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"terminates" poems
Where goes the time when it flies? Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity. Smudge by lucidity smeared by simplicity tainted by intelligibility. Tempus fugit as in time flies. Sharply distressing with painful feelings to the point of mental instability morning or night we become possessed with its mystic dealings. Where goes the time when it runs? Not a solitary explanation is found. It happens and it won’t stop until life terminates as well without cause. Derived of rationalisation lacking understanding short of justification bursting with vindication persistently and with conviction. Where goes the time when it sails? From the second that we’re born. Where were we existing? We cannot be so sure Cannot recollect the past Not for the first five of our years Memory so blur, so shadowy Hazy with distortions obscure and confusing Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect. Where goes the time when it escapes? The chronology of life so mysterious. Nothing can solve its ambiguity for time is a complex case with an infinity of secrets. What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks drawbacks and obstacles obstructions and conundrums to take care of before time perishes away and leaves us stranded in oblivion. Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries, the high and mighty of ambiguities. Show us mercy and explain we are not detectives of secrecies your spell with us reflects on the whodunits. Oh time of things past and yet to come give us a clue as to what is to derive! “Remember” it softly replies “Make most of your lives” “Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
Ode to Time
Where goes the time when it flies? Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity. Smudge by lucidity smeared by simplicity tainted by intelligibility. Tempus fugit as in time flies. Sharply distressing with painful feelings to the point of mental instability morning or night we become possessed with its mystic dealings. Where goes the time when it runs? Not a solitary explanation is found. It happens and it won’t stop until life terminates as well without cause. Derived of rationalisation lacking understanding short of justification bursting with vindication persistently and with conviction. Where goes the time when it sails? From the second that we’re born. Where were we existing? We cannot be so sure Cannot recollect the past Not for the first five of our years Memory so blur, so shadowy Hazy with distortions obscure and confusing Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect. Where goes the time when it escapes? The chronology of life so mysterious. Nothing can solve its ambiguity for time is a complex case with an infinity of secrets. What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks drawbacks and obstacles obstructions and conundrums to take care of before time perishes away and leaves us stranded in oblivion. Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries, the high and mighty of ambiguities. Show us mercy and explain we are not detectives of secrecies your spell with us reflects on the whodunits. Oh time of things past and yet to come give us a clue as to what is to derive! “Remember” it softly replies “Make most of your lives” “Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
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If the soul is dyed by thoughts, I will rest in my reason. By following my just nature, I will let my desire find its termination. For I am made of the stars. I will let my spirit shine. I am a rising star, not a falling one. I am divine. Nothing outside changes the value of my shining nature. Despite criticism or praise, nothing shall perturb me. My loveliness terminates in itself. My beauty evolves with the seasons. I will love my nature. I will rest in my reason. My flesh desires sugar, but sugar rots the soul. To nurture the character of my mind, I’ll feast on the fruits of wisdom. I’ll feed my soul thoughts ripe in virtue and I’ll let my spirit shine. For tranquility is nothing but a good ordering of the mind. I will not be troubled in any season. When my flesh desires treason, I will rest in my reason.
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Jan 24, 2023
Jan 24, 2023 at 12:53 PM UTC
Rest in Reason
Time terminates all inner truths. Years will pass, we are the hare, And time is the tortoise. We will wake, from this delightful dream, and find ourselves Excluded from the final prize. Down your pens now, poets, live, live, live! Take risks, love freely, be daring, try sharing, Be the hare, but be aware, You’ll look around one day and there’ll be nothing there; Up in front, a smiling beast in a shell Will watch you crumple, overtaken, Speed is futile, It’s the journey that counts.
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Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
Talk of a Tortoise (will the hare dare?)
I am just me. A single being. A beginning and an end. I am just me. An individual. My character and personality and morality belong to myself. I am just me. A human alone. My heart is mine alone to own. I am just me. A person all my own. My worth terminates in myself alone.
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Sep 8, 2023
Sep 8, 2023 at 1:07 PM UTC
It’s Just Me
594 The Battle fought between the Soul And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One— No News of it is had abroad— Its Bodiless Campaign Establishes, and terminates— Invisible—Unknown— Nor History—record it— As Legions of a Night The Sunrise scatters—These endure— Enact—and terminate—
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2.4k
The Battle fought between the Soul
Not long ago, the writer of these lines, In the mad pride of intellectuality, Maintained “the power of words”—denied that ever A thought arose within the human brain Beyond the utterance of the human tongue: And now, as if in mockery of that boast, Two words—two foreign soft dissyllables— Italian tones, made only to be murmured By angels dreaming in the moonlit “dew That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,”— Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart, Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought, Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions Than even the seraph harper, Israfel, (Who has “the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures,”) Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken. The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand. With thy dear name as text, though hidden by thee, I cannot write—I cannot speak or think— Alas, I cannot feel; for ’tis not feeling, This standing motionless upon the golden Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams, Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista, And thrilling as I see, upon the right, Upon the left, and all the way along, Amid empurpled vapors, far away To where the prospect terminates—thee only!
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1.7k
To Marie Louise (Shew) (II)
Mankind destroyeth another Predicted long ago; Mankind killeth sister and brother Predicted long ago; Mankind plundereth the earth Predicted long ago; Mankind eliminates the newborn Stained blood upon church snow; Mankind terminates with weapon's Predicted long ago; Mankind to God they get angry and question Predicted long ago; Mankind escapeth with addiction Predicted long ago; Truth bringer's sit in prison Predicted long ago; Politicians ****** with unlawful invention's Predicted long ago; Immoral parading of falsehood Predicted long ago; Thugs and dope in the neighborhood's Predicted long ago; Earthquake's in diverse places Predicted long ago; Mankind changing natural faces Predicted long ago; Mankind of their father the devil Predicted long ago; Mankind worshipping hell's level Predicted long ago; War's and rumour's of war Predicted long ago; Syria turning to a ruinous heap Predicted Isaiah 17:1, For thou whom don't know. Murderer's stealeth for keep's Predicted long ago; Beast's dressing up as sheep Predicted long ago; Hatred from their bellies They get hired on whom they know. Dollar bills come to naught Whilst debt in every abode grows. Unorthodox affection's Like bloomed flower's show. Sign's in the sun and moon Predicted long ago; Prophet's telleth truth beyond the tomb Predicted long ago; The world is in chaos Predicted long ago; Iran joining with Russia Predicted long ago; China practicing for war games Predicted long ago; Revelation 9:16, nuclear bang, An Oriental blow; A false prophet to bring religion's together Predicted long ago; With the Antichrist as his helper Predicted long ago; Underground shelter's Where rich men hide their woes. Whilst some prediction's hath happened already Predicted long ago; More art being fulfilled Predicted long ago; More to cometh Predicted long ago; Soon Christ's light shalt shineth Predicted long ago; Every man to bow their feature's Predicted long ago; King of king, lord of Lord's Whom many hath rejected before all they know. Broken glass in blown out stores Predicted long ago; A disappearance of many Christian's(rapture) Predicted long ago; World war three At the step's of thou And me; Predicted long ago....... ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Prophecy
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Predicted long ago
Mankind destroyeth another Predicted long ago; Mankind killeth sister and brother Predicted long ago; Mankind plundereth the earth Predicted long ago; Mankind eliminates the newborn Stained blood upon church snow; Mankind terminates with weapon's Predicted long ago; Mankind to God they get angry and question Predicted long ago; Mankind escapeth with addiction Predicted long ago; Truth bringer's sit in prison Predicted long ago; Politicians ****** with unlawful invention's Predicted long ago; Immoral parading of falsehood Predicted long ago; Thugs and dope in the neighborhood's Predicted long ago; Earthquake's in diverse places Predicted long ago; Mankind changing natural faces Predicted long ago; Mankind of their father the devil Predicted long ago; Mankind worshipping hell's level Predicted long ago; War's and rumour's of war Predicted long ago; Syria turning to a ruinous heap Predicted Isaiah 17:1, For thou whom don't know. Murderer's stealeth for keep's Predicted long ago; Beast's dressing up as sheep Predicted long ago; Hatred from their bellies They get hired on whom they know. Dollar bills come to naught Whilst debt in every abode grows. Unorthodox affection's Like bloomed flower's show. Sign's in the sun and moon Predicted long ago; Prophet's telleth truth beyond the tomb Predicted long ago; The world is in chaos Predicted long ago; Iran joining with Russia Predicted long ago; China practicing for war games Predicted long ago; Revelation 9:16, nuclear bang, An Oriental blow; A false prophet to bring religion's together Predicted long ago; With the Antichrist as his helper Predicted long ago; Underground shelter's Where rich men hide their woes. Whilst some prediction's hath happened already Predicted long ago; More art being fulfilled Predicted long ago; More to cometh Predicted long ago; Soon Christ's light shalt shineth Predicted long ago; Every man to bow their feature's Predicted long ago; King of king, lord of Lord's Whom many hath rejected before all they know. Broken glass in blown out stores Predicted long ago; A disappearance of many Christian's(rapture) Predicted long ago; World war three At the step's of thou And me; Predicted long ago....... ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Prophecy
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I look outside and wonder when will time fly faster, (only when I want it to, of course) so I can be released from this cage and roam free across the plain of grass that gives me surface from the gravity that  in and of itself keeps me grounded because without it I would be lost and floating without direction; out of this world and into a place that welcomes my existence with dark open arms but terminates my life and suffocates my breathing calm because oxygen is absent and breathing is a healthy habit, so I must relax and take a breath to get through this day of madness.
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Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 10:43 AM UTC
One (L0o0ng Workday) Sentence
Sent away from the church To keep her hipsters away And that almost transparent dress That terminates Several inches above the knees Told that she was, A stumbling block to the sheep Soiling the mind of the male congregation The pastor still in the brackets Denying the chosen ones The power of the Holy Spirit And the Spirit of God was moving Above the surface of the waters When Adam and Eve were very naked. Told she stirred the Spirit of desire The spaghetti dress Starting too early and ending too late Cooking immorality in the society Hungry men, say lustful Evil minded Yet they claim the Spirit reigns Overcome by their selfish nature A willing Spirit But a weak flesh They blame it on the church lady And I have never seen A bull rape-and-murder And never seen also A dressed Freshian cow And they call her church demon.
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Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:27 AM UTC
CHURCH DEMON
old                   rolling stock                 late at night,                 quiet, cold,      silent & still     in loves last,        dusty, dark         sideing yard,   we are                 *un                                 coupling*              From now                      you are the past                                Blame that was cast                        has set fast.                         Loves last link,     our                        boys,    will be bro               ken... more.         Now only ha          lf mine. We both     saw red. The insipid signal lamp. I could not hold us all together. I couldn’t halt your pull away. Not with acts nor words nor love.  and so, with out Destined for                                                                     different                                 lines.                                     Disembark. Stand clear. This train terminates here.
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Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
un\\coupling
No one is who they were yesterday. Minuscule adaptations form with each sunrise and go unnoticed until you look back at an old photograph, or think about something that happened with an old friend who is now a stranger that you know nothing about. You are your own doppelganger. The girl sitting in the theatre playing obnoxious games with her loud, aspiring individualistic friends seems like a stranger to me. It is impossible to pinpoint the moment when things started to change and I lost sight of that girl, and who she wanted to be. At the least, I wonder when everything started to shift. What caused the imbalance? Now I sit alone in classes I don't care to pursue with no sense of aspiration towards anything. I remember all of the laughter and the sleepovers, gossiping about everything. I remember random details and insignificant everyday stories that could take up hours upon hours of reiterating. When a friendship terminates what are you supposed to do with all of your old shared secrets? Where are you supposed to put those memories? The girl I am right now doesn't talk to those people anymore and I can hardly remember what it felt like to be in her shoes, and all I really have is knowing things about the people that they used to be. CVT
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
My Former Family
Out across the Northern sea she sits serenely watching me as I sit watching her two chairs,one space and Skype lets me look on her face. So beautiful, I'm full of glee but she sits quietly watching me and sees in telescopic sight a man that might appeal and could he feel her heart beat tenderly? somewhere across the Northern sea. I felt the winds ride in her hair as the ocean carries me off,where we'll meet,and yes, her heart beats tenderly. I'll be her picture on the wall,with colours bright so when she calls to me across the Northern sea, I'll be in frame Just wait and she will call my name. This type of Skyping is no game for children or for lesser men. When oceans rise and flow quite freely from her eyes I shall sail across the sea to be wallpapered on her screen,compute the distance,data insistence regulates and eventually terminates the nightly talk. tonight I walk tomorrow free for we will skype again, I see the Northern lights she sees in telescopic sight this man who waits upon the Southern shore wanting more. Oh internet you'll not regret this meeting of the continents and quite content I sit and wait until the data gate is opened up for me. she sits and waits somewhere across the Northern sea.
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Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
Dates.
under pressure terminates leisure quit it whether it is loud or rather. no need to whack when it can tact. time to sack is the perfect slack. let it not flack when it can pact.
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 6:40 AM UTC
pressure
I have tried to give birth to a new and improved version of my vision Exulting blips of exactitude and ambition Flashes of pretension on a screen of pending dreams Lacking mobility and projection Inertia writhes I'm mainly advertising trying to sell and intrigue To those who have enough eloquence to persuade my predilection and schemes Endorsing me providing lifelines and pure consciousness Lacking the force of extorted themes and exulting worthiness Cleansing my mind of the mocking bird's trash heap Help me dissemble the falsified declarations and professions of fiends I want to be pristine I beg thee to teach and galvanize me Endowing me with inexorable sight Keeping me keen and full of bold might I am willing to fight Bring me to the surface of these turbulent seas No need to mention my frailties and anxieties All I ask is a breath from the surface of true realities The urgency constrains my needs for rejuvenation and appreciations For all those little beautiful things that once meant the world to me Like pink carnations Sleeplessness morphs into spells of insomnious hauntings Stunting my contractions It's completely and utterly exhausting A labor deprived of true initiative and wanting It may sound silly but everything is contradictory It is these pains that leave me incomplete, ineffectual, and in paralyzing omission Excluded and feeling great depths of oppression Despairing and kept in solitary confinement Suffering more than I'd like to profess Distressing the matters that cave into my chest An infiltration of insurmountable anguish Abolished Untouched by a shoulder or hand of accommodation Is it selfish to push for this magnitude of isolation? I crave cultivation I want to grow into the Giant Sequoia But the fires of self doubt leave my branches in ruins Smoke signals sending sirens A constant affliction It's all my own doing Contingency pleading for nourishment Somehow knowing thee and ye could constitute for something of legends Tell that to our reflections Or maybe it's the fear of fire that terminates our pregnancy Causing us to introvert instead of projecting Withholding both you and I from mastery
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Birth
I have tried to give birth to a new and improved version of my vision Exulting blips of exactitude and ambition Flashes of pretension on a screen of pending dreams Lacking mobility and projection Inertia writhes I'm mainly advertising trying to sell and intrigue To those who have enough eloquence to persuade my predilection and schemes Endorsing me providing lifelines and pure consciousness Lacking the force of extorted themes and exulting worthiness Cleansing my mind of the mocking bird's trash heap Help me dissemble the falsified declarations and professions of fiends I want to be pristine I beg thee to teach and galvanize me Endowing me with inexorable sight Keeping me keen and full of bold might I am willing to fight Bring me to the surface of these turbulent seas No need to mention my frailties and anxieties All I ask is a breath from the surface of true realities The urgency constrains my needs for rejuvenation and appreciations For all those little beautiful things that once meant the world to me Like pink carnations Sleeplessness morphs into spells of insomnious hauntings Stunting my contractions It's completely and utterly exhausting A labor deprived of true initiative and wanting It may sound silly but everything is contradictory It is these pains that leave me incomplete, ineffectual, and in paralyzing omission Excluded and feeling great depths of oppression Despairing and kept in solitary confinement Suffering more than I'd like to profess Distressing the matters that cave into my chest An infiltration of insurmountable anguish Abolished Untouched by a shoulder or hand of accommodation Is it selfish to push for this magnitude of isolation? I crave cultivation I want to grow into the Giant Sequoia But the fires of self doubt leave my branches in ruins Smoke signals sending sirens A constant affliction It's all my own doing Contingency pleading for nourishment Somehow knowing thee and ye could constitute for something of legends Tell that to our reflections Or maybe it's the fear of fire that terminates our pregnancy Causing us to introvert instead of projecting Withholding both you and I from mastery
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Holland park to Queensway Safe as houses North Acton to White City Stay on the train Finchley Road to Wembley Park "All change please" "This train terminates here" West Ham to Star Lane 6 minutes to walk 6 minutes to wait. Elephant & Castle to Lambeth North IWM you know what I mean! East to West North to South Oyster at the ready! LNDN O I love it!
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
LNDN on LU
I have reached the end of this corridor. The space between the walls either side; where I stand. This space is tiny. I have been funnelled here. The route was so direct, so easy. The easiest. The end, so predictable and terminal. We walk this path so well. Along the way we read such inspirational things in such cheap places. The sentiments and motivational words surround us so much that we are numb. The inertia set in years ago, but sparks have ignited in me in these late times.. Each one all the more misguided and further from reality. Far from this reality. I suppose, where I crave to be? The results are unsuccessful. My dreams flicker through grey matter like remnants of a Universe lost. The distance from whence I came? So great that I can only produce tears in response, as I comprehend it. Silent ones. Nothing should be spoken of this - I see that now. Deaf ears
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
Youth Terminates
Is the dream finally broken? Can not be deciphered, the writing of destiny! Then, wandering towards the stark reality. In purity of soul, remembering Him, Determined determination. In receiving the order, No more pointless crossings. What a lust called! All are illusory, all are mortal, When the day terminates, all will be covered in deep darkness. No more the temptation of hypocrisy, No more, inevitable bleeding of the heart, O Indestructible! Permeate my heart, Unconditional return to You.
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Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 5:22 AM UTC
Reoccurrence
Quiet evening on the porch . Explosions in the distance , the  soldiers are getting small , incoming ! Attention subjugated from intense light to the west ! It's storming in Alabama tonight ! I'm sure it is ! The insects , mesmerized by porch light , are growing in numbers , catapulted East by violent winds , the prequel to our own battle with Thor and his army ! An entire Division , preceded by artillery , wave after wave ! Refugees have flooded the screen in rear combat operations tonight , confused , terrified faces are flashing before my very eyes ! Sergeants are screaming commands on both sides of the road as the skirmish recedes !  Rain ... Puddles .. At six a.m. as the fog begins to lift , siren of whippoorwills , ambulances rush forward to gather the dead , the toy soldiers have bled all they can ..Their really just plastic anyway ! Play things , hallucinations , flashbacks , whatever word conjures , terminates repetitive mind games , conflict witnessed many years ago , committed to endless replay , delivered by a Summer storm from Alabama last night !
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
Toy Soldiers and Thunder
Head smacked With an abrupt thwack. Nose aggressively shoved in the corner; Followed by the crazed rant Of an old school rhymer; Unaware their current act....chant.... in the Future be court docket tabled.... Labled... And designated a "child abuse" crime: Breaking news at prime time "How dare you speak to me? Didn't your mother... Or father teach you proper manners? Look here, look listen! Directly into my eyes see! So... I may know you understand clearly. Little girls (and boys) are to be 'seen and not heard.' You disrespectful **** " thwackity thwack" A hard double hit reverberates   (Emotionally terminates) As a forceful chalked blue Cue Smacks... Cracks... The backside of the child's red Pigtailed Head (Thrusting it forward in an eight ball call shot Designated for the left corner wall slot). Nose banking the wall with a hard ****** Dripping blood (In full crimson flood), Invading her mouth with copper waste (Mixed in with the salty taste Of tears falling in silent haste). Destined to dry with a tinge of rust and crust. Followed by a loss of parental guidance trust. Daring not a single peep-- In weep. The child covers her bloodied mouth (With trembling hands)-- Muffling emotional cries at an alarming rate-- (In a fearful state), Dreading a forced follow foul stroke: That a single sound could provoke. Contemplating her prelection: In extreme sudation. She wondered why her mother.... Father.. Encouraged her ranting chatter And told her that all questions matter? Didn't they know that bubbly banter... Chatter... Would cause her Disciplinary stature (Possible nose fracture) And a guaranteed position in the corner (Under the care of an old timing Rhyming.... Bitter.... Head splitting Sitter)? Marie Moldovan ©️ 2021
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Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 4:49 PM UTC
"Left corner wall slot"
Head smacked With an abrupt thwack. Nose aggressively shoved in the corner; Followed by the crazed rant Of an old school rhymer; Unaware their current act....chant.... in the Future be court docket tabled.... Labled... And designated a "child abuse" crime: Breaking news at prime time "How dare you speak to me? Didn't your mother... Or father teach you proper manners? Look here, look listen! Directly into my eyes see! So... I may know you understand clearly. Little girls (and boys) are to be 'seen and not heard.' You disrespectful **** " thwackity thwack" A hard double hit reverberates   (Emotionally terminates) As a forceful chalked blue Cue Smacks... Cracks... The backside of the child's red Pigtailed Head (Thrusting it forward in an eight ball call shot Designated for the left corner wall slot). Nose banking the wall with a hard ****** Dripping blood (In full crimson flood), Invading her mouth with copper waste (Mixed in with the salty taste Of tears falling in silent haste). Destined to dry with a tinge of rust and crust. Followed by a loss of parental guidance trust. Daring not a single peep-- In weep. The child covers her bloodied mouth (With trembling hands)-- Muffling emotional cries at an alarming rate-- (In a fearful state), Dreading a forced follow foul stroke: That a single sound could provoke. Contemplating her prelection: In extreme sudation. She wondered why her mother.... Father.. Encouraged her ranting chatter And told her that all questions matter? Didn't they know that bubbly banter... Chatter... Would cause her Disciplinary stature (Possible nose fracture) And a guaranteed position in the corner (Under the care of an old timing Rhyming.... Bitter.... Head splitting Sitter)? Marie Moldovan ©️ 2021
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Love a Test Love terminates but at a real test Which a lover has just to celebrate With all its odds and trials at best It is a state and one has be straight I take your love as charm so warm My sweetheart be mine under stress As atrue lover I will follow the norms Even pain in distress remains a bless My God is my love my love is my God Where I don't have cheeks to complain Whether I go through just soft or hard If you ask me just the taste I can't explain Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2018 Golden Glow
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Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 4:09 AM UTC
Love A Test
Light, from a billion years too late Creating states of existence In an essence of brilliance On a journey that deliberates deliverance. Belonging to all These black nights filled with pockets of galactical, manifested mystical’s – of fire and pure delight. Welcoming all, to join them in a dancing rage Screaming to all who look upon their fate Come and join us and live among this artificial state The black holes creating galaxies of continuous rate. Follow me on this journey of magnificence Stars falling in from everywhere Dust clouds manifesting inside out Colours only seen to believe their brilliance Planets colliding Solar systems offering silence Moons defending restless meteors that seem lost at the gate. A planet resides west offering food, shelter and light Are you ready to hold on tight? Entering the atmosphere with the weight of an eternal flight Help me Ready to die with overwhelming fight A raw silence hits the delicate shields of plasma that give off a radiance of fire. Shades of blue await Living eyes that are here to communicate The journey is only beginning As this one Terminates.
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Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 3:54 AM UTC
Interstellar
Sand dunes at the end of June, A prolonging urge to hold your hand, A quiet and pleasant moon Though unaccompanied by you, Your departure was non-existent, Vague- As dew kisses good bye Knowing well, That this storm may not end yet, My heart sinks low, As all my energy drains, Emptying my veins, Slowly and partially- As dew kisses good bye For the next many years, I mourn in pain, Exultant once- I remember the feeling of love at first sight, As winter engaged, It would remain static but now terminates in the summers, As dew kisses good bye I whisper in the dark, Remember my name, love? I hear no voice, Alone with a silhouette of myself- I spill words on a piece of paper, Writing hastily- As dew kisses good bye
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Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
As dew kisses good bye-
To die in my own arms. To experience rapture in my world encompasses a field of hindrance. Undoubtably failing, to seek those who comfort me in a world of nonfulfillment. A confined receptacle of positive emotions struggling to be kept shut tight, as I meander the streets of the bold and proper. Unconventional workings of the mind projected by waves of sound ****** causes discomfort to those who have listened in company of me. Notability has been afar, since I had last possessed it so greatly. I am now the last of what to be known, as the person I once was to be. Lust awaits behind a door, a door that has weakened with seniority. Love appears to be concealed in fear. Rejection is relative to love's own emotion. Lust is what terminates the opportunity of love, when oral phrasing is miscalculated from it's true meaning. Never have I been so doltish, and scatterbrained I seem to be. Alone I am It seems to me. Will solitude become my everlasting acquaintance? It's been surely devoted for quite some time, although I'd prefer to meet it's demise. Nevermore I seek to idolize, such a classification that rebuffs me. I'll keep to me and one day I shall see, It is but only me, who has been faithful to fidelity. Failure to remain in solidarity any longer, with thoughts I blindly accept. Denial will get myself nowhere, but a premature casket that aimed to be fulfilled by an obsolete version of me. I have yet to find such love again. Nostalgia appears to be such a unique function of the memory. Yet nostalgia for me, causes misery when reminding me of what I once had, and will forever fail to achieve again. Two malignant relatives haunt me as I attempt to dream of peace and tranquility. Malicious enemies such as depression and loneliness will forever cease my ability to dream. Opposing the peacefulness they provide the nightmare. But no nightmare is as gruesome or horrific as the constant reminder that, I am alone, And I will now know what it's like, To Die in My Own Arms.
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC
To Die in My Own Arms
To die in my own arms. To experience rapture in my world encompasses a field of hindrance. Undoubtably failing, to seek those who comfort me in a world of nonfulfillment. A confined receptacle of positive emotions struggling to be kept shut tight, as I meander the streets of the bold and proper. Unconventional workings of the mind projected by waves of sound ****** causes discomfort to those who have listened in company of me. Notability has been afar, since I had last possessed it so greatly. I am now the last of what to be known, as the person I once was to be. Lust awaits behind a door, a door that has weakened with seniority. Love appears to be concealed in fear. Rejection is relative to love's own emotion. Lust is what terminates the opportunity of love, when oral phrasing is miscalculated from it's true meaning. Never have I been so doltish, and scatterbrained I seem to be. Alone I am It seems to me. Will solitude become my everlasting acquaintance? It's been surely devoted for quite some time, although I'd prefer to meet it's demise. Nevermore I seek to idolize, such a classification that rebuffs me. I'll keep to me and one day I shall see, It is but only me, who has been faithful to fidelity. Failure to remain in solidarity any longer, with thoughts I blindly accept. Denial will get myself nowhere, but a premature casket that aimed to be fulfilled by an obsolete version of me. I have yet to find such love again. Nostalgia appears to be such a unique function of the memory. Yet nostalgia for me, causes misery when reminding me of what I once had, and will forever fail to achieve again. Two malignant relatives haunt me as I attempt to dream of peace and tranquility. Malicious enemies such as depression and loneliness will forever cease my ability to dream. Opposing the peacefulness they provide the nightmare. But no nightmare is as gruesome or horrific as the constant reminder that, I am alone, And I will now know what it's like, To Die in My Own Arms.
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