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"unanimity" poems
I am darkness I am light, I am chaos I am might, lies and truth unite, Fear and bravery, envy with hatred and love finally combined, I am the difference between illusions and dreams, nothing as it seems, Nightmares and mirrages, a realm of infinity and finite by its means, I am fusion and fission, with one simple yet very complex misssion, Energy and indolence, a wall, another fence, questions upon answers If small lies give rise to grand falsities, what is the truth gonna bring ? A place where you should be able to feel reality and fantasy's sting, Apathy and concern unite, come closer I don't really bite, trust me, My teeth look sharp, yet they are blunt, you can rant or stay calm, I am a living death wandering yet standing still, does it make you ill? Generosity and greed are both present while they are missing, still! Control the lies of your uncontrollable tounge, listen to the silence, Could we possibly agree that this unanimity relies in total dissension? I am the discouragement for your precious, little yet pure intentions, Aimlessness for hope of a future unexplored yet near enough to grasp I am the rue in pride, a lamp without light, elusive but not transient, A harmonic ramgage, riots over the horizon in undefined dark light, I am malevolent and benevolent, bent yet straight, right behind you, What am I ? ~ Umi
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Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Inexplicably Undefined
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing, as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness surrenders very reluctantly, full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use, keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat - a big difference through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm, my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence and other such mental knottings my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape, coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot, which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary but atheist-acceptable to her morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the physical and physics theorems funny how some prayers, where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine, uttered without any contemplation are yet deep comforting for their inherency, so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body, well hid neath a summer coverlet, wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission I comfort her, above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet, till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot, my praying reaches the end of its rope, where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution no longer needed, but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping, not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice my comfort is her extra comforter, an offering of coffee my reward, for my daily work has begun, and I have many more poems stillborn that require coaxing stroking to become witnesses to living
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Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
I comfort her ****** a coaxing
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing, as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness surrenders very reluctantly, full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use, keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat - a big difference through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm, my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence and other such mental knottings my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape, coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot, which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary but atheist-acceptable to her morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the physical and physics theorems funny how some prayers, where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine, uttered without any contemplation are yet deep comforting for their inherency, so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body, well hid neath a summer coverlet, wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission I comfort her, above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet, till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot, my praying reaches the end of its rope, where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution no longer needed, but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping, not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice my comfort is her extra comforter, an offering of coffee my reward, for my daily work has begun, and I have many more poems stillborn that require coaxing stroking to become witnesses to living
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40
Ardor Beauty Cascading Debris, Envy Frantically Glorifying Her Idiotic Jealousy, Killing Love Messing Negativity, Oozing Pride Quaking Restlessly, Slither Tricking Unanimity, Vexed Wretched Xenophobic Yearning Zombie.
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May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
The Racist Alphabet
You’ll find them in all such establishments, (Be they graceful small-town former Victorian homes, Or cinderblock edifices mindful of some campus multi-faith center) Sitting in the basement, cheek-to-jowl With moldering burial records and banking statements, Yellowed newspaper clippings, faded prayer cards Small squared-off boxes hastily tabbed together, Ostensibly temporary containers which have acquired An unintended and wholly unwelcome permanence. The whys and wherefores of their subterranean placement A mixed bag of foible and outright foolishness: Unresolvable squabbles concerning possession and burial, Families that skipped out on the bill, leaving mom behind, Cases of outright not giving a good-goddamn. And so they remain, in lieu of repatriation and redemption, To sit for something akin to perpetuity in some cases (Members of the profession resolute in their respect For the dignity of life, Though their sincerity enjoys less unanimity) While others wait for mass burial Once legal niceties have been satisfied, While still others, in care of firms not so scrupulous About crossing their t’s and dotting their i’s, Are flung, albeit somewhat surreptitiously, out the back door, The remains to take flight if the grass is dry and the wind is brisk, Otherwise to be left to the vagaries Of curious birds and creped soles.
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC
the unclaimed
Organelles, cells, tissues, organs shape my body My soul, my brain, my heart, my identity A living mass and a concept ineluctably associated Without necessarily working adequately together To build something close to a character That is, by some, tolerated, by a few, appreciated Never reaching any sort of unanimity Leaving the volume of possible interpretations as plenty Context strictly guides aspects of my behavior Adding an extra ‘s’ to my idiosyncrasy that primarily seems out of place When being singular is often what wins the race Launched by our most ancient ancestor Am I one or plural? Do I have one personality or several? Am I what I think or what I do? What others see or what I expose? An ignorant mind with a decent prose Or a curious man who has no clue? Asking a question is to get closer to an answer That might emerge in a distant future In the meantime, I try to be and do good To put my loved ones in the best possible mood Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail But my stubborn intention will always prevail
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Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 6:04 AM UTC
IDed
Is it ever going to go away It starts on the inside the one that no one asks to stay the slide I fight but still contrive Start at zero, rise then fall the ground keeps rising so I'll stand tall Compulsion built by the ego's indulgence divulging wilt's the universe's repulsion Subconscious whims to recognize the prime elect to analyze Creature's time spent on watching themselves while truth like an old toy sits upon the shelf Define dignity by humanity's degradation the willingness of every nation Nuclear unanimity, will never start from the surface or the boundaries beyond It comes from the origin within a navel energetic pond The mind collects, stores in the belly, transforms in the heart, then comes glandular manifestation The armistice of enmity and the achievement of a fool's paradise through all generations What kind of light will you freeze? What temple will you create? Or will it all be your temple Will you bring the stagnation of light or keep our existence in flux?
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
Inner peace
Vision...the perpetual resurrection of light, tipping point whose interstice of darkness is overcome, spreads the image clear. Furrowing the brow of space like a great perennial philosophy--the nexus of contradistinction and unanimity. Brilliant point via wave, wave via point lit manifest...hence, objects to sequence the speed of light which relents time. Unerring panorama whose open ended gape presupposes the conclusive evidence of poetic salt in all its worthiness. At the starry behest of a many-sunned convention, apace with rarefied perception. Vision...the illusory stasis of light, whose translation is perception--mines the fusion of angles, of a three hundred and sixty degree order. This plenary dispatch, exalting the sum of its parts...inbuilt fractal minding, mining parts which are The Sum. ...Om...
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
Mines the Fusion of Angles
Meaning is entirely subjective in a world where some starve & others ********** & someone, somewhere, breaks an iPhone. How do I find unanimity in the midst of spectrums, ranges, & degrees in which one falls? Who is like me? Who is like you?
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
Wavelengths
In life, I thought I had everything, The answers of the heart were lost; I idolized the women of my dream, But Christ had paid the ultimate cost. Not by bread alone, Shall I live a life again… I manipulated other as well as myself, The child of a King behaved so immorally; Putting the fear of God second to all else, I started to talk of Him without any loyalty. Not by bread alone, Shall I speak of life within… Man cannot live by bread alone, We need the true bread of life; The world was saved by our own Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. So I will not do it, By not bread alone… I have stolen from the holy storehouse, By not bothering to even tithe in truth; Cheerful giving is the least man endows For complete salvation in living proof. Not by bread alone, Shall I eat once more… Hatred I felt for my own brothers, As I slowly learned really to absolve; Jesus manifested genuinely to others Unanimity is how Christians evolved. Not by bread alone, Shall I be like before… Man cannot live by bread alone, We need the true bread of life; The world was saved by our own Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. So I will not do it, By not bread alone…
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Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Not By Bread Alone
the scared tittering of turtle doves forced to flap thru a peach wind. as lusts blare their fresh greens, to sweeten the scents pitting against dens of flesh. the unanimity of rise and entry-- driven to full ***********
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Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 12:54 PM UTC
***********
There is unanimity in the presence of Thought, Desire, and life. There is universality in Love, Pain, and shame. A consistence of connection, Proved by sympathy and empathy, But humans still feel alone. Our thought is based on what we've known, Our desire based o how we've grown, and life is just a thing we do, it's vague. I know, but it's true. Love is often unrequited, Pain divergent in attack, Shame is often isolating, and a façade of loneliness is left. But listen, speak, relate, and think, Widen your perspective. We can change the world someday, Because we're different yet still connected a.s.
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
Different but Connected
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ . . . of incantations in                         cantankerous philosophy!                 Of these lying liabilities,                        what startling objection, so accosting, has exhausted me? More so than     named quite unfortunate atrocity!   Shall hordes of thought be accursed by degrees of displeasing hostility   such that satiated curiosity                 be evermore abashed in me?                                 “. . . but I have admonished thee,”                                                             said he, this subtle, blackened tenant             with a tin man's tonality.                   This paper drum that bends to sing does beg of him the courtesy;           yet, acrid rhetoric singes the hair     with unfavorable flintlock fidelity. His evasive guarantee then               upends the pores relentlessly.         *“These words will compel a poor                     foresight to bleed in the fray           as cascading tears cast their weight                               upon cheek in dismay . . .”* . . . to quash the cypress toxin           of a caustic potpourri—                     a dissembling toupee                         to one's balding reality.                     O lasting opacity                                 of such poignant translucency,         this flagrant serendipity,                   once spawned, must always be?     Possibly; though, I cannot count     how many sets see dawns at sea.                         “. . . but I have astonished thee,”             said he through this Möbius rebuttal           like some soap on TV,                       though, it’s ne'er some rerun           what’s cliché wants creativity.         The veiling lee of his lofty marquee      beclouds that one pyrrhic mystery— that now-clandestine oblation         of one bless'ed unanimity.               *“Akin to a twin whose soul’s                     one sin was mine to portray.           ‘I’ll pay ne’er a thought!’                               curs’ed common naïveté . . .”* . . . and yet, that's cause to bend     reverent knee, not to thee,               but to that which mine                     eye's sole endeavor is to see.           “So, leave me be!”                             I lament, ostensibly,                         “Lest that passage fall paved           by none other than me.”                 Perhaps the Second World war     is just my cup of tea.                                           “. . . or perhaps this darkness is me,” said he
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
The Dearth in Discerning
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ . . . of incantations in                         cantankerous philosophy!                 Of these lying liabilities,                        what startling objection, so accosting, has exhausted me? More so than     named quite unfortunate atrocity!   Shall hordes of thought be accursed by degrees of displeasing hostility   such that satiated curiosity                 be evermore abashed in me?                                 “. . . but I have admonished thee,”                                                             said he, this subtle, blackened tenant             with a tin man's tonality.                   This paper drum that bends to sing does beg of him the courtesy;           yet, acrid rhetoric singes the hair     with unfavorable flintlock fidelity. His evasive guarantee then               upends the pores relentlessly.         *“These words will compel a poor                     foresight to bleed in the fray           as cascading tears cast their weight                               upon cheek in dismay . . .”* . . . to quash the cypress toxin           of a caustic potpourri—                     a dissembling toupee                         to one's balding reality.                     O lasting opacity                                 of such poignant translucency,         this flagrant serendipity,                   once spawned, must always be?     Possibly; though, I cannot count     how many sets see dawns at sea.                         “. . . but I have astonished thee,”             said he through this Möbius rebuttal           like some soap on TV,                       though, it’s ne'er some rerun           what’s cliché wants creativity.         The veiling lee of his lofty marquee      beclouds that one pyrrhic mystery— that now-clandestine oblation         of one bless'ed unanimity.               *“Akin to a twin whose soul’s                     one sin was mine to portray.           ‘I’ll pay ne’er a thought!’                               curs’ed common naïveté . . .”* . . . and yet, that's cause to bend     reverent knee, not to thee,               but to that which mine                     eye's sole endeavor is to see.           “So, leave me be!”                             I lament, ostensibly,                         “Lest that passage fall paved           by none other than me.”                 Perhaps the Second World war     is just my cup of tea.                                           “. . . or perhaps this darkness is me,” said he
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61
High west; alone, walking with darkness, pavement grinding itself to ruin. Where the feet meet, the ground scowls and I know that I have been here before and I know that this girl would not care, but when the last post banished its light, when night overcomes the street, that is when I have found my unanimity. Though the haunt may carry itself on, I cannot waiver; now my heart is set it would only betray this street I walk, this street that crumbles under my feet, down into ruin, with my heart. They call it transcendence, when it is only a falsehood.
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
The alleys.
clutching chaos in a tight embrace fingers clasped, a strong grasp   ask the trees, root deep snuggled in the soft soils of mama Earth yet skyrocketing, infinite potential ask the water skipping and stumbling in silly streams soon to transform into mighty rivers oceanic magnitudes conquering the expanse of this planet ask the flames making candles flicker weakly but in the same essence fuelling the volcano   a rudimentary relationship so simple yet vital to development its not a myth rather an equilibrium of elements in unequal proportions but complete unanimity
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Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
what is perfection
of recent days I've found a Texan chum she so concurs with my stance we're of the one thinking plum there's that familiar concordance in regards to a particular matter she so concurs with my stance our minds are definite of akin patter on expressing the very same thing in regards to a particular matter we've voiced it as the ditto type ring one is sure of her alike opinion on expressing the very same thing unanimity is our common dominion seldom will one see such assent one is sure of her alike opinion both of us being in principle consent seldom will one see such assent of recent days I've found a Texan chum we're of the one thinking plum
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May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
One Thinking Plum (Terzanelle)
Kate ***** and Anthony Bourdain both beloved affluential cognoscenti, (took their life via cerebral hypoxia) neither death can one explain left family and friends to speculate without lapsing into speculation impossible knot to veer off toward inane, where fame nor fortune no immunity against unbeknownst deathly accursed mental illness impact their adherents plus affect large swath of population in the main cuz, (strictly my opinion) the tightly woven world wide web doth plain lee meld humanity linkedin by avast societal reign forcing the global community to train energies toward heightened awareness (yes in vain) for those who tightened noose around neck as grief doth wax and wane no doubt less prominant persons amidst every walk of life give admittance to grim reaper, who doth stalk every mortal being tempting surrender soul for eternal peace, where soul asylum sacrifice forsaken to black hawk swooping down soundlessly to ****** priceless human life subsequently, whence benumbed onlookers gawk aware how precarious, riotous, and tenuous the psyche offers no resistance, nor doth balk at absent awareness, how collective adoration wears a funereally ghostly, horribly immensely joylessly knitted veil eludes measurement, though nonetheless unanimity that far reaching sadness weighs heavy on tear filled side of scale witnessed by grievous next of kin, who struggle to accept severe de rail ment of unsuspecting hidden agony im pail ling corporeal flesh gouging body electric on par with a nine inch nail jaggedly renting asunder (an unseen male strum) pitching one incognito, no matter she/he appears hearty and hale leaving a wake of inconsolable paroxysms causing thee human league to ail!
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Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
No Room For Gallows Humor
Kate ***** and Anthony Bourdain both beloved affluential cognoscenti, (took their life via cerebral hypoxia) neither death can one explain left family and friends to speculate without lapsing into speculation impossible knot to veer off toward inane, where fame nor fortune no immunity against unbeknownst deathly accursed mental illness impact their adherents plus affect large swath of population in the main cuz, (strictly my opinion) the tightly woven world wide web doth plain lee meld humanity linkedin by avast societal reign forcing the global community to train energies toward heightened awareness (yes in vain) for those who tightened noose around neck as grief doth wax and wane no doubt less prominant persons amidst every walk of life give admittance to grim reaper, who doth stalk every mortal being tempting surrender soul for eternal peace, where soul asylum sacrifice forsaken to black hawk swooping down soundlessly to ****** priceless human life subsequently, whence benumbed onlookers gawk aware how precarious, riotous, and tenuous the psyche offers no resistance, nor doth balk at absent awareness, how collective adoration wears a funereally ghostly, horribly immensely joylessly knitted veil eludes measurement, though nonetheless unanimity that far reaching sadness weighs heavy on tear filled side of scale witnessed by grievous next of kin, who struggle to accept severe de rail ment of unsuspecting hidden agony im pail ling corporeal flesh gouging body electric on par with a nine inch nail jaggedly renting asunder (an unseen male strum) pitching one incognito, no matter she/he appears hearty and hale leaving a wake of inconsolable paroxysms causing thee human league to ail!
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55
I live vividly without visibly having the ability to live willingly nor the versatility to fight your volatility. Unequivocally I believe in relativity but unofficially I use negativity as a means of self-sufficiency. Naturally I have a proclivity towards acting predictably when publicly judging turbidity. Additionally I hide in anonymity and indignantly ignore my epiphany of the asymmetry of unanimity. Shamefacedly I turn to your intricate dystrophy and observe the futility of my soliloquy. I can' find nobility in dying deliberately, but it shows efficiency in skimming humanity. Initially my hostility was untangible but it has suspiciously aquired solidity and is now intermittently sending signs of my eccentricity. My alkalinity is running low because surreptitiously the pungency has grown. I am undoubtedly peripheral to the society and irresistibly disposable in the industry of this idiosyncrasy.
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Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
Felicity Deficiency
I have feelings to feel wen i see scars of inhumanity on faces of dictators i feel vanishing them wen i see developing future on the ruins of rich past i feel deceasing them I have feelings to feel wen love is not adhered to its compassion i feel loving the losing tears more wen a child is not addressed with innocence & reckless survival is a quest i feel questioning every living being I have feeling to feel wen world is progression in every field and sack of humans are roaring beneath i feel conjuring unanimity I have feelings to feel may masses start to feel my feelings
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 8:40 AM UTC
FEELINGS
Seal me in a cell Of serendipity Dismayed I feel the flooding Wishing well Of unanimity Betrayed You know my name, Control my brain, Made me exclaim it As I came And in your absence I am rapturous, A ravenous Despair And in my sadness I am avarice A fathomless Nightmare The prey ensnared, The barely breathing Sense of freedom Self-deceiving There is only Bound volition Inclination To be yours A blind ambition’s Snap revision Of my book Of nevermores
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May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 12:16 AM UTC
The Maestro of Discord
we shall see default expansion the day we are truly free. we shall identity in no faction but in unanimity with no skeleton key. that day we can conjure up the plan to explore within and beyond galaxy. can you imagine alien called HUMAN landing on another earth in distant days? i can imagine it but never vivid i used to think bigger in old days so lets ignore this **** it is just my childish wish .
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Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 5:15 AM UTC
childish