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"verifies" poems
No place for roleplay in this illumined shrine of sanctified skin and porcelain where the most literal of lovers whelm in the stainless steel hot spring's silver stream where the smoke screen of clothing clashes with the steam cloud rising like ironic bread in Eden's kitchen where a woman turns around wrings and whips her satin slope of hair around a shoulder leaving to her man ideas and a bar of soap that slithers effortlessly in his palm like a melted deck of cards where a bubbled corner is embedded in the small of her back elevated from the tailbone to the neck and lowered like the zipper of the dress he parted not so long ago where a jolt of urgency accelerates an exercise in the ski of soap around the junction of the hips and outer buttocks and a segue silently approved by her arms hoisted to attend to hair thought to be already washed and conditioned where the soap is shared by both hands on the scaling of her sudded sternum presaging an unseen demand from the beacons of progression swelling in the wet heat where a hand of soap and hand of slide verifies the demand of hands on her beaded ******* where he answers her swell with his stiffness in the final feel of mystery before a soft shift of arms approximates a plea for a frontal rinse where hands return to ****** crowned chest sparking the advent of eye contact all the while where his ****** intensifies in proportion to the eyes closed in anticipation of their saturated mouths' magnetic duet where saliva and the cooling water mix on their cameos of tongues slipping through their lips in the midst of the mist and where their towels hang in a forgotten heap while he takes her dripping body in his arms and carries her to where the roleplay will have to wait after all
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
CISTERN
No place for roleplay in this illumined shrine of sanctified skin and porcelain where the most literal of lovers whelm in the stainless steel hot spring's silver stream where the smoke screen of clothing clashes with the steam cloud rising like ironic bread in Eden's kitchen where a woman turns around wrings and whips her satin slope of hair around a shoulder leaving to her man ideas and a bar of soap that slithers effortlessly in his palm like a melted deck of cards where a bubbled corner is embedded in the small of her back elevated from the tailbone to the neck and lowered like the zipper of the dress he parted not so long ago where a jolt of urgency accelerates an exercise in the ski of soap around the junction of the hips and outer buttocks and a segue silently approved by her arms hoisted to attend to hair thought to be already washed and conditioned where the soap is shared by both hands on the scaling of her sudded sternum presaging an unseen demand from the beacons of progression swelling in the wet heat where a hand of soap and hand of slide verifies the demand of hands on her beaded ******* where he answers her swell with his stiffness in the final feel of mystery before a soft shift of arms approximates a plea for a frontal rinse where hands return to ****** crowned chest sparking the advent of eye contact all the while where his ****** intensifies in proportion to the eyes closed in anticipation of their saturated mouths' magnetic duet where saliva and the cooling water mix on their cameos of tongues slipping through their lips in the midst of the mist and where their towels hang in a forgotten heap while he takes her dripping body in his arms and carries her to where the roleplay will have to wait after all
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59
Total abstinence is so excellent a thing it cannot be carried to too great an extent and Wit is the  sudden marriage of ideas which before their union had no relation. Americans will occasionally astonish the God that created us when given a fair shake . Indecency is the first thing the missionary teaches the savage. Nature knows no indecencies ;man invents them. Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities ,truth isn't. Action is always the way ; words will answer as long as it is his neighbor who is in trouble. Truth is the most valuable thing we have.Let us economize it. Herodotus says,very few things happen at the right time and the rest do not happen at all Obsession is the man with a hole in the seat of his pants and cannot keep his fingers out  it My mother had a great deal of trouble with me but I think she enjoyed it Size of the dog in the fight dont count.size of the fight in the dog Dont go around going the world owes you a living. The world was here first Denial Just aint a river in EGYPT Prose wanders around with a lantern & laboriously schedules & verifies the details. The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated Hunger is pride's master
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Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
Twain. Fathoms. Depth.
Why is it that I feel closest to you when this simple timestamp appears before me? Can you explain this digital phenomenon that verifies your existence? That you do indeed breath and eat and dream; that radio silence is the most empty sound of all? Why is it that I feel closest to you when this simple timestamp appears before me?
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
Active 2 minutes ago
I write poems for kids That too often get asked “are you a boy, or a girl” Because they are the only ones who Will understand the physical rush Of empowerment versus discouragement In their guts The question that verifies You have finally broken gender norms Unhuman. Floating in unearthly genderless celestial bodies “are you a boy, or a girl” Only to hit the ground faster than falling stars When told “you better ******* start acting like it” I write poems for kids Who have a bird cage for ribs And fish for a heart Raised on its ability to fly Look kid, you gotta learn how to swim away Because you’ll be question by bird keepers Until the day your veins are able to run upstream You’ll leave the closet to only join the zoo So enjoy the field trips And the bears, and the otters And learn to question the birds and the bees It’s okay to only want birds on birds, bees on bees It’s okay to want to try **** And it’s okay to want to stay as far away as possible To think about *** at sixteen and keep that sweet composure One day the reflection on the glass isn’t going to match The second grade smile behind it Frame yourself however you may choose It’s okay to have purple hair We all make mistakes Don't feel guilty for being too scared to tell your mother Your whole life, people have been trying to build you in the wrong direction They aren’t going to understand what it feels like To simply just wear Eyeliner, I understand, it’s war paint Or the kind of questions you’ll get all afternoon “are you a boy, or a girl” Your identity is not polarized Gender is a spectrum, not a just ***** There’s shades between the seven colors I fit in Recognize you’ll be lonely eight days of the week There’s no one like you at home or at school or work So step out of frames, Look at bigger pictures Every hallway is your catwalk, every shoe Can be your empire state stiletto Every **** ****** slur is compliment to the human anarchy inside your bones Your human anatomy matched with the way your mind things Is one of the greatest forms of activism And if you ever go through an emo phase, Be the baddest goth child you can be! I write poems for kids That fall between “boy and girl” I write poems that I wish I heard as a kid To tell kids to keep fighting Even though the war is not yet won There’s victory in every battle you tired
0
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
fish heart
I write poems for kids That too often get asked “are you a boy, or a girl” Because they are the only ones who Will understand the physical rush Of empowerment versus discouragement In their guts The question that verifies You have finally broken gender norms Unhuman. Floating in unearthly genderless celestial bodies “are you a boy, or a girl” Only to hit the ground faster than falling stars When told “you better ******* start acting like it” I write poems for kids Who have a bird cage for ribs And fish for a heart Raised on its ability to fly Look kid, you gotta learn how to swim away Because you’ll be question by bird keepers Until the day your veins are able to run upstream You’ll leave the closet to only join the zoo So enjoy the field trips And the bears, and the otters And learn to question the birds and the bees It’s okay to only want birds on birds, bees on bees It’s okay to want to try **** And it’s okay to want to stay as far away as possible To think about *** at sixteen and keep that sweet composure One day the reflection on the glass isn’t going to match The second grade smile behind it Frame yourself however you may choose It’s okay to have purple hair We all make mistakes Don't feel guilty for being too scared to tell your mother Your whole life, people have been trying to build you in the wrong direction They aren’t going to understand what it feels like To simply just wear Eyeliner, I understand, it’s war paint Or the kind of questions you’ll get all afternoon “are you a boy, or a girl” Your identity is not polarized Gender is a spectrum, not a just ***** There’s shades between the seven colors I fit in Recognize you’ll be lonely eight days of the week There’s no one like you at home or at school or work So step out of frames, Look at bigger pictures Every hallway is your catwalk, every shoe Can be your empire state stiletto Every **** ****** slur is compliment to the human anarchy inside your bones Your human anatomy matched with the way your mind things Is one of the greatest forms of activism And if you ever go through an emo phase, Be the baddest goth child you can be! I write poems for kids That fall between “boy and girl” I write poems that I wish I heard as a kid To tell kids to keep fighting Even though the war is not yet won There’s victory in every battle you tired
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63
Love's exalted totalty Adheres to a root singularity So an emotional showdown Can be an inspiring moment With its groundbreaking fireworks. We can name the new in the  now And flourish in mortalty Here where unity can destroy utilty And beauty is not a faultless concept. Nature is insatiable, Processing turning points, Using the transhumanity  ideology, But unrealistic optimism sets up cruelty In personal situations in the social vortex With our entrances and our exits Merely amusing a new alien audience. Raw human essence at a crescendo Verifies impossibility To have only been a past passion And we shall indeed transcend the unknowable With dignity and decorum And romance. With dignity and decorum.
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Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Untitled
Nature is insatiable, Processing turning points, Using the transhumanity  ideology, But unrealistic optimism sets up cruelty In personal situations in the social vortex With our entrances and our exits Merely amusing a new alien audience. Raw human essence at a crescendo Verifies impossibility To have only been a past passion And we shall indeed transcend the unknowable With dignity and decorum And romance. With dignity and decorum.
0
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
Untitled
When in love, take the precious time to draft out dreams on soft sand or temperamental snow. This verifies their possibility, Gives color to their cold cheeks and gives them new life. When in love, Find someone who will takes these plans and help you set them in stone What were only foolish dreams then Become your reality, now
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Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
Sand and Stone
It is a perfectly formed teardrop; or the gold of an autumnal leaf; it is the first apple or peach blossom of spring. It is the sight of a rainbow to a child; or the sight of the child itself observing that rainbow for the first time. A miracle is the sight of a loved one beside me when I awake. It is her hand in mine to still that ache. Yet Hume would have us believe that miracles do violate the laws of nature. O, so not so! For me the laws of nature are the miracle. To know that season follows season is the awe. And those who despise reason to favour faith are merely self-deluded fools. Not for me the accusation of the psalm that would make me a fool for disbelieving god. That I abandon faith and choose instead to reason with my brain thus verifies belief. It is as hard for the believer to abandon a belief as for a man of science to discard old laws. But moral values are self-evident. I do not need an act of faith to emphasise A moral code. It is enough to know that I am one with all humankind and whatever touches another, touches also me. I seek no vague salvation; no sweetmeat in the sky; it is enough to hold most dear what is simply “I”. We’ve wandered far from miracles, from acts of faith and such, but life itself’s miraculous e’en to a worthless wretch.
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
WHAT IS A MIRACLE?