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"validations" poems
When I look at you and your hundred photographs with some smiles saying cheese while you are busy making some material memories. You tend a click a shooting star or perhaps a new born flower. You capture the reindeer and get a video of a someone drinking beer. Those likes that please and the validations that they give. Is it really what matters ? Would you still click the riviera instead of lying on the grass ? or would you take a moment to breath or post just another smiley ? Its a never ending cycle. Communication through light and distantly distant on the inside You still don't bother and still request more friendships. Do you still long for those hugs and that little chemistry. Do you still wish to hold hands or the ups in your heartbeats. I still wait for a whisper, telling me that you love me. I wish to wake up besides you and not for a beep. But there’s you and your Fake Dopamine.
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Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
Fake Dopamine
Where were we when you quit the sound? Caught in distance while you hung around Encased inside of our own menial pursuit Flaunting desperation as a constant survival As you battled death in your combat boots There is no glory with fate as your rival What were you seeing in your distorted mind? As you ate your last words and ecstaticly dined At the chemical festival of illusions' absorbtion How far did your gaze stroll onto the other side? did you meet with an end or the start of damnation? In which lonely drawer do your dreams now reside? Where have the remnants of life made their grave? Are they in the lingering regret that you've paved? Through each flash of your face and casket sight The delusional rebirth of your presence revealing; Fragments of ended realities giving spark to night Burning sigils into visions of a broken feeling Flame lit sketches etched across a charred eulogy Only a name remains lying in the wake of a memory Pieces scattered amongst an unfitting resting place Conflicting beauties molding a divine contrast A devil laid to rest in the midst of holy space One shade of diversity on a bland earthly cast Echoes of descension from this dimming black sky Adorning each reflection with your hollow eyes Complexions left searching for an answer to hold As to how lifes' vigor can so swiftly fall to decay And,The aging of dignity resembling every tale told Seems to shine a reality check on this tragic play A nulling backdrop for this cemetary playground Where the kings and queens become tediously crowned With a sickly ailment that reaks of dalipidation The stench of the end atop an eternal retrospect Glaring back with the most sincere of validations That the fallen live on as our recollections resurect
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
Cadaverous Animus
Where were we when you quit the sound? Caught in distance while you hung around Encased inside of our own menial pursuit Flaunting desperation as a constant survival As you battled death in your combat boots There is no glory with fate as your rival What were you seeing in your distorted mind? As you ate your last words and ecstaticly dined At the chemical festival of illusions' absorbtion How far did your gaze stroll onto the other side? did you meet with an end or the start of damnation? In which lonely drawer do your dreams now reside? Where have the remnants of life made their grave? Are they in the lingering regret that you've paved? Through each flash of your face and casket sight The delusional rebirth of your presence revealing; Fragments of ended realities giving spark to night Burning sigils into visions of a broken feeling Flame lit sketches etched across a charred eulogy Only a name remains lying in the wake of a memory Pieces scattered amongst an unfitting resting place Conflicting beauties molding a divine contrast A devil laid to rest in the midst of holy space One shade of diversity on a bland earthly cast Echoes of descension from this dimming black sky Adorning each reflection with your hollow eyes Complexions left searching for an answer to hold As to how lifes' vigor can so swiftly fall to decay And,The aging of dignity resembling every tale told Seems to shine a reality check on this tragic play A nulling backdrop for this cemetary playground Where the kings and queens become tediously crowned With a sickly ailment that reaks of dalipidation The stench of the end atop an eternal retrospect Glaring back with the most sincere of validations That the fallen live on as our recollections resurect
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36
The storms of life may never cease to blow in their unanticipated direction. However, you are able to withstand in the same manner as a Jacobean fortress which is not dissuaded by the extremity of Highland elements. The color of your hair is a sure sign of wisdom, despite those self-doubts which are not uncommon to the sincerity of our humanity. So, my fellow sojourner, in this perplexing yet beautiful pilgrimage: rest assured that the dark side of awareness can be applauded by our empathic insights, where those who are haunted by ghostly shadows can bask in the radiance of legitimate validations. Therefore, I urge you to carry that blazing torch into seemingly unfathomable depths of human experience, and to illuminate those treacherous paths of uncertainty with the confidence of ontology. There is no price upon that which you can impart. Therefore, humbly acknowledge the taste of apple pie, and display your bountiful banquet before those who are emaciated. The universe requires your personal enrichment.
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
The Fulfilment of Synthetic History
artifice, oh artifice of deception miraculously ameliorated by a strategy masquerading as a reality or a reality masquerading as a strategy leads to unresolved questions of the perplexities that tug at the heart of many truths laying bear the spontaneous rhythms of a mind in motion with an unprecedented intensity of a struggle to articulate perceptions of a shattered understanding of absurdities proclaimed as violations of moral obligation for morality is nothing more than opinion that has a treasonous alliance with itself giving birth to illegitimate validations of stupidity
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Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
Morality in D flat
Wander along The adoration passageways Too long Glowing in the light Of ones own measure of success You may feel....as if You can soar like the eagle But that may lead To an ego deflation A deficiency in value From black to red So no matter what validations of admiration You may receive no evaluation Will ever make dirt Taste like a custard pie So... Go easy And believe in your value to evaluate yourself And then you... Will... ... Never get hurt when dirt... Always tastes like dirt!
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:49 AM UTC
Custard pie reward
I. I speed down Jamboree, away from you, almost without feelings. The only thing I am really drowning in is guilt. It pulls me under the surface, Leaves me gasping for breath that I can’t seem to grasp. II. I have validations, but they don’t excuse this behavior that won’t just hurt me, but others, too. I can imagine her face when she finds out, a mixture of hate and disbelief. Maybe a double-date to Disneyland is not such a good idea anymore. III. Cheater. IV. I had the option to go home but you tempted me. Stolen kisses like whispers in the night, forgotten fast without a trace, except your smell, your taste. That smell that should choke me, but is inviting. That taste that should be foul, but is sweet. You’re familiar. V. There’s a history between us. It’s hidden amongst the ruins of our secret romance, kept within our tight-knit group of comrades and left a mystery to anyone outside it, including our “other halves”. No matter their title, they don’t know, and they won’t. VI. I know you. I know the number of wrinkled shirts on your backseat that reek of gasoline from the go-karts. I know the way your ankle cracks when you wake up from an accidental nap on your charcoal couch during a “Two and a Half Men” re-run. I know the nightmares of funerals and too many baked goods for a son and mother in grieving. I know too much, and that terrifies me. VII. You’re like an addictive toxin. You’re bad for me, yet I find you in the worst and most unlikely places and embrace your killing qualities, breathing in your broken promises and injecting myself with your reminiscences. I thought I could quit cold turkey yet here I am in your cold Accord wearing your work sweatshirt and wondering where I tell him I am since he knows what time we closed. December 3, 2013
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
The Problems with Sanchez
I. I speed down Jamboree, away from you, almost without feelings. The only thing I am really drowning in is guilt. It pulls me under the surface, Leaves me gasping for breath that I can’t seem to grasp. II. I have validations, but they don’t excuse this behavior that won’t just hurt me, but others, too. I can imagine her face when she finds out, a mixture of hate and disbelief. Maybe a double-date to Disneyland is not such a good idea anymore. III. Cheater. IV. I had the option to go home but you tempted me. Stolen kisses like whispers in the night, forgotten fast without a trace, except your smell, your taste. That smell that should choke me, but is inviting. That taste that should be foul, but is sweet. You’re familiar. V. There’s a history between us. It’s hidden amongst the ruins of our secret romance, kept within our tight-knit group of comrades and left a mystery to anyone outside it, including our “other halves”. No matter their title, they don’t know, and they won’t. VI. I know you. I know the number of wrinkled shirts on your backseat that reek of gasoline from the go-karts. I know the way your ankle cracks when you wake up from an accidental nap on your charcoal couch during a “Two and a Half Men” re-run. I know the nightmares of funerals and too many baked goods for a son and mother in grieving. I know too much, and that terrifies me. VII. You’re like an addictive toxin. You’re bad for me, yet I find you in the worst and most unlikely places and embrace your killing qualities, breathing in your broken promises and injecting myself with your reminiscences. I thought I could quit cold turkey yet here I am in your cold Accord wearing your work sweatshirt and wondering where I tell him I am since he knows what time we closed. December 3, 2013
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59
YOU need to be validated. now, I know that "you love yourself" and all that crap. Maybe too much, actually, that you feel like you don't need anybody else. But isn't it nice to have someone commend you on how you try make yourself better? I think it's nice to know that people could notice the way you radiate with light. That same light that you've worked so hard to conjure up through the chaos. your chaos. Don't you see? YOU are beaming, my love, and the whole world is blinded by you. Can you expect us to shut up?
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Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
Validations
Body relaxed, reserved energy For travels a far. Eyes fixed, focus thin External stimuli dim. Breath deepens, Situations replay again, Like are they really real, again? Like how come so few can view them? Like what is really happening? Contemplating reality. Mind separating the data, Sifting the ******* From the gold. Weighing and weighting, Inventory control. Heavy duty lifting, Mother Earths story to be told. Infected, protected, selected To be told. Considerations and validations, Take so much time. Sorting cosmic energy Permeating our space constantly. The compass takes a spin, Silence... We are confused again, Walking slowly and rather dumbed. Bought in, and then few will decline These are the times, history Told.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
contemplation
please breathe please breathe some more and more and more you will be okay I will be okay perfection is not mandatory not possible you are enough ringing validations out to yourself in the moonlight of the night is enough for now and maybe for always please breathe you can sleep you will never finish but you are always complete so sleep
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Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 10:15 PM UTC
close your eyes
i'm stalling in these slowly sinking weeks, seeking question-mark validations from the backs turned to me. these are abandoned bridges i wish i had burned; boards that break before i try to walk on them. i hear them creak in your wake when you walk past. maybe i could find my hammer and nails and try again, but you've made sandpaper out of my heart and my throat's scratched raw. don't ask girls who hate paper cuts to build you rome. she'd rather build you gallows to hang herself from. there are aches in the joints of my automaton heart and i cut circuits just to forget about you. she stared me dead in the eye and i tasted acid rain. hate smells like rotten petrichor. i forget my midnights in hopes of sleeping through the sun, but we're haunted by our daylight ghosts. i must smile and say hello before these puppet string frowns pull further down in dread and dreariness.
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Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:01 AM UTC
marionette
I tricked myself into thinking you were sunlight and I was a flower but you are not a star and this world is not a garden and I am a human soul who needs more than warmth at night and I do not need validations, you do not validate me you do not keep me alive. It took to long to know this but I am not a flower and you are not my sun, you don't decide when I get loved.
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Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
blossoming
Sometimes you get these little victories A change in this little thing that bothers you, and that other thing that needs doing Small pieces of self change the bitter taste in your mouth to a wonderful view in the mirror And before you know it you're having a great day And on those days When things get a bit too annoying When a source of disparity is exacerbated either deliberately by others or just a symptom of the natural flow You trust in those little validations And remember the tunnel that gives you your vision Sometimes you've got this, and nothing will **** with that.
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Sometimes
it's okay to let confusion drown you, pour over you like the wind sweeps the Great Plains clean. it's okay to mistake up for down, and have to wear a compass rigged with alarm bells as an amulet. it's okay to forget your name and make up a new one. there will be days when you can't see out the window past the dust and sun-charred veneer, and they will serve as reminders of the universe in the bathroom mirror and it's impossible reality. it's okay to feel like mundane chaos, or a deflating balloon in the dessert sun. it's okay to save secrets for yourself and to wear your mistakes as medals on your chest. it's okay to doubt all that you've ever been told. there will be days when no amount of coffee will cure the weariness compiled in your bones and you will have to set a timer for breathing. it's okay to squeal in ecstasy and in fury and in despair. it's okay to miss people who do not think of you and wish that they would. it's okay to wonder if you have every truly loved anything. there might not ever come a day when it all makes sense, and that is okay too.
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 3:52 AM UTC
meek validations
Happiness retreats when we don’t fit the mold We internalize that failure and put everything on hold Daily validations to lift up our mood All in an effort just to feel good But we forget, Happiness is transient, not a permanent state In seeking permanence, we miss the gate To presence, to clarity, to an awakened state ©seychung
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Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 6:30 PM UTC
Happiness
There they are, the falling of stars When devils and angels danced Where the sacraments of our validations Lie wasted upon ocean waves Of seratonin highs And dopamine lows
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
Chemical Imbalance