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"umbras" poems
saying **** off* seems so much more easier when you're petting cats.... they just say it for you... there he is, Quarus, the operatic singer nearing sunset, 200 variations of a mulling of meow, i end up calling him Orbison Rufus, the ginger Roy of Peckham - he basically meows lazily like Roy singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras or umbrellas - counting the shadows' version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo ah-woo nagging the reflex... gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with the herding in while the dog carved a feel for religion in the translation of the Vatican from coliseum into football requirements... the movies were great in the 1950s, just after the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill... the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo in a cave to knock-on-wood... 200 variations of the knock and 12 whiskey shots downed while playing poker... 12 cowboys 1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino... i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving out smoke signals... Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed... he's Roy Orbison with the meow, pretty much lazy... looks like a murmur when he tries singing, pretty woman, trolling down the street, Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy, as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled white collars... Roy knew before Elvis... the trick came with sunglasses, and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing for subsequent mouthing it off... no amount of cheese in French could ever charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch laughing cows named Novices.... quick-melts and some said: dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot; the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic of the thumb through to pinky... i don't know how they taught counting with their complex ideograms, they never taught arithmetic give their encoding... they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
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Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Apache Yawn Echo Imitation
saying **** off* seems so much more easier when you're petting cats.... they just say it for you... there he is, Quarus, the operatic singer nearing sunset, 200 variations of a mulling of meow, i end up calling him Orbison Rufus, the ginger Roy of Peckham - he basically meows lazily like Roy singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras or umbrellas - counting the shadows' version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo ah-woo nagging the reflex... gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with the herding in while the dog carved a feel for religion in the translation of the Vatican from coliseum into football requirements... the movies were great in the 1950s, just after the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill... the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo in a cave to knock-on-wood... 200 variations of the knock and 12 whiskey shots downed while playing poker... 12 cowboys 1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino... i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving out smoke signals... Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed... he's Roy Orbison with the meow, pretty much lazy... looks like a murmur when he tries singing, pretty woman, trolling down the street, Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy, as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled white collars... Roy knew before Elvis... the trick came with sunglasses, and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing for subsequent mouthing it off... no amount of cheese in French could ever charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch laughing cows named Novices.... quick-melts and some said: dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot; the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic of the thumb through to pinky... i don't know how they taught counting with their complex ideograms, they never taught arithmetic give their encoding... they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
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Pelo alvo deserto vão, me atrevo Com passos vazios e rigidez emudecida Caminho à livre esperança aquecida Sem umbras derradeiras de vil enlevo Nestas escassas palavras que descrevo Aflijo, na natureza selvaticamente esvaída, O brado ofego da moribunda esquecida Cruzando-me os dentes o férrico sangue e doloroso arquejo Ante os olhos que se chegam em céu vasto, O silêncio zune, norteia-me, arrasto E completo minhas vistas com negrumes vários Deserto! Deserto! Das sombras, sóis filho nefasto, Por eternidades, quais d'aurora me afasto A vós enterneço meu desgarro solitário
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Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
Paisagens de Inverno - Deserto
Oh Lordy need a forty Going in the city on this sortie Making menace while speaking witty We're dead inside but make merry corpses dancing in the darkness between streetlights. The lights flicker fail and we gain new territory. Wolves in the night we cast long shadows stretching distortions of our inner demons. They claw and scrape over concrete to rake across dismayed faces. The sun rises too soon a cleansing fire that burns away the umbras but not our memories. We know the time after dusk and revel in it.
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Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
Night Raids
You’ve been keeping secrets from me. Leaving when light breaks. Carousel around in my brightest moments but gone when darkness takes. Where do you go as if I’m not good enough for you to stay. Maybe you’re still here, resting until it’s time to play. You’ve been avoiding me when im accompanied by mental doom. Maybe you’re still here embracing me when I’m in the umbras gloom. You dance with me like you won’t leave when things get dark. Stay away from me your presence has left its mark.
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Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 11:51 PM UTC
When my shadow walked away