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"trival" poems
lucid in America,      lazy, loose, ladies of marble, hearts of stone, the clouds are gathering,      the trees sparse,      coarse winds cool, collide, realign the telephone lines, smoke exits the nostrils in good time,      three-piece suits,      hard handshakes,      heydays and hollidays both end in headaches, lucid, loose, tight as a feather,      riding the Times and drinking  empty cups,      full and flavored, gentle, gentle,      the melody is quaint,      but the melody will play, sing easy, kissing the graves, the skeletons are lonely, ask them to stay, brief and brittle, the remnants of the middle, quake and make me realize the end has and always will be nigh,     egotripping brothers and daughters at pearly gates,     walking crates half in dismay, half soaked in rays, interlaced, tracing barefoot on interstates, humming with the meadowlarks, humming at the dark, sometimes we're art, mostly we're stark,       dancing and dying at once,       trival yet trying, the beauty we're still buying,       lucid, free, and easy, knowingly drifting the pains, the plains       of America.
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Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 8:21 AM UTC
lucid in America
Músicos, rápsodas, prosistas, poetas, poetas, poetas, pintores, caricaturistas, eruditos, nimios estetas; románticos o clasicistas, y decadentes, -si os parece- pero, eso sí, locos y artistas los Panidas éramos trece! Melenudos de líneas netas, líricos de aires anarquistas, hieráticos anacoretas, dandys, troveros, ensayistas, en fin, sabios o analfabetas, y muy pedantes, -si os parece- explotado res de agrias vetas los Panidas éramos trece! De atormentados macabristas figuras lívidas y quietas, rollizas caras de hacendistas, trágicos rostros de profetas...; y satíricos y humoristas, o muy ingenuos, -si os parece- en el café de los Mokistas los Panidas éramos trece! Sutiles frases y discretas, y paradojas exotistas, sentencias, sólidas, escuetas, y jeroglíficos sofistas; y las mordaces cuchufletas envenenadas, -si os parece- que en el Concilio de Agoretas los Panidas éramos trece! Y orquestaciones wagneristas, -trompas y tubas y trompetas-, 1 o  serenatas mozartistas y sinfonías y retretas de los maestros exorcistas, beethovenianos, -si os parece-, que en el Salón (bombos o arpistas) los Panidas éramos trece! Y los de pluma o de paletas, altos poetas o coplistas, los violinistas y cornetas, en veladas aquelarristas -sesiones íntimas, secretas!- y en bodegones -si os parece- en esas citas indiscretas los Panidas éramos trece! Fumívoros y cafeístas y bebedores musagetas! Grandilocuentes, camorristas, Crispines de elásticas tretas; inconsolables, optimistas, o indiferentes, -si os parece- en nuestros Sábbats liturgistas los Panidas éramos trece! Ilustres críticos -ascetas serios, solemnes, metodistas, tribu de vacuos logotetas!: 2 andad al diablo! -si os parece-: nosotros, -Bárbaros sanchistas!-, los Panidas éramos trece!
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1k
Balada trival de los 13 panidas
Músicos, rápsodas, prosistas, poetas, poetas, poetas, pintores, caricaturistas, eruditos, nimios estetas; románticos o clasicistas, y decadentes, -si os parece- pero, eso sí, locos y artistas los Panidas éramos trece! Melenudos de líneas netas, líricos de aires anarquistas, hieráticos anacoretas, dandys, troveros, ensayistas, en fin, sabios o analfabetas, y muy pedantes, -si os parece- explotado res de agrias vetas los Panidas éramos trece! De atormentados macabristas figuras lívidas y quietas, rollizas caras de hacendistas, trágicos rostros de profetas...; y satíricos y humoristas, o muy ingenuos, -si os parece- en el café de los Mokistas los Panidas éramos trece! Sutiles frases y discretas, y paradojas exotistas, sentencias, sólidas, escuetas, y jeroglíficos sofistas; y las mordaces cuchufletas envenenadas, -si os parece- que en el Concilio de Agoretas los Panidas éramos trece! Y orquestaciones wagneristas, -trompas y tubas y trompetas-, 1 o  serenatas mozartistas y sinfonías y retretas de los maestros exorcistas, beethovenianos, -si os parece-, que en el Salón (bombos o arpistas) los Panidas éramos trece! Y los de pluma o de paletas, altos poetas o coplistas, los violinistas y cornetas, en veladas aquelarristas -sesiones íntimas, secretas!- y en bodegones -si os parece- en esas citas indiscretas los Panidas éramos trece! Fumívoros y cafeístas y bebedores musagetas! Grandilocuentes, camorristas, Crispines de elásticas tretas; inconsolables, optimistas, o indiferentes, -si os parece- en nuestros Sábbats liturgistas los Panidas éramos trece! Ilustres críticos -ascetas serios, solemnes, metodistas, tribu de vacuos logotetas!: 2 andad al diablo! -si os parece-: nosotros, -Bárbaros sanchistas!-, los Panidas éramos trece!
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62
I didn't lie to you, When I said I'm busy, Maybe in a way only I could understand, I was actually busy converting oxygen to carbondioxide in my Lungs, I was busy trying to please my creator and wondering if heaven is real, I was busy wondering, why religion is the major cause of pain today, I was busy thinking about how I could meet the Aristotle's within my peers, I was busy planning how to esacpe the current mess I found myself trapped in, I was busy putting off negativity and others trival opinions of me, Sometimes this is my busy and I'm unapologetic about it.
0
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
I'm seriously Busy
Life is more   Than who you are      and         The trival lives            That people lead               You are way more          Than what they say               Don't be scared                  Of who              You should be          Remember,     No one said It would be easy
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Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
Weight Upon Your Shoulders
Every time someone asks me, "do you still like him?", I can't help but realize just how trival the word "like" is. What I feel for him cannot be encompassed in those four alphabets. I cannot call it "love" either, cause it feels much deeper, much sacred than any other love I have ever felt before. All I can say is that I care for him, and perhaps I always will even if we were not in each other's lives.
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Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
"like"
Staring  out the widow, waiting for your arrival, other than you babe, everything else is a trival. Getting cold in this emptiness, the clock constantly ticking, words can't even come close to express, oh how your absence is engulfing.. ~A.d | 18 Feb 2015
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Waiting
My friends don't like me. I know I heard. Guess they ain't my friends After all But that's okay No matter how it hurts I understand. Maybe it's cuz I *** Cigarettes too much Maybe cuz I have too much Ache on my face. Like a never ending game Of connect the dots. Maybe it's cuz I try to be happy And uplifting Because I don't want others Feeling as low as I do. I'm not too surprised It's been this way my whole life I've been the scrape goat For even my own family I have issues may of them Will never know Because I would never Burden anyone With the knowledge That I hold inside Still it hurts. And still If they ask it of me I will listen to their trival problems Even though if they knew They'd say I had it worse. They complain about their parents While I knew what my father's **** looked like By four. While I knew what it looked like To see your mother get thrown at the wall. While I know my mom blames me For everything. I still listen. For why should my problems be of anymore value then theirs? They complain about their siblings When I'm sure mine Inherited our fathers sick mind? But just can't prove it yet Or maybe I can But am to afraid to put the math Together in fear Of what the truth is. I say I don't care and ignore The brokenness that is inside My mind. Because I believe I am strong When in fact I am weak. Yet I heard them say They don't like me. Complaining about me Why is my instinct telling me To listen and to agree? To these foul words they say bout me? They are mearly children Talking gossip Yet my 8 year old sis Seems to agree... There will be no uprising In this story. No lesson learned Only me Still realizing How much people don't care. Only the same pattern Of disappointment. And failure to connect to someone. They don't like me And who can blame them? No one ever has
0
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 4:04 AM UTC
They don't like me
My friends don't like me. I know I heard. Guess they ain't my friends After all But that's okay No matter how it hurts I understand. Maybe it's cuz I *** Cigarettes too much Maybe cuz I have too much Ache on my face. Like a never ending game Of connect the dots. Maybe it's cuz I try to be happy And uplifting Because I don't want others Feeling as low as I do. I'm not too surprised It's been this way my whole life I've been the scrape goat For even my own family I have issues may of them Will never know Because I would never Burden anyone With the knowledge That I hold inside Still it hurts. And still If they ask it of me I will listen to their trival problems Even though if they knew They'd say I had it worse. They complain about their parents While I knew what my father's **** looked like By four. While I knew what it looked like To see your mother get thrown at the wall. While I know my mom blames me For everything. I still listen. For why should my problems be of anymore value then theirs? They complain about their siblings When I'm sure mine Inherited our fathers sick mind? But just can't prove it yet Or maybe I can But am to afraid to put the math Together in fear Of what the truth is. I say I don't care and ignore The brokenness that is inside My mind. Because I believe I am strong When in fact I am weak. Yet I heard them say They don't like me. Complaining about me Why is my instinct telling me To listen and to agree? To these foul words they say bout me? They are mearly children Talking gossip Yet my 8 year old sis Seems to agree... There will be no uprising In this story. No lesson learned Only me Still realizing How much people don't care. Only the same pattern Of disappointment. And failure to connect to someone. They don't like me And who can blame them? No one ever has
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78
The two most romantic words in the entire world: "Hello I'm" Because they have the courage to come up say I might want the rest of my life to be with you Because they have the will to believe that a future will be right now Because they want the hope of an eternal forever wrapped in instant greeting that seems so trival it's an infinite moment Because they want to remember that first step of falling love was simply coming up to the person they are later meant to love and saying "Hello I'm"
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
Some Romantic Idea