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Ashanti Brown Aug 2013
An unsual face that hide secrets and lies
a description of a person that you ever
thought would be real.
A life that hides in a face a sad
story to tell with no love.A face
that has been broken never saw
the  day light been caught in such a dark
place an unsual face.
A change that never seems
to happen in a life full of hate
the face that close and never seem to open an unsual face.
Hello Daisies Oct 2018
Isn't it unusual
To read of love and joy
And cry tears of hurt and sorrow?

Isnt it unsual
For a happy feeling
To truly hurt and feel like it's borrowed?

Oh isn't it just a tad unsual
No matter how hard you try
To never fall in love with another?

I find it too normal
Until i see others
So close together when I'm never with a lover
Hi i start a new job tomorrow but i have so much anxiety over it so my thoughts are else where. I sometimes forget that falling in love or having crushes is normal to most. For me it isn't. Whenever i feel for someone else i am rejected and/or mocked as though i did something wrong. I never really feel like i fit in. I find it hard to watch happy romance movies they just make me feel sad. That's probably fine
Zaahr H Feb 2015
I know not how to fix this,
Nor do I know how you feel.
I know not what you think about me,
I know not if this is real.

I do not know if its self imagined,
That we have something unsual.
Between the emotion of love and doubt,
Some sort of intense confusion.

Sometimes when you look at me,
Your eyes say it all.
They say "stay, i want you here"
But when you look away,
I fall.

Maybe someday I'll know how to fix this,
Maybe I do already but im in denial,
It maybe once im in love with someone else,
But I fear that wont happen at all.
toBelieve Oct 2015
One night,
Alone, peacefully sitting home,
The door rings, I opened...
It was madness !
It was madness paying me a visit,
Humble and courteous as i am,
I invited her for a tea...
Five minute later,
She runs out,
She became crazy...
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
any reading of a philosophy book, outside of university, is mapped without the sort of strategy to receive a grade, for a "correct" interpretation (rather a regurgitation) of said work (mentioned below); to say it in simpler terms: i do not ever think that understanding a concept - in concreto - is worth some sort of "passing on the genes" (memes) of one individual to another - given that a meme has become pop culture, and as the french would put it:
        ce crasse et petit irritante chiotte valeur de merde
                                                                ­                        (i.e. un cliché) -
truly written like and englishman -
   a meme is that crass and small irritant bog's worth of ****
                                                            ­                                           ( " ),
   at least that's peckham french, del boy french,
                         i was well informed about this french dialect.

- and to even "think" why there are so many blue
indians, and so few piggies; perhaps it boils down
to the fact that the blue indians believe in
   burial within fire, rather than earth,
  and they prefer to surround themselves with the living,
rather than with the dead; and piggies do,
  graveyard upon graveyard,
    and that constant "nostalgia", idol-worship
of the past, where nothing greater can come again;
for those who surround themselves with the living,
their existence rages akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial... but for those who surround
themselves with the dead,
   their existences decompases akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial, a heart-broken: nightmarish
earth. -

for some reason, i always get these
"revelations" (for lack of a better word) -
as one might receive a signature
of a thunderstorm in the form of
lightning upon the sky -
           and it usually predicated by
listening to a few pop songs -
   and then listening to the
    *cantos of templar knights
-
            but then again, you sometimes
really need extremes,
     as the canadian sayings goes -
we only have two seasons,
    one's winter, the other is construction.

but this is about technicalities,
one could even cite the following as
the part of any contract, the terms & conditions
written in the smallest possible print,
   lodged in hardbacks worth over 30 quid -
not your cheap bestseller paperbacks -
   those too could be appreciated,
   but akin to pressure to keep a worth's of
expression in sanctum of a hardback?
   take the year 1996 for the cantos 1st
on toilet-paper (paperback) - but in brick?
take the year 1970...
  and where do the technicalities come in?

   - heidegger's ponderings V, aphorism 41 -
technicalities akin to the rules of
a game of cricket, or at least the pointing system.

but count it nonetheless, half an hour to scroll...
12,700+... till i got to april the 8th
  and resurrect a memory?

.  ע   ‎
יהוה ‎‎‎
א‎
                  sighs from on high...
      and laughter into the depths.


let us just say, that digital is
the new hardback edition -
    to condense my works into toilet-paper
till take more years and more pushy-pushy
tactics, to transform
     a hardback into something affordable...
but in reverse...
               what comical inversion,
   30 years will become 300 years to come
  about for someone to wipe-their-***-to-mouth
fathom of what went on at the genesis
of the birth of the internet,
   in some obscure location,
                  like a catholic school in england.

now the germanic pilot-plotline (regarding
aphorism 41, ponderings V):

    promo enigma-alchimia in vivo lingua,
             anti ipse (dixit) in lingua vitro.


(we're not in posh-boy grammar school,
the language is dead, it's become play-dough,
a malagrammaton-monœgo:
for a man's tongue is to his befitting desire
to state the terms of play).

da / ein-da / die-da          vs.                hier   vs.
                                      die-hier / ein-da


( there / a there / the there        vs.
                                                ­                 here    vs.
  the here / a there    -
                                
                               ­ atheistic scissors of
definite/indefinite articles/articulation of
    what's near, and what's far away,
     the dualistic-dichotomy of here&there,
  then&now...
           as far as i am concerned i cannot narrate
this akin to a vampire romance page-turner
bestseller... too many organic chemistry diagrams
concerning electron migration, sorry) -

   but given the "blank" slate genesis, starting
with articles... they go beyond being categorised
as definite or indefinite...
    namely... am i, or can i be assured that
      there's no X variations?
    i.e.
                da     ein da
                      X
       die hier     hier            ???????????????

               isn't ein hier merely "being"?
imagine being forced into a there -
                  without being the there,
akin to a zeitgeist, akin less!
      zeitgeist = a there (communism),
  but the there? that's what hegel
said of napoleon entering jena:
       "das ist ein weltgeist!" (capitalism).

and who are the anglophones?
  i cannot respect these "peoples" -
they constantly stutter when it comes to
  their lack of diacritical application,
they stutter... i might as well call them
the strabismus race...
    and if darwinism is to be the vector-catalyst
(hollywood was thrashing american cities
for decades, what damage could this
observation could possibly do?) -
  if darwinism is to be the prime historian,
that darwinism replaces actual history
and becomes neither in vitro, nor in vivo,
but in situ? why do scientists wonder why
universities are undermined in their
humanities, when scientific populism of
biology (i.e. darwinism) has undermined
papa historia? am i... missing something?!
     if you undermine a credible study within
the humanities with enough darwnism?
what do you get? inertia...
     you can burn crosses, but you can also
burn an image of a monkey into a man's mind,
the same result occurs!
      personally, i'd rather burn crosses,
i might end up drinking beer and joking with
a few skin-heads around an unsual campfire.

the other side just... "debates" loud-mouth
******* who haven't learned the gymnastics
of looking up those grandiose black-holes
of blah blah.... blah blah blah... blah...
     i'd like to ask them... does your **** of talk
ooze a perfume of.... strawberries?
   and the punk-fist fields... forever! ooh...
****** *******' salsa! shwing yir hips
ya bunch of conclaves (p.j.w.) - privacy
                     justice warriors).

        taoist's foregetfulness

grounded in maxim primus -
  to allow the world a breath, allow the world
to let you breathe as you deem fit,
   never too soon to be bound to genealogy,
esp. that of the genesis bound to
the new testament -
  for if the old testament begins with poetry,
and if truly metaphorically chained,
then how pitiful is the genesis of
the new testament, which begins with
  something as sorrowful as the nadir
of greek culture, the expired logos,
   a genealogy, with the greeks ransacking
the jews under roman rule,
  just like the ransacking of constantinople
by the venetians in 1204 (4th crusade)...
who'd start a "holy" book without poetry,
but a ******* geneaology?!
          no wonder poetry these days isn't
a rare appreciation...
    but cheap and as tsunami natured
   in its "production" as tabloid press,
  toothbrushes, toilet paper,
                        toothpicks, among other
                                               paraphernalia;
the new testament is such a massive turn-off...
if you don't begin with poetry,
esp. that of metaphor translated into imagery,
and instead begin with a branch of logic
that the new testament begins with, i.e.
genealogy... and then expect latter poetics
in the text to be taken literally?!
          clue the keen me into the clamours
of the poly-schismatic version of events...
    sure, christianity is a "polytheism",
                           in that it's poly-schismatic.

and of the garden, should adam have approached
first, as he would have done in asia -
         he would have talked with
the serpent sæwelō -
           perhaps that same serpent of
   caucasus - first, to have a thirst of
knowledge tamed - although never really -
  for the serpent sæwelō would have
tempted adam: eat of this tree, its fruit,
  and your thirst for knowledge will be
forever satiated!
   so said the serpent of order
   so said sæwelō (ᛋ), the sun-snake...
the serpent of illumination -
                            the golden serpent.
and so adam bit into the fruit,
   and such thirst as never before filled him,
a thirst for knowledge that hasn't
as of yet seized -
     for the fruit, which adam imagined
would be sweet - was actually filled with salt.

  and we are initiated into the myth
of how the other scenario took place with regards
to a woman approaching the serpent first,
       yes?
                and for the woman, the serpent
of chaos, known as ansuz (ᚨ) - the siamese -
who said both truth and lie simulatenously
  also known as the god who's name begins with
yod, in the roman tongue (Y),
                          and he said:
  you will know the difference between
good and evil -
    ah indeed he said so, but that said, it would
imply acts being simulatenously both,
rather than either / or -
he continued: you'll be like the æsir (gods)!
      knowing such distinctions,
                   and will know the meaning of fate,
and justice, and due recompense!

as etymological mutations occur,
   and translations into other tongues
go, let's begin with:

sieg heil - old english - sigel - hail sun!
       if ever a führer (the few, the rarer),
                        so too the sun's eclipse -
   louis xiv wouldn't have minded,
    but at least he ****** to his
         cockerel's content to praise sunrise -
but as it stands, an etymological
           "mutation" in translation: hail sun!

-------------------------- p.s. p.p.s. p.p.p.s. p.p.p.p.s.
    f(p.s.) ad infinitum: borrowing from
mathematics, i.e. f(x) - heidegger
invented the algebra of writing in a certain style
that's only worth a neurotic / autistic pedant's
worth of bother...

   let's just say, in terms of style,
                                        it's purely hellish,
   you can only go as far with a text
when the variations
  range from dasein, to da-sein
   to da-sein to da-sein (i.e. da-ßein) -
    to whatever else is enclosed in the book...
i haven't got the time to write
an expansion of these milimetres
            and a litre of *** waiting for me...

   inverse stress on being
              detached from a "there": da-ßein:

   with regard to the world and its being
   constituting beings (heidegger's style
of expression, i know, can be a muddle)...

all i wanted was an antonym:
   rather than the world and its there,
   i wanted the world and its nowhere,
or rather, a pure form of being: a here,
      being detached from beings,
   the infinite dance of "solipsism",
    mono-direct articulation /
   plural-direct articulation (a march) /
mono-indirect articulation (a thought) /
plural-indirect articulation (a commute home)...

in terms of dictionary ref. to oppose da (there):

ist da - is here
                hier - here
komm her! - come here!
           hier & da - here & there
                  auf der stelle - here & now

stelle:
       schnellen - quickly
   schwellen (ich bin) - i am swelling
schelle - bell
   bruchstelle - break

                            da-ßien = hiersien

i.e. stressor on being,
             which morphs into a reconstruction
of the original equation:

     i.e. "da"-ßien = hier-"sien" ≠ nichtsein...

    and the point being?
    the simple f(x) translation into philosophical
jargon... f(p.s.) ad infinitum...
                      this had to run into a cul de sac
at some point, given all the technicalities
and stylistic disparities between existentialists,
if any remained to live into the 21st century...
but the buggers ****** off
              let's just say the new wave
of concerning italics remains the still
unexplored territory of missing diacritical marks
in the english language...
    as much can be said about writing
            chair    as can be said about
   writing                  krzesło...
           (yes, a consonant grapheme, err-zed)...
funny, in grapheme terms...
   that the german grapheme ß
  never became a replacement of -sch-
     in english -sh- in slavic -sz-,
             seems to be more t'ss... wet snare...
          another example?
    (choo-choo) train / pociąg -
  and yes, that's not implying choo-choo,
   since it's obvious, the verb ćwiczyć:
to train.
DaRk IcE Apr 2015
She was an eccentric one, living a life of solitude in the depths of the woods. People believed her to be a witch, having seen her using cauldrons supposedly conjuring magic potions for sinister spells. Her only friend, a black crow that perched on her shoulder as she tredded the woods gathering goods. The children often hid behinds tree's and bushes peeking at her in fear that she would catch them spying and turn them into frogs or something worse.  The supposed witch went on about her business preparing for winter months ahead. She dressed quite odd in times where women only worse dresses, she wore trousers. Thick, hand sewn deep brown trousers that she explained kept her warm in winters harsh storms. She seemed to have a remedy for just about everything, encouraging everyone's theory that she really is a witch. She used her cauldron to make herbal tea's and maple syrup to earn a living. She had unusual methods used in much earlier times to see if the maple tree's were ready to be drained of their syrup. The children had seen her thumping  a stick against the tree's not knowing that she was listening to the sound it made which told her if they were ready or not. Her methods, although unsual to current times were nothing of a witch. One fridged winter day a little girl found herself caught in a merciless snow storm. The wind howling fiercely, she was going in circles and indefinitely lost. There she lay face down in the snow passed out from freezing temperatures and pure exhaustion. Out of nowhere the supposed witch came across her lying in the snow. The little girl came to only to be face to face with the witch and was terrified. The witch pegina put her onto a sled and pulled her deep into the woods back to her shack. She poured her a hot cop of tea. The little girl was reluctant to drink it because she thought it was a magic potion. Pegina said, it's only tea child. The little girl smelled it and replied, it does smell like tea. She began sipping it and found it was most delightful. Her clothes were soaked so pegina had an idea. She offered the little girl a pair of deep brown trousers just like hers. The little girl laughed, she said, I'll look silly. They were dry nevertheless, so she put them on and to her surprise were quite warm and cozy. About then, the storm was letting up and it was time to get the girl home. They made the journey back to her house, before departing the little girl asked her a question. She asked, do you think I'll turn out like you? Pegina said, only if your lucky.
I had alot of fun writing this in my own words. Im interested to know if anyone knows where this came from. Please feel free to leave comments if you know or think you know.
Thank you for reading and participating
Hello Daisies Mar 2019
Haha i lied
I tried to hide
I am just so tired
Of crying

I kept the facade up
Really believed myself
When i said
I wasnt bothered

yet i stood there
My heart breaking
At each word she said
About laying in that bed

With you
Seeing you
Ignoring me
And wanting her

Talking to her
Like you did me
It wasmt just jealousy
But pure hurt

Now I cry
And i ask why
******* why
Everyone makes me die

A little more each time
My heart really hurts
How cruel to me
You didnt have to be

I was happy with what we had
You pushed me away like trash
And she took my feelings
And ripped them apart

Ruthelssly she came at me
Eyes wide open shamelessly
Telling me her exploits
As she stomped on my heart

In front of everyone
I smiled as she pounded
Twisted and churned
With a burning sledge

Maybe a bulldozer
It hurt more then anything
Yet i smiled becuase
What can i do
Jokingly tell you off

Is about all i can manage
Becuase it doesn't matter
To anyone but me
Lets face it
I'm nothing

Replaceable to all
Everyone waits for my fall
They see me crawl
And hit so many walls

They all laugh
Hurting me is ok
Beating my face in
In the middle of the day

It's cruel and unsual
But for me it's normal
Everyone watches
Noo ne cares

I'm in pain
I expected this
I did think of course

That when you moved on
You'd be a bit kinder
Then taking full force
And ripping me in half

Its okay
I'm sure you're a great guy
It's just me
My eyes

They speak to people
They tell everyone
To hurt me
In the sickest ways

I must have a price to pay
With god
I don't get normal
I get eternal damnation
And I'm still alive

When i see her face
Smiling with yours
My heart doesn't just break
It sinks
Into a dark hole

Taking my life and soul
The rest of my body
Falls angry and stabs
Stab
Stab
     Stabs
Until i can't breathe
But i didn't want to cry
Therefore i drank
Because the poison
Soothed the anger

Id rather poison myself
Then let it out
Yet a song played
I wrote the words out
In my diary

And each mark
I put down
Reminded me
And brought a smile
Into a frown

Each memory escaped me
And then returned
Darker and unsettled
Now they hurt
But
Theyre in pen

I can shred the paper
Theyre still written
Even blowing through
The wind

So each mark i made
With each memory i tear
broke free
Now here i am

1am and I'm crying alone
The worst part is
Im so used to this
Yet it always hurts more
Each
*******
Time

I was so happy
I wore yellow
The day after
You touched my heart

Now i remember
Yellow was never
My color
I only know
Deep blue

The yellow is raining
The rain won't stop
It's cold and hailing
I keep failing
Everything

The storm is breaking
Im in it and shaking
The ground is quaking
Inside it's aching

Deep inside
That yellow dress
Is torn and bruised
My fingers bled too much
To fix it

I'm so sorry.
My pain never goes away
Im so sorry
The endless crying won't stop
Im so sorry
You hurt me
And I can't
  Stop
     Missing
              You

Im sorry
I'm a fool
i just give up. Everyone hurts ne and then acts like its ok. And i never do anything but cry becayse when i tey i get laughed at and hurt. I got replaced. So fast. Right in my face like im a ******* joke.
Richard Reid Jun 2018
I came before your petals had bloom.
The grass would assume that I watered your flowers.
I wasn’t responsible for that.
You found some way to deep aqua from the underground as naturally unsual it may be.
I just had my face in hand as your jasmine flowers grew.
As you became an astonishing woman.
A woman beyond measurable clue.
What are you?
An abundance of love.
A presumably undoublty covenant in the hope that you remain that angel that inspired me to be.
To be more than rain from above, showering with a day that you remain in your shell.
Remain unkept.
Dwell on the moments that the psyche doesn’t intercept.
We’ve normalized retracement.
Idolized the impact of a non-profitable commitment and I’m not one.
I’m not a human that strives on the wave.
I’ve bounced, I’ve danced, ive denied the logics but the population remains unsaved.
But I am with you.
I’ve been in loneliness but you’ve broken through.
PEARL SMOKE Sep 2017
Throughout My life.
I've Created Another.
Gave Birth To A mind Who I let have the  time to learn, explore &
Grow within me.
It's Scary.
it Eventually Had The power To Live My life And take control over the real Me.
It gained Streghth & power.
It blinded Me To See Reality.
It Placed me in new surroundings , gave me new thoughts and a Different state of Mentality.
All in Which I Felt Was Always Me
I Didnt See The New life I lived.
I Saw everything The Same.
I didn't see Any change.
Idk How to correctly explain.
It never Went through my Head That I've changed. I never noticed How Unsual Everything turned.
sltd May 2018
deep within me,
i know that somethings bothering me.
this unsual feeling that i feel,
becomes so unbearable.
freeverse

— The End —