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"subsume" poems
If Eight Fanned Angels admit to his Name And beg the Sullen Scroll to recompense These Fortitude's Maidens learned to maintain An Hour to decide which Fashion made sense Loyalty alone may not win his Heart Consider the Hours he has to consume Now celebrate each other; Though apart To golden yourselves and Pride you subsume All of you - Beauty's Inner Chorus - Taste! Taste and realise Other Flavours grow The Bowl you feed in has more than one space As other Jolly Princes dive for show. Your Plum Prince still smiles. But go and decide Which Heart to follow and which Heart to hide.
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: DALEY'S ANGELS
Apart from the Malice I'd like to Subsume Are some Fortune's Tags which I strive to defer And Mood the Dragon's Seasoned Pawn resume Threw Slime instead; And dissolved my Brother Shall I charge as your Fault? But then again, Your same usual Stones pound my Bouncing Head With no other Ritual to confront this Pain You continue to bray; And play Mule instead Unaware of the Grass you still do hurt Blinded by the Light which you call Divine Philosophy leashes your own True Worth Sticks you in Trivia; And robs your eyes blind. What is there to blame from such Harrowed Young Since the Lord Philip's Man has not yet sung?
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - SIXTY-THREE - TOM DALEY
But then that Bronze you would Commercialise Out of those Hands which reimbursed your Win Need not be Displayed; For Humble concise The Best Blown Victory embraces your Skin Like that Gold-Dresser his Scriptures resume Though unexpected Prime Tarriff despite Saw this Next Call for Excitement subsume For the Corvocado Christ he'll incite And as for you, to Teeny-Bopps you relate And Promote your Sport as a Pop-Ear's Rage With Some at-risk, masturbed and hate The Artist's Garden stolen for corsage. There are certain Themes which need no Reform That if we do, such Gremlins we Transform.
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Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - ONE HUNDRED - TOM DALEY
There’s too much air to breathe here. A swirling mass of emptiness heaves through the crowd’s lungs. Stop. Won’t everyone just god **** Someone sings at the bus stop just outside my window. Wires hum, ignoring the melody that person has so carefully constructed. A hiss. Rising steam. An abrupt end. Another listless night. A beetle flies in through my open window. It takes me twenty minutes to help it back out. I think about wandering the forest. But am too scared to confront loneliness, and the frailty of human existence. There is a gap forming already. Here. A dialectic that seeks to sublate my very identity. Subsume those closest to me. Until I am completely alone. There is a bush down the street which is in bloom right now. I think the sun is too hot. The flowers are wilted. And the pavement is littered with dead bees. Voices. An exchange. A language game. Two horizons meet, merge, melt. ‘Wait--’ The horizons drop. If only for a moment. And the abyss is revealed. The only universal in this world is that we are all alone. Trapped in our own understanding. Forever interpreting one another. I am waiting for the day the wind carries me out the window. Perhaps it will never come. Perhaps I will live a long boring life amongst friends, family, and all those people I despise. Oh well. No point, either way.
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
my mind is a haze of indistinct thoughts that fail to coalesce into speech
*We will grieve not, rather find                         Strength in what remains behind;                         In the primal sympathy                         Which having been, must ever be.*                                                                                         William Wordsworth stunning and stunned, perhaps even life momentarily,             stunted  angry but enraging confusion this notion, stirs a commotion, primal sympathy, spawns poem not a broken totem not a stolen token hand writ, inked in pen, no golems in a modem to assist this just pure human spoken an omen giving, notice total, this is one true ether, or either it is not! this primal essential assertion a conditional propositional that it is natural for man to be deep sympathetic to his kind, *for which having been, must ever be* in Syria, snipers shoot children for sport, in Nigeria, young girls to slavery sold, the list, matter of many facts, well known, needs not embellishment or addition, the history books teach the children well so vaunted primal atmosphere, in these places, are you absent, non-existent? when primal was pre-creation, spelled first as primeval, in the era before the appearance of ratiocination of life on earth Prime and Evil, was a combustible fuel of necessity survival primeval became primordial, man essayed to improve, aging onwards himself to enlightenment yet rooted in this prime number of humankind is a cellular tissue that springs to life in those who allow it, residence of the remnants, original origin of the evil that can subsume and assume do not allow it I can tell you I will not lay quiet for the murderers of children, I have primeval hatred the rage of primal sympathy denied unleashed ten times greater be wary when the best of us rises up the snipers and the enslavers will die by their own weapons
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
Primal Sympathy (Where Snipers Shoot the Children)
*We will grieve not, rather find                         Strength in what remains behind;                         In the primal sympathy                         Which having been, must ever be.*                                                                                         William Wordsworth stunning and stunned, perhaps even life momentarily,             stunted  angry but enraging confusion this notion, stirs a commotion, primal sympathy, spawns poem not a broken totem not a stolen token hand writ, inked in pen, no golems in a modem to assist this just pure human spoken an omen giving, notice total, this is one true ether, or either it is not! this primal essential assertion a conditional propositional that it is natural for man to be deep sympathetic to his kind, *for which having been, must ever be* in Syria, snipers shoot children for sport, in Nigeria, young girls to slavery sold, the list, matter of many facts, well known, needs not embellishment or addition, the history books teach the children well so vaunted primal atmosphere, in these places, are you absent, non-existent? when primal was pre-creation, spelled first as primeval, in the era before the appearance of ratiocination of life on earth Prime and Evil, was a combustible fuel of necessity survival primeval became primordial, man essayed to improve, aging onwards himself to enlightenment yet rooted in this prime number of humankind is a cellular tissue that springs to life in those who allow it, residence of the remnants, original origin of the evil that can subsume and assume do not allow it I can tell you I will not lay quiet for the murderers of children, I have primeval hatred the rage of primal sympathy denied unleashed ten times greater be wary when the best of us rises up the snipers and the enslavers will die by their own weapons
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58
two hundred years ago    or so this title might have read "America", etc., according to the myth that then was strong and still exotic    and promising to aliens with no experience today, after Wounded Knee, the Trail of Tears, the Civil War, the Restoration, all the lynchings, after Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, Nicaragua, the Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan,Lybia, Syria & cetera, Ferguson, Baltimore, & cetera, "America" has disappeared it has, in fact, become quite evident that to subsume the continent    on the far side        of the Atlantic or Pacific    with this name will do no more    in truth, it rarely ever did the mythic notion    of a just and free society was definitely buried at My Lai, Panama City, on the desert plains of Kurdistan, the Baghdad prisons,     and Guantanamo by racist violence & arrogance    and pitiful ideas of white supremacy    the usa today lies bare    of the old promise of 'America' street people, rampant fundamentalists, drugs, and low employment rates, in a society that longs    despite its cherished myth    of tough but honest competition for holy war in order to rebuild with profit    what it has destroyed with arms that, to all evidence, cares not a penny's worth for    the unbuildable    which never shows in the domestic census or for the lives of others but their own brave boys    preferably white who have in recent years       though with increasing discomfort upon appointment by their country's presidents achieved the dreary fame    of bombing back into the stone age distant lands that had     just barely begun to make it out from there            * * *
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May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
usa today (critical)
two hundred years ago    or so this title might have read "America", etc., according to the myth that then was strong and still exotic    and promising to aliens with no experience today, after Wounded Knee, the Trail of Tears, the Civil War, the Restoration, all the lynchings, after Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, Nicaragua, the Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan,Lybia, Syria & cetera, Ferguson, Baltimore, & cetera, "America" has disappeared it has, in fact, become quite evident that to subsume the continent    on the far side        of the Atlantic or Pacific    with this name will do no more    in truth, it rarely ever did the mythic notion    of a just and free society was definitely buried at My Lai, Panama City, on the desert plains of Kurdistan, the Baghdad prisons,     and Guantanamo by racist violence & arrogance    and pitiful ideas of white supremacy    the usa today lies bare    of the old promise of 'America' street people, rampant fundamentalists, drugs, and low employment rates, in a society that longs    despite its cherished myth    of tough but honest competition for holy war in order to rebuild with profit    what it has destroyed with arms that, to all evidence, cares not a penny's worth for    the unbuildable    which never shows in the domestic census or for the lives of others but their own brave boys    preferably white who have in recent years       though with increasing discomfort upon appointment by their country's presidents achieved the dreary fame    of bombing back into the stone age distant lands that had     just barely begun to make it out from there            * * *
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54
I am the universe. Unique and indivisible. Focus on this, my inner truth. Then, broaden bright consciousness to subsume everything into this sphere of most subtle and sublime reality. Until a greater dawn reveals. I am part of everything: The universe is me.
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Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 8:47 AM UTC
Meditation
The Holy Spirit took Him to the wind and sand, Left Him alone in dry air To meet the Devil. Forty days He fasted, Must have prayed, Alone. The Devil knew just where to find Him, Rolled up in a whirlwind, Did he? Or slithered he up, Wind in his face, The Serpent, from behind? The conversation followed, Enough to raise my hair, "I've been given total dominion Of earth and sky down here. The glory is all mine." "Unlimited my power Within the earthly plane, And all of it you'll have, If you but praise my name." The Devil said his piece, Then waited, Plotting Jesus' pain For invading his dominion For bringing Glory down. He proffered ease of life And Earth's opinion, The greatest things he owned To tempt the Chosen One: A monstrous devil's game... Risk every earthly thing For the Knee of the Almighty. Jesus spoke: "Satan, get behind. Worship only God, your Lord, Serve no one but Him." So Satan took the two of them To the top of the temple spire, "Fall free from here, Let angels catch; Subsume human desire!" Jesus answered quickly, "You shall not tempt your Lord." And so the Devil left Him, The Tempter's power, blown. And so began The Savior's journey Toward a humble Cross, The Gate Post to our Home.
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Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
Dealings with the Devil
through dawn i stumble, singing to bustling streets through clenched teeth, through wavering eyelids i am the sum of the sleep i haven't got. i was lost, and couldn't and can't tell if this day pervades, but; lost like this, lost undercurrent, while caverns of cloud subsume, i can take this. in an instant, lucid life is a dream i carve whilst awake. i'd never seen vanishing as perfectly as this platanus leaf beneath rain, beneath me. the sky dissolves as i breathe, choking on city air. at the end of everything, i draw out short straws. indisciplined, the spaces between my heartbeats become, to curl up and writhe and scream aloud your name, to take down the whole **** coast on the single point we intersect, with hope; to fall into your life, like slow leaves to footpaths.
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Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
apricot flame
You are truly magnificent; you're great, you are marvelous, you're expansively strong, you are out of this world! Be courageous, be humble, give back and build up, be dynamic, a student, and teacher, be BOLD! I'm telling you this 'cause you don't hear it enough and I know you're unique and can impact the globe. You have dreams and high hopes. Though negativity surrounds you,who you want to be fervently burns in your soul. Hey beautiful and dedicated! Hey handsome and strong-willed! Don't let this life pass without honing your skills. See success is not businessess, money or boats. Established is not a doctorate, true wealth is not in notes. Those "Yays" can't compare to the gleam in your eyes. Those True Religion jeans are just fabric for thighs. Those Jordans may be hot, all these things show you're paid but don't matter 'cause you're already beautifully made. Do what you enjoy. Fight for what you believe in. Don't take "No" for an answer, please realize your dreams. Reality is relative, no goal is impossible, The prowess you subsume can create NEW extremes! I love you and I believe in the positive change that you can be to the community and this world, but it's more important for you to believe in, respect, and love, YOURSELF.
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
In Case You Don't Know
The fragments of the sumptuous thirty-plus have been dispersed about me These shards, not merely placed here accidentally, rather having found their way through the hands of one who would have them for a night then repudiate them. That’s how it would seem to the hordes of eyes who’s business goes unattended for that sole reason. Now it is my duty to live with a title others who bear the plague of an unburdened dangling protuberance as a prerogative of the captivatingly covetable. Through those very eyes they exert themselves to live vicariously through your eyes. How foolish are the feeble minded. to so easily set out on a self cataclysmic odyssey. When viewed from the eyes of the sumptuous thirty-plus the perspective have been effectively skewed. The acclaim you were once engrossed in has altered. Transmutation has taken effect. Soon the communal cogitation of the multitudes will subsume the feeble minded Thus creating only one possibly point of terminus: solitary confinement.
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:03 AM UTC
Apology
the raw confusion of the nucleotide fusion, the great concoction of recombinant DNA, when we cross over our own boundaries and subsume, integrate, reformulate our very selves, with inhalation complete of another human being; the danger’s inherent, absorbing a foreign body totally is the creation of a new being entire, vulnerable despite the new totality of the resources of two hearts acquired for mergence and the rush of two different bloodstreams now circulating, stronger by far, and equally vulnerable to diseases never prior considered, these tissues patches, interwoven skins, two fabrics, silk and wool, a smooth itchy, that makes us stronger with yet unknowns of weaknesses, and then we encounter what cannot easily be digested, comprehended, for even new cells split apart, and the terrible terror of dividing division that is the side effect of integration, new subdivisions never ever forever foreseen cause volcanic tremors and trusting your other half is awful, until the fear subsides *this is the why I write of only love poetry, the study of this process so poorly and powerfully misunderstood is the atom bomb of the human psyche in rivers dark we travel, oars with cotton muffled, for there are dangers on each bank, and in the waters beneath the salt and the fresh excitingly & violently blending, different weights somethings fall to the bottom, others rise to the top *and when the process is nearly resolved (for never ending, by default defined, for end is a conflict constant interrupted by truces fraught, fragrant and vulnerable) *this then is living, this physic of the bio-il-logic process called love, and the endlessness that it requires the inconstancy of the constancy of the deepening well, and the redemption of redefinition of what is well* <> 2:10pm nyc 10/21/24
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Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 2:11 PM UTC
till the fear in me subsides
the raw confusion of the nucleotide fusion, the great concoction of recombinant DNA, when we cross over our own boundaries and subsume, integrate, reformulate our very selves, with inhalation complete of another human being; the danger’s inherent, absorbing a foreign body totally is the creation of a new being entire, vulnerable despite the new totality of the resources of two hearts acquired for mergence and the rush of two different bloodstreams now circulating, stronger by far, and equally vulnerable to diseases never prior considered, these tissues patches, interwoven skins, two fabrics, silk and wool, a smooth itchy, that makes us stronger with yet unknowns of weaknesses, and then we encounter what cannot easily be digested, comprehended, for even new cells split apart, and the terrible terror of dividing division that is the side effect of integration, new subdivisions never ever forever foreseen cause volcanic tremors and trusting your other half is awful, until the fear subsides *this is the why I write of only love poetry, the study of this process so poorly and powerfully misunderstood is the atom bomb of the human psyche in rivers dark we travel, oars with cotton muffled, for there are dangers on each bank, and in the waters beneath the salt and the fresh excitingly & violently blending, different weights somethings fall to the bottom, others rise to the top *and when the process is nearly resolved (for never ending, by default defined, for end is a conflict constant interrupted by truces fraught, fragrant and vulnerable) *this then is living, this physic of the bio-il-logic process called love, and the endlessness that it requires the inconstancy of the constancy of the deepening well, and the redemption of redefinition of what is well* <> 2:10pm nyc 10/21/24
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66
Oh how these Strings wrap our Candied Dreams bear When sordid Fantasies plead our Wishes real Though caught by Intent from Good Sages hear Submit to Heart his Childish Play reveal Though evident Time and Geography states And Primping Albums we'd like to Assume These Spectral Lines think to earn our Best Rebates Then soon Collapse his Investment subsume For all his Campaigns ribboned his Image Such his Craft only forced us to beknow As Profits and Shares feed his Entourage And only for Them his True Seedlings grow. So why the Trap we swallow still Fancy Restrict potent Friends - and salt Family?
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Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY FIVE - TOM DALEY
How often it takes to live in Review When Hard-Bound Cases never sate enough Of you and I - Respected Crafts adieu To have Moments subtled yet rendered so rough With Meanings as these no wonder consume On how Equalled Dimensions create some sense Yet fail to meet be such Reason subsume Based on Degrees sapped to our own Defense Thinkers, maybe. Yet Actions your Deeds score More than which my own Carpels could apply Foremost Succeed; As made Success your Fore Which the Reclusive Verser struck on-High. And she was Right; That Flower's Universe bloom As yours the Board; Whose Waves herald you soon.
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY TWO - TOM DALEY
**** your Captors, free your soul How can you say you love me? Knowing that you hate the thing: I love the most And that is you honey! the man of my dreams Free yourself from mental slavery **** your captors, free your soul Love yourself again for me Suicidal thoughts is not the answer Think like a man never be apologetic that simply Internet etiquette Only the failures choose suicide; choose life A vague empty feeling subsume you As you look into the eyes of evil; When man becomes dear to me, I have touched the goal of fortune Is there such a man for me? After you depart from this world Is there such a man for me? Why deprive me of such a man why the suicidal thoughts
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
**** your captors and free your soul
*" I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed & that necessary"*     **Variations on Sleep                  Margeret Atwood** to be inhaled into your essence to become your breath in this world to  inhabit the marrow of your soul is but a dream for we are, different components different aspects needed to compliment needed to inspire the pthers aspirations needed to question the motive to mobilise the heart to gain forward momentum we do not subsume each other... we are become, to one another catalysts gunpowder and fuse lit.....to make the world explode... we are not each others breath.... but, we are each others, reason to breathe... What do you dream of my love... I watch you twitch and murmur.... are you a big brave hunter.... or something less ferocious... tis no matter to me.... i love you and if you could walk me dreams with me you would know that there you are a gentle hero
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
Variations on variations
*A fight with my biggest demon, Addiction, Its consumes me, mind, body, And soul, A fight within my self, That only seems to subsume with the demon its self, Only to cause doom, Pain, And shame, From outer to inner, And flesh to bone, It takes over me, And swallows me whole, A battle to fight, For the rest of my life.*
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Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
My Demon
when i think of you twin souls burning your kisses, dark chocolate when your gone its a devils black pit hopeless to a wild heart and a jutting **** in zebra striped pants better come get me subsume me in flames and incense zombie lover on fire eyes bulged smudged mouth gaping feet scorched *** turned to jelly blood bell kisses pop your **** are eyes smiling your hips metronomes trance your darkness is incandescent i want to live feeling this way the way you make me
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Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
WHEN I THINK OF YOU
If, furnished back to Prime Memories, if These ****** Fans review your very Young Then, as Coach or Commenter state, consist What Fetus or Form your Body has sung Strike, if so given Bags or Condiments Ready to face that Sly Monster called Heat Outsized your Height; Thus with Impediments Forced Tender Blessings to High Noses repeat Which, after all, placed your slice of the blame Though Infection be the source to consume If Consumption be Truth, then swallow the Name For yours and their Eyes bid Lust to subsume. If we view again, let our Conscience bear What Red Eyes we style; What Cold Lips we wear.
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Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY FOUR - TOM DALEY
At least that much with PIN Services climed To cash your Fortunes for us to consume Yet, ask more what you Deposit, enlight The Addict's Flavour our Taste Buds subsume But why, after a Year's Half-Pie debate Still your Velcroed Ghost we can't un-manage Still, your Latined Face we entempt to bait Though Absolute Value mums the Savage How can we, for such Troubled Mercy's Will One day these Settled Chains we liberate One day, when all these Windy Flags be still One sole HER our Acceptance contemplate. If so much as a dew we can Respect Then lighter it be for us to Expect.
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Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN - TOM DALEY
with charon as thy chauffeur subsume thyself in the guise of the left hand of god complement part and parcel in opposite trudge that weary path of darkness scathe thyself in the burning retribution of saint michaels sword in the burning retribution of saint michaels sword live for the pain that teaches what it means to be alive do not obsess of love and purity you alone hold the hand you are dealt there is light and there is pain there is terrible hunger there is weight and there is unbearable weight there are things we can not and do bear live by the sword; die at the wheel
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Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
XLI
it opens like a wound a torrent of flumes and the worries subsume. the day has broken with a thud & every thing we are, were, was, momentarily stops. a system as tightly bound as ballet shoes loosens and we become the mist. and when it sighs a part of us dies, the world's engine ignites, and those familiar cogs begin to grind inside the mind.
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Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 2:57 AM UTC
Untitled
Embrace me my sweetheart with all your passion Make that moment remarkable like a heavenly gift Let us be on the edge of eternity to make it fashion Please be sensible not to create any tussle or any rift When bodies touch then soul is at comfort and solace That unity of moment make us a unit to just celebrate I have visited all your charms now allow your grace Do not ask about experience of love it is really great Let me kiss you, caress you from every pore to pore Let me see how innocent rose flower to just bloom Let me in honesty and entirety to admire and adore Allow me to be your heavenly part and to subsume Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
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Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
To Subsume
Too young! Well, yes, isn’t that the way It seems to us when we hear a friend is gone. The scythe swept close yet we ourselves remain to drink our coffee and put on mourning clothes. We’ll gather in a place we loathe to go. We will see familiar faces in those folding chairs. We’ll kneel before a casket made of bronze And offer an inadequate childhood prayer. In time, we all come to terms with our grief. Experience has taught us nature’s way- Our memories are like sand the tides subsume. Not gone, exactly, submerged, hid from the light. to surface like a dream in the dead of night. Our friend was our companion on this journey, Good company, a source of strength and humor. Our paths diverged in a dark stretch of woods. Our friend has reached the destination sooner.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Farewell to a friend
We try to sound Profound As we Expatiate Not meaning to Pontificate Philosophies We contemplate More often end up Platitudes Convictions we assert Assured Of righteousness And rectitude   Conflating faith with certitude In provenances We conclude Consensus from the misconceptions Answers to subsume The questions Even if the faintest doubt Still lingers on each word Of mouth And furtively betrays Ideals As easily As Death reveals Itself to all of those in time Who claimed in life Divine design More absolute than its unmaking Predicating Their awaiting Finitely To resurrection On hypotheses Of heaven Fallible Incredible Intangible Untenable But nonetheless Congenital Is man in all his arrogance’s Gods upon a pedestal
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Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC
Intersubjectivity