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"unnecessary" poems
left my phone unlocked on the taxi’s back seat, won't be the last time called it a few times finally, the driver picked up he had a fare immediately after mine, and was now headed way downtown, and would call later when fate returned him nearer my office and so it came to pass, very shortly thereafter, we met on the street, he rolled down  the window and with the greatest smile of pleasure, as if he had won the lottery beaming, handed me my phone I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred, neatly folded in my hand   and offered it right up, right away; but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away as I insisted, saying: *"No sir, no no, not necessary! Allah sent me a fare that took me soon back close to you, so,   no loss of time did I suffer, so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"* to which I replied, *"exactly! Allah sent you to me so I could reward you!"* and with an equally, beaming smile I continued, *"our ride and meeting today, together was pre-ordained it was* Inshallah!" ^ something he could not dispute... or my knowledge thereof and it’s proper pronouncement, nor his amazement, to disguise!   we parted ways    each believing,    each receiving, a heavenly check plus, each, credited with a mitzvah^^ on our respective trip logs, our humanly divine balance sheets, kept by the single supreme taxi dispatcher
0
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
inshallah my cell phone
He has taken rake and shovel in hand, Taking advantage of the light, Rare in these climes this time of year, Still welcomed, though rendered severe By the sun's reluctant trudge above the horizon, The type which, sauntering through a window pane (Falling upon a crucifix anchored above a cradle Or some ancient, gilded frame Containing a photo of some grandparent's wedding day, Exploding into full undifferentiated diffusion) May possess a dram of warmth, albeit resigned, nostalgic A bittersweet reminder of what has gone by (And in the shade, the air is filled With the portentous chill of what lies a few months hence) But there nonetheless as he tends to those final farewells From the trees bowing to December's inevitability, The droppings not the Pollock-esque bursts of October (Those having been collected and consigned To the normal corner of the back lot) But dreary brown-hued things, not welcomed by eye nor heart, Simply corralled perfunctorily and dismissed. One could contend that such activity is unnecessary, The mere vanity of all endeavor, As the snow will come soon, and steady as well, Performing the seasonal, cyclical function in its own time, But he soldiers on nonetheless, a unseen one-act nearly-farce, Painstakingly raking and bending and scraping To leave his patch of green uncovered for a little while Until the locking time comes to seal the earth's secrets once more, To be revealed to those Who shall receive the teasing ministrations Of the fickle, fitful March equinox.
0
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
November In The Sun
He has taken rake and shovel in hand, Taking advantage of the light, Rare in these climes this time of year, Still welcomed, though rendered severe By the sun's reluctant trudge above the horizon, The type which, sauntering through a window pane (Falling upon a crucifix anchored above a cradle Or some ancient, gilded frame Containing a photo of some grandparent's wedding day, Exploding into full undifferentiated diffusion) May possess a dram of warmth, albeit resigned, nostalgic A bittersweet reminder of what has gone by (And in the shade, the air is filled With the portentous chill of what lies a few months hence) But there nonetheless as he tends to those final farewells From the trees bowing to December's inevitability, The droppings not the Pollock-esque bursts of October (Those having been collected and consigned To the normal corner of the back lot) But dreary brown-hued things, not welcomed by eye nor heart, Simply corralled perfunctorily and dismissed. One could contend that such activity is unnecessary, The mere vanity of all endeavor, As the snow will come soon, and steady as well, Performing the seasonal, cyclical function in its own time, But he soldiers on nonetheless, a unseen one-act nearly-farce, Painstakingly raking and bending and scraping To leave his patch of green uncovered for a little while Until the locking time comes to seal the earth's secrets once more, To be revealed to those Who shall receive the teasing ministrations Of the fickle, fitful March equinox.
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32
Dear Unity,  be proud of the work you've done. Working day and night, leaving complaints to none. With your calm blue aura, full of peace. People from sadness and separation, you release. Dear Unity, extending the branches of your unifying tree, Watching over like a flock of birds flying free. Amalgamate the opposing forces of destruction and war, Spare them from the unnecessary deaths and gore. Dear Unity, reunite us with our long lost friends, So there will be happiness and laughter as broken hearts mend. Clear the miserable loneliness haunting around, And stop at no cost until the cure is found. Dear Unity, oh unity, our guardian angel in disguise, Getting rid of the hatred, betrayal and the emotion; despise. Dear Unity, you are all for one and one for all, Thank you for being there every time we fall.
0
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Dear Unity
Last night I had a dream that you died. Everyone we knew came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s, and left, filtering out the front door slowly like sand through a sideways sifter, leaving behind pieces, words and memories and casseroles I could not taste. And the whole time everyone was here, you were here, too. I could hear you, smell you, feel you. I could feel you surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket I once had and could never leave at home. I loved you here and here you would stay, with me, and now you would never leave. I could keep you. You were bound to me. But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving. You could not go with me and you accidentally and without words by holding, enveloping, suffocating you told me that you did not want me to ever leave again. So I stopped. I stopped leaving. And the calls stopped, too. The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town. All unnecessary noise. The people left. And then it was just you and me. Until one day I saw what you had done. Tripping I glanced in the mirror and saw. You had etched yourself into my face. Dug with your nails terrifying ravines escaping the corners of my eyes. Pulled down my mouth and every shallow natural valley turned to deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting. My eyes no longer held light. I saw this, all evidence against you, and I still loved you. You had hurt me in ways you never had while you were here – here – and I knew. And I still loved you. Slinking up the stairs I called you to me. I felt you surround faster than before and closer, tighter, colder. Suffocating, stifling and so destructive in how you loved me. Slowly but faster I grew to know I would not become you and you would not become me. We were stuck on other sides of the mirror. I was so angry at what you had allowed me made me begged me to become. Realizing I gasped and put hand to heart it hurt so. I stood upright how long have I been bent took in one long deep breath of stuffy air how long since I opened the windows and called you to me when have I last heard a voice not my own called you to listen. I felt the loss of everything else friends family adventure excitement. Nothing was left of that here and I was so angry and I am so sorry and I yelled       I screamed       I roared why are you still here why are you making me like you why did you come here and hold me and keep me here with you I am not the one who is dead and I said and I regret and I am so sorry I can’t have you here go away and leave me alone and you did. You left me all alone. Why would you leave me?
0
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Leaving
Last night I had a dream that you died. Everyone we knew came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s, and left, filtering out the front door slowly like sand through a sideways sifter, leaving behind pieces, words and memories and casseroles I could not taste. And the whole time everyone was here, you were here, too. I could hear you, smell you, feel you. I could feel you surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket I once had and could never leave at home. I loved you here and here you would stay, with me, and now you would never leave. I could keep you. You were bound to me. But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving. You could not go with me and you accidentally and without words by holding, enveloping, suffocating you told me that you did not want me to ever leave again. So I stopped. I stopped leaving. And the calls stopped, too. The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town. All unnecessary noise. The people left. And then it was just you and me. Until one day I saw what you had done. Tripping I glanced in the mirror and saw. You had etched yourself into my face. Dug with your nails terrifying ravines escaping the corners of my eyes. Pulled down my mouth and every shallow natural valley turned to deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting. My eyes no longer held light. I saw this, all evidence against you, and I still loved you. You had hurt me in ways you never had while you were here – here – and I knew. And I still loved you. Slinking up the stairs I called you to me. I felt you surround faster than before and closer, tighter, colder. Suffocating, stifling and so destructive in how you loved me. Slowly but faster I grew to know I would not become you and you would not become me. We were stuck on other sides of the mirror. I was so angry at what you had allowed me made me begged me to become. Realizing I gasped and put hand to heart it hurt so. I stood upright how long have I been bent took in one long deep breath of stuffy air how long since I opened the windows and called you to me when have I last heard a voice not my own called you to listen. I felt the loss of everything else friends family adventure excitement. Nothing was left of that here and I was so angry and I am so sorry and I yelled       I screamed       I roared why are you still here why are you making me like you why did you come here and hold me and keep me here with you I am not the one who is dead and I said and I regret and I am so sorry I can’t have you here go away and leave me alone and you did. You left me all alone. Why would you leave me?
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113
Your moth light is supposed to sustain me. I am told to discredit my sun, its fuel unnecessary, yours enough. What do shadows live on, this light? I am the keeper of your caterpillar dreams.
0
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC
Your moth light
By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#
0
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
BURIED
By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#
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46
[Official Part-1] this  world  can  be  dangerous  bleak,  wild  and  careless  you're  living  without  knowing  how  many  days  you'll  ride  every  day  you  face  with the  problems  you  think they  are  bigger  than  'you' but  they  are  smaller  than the  whole  universe mini  world,  bright  sky time  is  gold;  it  will  fly no  one  is  getting  it  no  one  is  feeling  it  what's  in  your  veins  what  lead  you  to  the  chains  seem  every  little  is  in  a  mess  like  every  human  is  in  stress  walking  on  the  sharpest  bridge  thinking  I'm  ready  to  stop  maybe  I  can  lay  here  and  flop  on  to  the  cold  concrete  ground  am  I  ready  to  beat  this  round,  what's  next  or  what's  behind  how  hard  it  is  to  feel  kind  when  it's  all  making  you  blind  and  here's  where  you  can show  your  difference by  being  kind noise  trauma,  unnecessary  drama  everyone  wants  to  be  an  alpha  race  of  fame  and  goals  to  gain  end  of  nature  and  crazy  bane  after  this,  I'll  never  be  the  same  relationships  have  a  journey  which  starts,  goes  and  ends  I  found  One  has  no  'end' GOD  IS  MY  BEST  FRIEND.  ☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩ @lightinthedarknesspoetry
0
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
GOD IS MY BEST-FRIEND
[Official Part-1] this  world  can  be  dangerous  bleak,  wild  and  careless  you're  living  without  knowing  how  many  days  you'll  ride  every  day  you  face  with the  problems  you  think they  are  bigger  than  'you' but  they  are  smaller  than the  whole  universe mini  world,  bright  sky time  is  gold;  it  will  fly no  one  is  getting  it  no  one  is  feeling  it  what's  in  your  veins  what  lead  you  to  the  chains  seem  every  little  is  in  a  mess  like  every  human  is  in  stress  walking  on  the  sharpest  bridge  thinking  I'm  ready  to  stop  maybe  I  can  lay  here  and  flop  on  to  the  cold  concrete  ground  am  I  ready  to  beat  this  round,  what's  next  or  what's  behind  how  hard  it  is  to  feel  kind  when  it's  all  making  you  blind  and  here's  where  you  can show  your  difference by  being  kind noise  trauma,  unnecessary  drama  everyone  wants  to  be  an  alpha  race  of  fame  and  goals  to  gain  end  of  nature  and  crazy  bane  after  this,  I'll  never  be  the  same  relationships  have  a  journey  which  starts,  goes  and  ends  I  found  One  has  no  'end' GOD  IS  MY  BEST  FRIEND.  ☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩ @lightinthedarknesspoetry
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40
The pavement having a merchandise name Merchandising sales being the aim Markdowns throughout any retail store The array of assortments a consumer just can’t ignore Yet watch how the consumer spends their money The consumer will be broke, but certainly not the only Plastic credit cards that could get you into trouble This could cause your interest rates to double But I one should only buy what they actually need However unnecessary things with no need to proceed Retail prices coming from a Buyer’s advice Watch the price and shopping being wise Fashion designers with a eye for your appeal and style All through the theory the consumer is thinking during while Well retail stores have much they want the consumer to explore But with prices slashed here and over there, the consumer becomes not being sure Perhaps having will power is something no one should ignore Money saved with nothing being spent No question needing to be asked as to where your money went.
0
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
THE RETAIL CONSUMER AFFAIR
Sometimes I hate this This thing that I'm born with It causes so many unnecessary fights It causes so many stupid problems I can't go to a regular school I can't have a regular job The moment I say the word autism I've already had enough I don't know what the positive sides are Of something that makes me so different I only know the negative parts Because that's the part that makes me conflicted Why would I love something that has ruined my chance for a normal life? How could I accept something that refuses my acceptance? All they tell me is you need help you need help, you need help, you need help And I get help The people who help have helped But even though I can function better No one can take away this internal anger I feel inadequate, I feel dumb I feel sad, I feel numb I can't speak of my emotions although I got feelings all the time I wish there was a potion that made it possible for me to speak about it in an other way than rhyme I wish I could say what was really on my mind I wish I could say how my autism makes me want to die I wish I could say I love myself in any shape or form I wish I could say that I can conform to the norm But I can't so I play league And then I get mad When they say "autistic screech" Because it's so hilarious Living with this everyday Because it's so hilarious That this will never ******* change
0
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
Autism
I'm sorry Mom, for the times I complained, And for all the unnecessary tears, I'm sorry Mom, for all the times I yelled, And for all those wasted years. I'm sorry Mom, for my stubborn behavior, And for the times I ran away, From all of the problems, I didn't feel like facing Forgive me, Mom, for I was lead astray. I'm sorry Mom, please show me the door, I think it's time I leave. I need to find my own way of life, and stop destroying yours.
0
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
I'm sorry, Mom
Acts of love save. They save from evil from envy from suffering from disturbing memories. Only acts of love save. From the nightmarish and stagnant life. From anxieties from unnecessary tears. Acts of love save. From words that hurts from the fiend of insomnia. From self-flagellation. From monotony and emptiness. Only love saves you from sadness lagoon from yourself.
0
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Monologue
Your first word was "Watermelon" It's funny because I'm black.
0
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Unnecessary Symbolism (10w)
Hands delve deep in damp shadows Even in slumber you drive my body insane My body remembers you well It's kept all memories of you so clear in it's senses It misses you so dearly I do miss you too, clearly All this wetness is unnecessary And this need for you, and only you, to myself is oh so scary You whisper it's me you want to marry... I woke up out the dream Wondering what was wrong with me I was warm and full of need All I could think about is how much I wanted him to come pamper me
0
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Fingers
Where are you today? My mind needs to know In what space you're existing Who you may be meeting Are you thinking of her? Time to run through Every single possible Unpleasant scenario It doesn't even matter While you never think of me My mind can't comprehend Regardless of reality Here comes the anger Unnecessary, destructive Solving absolutely nothing And it comes just the same I try to escape in sleep But, wait, here you are And here comes the pain And you smile just the same. I never asked for this I never asked for you to Waltz into my mind and Never ever leave.
0
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Obsession
Bonjour, hello to this French revolution, where people fought against the corrupted monarchy and created a new constitution. Hunger, no rights and no respect, they could not seem to solve it peacefully, so they cut off Louis the XVI neck. Marie Antoinette was a heartless greedy ***** she stole the people's food, so now she deserves some punishment, this is a historical moment for these people which they would soon cement. They started the Reign of Terror, which some may say was a costly and unnecessary error. Millions of people were killed and most were wrongly accused, their used to be equality, liberty, and fraternity, but all people saw was death, which is something not to be amused. The French Revolution where the third class fought the monarchy, so everyone could have true equality, liberty, and fraternity. Then came a guy named Napoléon who changed their wicked ways, he founded new ideas which created the future you see today. I know he wasn't exactly the best, he crowned himself the emperor, which no one had a say on, he pretended to respect the church and have meritocracy but really he was just a con, deceiving people as if they were just a couple of pawns. Napoléon is a wimp, he cost millions of lives, he also abandoned his armies multiple times, he may be one of the, greatest strategist's in the world, but really he's just a waste of time. Napoléon should have figured out not to attack Russia at winter time, it never worked out before so why would it work this time. He may be a symbol of France and the greatest self proclaimed emperor, but he died because of his pride just like Maximillian Robespierre. That was the end of the French Revolution, they slowly lost their power but they still hold onto their republican constitution. So aurevoir for now, bon voyage to you grande revolution, till your next controversial decisions and solutions.
0
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
The French Revolution rap
Bonjour, hello to this French revolution, where people fought against the corrupted monarchy and created a new constitution. Hunger, no rights and no respect, they could not seem to solve it peacefully, so they cut off Louis the XVI neck. Marie Antoinette was a heartless greedy ***** she stole the people's food, so now she deserves some punishment, this is a historical moment for these people which they would soon cement. They started the Reign of Terror, which some may say was a costly and unnecessary error. Millions of people were killed and most were wrongly accused, their used to be equality, liberty, and fraternity, but all people saw was death, which is something not to be amused. The French Revolution where the third class fought the monarchy, so everyone could have true equality, liberty, and fraternity. Then came a guy named Napoléon who changed their wicked ways, he founded new ideas which created the future you see today. I know he wasn't exactly the best, he crowned himself the emperor, which no one had a say on, he pretended to respect the church and have meritocracy but really he was just a con, deceiving people as if they were just a couple of pawns. Napoléon is a wimp, he cost millions of lives, he also abandoned his armies multiple times, he may be one of the, greatest strategist's in the world, but really he's just a waste of time. Napoléon should have figured out not to attack Russia at winter time, it never worked out before so why would it work this time. He may be a symbol of France and the greatest self proclaimed emperor, but he died because of his pride just like Maximillian Robespierre. That was the end of the French Revolution, they slowly lost their power but they still hold onto their republican constitution. So aurevoir for now, bon voyage to you grande revolution, till your next controversial decisions and solutions.
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1
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
0
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
In all my iterations, and my frequent reiterations, Introspection reflection, run a muck, I find it unnecessary To talk to God; the reason being quite simple, is It and I are in constant dialogue, nary a pause, chattering Round the clock, 24 seven, night and day, sleep interruptus, I think to myself  God has some nerve, why can't he bother others? in other parts of the world… And so he does! Visitors from far away lands, and languages I do not understand, but applaud their attempts to decipher the English one, that we share in common; if the lands are exotic, the names are more delightfully so, almost ****** It excites and titillates, to greet these kindred souls whose words be greeted by puzzlement, intrigue, like the delight of rediscovering vanilla, it's the same language spoken differently! and god smiles and says: "knew you would eventually speak my soul language!'"
0
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
Visitors from far away lands/I never talk to God
*Get me to be a soul liberated from every attachment it could be. I want to want nothing from anywhere not want to get tempted by things unnecessary get myself bound to what will be my downfall The soul needs nothing it is to be free but my own flaws have made it not so that it could go as it pleases What is that one really needs with no one else be depleted all the seed, sign of lives but with greed everything dies Devoid of true knowledge what is I seek I see myself so very weak my vision so blinded my eyes itself closes that I cannot see the lies will bite the anger will burn my own journey with karma it will come back on me I wait as I expect them coming to me My sins who will wash for me? my thoughts why they never sided me they followed the down path got me to fuss on things over all the nothings never mattered to me the body detoriates every day, every second passes My mind forget what it remembers I speak no tales, but riddles what sense I try to formulate This time who will be the one to get it to decode the mysteries the real truths which could liberate but to think deeper what really is the answer lies very deep within much closer than who you are actually really.*
0
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
Unliberated soul
Habits Gluttony Greed Bribery Lustfulness Passed down Generation After generation After generation After generation Okay, I get it, it get it You get it, you get it. Let's get personal Born set up for failure My statistics not looking bright First baby born of color born into A family of strictly whites Grandmother beat my mother When she discovered The life forming inside of her Was half black - Don't cry mother, or I'll whither Inside of you. I grew and grew Taught lies upon lies About myself The other half of me. The only love I knew was of my mother. There was no other - Until she started to take it out on me Habits Passed From generation upon generation. She was sick and tired of being Sick and tired Stomped to the ground due to her Kindness Abused emotionally due to her Selfless-ness Mistreated physically due to her Weakness She took it out on me. Cornered me to a wall Choked me up Laughing - she couldn't get enough Of the amusement of my pain All done in vain Because she couldn't stop the strain Put on her brain. Scarring my face Pulling my hair Public places Not a care - Kicking Scratching Pulling Biting The agony The hate The battle wounds The hurt The scars - On my heart. Habits Passed from generation To generation To generation I was sick on the inside My heart - suffering - never ending bleeding My brain Psychologically ill Flashbacks I locked myself up in my room Head in pillow Screaming louder than your annoying baby sister who throws her unnecessary temper tantrums In the middle of the night. I tied myself up mentally Stuck Self-hate Self-abuse Self-hurt In the sixth grade I to myself - I wanted going to **** And my victim was myself. Filled with the poison - I was ill Injected with self-hate Hated my family Hated all my traits Hated all forms of humanity. Habits Passed From generation to generation To generation.
0
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
Poisonous Habits
Habits Gluttony Greed Bribery Lustfulness Passed down Generation After generation After generation After generation Okay, I get it, it get it You get it, you get it. Let's get personal Born set up for failure My statistics not looking bright First baby born of color born into A family of strictly whites Grandmother beat my mother When she discovered The life forming inside of her Was half black - Don't cry mother, or I'll whither Inside of you. I grew and grew Taught lies upon lies About myself The other half of me. The only love I knew was of my mother. There was no other - Until she started to take it out on me Habits Passed From generation upon generation. She was sick and tired of being Sick and tired Stomped to the ground due to her Kindness Abused emotionally due to her Selfless-ness Mistreated physically due to her Weakness She took it out on me. Cornered me to a wall Choked me up Laughing - she couldn't get enough Of the amusement of my pain All done in vain Because she couldn't stop the strain Put on her brain. Scarring my face Pulling my hair Public places Not a care - Kicking Scratching Pulling Biting The agony The hate The battle wounds The hurt The scars - On my heart. Habits Passed from generation To generation To generation I was sick on the inside My heart - suffering - never ending bleeding My brain Psychologically ill Flashbacks I locked myself up in my room Head in pillow Screaming louder than your annoying baby sister who throws her unnecessary temper tantrums In the middle of the night. I tied myself up mentally Stuck Self-hate Self-abuse Self-hurt In the sixth grade I to myself - I wanted going to **** And my victim was myself. Filled with the poison - I was ill Injected with self-hate Hated my family Hated all my traits Hated all forms of humanity. Habits Passed From generation to generation To generation.
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94
S*ome pray to not feel guilty because they know they've made someone unhappy not intentionally, no but for our pleasure, maybe Right, wrong, don't follow it escapes our mind till its too late that it becomes unnecessary to just say sorry*.
0
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 5:31 AM UTC
so say sorry
Is burrowing a web weaving a collection, accumulating an anthology For a far gone day Stash them away set them aside with a what, when, why rather than right now ambitious zeal discoverable. findability. Its the nature of the undertaking. My minds an unavoidable reciprocal Gratified by wasting time, It’s just there filling space Tucked away for a rainy day In every nook and cranny Tickling the fancy. Affording a kind of intellectual gusto that's borderline deplorable accumulatively downright trifling. Nonetheless, even if it's unnecessary I'll never get my fill paper to hand typing away uncovering all of life's mysteries
0
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
This Nervous Squirrel
And now... I have come to realize how truly strong a person you are. Stronger than anyone I have ever met. To keep a secret like that, and never tell without crumbling. And now... I have come to realize what a selfish, self-centered ***** I really am to be so caught up in my own dumb mind with my own worthless problems that are NOTHING compared to what you withheld. I won't dwell too long on what an awful unsupportive friend and person I have been because that would once again be drawing attention back to me the selfish way I have been doing, but I feel like I have to say it at least once: I am so. so. incredibly. sorry. I never noticed or asked how you were or saw that something was wrong. I'm so so sorry I wallowed in that pathetic self-pity for so long just over my stupid issues that are so miniscule compared to yours, I basically want to whack myself in the head with my guitar I'm so ****** at myself. I am SO SORRY I wasn't there and I'm SO SO SO SORRY I surrounded you with my own dumb unnecessary negativity when you had enough of your own. I'm so sorry. I cried for nearly an hour last night out of anger with myself for not being a good friend and out of sorrow for your troubles and the pain you must be going through. You can almost always tell when I am upset somehow but that is like your odd supernatural inexplicable talent and I don’t have it. I wish I did, but I can tell when someone likes another person somehow almost always accurately but what use is that? I’m just so sorry from the bottom of my heart and I promise that beginning NOW and today I swear I am going to be here for you. I am so sorry for not being there. Okay, I’m going to stop going on about it now. And now… I can see everything I didn’t pick up on when I needed to so clearly. And now… I just want you to be okay. I JUST want you not to be in pain. I don’t know how to fix you but I’ll do anything I can to try. And now… I want you to know how brave you are, to go at it alone. And now… I want you to know, two years ago, we agreed “No Secrets”. Well, since then we have kept multiple secrets from one another. All of us. Since then that agreement has become less and less realistic. There will always be secrets and that is just a part of life.  I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner and I just want you to know that I am always prepared to drop literally everything of mine, physical, mental, and emotional to listen to you and care more about your problems than mine because yours are always and have always been far greater than any of my pitiful woes. I will always understand why you keep things from me, but when you choose to share it, in your own time, then I will always be there to listen and understand. And now… I will never abandon you in this. -Love Ember
0
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
To the strongest person I know
And now... I have come to realize how truly strong a person you are. Stronger than anyone I have ever met. To keep a secret like that, and never tell without crumbling. And now... I have come to realize what a selfish, self-centered ***** I really am to be so caught up in my own dumb mind with my own worthless problems that are NOTHING compared to what you withheld. I won't dwell too long on what an awful unsupportive friend and person I have been because that would once again be drawing attention back to me the selfish way I have been doing, but I feel like I have to say it at least once: I am so. so. incredibly. sorry. I never noticed or asked how you were or saw that something was wrong. I'm so so sorry I wallowed in that pathetic self-pity for so long just over my stupid issues that are so miniscule compared to yours, I basically want to whack myself in the head with my guitar I'm so ****** at myself. I am SO SORRY I wasn't there and I'm SO SO SO SORRY I surrounded you with my own dumb unnecessary negativity when you had enough of your own. I'm so sorry. I cried for nearly an hour last night out of anger with myself for not being a good friend and out of sorrow for your troubles and the pain you must be going through. You can almost always tell when I am upset somehow but that is like your odd supernatural inexplicable talent and I don’t have it. I wish I did, but I can tell when someone likes another person somehow almost always accurately but what use is that? I’m just so sorry from the bottom of my heart and I promise that beginning NOW and today I swear I am going to be here for you. I am so sorry for not being there. Okay, I’m going to stop going on about it now. And now… I can see everything I didn’t pick up on when I needed to so clearly. And now… I just want you to be okay. I JUST want you not to be in pain. I don’t know how to fix you but I’ll do anything I can to try. And now… I want you to know how brave you are, to go at it alone. And now… I want you to know, two years ago, we agreed “No Secrets”. Well, since then we have kept multiple secrets from one another. All of us. Since then that agreement has become less and less realistic. There will always be secrets and that is just a part of life.  I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner and I just want you to know that I am always prepared to drop literally everything of mine, physical, mental, and emotional to listen to you and care more about your problems than mine because yours are always and have always been far greater than any of my pitiful woes. I will always understand why you keep things from me, but when you choose to share it, in your own time, then I will always be there to listen and understand. And now… I will never abandon you in this. -Love Ember
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15
My neighbor Steals my morning newspaper Off my doorstep every day For years And now, he moved on Maybe to another city Maybe he's dead As for Me, I was left here With unnecessary newspapers And no one to focus My burning hate on
0
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
My Neighbor
This world has me in transitions From good to bad But deep in my roots I'll always be good This image is just a shield Protecting me from unnecessary pain You say you know who I am You say you're reading me Yet you haven't opened a page My hardcover may be misleading But what it contains Is nothing but a blank Undecided in a society of pressure With no identity I roam free Of becoming anything I want to be
0
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
Estranged
living can be tiring and decisions regretful, so often we find ourselves marching to the beat of obligations’ drummer – unnecessary paths are safely untreaded doing only because the doing is necessary – to keep life at its homeostasis fixing but not tinkering – the return to normality is the goal just accepting these ************ days for their lukewarm livability
0
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 11:22 PM UTC
these ************ days