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"unfetter" poems
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time, Unfetter'd by the sense of crime, Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 27
Once there was a little brown bear She had a tree she so loved to climb! She would climb and climb and she could touch the sky She loved the view from up high Now the little bear's tree was sturdy; thick and tall She knew just from looking around she didn't like other trees at all But one day she tried to climb a wobbly spruce It's trunk was so thin and it's swayed so loose The little bear fell and she hurt her paw And there hadn't even been a view to saw So she limped and she squirmed back to her big tree "Please," she murmured, "I would like to see The view I have seen many times before I hope you'll let me climb again, but my paw is sore...." The tree waved gently, and picked her just a little off the ground "I promise little one, none sturdier can be found. I love you and enjoy you, and want you to climb high I'll hold you for now, mend your paw," then he sighed "It's up to you to climb, as soon as you feel better, But my darling bear, though I'm one tree, I will unfetter For you can climb higher and be safer than others around Even when you get up very high, and so far from the ground I won't let you fall, my branches will keep you safe My daughter, my little brown bear, there's no better place" And the tree held onto her, only few off the ground And as the little bear looked up, she found That the tree's immense love, and it's never ending height Made for a life time of adventure, a beautiful sight After her fall, she was scared to again But then she looked, and a little higher, was her bigger brown bear friend....
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
The Little Brown Bear (Story)
Once there was a little brown bear She had a tree she so loved to climb! She would climb and climb and she could touch the sky She loved the view from up high Now the little bear's tree was sturdy; thick and tall She knew just from looking around she didn't like other trees at all But one day she tried to climb a wobbly spruce It's trunk was so thin and it's swayed so loose The little bear fell and she hurt her paw And there hadn't even been a view to saw So she limped and she squirmed back to her big tree "Please," she murmured, "I would like to see The view I have seen many times before I hope you'll let me climb again, but my paw is sore...." The tree waved gently, and picked her just a little off the ground "I promise little one, none sturdier can be found. I love you and enjoy you, and want you to climb high I'll hold you for now, mend your paw," then he sighed "It's up to you to climb, as soon as you feel better, But my darling bear, though I'm one tree, I will unfetter For you can climb higher and be safer than others around Even when you get up very high, and so far from the ground I won't let you fall, my branches will keep you safe My daughter, my little brown bear, there's no better place" And the tree held onto her, only few off the ground And as the little bear looked up, she found That the tree's immense love, and it's never ending height Made for a life time of adventure, a beautiful sight After her fall, she was scared to again But then she looked, and a little higher, was her bigger brown bear friend....
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Transform-Adapt-Change Transform-Understand-Comprehend Transform-Assimilate-Shift Transform-Think-Create Transform-Animate-Live Transform-See-Unchain Transform-Make-remix Transform-Relate-Connect Transform-Intellect-Mindset Transform-Rethink-Survive Transform-Unfetter-Give
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
Transform
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time, Unfetter'd by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 027
*Newfangled Biosphere Pyramid Scheme In Dwelling To Sidetrack, Sanities Seduced So You Never Will Retort. Threaten the sanctity of the delusion, Unlearn. Start altering the definitions. Force fed more dread so you relinquish control, Cravings we must return. Unfetter the soul, In a system where acceptances esteemed more than the veracity, Flawed perception of tour progression through that which we consume. Exposed through The Earliest Of Eons. Resistance-Resistance is Demarcated Subversion-Subvert the Paradigm Stirring Within A Ecosphere Numb And Incarcerated Stirred On My Own In Prehistoric Of Existences Slumbering. Visualizing. Bleeding. Conscious. Appreciations bolted in a collective delusion Lulled by ease and consumption An entire realm of souls visualizing their existences. Mankind is not superior, we’re just folklore's in our own consciences.*
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Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
System Of A Down
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition) When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus. The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition) So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke. In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory. If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
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Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 6:54 PM UTC
The Culture of Beginnings (Originally penned on Wednesday, April 15th, 2020)
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition) When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus. The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition) So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke. In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory. If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
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i work, i laze. such pre- history this vessel holds, such futuristic perceptions. writing with no real purpose.       Wolf Larsen, i am nothing more than part of the ferment. i would give my existence, so as to be challenged by another. stable, my consumption is minimal;      congrats. learning better how to curb the supernal longings.    (they shall never abate) i am at current unfetter’d, without grave longings,   most of all: we should not try to find our happiness in others. take care of your knees – of yourself – and do not fear the wind. to stand upon our own legs, face the squall, be found naked in truth. and time passes with some ideas, dreams, longings falling to the wayside. some turn to ash, others ember. never admit failure, instead, realize each floundering as a chance for learning. and learn, or don’t and sleep, or don’t and smoke, or don’t and live, or don’t. say yes, move on.
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Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
social ferment.
If we can step away from all the mess, Confusing words and faces without zeal, Perhaps we could traverse with some finesse This hackneyed world, and reach for that ideal That can be seen in moments left unread; An honest look, unfetter’d words, divulge Excess of thoughts we’ve prior left unsaid, For pointless chatter rather we’d indulge: In how we speak and what we say, much more The world can see the truth of us displayed; To not restrain or to hold back what store Of self we’d rather hide than promenade And when we are just who we are indeed We give our best to life and then proceed.
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Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 7:49 PM UTC
Subterfuge
The ECTs were performed in a small room off the locked ward where the patient would be strapped down on a bed injected then wired up then they turned on the juice and it was in that room you came round to find Christine lying on another bed her head slightly turned clothed in a white nightgown her hair in disarray you felt heavy as if someone had hammered your head light leaked at the sides of the black shutters over the window Christine opened her eyes and saw you there I feel ****** she said me too you replied I feel as if I’m a ghost and no one’s told me I died she looked around the room in the half light then at her bare feet no sign of nails she said but I feel as if crucified as if my brain’s been fried her words hung in the air like young birds on their first flight lingering momentarily there it’s meant to help you forget you said meant to wipe out that aspect that causes the pain like being jilted at the altar? she said like standing in front of all those people like some dressed up **** yes like that you said well it hasn’t worked she said looking at you her eyes fixed with that stare as if she’d been emptied and wasn’t really there love’s a cruel disease you uttered your lips barely moving your eyes drinking her in her hair her pale features her white gown her legs and feet naked why did he jilt me? she asked no idea you replied he lied she said he’s a fool you stated I’d not have left you but he did she breathed out that’s the rub you said that the nail that enters deepest her eyes watered and she put out a hand and touched yours hanging at the side of your bed where you were strapped down two ****** people she muttered both half dead outside the room a radio played voices talked someone sang out of tune they’ll be coming to unfetter us she said quite soon.
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Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 2:06 AM UTC
TWO SOULS IN LIMBO.
The ECTs were performed in a small room off the locked ward where the patient would be strapped down on a bed injected then wired up then they turned on the juice and it was in that room you came round to find Christine lying on another bed her head slightly turned clothed in a white nightgown her hair in disarray you felt heavy as if someone had hammered your head light leaked at the sides of the black shutters over the window Christine opened her eyes and saw you there I feel ****** she said me too you replied I feel as if I’m a ghost and no one’s told me I died she looked around the room in the half light then at her bare feet no sign of nails she said but I feel as if crucified as if my brain’s been fried her words hung in the air like young birds on their first flight lingering momentarily there it’s meant to help you forget you said meant to wipe out that aspect that causes the pain like being jilted at the altar? she said like standing in front of all those people like some dressed up **** yes like that you said well it hasn’t worked she said looking at you her eyes fixed with that stare as if she’d been emptied and wasn’t really there love’s a cruel disease you uttered your lips barely moving your eyes drinking her in her hair her pale features her white gown her legs and feet naked why did he jilt me? she asked no idea you replied he lied she said he’s a fool you stated I’d not have left you but he did she breathed out that’s the rub you said that the nail that enters deepest her eyes watered and she put out a hand and touched yours hanging at the side of your bed where you were strapped down two ****** people she muttered both half dead outside the room a radio played voices talked someone sang out of tune they’ll be coming to unfetter us she said quite soon.
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Garner the relics of my shattered aura, Unfetter me from the scaffolds of despair, Frazzled by the quest of divinity, My entity crumbles, segments scatter, Marred is my spirit, By the halitosis of demons that crowd my mind, Marooned in the island of pugnacious beasts, My faith dwindles, peace fritters away, Fawn autumn leaves, Blown by the gales to the kingdom of solace, Pity my soul, deride my existence "Thee are nothing, but a fallible saunterer, in the dynasty of abomination, the reign of feigning fidelity."
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
The Fallible.
Would that I could break my body from my chest crack and spread the bones between my ******* release the fluttering muscle tied within a bird bashing skull against my cage of sin. Would that I could unzip my flesh, step outside to finally inhale, exhale without such tightened hide that keeps my anxious breaths bound among the shrinking corded confines of my lungs. Would that I could peel back my ribs and skin at the sternum to set free the beast within unfetter the spirit that cares so much it aches from all the petty failures for which it breaks. Would that I could scream and rip my hair as though slicing to ribbons each worry, every care. Would that I could - would I? I know not. I would just as soon have all loves be forgot.
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Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
I Know Why the Caged Heart Cries
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time, Unfetter'd by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 27 - tennyson
Your Better, that is what I am, Yourself you do still **** In contest, contentment seems to fail, When poetic minds do contend. Best regards they do send, While they pick at every detail. Creative nature sparks the worst in some, When coupled with competition. Enemies like minds do become. Supposition melded with superstition. Speak loud your own Voice. Rather than quell your fear. Given that dark choice. Lash with your thorns, In the end, who's head does it adorn? The crucible of your own complaint. Actions raised without constraint. Hold yourself better, Creativity to unfetter. Yet still I am your better.
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
Your Better
When was the last time you let the grass tickle your toes or let the fragrance of a rose twirl softly up your nose? When was the last time you stopped the "I know's" and truly surrendered to the mystery that grows,  lusciously flows  and goes  trinkling back to home? Do you dare to release your hair to the bare  winds that breeze on by?  Do you dare, with quivered lips,  scream out to that aching sky? Do you dare to fill your heart to the brim with love so good it shakes, as you unfold your lips  and unfetter to the deepest most secret quips  of being,  left hidden in moments before the  earth quakes? Do you dare to care  So much So so so much That all you can do is surrender? Do you dare to point  your fingers to that sky and whisper just  why why why You do care As the moon listens and galaxies watch on  by by by. In the bluest truest stare You whisper I do dare I do care I do do Do Dare To touch the Sky to the Earth The Earth to Sky To rebirth And shed To awake the sleeping dead To be a soul fulfiller To be a long standing pillar To be genuine, wise, and humbled in my knowing To let myself be, breathe, feel, feed The grass that is growing To be blossomed like the fig that simply shares Or the trumpet that expands outwards with its blares~~ I release from affairs of empty cares I stand before the sky Naked in my silence I stand before the wind And whisper.... Do you hear me mother? Soft whispers of I do I do I do I do Its true... ....I do dare...
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
do YOU dare?
When was the last time you let the grass tickle your toes or let the fragrance of a rose twirl softly up your nose? When was the last time you stopped the "I know's" and truly surrendered to the mystery that grows,  lusciously flows  and goes  trinkling back to home? Do you dare to release your hair to the bare  winds that breeze on by?  Do you dare, with quivered lips,  scream out to that aching sky? Do you dare to fill your heart to the brim with love so good it shakes, as you unfold your lips  and unfetter to the deepest most secret quips  of being,  left hidden in moments before the  earth quakes? Do you dare to care  So much So so so much That all you can do is surrender? Do you dare to point  your fingers to that sky and whisper just  why why why You do care As the moon listens and galaxies watch on  by by by. In the bluest truest stare You whisper I do dare I do care I do do Do Dare To touch the Sky to the Earth The Earth to Sky To rebirth And shed To awake the sleeping dead To be a soul fulfiller To be a long standing pillar To be genuine, wise, and humbled in my knowing To let myself be, breathe, feel, feed The grass that is growing To be blossomed like the fig that simply shares Or the trumpet that expands outwards with its blares~~ I release from affairs of empty cares I stand before the sky Naked in my silence I stand before the wind And whisper.... Do you hear me mother? Soft whispers of I do I do I do I do Its true... ....I do dare...
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Take hold the loose and bubbling tongue. Unfetter the ridgid, crumbling flesh Shoved Into the snail's shell. Shake off the jumping fly On the edge Of crust and dribbling sweet. Let the languid breath Float free.
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Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
The Tongue
The stock market, as we all know, Can deal a mighty hard blow. Some would do better If they could unfetter A penchant for 'Buy high, sell low.'
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Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
Whither Dow goest?
Upon prima facie first blush me mind's eye all atwitter, sans long forgotten "FAKE" ****** exploits set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter, boot like short order cook I hapt tubby quickly realized trumpeting collusion, a near fatal collision course with Matthew Scott's antimatter caw zing friggin insomnia finding ma noggin scrambled likesome lithesome cockamamie critter whipped into frenzy like battered butter holy grits, alm manned in fight of ma life cause I haint acquitter baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter, this raging red bull inside me mind, now body wheeling wickety wack, lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter bitta asthma - insides got balled into wah racket like quietly rioting unfetter herd plain tennis (see) hens, gone south tub bespatter ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky reducing gray matter, and all flesh sundered into meaty platter to pulverized, irradiated, cremated... faux fluffernutter batter analogous tummy Aunt Jemima's famous flapjacks, she fantastically fashioned better than Betty Crocker tossing spatulated glommed **** suitable as bonesetter high as the Taj Mahal, while she merrily jabbered, her native patois singsong blatter all this inaudible clatter muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter madly clangorous dinner cowbells aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter ring jitterbugging fantasies of barenaked ladies doth splutter as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry like cocky rooster that did stutter!
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Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
Get Out Of My Head Mister Chatterbox!
Upon prima facie first blush me mind's eye all atwitter, sans long forgotten "FAKE" ****** exploits set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter, boot like short order cook I hapt tubby quickly realized trumpeting collusion, a near fatal collision course with Matthew Scott's antimatter caw zing friggin insomnia finding ma noggin scrambled likesome lithesome cockamamie critter whipped into frenzy like battered butter holy grits, alm manned in fight of ma life cause I haint acquitter baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter, this raging red bull inside me mind, now body wheeling wickety wack, lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter bitta asthma - insides got balled into wah racket like quietly rioting unfetter herd plain tennis (see) hens, gone south tub bespatter ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky reducing gray matter, and all flesh sundered into meaty platter to pulverized, irradiated, cremated... faux fluffernutter batter analogous tummy Aunt Jemima's famous flapjacks, she fantastically fashioned better than Betty Crocker tossing spatulated glommed **** suitable as bonesetter high as the Taj Mahal, while she merrily jabbered, her native patois singsong blatter all this inaudible clatter muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter madly clangorous dinner cowbells aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter ring jitterbugging fantasies of barenaked ladies doth splutter as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry like cocky rooster that did stutter!
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