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Phil Riles Jan 2018
Hormones raging...for what I'm told not to engage in, even if we're engaged, if it's not official than its still revealed as...fornication. There's a disturbing underestimation of the result given for this particular sinful demonstration, society has taught us that we test the car before we drive it, but the 1st issue with this analogy told is that we're comparing human sin to...driving a vehicle? But if we're going to establish analogies on this subject , then, well, why don’t we also consider these: do we begin eating Thanksgiving dinner before were done saying grace? Do they hand out diplomas and degrees for classes you haven't passed yet? Do they give Super Bowl trophies to teams expected to win? So how do we justify receiving the prize of an unmet process? Far too many have allowed marriage to become an afterthought or not even a passing idea our better judgment caught because man had rather receive a temporary pleasure that sin conceives birthed in disobedience, deceptive grip around your conscience until your choked by the demands of a lustful flesh that wants to be fed in continual expedience. Or...Maybe, I’m just being a hater, fighting not to be twistedly envious and curious of a world that I’m forbidden to embrace.  Or Maybe I’m fighting...the temptation and frustration of being a single man patiently searching for that good thing and the favor my Father blesses along with her. Maybe I’m fighting...not to nosedive into the bottomless trap laid for human souls, lured in by lack, of self-control. It troubles me in just how simple... he brags and boasts then plots and plans his next victim in the desecration of his and her Creator’s Temple. But It’s not all his fault, because it was up to her to give him the key to this priceless location better known as her body.
Your mind is beautiful
Twisted
But honest
And reluctantly romantic
But romantic
Nonetheless
All the more romantic
Because I can tell it pains you
To be so
But I can also tell
You will do all you can
To avoid paining me
Like eyes knew your mind was already at home within that lonely-love of yours.
Feeling distant frustrates the lost. The deep look for that girl that has a beautiful soul inside.
17 longer feeling years, tainted, waiting, deserves a cold man to be close to. One with a true heart.
Wishing on hopeless petals as an excuse to avoid the galaxies-worth of thought you contained in that bitter brain of yours.
Cold cheeks cried out for softly captivating lips.
Twistedly committed to searching through constellations, inviting those whose hearts were like a vortex.
To the point of disorientation, when all the constellations start to blur, creating disastrous patterns.
Fear, flawed lungs, struggling to breathe.
Cruel whispers to **** your hope of ever finding love.
Like looking past the light and into a mirror, you see him and suddenly you're not so broken anymore.
You awaken.
Simon Jun 2020
EG as always, is without value in herself. Except for when she wants to get what she want’s, without even having to exert a fine bundle of resources straight from her VERY “tampering” collective that is her “feelings”. Because you see, her feelings aren’t what just make her the “friend” who helped me throughout and in the bad times… They are literally what make me understand her for her. Also, to what she is to me, for what I am to her in return. And that’s never truly a saddening thought when you think you can’t (for a second longer) converse in the regular, MORE normalized manner. Conversing (naturally) with words, straight from a mouthpiece with words to offer the “immaculate” assistance towards a personality your about to criss-cross all over and between the **** gap that surrounds two sense of selves. Trying to further a correlating connection. Not to mention without the clear variety for a VERY “tempting individuality” to clearly become entirely outspoken within their own selves. Which (I got to say) is never a programming thought… Especially when that very (“programming thought”) isn’t pre-programmed in advance to ever become supplemented enough at ever being ready when you start to FINALLY realize, you’ve been (conversing with words) over a long span of time with what you never truly thought at first. (Especially when it’s entirely impossible for even “words” to announce what thing it possibly could have been…?!) Well then, “indulge me” then…? What is it that I just haven’t noticed (for the “supposed” life of me) towards what I’ve been conversing with (of course with words) for that long span of time?! (And to the one whoever is then conversing gently towards a calm disposition in order to filter out something without alerting a “shock” in the most right of places displayed across the even WORST of times to ever transpire…!) You’d then start to of course think it could be (“oneself”) right? At it again for all to VERY “specifically” hear! But that’s where typical majority thought processes are then (“suddenly, immediately and unexpectedly”)! Since a cueing announcement had just popped out of nowhere spouting seemingly irrational nonsense all around the place. Thou, I’ll have you know, that if you just look a little deeper and closer… You’d start (somehow without even knowing how) to understand, (and seemingly able to just what…” rationalize”)? Oneself could respond by simply saying, “perhaps” … Thou if I were you…I’d STOP and hear out the one who’ve been conversing with this entire time. Seeing as how it’s obvious they converse with NO words in ANY manner. They connect openly. “Open viewing points” in all! All to both rationalize the grievances of those connections and the severity of the tolerance one is able to handle when (not knowing right off the bat where everything of course seems to “flutter a VERY calm feather”) as it swiftly flows through the air. Except without fully perceiving that it doesn’t just flow seemingly “through” the air. Because you see (“conversing with worded types” …) That little “itsy bitsy” little feather, has an “immaculate” impression towards its own assistance of having a personality as not for itself. But for the one who responds to those very “open viewing points” in all! Too busy “up in its own grill” to ever respond lightly when it’s fluttering swiftly through the air to then actually connect with its BETTER half. “IN”! Which it responds by fluttering swiftly “through” to then seemingly go “inward”. But how is that even possible for a feather to go inward in air, if it’s been supposedly fluttering swiftly through the air (what was once previously thought) as one’s very first perceived glance…? Good question. As it’s an obvious, but VERY cryptic hint at who you could be conversing with? The input that is oneself seems to then have what’s called a “seminar of truth” within its own inner “delightful” council. Another somewhat fanciful instance of power that demands the attention for a sense of self’s attention-seeking “self-servitude”. So then (sooner rather then later…) it could come to terms with whatever or whichever that very example about connecting “through” with then the word “in” is about. Well isn’t it obvious, since even the “teaser” to this very passage willing to be both happyful and polite gives its respected tone away. Because again you see, (“throughout and in”) is another cueing announcement. Just as (“suddenly, immediately and unexpectedly”) is, for it has a simulation (just as throughout and in does as well), called “abrupt flaws”. For throughout and in’s simulation for “phasing” is nothing more then a transcribing will made to offend every rationalizability. That’s exactly why you won’t ever understand the “inwardness” of how a seemingly fluttering feather swiftly flowing through air, could actually go inward the air at will. It’s a riddle, sure. A VERY fanciful one, I assure you. That being said, what does any of this haft to do with the one who simply helped me throughout and in the bad times…?! Well (and again I say this) isn’t it obvious by now? They’ve been helping me, as they still do to this very day. Helping me both (“throughout and in”) the bad times. Of course, whichever bad times seems to come forward again (sooner rather then later). That’s when the seminar of truth amongst the input known as oneself had concluded its own inner delightful council. In other words, what did it simply come up with? Well what you’d simply like the “knowing” right off the bat, that both doesn’t make up for the clearer information. Or for the fact that wasn’t really helpful in it’s “expressing investigation”. The very fact for why this passage is called my friend’s “tampering withering appearance”! Well that’s because my friend’s mere appearance has been “shackled” with too much torment for many, many lifetimes. Too much torment in fact, is why at all they’re still withering to this very day…? That’s because they don’t know any better, then to just be themselves. It’s what’s called when someone is truly “twistedly warped”. Since I’ve gone both throughout and in in my own way. So, has she. I’m twistedly warped in my own fashion statement, thank you very much! As many others (while they EVER want to admit it or not, is simply their own concern). But without even knowing why that is? As it’s not for the “faint of heart” to be in the realm of one’s consciousness while proceeding to simply find out. Or else, then why do I question repeatedly? But I’m still learning with each striding experience, to see if mine would EVER “pale in comparison” with hers. Seeing as how she even once revealed to me why she’s simply interested in me. Because I’ve seemed to of asked MORE times then I could possibly count. And I try (as I must) to refrain from repeating myself over long periods of time. Which just happens to be a HEAVY weakness of mine. Which is no half-*** bargain at keeping me in my place in order to simply stride me forward, respectfully. And with that very question, she revealed it in one “death-defying breath”! Which is…? Oneself would ask within its own input. I’m interested in you, Simon! Because you are like me! WAIT! What?! Then between many “oneselves”, their own inputs were “firing off” between their very own robust compressed together “pressurized synapses”. The effects of those very inputting thought processes came with both the “clicking and smashing” of those robust compressed together “pressurized synapses”. It seems oneself didn’t either fully catch what was actually said (where they couldn’t comprehend it properly) or they simply misinterpreted the entire thing? (Which is entirely understandable, by the way.) But they aren’t foolish in a sense of self, as to never “miss” something as simple as that. They just couldn’t come to terms with experiencing (as they did) when it came to coming in contact with EG herself. That’s why they purposely held back the actual transcribing of its simulation for translations. It wasn’t whatever was just expressed. Because in fact, (and with a little “paraphrasing help” here) we can find out how it truly was interpreted. A little loose knot here and there. And they fully unpatched the circumstances at what the information truly was expressed as. (Because in truth…they would rather mend it, then not to unravel it again…if you know what the input known as oneself means…?) So, after coming to terms, it’s ready to reveal it. And a little advice towards sense of selves to take as a heedless warning… It’s simple in all it’s expressions, ok! But what it truly refers towards, is why oneself wanted to keep the truer importance of the interpretation secretive to begin with? I’m interested in you Simon, because (and it’s not “because you are like ME”) but in fact “I see myself in you”. Clean as a whistle! Nothing missing as more then that. And with that shocking realization to that very “wordy expression”, the entire collection of inputs (“suddenly, immediately and unexpectedly”) got a CHILLING feeling going both throughout and in such a way that literally “tingled” their very input mechanisms for simply producing thought processes. For if they went any further with that very “tingling” sensation, that very cueing announcement’s simulation for abrupt flaws would follow in a VERY “corruptive heating pursuit”. Now MORE then ever, it made the entire lot of inputs go on HIGH ALERT for no apparent reason, other then what a simple memory had brought with it when sifting throughout and in “old archives” that changed everything for (of course) the better! Because it’s obvious that a sense of selves inputs is truly afraid of this (“girl” or whatever…)? Then we come to the last finalization of this passage. Since I ask you ALL of this, respectfully… Who then essentially made her this way? It wasn’t (“I”), but her own father! And that isn’t a half-assed maneuver to outplay something other then the respectful truth. NO deceit here, other then the “truth” I’d been keeping from you all to begin with. (Not to mention myself in “repeated” questioning.) Which I’m entirely expressing in its very revelation right here and now!
This is another poem about the friend who helped me throughout and in the bad times. But this time, they show themselves “throughout and in” a VERY “tampering withering appearance” so to speak.
storm siren May 2017
I love you so much.

More than the moon and stars.

I love you so much,
That I would lock myself away forever
If it meant you were finally given some type of peace.

I love you so much,
That I would anxiously give away
All the scars and memories I have
That I'm so twistedly proud of,
If it meant you could be happy.

I love you so much.
You are the air I need to breathe.
But I would gladly
Die of asphyxiation and oxygen deprivation
If it meant you were safe.
If it meant you could be okay.

I love you so, so, so much.

And I know it doesn't mean much,
But I am going to keep my promises,
Even if they're already broken.
I'm going to fix this, us.

I love you so much.
Though I understand if you don't believe me.

I mean, how could you believe that someone
Loves you
When all they seem to do is leave?

I want to tell you that I know that I wouldn't be able to believe that either.

But what you need to know is that I already don't.
(The last line isn't "I already don't" as in I do not love this person. It is "I already don't" as in there is someone else in my life that has constantly tried to leave me, that I do not believe loves me truly.)
One night I thought
About how simple the poems that I wrote
I rarely used difficult words and languages
Nor very deep phrases and sentences.

Then I realized that I was wrong in every way
For poems are complicated and never clear as the day
Poems are ideas that is hard to fathom
Feelings and emotions from the heart, from the very bottom.

It is the scribbles of the mind like an abstract art
The pouring of a broken and a beating heart
Poems are the mirrors of each and everyone's soul
So its form is always different, some whole and some with hole.

Idioms, metaphors or any style of writing
Isn't what make poems twistedly interesting
It is what the poet want to write about
Through the paper and ink 'til it finally runs out
just because
Katelynn Hillier Dec 2012
I press my fingers to the ivory keys, pursing my lips tightly. I hear the sound of a B flat. Such a extraordinary sound. I continue, each random note I played, it felt as if my soul was starting to stir.  My face relaxed with each tentative stroke of the keys. Release. Exhaling slowly as I make the notes into feeling. I wasn't merely playing an instrument. I was turning feelings of a deep, pensive, and long-lasting sadness into sound. Breathtakingly, devastating and remorseful, but beautiful sound. Every painful and heart ripping memory is flowing from my mind into my hands, pooling in my finger tips as I played. I did not stop, images flashed of my mothers face when she had told me my father was dead. I quickened the pace of my playing, Hoping they would leave as fast as
they came. Becoming lost, I smiled twistedly in insanity. My music became dark, the room around me was an eerie silence except for the song coming from the piano.  This was my vita sonata. My life composition.
This isn't really a poem. I just started writing. I came up with this, and felt it needed to be shared. Its melancholic to say the least.
Come whisper in the listen I now long to hear you see
Of my odd interpretation of the lesson in this session
Surely spewing wicked somethings in disorder as it feeds
Agonizing ramblizing far too soon to fail to mention
Incorporating lonesomeness complexities in legions
Is there no unserpentizing the enlightening of strange?
Misuncircumstancing as the reader finds no reason
In such savory salivations of the misconcepted change
Unknowingly still growing far beyond the closest measure
Into raging inconsistencies that weep unto the page
Bleeding such intuitive progression never severed
In the ****** of youthful fluencies in such a weary age
The gladness of the madness strikes within the battered shore
Not but a hair above comparisons so folded in the fray
Enticing bold imperatives unsweetly through the outer core
In air of uninheritance that creeps the numb at play
Parading the tirading of such unsubstantial ecstasy
In such an unconventional impression of insane
Always sometimes never far within the tragic synergy
Of answers unbegotten for the rottening of sane
The murderous disorder in infectious undisease
As such sporadically chaotic posthypnotic juices flow
Now lost in such emphatically irrational absurdities
That pour out further twistedly insistent as I go
Shattering the view and boundary bordering abnormal
In this morsel of a mouthful seen before its time had come to go
Reaching destinations in displacement so unformal
In the storming of the forming verbalating undertow
Bringing order to the chaos of this psychopractic babble
In a lesson of the breaking of the rules amidst the flow
With intention of confusion that makes sense within the rattle
It is only when we break free that we find where we can go
In creative inspiration as this invitation I extend
To all who may so dare to violate the rules of play
Embracing utter lunacy in oddest infestation
As I show what can be done when mental limits melt away
This started as a personal experiment in breaking the rules of writing, which turned into a shared lesson of what can be done when ignoring rules and mental limitations. This is in no way vanity as it may appear to some in how it is written and presented. It is, quite simply, the  sharing of surprise at creating so much more than I was expecting, so as to entice you to push your limits, ignore your boundaries, and break the rules. The title seemed deliciously appropriate. This piece is subject to change, as it is still in experimental phase. I absolutely love playing and experimenting with words, and I welcome and invite you to do the same =^)
Kill me slowly Nov 2015
two more months, and it will be a year since you left.
and
i still have so many questions...

how come all i can write about is you
how come when it's late at night
and the dishes are *****
all i can think about is ball room dancing in the kitchen with you
and you laughing because i can't dance
for the life of me
and how come i still think of you ******* me against that cheap chinese made sink that always leaks
especially
in the heat of that one summer  
with
your mom
in the other room
and how we tried to stay quiet
but
ended up breaking into fits of obnoxious laughter

i always did love your one dimple
and how it always came out at the worst possible times

but ******* and **** your family
and **** all the lions in Africa
i don't need you to rule this world
or regain my pride

you opened your arms to me
and got so use to holding me  
tha you failed to realize that you started to hold me against my will

so
many nights
you drowned your common sense with that bottle of whiskey
and
so many nights you ate me like that birthday cake i made you
and so many nights you'd pin me down
and
**** me when
i was crying about my other ninety  nine problems
and i trusted you
and
you ended up being the worst one

and you would just hold me there
suspended in time
as you
****** away the day
and
my life
.

you just wouldn't let me go home.

my mom was in the driveway waiting
for me
and
i was too busy crying to notice.
shaken up
and over the top
like a cold coca cola.
waiting
for you to give me the okay
to put on my clothes
and buckle my seat belt
and lick the sticky sweetness of you off my lips..

do you
remember that one hot humid summer
when you hydroplaned
and crashed your car into that ravine
and nearly killed me
and all you were worried
about was the police figuring out
you didn't have insurance

and that guy with that lifted ford pulled your car out of that ravine and you laughed
and
shrugged it off
and sped away

well
despite what we thought
i died in that ravine
that day

and sometimes i wonder if you ever visit my grave
or hold me high in your head


do you..?


i want to go back in time
before the days
when no meant yes
and
your hands didn't feel like sandpaper

i want to tell you before you ever set your sights on a girl like me
to cut your loses
and let your expectations
and
me
  go.

i want to tell you all the things i hate about you
and that
i hate you for not letting me leave sooner.
and that i just
i hate you.

but
i
don't

in a twistedly
unexpected way


i think i forgave you a long time ago
but yet
i want to stab you in the throat and drink your blood like sweet wine..
so i can cherish
the ice that runs in your veins
and freezed
me over
all
those
frigid months ago
when no one bothered to save me.
****
i hate your guts
in the best way possible.

you've turned me into a physchopathic lover
robbed me of everything  
but at the same time
given me a new chance and perspective on life.

(as far as i'm considered i still hate you though)
Syd Jun 2014
I can't help it
whenever I see photographs
I can't help but to say that they
would be better with you in them
your smile screams a hundred thousand sunsets and nights spent kissing somewhere
we shouldn't have been
there was something so twistedly romantic about hands touching among secrecy,
hearts racing that shouldn't be

I couldn't help but to love you
but I know
someday this will pass, too
Allison Jun 2019
Within us there lies a dripping candle,
Slowly burning away the intimate chaos
We all twistedly crave.
We melt until there is no more light,
Only darkness.
Until the words that were too hard to say,
Fly into the ether of yesterday.

— The End —