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"supremely" poems
I am hungry and it is reflected in the contours of every inch                   of skin every cell a-flutter tiny wings and heartbeats activated within right down to the ribosomes and kidney-shaped mitochondria right up through epidermis woven as threads of softness penetrating your inner hard, dark parts causing them to melt into                 my light I am craving to feel your absolute heart's raging core my aching flesh burning, my heart, wrapped in a love               so pure My need to be devoured surfaces in smoothness, at a glance You feel it acutely, no room for doubt or subtle chance                I am ravenous for muscle-worked arms (arms that could easily try to break) to be supremely gentle as you part my thighs like the ocean and sacredly partake the slickness of your tongue in my feminine grace the stains of my love drenching                 your noble face your eyes on mine as I sharply breathe          need to hold your head stroke your            hair know that for me               the king takes off that garland of gold breaking free of all symbols of status the only real treasure the queen who gives to him, and who he now pleasures      and I let myself be consumed with the reverence of a psalm my love pouring into you healing your hurts,                like a balm in this private landscape we are the most ferocious of tender estuaries in an eternal vista in this hour of somewhere, the sea hauls us in like ancient creatures,      bringing the fossils back to life in lustrous foam as they          inch their way into the spirals     that we feel we could call      home‎
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Tender Estuaries
I am hungry and it is reflected in the contours of every inch                   of skin every cell a-flutter tiny wings and heartbeats activated within right down to the ribosomes and kidney-shaped mitochondria right up through epidermis woven as threads of softness penetrating your inner hard, dark parts causing them to melt into                 my light I am craving to feel your absolute heart's raging core my aching flesh burning, my heart, wrapped in a love               so pure My need to be devoured surfaces in smoothness, at a glance You feel it acutely, no room for doubt or subtle chance                I am ravenous for muscle-worked arms (arms that could easily try to break) to be supremely gentle as you part my thighs like the ocean and sacredly partake the slickness of your tongue in my feminine grace the stains of my love drenching                 your noble face your eyes on mine as I sharply breathe          need to hold your head stroke your            hair know that for me               the king takes off that garland of gold breaking free of all symbols of status the only real treasure the queen who gives to him, and who he now pleasures      and I let myself be consumed with the reverence of a psalm my love pouring into you healing your hurts,                like a balm in this private landscape we are the most ferocious of tender estuaries in an eternal vista in this hour of somewhere, the sea hauls us in like ancient creatures,      bringing the fossils back to life in lustrous foam as they          inch their way into the spirals     that we feel we could call      home‎
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84
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start. The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle: Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp. "I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post. In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours. Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product. "Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!" On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page. "I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'" read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
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Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
This Supremely Awesome Wedding Cake Will Make You Do A Double Take
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start. The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle: Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp. "I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post. In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours. Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product. "Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!" On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page. "I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'" read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
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11
I apoligize for not reading your posts. I have been battling my depression and have not been online . I have written a poem about it (of course lol). I hope you enjoy and I hope to be online tomorrow. My Dark Tale (A Sestina) It is a lovely time of day for tea As I sit curled up to the song of rain Memories arise of a deep dark pain Storm clouds gather within my heart, darkly Dimly, I am aware of rainbow’s hope Wanting dreams infused with Rosemary and Thyme Out of work, I suffer from too much time Overeating and drinking too much tea Depression worsens, stealing all my hope And all my dreams shatter in the cold rain Leaving me empty in the bitter dark As I stare out of the broken windowpane How I long to conquer my bitter pain If only I would organize my time I know then, I would rise above the dark Instead, I get caught in cookies and tea And sink deeper; chaos supremely reigns I flounder once again, losing my hope I am tired of losing precious hope Letting despair and worthless bitter pain To take control and determinedly reign Structure! Will that allow me to use time Positively? Cutting back on black tea Getting needed sleep to fight back the dark Rested, I can push back the hated dark Strive to capture peace and beautiful hope Learning once again to enjoy my tea And not as a crutch that causes me pain While I mourn the loss of wasted sweet time Instead, I would see rainbows in the rain I yearn to topple depression’s long reign, To walk in the sun’s light, not the cold dark Eager to greet the day and enjoy time Pursue my dreams, infusing life with hope Do away with doldrums and bitter pain Relaxing and enjoying Earl Gray Tea Envoi To sum up, I yearn to enjoy my tea Overcome my darkness and pain; to feel hope While I take time to enjoy the sweet rain Kelly Rose © January 5, 2017
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Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
My Dark Tale (A Sestina)
I apoligize for not reading your posts. I have been battling my depression and have not been online . I have written a poem about it (of course lol). I hope you enjoy and I hope to be online tomorrow. My Dark Tale (A Sestina) It is a lovely time of day for tea As I sit curled up to the song of rain Memories arise of a deep dark pain Storm clouds gather within my heart, darkly Dimly, I am aware of rainbow’s hope Wanting dreams infused with Rosemary and Thyme Out of work, I suffer from too much time Overeating and drinking too much tea Depression worsens, stealing all my hope And all my dreams shatter in the cold rain Leaving me empty in the bitter dark As I stare out of the broken windowpane How I long to conquer my bitter pain If only I would organize my time I know then, I would rise above the dark Instead, I get caught in cookies and tea And sink deeper; chaos supremely reigns I flounder once again, losing my hope I am tired of losing precious hope Letting despair and worthless bitter pain To take control and determinedly reign Structure! Will that allow me to use time Positively? Cutting back on black tea Getting needed sleep to fight back the dark Rested, I can push back the hated dark Strive to capture peace and beautiful hope Learning once again to enjoy my tea And not as a crutch that causes me pain While I mourn the loss of wasted sweet time Instead, I would see rainbows in the rain I yearn to topple depression’s long reign, To walk in the sun’s light, not the cold dark Eager to greet the day and enjoy time Pursue my dreams, infusing life with hope Do away with doldrums and bitter pain Relaxing and enjoying Earl Gray Tea Envoi To sum up, I yearn to enjoy my tea Overcome my darkness and pain; to feel hope While I take time to enjoy the sweet rain Kelly Rose © January 5, 2017
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44
Blessed  with matchlessly magical Parents, Their supremely good, serenely happy raising, design our thought processes. Their loving, comforting storytelling skills, leave indelible footprints  and heartprints. Thankyou God for this Benedictory Love!!! Blessed with a bombastic Brother, self-styled natural, perennial itinerant, Sentinel of sisters life-long. Sentiments flow unabatedly, for our illustrious, boisterous beloved younger. Thankyou God for this Blissful Love!!! Blessed with delicate darling Sister, who wears expressions benignant perpetually. Wiitty, gritty, easy-going habitually. Evident protected favourite of all surely. Fondest moments born in her queenly company. Thankyou God for this Harmonious Love!!! Blessed with solicitous Husband, His silent romanticism, macho protective ways, smoothen tumultuous paths. Terribly correct and sober better half, Brokers peace, plots life's happiness graph. Thankyou God for this Angelic  Love!!! Blessed with an endearing Child, Whose arrival, auspicious, momentous and miraculous, Rearing the divine and sublime born, definitely, a definition for the guardians. Our child, our panacea, promise of better tomorrows. Thankyou God for this Supreme Love!!!
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Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 2:06 AM UTC
WHOM WE LOVE AND LIVE FOR !!!
You are the supremely graceful epiphany, the life changing —illumination Stay. And let me stare at your fulgent elegance, your lovely manifestation till I'll become blind enough and see the meaning of this incarnation
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Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
Epiphany
In this moment I’m a petal of rose Often mocked that I am one By other flowers Who look up to the same sun I feel plucked from my root Mangled and **** I was born bare That which was my beauty But in this crude exposure trapped in some snare My skin burns in ****** I feel ghastly blows of wind And wailing typhoon Dent rustic parts of my skin Scream its cacophony louder than my whimper of pain Making me beg for a light drizzle of rain I wonder how I would be If I were a dandelion I could let my fragments loose And watch their flight Into ethereal sunshine I’m a trampled rose Like the woe in Christ’s song I’ve plagiarised the words It seems But this is how it feels To be forlorn And I have a mind of my own Alas! That’s what I thought Until I learnt that it’s supremely influenced tainted and stale Like a can of delight Only store bought off a bargain What if I were only a little flower whose shoot grew Piercing out of a rocky crevice? A small star trying hard to shine its hardest in its constellation Blotted with sparkling lights? How can I make myself known? Do I have to? Is it a sin? To be alone? To be a petal of rose and please you? Can’t I be my own? A flower that doesn’t have a Latin root That can shy away if touched And bloom when in mood? No, I really don’t want to stick to a season And have visitors gawk at me then I want to be really loved in person Even when I’m dying and my stalk is bent now, I wonder Does a flower think so much? Does it write a poem When its feelings are fractured And they need a crutch? I’ve seen it be Just lucid and carefree And, all of a sudden I’m jolted with an epiphany of simply being.
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
Frailty.
In this moment I’m a petal of rose Often mocked that I am one By other flowers Who look up to the same sun I feel plucked from my root Mangled and **** I was born bare That which was my beauty But in this crude exposure trapped in some snare My skin burns in ****** I feel ghastly blows of wind And wailing typhoon Dent rustic parts of my skin Scream its cacophony louder than my whimper of pain Making me beg for a light drizzle of rain I wonder how I would be If I were a dandelion I could let my fragments loose And watch their flight Into ethereal sunshine I’m a trampled rose Like the woe in Christ’s song I’ve plagiarised the words It seems But this is how it feels To be forlorn And I have a mind of my own Alas! That’s what I thought Until I learnt that it’s supremely influenced tainted and stale Like a can of delight Only store bought off a bargain What if I were only a little flower whose shoot grew Piercing out of a rocky crevice? A small star trying hard to shine its hardest in its constellation Blotted with sparkling lights? How can I make myself known? Do I have to? Is it a sin? To be alone? To be a petal of rose and please you? Can’t I be my own? A flower that doesn’t have a Latin root That can shy away if touched And bloom when in mood? No, I really don’t want to stick to a season And have visitors gawk at me then I want to be really loved in person Even when I’m dying and my stalk is bent now, I wonder Does a flower think so much? Does it write a poem When its feelings are fractured And they need a crutch? I’ve seen it be Just lucid and carefree And, all of a sudden I’m jolted with an epiphany of simply being.
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66
# *This place. I don't know. so many people / want to block..   their words-- they climb all over me. one's in particular: Heart-expressed words bringing down the healing light of relationship to the parts of me who up until now have known little or no relationship of its kind;       and there is conflict within me  as I fight it..     years the locusts have eaten; and the opportunity of restoration;       often squandered. in vanity. none of that mattered much;                                  until now-- When the unredeemed heart-parts of myself reveal to me their dormancy:    left detached from community  with one another--   an internal community   necessary   to withstand  the brilliant light    and glory   brought down by those here who write as she does.           but she;     through her unfiltered heart-writes     brings down the very magic and beauty and fullness of the     relational dance of the godhead.      And it's raw beauty is ****** slayin me. I so want to block her  for the conflict she creates    in me                       .       but I will  press on and allow her supremely-smithed words-- (words not even written to me) to have their beautiful way, in and through.. the help that has been all around me; (each and every one of us) waiting...                all along    **--as  if they were cleaning my soul,       re-integrating my fragmented, heart-parts.*** #
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Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:21 PM UTC
lawyers guns and... oh my sweet.. gentle...... aww, jesuschristallf*ckin-assedmightyy.....
# *This place. I don't know. so many people / want to block..   their words-- they climb all over me. one's in particular: Heart-expressed words bringing down the healing light of relationship to the parts of me who up until now have known little or no relationship of its kind;       and there is conflict within me  as I fight it..     years the locusts have eaten; and the opportunity of restoration;       often squandered. in vanity. none of that mattered much;                                  until now-- When the unredeemed heart-parts of myself reveal to me their dormancy:    left detached from community  with one another--   an internal community   necessary   to withstand  the brilliant light    and glory   brought down by those here who write as she does.           but she;     through her unfiltered heart-writes     brings down the very magic and beauty and fullness of the     relational dance of the godhead.      And it's raw beauty is ****** slayin me. I so want to block her  for the conflict she creates    in me                       .       but I will  press on and allow her supremely-smithed words-- (words not even written to me) to have their beautiful way, in and through.. the help that has been all around me; (each and every one of us) waiting...                all along    **--as  if they were cleaning my soul,       re-integrating my fragmented, heart-parts.*** #
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41
Red lips Bright eyes You're my everyday eclipse A celestial body obscuring other guys With you There is no other The skies may be blue But with you, it's full of thunder Sparks fell Traveling through Every nerve; every cell Feelings of love imbued Celestial you For you are like a gift from heaven Supremely good; Forever true My valuable possession Do you now see How much I am in love with you?
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Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
Celestial You
The light quit working in the jukebox, the melodies' surrender, a commonplace extinction, against the salt and the breeze of your false Mediterranean. The burden of your rational soul in a world of extremes has torn your spirit to tatters- tatters littered across your Toronto abode. Divided amongst the heirlooms and emptied bottles. This desolation you sought to translate for the harmonious pulse of the dial tone. Hazy, is this ancient mind, a smoking fallout of yesterday's parties to be discussed over lukewarm coffee and cigarette butts, while the shivering streams and green plains become commodified for a higher power. Dan, my dearest friend, I loved you ferocious and freely, fanged and supremely, and as your mind coagulated on a couch, microphone in-hand, I felt nostalgic for your clumsy alcoholism, and clumsier guitar strumming. The white fog descends, the city is hungry-- no longer can it expand. Toronto eats itself with you inside, shall I write you a postcard? Shall I kick down your door? Shall I let you join the bones you so beautifully alluded to? Whisper, my friend, amidst the soft croon of the saxophone, whisper, my friend, of a Europe gone defective, whisper, my friend, for an apocalypse of sun to release us all from the white fog slowly burying our Toronto.
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Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 7:18 PM UTC
Toronto Hawk (for Dan Bejar)
every moment is continually shedding itself; sloughing off the skin of time, dying, into the past, to freshen in exposure, this moment. to live, really to breathe, by impermanence. constantly transforming, the body is never solid, here, there, as atomic flashes, electrons popping in and out of existence, an appearance made, to depart, in a flicker. all turns off, like this, always, eventually, momentarily. threshed and stripping bare chaos voraciously burns, returning through extinguish on smokey black horizons. sinking, into tendrils weaving, knitting by fray, tapestries engendered by enveloping decease. you feel this don’t you? unconscious as much of it may be. it is the nearest of near, and dearly intimate, passions corrosive kiss, oscillating, opening, to retract, in flow, pushing in to pull away, thanatos is eros together, apart again, together-apart, here-going. the heart is aware, supremely aware of this happening, even when the mind is fooled by apparent stability, and the soul surrenders to it's inevitability, even hungering for divine destruction, as basic an urge as the creative impulse. to be composed is to be subject to decompose, fertilizing compositions in cosmic chasms. our lungs darkly shining with every fall of the chest mirroring, each breath one breath closer to the final breath, each exhale a letting go of what can’t be held forever, the expelled foreshadows annihilation, on the fading road, towards this mortal coils entropic end; a preparation. to live, surely, is to meet loss over and over, to love, fully, is to grieve again and again, there is a deep melancholic knowing that exists in all living things, water drops tears like rain, leaves fall like sighs, everyone, and everything dies. our melancholy might be sacred could we truly embrace, and feel, this reality: death is the ever present condition.
0
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
death is the ever present condition.
every moment is continually shedding itself; sloughing off the skin of time, dying, into the past, to freshen in exposure, this moment. to live, really to breathe, by impermanence. constantly transforming, the body is never solid, here, there, as atomic flashes, electrons popping in and out of existence, an appearance made, to depart, in a flicker. all turns off, like this, always, eventually, momentarily. threshed and stripping bare chaos voraciously burns, returning through extinguish on smokey black horizons. sinking, into tendrils weaving, knitting by fray, tapestries engendered by enveloping decease. you feel this don’t you? unconscious as much of it may be. it is the nearest of near, and dearly intimate, passions corrosive kiss, oscillating, opening, to retract, in flow, pushing in to pull away, thanatos is eros together, apart again, together-apart, here-going. the heart is aware, supremely aware of this happening, even when the mind is fooled by apparent stability, and the soul surrenders to it's inevitability, even hungering for divine destruction, as basic an urge as the creative impulse. to be composed is to be subject to decompose, fertilizing compositions in cosmic chasms. our lungs darkly shining with every fall of the chest mirroring, each breath one breath closer to the final breath, each exhale a letting go of what can’t be held forever, the expelled foreshadows annihilation, on the fading road, towards this mortal coils entropic end; a preparation. to live, surely, is to meet loss over and over, to love, fully, is to grieve again and again, there is a deep melancholic knowing that exists in all living things, water drops tears like rain, leaves fall like sighs, everyone, and everything dies. our melancholy might be sacred could we truly embrace, and feel, this reality: death is the ever present condition.
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92
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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78
here's a tale I will tell of the supreme Master of Rivendell elfin Lord, just and wise knowledge deep as elvish skies darkly handsome, unearthly fair silver circlet, midnight hair greatest Power for him alone eyes as deep as river stones grey and lustrous, holding grace broad of shoulder, fair of face aquiline nose, chiseled jaw Master of the Elves. Their law. of his mercy his people sing possessor of the elvish Ring one of three, such Power possessed he's the Lord, and thusly blessed he's seen grief and was forsaken his beloved wife was taken to Mordor and was in suffering bound with the Orcs deep underground father of the maid Arwen who's in love with the human King deep pain of mind, Elrond's aware that he must leave this daughter there in human kingdom Middle Earth for her love has lifetime worth but Strider will soon pass away while Arwen has immortal days though her love's surpassing fine she will one day weep and pine without her husband, all alone for her people will be gone they will one day sail far following an elvish star and of Frodo he's aware the Hobbit will go to Sauron's lair generous, gentle, yet supremely strong he will help Frodo along elvish war-mail and provision he directs with great vision noble King of Rivendell at once gracious yet mighty, fell his word, ever, is his bond Hobbit friend the great ELROND SoulSurvivor (C) 2/5/2016
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
Elrond
I’m in a blizzard of hate Reconstructed and postponed to a more convenient date I feel the LORDS light forever shining Less stuffy and claustrophobic, supremely comforting Paradise valleys of fresh fruit eaten at the vine I keep waiting for that signal or divine sign Follow me to the meadows and prairies Seeking shelter and food, relinquishing all I can carry To the final end, I fear is near I'm out of breath and trembling in fear. The horsemen have triumphed in this final hour Down crashes humanity while standing tall is the Babylon tower. Though a bit frightened, to be sure I feel at peace and truly saved, finally surrendering to God's eternal cure.
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Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
The Last Blizzard / Blizzard of Hate
There’s a superhero protecting the city, And when the sun goes down he fights To keep his friends and family safe On treacherous, deadly nights. He uses his marvelous super strength For lots of things, it‘s quite practical. And he uses invisibility To be supremely sneaky and tactical. Each and every night he goes to stop Bad people from doing bad things The city loves their superhero, And treat him as their king. They know him well and they can tell That he’ll always treat them with care They know they can call at any time, And that the hero will always be there. But many long and sleepless nights Begin to take their toll. The hero’s getting tired Night after night on patrol. And the battles fought aren’t easily won, The hero’s decorated with scars From poison darts, and fisticuffs, Falling from buildings onto cars. But no one else can protect the people Whom the hero love so dear, So the hero cannot take a break, Not one day off because he fears That as soon as he’s gone the baddies will come And wreak havoc on his friends And the hero cannot allow that to happen; He could never make amends. Though he’s growing quite weary, the hero keeps fighting Because that’s the way heroes are wired. But his strength doesn’t work like it used to, And his invisibility tends to backfire. His strength only works around other people, He grows weak as soon as they’re gone. He’s invisible almost all of the time, So people can’t see something’s wrong. It’s now to the point where the hero dreads The sun sinking into the west Because he knows that once the sun goes down, He’ll be put to the test. He’s so tired and weak and he’s ready to quit But he knows he must go out again. Isn’t protecting the city week after week Worth any amount of pain? He’s reluctant to go out, and almost dares to do evil, To show that he’s in control. But he knows he never will, his reputation’s at stake, And he prepares to go out on patrol. The city is asking to be saved once again. And he cries as the sky turns red, Maybe the city won’t expect to be saved If the hero himself is dead. For the hero feels so very alone. He knows he can’t go on forever. How many more super villains and monsters, He asks, can this poor hero weather? The hero knows that he can’t go much longer, That he only has a little while Before the people figure out he’s hurt But for now he saves with a smile. Though his bones are weak, and his skin is bruised, Off to save the city once more, he goes. He’s pushing himself far past his limit As he brawls ‘gainst countless foes. He wants to keep his people safe, Though he may be going to his grave. For no one ever taught this hero To save others, first himself he has to save.
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Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 5:03 AM UTC
Superhero
There’s a superhero protecting the city, And when the sun goes down he fights To keep his friends and family safe On treacherous, deadly nights. He uses his marvelous super strength For lots of things, it‘s quite practical. And he uses invisibility To be supremely sneaky and tactical. Each and every night he goes to stop Bad people from doing bad things The city loves their superhero, And treat him as their king. They know him well and they can tell That he’ll always treat them with care They know they can call at any time, And that the hero will always be there. But many long and sleepless nights Begin to take their toll. The hero’s getting tired Night after night on patrol. And the battles fought aren’t easily won, The hero’s decorated with scars From poison darts, and fisticuffs, Falling from buildings onto cars. But no one else can protect the people Whom the hero love so dear, So the hero cannot take a break, Not one day off because he fears That as soon as he’s gone the baddies will come And wreak havoc on his friends And the hero cannot allow that to happen; He could never make amends. Though he’s growing quite weary, the hero keeps fighting Because that’s the way heroes are wired. But his strength doesn’t work like it used to, And his invisibility tends to backfire. His strength only works around other people, He grows weak as soon as they’re gone. He’s invisible almost all of the time, So people can’t see something’s wrong. It’s now to the point where the hero dreads The sun sinking into the west Because he knows that once the sun goes down, He’ll be put to the test. He’s so tired and weak and he’s ready to quit But he knows he must go out again. Isn’t protecting the city week after week Worth any amount of pain? He’s reluctant to go out, and almost dares to do evil, To show that he’s in control. But he knows he never will, his reputation’s at stake, And he prepares to go out on patrol. The city is asking to be saved once again. And he cries as the sky turns red, Maybe the city won’t expect to be saved If the hero himself is dead. For the hero feels so very alone. He knows he can’t go on forever. How many more super villains and monsters, He asks, can this poor hero weather? The hero knows that he can’t go much longer, That he only has a little while Before the people figure out he’s hurt But for now he saves with a smile. Though his bones are weak, and his skin is bruised, Off to save the city once more, he goes. He’s pushing himself far past his limit As he brawls ‘gainst countless foes. He wants to keep his people safe, Though he may be going to his grave. For no one ever taught this hero To save others, first himself he has to save.
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72
Right now bright sunshine blinds us to the sense That we all live in a nebulous mist of uncertainty Only knowing that eventually everyone Dies After witnessing the miraculous wonder of Existence. Eternal Infinity is impossible Yet so too are finite boundaries That only last for seconds. There must be an Ultimate, All Powerful, Supremely Intelligent Being Somewhere We would think. But is that possible in an Infinite Eternity? And would any such being really be Omni Everything? So we soldier on Keeping ourselves amused. Watching out for any clues As to what this is all about. Paul Butters © PB 26\12\2022.
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Dec 26, 2022
Dec 26, 2022 at 6:40 AM UTC
Living
I’m sorry you were the result of seduction I’m really very good at it and I used you 7 years my senior and supremely illegal you were hesitant to kiss me Because you've been to jail enough and didn't want to see a cell again but I still unbuttoned your shirt and traced the tattoos on your chest and all the way down your arm spilling out onto your hand and I still love the way it felt to sleep naked in your bed and have your window half open and hear the rain pouring down as you packed yet another **** hit at 2 am and we always started movies we never got more than 30 minutes into because of the way my fingers tested your willpower and one night we were watching pulp fiction and I still cant remember a solitary scene and im sorry and one night I came over and you handed me a Marlboro Red and a cold 40 and asked me what my drug of choice was and we taked about how the acid in your spine is resting for the next 7 years and your pupils were dilated so much so I could not see your pretty irises and I guess what I’m saying is I love your 24 year old self and how you made me pizza and let me wear your favorite shirt (and that’s it) around your house and im sorry I always left you in bed when you tried to pull me closer into you I should have just stayed and you would always say “my pillow smells like you, come back. I miss you” and I stopped dropping by your house in January and I stopped talking to you but sometimes at night I dream of the ink on your skin and how you got hit by a bus and how you called yourself the antichrist and how the last four digits of your cellphone number are 7666 and how we ****** so hard I would pull the sheets off of your bed and how you always kissed me in the small of my back and the curve of my shoulders and imsorryimsorryiloveyou
0
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Johnny Wayne Bozeman II (Antichrist)
I’m sorry you were the result of seduction I’m really very good at it and I used you 7 years my senior and supremely illegal you were hesitant to kiss me Because you've been to jail enough and didn't want to see a cell again but I still unbuttoned your shirt and traced the tattoos on your chest and all the way down your arm spilling out onto your hand and I still love the way it felt to sleep naked in your bed and have your window half open and hear the rain pouring down as you packed yet another **** hit at 2 am and we always started movies we never got more than 30 minutes into because of the way my fingers tested your willpower and one night we were watching pulp fiction and I still cant remember a solitary scene and im sorry and one night I came over and you handed me a Marlboro Red and a cold 40 and asked me what my drug of choice was and we taked about how the acid in your spine is resting for the next 7 years and your pupils were dilated so much so I could not see your pretty irises and I guess what I’m saying is I love your 24 year old self and how you made me pizza and let me wear your favorite shirt (and that’s it) around your house and im sorry I always left you in bed when you tried to pull me closer into you I should have just stayed and you would always say “my pillow smells like you, come back. I miss you” and I stopped dropping by your house in January and I stopped talking to you but sometimes at night I dream of the ink on your skin and how you got hit by a bus and how you called yourself the antichrist and how the last four digits of your cellphone number are 7666 and how we ****** so hard I would pull the sheets off of your bed and how you always kissed me in the small of my back and the curve of my shoulders and imsorryimsorryiloveyou
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43
It's not a debate to negate; It's not one or the other. Fallacy of false dichotomy— Makes you think less of me? He's dead. How do we do this? Thread the racism needle? Carefully. Humanely. Sincerely. Coltrane said "Supremely." A love supreme. A love supreme.
0
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 4:02 AM UTC
ARGUMENT
bakers dozen on the horizon near the playa where apocalyptic marauders skate, following a verde raw fruit shake, beneath fade red chakra shawls billowing from the desert winds. a touch of gypsy, an ounce of saint distant, unattainable, supremely created beings. dusty weathered skins, they survive on magic, gifted to them alone.
0
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
Yoga Saints
when i was younger, my mother called me "grace". she called me grace, because that was exactly the thing that i lacked. thinking about it now, it occurs to me.. that that is a very sad thing: to be named after something you lack. if someone wanted to call me a name based on something i can't do, or don't have, or am not, maybe they would call me.. clear. for i am never quite clear on what i want. maybe they would call me.. pure. for i have sinned a thousand times. maybe they would call me.. shame. for i have no shame about the life i have chosen. maybe they would call me.. beautiful. for many things about me are not quite beautiful. maybe they would call me.. honesty. for i'm supremely good at spouting lies. maybe they would call me.. found. for i have never, ever, been so lost.
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Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
grace.
It started with a brofist *Interest fenced in By the facade of indifference Fueled by pride* And it ended with one. Do you still remember When we first met? Us stealing glances at each other You gnawing on your nicotine-stained nails Me soaking in contrived nonchalance Both of us clouding the air With the static of bro, man, **** that, dude*... Supremely confident In our juvenile, preconceived mastery Of subterfuge. How idiotic we both looked, But how wise of us To stay our hearts and tongues With the ancient wisdom of abstinence. You still sitting there With half a heartful Of words left unspoken - Perhaps an apology was in there somewhere - Staring in barely-concealed disbelief At my abrupt flight, I sensed your hesitation As I waved goodbye For the final time, My back to you, As I disappeared into the night.
0
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Bookends
Standing out there in the bitter cold, without any warmth or light to comfort me. I would knock on your door but I'm too afraid rejection is all I will see. Feeling incompetent when I see you all together, huddled in your little cult circle. I try to avert my attention to an outside source, yet my countenance fails to hide the true obstacle. I want to be liked, to be looked up to, not unpopular. Upon looking back, wishing I had favor from others is one of the biggest mistakes I'd ever made. You can determine your own path; Decide where to go. I sense hope for the future, see a light in the dark tunnel, hear a sweet melody through a deaf person's ears, taste honey on the bitter part of the tongue, and feel inspired, even when you shun me out of Your Supremely Popular Coalition for Fun and Successful People. So sorry that I missed out on the grand invitation, not. (it didn't exist) The snow is falling ever so softly here, Their gentle rest upon preceding flakes is ever so calm. I loved once and I do love now, how my mind is at rest, free from your affliction. To think of it now, it's rather pretty outside, don't you agree?
0
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
Out looking In
Here it is, here's your plan there's nothing beyond it, it makes me sad to see you reach low like this You want a fancy car A fancy house A fancy woman   (who only says the right things,    quietly, at the right times) A large salary No problems Miniature models of yourself          well-behaved and clean You want a stable, antiseptic love Something static and sterile Here's news, If ever I was in tune with Hermes and his speed and unashamedness, (He was ever proud of being the God of Thieves) His partnership with Iris as messengers It is in speaking to you, now My dream is not your 'American' Because if it was, It would be neat and profitable Copyrighted to unnamed sources I don't want that I want, chiefly, something frenetic, Nothing tidy about it, Cluttered with memories both wondrous and awful A proudly imperfect man To share flaws with To say "You too? I thought I was the only one!" Problems to muddle through And be caught in And solve, with a happy crow of triumph A small garden, which I will probably end up killing anyway Rambunctious, willful children Who will not be afraid to challenge me Whom I will teach to argue intelligently Raised to be civil and Above all, to be curious I will not mind the mud And the blood And the pain So much at the end Because I will be able to die Without shame for the life I lived What I am trying to say, with the hope you are not injured, is that I don't want a part of your envisioned future I don't want such sweet synthetic sterility I supremely enjoy the whole of the mess
0
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 8:51 PM UTC
American Anathema
Here it is, here's your plan there's nothing beyond it, it makes me sad to see you reach low like this You want a fancy car A fancy house A fancy woman   (who only says the right things,    quietly, at the right times) A large salary No problems Miniature models of yourself          well-behaved and clean You want a stable, antiseptic love Something static and sterile Here's news, If ever I was in tune with Hermes and his speed and unashamedness, (He was ever proud of being the God of Thieves) His partnership with Iris as messengers It is in speaking to you, now My dream is not your 'American' Because if it was, It would be neat and profitable Copyrighted to unnamed sources I don't want that I want, chiefly, something frenetic, Nothing tidy about it, Cluttered with memories both wondrous and awful A proudly imperfect man To share flaws with To say "You too? I thought I was the only one!" Problems to muddle through And be caught in And solve, with a happy crow of triumph A small garden, which I will probably end up killing anyway Rambunctious, willful children Who will not be afraid to challenge me Whom I will teach to argue intelligently Raised to be civil and Above all, to be curious I will not mind the mud And the blood And the pain So much at the end Because I will be able to die Without shame for the life I lived What I am trying to say, with the hope you are not injured, is that I don't want a part of your envisioned future I don't want such sweet synthetic sterility I supremely enjoy the whole of the mess
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55
there's something supremely wonderful at the end of that ridiculously long line be patient
0
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
Rules for Living in Los Angeles #5
"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper" As i sat here, on this bench, in the absolute freezing cold reading "The Hollow Men" I realized, i really wished it would have ended with a bang. I wish we would have confronted each other face to face, and said all the things we were thinking I wish you would have reached into your brain and pulled out the gun I know is in there every truth, a shotgun shell tearing me up from the inside out. I wish you would have been there with your bullet syllables and your tongue that was as sharp as a knife, cutting words into my skin, making my ******* up past, visible to the naked eye. i wish you would have told me how enervating it was to be my friend and how exhausting it was to be the one i told everything to i would have replied *i thought thats what drew you to me, that i was serious, honest ,and definitely ****** up, so different from you* i know you would have said *maybe you're too ****** up, even for me* and i'd watch you walk away, a retreating form in the distance, something i was used to seeing and even though it hurt me supremely, at least i'd hear the closure coming from your lips. But none of this wishing got me anything. no, of course not. what i got was frozen messages, a summer spent ignored, a distant call, and a petty, stupid decision that you made, to make me feel like the worthless human being i am. you faded out, once my constant, now my nothing. They say with grief our support may falter, and you faltered. You fell, no, jumped right through the cracks, deciding i was too much weight, too much baggage for you. So now i sit reading T.S Elliot alone on my friday night and you, oh you, you're probably telling everyone about the real broken family i come from. "This is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper" i couldn't have said it better myself.
0
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
Tribute to a fallen friendship
"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper" As i sat here, on this bench, in the absolute freezing cold reading "The Hollow Men" I realized, i really wished it would have ended with a bang. I wish we would have confronted each other face to face, and said all the things we were thinking I wish you would have reached into your brain and pulled out the gun I know is in there every truth, a shotgun shell tearing me up from the inside out. I wish you would have been there with your bullet syllables and your tongue that was as sharp as a knife, cutting words into my skin, making my ******* up past, visible to the naked eye. i wish you would have told me how enervating it was to be my friend and how exhausting it was to be the one i told everything to i would have replied *i thought thats what drew you to me, that i was serious, honest ,and definitely ****** up, so different from you* i know you would have said *maybe you're too ****** up, even for me* and i'd watch you walk away, a retreating form in the distance, something i was used to seeing and even though it hurt me supremely, at least i'd hear the closure coming from your lips. But none of this wishing got me anything. no, of course not. what i got was frozen messages, a summer spent ignored, a distant call, and a petty, stupid decision that you made, to make me feel like the worthless human being i am. you faded out, once my constant, now my nothing. They say with grief our support may falter, and you faltered. You fell, no, jumped right through the cracks, deciding i was too much weight, too much baggage for you. So now i sit reading T.S Elliot alone on my friday night and you, oh you, you're probably telling everyone about the real broken family i come from. "This is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper" i couldn't have said it better myself.
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27
I am seer of thine in Abernathy but squarely this divineness fore my essence will describe with maturation on my side whether or not this dither fantasize will deduce gold hexagons that mix a feather awhile and let dolce vita thrive a supremely superb undulance in ubiquity here.
0
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
A Thaw