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"telescoped" poems
they said they did it for efficiency's sake. birthed machine after machine, just to increase the rate                                   per                                  time. no god-given talent or skill, can defeat this adaptive assembly line. no man-     P no fire-         O no brain-       W no super-     E no will-      R it's flawless at first glance, and maybe even second. simply perfect to the naked eye; even the telescoped, i reckon. but under a microscope, it becomes simple to see, this single-purposed way of life isn't human; how can it be? just like control + C, control + V, i believe they've synchronized simplicity.   believe they've synchronized simplicity.                 they've synchronized simplicity.                               synchronized simplicity.                                                        simplicity.                                                                         .                                                                         .yticilpmis                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht eveileb                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht eveileb i                                                                                        ,V + lortnoc ,C + lortnoc ekil tsuj                                         ?eb ti nac woh ;namuh t’nsi efil fo yaw desoprup-elgnis siht                                                           ,ees ot elpmis semoceb ti .epocsorcim a rednu tub                                     .nokcer i ,depocselet eht neve ;eye dekan eht ot tcefrep ylpmis                                                        .dnoces neve ebyam dna ,ecnalg tsrif ta sselwalf s’ti                                                                                                                            R      -lliw on                                                                                                                          E     -repus on                                                                                                                       W       -niarb on                                                                                                                         O         -erif on                                                                                                                            P     -nam on                                                                              .enil ylbmessa evitpada siht taefed nac                                                                                                 ,lliks ro tnelat nevig-dog on                                                                                                       .emit                                                                                                                                               rep                                                                                                                                           etar eht esaercni ot tsuj                                                                                           ,enihcam retfa enihcam dehtrib                                                                          .ekas s’ycneiciffe rof ti did yeht dias yeht
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Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 10:15 PM UTC
synchronized simplicity
they said they did it for efficiency's sake. birthed machine after machine, just to increase the rate                                   per                                  time. no god-given talent or skill, can defeat this adaptive assembly line. no man-     P no fire-         O no brain-       W no super-     E no will-      R it's flawless at first glance, and maybe even second. simply perfect to the naked eye; even the telescoped, i reckon. but under a microscope, it becomes simple to see, this single-purposed way of life isn't human; how can it be? just like control + C, control + V, i believe they've synchronized simplicity.   believe they've synchronized simplicity.                 they've synchronized simplicity.                               synchronized simplicity.                                                        simplicity.                                                                         .                                                                         .yticilpmis                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht eveileb                                                                         .yticilpmis dezinorhcnys ev'yeht eveileb i                                                                                        ,V + lortnoc ,C + lortnoc ekil tsuj                                         ?eb ti nac woh ;namuh t’nsi efil fo yaw desoprup-elgnis siht                                                           ,ees ot elpmis semoceb ti .epocsorcim a rednu tub                                     .nokcer i ,depocselet eht neve ;eye dekan eht ot tcefrep ylpmis                                                        .dnoces neve ebyam dna ,ecnalg tsrif ta sselwalf s’ti                                                                                                                            R      -lliw on                                                                                                                          E     -repus on                                                                                                                       W       -niarb on                                                                                                                         O         -erif on                                                                                                                            P     -nam on                                                                              .enil ylbmessa evitpada siht taefed nac                                                                                                 ,lliks ro tnelat nevig-dog on                                                                                                       .emit                                                                                                                                               rep                                                                                                                                           etar eht esaercni ot tsuj                                                                                           ,enihcam retfa enihcam dehtrib                                                                          .ekas s’ycneiciffe rof ti did yeht dias yeht
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45
The face of the precipice is black with lovers; The sun above them is a bag of nails; the spring's First rivers hide among their hair. Goliath plunges his hand into the poisoned well And bows his head and feels my feet walk through his brain. The children chasing butterflies turn around and see him there With his hand in the well and my body growing from his head, And are afraid. They drop their nets and walk into the wall like smoke. The smooth plain with its mirrors listens to the cliff Like a basilisk eating flowers. And the children, lost in the shadows of the catacombs, Call to the mirrors for help: 'Strong-bow of salt, cutlass of memory, Write on my map the name of every river.' A flock of banners fight their way through the telescoped forest And fly away like birds towards the sound of roasting meat. Sand falls into the boiling rivers through the telescopes' mouths And forms clear drops of acid with petals of whirling flame. Heraldic animals wade through the asphyxia of planets, Butterflies burst from their skins and grow long tongues like plants, The plants play games with a suit of mail like a cloud. Mirrors write Goliath's name upon my forehead, While the children are killed in the smoke of the catacombs And lovers float down from the cliffs like rain.
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Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
Salvador Dali - by David Gascoyne
i've a plundering urge to whom it is absurd,                      the black teeth                      the blood scribes                      the woe, the whither,                                                the word i felt seen   from afar telescoped warmth  cups my right shoulder and i expand from shrivel   in your forgiving light are you my soilmate ? for you i prepare scents   beading from my most sweaty regions        a moist sporing    emits in nifty allium spritzes i stammer to a standing position                           and exercise my full height sporting,            i swing and tap an annihilated aluminum bat               sounding out my specific code of fidelations                    resonation through the ground                      and suddenly you are near                     receiving the humming                   up the souls of your doughy bare feet                          you shiver i prance wildly and perfect kilter in my hips i offer to preen you i present you with a pyramid of spittle balloons i **** myself a little i sink my teeth into your side    (it's not 'your jam'     but we recover the mood) i give chase to you for you to be chased and it's a wild kind of keen fun          and you are a madcap display of laughter and wide smiles and   within     i feel a gordian nest            of some lust manoeuvre  (maybe we can copulate face-to-face ?) pondering scars     wounds that were much deserved the white meat    the bright stars    delivered who is rude to the rule       of what is ours ?   i knew you magnesium burn    and unwholesomely dauntless   bold   your portfolio always within an easy reach your passionate simmering might    you branded my eye and now we're similar    mites in a feather simian partners surveying territory needs and then you’re gone again         vanished        and we are distant minds that strike the hour together                                 like before between our signals I am met with cross chatter my hemispheres bicker and retorting memories barrage         refunding the past     and taking you away from me i am a mating dunce once more              i shrivel
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May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 9:00 PM UTC
mating prance
i've a plundering urge to whom it is absurd,                      the black teeth                      the blood scribes                      the woe, the whither,                                                the word i felt seen   from afar telescoped warmth  cups my right shoulder and i expand from shrivel   in your forgiving light are you my soilmate ? for you i prepare scents   beading from my most sweaty regions        a moist sporing    emits in nifty allium spritzes i stammer to a standing position                           and exercise my full height sporting,            i swing and tap an annihilated aluminum bat               sounding out my specific code of fidelations                    resonation through the ground                      and suddenly you are near                     receiving the humming                   up the souls of your doughy bare feet                          you shiver i prance wildly and perfect kilter in my hips i offer to preen you i present you with a pyramid of spittle balloons i **** myself a little i sink my teeth into your side    (it's not 'your jam'     but we recover the mood) i give chase to you for you to be chased and it's a wild kind of keen fun          and you are a madcap display of laughter and wide smiles and   within     i feel a gordian nest            of some lust manoeuvre  (maybe we can copulate face-to-face ?) pondering scars     wounds that were much deserved the white meat    the bright stars    delivered who is rude to the rule       of what is ours ?   i knew you magnesium burn    and unwholesomely dauntless   bold   your portfolio always within an easy reach your passionate simmering might    you branded my eye and now we're similar    mites in a feather simian partners surveying territory needs and then you’re gone again         vanished        and we are distant minds that strike the hour together                                 like before between our signals I am met with cross chatter my hemispheres bicker and retorting memories barrage         refunding the past     and taking you away from me i am a mating dunce once more              i shrivel
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54
Under the microscope, the microcosm of hope being telescoped into your eyes. Who out there denies that they have never been intrigued,have never walked the seven leagues to find inside themselves the mind that is their own, Is it me, am I all alone in this,do the stars not shine outside these bars of mine? Underneath the microscope the seeds of hope shall grow,shall know me yet,before you forget me.
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Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
Levels crossing
I've walked up and down these city streets Left my prints along the beach Searching for that which I need But seldom is it within reach Every nook and cranny in my home Climbed high the mountain top alone Never sure of where it's gone The illusive poem Day and night I will not rest This poem to find I've made my quest I've laid it out at my behest There's nothing needed more than this I've called up everyone I know Rang the Vatican in Rome I will not stop my on the go Until I find this poem I've trudged the jungles of the South More places than I dare to count And still have yet to figure out How all this came about I'll keep on with my keeping on Never bowing to the loss of hope Because deep inside one day I know I will find this poem I've looked up among the blinking stars Telescoped Venus and Mars Held up signs to passing cars But failed to look deep in the heart You'd have thought I would have known The one place I failed to go That's where it was all along The illusive poem
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May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
The Illusive Poem
That lopper-thingie on the end of a pole Indelicately intrudes among the leaves Telescoped out, its harsh geometry Unnatural among the greenery There seeking out an elusive apple spared The nightly browsings of the day-shy deer Or the nightly pillagings of raccoons Who destroy more than they will ever eat But there’s that apple – careful, careful – snip: And down it falls, with an apple-saucy flip!
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Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
The Last of the Anna Apples
I celebrate the sun A sweet warm yellow That dawns on my cheeks Harvested from the Fertile fields of infinity Ancient stardust sprinkled Over the wet sand I celebrate the waves The shrieking birds and city Sprawling at my back I celebrate the song Of my time-worn body Tumbling like a leaf In a time-worn world Coming and going As might please it To come and go I celebrate this Life telescoped into a fraction Of its expanding breadth As though someone said "To see a world In a grain of sand" To which I'd say And to celebrate it To celebrate it No other time than now
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Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 3:09 AM UTC
Celebrate