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"unrelinquished" poems
I can't believe this is happening to me Oh, thank you God for blessing me. I know your bringing something into my life Something that will make everything alright. My soul expanded and spirit so blessed If I could, I would do it again. You've taught me things I never knew Oh God, what would I do without you? Eternally blessed, and surrounded by your love My heart and soul will forever be above.
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Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
Unrelinquished Faith
*The wanderers lips chapped thirsty peeled and parched in deserts inhuman of love bereft,sought hard but unfound! a search on legs last,romance unfazed, for that mirage shimmering hazily afar of her eyes, face and lips softly smiling. so dear once,long abandoned in betrayal. a heartfull of love unrelinquished still, throbbing unforgotten in existence skeletal pausing for breaths last, a hoping soul numb, now sighting that luscious red neon cherry the glossy round O of Marylin the pretty a wan smile just, of a small solace strange lit up on a face entreating so desperate. paving happily the deaths way at last blown in the wind final,an abstract kiss.*
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Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 4:42 AM UTC
A Lovers Kiss Abstract. ( That Death Romantic!)
Breathtaker unknowingly herself to be capable of splitting atoms           [of unrelinquished hearts] of striking chords           [of graveyard whispers] of swimming endlessly           [of setting suns] Breathtaker veiledly herself in imitation smiles           [in huntress stripes] in doe-eyed brilliance           [in one thousand yards] in cocktail laughter           [in autumnal sighs] Breathtaker suffocating us all
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Gasping
Some parents try to control their children, There's nothing wrong with controlling them, No, there's nothing wrong with it, they think, And they keep on doing it and dictating them. As they find nothing wrong with it, they do it. They satisfy the unrelinquished egos of their own, Suffocating the children even after they grow up.
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May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 8:02 AM UTC
The Floccinaucinihilipilification Of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
To the stars, a wish I make, A sweet and hoped not bitter lie. Aloud to no one else I take, Aloud alone by night I cry. Forevers strong unrelinquished love - As sweet as a sleeping rose, With all the care of a gentle dove, My heart to you I must empose, To lie with you is now a dream but sweet, Just so far as a cold mountain peak. My mind and heart intensely beat, Alas the thought of you I seek. Along fair love, I dream of you soon, After the death of the unrelenting moon.
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Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 7:51 PM UTC
A Lovers Dream
Alone in the Empty night. The tears flow down slowly at first, Resolving into a waterfall. Uncontrollable fears, icy cold current, Dragging down to Unrelinquished pressure. Sopping wet boots, Suctioned to numb toes and feet, A weight that won't let go. Reaching up... But there's no purchase on the Slime filmed rocks. Tortured... Drowned.
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Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
Drowned
Imagery friends that were surrounded in my childhood, many of my friends had one or two I had five. I asked them when we grew from seed to leaf where are they now? Are they only in your dreams, did you bury then beneath the ground. Some cried others not understanding what I meant, but my imaginary friends they were still here they had buried some of those that friends had wondered where they had gone. No longer in conciseness more like decaying thoughts. I saw my friend she had an object in her hand, giggling she looked down it wasn't within her grasp but mine. "You are the one, and as I looked and saw the affection of reality in a pulp of unrelinquished resentment. You are ours not those of other moments. They became what once was games now I saw them tease upon my existence, my moments were a mirage of pain. I walked down the street, and an old lady was waiting tirelessly for a bus till he smeared his being on her and pushed. The poor driver of that bus never stopping again. They played me, dancing around my sanity like I was the rose and they were song repeating within my mind. These were my bad seed of my imagination. If you think those of thought are real, in time substance becomes reality only in the essence that you can see. I used to find them funny, I used to even in later years still talk to them. But now my seeds have grown and the petals they grow are not of this world. Have you ever thought your falling? well its those friends that need attention in your blind sight. "Wake up little one its time to play, which one is my friend today,
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Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
The Bad Seeds Of My Imagination
Imagery friends that were surrounded in my childhood, many of my friends had one or two I had five. I asked them when we grew from seed to leaf where are they now? Are they only in your dreams, did you bury then beneath the ground. Some cried others not understanding what I meant, but my imaginary friends they were still here they had buried some of those that friends had wondered where they had gone. No longer in conciseness more like decaying thoughts. I saw my friend she had an object in her hand, giggling she looked down it wasn't within her grasp but mine. "You are the one, and as I looked and saw the affection of reality in a pulp of unrelinquished resentment. You are ours not those of other moments. They became what once was games now I saw them tease upon my existence, my moments were a mirage of pain. I walked down the street, and an old lady was waiting tirelessly for a bus till he smeared his being on her and pushed. The poor driver of that bus never stopping again. They played me, dancing around my sanity like I was the rose and they were song repeating within my mind. These were my bad seed of my imagination. If you think those of thought are real, in time substance becomes reality only in the essence that you can see. I used to find them funny, I used to even in later years still talk to them. But now my seeds have grown and the petals they grow are not of this world. Have you ever thought your falling? well its those friends that need attention in your blind sight. "Wake up little one its time to play, which one is my friend today,
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31
Wondering if now is the time to say goodbye To give up the hope that once filled my soul To crush the dreams that at the time Could have filled a sky... Unrequited, Unrelinquished, Unfit, Tell me why the summer comes so slow But the winter, it is long Why the rush of spring, why the burst of energy? Because the cold feels like an eternity Take me back to the days of spring Of birth and feelings of new Of energy and vitality Life. I no longer want to feel like, i’m, falling -Falling, into the pits of winter To the darkness the gloomy; To the unrequited the unrelinquished; Among the bottles O there are so many bottles Each one filled with so much But they lay until spring returns To shatter them to pieces And to release their contents once again
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Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
unrequited, unrelinquished
We were play dates shutting down dive bars, biting off more than we could chew. The echoes of our laughter crescendoed over the sea of lonely patrons, a somber feeling that we unfortunately knew. Were we captivated by conversations or had it subconsciously been our eyes all along? Windows to the soul. Holding onto the agonies, that only we would ever truly know. Our rugged exteriors, so easily unraveled with subtlety. Eye contact, rarely, if ever, was it realized so indiscriminately. I intentionally drug my feet when we walked the frostbitten winter streets taking in music and whatever that feeling was, because, we were warned it’s not for us to keep, we’ll always lose it. I trailed behind you in a childlike protest, prolonging the inevitable, of cleaning up yet another self inflicted mess. Hands would wander down the alleyways, our bodies merely in tow, illuminating the darkness, to wrestle with our invisible foe. “You better go. Now. I’m beginning to like you.” Grasping, pulling, unwavering grip. “It’s the way you’d bite my lower lip and push your hips against my hips” as you breathed your afflictions into me, daring me to come home. All too familiar was the suffering that pulsed throughout my veins, displaced residuals of ecstasy, solitude, unrelinquished pain. What happened to the time? We tiptoed through a hazy slew of a hundred halfhearted goodbyes. I always turned back around to steal another glimpse though.   I thought you knew why. I thought you knew why, I thought you knew, I thought…
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Jan 12, 2024
Jan 12, 2024 at 11:32 AM UTC
A Menagerie of Madness in a Mercury Retrograde
We were play dates shutting down dive bars, biting off more than we could chew. The echoes of our laughter crescendoed over the sea of lonely patrons, a somber feeling that we unfortunately knew. Were we captivated by conversations or had it subconsciously been our eyes all along? Windows to the soul. Holding onto the agonies, that only we would ever truly know. Our rugged exteriors, so easily unraveled with subtlety. Eye contact, rarely, if ever, was it realized so indiscriminately. I intentionally drug my feet when we walked the frostbitten winter streets taking in music and whatever that feeling was, because, we were warned it’s not for us to keep, we’ll always lose it. I trailed behind you in a childlike protest, prolonging the inevitable, of cleaning up yet another self inflicted mess. Hands would wander down the alleyways, our bodies merely in tow, illuminating the darkness, to wrestle with our invisible foe. “You better go. Now. I’m beginning to like you.” Grasping, pulling, unwavering grip. “It’s the way you’d bite my lower lip and push your hips against my hips” as you breathed your afflictions into me, daring me to come home. All too familiar was the suffering that pulsed throughout my veins, displaced residuals of ecstasy, solitude, unrelinquished pain. What happened to the time? We tiptoed through a hazy slew of a hundred halfhearted goodbyes. I always turned back around to steal another glimpse though.   I thought you knew why. I thought you knew why, I thought you knew, I thought…
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51
The Hanged Man Too much noise, too much noise around me, Too many contradictions that creates confusion inside me. As the noose slips around the branch of this secular oak and rests upon my shoulders. I wonder how many lovers laid their passions at the roots of this lonly observer of unrelinquished desires. In a way he is my only companion in my pursuit of inner peace that no longer makes me a hermit of my own desires. For I fear that I shall be no more than a spec of dust in the light of the ever changing fate. For that I alone am responsible of this apocalypse of regrets. For I know that my noose will forever stay as a collar of remembrance. This will be the only step that I will never regret for not taking it. The shadows will have to wait for me, before I will embrace their calling.
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May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
A series of Encounters