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"synergistic" poems
The spiritual Man leads Through Unity in diversity. The natural Man leads By consensus. The one provides a Fragile peace Dependent on serving Mutual interests The other provides Lasting peace Dependent on serving Each other selflessly. The one depends on Mutual teamwork The other depends on Synergistic teamwork. Spiritual leadership Is Servant leadership. You are the servant of All. All are important For we are all made In the same image.
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Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC
Servant Leadership
(the tics will talk 'til twelve o'clock) When we make time, When we listen: The theistic preach deistic talk; The atheistic preach pragmatic talk; The agnostic preach proleptic talk; The heretic preach shismatic talk; The mystic preach prophetic talk. (the mesianic and satanic never stop) When we have time; Then we listen: The optimistic teach hypnotic talk; The pessimistic teach sarcastic talk; The altruistic teach empathetic talk; The idealistic teach synergistic talk; The pacifistic teach semantic talk; The body politic teach charismatic talk; The technocratic teach robotic talk; The romantic teach poetic talk; The critic teach cathartic talk; The moralistic teach dualistic talk; The ascetic teach platonic talk. (the artist would rather not talk) When we find time, Do we listen: The lunatic speak quizzotic talk; The neurotic speak pathetic talk; The chauvanistic speak monistic talk; The nihilistic speak ballistic talk; The hedonist speak narcissistic talk; The futuristic speak galactic talk. (the minimalist hasn't the time to talk) Just don't. Look. Some tic reset the clock.
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Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
Apocalyptic Talk
Words are ripples in a pond, though, they linger longer in perspective and latch on; a virus. What dwells inside a solitary droplet that does not dwell inside a downpour? Your intentions vibrate synergistic to sound-waves. Your words poison, pay attention: have patience Sometimes, silence is strong enough. Learn your lessons, move a long, don't shoot the messenger along the way.
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:49 PM UTC
Don't Shoot the Messenger
A symphony of harmonious flighted creatures that sing at the rising of the sun. Ever changing are the finite spirit forms, gracefully gliding through the sky and beyond. In start of every new beginning. Clouded hues segue into one another as dawn approaches the morning sky. Eyes peer through half opened lids waking slowly with the powerful stretch of rejuvenated muscles to honor the presence of another day. Flighted creatures make home in the tall green bushes. Together they greet the rising world. Waving branches bid 'good morning' to the passerby's, in hope that the earthlings below take notice of their majestic beauty. Green hairs blanket the moist earth and intermingle with fallen teardrops from nearby tall bushes. Forms without spirit dissolve into chocolate sand, that is food for the non-traveling ground dwellers, so the bushes may shade, house, and feed. Deep breaths are heard as the atmosphere exhales fresh air into the lungs of all nearby earthlings. Tiny monsters make home in the green covered chocolate sand. They crawl with many feet through jungle that is, to us, sprouting green hair. Sky dwellers have many feet, and many wings. No feathers, but tiny, contorted, aerodynamic bodies. Wind gliding, to travel far across the land fulfilling destinies. Sky dwellers are food for the flighted creatures. A cycle; a synergistic food chain for all life. Blissful beauty in its absolute finest. Formless spirits serve as infinite energy for the finite earthly masterpiece. A world of divine forms, living harmoniously under the glee of the rising sun.
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Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 4:26 PM UTC
Nature - Morning
A symphony of harmonious flighted creatures that sing at the rising of the sun. Ever changing are the finite spirit forms, gracefully gliding through the sky and beyond. In start of every new beginning. Clouded hues segue into one another as dawn approaches the morning sky. Eyes peer through half opened lids waking slowly with the powerful stretch of rejuvenated muscles to honor the presence of another day. Flighted creatures make home in the tall green bushes. Together they greet the rising world. Waving branches bid 'good morning' to the passerby's, in hope that the earthlings below take notice of their majestic beauty. Green hairs blanket the moist earth and intermingle with fallen teardrops from nearby tall bushes. Forms without spirit dissolve into chocolate sand, that is food for the non-traveling ground dwellers, so the bushes may shade, house, and feed. Deep breaths are heard as the atmosphere exhales fresh air into the lungs of all nearby earthlings. Tiny monsters make home in the green covered chocolate sand. They crawl with many feet through jungle that is, to us, sprouting green hair. Sky dwellers have many feet, and many wings. No feathers, but tiny, contorted, aerodynamic bodies. Wind gliding, to travel far across the land fulfilling destinies. Sky dwellers are food for the flighted creatures. A cycle; a synergistic food chain for all life. Blissful beauty in its absolute finest. Formless spirits serve as infinite energy for the finite earthly masterpiece. A world of divine forms, living harmoniously under the glee of the rising sun.
Continue reading...
69
After a great deal of climbing I reached the top and paused to admire things from that new place. The sky was a trio of hues (halcyon dragging to teal fading to slate) and the sun was a great big bright thing (inflamed, illuminated). Inch by inch, I lifted my arms, as if to embrace the gusts of wind licking at my skin. I tilted my face toward the volcanic dazzle and stood there a while, imbued with ponderous joy. The longer I remained, the more sure of everything I became, of the steady drumbeat of energy pulsing in the dirt, of the synergistic tangle of death and life. My scalp began to tingle with a giddy, glowing sensation: a breathless sort of reverence I had never known. Oh, what a life, I thought and took off down that hill with arms out like airplane wings, not caring what the neighbors might think
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
Perspective
sometimes it ***** what life turns out to be he was the perfect him i was the perfect me those hushed moments in the world we found no goodbyes were needed around awoke with the ****** of the pelvis sleeping the same synergistic in this plague what vanity we famed s.q.
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC
vain
It is The Way Of All Ways That could ever be For all eternity. They will believe The story Of the Mind, For it is the only place Where we look back Trying to discern What is real anymore, What can be believed? Internal reflection Suddenly becomes A mirror reflection, Looking back at us From This 3D Bizarre world.
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Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 11:10 PM UTC
Synergistic Synchronicity
The energy given. Depleted and mistreated. As though my timelines have no relevancy to those around me. Drained without replenishment, no water for my roots. Only synthesizing the air for you to breathe a higher quality of self involvement. I'm seeking a synergistic bond where helping hands spread beyond two. I'm fighting my way through the balance. Where positivity is borderline naive. Where I can believe before seeing. Where the truth in me lifts the truth in you and we exchange oxygen freely without needing to speak of need. To meet along lines of being human and the same, without the hierarchy of names. To meet from which we came.
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Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
Symbiotic relations
FALL is My SPRING It calls my heart To a synergistic ring A burst of energy Comes forth within me Motivating me to do What some may label Spring clean In the fall Best season of The year of all
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Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
BEST TIME OF YEAR
The Crystalline Castles in front of my eyes warp my true perspective, The Management, those Animals, can't manage this Collective. They say I'm stupid, say I'm Daft, but I am just a Punk, The Red Hot Peppers burn my ears with all that crimson funk. My Fires hot, my Arcades not, but I still think it's dead I listen to the Radio, don't listen to my Head Ubiquitously, you picture me in my Synergistic glory. I had a Stroke from too much coke, but that's another story.
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Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 6:31 AM UTC
Act like Music, Talk like Fire
The synergistic symbiote Whom dwells deep upon my breast Hides secrets within the locked chest. Tethered heart strings play a familiar note. Tightly wound, eroding away Confusion gives rise, memories wash over Dr Jekyll, Mr. Hyde struggling to be sober Detoxing lies I told myself were okay. Beg for the truth before you leave The lump in my throat budges, failing In my head is one story, railing Away to free, a goal I won't achieve. Two kindred spirits struggle, power The true motivator, the opressor killing Dreams to express brokeness chilling My spine as we debate and you turn sour. Friends one moment, devils the here after Souls once melded, fight for control Where I am me, you look to patrol Finding my weakness, self claimed master. Words won't find a wandering ear To which could understand, pain Like this, losing all with nothing to gain Supress these fears, in silence dear. We write the words, we won't speak Nightmares live through day dreams Stalking the foolish, insane screams Suffer this shell, shed yourself of the weak.
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Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
You Don't Want the Truth
*synergism [ˈsɪnəˌdʒɪzəm sɪˈnɜː-] n 1. The working together of two or more drugs to produce an effect greater than the sum of their individual effects 2. Christian theol the doctrine or belief that the human will cooperates with the Holy Spirit and with divine grace, esp in the act of conversion or regeneration* I sent a handful of capsules down my throat with the sting of alcohol. The pills were meant to **** the pain whose source was long forgotten, but one at a time just didn't work for me. They needed something else. So I indulged in an addict's fantasy. The Doctors told me it was dangerous. The warnings on the bottle did just the same. I did it anyways. "Don't drive your car, don't take them on an empty stomach. The side effects are poor." but he didn't tell me who I'd see. I closed my eyes and the numbness hit me. And when I opened my eyes I could have sworn I was flying. The ceiling above me breathed and exhaled. It was then when I saw him. I came face to face with whom I've come to know as God. He was not what I expected. This figure was not the almighty man that legend has made him out to be. The folklore passed on for generations was wrong. My Mother was a God-fearing woman, and at this moment I understood why. His hair was sparse and his skin was ghostly white. The frailty of his body made my stomach tie in knots as I examined him. Maybe it was the pills and the alcohol breaking each other down. His eyes were milky blue and could not see me. His mouth moved just as mine. "Help me."
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
The Synergistic Effect
*synergism [ˈsɪnəˌdʒɪzəm sɪˈnɜː-] n 1. The working together of two or more drugs to produce an effect greater than the sum of their individual effects 2. Christian theol the doctrine or belief that the human will cooperates with the Holy Spirit and with divine grace, esp in the act of conversion or regeneration* I sent a handful of capsules down my throat with the sting of alcohol. The pills were meant to **** the pain whose source was long forgotten, but one at a time just didn't work for me. They needed something else. So I indulged in an addict's fantasy. The Doctors told me it was dangerous. The warnings on the bottle did just the same. I did it anyways. "Don't drive your car, don't take them on an empty stomach. The side effects are poor." but he didn't tell me who I'd see. I closed my eyes and the numbness hit me. And when I opened my eyes I could have sworn I was flying. The ceiling above me breathed and exhaled. It was then when I saw him. I came face to face with whom I've come to know as God. He was not what I expected. This figure was not the almighty man that legend has made him out to be. The folklore passed on for generations was wrong. My Mother was a God-fearing woman, and at this moment I understood why. His hair was sparse and his skin was ghostly white. The frailty of his body made my stomach tie in knots as I examined him. Maybe it was the pills and the alcohol breaking each other down. His eyes were milky blue and could not see me. His mouth moved just as mine. "Help me."
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30
These words are not an escape my mixtape is pure brilliance my mind cut loose, boundless and I found this when I found bliss on a blank page which I rained on My tank full, I couldn’t miss I shot ideas into the dark Where they lit a spark which ignited and reunited me with my desires blazing fires in my brain an outlet for joy and pain and everything in between I empty myself clean in emptiness I exist peaceful, effortless nevertheless my eloquence is undeniable It’s not arrogance or impotence Resentment or indifference Its creation manifest Destiny yet to be established Creative electricity Neuronal elasticity Synergistic synchronicity Using every wrinkle and groove To prove that your mind can move fast enough to keep up with this linguistic clusterfuck that my mind makes up when it runs amok
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
Ignition
I wish, just for moment, that I could show you how you look to me. How even your simplest of creations are a constant inspiration. Not because they give me ideas or contribute in a synergistic manner with my own works. It’s because your pieces of literary and artistic genius give me hope that one day my own pieces will no longer be this muddled, contorted maelstrom of chaos and damnable poetry. They give me happiness when I sorely lack even a shred of joy. They enable me to bravely face the demons of my work, in hopes of quelling their ceaseless screams, or destroying them all together. In the end, your positivity helps me face the monsters that I have created to remind myself that this world will continue to beat me down, and that with the unknowing support of all of you, I can continue to fight.
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Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
Thank you
she gives me just enough, to keep coming back. only about the right amount, to tell myself she's real. real as tornadoes. real as eyes on potatoes. real as two souls intermingling chaotic cosmic chemicals. synergistic bonding elements. but how do you transmit energy over long distance?
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
Love super highway
numerically life makes sense sequences trace the path of least resistance, where solutions are least tense. numerically I can see the patterns, they guide our breaths. I try to rest. it gets intense. gut tense. tight. breathing helps. the obvious release. synch complete. energy replete only to rise again. charging with my twin, seeing him. that grin. charging for the days ahead, the weak bodies need cures. synchronicity leads us to Her, she has it all. leaving nothing behind, until it too falls. and as the season changes, and the year cycles again, firmament expanding within, vision then begins to cloud and dampen. the synergistic flow within strengthens. visions provide the options. the energy flow slows, perception now mandatory. the days grow darker rebirth on the other side of winter. I await anxiously, patiently, recharging….
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
11:22
The Immortal Melting Man no.4 I visited my lovers grave today Its been several lifetimes since ive seen her A woman, among so many other humans, who inspired me to love Her exuberance for life made me love her And even next to her grave, weather worn and faded with time, the same sort Of vibrancy, emanated from the gargoyle i had built to watch over her rest I was not  in love with this woman The sacrifice involved with being in love is so wasteful I loved this woman The mere fact she was alive, her mannerisms, her physical presence She made want to love life and find joy in everything in it As easily as waking up, i loved her As effortless as winking, i loved her For a time, my never ending life was synergistic with another, however temporary But it has been so very very long Time has robbed me of many things The color of her eyes, the sound of her voice, the smell of her skin, the warmth of her touch Her name... The grave i made for her, is surrounded by so much beauty Its a place that should inspire me and my memory, or what little remains of it Among so many of the dead, i return to this spot once a year and stare at the patch of earth that holds my love And i remember nothing more than the fact that i loved her
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
The Immortal Melting Man 4
Bravery and fear, Rolling laughter and flowing tears, Are the two opposites, yet so synergistic, The barriers that hold our foundation, even a ***** in it can be cataclysmic An outside stimuli, that shattered me within, That sent me hurtling, into an unstoppable tail spin, As I lay in a pool of my own negativity, that’s when I heard it call, My inner voice, that did not let make me take the fall A spark of motivation, a bright, glistening Ray of hope, That thawed me from the ice I was frozen in, and let me stand wide and tall, as I walked unscathed from the fiery smoke, Nothing is impossible, No one is improbable, Except my inner voice So rejoice, And let your mind and your soul channel out all the noise, Of judgement and hatred, The holy cleansing, the pathway to be pure and sacred, The best and truest version of myself, So I can walk through the valley that is unknown, And not be a lifeless bottle on a shelf, Let the world bring me down, break my will and my every bone, But leave no stone, unturned, My inner voice, burn baby burn.
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Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
My Inner Voice