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"valiant" poems
death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father's garage, how child-like I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were escape- their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the glass only to spin and flit in that second larger than hell or heaven onto the edge of the ledge, and then the spider from his dank hole nervous and exposed the puff of body swelling hanging there not really quite knowing, and then knowing- something sending it down its string, the wet web, toward the weak shield of buzzing, the pulsing; a last desperate moving hair-leg there against the glass there alive in the sun, spun in white; and almost like love: the closing over, the first hushed spider-sucking: filling its sack upon this thing that lived; crouching there upon its back drawing its certain blood as the world goes by outside and my temples scream and I hurl the broom against them: the spider dull with spider-anger still thinking of its prey and waving an amazed broken leg; the fly very still, a ***** speck stranded to straw; I shake the killer loose and he walks lame and peeved towards some dark corner but I intercept his dawdling his crawling like some broken hero, and the straws smash his legs now waving above his head and looking looking for the enemy and somewhat valiant, dying without apparent pain simply crawling backward piece by piece leaving nothing there until at last the red gut sack splashes its secrets, and I run child-like with God's anger a step behind, back to simple sunlight, wondering as the world goes by with curled smile if anyone else saw or sensed my crime
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22.4k
Death Wants More Death
death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father's garage, how child-like I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were escape- their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the glass only to spin and flit in that second larger than hell or heaven onto the edge of the ledge, and then the spider from his dank hole nervous and exposed the puff of body swelling hanging there not really quite knowing, and then knowing- something sending it down its string, the wet web, toward the weak shield of buzzing, the pulsing; a last desperate moving hair-leg there against the glass there alive in the sun, spun in white; and almost like love: the closing over, the first hushed spider-sucking: filling its sack upon this thing that lived; crouching there upon its back drawing its certain blood as the world goes by outside and my temples scream and I hurl the broom against them: the spider dull with spider-anger still thinking of its prey and waving an amazed broken leg; the fly very still, a ***** speck stranded to straw; I shake the killer loose and he walks lame and peeved towards some dark corner but I intercept his dawdling his crawling like some broken hero, and the straws smash his legs now waving above his head and looking looking for the enemy and somewhat valiant, dying without apparent pain simply crawling backward piece by piece leaving nothing there until at last the red gut sack splashes its secrets, and I run child-like with God's anger a step behind, back to simple sunlight, wondering as the world goes by with curled smile if anyone else saw or sensed my crime
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64
You'll love her with all your skin, tongue and lungs. The way that the air is just so much more crisp whenever she's in proximity to your hands. It turns the scattered dust in the atmosphere into magnifying glasses Aimed directly at her Spotlighting everything you wish you could put into words but can't Because she's just too ******* unbelievable That even if you tried, you would offend yourself and the gods with how little it compares to The love she makes you feel in reality. You would do everything for her. Hold her until your bones start to crack So that she'll understand just what you mean When you tell her that you'll never let her go. But she still doesn't get it. She'll never understand that when you tell her that you want nothing more Than to let your dust be her dust, her words to be in your cheeks Her nose to be your daughters nose You mean that you want nothing more than to keep her forever. But you never will. Because you never stood a chance. You thought that by giving your whole self over to her she would offer you the same respect. That's not how this world works. It never was. These valiant efforts of yours are now dubbed selfish and inconsiderate by others For not taking her feelings into account. Because she doesn't know what true love is. She never felt the need to have you near. For her daughters smile to be your smile. For your hands to cradle her head when she's sad. To let you talk for hours without listening to a single ******* word you're saying, Because she's lost in the sound of your voice. Because she doesn't know how to accept anything she isn't willing to give.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:17 AM UTC
An Open Letter To Boys Wanting Love
You'll love her with all your skin, tongue and lungs. The way that the air is just so much more crisp whenever she's in proximity to your hands. It turns the scattered dust in the atmosphere into magnifying glasses Aimed directly at her Spotlighting everything you wish you could put into words but can't Because she's just too ******* unbelievable That even if you tried, you would offend yourself and the gods with how little it compares to The love she makes you feel in reality. You would do everything for her. Hold her until your bones start to crack So that she'll understand just what you mean When you tell her that you'll never let her go. But she still doesn't get it. She'll never understand that when you tell her that you want nothing more Than to let your dust be her dust, her words to be in your cheeks Her nose to be your daughters nose You mean that you want nothing more than to keep her forever. But you never will. Because you never stood a chance. You thought that by giving your whole self over to her she would offer you the same respect. That's not how this world works. It never was. These valiant efforts of yours are now dubbed selfish and inconsiderate by others For not taking her feelings into account. Because she doesn't know what true love is. She never felt the need to have you near. For her daughters smile to be your smile. For your hands to cradle her head when she's sad. To let you talk for hours without listening to a single ******* word you're saying, Because she's lost in the sound of your voice. Because she doesn't know how to accept anything she isn't willing to give.
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31
Artistic                                   Amazing Beautiful   Bright                Capable   Caring   Desirable   Delightful     Easy-going   Enough       Funny   Generous   Helpful   honest   Important     Justified      Kind   I AM   Loveable   Mature Needed   Original   Poetic   Quick-witted Reliable   ****   Skilled   Truthful Unstoppable   Valiant   Wise X-elent    Youthful Zealous
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 5:21 AM UTC
Love yourself.
We were teammates We suited up We showed up We weren't stars But we rolled in the dirt With the best of them Our blood ran red Like the rest of them Our sweat tasted salty As the most athletic of them Wounds and bruises Ached like the most Stalwart of them We were Bulldogs! We anted up our Gifts and talents to Forge a winning season A flair for humor Wry observation, Encouragement, fortitude And intelligence were as Valuable as speed, Agility and strength We all pined for the Affection of cheerleaders, Bandmembers and the Adoration of fans We equally joined In the chorus of locker room banter And honored the Confidence of camaraderie Such intimacy bares We endured thankless Adversity, while wending through anonymous toil As brothers We grudgingly drank From the vile cup of defeat And passed the chalice Of victory among us To share the savory Taste of triumph As champions The Duke of Wellington Said “the battle of Waterloo Was won on the fields of Eton” I trust my teammates and Not forgotten friends Tasted sweet victories of Happiness and success As they coursed through Their prodigious fields of life And at games end I hope their heart swelled With pride to know they were A beloved and Valiant Bulldog David Irving Korsh #75 BCSL Champion 1973 Rutherford Bulldogs Well done Valiant Bulldog God bless and Godspeed Music Selection: Bruce Springsteen Thunder Road 5/5/18 Puyallup jbm
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
Valiant Bulldog
Fear, Is a battle. Fear is a Disease. My disease. Fear, puts me in places, That I know I shouldn't be in. Like I woke up in a dark attic, not knowing how I got there, or why. See, it's not...things...I'm afraid of. It's not people, or pain, or injury, or death. Fear puts thoughts in you, that are totally and completely out of character, until they begin changing how you define yourself. I am, The fearful. I am, The untrusting. Trust and fear come hand in hand, but purvey the opposite effects of one another. Trust, puts fear to sleep. A silent, peaceful slumber. A place fear would rather be anyway. Trust allows you to see what is hopefully the truth in others. Ah...you see. "Hopefully." There is that little seed of doubt. Fear is the abusive sibling of the relationship. Always hanging over trust's shoulder, whispering worst-case scenarios in his ear. In mine, it takes trust's confidence and gently, throws it into the nearest garbage can. Trust is powerful. But fear cuts deep. When trust, faith, in someone is broken... Well...we've all been there at some point. When trust is broken, he half-heartedly stumbles to his bed, and stays there. Not asleep. Just, broken. At this point fear doesn't have to do a thing. Anytime you look inside yourself, since trust is gone, the only thing left is fear, just...sitting there. Normally trust...gets up and brushes himself off to try again, especially with the help of friends. But, in a few of us... In a few of us, trust falls asleep, and disappears. Hope, the half-sibling tries and tries to wake him up, to no avail. Trust is gone. Fear just sits there. Doing nothing, but doing everything. Hope is a stubborn one, and pushes, and pushes, and pushes. Sometimes it works. Sometimes, it doesn't. Fear. Trust. They walk, hand in hand. Toe, to toe. I am, The fearful. I am, The untrusting. Hope, through valiant effort, keeps on trying. Her energy is not limitless. At times like these... Hope, is not enough. Trust has died. The only way, to restore the balance, Is for another's heart to come forth, and share their trust. It's not fair, asking your trust to keep my fear in check, as well as yours, It just isn't. At times like these, I need the trust of someone, Who is willing to share, With one, who trusts no one.
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Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
A Story of Fear, Trust, and Hope.
Fear, Is a battle. Fear is a Disease. My disease. Fear, puts me in places, That I know I shouldn't be in. Like I woke up in a dark attic, not knowing how I got there, or why. See, it's not...things...I'm afraid of. It's not people, or pain, or injury, or death. Fear puts thoughts in you, that are totally and completely out of character, until they begin changing how you define yourself. I am, The fearful. I am, The untrusting. Trust and fear come hand in hand, but purvey the opposite effects of one another. Trust, puts fear to sleep. A silent, peaceful slumber. A place fear would rather be anyway. Trust allows you to see what is hopefully the truth in others. Ah...you see. "Hopefully." There is that little seed of doubt. Fear is the abusive sibling of the relationship. Always hanging over trust's shoulder, whispering worst-case scenarios in his ear. In mine, it takes trust's confidence and gently, throws it into the nearest garbage can. Trust is powerful. But fear cuts deep. When trust, faith, in someone is broken... Well...we've all been there at some point. When trust is broken, he half-heartedly stumbles to his bed, and stays there. Not asleep. Just, broken. At this point fear doesn't have to do a thing. Anytime you look inside yourself, since trust is gone, the only thing left is fear, just...sitting there. Normally trust...gets up and brushes himself off to try again, especially with the help of friends. But, in a few of us... In a few of us, trust falls asleep, and disappears. Hope, the half-sibling tries and tries to wake him up, to no avail. Trust is gone. Fear just sits there. Doing nothing, but doing everything. Hope is a stubborn one, and pushes, and pushes, and pushes. Sometimes it works. Sometimes, it doesn't. Fear. Trust. They walk, hand in hand. Toe, to toe. I am, The fearful. I am, The untrusting. Hope, through valiant effort, keeps on trying. Her energy is not limitless. At times like these... Hope, is not enough. Trust has died. The only way, to restore the balance, Is for another's heart to come forth, and share their trust. It's not fair, asking your trust to keep my fear in check, as well as yours, It just isn't. At times like these, I need the trust of someone, Who is willing to share, With one, who trusts no one.
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53
Imperialistic meddlers, men of power greed and wealth Western Imperialism not too long ago was once put on the shelf Not too long ago this name was never heard Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr But still us folk of sanity with eyes wide open we see their compliance lock-step herd vanity In White House spin gone amuck they throw their bolts of anger to all countries on the globe And with more and more displeasure we witness their destructiveness from sea to shining sea But now I hear, see and feel a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous the rumbling stampeding of democracy by the forceful rightful anger, the free-spirited valiant word a word of truth and dignity, the echo of today, and aaah yes to hear the thundering of the mass To hear the thundering of the mass...
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Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
To hear the thundering of the Mass
I lay spread out on  My local shingle beach Letting the pebbles  Sift through my fingers I consider the myriad Shapes and forms they take. The varying rust Charcoal grey and mustard shades I set myself a mission In the multitudes That the sea brings to my feet I will find amongst the  Copious cobbles The ultimate pebble Perfect and pleasingly Quirky or smooth. I become so absorbed by  This sifting sorting  Comforting process  A simple quest I forget myself And my proximity to the waves  Until i am splashed  And soaked and  Have to vow to take up This valiant quest  Another day. Until then I have taken  Home a few shortlisted Candidates And made a promise to stand up when The winner is found And make a little trumpet Fanfare sound And hold the stone aloft!
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Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Myriad (ode to pebbles)
Through the serpentine path Concealed from prying eyes Walks the courageous heart Towards a destination unknown Numerous fangs, ready to bite To inject the venomous intent And incapacitate the heart Seeking the unachievable The braveheart dodges hurdles Stares down fear itself Arduous journey takes its toll Small sacrifice to reach the pinnacle Where none have been before Will be written in folklore Valiant one who walked the path None dared to tread before
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Serpentine Path
Bequeath this Honour from the Eighties' Tribe To he who Modelled their Choice of Youth then Synchronise! The Word our Age imbibe Of Cool Moves, Puppies and Groovy-Pop Scent This Innocence, Sir, which you Emulate Through Mischief that Last Good Deed you remind How we, though Clowned, this Party appreciate Left printed for Cats to oogle behind Then that Watch you wore alarmed you to Grow And signalled your Hour to stand and be brave Hail, Parker Soldier! Valiant Flag bestow, Took arms with Locals and fought for our Stay. And when you Return, those Preppie-Girls cheer The Nerd and the Suave, Cross-Wrists with you here.
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Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: CORIN NEMEC
--- Once upon a time In a land so far away There was a wretched kingdom Were a vampire held sway He was very ancient Handsome as a knave Dressed in black and silken garb Was said to be quite brave But such a cruel creature He devoured the towns The soldiers were all petrified Would not defend the crown So the King of the castle Searched both far and wide For mighty men of valor To defend the countryside Finally up north He found a daring band Of golden headed Vikings To defend his failing land The company of Norsemen Could not be laidback They rallied their army And decided to attack! They put no garlic round their necks No ash stakes did they carry They knew not the vampire ways And so they were not wary But oh! What valiant men! They made quite a sight! Scaling the vampiric castle walls - IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT! The vampire, Vlad the terrible, Made a crimson flood Destroyed every one of them And feasted on their blood! It was before morning The darkest witching hour Vlad finished dispatching them His countenance was dour Then a light came streaking From the pitch black sky - It was a Valkyrie! She made a fearsome cry! "You! Vlad the terrible!" The ghoul looked up, aghast! "You feasted on my Norsemen - But I am here at LAST!!!" The mighty female warrior Shook back her golden mane "You've killed many villagers But won't do it AGAIN!!!" The brilliant armored woman Faced off the evil lord He laughed, "You cannot slay me! No! Not with that sword!" "And for all your armor What do you suppose? Your sweet delicious throat Is slender... and EXPOSED!!! The Valkyrie laughed She threw back her hair She let fly her sword It scissored through the air!!! The dreaded Vlad was impaled But NOT through his chest Through his very garments The great sword came to rest To a TREE the monster stuck Like a fly caught with a pin He could not free himself! And he saw the rising SUN!!! He struggled against his cape He'd have none of THAT! But Vlad could not break the sword So he became a bat! Up he flew to escape his fate But a ray of sun broke through With an arc he burnt to spark IT DESTROYED VLAD AS HE FLEW!!! The Valkyrie, triumphant, Cried out, "it is I!!! For when there is a battle, I decide who lives and dies!!! I decide the outcome! Tis not by happenstance... Won't see you in Valhalla *You never had a chance!!!* So ended the battle The Valkyrie WON. The outcome was decided... ...Before it was begun!!! SoulSurvivor 5/6/2015
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Vampire VS Valkyrie
--- Once upon a time In a land so far away There was a wretched kingdom Were a vampire held sway He was very ancient Handsome as a knave Dressed in black and silken garb Was said to be quite brave But such a cruel creature He devoured the towns The soldiers were all petrified Would not defend the crown So the King of the castle Searched both far and wide For mighty men of valor To defend the countryside Finally up north He found a daring band Of golden headed Vikings To defend his failing land The company of Norsemen Could not be laidback They rallied their army And decided to attack! They put no garlic round their necks No ash stakes did they carry They knew not the vampire ways And so they were not wary But oh! What valiant men! They made quite a sight! Scaling the vampiric castle walls - IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT! The vampire, Vlad the terrible, Made a crimson flood Destroyed every one of them And feasted on their blood! It was before morning The darkest witching hour Vlad finished dispatching them His countenance was dour Then a light came streaking From the pitch black sky - It was a Valkyrie! She made a fearsome cry! "You! Vlad the terrible!" The ghoul looked up, aghast! "You feasted on my Norsemen - But I am here at LAST!!!" The mighty female warrior Shook back her golden mane "You've killed many villagers But won't do it AGAIN!!!" The brilliant armored woman Faced off the evil lord He laughed, "You cannot slay me! No! Not with that sword!" "And for all your armor What do you suppose? Your sweet delicious throat Is slender... and EXPOSED!!! The Valkyrie laughed She threw back her hair She let fly her sword It scissored through the air!!! The dreaded Vlad was impaled But NOT through his chest Through his very garments The great sword came to rest To a TREE the monster stuck Like a fly caught with a pin He could not free himself! And he saw the rising SUN!!! He struggled against his cape He'd have none of THAT! But Vlad could not break the sword So he became a bat! Up he flew to escape his fate But a ray of sun broke through With an arc he burnt to spark IT DESTROYED VLAD AS HE FLEW!!! The Valkyrie, triumphant, Cried out, "it is I!!! For when there is a battle, I decide who lives and dies!!! I decide the outcome! Tis not by happenstance... Won't see you in Valhalla *You never had a chance!!!* So ended the battle The Valkyrie WON. The outcome was decided... ...Before it was begun!!! SoulSurvivor 5/6/2015
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95
Dancing on the lifeline, Flying through the dirt, Mixing into puddles, Resembling the sky... Everything is nothing. Nothing is everything. The truth is but a lie Not looked in the eye. The spoiled goods we buy! Dancing on the lifeline, Spinning dervish, spin. Aquire all the knowledge you seek, Find it is within. Poets are the prophets To the souls of those that read. The magick that is in the verses Always plants a seed To enlightenment, the need. We are all Dancing on the lineline, Connected by the threads, That comprise the ribbons Of the thoughts within our heads. Everything for which we thirst Is already in our chalice. We only need to drink of it, But need to keep the balance... Beware the one called valiant. Never fear that victor, Who has never seen a challange, Who has been given everything On a silver platter. Listen to the hope inside. Follow it, as you lead. As you cast your spells And spin your webs, take heed. Dancing on your lifeline, Holding onto what is true. Only when you care for others, Will you know they care for you.
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
Dancing on the Lifeline
I did not restrain myself. I let go entirely and went. To the pleasures that were half real and half wheeling in my brain, I went into the lit night. And I drank of potent wines, such as the valiant of voluptuousness drink.
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4.8k
I Went
The wick is fading, and I have no matches left In this dark abyss where I sit depressed My valiant heart has become a perch for crows Smile shaped in stone Each embrace stiff and cold from my marbled soul My arms depict a grasping hand Reaching for a world these etched eyes will never know Trapped in the heart of a withered artist His mad dealings mold and make me A victim of his musings Crafted in a candlelit madness Delicate delusions and vague allusions To courage in the many veiled faces of death Carved and set at the base of the steps Statuesque
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Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
Statuesque
Upon the loss of the dinosaurs, so plentiful, Back in the land before time when life wasn’t so dull, Tall trees, blue skies, green grasses, deep dark water, Nature as it was meant to be, with volcanoes that couldn’t be hotter. This was the world you lived in before it came to an end. A meteor? A flood? Maybe. But obviously it was something you could not mend. Velociraptor, T-Rex, Triceratops, you’re all gone. A species once so valiant, nobody stood in their way, not one. Shaping some of the animals we have today, dinosaurs are like, square one. From a 40ft menace to a lone iguana, isn’t evolution fun? The highlight of the prehistoric era, If you think I’m awkward because of my enthusiasm for dinos, then call me Michael Cera. Like a bad ending to a good movie, Your demise was something that nobody wanted to see. The world would be a better place with a dinosaur here and there. Some people wouldn’t be a fan, but does it sound like I care? I think every single dinosaur is badass, Even the herbivores that only eat grass. If you’re the type of person that’s glad dinosaurs are dead, Then I wish it was YOU that was hit by the meteor instead.
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
dinosaur sonnet pt. 2
We're all human here, right? Why, then, is my side, most human, Something bidden I hide? --- Mockings chant their mocking things, Swinging from the hinges of reality. While, sneers and jeers born from, Overgrown fears, Leave small ****** in my ripe heart - Unceasingly. At the door, my mind assured me, go, And my feet, those dumb things, did listen. Went right into havoc, Wreaked solely by tragic, Souls, so pathetic, I can't even stand it. Who's ripping up my soul so darkly, Save, me and the audience I've made? Surely, the swift-sounding people, With valiant battles to battle - Are too busy to waste time at the gallows. You dug the hole, And jumped right on in, I merely picked up the shovel, And finished it. Though, now, my heart aches, So red and opaque, Curse you, For doing you in. 07.2011
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC
Secrets Don't Make Friends
I dreamt of you the other day Such sweet resonance with your presence, it echoed a calm I only experience with you; awoken, and sound You caught me in a time of plight, pulled me forth in valiant fervor Your smile shined upon me, and I felt safe; feverishly exposing your excitement to explore the horizon We drove into the fog; your warmth was tangible, even in my subconscious dwelling Next to you, I simply felt good; a place I can not substitute I felt calm, as if all qualms and scores of darkness simply melted away; you seemed happier than I had ever seen when I had not declined your beckoning I felt home, and you seemed content to feel the same with me by you If ever that could be true when I awake for this, life would forever be a dream I dreamt for peace, and you were there; simplicity, two threads cut from the same cloth, bound together I hope to bring you the same light
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Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 4:05 PM UTC
Untitled
Currently there are: Thousands of cars zooming down the highway at breakneck speeds, Millions of lights illuminating the dreary road, With the power of a hundred valiant steeds, Causing the cement to corrode and erode, Thousands of fossil fuels burnt merely to transport other fossil fuels, Pollutants filling the air and altering our environment, But these are the worlds most precious jewels, All to feel the capitalist tyrant. But hey... At least I have air conditioning in my F150 while heading to set off Chinese fireworks while celebrating the 4th of July. The American Dream.
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Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
The American Dream
I am just a rat, some object all the boys pick and kick and lick at, tease, and put in a cage, saw in half, and sew back together with their **** and ******** their sweet nothings their bitter sentences. They're lies, blades, dark, heroic, and valiant seas that drown rats. They're litter all over consciousness.
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Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
**** and ********
Ring Out, Wild Bells by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more, Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkenss of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
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3.4k
Ring Out, Wild Bells
As I contemplated the project of writing a persuasive essay I discovered that I would have to have a topic upon which to practice my persuasive techniques .  After much cogitation and enumeration of my possibilities , pursued with such zeal that it soon resembled pedantic ostentation , I concluded that the most positive prospect I could pursue in this endeavor would be an attempt to prove irrefutably that I deserve a grade of A in this class ; if not for the undeniable excellence of my effort , then at least for the unadulterated audacity of my pretentious assertion .   In order to perform this feat first I must overwhelm your developing consternation , the frozen mastodon of your auspicious judition .  To accomplish this I will cite my impeccable attendance ; which although not perfect was indeed a valiant effort in the face of public opinion whose abstinence approached epidemic proportions .  I will expound on the effectual and pervasive inspirations of my in class commentary , which sparked many a heated argument or thoughtful conjecture ; and comment on the polished precision of my in class narration .  I will reiterate the diversity and intrigue of my subject matter and the competence of my delivery . Next , with all the dynamic aggression of a wind-up tyrannosaur , I will recapitulate and exemplify my arguments ; until the ramifications of my inductive collusions exceed the boundaries of your psychic phenomenon and you are forced to acquiesce into impunity .   Yes I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind , until mesmerized by the multitudes of analogous content you find yourself , disguised as captain corpuscle , floating euphorically down stream in a think box mind gram dingy towards a sea of Colorado cool aid .  Then as if all that were not enough to thoroughly torque your ringer , adamant and tenacious I will portray realms of intellectual austerity so intriguing you will be raised to new heights of enigmatism , and then I will leave you , enraptured with your own anonymity , at the edge of the new world freeway .
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:03 PM UTC
Persuasion
As I contemplated the project of writing a persuasive essay I discovered that I would have to have a topic upon which to practice my persuasive techniques .  After much cogitation and enumeration of my possibilities , pursued with such zeal that it soon resembled pedantic ostentation , I concluded that the most positive prospect I could pursue in this endeavor would be an attempt to prove irrefutably that I deserve a grade of A in this class ; if not for the undeniable excellence of my effort , then at least for the unadulterated audacity of my pretentious assertion .   In order to perform this feat first I must overwhelm your developing consternation , the frozen mastodon of your auspicious judition .  To accomplish this I will cite my impeccable attendance ; which although not perfect was indeed a valiant effort in the face of public opinion whose abstinence approached epidemic proportions .  I will expound on the effectual and pervasive inspirations of my in class commentary , which sparked many a heated argument or thoughtful conjecture ; and comment on the polished precision of my in class narration .  I will reiterate the diversity and intrigue of my subject matter and the competence of my delivery . Next , with all the dynamic aggression of a wind-up tyrannosaur , I will recapitulate and exemplify my arguments ; until the ramifications of my inductive collusions exceed the boundaries of your psychic phenomenon and you are forced to acquiesce into impunity .   Yes I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind , until mesmerized by the multitudes of analogous content you find yourself , disguised as captain corpuscle , floating euphorically down stream in a think box mind gram dingy towards a sea of Colorado cool aid .  Then as if all that were not enough to thoroughly torque your ringer , adamant and tenacious I will portray realms of intellectual austerity so intriguing you will be raised to new heights of enigmatism , and then I will leave you , enraptured with your own anonymity , at the edge of the new world freeway .
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4
Always eager, never feeble. Lives to do it, will pursue it. Never coward, will-powered. Burning desire, unknowingly inspire. Good under pressure, The best, expect nothing lesser. Extreme will and devotion, Do not cause scene or commotion. Attentively listen, Very well disciplined. Works until the job is done, willing to risk his life for a son. Never asks for applause, works for a cause. Pays a price for a result, gives all without exult. Qualified to protect, command respect. Valiant and ready to save, all in the name of the home of the brave. Self motivation, gives whatever it takes for the sake of a nation. Dignified, noble and strong, rush in when things go wrong. Sacrifice so you can have your freedom, Let him know that you need him.
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Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
The Soldier.
Valiant are you who fought and fell gloriously; fearless of those who were everywhere victorious. Blameless, even if Diaeos and Critolaos were at fault. When the Greeks want to boast, "Our nation turns out such men" they will say of you. And thus marvellous will be your praise. -- Written in Alexandria by an Achaean; in the seventh year of Ptolemy Lathyrus.
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Those Who Fought For The Achaean League
With different people come different skills, in the game of life which we all play. And like a game of chess , each piece, unique in its own way. To the smallest pawn to the greatest knight, each piece reflects who we are inside. But as one might think a disadvantage is at hand, that the pawn has not any chance. With the queen’s strong offense, and the bishops swift attack, the pawn’s presence is sadly overlooked. For many see it as a worthless runt, only used in the scheme of the king and ignored until the bitter end. But in fact the pawn is the most courageous of them all. The only piece who knows how to charge. Fearless and brave, it surges forward, unhesitant and void of fear. Who won’t retreat when defeat is near. So who are you? Which one are you? The decisive knight, the stubborn king, the blunt rook, the potent queen? The swift bishop or the valiant pawn? All of which reflects who we are.
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Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC
Game of Life
She represented freedom With her humble clothes her burning red hair, have i ever witnessed something so pure She smiled with her eyes closed as she danced just for herself She was not dependent on the crowd's applauses She only moved for the heart's desire and love of the folk music She had captured gazes, without a single look. The witness of her radiance gave hope, but she was oblivious to her affect on the people As with every valiant step she took, her subtle curls were tenderly shown affection by the cool breeze of the night She had known the woods better than anyone in the town As if she had not walked alone, which only made her light radiate ever so bright. She wore mud as her shoes and used the howling voices of dusk as her armor It makes you question; if the moon was created just for her eyes, they seemed to get brighter and shiny every la lluna plena.
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Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
The Embodiment of Vitality
Once, I was excluded from love, in bitterness I cursed all that I saw, not knowing that this bitterness made me anathema to the very sensations I pursued. I spread hateful ideology, made every effort to share my misery, shouted condemnation at every pair of clasped hands, every kiss I saw made me retch. The bitterness welled up and poured forth from me, reppelling loves valiant attempts at liberating me from my tower cell. From my relatively pleasant existance I fashioned my own tailor fitted hell, which I wore everyday, steadily collecting filth, so soiled I had become. As I lifted the last shovelful from my early grave, and prepared to climb down within with my list of grievances against God stapled to my shirt, so I might never forget, my foot stepped out into the pit but a gentle hand clenched my shoulder and pulled me back from the hole, and I turned and discovered love... It does exist, none need be excluded, if the feeling exists for some all can be included. Love not for the pleasure of it, but for the pain, and strain, so that we may constantly measure it against the ache of loneliness and remind ourselves, that while love may be a neverending battle, surrender to hate brings nothing but ruin.
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Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
Surrender To Hate...