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"vicinity" poems
awakening with the gradual rise of the subdued heather hued sun a palpable spectral silence permeated the air the anticipation of celebration intercepted by an enveloping phantom black malaise hiding in obscure shadows the terror of the twin towers final doom elucidated quivers of melancholic nuances rippling through the greying vicinity my birthday september 11th a tuesday my night to sing at abravanel hall with the utah symphony unable to serenade death our voices remained indubitably silenced in hushed wistful reverence ensuing 9/11s channel somber sentiments cloaked with annihilation while dark visions occupy smudged iphone screens this anniversary i will dissipate despair transmuting dark despondency splashing all with lucent petals of delight i’ll live this day with passionate intensity and those subsequent with equal ardor ferociously painting back the light i will raise my voice with effervescence and sing in wild abandon for my precious brothers that were lost demonstrating devotion through a refusal to be silenced by fear bestowing honor with a conspicuous message that love wins ©2016janetaylor
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Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
9/11 birthday
perfect simplicity so seldom does visit me that when it’s in the vicinity I bask in divinity I live for a line the curve of her spine her curves are divine with a bottle of wine the touch of her lips the swing of her hips savor the sips of a total eclipse
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 6:48 AM UTC
simplicity
That night, No clothes were stripped, Only Both hearts were split open. There was no physical contact Only for the first time Their souls met. That night, In the vicinity of pin-drop silence No words were uttered Sparkle in their eyes Conversed with immense articulacy, That night, Inside smiles And eyes Became their mode of communication
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
Communication
Book of life brings various mysterious chapters,one such spells my visit to village.. It was so awe aspiring, but no man's clock can be rewinded to bring that timeless age... I shouted in wilderness like the way toy means to infant's rejoice... my words couldn't jump over the peaks, bouncing back my voice... I was panting and cramps got better of me,pushing me to rest on flat limestone... But enjoying every bit of that pilgrimage and witnessing melodious chirping tone... I resumed my journey upwards but soon grey clouds triggered the quenching rain... Closing my eyes,i opened my arm,kids with cherry cheeks called me tenuous insane... It seemed as if almighty took me to the heaven, being surrounded by the flowery and green hills... In the east breeze those school kids were skidding down the slope with their paper windmills.. An aged shepherd was looking for some shelter,not for himself but for his lamb and sheep.. Such care, such love,that's why the wool machine searched the banyan where her master could sleep... Some urbans haven't travelled to such pictures just because of it's tech- remoteness.. Wish i had my own hut in the vicinity of woods giving utmost peace,but I'm hapless... Darkness is floating through narrow lane yet eye catches only citylight.. But wish i could dream again in countryside under shiny moonlight..
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
Once in a countryside
driven by a ghost possessing my body I lived with a mind a stranger with no identity a thatched soul, fake - no authenticity quivered in fear of people in my vicinity may they never discover the imposter - my entity.
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Dec 12, 2022
Dec 12, 2022 at 8:57 PM UTC
Imposter
Perhaps.. Our atoms were in the same vicinity when the universe was created; how lucky are we to, once again, cross paths. once again, To brush our atoms One against the other, feel the familiarity of "oh we've met before". The universe has fallen into place many times since I have glanced into your eyes Alas, he takes my breathe away.
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
The great perhaps
rite like Dylan/past the point of no return all my life wanted to rite just once like Dylan. but too set in the errors of my way to complement/compliment a master of the phrase, the original tunes I hum’em all plagued and plagiarized and yet pleasing head the Head over to the refrigerator, arrive in one piece, but totally not remembering why I came this way, cause i am way way past the point of no return Oh yeah oh yeah cool brother Corona light to succor the soul, while roasting body slow in a lavender bubble bath and it ain’t even noon and no no room for company, this solo wonder-boy tripping alone pay my bills in the bath, winnow the widow-maker reading list, good ****** on a free sundaey and there ain’t no football to watch and autocorrect authority don’t like ****** it only godded one D, as if He needs two D’s to mess us up better the Corona doing magic trick disappearing so fast and here i am certified past the point of return and there ain’t no more beer in the general vicinity so now the time to summarize my little darlings; don’t break beer bottles in the bathroom, don’t pay your bills in the bathtub when u gots 53.42 in cking, don’t take your iPhone unsheathed into the same vicinity all you will be left with is maxed out cc’s, messes you want not to tangle with, brain leavings of a bad poem half write, it isn’t even bad dylan mimicry but confirmation you passed the point of no return and u happy hum don’t think twice it’s alright it is all on my cover photo
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Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
rite like Dylan/past the point of no return
rite like Dylan/past the point of no return all my life wanted to rite just once like Dylan. but too set in the errors of my way to complement/compliment a master of the phrase, the original tunes I hum’em all plagued and plagiarized and yet pleasing head the Head over to the refrigerator, arrive in one piece, but totally not remembering why I came this way, cause i am way way past the point of no return Oh yeah oh yeah cool brother Corona light to succor the soul, while roasting body slow in a lavender bubble bath and it ain’t even noon and no no room for company, this solo wonder-boy tripping alone pay my bills in the bath, winnow the widow-maker reading list, good ****** on a free sundaey and there ain’t no football to watch and autocorrect authority don’t like ****** it only godded one D, as if He needs two D’s to mess us up better the Corona doing magic trick disappearing so fast and here i am certified past the point of return and there ain’t no more beer in the general vicinity so now the time to summarize my little darlings; don’t break beer bottles in the bathroom, don’t pay your bills in the bathtub when u gots 53.42 in cking, don’t take your iPhone unsheathed into the same vicinity all you will be left with is maxed out cc’s, messes you want not to tangle with, brain leavings of a bad poem half write, it isn’t even bad dylan mimicry but confirmation you passed the point of no return and u happy hum don’t think twice it’s alright it is all on my cover photo
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29
I fell in love with a ghost Upon whose grave I have committed great travesties She was silent and seemed lost And my feeble heart could not sustain her futile tragedies The tragedies of millennia past, gasping in in-articulation The suffocation of a future already always lost, without observation I fell in love with loving a ghost Who saw past my eyes into a formless ocean Limitlessly there, she sunk and she rose But alas was not of my wanting nor creation She who is of minimal infinity Taught me nought about nothing, nobody I only recognize that it was her that never wants me And I who longs achingly to be in her vicinity
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Jun 24, 2011
Jun 24, 2011 at 7:11 PM UTC
in love with a ghost
She sits there, frozen like a statue, fingers apart, typing on the running technology. Glossy eyes beneath her ever clear glasses, as I watched her I wonder, have we been consumed by lifeless objects? is this our future? Sitting lifelessly on the other consumer of our life, only moving to adjust her glasses, the girl sits there, eyes pierced into the ever quadrilateral brightness. The feeling of regret, it illuminated the vicinity from the sitting girl, yet I am doing the same, writing this poem.
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Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
The Sister I See
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance.  Metaphysical mystique’s  evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate.  Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive.  Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations.  Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis.  Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics.  Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime.  Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush.  Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply?  Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious.  Impromptu innuendo's juncture.   Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital.  Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies.   Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary.  Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties.  Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain,   propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued.  The question remains on the tribal:  how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them.  It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician.  Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it.  Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation.  Detinue perfective.  Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution.  Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare.  Unicorn railway nails.  Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
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May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
Astral Projection's Existential Hubris
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance.  Metaphysical mystique’s  evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate.  Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive.  Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations.  Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis.  Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics.  Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime.  Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush.  Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply?  Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious.  Impromptu innuendo's juncture.   Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital.  Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies.   Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary.  Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties.  Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain,   propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued.  The question remains on the tribal:  how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them.  It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician.  Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it.  Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation.  Detinue perfective.  Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution.  Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare.  Unicorn railway nails.  Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
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1
There's some leftover gasoline A few ashes too                     Inside my heart From the last loser       Who tore me apart You could use that        To light a fire in my soul                Just grab a match            Make a tiny little spark Love me right     Brighten my heart               Keep my flame burning    Treat my love Like priceless art               *All you need to do Is breathe oxygen in my vicinity To keep it lit*
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
Oxygen
I saw a picture on the internet of a sign That said “Welcome to Amsterdam. When it’s hot, please dress for the body you have, Not the body you want. Thanks" In the vicinity was a large woman wearing a pink crop top and leggings and the Image was captioned “Look who didn’t follow the rules!” I assumed this rogue internet commenter assumed that this woman, This beautiful, curvy, confident woman, Didn’t want the body she had. Why is it always assumed that fat people hate their bodies? I’m fat and this IS the body I want ********* I love this body! This body has ******* privilege! This body has enough melanin to tan easily in summer but not enough That I’m going to be unjustly persecuted for my skin tone. This body doesn’t get too cold in the winter. This body has a home and a family and food to eat! This body is ABLE to run and jump and walk wherever I want This body is disease free. This body can fit into a variety of clothing and look good. I mean it isn’t perfect - This body has had an eating disorder. This body has self harm scars, This body doesn’t always feel like it’s the right gender This body has lived through 4 school district changes, a cross country move, Depression, anxiety, a suicide attempt, high school graduation, Bullying, finding out that I’m queer, finding out that I’m loved, My first week of college, 16 days of living on a hiking trail Thinking I’m ugly and realizing I’m beautiful But I still want this body! It’s the only one I have
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Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
The Body I Have
I saw a picture on the internet of a sign That said “Welcome to Amsterdam. When it’s hot, please dress for the body you have, Not the body you want. Thanks" In the vicinity was a large woman wearing a pink crop top and leggings and the Image was captioned “Look who didn’t follow the rules!” I assumed this rogue internet commenter assumed that this woman, This beautiful, curvy, confident woman, Didn’t want the body she had. Why is it always assumed that fat people hate their bodies? I’m fat and this IS the body I want ********* I love this body! This body has ******* privilege! This body has enough melanin to tan easily in summer but not enough That I’m going to be unjustly persecuted for my skin tone. This body doesn’t get too cold in the winter. This body has a home and a family and food to eat! This body is ABLE to run and jump and walk wherever I want This body is disease free. This body can fit into a variety of clothing and look good. I mean it isn’t perfect - This body has had an eating disorder. This body has self harm scars, This body doesn’t always feel like it’s the right gender This body has lived through 4 school district changes, a cross country move, Depression, anxiety, a suicide attempt, high school graduation, Bullying, finding out that I’m queer, finding out that I’m loved, My first week of college, 16 days of living on a hiking trail Thinking I’m ugly and realizing I’m beautiful But I still want this body! It’s the only one I have
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31
We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss, Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles. We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple; Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused. Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration. We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures; “Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!” We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher. We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and, Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters, As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry. We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia. We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity, We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance, Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun. Every still is captured by a Lomo, Every scene arrested in sepia motion, Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.
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Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
In the Indie Moment
Where are my stone cold optimist Roll call all positive no hostages I feed of the energy in my approximate vicinity Then whole world will know an optimist   Gather your belongings and meet me at the rocket ship Yes truly I will be with the hostages taking roll call all positive Sergent! no hostages are in Thats work for an optimist Blood and sweat my middle name Thats an optimist riding a rocket ship Our heart beats so hard numbing our veins Thats a maddening fit But you know how sweet victory is for an optimist Take is easy simpleton optimist Real optimist be like oh yeah smiling in there hearts All positive not a negated positive deluded optimist The End
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Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Hostages and optimist
1411 Of Paradise’ existence All we know Is the uncertain certainty— But its vicinity infer, By its Bisecting Messenger—
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3.5k
Of Paradise’ existence
Infinity is finite to an extent of infinity, For rises it infinite and falls it infinite; But Time is the only other immortal born, That outpaces the pace of infinity, forlorn; But if Time was born and so was Infinity; Perhaps, they are finite in their own vicinity.
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
Time and Infinity
963 A nearness to Tremendousness— An Agony procures— Affliction ranges Boundlessness— Vicinity to Laws Contentment’s quiet Suburb— Affliction cannot stay In Acres—Its Location Is Illocality—
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3.2k
A nearness to Tremendousness
some years back, not too difficile to recall, revive and animate those memories of love and disasters, but the distance is comparable to half-a-dozen eighty day trips around the world, many frequent flyer  miles accumulated with trips to love disasters, interspersed with the days of shock and awe believing (sigh) that stumbled, fumbled my way in what we silly call true love, which is really the high of believing that you deserved the easy way, but now know, there is no easy way, and romance is a hard earned privilege, and sensory deprivation can  fool you, absence makes you vulnerable, don’t be vulnerable, stand up right, **** out, and eyes smiling but phasers on full, nonetheless… this not a downer, but a dis-claimer, even I claim the never be sure of the 100% foolproof methodologies for discerning the genius of genuine, when the risk is the reward maybe when your 22, even 23, you’ll be better at true discernment, but until then be wise, there is no saving the day, till your knees are scraped, and crackling and cracking heart seem like the same thing but they’re not do not confuse causality with correlation love is not your cause, be-all, or even the end-all, do the  work on your self to betterment 24/7, knowledge to be wiser comes with vive les expériences! and someday you’ll senses will be tickled, and the aroma of possibilities will arose that dormant hunger, and may be a correlation to another human in the immediate vicinity, a man, swimming in your moat without permission, then, check him out and maybe, jump in, once you’ve passed the red cross lifesavers test, cause the murk is murky, and is never fraught with just rose water, but jump a few toes in and if you’re still sinking, hell he’ll find away and give him the rope to help you climb a board, yeah, a broad tough as clear varnished nails with a heart radiating the nuclear fission of Strontium 90.
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Jul 13, 2023
Jul 13, 2023 at 1:31 AM UTC
Once was seventeen, not so long but so very far away
some years back, not too difficile to recall, revive and animate those memories of love and disasters, but the distance is comparable to half-a-dozen eighty day trips around the world, many frequent flyer  miles accumulated with trips to love disasters, interspersed with the days of shock and awe believing (sigh) that stumbled, fumbled my way in what we silly call true love, which is really the high of believing that you deserved the easy way, but now know, there is no easy way, and romance is a hard earned privilege, and sensory deprivation can  fool you, absence makes you vulnerable, don’t be vulnerable, stand up right, **** out, and eyes smiling but phasers on full, nonetheless… this not a downer, but a dis-claimer, even I claim the never be sure of the 100% foolproof methodologies for discerning the genius of genuine, when the risk is the reward maybe when your 22, even 23, you’ll be better at true discernment, but until then be wise, there is no saving the day, till your knees are scraped, and crackling and cracking heart seem like the same thing but they’re not do not confuse causality with correlation love is not your cause, be-all, or even the end-all, do the  work on your self to betterment 24/7, knowledge to be wiser comes with vive les expériences! and someday you’ll senses will be tickled, and the aroma of possibilities will arose that dormant hunger, and may be a correlation to another human in the immediate vicinity, a man, swimming in your moat without permission, then, check him out and maybe, jump in, once you’ve passed the red cross lifesavers test, cause the murk is murky, and is never fraught with just rose water, but jump a few toes in and if you’re still sinking, hell he’ll find away and give him the rope to help you climb a board, yeah, a broad tough as clear varnished nails with a heart radiating the nuclear fission of Strontium 90.
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49
Providing evidence to myself I sense boredom As adventure But solution to a rusty bolt Without smeared oil While unearthing self Before boredom detects you In the vicinity The environs speaks Actions are no curiosity To be nosy While others exist with their dealings A character brings passe' To detect But not evaluate The boredom Which leads to nowhere How can a heart stop pulsating? Only to have no charge
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Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
Boredom Menace
I had really hoped To forget you, once and for all However, it seems you are always hovering around Like an annoying little mosquito Ready to **** the blood Of anyone and everyone in your vicinity And looking for that perfect window of opportunity To mock my shortcomings Which apparently do not exist For your precious little "best friend" Who has a smug smile on his face Ready to defend you at the drop of a hat Of course, it will only be a matter of time Before you tire of him as well Because, people exist merely for your needs Which are about as realistic As Telugu action movies are Therefore, it is a huge irony That you were my first female friend Of course, I am not sure you understand What friendship truly means Because, you promise one thing And then proceed to do the exact opposite May God help that unfortunate soul Who truly cares for you Because s/he will be in for a rollercoaster ride Which will never end Until your delusional fantasies are satisfied By the time that eventually happens S/he would be dead Anyway, it was you Who wanted to be friends with me in the first place I, being a naive idiot Readily accepted your offer of friendship And was with you Through thick and thin However, you cut me off When you needed me no longer I apologised to you a number of times Not because I did anything wrong But because your inflated ego required a massage Alas! To you, I was nothing more than a problem child Whom you wanted to mould According to your whims and fancies I was never an independent human being Who could make his own choices And live his life on his own terms Your own Brahmin sensibilities matter more to you Than a friend who genuinely cared for you Unlike "Mr Smug Face", whom I had mentioned earlier You destroyed my self-confidence And turned me into an insecure wreck God knows how many more people exist Whom you've treated as "use and throw" Just keep one thing in mind, though There will surely be a time When the tables are turned And it is you who will become a lonely wreck Then there will be noone Who is ready to rush to your aid Because, you will be forgotten; once and for all As you deserve to be
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May 4, 2023
May 4, 2023 at 12:35 AM UTC
The Fake Friend
I had really hoped To forget you, once and for all However, it seems you are always hovering around Like an annoying little mosquito Ready to **** the blood Of anyone and everyone in your vicinity And looking for that perfect window of opportunity To mock my shortcomings Which apparently do not exist For your precious little "best friend" Who has a smug smile on his face Ready to defend you at the drop of a hat Of course, it will only be a matter of time Before you tire of him as well Because, people exist merely for your needs Which are about as realistic As Telugu action movies are Therefore, it is a huge irony That you were my first female friend Of course, I am not sure you understand What friendship truly means Because, you promise one thing And then proceed to do the exact opposite May God help that unfortunate soul Who truly cares for you Because s/he will be in for a rollercoaster ride Which will never end Until your delusional fantasies are satisfied By the time that eventually happens S/he would be dead Anyway, it was you Who wanted to be friends with me in the first place I, being a naive idiot Readily accepted your offer of friendship And was with you Through thick and thin However, you cut me off When you needed me no longer I apologised to you a number of times Not because I did anything wrong But because your inflated ego required a massage Alas! To you, I was nothing more than a problem child Whom you wanted to mould According to your whims and fancies I was never an independent human being Who could make his own choices And live his life on his own terms Your own Brahmin sensibilities matter more to you Than a friend who genuinely cared for you Unlike "Mr Smug Face", whom I had mentioned earlier You destroyed my self-confidence And turned me into an insecure wreck God knows how many more people exist Whom you've treated as "use and throw" Just keep one thing in mind, though There will surely be a time When the tables are turned And it is you who will become a lonely wreck Then there will be noone Who is ready to rush to your aid Because, you will be forgotten; once and for all As you deserve to be
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62
I've been focused on the end For a while My child, we'll just separate the energies Inside, disperse them to the corners of all time Our crimes are taking place in the vicinity My sins, equal to the evil I let in You sir, have resigned yourself to apathy Beware, the symbols on the idol in the chair Suggest that we are sleeping with the enemy We've been focused on the end For a while It's time to celebrate the miracles We survived, a wonderful experiment of the mind Enjoying the infinite theater of the Omniverse Tune in Realize the shape that we're all in Mutate to neutralize the symphony Our waves, those of the true and the brave Modulate themselves into reality
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Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Dr. Orville explains the Omniverse
Fickle Done in mentioned light... Through and due the common, the still Notice of compliment, a comment of right None The more we save, from the proof of simplicity Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy Amend Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel? The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal... Things And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity Arduous Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause When we are the understanding home, to a willing look... Force Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope? Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source? Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love... Caring True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right... Liberty Loan the call, to me for a universe's song Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?
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Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC
I Found James Dean, In A Bottle Of Milk...
Farce! False! Fantasy maybe. Even still, It’s far from fact. Fiction! I've seen more accurate depictions Of Love In abstract pictures. At least it’s fierce colors Show so form of passion Fashion! Artistic? It can be But this is trendy It'll fade as a Fad! True art is timeless Truth? It can be But this is candy Not fruit This is pop Not soul Technically it’s music Because of it’s movement But this needed no muse Only tech No chords Piano or vocal Only vocoder! Inhumane, alien maybe. But even the Vulcan Shows some form of fire   Folktale! Fog! The misleading smoke Shows no water In the vicinity Only industry The only esteem In this engine Is steam Gas. The closest thing To nothing Fodder! Deflowered. Devoured By self-expression Selfish innovators imitating life Forgetting to live it. ****
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Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
F+