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"terminating" poems
Chant that you are brave, Even as your body begins to quake; Exclaim that you need not be saved, Endeavor to alter your own fate. Affirmations deserve more credit; Say anything enough and you'll believe. It's wholly possible to edit, A new response to fear needs to be conceived. Therapy is not at my beck and call, But willpower will help me revise, Prevent me from facing a dastardly fall, A pivoting, terminating demise.
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Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Affirmations
It was just a Kiss It was a fellas hangout Why I refused? Still don't know We were all there, ballers and players Ian was always there, behind Never fails to appear a Lover Tonight she is a drunkard No hold backs; No barrier "How long Adelaide, how long?" You can't kiss me in public I am not your side-chick No more , No more, NO! I've done it all, everything Come dear can we go home We can talk about this at .... **** you Adelaide! Sit down These are your friends, aren't they? Tell them who i am to you NOW! She's now the Boss, I get Bossed For your information, giggles! I'm pregnant and I'm not terminating Oh! Baby... Don't baby me... Gabby should have kept quiet 'Hm-mm Sorry can i excused?" Shut the **** up Gabriel! Are you saying you aint in this? Giggles! NG Gabby has a child ... "What! SLAP! Jeez! *** Its enough Ian! SLAP! Silence Long silence..... Tears, agony, wailing, pleadings Guess its more than just a kiss It always is Stupid...
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
"I should have kissed her..."
Just as dark rolls back and the sun rises nigh And dawns light can be seen in the eastern sky. From his forest home comes carefully and shy The deer with his headdress held proudly so high. His keen, bright eyes look sharply and true For danger learks but that's nothing new For the experience he has his rack does shew Ten terminating ends that his antlers do He steps forth, onto the grassy clearing Sensing no threat that he need bewaring He continues farther out, more bold and daring Making sure the grass is safe before sharing And just as he is about to feed On tender grass his most favorite indeed It hits his side and he starts to bleed For it has pierced him causing dire need Unable run, to the ground he does fall He coughs on his blood, losing it all And in the distance, hears a cheerful call "Hooray! I got him!" From a tree so tall What remained unknown to the wise, old buck The threat in a tree, such bad luck Waiting to tie a deer to the top of his truck A hunter, by who's bullet, the deer was struck. Please don't think that I am against hunting It's just the facts of life that I am confronting Because you'll see me here quietly munching On a deer steak I fried and am now lunching!
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Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
The Deer
She might laugh if she read this at the flat little version of her that lives in my mind. She may laugh at my comparison of her to a hideous sea spider but hear me out it could be touching. David Foster Wallace wrote: *“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience we do not have direct access to anyone or anything’s pain but our own; and even just the principles by which we can infer that others experience pain and have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain involve ******** philosophy— metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics.” *"[Lobsters] do have an exquisite tactile sense, one facilitated by hundreds of thousands of tiny hairs that protrude through their carapace. Although encased in what seems a solid, impenetrable armour, the lobster can receive stimuli and impressions from without as readily as if it possessed a soft and delicate skin.”* and so “We lift lobsters out of the bag or whatever retail container they came home in …whereupon some uncomfortable things start to happen. However stuporous the lobster is from the trip home, for instance, it tends to come alarmingly to life when placed in boiling water."* As much as I cannot comprehend the pain of the exquisitely tactile lobster in a *** of boiling water, I wonder if I could walk a mile in a lobster’s 8 minuscule shoes and I wonder what it might mean or not mean to her with her armoured yet acute exoskeleton to be back at home with her father. They might try to butter you up or snap elastic bands around your oversized claws and use a wooden spoon to try and nudge your thrashing, clinging arms back into the *** but remember: lobsters can live to be over 100 years old and grow to over 20 pounds in size which is very large for an aquatic insect and remember that they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws. And DFW famously said, “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.” and he's not a lobster either
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Considering the Lobster
She might laugh if she read this at the flat little version of her that lives in my mind. She may laugh at my comparison of her to a hideous sea spider but hear me out it could be touching. David Foster Wallace wrote: *“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience we do not have direct access to anyone or anything’s pain but our own; and even just the principles by which we can infer that others experience pain and have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain involve ******** philosophy— metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics.” *"[Lobsters] do have an exquisite tactile sense, one facilitated by hundreds of thousands of tiny hairs that protrude through their carapace. Although encased in what seems a solid, impenetrable armour, the lobster can receive stimuli and impressions from without as readily as if it possessed a soft and delicate skin.”* and so “We lift lobsters out of the bag or whatever retail container they came home in …whereupon some uncomfortable things start to happen. However stuporous the lobster is from the trip home, for instance, it tends to come alarmingly to life when placed in boiling water."* As much as I cannot comprehend the pain of the exquisitely tactile lobster in a *** of boiling water, I wonder if I could walk a mile in a lobster’s 8 minuscule shoes and I wonder what it might mean or not mean to her with her armoured yet acute exoskeleton to be back at home with her father. They might try to butter you up or snap elastic bands around your oversized claws and use a wooden spoon to try and nudge your thrashing, clinging arms back into the *** but remember: lobsters can live to be over 100 years old and grow to over 20 pounds in size which is very large for an aquatic insect and remember that they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws. And DFW famously said, “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.” and he's not a lobster either
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Hazed by the dire rope of death A subtle incandescence flickered A white light glimmered like **** Whilst hushed peaked a snicker Her smile an adequate sedative Terminating vivid estuaries A moment equally competitive In other eyes deemed honorary Mi corazón happened upon felicity Blessed be this origin of jubilee Freeze we shall in fair amenity Beneath this fine cherry tree
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Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
Lucy X
*“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience" "we do not have direct access" "to anyone or anything’s pain" "but our own;" "and even just the principles" "by which we can infer" "that others experience pain" "and have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain" "involve ******** philosophy—" "metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics.”* - From Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace David I've considered it and I think she might laugh if she read that a version of her briny and spined pint sized now resides in the depths of my mind, She might laugh at my comparison of her to a hideous sea spider but it’s because, as you say, one can neither comprehend the pain of an exquisitely tactile lobster in a *** of boiling water, nor walk a mile in it's eight lilliputian shoes So I am left to wonder what it might mean or not mean to her in her armoured yet acute exoskeleton to have quit school and be back to her fathers house on Prince Edward Island. and what I'd want to tell her is: They might try to butter you up, bridle your anger with blue rubber bands, Use their wooden spoons to nudge your thrashing, clinging arms back into the *** but as we know, lobsters can live to be over one hundred years old and grow to be over twenty pounds in size which is very large for an aquatic insect and they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws I know she knows how to use them. Which reminds me of something else you said: "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." A feeling I can understand Though I'm no more lobster than she
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Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
Lobster Shoes
*“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience" "we do not have direct access" "to anyone or anything’s pain" "but our own;" "and even just the principles" "by which we can infer" "that others experience pain" "and have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain" "involve ******** philosophy—" "metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics.”* - From Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace David I've considered it and I think she might laugh if she read that a version of her briny and spined pint sized now resides in the depths of my mind, She might laugh at my comparison of her to a hideous sea spider but it’s because, as you say, one can neither comprehend the pain of an exquisitely tactile lobster in a *** of boiling water, nor walk a mile in it's eight lilliputian shoes So I am left to wonder what it might mean or not mean to her in her armoured yet acute exoskeleton to have quit school and be back to her fathers house on Prince Edward Island. and what I'd want to tell her is: They might try to butter you up, bridle your anger with blue rubber bands, Use their wooden spoons to nudge your thrashing, clinging arms back into the *** but as we know, lobsters can live to be over one hundred years old and grow to be over twenty pounds in size which is very large for an aquatic insect and they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws I know she knows how to use them. Which reminds me of something else you said: "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." A feeling I can understand Though I'm no more lobster than she
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Life was void. It’s she, Opened the curly braces Of my life; My heart, Imbibed the input – Stream of her smiles; The output – “<3 <3” Got into an infinite loop On the soul’s own console; Sensing the love in return, Jumped to the function – Life: The Life with various parameters – Joy, sorrow, warm, pain Passed through a switch.. That returned “Love” on every case; Life was full of snickers At the mistakes of semicolons; Making the bytes of sweet memories Giga bytes to zetta bytes; Now, the time, As good code must, Terminating with a graceful End, Kissing her, Love!
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Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
Life without semicolon;
Stop telling me what to do, how to speak, how to feel. I'm not listening to you anymore. You don't control me I am reclaiming my body, my life I am reclaiming me For many years you had me restrained. I listened to every word that left your Lips Like the wind blowing through the trees I listened And I felt, and I heard…. And I hurt. You don't control me. I am reclaiming my body, my life I am reclaiming me And no matter how many times you afflict pain on me, Leaving me bruised and scarred I will not listen. My ears are clogged up to your voice And I will not listen. My feelings you cannot manipulate And I will not listen This mind control you once had over me is pulverized And I will not listen You still try to speak, demanding attention with every word that leaves your pitiful mouth Like you are the teacher and I am the student But is it not time for the student to become the teacher I will annihilate you, extinguish you, nuke and shatter you Until you are the one begging for my forgiveness Until you are the one deal dealing with the pain I dealt with for far too long Until you are the one that everyone abhors. You see… I've been dealing with you since the 5th grade. You are the pesky mosquito in my ear that I cannot assassinate. You are always there And I can't eradicate you You don't control me I am reclaiming my body, my life I am reclaiming me. Depression, anxiety I am terminating your hold over me This relationship is deceased. Your words are mute in my ear And I cannot listen.
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
Ode to My Mental Health
Stop telling me what to do, how to speak, how to feel. I'm not listening to you anymore. You don't control me I am reclaiming my body, my life I am reclaiming me For many years you had me restrained. I listened to every word that left your Lips Like the wind blowing through the trees I listened And I felt, and I heard…. And I hurt. You don't control me. I am reclaiming my body, my life I am reclaiming me And no matter how many times you afflict pain on me, Leaving me bruised and scarred I will not listen. My ears are clogged up to your voice And I will not listen. My feelings you cannot manipulate And I will not listen This mind control you once had over me is pulverized And I will not listen You still try to speak, demanding attention with every word that leaves your pitiful mouth Like you are the teacher and I am the student But is it not time for the student to become the teacher I will annihilate you, extinguish you, nuke and shatter you Until you are the one begging for my forgiveness Until you are the one deal dealing with the pain I dealt with for far too long Until you are the one that everyone abhors. You see… I've been dealing with you since the 5th grade. You are the pesky mosquito in my ear that I cannot assassinate. You are always there And I can't eradicate you You don't control me I am reclaiming my body, my life I am reclaiming me. Depression, anxiety I am terminating your hold over me This relationship is deceased. Your words are mute in my ear And I cannot listen.
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My college instituted a new policy today. In an effort to promote solidarity, All students, professors, service workers, Janitors, coaches, board members, Dining hall workers, librarians, baristas, Gardeners and printers Are required to mark their foreheads, A sort of branding if you will, With permanent marker. This is retroactive immediately. I had thought I had seen it all within week one: Lions, GPAs, phone numbers concealed by long bangs Personality traits, four letter words, names of significant others The very same that were crossed out as the bottom fell out, Rocket ships, Or what I'm assuming were rocket ships, Advertisements, slogans, “taken”. I also saw bar codes And statistics And long, non-terminating sequences. I looked at myself in the mirror And saw that I had not yet marked my forehead. I pulled out a sharpie And upon my face Highlighted my wrinkles. Because, who isn't tired of being a cog in the machine? And who doesn't worry about life otherwise?
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Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 5:30 PM UTC
The Institution We Are In
Spoken Word Poetry. Prosecute me. Feed me to the wolves. I cannot live               with what I have done to you. I am beastly. Pale behind the curtain. Thick with the deceit               you have cut through. You are calm. In this sea of heresy. You are the light in my day, illuminating. That's why it's frustrating, And grating, When I think of us copulating. Systematic mating.               Somewhat creating. All because I am hating Who you have made me in to. This pulsating,               agitating,                               being. Alienating instead of                           a l l e v i a t i n g                           this excruciating complexity.   I was detonating. And it -            it was fascinating. Not it. That was just penetrating. Suffocating and terminating my bond with you. Separating. So that I could begin accelerating And clearly  a r t i c u l a t i n g Who I really wanted to be. It was   i n c a p a c i t a t i n g. And yet intoxicating. Because you are what I want. Despite it all. I want you. So prosecute me. Please feed me to the wolves. I cannot live with what I have done to you. You are calm. Whilst I am on fire.
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Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
This Mistake
What does life have in store for me? Everything is coming together at last At this point, I would be afraid, but somehow I'm not, Future is approaching My personality changing And I'm almost seventeen. Wow Almost seventeen? I'm almost an adult and it's hard to realize this. I've been taking life in the perspective of an adult for some time now, but to become an adult to match my thoughts? I might finally act my age. I've got standardized tests to do I can't falter So many testings of different importances and knowledge levels are approaching and I've been so lucky to have been able to take a chemistry course of my caliber. But will I achieve my goal? I'm content and feeling full. a fullness that filled up the emptiness and anxiety pit inside me not more than eight months ago Wow Eight months ago? I've been living in my childhood city for about seven months. seven months. these months made me somewhat more than my usual okay they made me feel normal And that Love is for me And will be there for me True. My work ethic isn't how it used to be. True. My lack of influence and social acceptance aren't easy to avoid anymore. Perhaps, This is some kind of lesson? a... twisted lesson that involves the backstabbing of new "friends" they are Funny, Yet not. Accepting, Yet not. Envy and stupidity Ignorance I'm not any better in their eyes But I do not care I've been humiliated all too many times I feel Anger, Yet I shouldn't. This very school was chosen according to my research. So sometimes I feel like I've made a big mistake and that is all my fault. But it's like there weren't any other options either A family, that is short on money and barely afforded their children to go to school. Their story, repeats of every year that a new grade level comes into the picture. For as long as I've been in the 7th grade, I've remembered the struggle and the worry. I'm so sick of this infinite loop. So I will be the terminating condition stopping it at its roots. to destroy any chance of plant seed deciding to latch on to soil. the world doesn't need any more dead flowers.
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Jul 22, 2020
Jul 22, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
Reflections of a 16 year old.
What does life have in store for me? Everything is coming together at last At this point, I would be afraid, but somehow I'm not, Future is approaching My personality changing And I'm almost seventeen. Wow Almost seventeen? I'm almost an adult and it's hard to realize this. I've been taking life in the perspective of an adult for some time now, but to become an adult to match my thoughts? I might finally act my age. I've got standardized tests to do I can't falter So many testings of different importances and knowledge levels are approaching and I've been so lucky to have been able to take a chemistry course of my caliber. But will I achieve my goal? I'm content and feeling full. a fullness that filled up the emptiness and anxiety pit inside me not more than eight months ago Wow Eight months ago? I've been living in my childhood city for about seven months. seven months. these months made me somewhat more than my usual okay they made me feel normal And that Love is for me And will be there for me True. My work ethic isn't how it used to be. True. My lack of influence and social acceptance aren't easy to avoid anymore. Perhaps, This is some kind of lesson? a... twisted lesson that involves the backstabbing of new "friends" they are Funny, Yet not. Accepting, Yet not. Envy and stupidity Ignorance I'm not any better in their eyes But I do not care I've been humiliated all too many times I feel Anger, Yet I shouldn't. This very school was chosen according to my research. So sometimes I feel like I've made a big mistake and that is all my fault. But it's like there weren't any other options either A family, that is short on money and barely afforded their children to go to school. Their story, repeats of every year that a new grade level comes into the picture. For as long as I've been in the 7th grade, I've remembered the struggle and the worry. I'm so sick of this infinite loop. So I will be the terminating condition stopping it at its roots. to destroy any chance of plant seed deciding to latch on to soil. the world doesn't need any more dead flowers.
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*Fairytale Evolutions, Terminating Digital Mutations, Simulated Sensations, Transcendent Revolutions, Hybrid Generations, Altering Stagnant Amplifications, Shape Shifting Constellations, Sterilizing Implications, Eliciting Blissful Animations, Decoding Kaleidoscopic Flirtations, Fabricating Holographic Dimensions, Reflecting Labyrinth Ramifications, Transgressional Diversifications, Empathetic Extortion, Serene Distortion, Subversive Contortion, Forging Conceptual Inoculations Violating Illusionary Variations, Incarnating Prototype Deviations, Radiating Subtle Speculations, Catalyzing Crystallized Civilizations. -01:09AM*
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
Prelude 3.0
A darkness, the gloaming, Passes through the hill Terminating summer And the remainder of our laughter Now I halt at the ****** of my tracks— Awaiting, anticipating, yearning for the best The best has passed! Or perhaps was never intended Not for now, not this fall, Not ever, at least for me— Should I accept that? Or never lapse under the weight The weight of autumn, Jubilation evanesced Apperception of edging expiry The beginning of absolute rest A failed romance, Deteriorated to the end And leaves you ruminating, “What could have been…"
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
Autumn Gloom
The children would be packed and ready days in advance. At first, we packed for them, but as the years passed, They were experts at rolling clothes for twice the space, Using laundry baskets rather than luggage tripled our carriage. We'd leave early Saturday morning, almost night, Departing from the Ontario weather like a bad odour. Kathleen was away at school. Mags and Andrea were in their teens now. Ten years of March madness was terminating. Herself would sit shotgun with Triptik and thermos. The kids would awaken south of the Ohio, Hungry, grumpy, and eager. She had it all planned out. Crosswords, colouring, wordfinds, books, Gameboys, lace, Sandwiches, juice boxes, treats of all sorts, For another twenty hours on the road. I invariably imagined our Mini in the return lane As we crossed the Bluewater Bridge into Michigan; Trip over, kids exhausted, us, quiet, subdued, Just wanting our own bed. But twenty hours on the I-75 lay ahead, Turn left at Knoxville For Myrtle Beach, sun, tennis, seafood, Separation. I found no peace in our final escape. Conversation with her had halted. A round-trip of dialogue in my head. She'd said, I bought a house. Words wrapped like an egg-salad sandwich. It was our March break.
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
March Break
I rub that stress up off my temple, I'm off the tip Lay back and taking a wonderful trip, with a pen and pad, I’m speaking that "Do you feel this" and my vault stays set off that realness So I hit them for real with the quickness, tying false individuals in stitches Realize the fact but please come precise, because I could be relentless Suspicion, coming up on some recognition that’s why I'm creeping from behind With a towel soaked with ammonia, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine So step in line, a couple of hits, brains dismissed, I change faces like I change places With a gingsu blade, I'll slit your throat just like them Dartmouth ****** cases Invisible traces, but I wasn’t committed cause there was no evidence Minor scent of that formaldehyde, and I can almost sense the obsession What's the answer to the question? Get tested, don't come if you can’t come correct It's that dog eat dog type life, so I don't know what you were expected Nevermore so wreck less, nevertheless I'm a saint in a bulletproof vest, sick Letting it all hang down, straight pound for pound, you need to take a step down 80 caliber rounds, I'm running around through your whole town Terminating them down like Black Ops 2 set on death match with an AN-94 Disposing these clowns and their bodies will be hard to find That’s all coming from an ill-stricken mind, complex by design But uncovered by pride, so let it be known that I’m sneaky with a loaded tech-nine Dark and morbid style with a touch of realism that’s from my circle Blow smoke from that purple, for you none marijuana smokers that’s that herbal Essence, confessing my worldly fix but that’s a true and serious recelection. Never stressing Just detecting fake characters who claim they’re real but just need to learn a real lesson
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Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Mind games
I rub that stress up off my temple, I'm off the tip Lay back and taking a wonderful trip, with a pen and pad, I’m speaking that "Do you feel this" and my vault stays set off that realness So I hit them for real with the quickness, tying false individuals in stitches Realize the fact but please come precise, because I could be relentless Suspicion, coming up on some recognition that’s why I'm creeping from behind With a towel soaked with ammonia, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine So step in line, a couple of hits, brains dismissed, I change faces like I change places With a gingsu blade, I'll slit your throat just like them Dartmouth ****** cases Invisible traces, but I wasn’t committed cause there was no evidence Minor scent of that formaldehyde, and I can almost sense the obsession What's the answer to the question? Get tested, don't come if you can’t come correct It's that dog eat dog type life, so I don't know what you were expected Nevermore so wreck less, nevertheless I'm a saint in a bulletproof vest, sick Letting it all hang down, straight pound for pound, you need to take a step down 80 caliber rounds, I'm running around through your whole town Terminating them down like Black Ops 2 set on death match with an AN-94 Disposing these clowns and their bodies will be hard to find That’s all coming from an ill-stricken mind, complex by design But uncovered by pride, so let it be known that I’m sneaky with a loaded tech-nine Dark and morbid style with a touch of realism that’s from my circle Blow smoke from that purple, for you none marijuana smokers that’s that herbal Essence, confessing my worldly fix but that’s a true and serious recelection. Never stressing Just detecting fake characters who claim they’re real but just need to learn a real lesson
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Their relationship had been torn apart by his growing jealousy certain his childhood sweetheart shared her love with another male once the thoughts were embedded within a brooding hate did begin! Always that chance of a love turning sour when two humans matched trust can be a hard emotion to control if their connection is frail misunderstanding is a dangerous mood where thoughts become crude! From the passions of a close tender embrace to the loathing of that person where instead of wanting to love and protect the wish is only for harm as often those closest are the most feared if loving feelings disappeared! This couple split with misconstrued jealousy the boyfriend assaulted a friend accusing him of sleeping with his girlfriend terminating in a jail sentence ending his long relationship with his soul mate realising the mistake too late! There is only a silk thread between love and hate just one more human trait! The Foureyed Poet.
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Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Jealousy!
Why need a life with hearts broken into two, And mind into four? Why need a life with hatred and enmity? Something to share, Someone to contribute… I cannot get anything better than you-DIARY, Where memories concoct with desire, Where contemplations hold up on career, Encouraging, excluding the heart-broken sorrows… Where you look like a bird without wings, Challenging the unobtrusive miracles, Stimulating the conspicuous sensations, Co-existing with humanness and laid-back lives, And at last terminating a year with something special…
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Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Sonnet: The Specaility Of My Diary
Black shadows prowling, Blood ******* ropes ready to latch on. The monsters of the night growling, Endless tragedy about to dawn. They watch and wait, Until you delve further into the darkness, And meet your inescapable fate. The deeper you go, The more ropes of bitterness attach. Gripping onto you so tightly, they've become the new foe. They're everywhere, Drowning you in their web. No nightmare could compare, To all the horrible things they've said. Scream and shout, But no one will help. Mourn and bleed, From all the pain you've felt. Stuck, helpless, hopeless, Making you slowly deteriorate. Tired, weak, lifeless, Now it's officially too late. The ropes have ****** all happiness, Replacing it with grief. Trapped in eternal darkness, Just another dried out leaf. Suffering in the hellish pit, All alone, so lost. Frozen from the bitter cold As you sit. Will it ever be possible to defrost? Sinister laughter, everywhere, It fills your ears. You know this factor, my dear, They've been winning for years. The breaking point has come, Just can't take this pain. Slowly reaching for the gun, Youre no longer sane. One click ends it all, A bullet buried in the brain. Smiling as you abruptly fall, Terminating the ropes ****** up game. The demons retreat, Ravenous to cause another fatality. They never admit defeat, Life's ropes of evil and reality.
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May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Life's ropes of evil and reality
*Distorted heart - Breaks and shatters a millionth, Agonizing on the torment it had to bear, Withered and terminating till its last, Abdication has left me frail, A void that now resides in the center of my heart, diffuses, Penetrating torturous scars and bruises, Aching from within, Like a broken wing, Or a leaf defoliating, My heart slowly turns pitch black, Ready to face extinction, A wave of despair, Constricting the walls of my veins, A lumpy formation in the middle, Not blood, just loss!*
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Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
Abdication
My brother, I am done with this game, taking lives has turned me cold, feeling gone, with their cold eyes sewn to my soul, I yearn for love, but it eludes me, If I stop, will it find me? or does it obviate me? My brother, I am done with this game, rendering harmless, or terminating with extreme prejudice, just sayings to absolve and exculpate our actions, My brother, I can’t stand this, I cry to her, or to the ghost that I wish was her, I ruined it, and all in the name of God and country.
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Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
For God and Country
she was a former witness of jehovah I ain't much on casanova couldn't find my GPS flew over her cuckoo's nest her perspective compromised my countermeasures plagiarized maybe the moonlight sonata? worldly persona non grata emasculated superpowers rain man never counted flowers just kept running up that hill terminating her goodwill yes it was something that I said another joke over her head obstinacy will duplicate a failure to communicate so many times I tried to love her the gibson to my danny glover some animals just are more equal pray to jehovah for a sequel
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Femke Fatale
I cried in silent Watching you in pain... You struggled too much , You were in great pain.. For a second I thought... Death would end your misery What a crude thought.. Selfish fears.. . of losing or caring? Who was I doubting? But All my fears came true this morning and I watched you taking your last breath in peace.. my visions blurred a moment... as my eyes filled with tears... My heart turned pale and bled lost hope and sank to meet the despair that I stood in. Your laughters and smiles vivid in my thought An ugly nightmare ripped my happiness into one bleak moment.. all of a sudden.. Numbed by the clouds that descended I heard only the sound of the machine Beeping out loud.. in my mind... Terminating your life... how complicated life was.. how ordinary life had suddenly ended just like that... A little bit of me died yesterday as I watched you lifeless, unresponsive... all that I imagined became a reality and I witnessed your life been taken away... As you passed away, and gone..forever so did my spirit and I cried.
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
I cried..
all of my hearts feel injured out of each mouth a separate tedium unaccounted, all unaccounted the ticking of this tongue flat and gross in the stupor of days and- and you are dead in the East pale horseless East freckling falernum soaked feathers for fathers fatherless East, now and farther over the terminating sea you have left me, here and how sick I have been how unimaginably quiet my bald mind can be I touch my own forehead, lest I forget myself I do not even recall, who I am talking about I find myself in the strew of night, ineloquent and helpless how easily, I flicker not even a copy of myself
0
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
pathos
*when i was three i dreamt myself naked on stage before a great audience laughing in the glare of stardust i was horrified no doubt the beginning of a need to cover up thus the birth of a liar my soul and destiny a terminating lotus bud nocturnal pulse a tarnished soul shuddering in a cave what i do a veiled secret am i despicable ? being what i should not be loving what i should not love wanting what i should not want and then i discovered you disguised will you come out and be who you shouldn't be but are take what you shouldn't want but crave and love what you shouldn't love but die without im here frightened and exposed aghast and in love waiting for you*
0
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
*DREAM OF SHAME