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"unalike" poems
black, white, brown red, blonde, brunette blue, amber, emerald everyone so different no one the same short, tall, thin, fat every size, shape divergent, unique Spanish, French, Japanese Latino, Asian, Vietnamese north, south, east, west England, Morocco, Paraguay child, adolescent, adult heart, lung, eyes, brain soul, spirit, mind fear, love, pain, strength unalike......identical
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
World
I wish to peer at Paris, under-dressed and ***** in all of its neoclassical splendor. For that, there are things I would give up. I wish to see a prehistoric forest, verdant, overgrown and jumbled. Before evergreen mysteries I would be ever humbled. For that, there are things I would give up. I wish to see Rhodian gardens and from them, smell the flowering fig and taste succulent honey suckle. I wish to glimpse zaftig temptresses dancing twenty thick amidst courtyards of ancient Persian palaces. For that, there are things I would give up. I wish to be blessed into an inenarrable life on an unalike mysterious planet. I wish for an Atlas resembling and proportionate soul. For that, there are things I would give up. I've demanded an even temperament from my unruly emotions. I've settled for continuous disbelief at the loquacious ignobleness of humanity. For change, there are things I would give up. I've sequestered my innocent dreams and bloomed monetary means. I've avoided death narrowly, my fingers gripping, fear will always transfix, while barreling down 36'. I've inhaled profits and installed transformation. For change, there are things I would give up. I've burned my midnight oil, taken offensive slander, and burned bridges with gratuitous candor. I've witnessed coal falsify a beautiful gloaming sky. I've had gasoline dreams filled and fuming with intensity, all drowning under an ocean of oil. I've envisioned bleached beaches to hide stained soil. These are moments I would give up. There are things I've realized outside my reality, outside my internal soliloquy and physical tactility. I've come to understand my words are nothing more than symbols on a closed door.
0
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 11:54 PM UTC
For That There Are.
I wish to peer at Paris, under-dressed and ***** in all of its neoclassical splendor. For that, there are things I would give up. I wish to see a prehistoric forest, verdant, overgrown and jumbled. Before evergreen mysteries I would be ever humbled. For that, there are things I would give up. I wish to see Rhodian gardens and from them, smell the flowering fig and taste succulent honey suckle. I wish to glimpse zaftig temptresses dancing twenty thick amidst courtyards of ancient Persian palaces. For that, there are things I would give up. I wish to be blessed into an inenarrable life on an unalike mysterious planet. I wish for an Atlas resembling and proportionate soul. For that, there are things I would give up. I've demanded an even temperament from my unruly emotions. I've settled for continuous disbelief at the loquacious ignobleness of humanity. For change, there are things I would give up. I've sequestered my innocent dreams and bloomed monetary means. I've avoided death narrowly, my fingers gripping, fear will always transfix, while barreling down 36'. I've inhaled profits and installed transformation. For change, there are things I would give up. I've burned my midnight oil, taken offensive slander, and burned bridges with gratuitous candor. I've witnessed coal falsify a beautiful gloaming sky. I've had gasoline dreams filled and fuming with intensity, all drowning under an ocean of oil. I've envisioned bleached beaches to hide stained soil. These are moments I would give up. There are things I've realized outside my reality, outside my internal soliloquy and physical tactility. I've come to understand my words are nothing more than symbols on a closed door.
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25
Earthbound, and yet I now fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ... so high that no sound echoing by below where the mountains are lifting the sky can be heard. Like a bird, but not meek, like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey, I will shriek, not a word, but a screech, and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay— the sheep, the earthbound. *** Tashunka Witko of the Lakota Sioux, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse. Published by American Indian Pride and Boston Poetry Magazine "We Came Together" was written as song lyrics for New Zealand composer David Hamilton. We Came Together by Michael R. Burch We came together – people of two lands so unalike, at first, we hardly knew how to be friends. We went to war, and drew lines in the sand. And yet the sky was blue for everyone, and big enough to share. We came together, and our friendships grew. We had to learn to share the selfsame air, to find the path to harmony, to find some common ground and let peace bloom. We came together and we gave hope room to blossom in our hearts. We learned to be together in our common destiny. We come together – people of many lands so unalike, at first, and now we know how to be friends. Keywords/Tags: song, song lyrics, music, composer, diversity, understanding, tolerance, common ground, multiracial, friends, friendship We Come Together, Holding Hands (I) by Michael R. Burch We come together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it’s what the day demands. We come together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We come together, seeking peace; it’s what the day decrees. The time is right. The time is now. We come together, knowing how the world depends on us to know the only time to love is now. We come together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it’s what the day demands. We come together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We come together, seeking peace; it’s what the day decrees. Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch We Come Together, Holding Hands (II) by Michael R. Burch We come together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it's what the day demands. We come together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We come together, seeking peace; it's what the day decrees. Earthbound, and yet we fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ... so high that all our songs that echo where mountains stand lifting the sky… can be heard. The time is right. The time is now. We come together, knowing how the world depends on us to know the only time to love is now. Earthbound, and yet we fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ... so high that all our songs that echo where mountains stand lifting the sky… can be heard. We sing together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it's what the day demands. We sing together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We sing together, seeking peace; it's what the day decrees. Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch i wrote a giddy little song by michael r. burch i wrote a giddy little song, which u can dance to, all night long; i wrote a giddy little poem, it’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam; i wrote a giddy little line, it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion; I wrote a song and took the trouble, it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble; i wrote this giddy bit of fluff, now dance to it, get off ur duff! Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
0
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 1:06 AM UTC
Earthbound, the Vision of Crazy Horse
Earthbound, and yet I now fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ... so high that no sound echoing by below where the mountains are lifting the sky can be heard. Like a bird, but not meek, like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey, I will shriek, not a word, but a screech, and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay— the sheep, the earthbound. *** Tashunka Witko of the Lakota Sioux, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse. Published by American Indian Pride and Boston Poetry Magazine "We Came Together" was written as song lyrics for New Zealand composer David Hamilton. We Came Together by Michael R. Burch We came together – people of two lands so unalike, at first, we hardly knew how to be friends. We went to war, and drew lines in the sand. And yet the sky was blue for everyone, and big enough to share. We came together, and our friendships grew. We had to learn to share the selfsame air, to find the path to harmony, to find some common ground and let peace bloom. We came together and we gave hope room to blossom in our hearts. We learned to be together in our common destiny. We come together – people of many lands so unalike, at first, and now we know how to be friends. Keywords/Tags: song, song lyrics, music, composer, diversity, understanding, tolerance, common ground, multiracial, friends, friendship We Come Together, Holding Hands (I) by Michael R. Burch We come together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it’s what the day demands. We come together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We come together, seeking peace; it’s what the day decrees. The time is right. The time is now. We come together, knowing how the world depends on us to know the only time to love is now. We come together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it’s what the day demands. We come together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We come together, seeking peace; it’s what the day decrees. Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch We Come Together, Holding Hands (II) by Michael R. Burch We come together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it's what the day demands. We come together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We come together, seeking peace; it's what the day decrees. Earthbound, and yet we fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ... so high that all our songs that echo where mountains stand lifting the sky… can be heard. The time is right. The time is now. We come together, knowing how the world depends on us to know the only time to love is now. Earthbound, and yet we fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ... so high that all our songs that echo where mountains stand lifting the sky… can be heard. We sing together, holding hands, the children of so many lands; it's what the day demands. We sing together, seeking peace, intent of love, our hearts at ease. We sing together, seeking peace; it's what the day decrees. Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch i wrote a giddy little song by michael r. burch i wrote a giddy little song, which u can dance to, all night long; i wrote a giddy little poem, it’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam; i wrote a giddy little line, it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion; I wrote a song and took the trouble, it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble; i wrote this giddy bit of fluff, now dance to it, get off ur duff! Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
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111
How long, how lost, how lonely is the day? The sun lies recumbent, as I do: languishing in cold storage, perfectly preserved in its hollow corner of sky. I'm learning that we're not unalike. We burn, with equal intensity and others, love best to gaze at us, from the furthest, faraway plains. I seem, to bring naught, but discomfort. Wrapped in pain like the fading aurora bloom, of day, I'm a solar-powered picana so, please... avert your eyes.
0
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 7:53 PM UTC
Ultraviolet Blue
I just don't understand you. Your values are just so different. I was brought up so unalike from you, It's like you just don't care. I had a good upbrining, My parents taught me right from wrong. They taught me to try my hardest at everything And here you are not trying at all. My parents brought me up, The way all kids should. The same way that they were, With a caring personality and love. Do your parents have values? Is that why we are so different. You don't show elders any respect, That's just one other thing that divides us. I guess people with values so extremely opposite Will argue for all of time.
0
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
My Values
*the pleasured thrills of a une liaison dangereuse the mystery du triangle hypoténuse two open, unended lines attached to make a so interesting right (wrong) angle, mais sans l'hypoténuse leur est pas de connectivité indeed the hypotenuse hypothetical is crack for my brain imagination steel furnace fired, molten are my fingers as they trace the line you left for me on your body to adore to cherish to lick to follow an arrow pointing where? to the heavenly pleasures that earth reside in our differences substantial which intrigue rather than divide opposites attract is true and not, we could be we could not be more unalike that so excites for dreams only I can uncover in the rounded shape  of thine wide eyes a horrific inserts she is only teasing me but the need to dance on the brink the fulfillment that origins in a need perpetual is the one that satisfies because it cannot be fully satisfied if you know this need, then you are mine bonded beyond is at where the hypotenuse connect our lines,* "we'd be beyond human,  beyond poem, beyond horizon, beyond stars and black holes and daisy-chains and metaphors with  nothing to say to say to an end, because it goes on, my dear,   -- I'll see you at the brink...dance with me there"
0
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
at and beyond the brink
San Francisco holds spirits Of those unalike Luscious shades of grey, sparkled stone. Mighty bridges greet, A plethora of wonders sweet The smell of hot dogs, crab, Italian meats Countries epitomized on few streets Seven miles of freedom of speech. Creed of liberation To be ourselves, walk with personal strides A passion, a determination In the shadowy depths of a cold sea Lurk mystery. Pigeons coo, expounding over history A pleasure inwardly Lets go to San Francisco- there lies human victory.
0
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
San Francisco Streets
The old me. Used to walk in the other side of the road. I woke up on the right side of the bed. I was much different from the others, and I didn't know why. The old me. Wondered and pondered, thought and thought over and over to why I was like this, to why I was different from the others. The old me. Gave up so easily, a battle that can be effortlessly won, by just a simple lift of a finger. I fell, into the cold hard ground. I was down, and I didn't want to stand up again. But I realized, that it was okay to be so unalike. Now, whenever I'm feeling down, I pat myself on the back, breathe in and out, and I finally get up. Because this is t h e   n e w m e
0
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
The New Me
Two kids, one dream a sign in an empty street imagine sunlight, two girls laughing a camera on a stand two kids, embraced digging through boxes like old memories wrapped in a cloth of nostalgia imagine twilight, two girls talking all the tenses at once a figure in a bed two kids, waking up alone a confused smile dark and ashamed, a wish taken for granted imagine emotion, a frantic outburst two kids, coldly distant yet never so close a strangled reply filled with hurried thoughts imagine morning two girls far apart a position shared two kids, on a kitchen floor knees brought up to their chests one takes hold of a knife the noticeable difference imagine desperation, two girls crying a single tear, a single drop of blood the start of a long battle two kids, completely unalike yet perfectly similar imagine happiness, a diploma in hand not a single thought spared to a desperate struggle to regain what was lost two kids, not kid anymore a new beginning, a haunted past trapped inside a keyhole imagine silence, nothing will ever be the same a first love, not quite right two kids, forever changed a memory that holds no purpose
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 5:47 AM UTC
Kimberly
Born in different worlds we became unalike people Its funny they say opposites attract but really it should have been illegal Cause sometimes our differences make it painful to stay We laugh and chat but I have to disguise my pain Whenever I'm sad I reminisce about our past and ignore why I am mad I give you reasons and covers, throw my feelings in the trash Its not your fault cause I never say But why cant you recognise how miserable I am some days Why did I ever let it get this bad? Is it you or is it me that I'm disappointed at By Lunar
0
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 7:19 PM UTC
Growing together but maybe apart
Eyes that Lies heart of disguise hurt is the truth mourns of youth for no reasons why Eyes that Lies a painted door feelings to sigh not even knowing what could be inside Eyes that Lies self that hides shades unalike each of us despise a feeling of outside
0
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 10:49 AM UTC
◦ Eyes that Lies
*When is suicide romanic? Tragic? Appalling? These questions bear their wait In the back of my spinning mind Here I squeeze the grip of a butcher’s knife, Not in the moonlight, but the ever-graying sky When no ears can hear the reverberating echo From your cries in the lies where you lost yourself so deeply When no one is willing to think of you For fear of ruining their day, Then is it perfectly unselfish to at upon unendurable pain In the blush of the night And the rolling, roaring peal of thunder The dark clouds express the torment Far better than my pathetic cries for condolence Yes, I’m cherishing my thoughtful misery As if it were unalike any other But I know it will end so quickly If I’d just jump the roof, ****** the dagger With the unbelievable, deafening, so blinding silence I know that nothing can lance the quiet With my towel in hand My last plunge in soon to come In the endless depths Of sorrow’s irrevocable ocean*
0
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
Don't blame those who are suffering
Birds on a wire, the murderous crows commonly known as an omen of doom silently staring and perching in rows What might they be pondering, I cannot suppose, their black, piercing eyes bore into my room Birds on a wire, the murderous crows Outside my window the flock slowly grows unsettled, I watch them gather and loom silently, staring and perching in rows. The flapping of wings sings songs of sorrows here with a message for me, I assume. Birds on a wire, the murderous crows My fear has ebbed of these wondrous fellows; you see, we're not unalike I presume-- silently staring and perching in rows. Pencil tapping, I stare out the window perched on my chair as I sit in the gloom Birds on a wire, the murderous crows, silently staring and perching in rows.
0
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
The Murderous Crows
Breaking our hands apart In this loud mini-mart You hate that touch It’s just too much Well when will it be enough? That’s just tough Pretending to care I make this one swear You’ll be taken care of When will I get this love? Retrieving this caring hand back from you Just give me one **** clue You’re not what I was expecting Your old soul is not worth resurrecting What’s with all this mess? This is just my best guess We’re too unalike Thrown into this month long sike I said that’s it Enough of this endless pit
0
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Endless Pit
It happened that night, Friday He finally broke his silence, He spoke of us being too different Too different to be meant for each other Two different kinds of peas, to Unalike to fit in one pod He didn't speak of his life being to low to compare to mine His lips didn't have to say it His gaze said enough His eyes told his story of unhappiness His distance showed me his new found direction Away from this relationship I tried to prevent him from leaving, but all my efforts proved futile He no longer wanted to conversate Neither did he have intentions to negotiate He didn't want to work it out He didn't even try After that moment I sat with a fixed gaze into realms beyond my own understanding Reaching miles of strange feelings That soft mushy feeling had dissolved And his name no longer gave me chills Deleting his pictures and contacts was effortlessly done Thats when it hit me We were over We had fallen love
0
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Fallen LOVE
I have not been honest with you and I think that it is about time that I am. Ever since I first saw you, across the park with both of our heads bent over some sort of controversial art, I have always thought you more mind than matter but contrary to my indecisive head you always put me before my words. If you were still here listening to what I have to say I guarantee you would compliment more the effort I may or may not have put into my hair this morning than the effortlessness of the trash spewing from my lips. I should have seen the danger of this after your constant affection of my ears and chest and toes - you adored every bit of my that you could see - but I was too caught up in you being caught up in my eyes that I could not see that you didn't like them for the shine but for the shade. I think I finally started to understand when you painted pictures of me doing normal things - cooking, writing, smiling - but nothing natural, like sleeping - which I often and always mused about in prose about you, my dear - or just thinking. They must have been much too mundane. Your sketches of clothes and trees and urban sprawl were impressive but lacked depth. It was as if you were unable to see past the surface like every lake you stood and stared at was covered in a silvery film you were unable to pierce, even in the most shallow places. We were too unalike - I trained myself to see each person as a character with a blank slate for hair color and texture and the size of hands and feet, but you saw only freckles where they shouldn't have been and fingernails too long or too shorts and although you found it all beautiful, it took more than aesthetics to find a tell tale heart. You lost mine beneath the lake waters.
0
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
30 000 leagues under the sea without you
I have not been honest with you and I think that it is about time that I am. Ever since I first saw you, across the park with both of our heads bent over some sort of controversial art, I have always thought you more mind than matter but contrary to my indecisive head you always put me before my words. If you were still here listening to what I have to say I guarantee you would compliment more the effort I may or may not have put into my hair this morning than the effortlessness of the trash spewing from my lips. I should have seen the danger of this after your constant affection of my ears and chest and toes - you adored every bit of my that you could see - but I was too caught up in you being caught up in my eyes that I could not see that you didn't like them for the shine but for the shade. I think I finally started to understand when you painted pictures of me doing normal things - cooking, writing, smiling - but nothing natural, like sleeping - which I often and always mused about in prose about you, my dear - or just thinking. They must have been much too mundane. Your sketches of clothes and trees and urban sprawl were impressive but lacked depth. It was as if you were unable to see past the surface like every lake you stood and stared at was covered in a silvery film you were unable to pierce, even in the most shallow places. We were too unalike - I trained myself to see each person as a character with a blank slate for hair color and texture and the size of hands and feet, but you saw only freckles where they shouldn't have been and fingernails too long or too shorts and although you found it all beautiful, it took more than aesthetics to find a tell tale heart. You lost mine beneath the lake waters.
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7
little boy when do you learn? you're already burnt i can tell you wanna get burnt but you are looking at me with that irritated smile i'm smiling with my mask on as we both are unalike an american girl and a boy can search for so much more but you are just a mien see the ghosts inside of my mind as you're to see were all a little insane at times when it comes to you and me i see eagerness but i don't want to be difficult at all a boy can be a set as a main a girl can be set as a pleasure but does not mean we can take them for granted
0
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
11:27pm
Twisted, curled and straight. Many of them reticulate. Some are rough, some gloss. And few of them crisscross. Through mountains and canons. Some desolate and barren. Some through foliage unmown. Ending of all is unknown. Unalike yet all attract and allure. With open arms tempt to explore. Each path inviting like a ***** Still another I search evermore.
0
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
Aimless iv
You're a sunflower. I'm the crestfallen. All I can see are colours when I'm looking at you. Unalike me, i'm all grey and black. You remind me of the missing part of me. The me I was looking for all this while. Everyday I saw you, closer yet far. You're like the missing puzzle i'm yearning for, that I can't possessed that I wanted to trace with my fingers, but I can't. because, your infatuation are on others, that I can't compare.
0
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC
Crestfallen
Words To Love: Interconnection Crisis after crisis: interconnected. Deeds apparent or invisible: connected. Phases, patterns unalike, yet linked and ‘synched’* With Laws pertaining. Do not question, and be certain: Every force contains its obverse. Things expand and then contract - Bodies, flowers - all its contacts… Interacting constantly, the powers of reality; Related somehow, here and now. And so, we reconstruct, re-form; Nature forming forms forever. Adapting and accommodating, Interacting and connecting, Thus, collecting and correcting Continent by continent. Intra-, inter- without end. short for synchronised Words to Love: Interconnection 4.18.2021 Circling Round Reality;Circling Round Everything II; Arlene Nover Corwin
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Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 2:07 PM UTC
Words To Love: Interconnection
I crumble in fear, a cold shiver shrivels up my spine, as your names are yelled across the town. Though I call you not the same; Still I see no difference, And yearn to respect every one of your child The blood that rushes through my veins, holds nothing sweet to the name I call; The very skin and torso you made for me, does not bear any sign that signals me apart We brothers are all the same; But its war out there; cutting the throat; that calls you unalike I am dragged down to the dust, beaten to the chill of my spine; As the bloodshot eyes, holds no mercy, I give up my physical being, hold no pain; I understand; the heavy cuts on my flesh aren’t as deep As the vengeance in those eyes. The heart that pumps thousand drops of blood, lies unaware of the name of the God I call; As I lie strewn on the streets, on your name I cry, ‘Why so many names you have, God’? Why couldn’t you be the same, like the heart that thumps in every man’s chest.
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Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 11:49 PM UTC
The Name I Call
My sister is not my sister, but a stranger of same skin. It seems that our relation is all but running thin. My brother is not my brother, but a man of unalike mind. And his warmth and embrace are things I cannot find. I do not know the people society claims are close. The people society claims are meant to know me most. I wish I knew these people but it cannot be true. Because, siblings, my life must be done without you.
0
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC
Half a Relation
Him and I are unalike, that is why we fit together. You and I are for one another, that is why we are meant forever.
0
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC
Untitled