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"unorderly" poems
I'm swimming through my mess of Past and current afflictions A sea of devils and unorderly behavior Chaos and whiskey and ominous eyes I swim towards a better place A better man, a better view A view of silence and peace And a soft woman to wash me after I hunt the wild red deer in the night And we mate wilder than The night and the sun and the moon And the stars and ocean above
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Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 2:56 PM UTC
Red Deer
'The biggest problem with communication is that we don’t listen to understand, we listen to respond.' You trace my bottomless eyes to the pit of my stomach You stare at the tip of my tongue, With that sordid tang on it; Reassure me now, I am not the cause of it. Taste, but not too late The stuff of which I am made. Never think I would clean the bottom Piety of your sink Would you hear me? Muffled in a crowd? Where my delusions Of your confusions Are shrouded I smell repugnance And make nothing of it O the fancies of tongues Bowed, I make nothing of it In the crowd I hear your sound I make nothing of it My rejoinder blaring loud You make nothing of it The boil of the grey water Murky glasses unclean - Silent unorderly I make a run for it.
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Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Problem With Communication
~ I fell for you like a waterfall in springtime. Tumbling down an edge at your cliffside. We are a force nature simply can't deny. You accepted my siltation; an unorderly invitation to a desperate situation we could never leave behind. You cried down from blue skies- silver-lined tears of denial. You fed this empty vessel in the heat of June-July. **When those stars shine right into my eyes, I'll reflect their light in the creases of a tide**. I fell for you like a rapid- gushing parallel to the road. Love will never accept defeat;   *We're certainly a force with which seasons can't compete.*
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Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
Rapid love
Sometimes silence is the loudest noise For when I close my eyes sad things creep inside got me thinking bout my teenage Life Call me what u like an ignorant infidel time to tell the real truth yous speak about me but do you know what you do Living life a lie tears hidden behind your eyes I see straight threw you and what you claim to be only portray you more of a Fake to me Spittin nothing but the Truth Silence is the loudest noise. Like a drop of a dime in an echo room. Silence the deep quietness of reality when words are not heard due to their unorderly formality This life will speed by I remember getting high was who could swing the fastest Good ole days when Tears fell from my cheeks bcuz Best friends told jokes that were just 2 funny. Sometimes silence is the loudest noise
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Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
Silence
Order is too much for me I prefer to live unorderly I don't like to be predictable But inevitably I'm predicted Living constricted leaves you So limited and I can't handle limits They say I need an organized Person to straighten me out Some say I need to be put in my place People call me a mess But I think I'm a test A test run in process just let that process Don't assume work it out I work so hard to understand because Mentally I'm slow I'll forget you if I don't Make an effort to know Just let it go Let it go is what they say But first let me look at it In every other way Before it slips my mind Let me study it Let me inspect it Because I will forget it If I don't interrogate it I want to remember you I want to understand you I want to know you and what you Yourself stand for Because your disorderly In a way like me Just smarter You think logically I try to rationalize who you might be Because no matter how I deny it In a way I'll admit I like you
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Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
Orderly
A young girl climbs the rickety ladder for what seemed like the hundredth time eager to enter the castaway world tucked silently above. The taut metal springs strumming loudly with every step she takes. The cool air below giving way to a still and searing heat and she wonders how long she’ll be able to stand it this time. In the darkness, the smell of hard pine fills her senses. Her hand expertly finds the flimsy string to the single unadorned bulb. The light casts brightly around her fading deeply into the far corners she dare not go. She looks around quickly as if to see something that shouldn’t be there. Her breath releases. No, she is alone. Nothing’s changed since the last time she visited here. Forgotten clothes old books with lost words and memories of times passed unorderly scattered across the splintered floorboards. She knows the contents of every torn and abandoned bag every unmarked box and where every nail reaches out to claim its thread of the cobweb. Her eyes now adjusting to the disseminating light she feels the heat beginning its test on her quickly dampening skin. The green floral dress hung lazily out of its bag the one she has come to know by touch alone. Envisioning how it took her mother’s shape, she lifts the precious memory from its resting place holding it up to her own small form. Tears well sliding down her flushed cheeks and as if a mirror stood before her she sways, enveloped in the warm recollections of the life that no longer filled the dress. It is here where she feels it most. It is here where the unspoken conversation can continue. It is here where she can dance with Love. She returns the dress back to the timeless world feeling lighter and heavier than ever before. With sweat now flowing freely from her pores she surrenders to the sweet oppressiveness of this place. She pulls the light string once more, blanketing the weighted treasures in blackness. again, alone with the dark. She will always come back to this ascended place offering each step every breath and all her tears. For it is here where she feels it most. It is here where the unspoken conversation can be had. It is here where she can dance with Love.
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Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC
Love's Attic
A young girl climbs the rickety ladder for what seemed like the hundredth time eager to enter the castaway world tucked silently above. The taut metal springs strumming loudly with every step she takes. The cool air below giving way to a still and searing heat and she wonders how long she’ll be able to stand it this time. In the darkness, the smell of hard pine fills her senses. Her hand expertly finds the flimsy string to the single unadorned bulb. The light casts brightly around her fading deeply into the far corners she dare not go. She looks around quickly as if to see something that shouldn’t be there. Her breath releases. No, she is alone. Nothing’s changed since the last time she visited here. Forgotten clothes old books with lost words and memories of times passed unorderly scattered across the splintered floorboards. She knows the contents of every torn and abandoned bag every unmarked box and where every nail reaches out to claim its thread of the cobweb. Her eyes now adjusting to the disseminating light she feels the heat beginning its test on her quickly dampening skin. The green floral dress hung lazily out of its bag the one she has come to know by touch alone. Envisioning how it took her mother’s shape, she lifts the precious memory from its resting place holding it up to her own small form. Tears well sliding down her flushed cheeks and as if a mirror stood before her she sways, enveloped in the warm recollections of the life that no longer filled the dress. It is here where she feels it most. It is here where the unspoken conversation can continue. It is here where she can dance with Love. She returns the dress back to the timeless world feeling lighter and heavier than ever before. With sweat now flowing freely from her pores she surrenders to the sweet oppressiveness of this place. She pulls the light string once more, blanketing the weighted treasures in blackness. again, alone with the dark. She will always come back to this ascended place offering each step every breath and all her tears. For it is here where she feels it most. It is here where the unspoken conversation can be had. It is here where she can dance with Love.
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