Had a Dream About You
I don’t know why. I had you pinned to the bed and you were finally gonna let me kiss you. I wanted it to be perfect so I got up to turn off the TV or light a candle and I don’t know what happened but I still haven’t kissed you and you got married in April. The way you looked at me: ***** and smug, I haven’t seen anything like it in years. I’ve subsisted on fumes. It’s not easy concocting that in a woman. I tried to kiss you once before. We sat on my porch. You stroked my hair. I leaned in. You ducked out of the way quicker than if I'd thrown a fastball at your head. You went back home to the South. I commemorated my survival by putting a black X through each day on the calendar. Love was finally going to happen to me. Every day I was getting closer, or further away, I'm still not sure which. I had a lot of dreams about you then. I wanted them. If I couldn't have you during the day, I’d make you visit me in the night. Once you were wearing a sweater that gleamed like snow, my lips touched yours like a bow on a violin string. We were both looking for clues, for God or Fate to tell us what to do. You crashed your car after you told me on the phone your friends thought we should be together forever. You stopped talking to me after that. I cried for three days and nights, but I felt like I should've cried longer. Tears came all the way from the tips of my fingers, the soles of my feet. That grief was the last time I knew how to use every part of myself. I saw you next in a bowling alley. There was some other guy you were getting attention from. He wasn't your boyfriend either. You were so nice to me that I knew it was over. I wondered what God was trying to tell me and decided He was ******* with me (a bowling alley!) so I stopped listening altogether. I haven’t had as much love (or, more likely, *** in my life as I planned on. I’ve withheld reservoirs, waiting for the right girl, my energy going into work, leaking away in various diversions. Meanwhile, she’s yet to show up. It’s a hobby of mine, entertaining suspicions that she might’ve been you. Once I sent you a message saying I’d do anything to make love to you. That’s not exactly true, but that doesn’t make it a lie either. I had a dream about you. Someday my kiss will land on your lips.
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Like an adversity onrushes imminently, Thy evolvement feeble you, The assailant of my riches at most, Impede this generation to limp down, Falling on your entangle, twitching studiously In an advertent common knowledge, Knowing your existence that your part of me, Even when I’m not, terrorizes everything I touch, To whom shall I convey my incarceration? The reluctant of my righteous to scheme you, Strung the extension on the same leash, Sweet memories inhabit this shack, This house, these cars, this fame, I know sometimes I Wish I didn’t have this life, these tenacious memories, We had nothing but a felicitous life, having only grains Was enough, depicting a smile with pain, Fear and joy on my school Departure, But you never grouch Your silence became tremendous, You perished on the face of earth, Thou never subsisted till my wish, Through asperity, fear and pain I am who I am for you
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
curse