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"vocalized" poems
There is a consumer product demon in the trash underneath my sink. The other day, I tossed in a wrapper from a Quest 20-protein-gram nutrition bar and a hand reached up to grab it. Thinking I was daydreaming I pulled out the white plastic Rubbermaid trash basket; no hand, but the ¼ cup of Kraft Fast Mac tossed in yesterday was moving, undulating. It made a distinct voice-y sound like “You’ll like Mac-a-lot, so eat me!” Thinking this was just my overactive poetic imagination I turned to the sink. My JetZScrubber had wrapped around a spoon dancing in circles around the In-Sink-Erator drain while the Ajax Easy-Hands Dishwashing Liquid spewed bubbles in unison. Now convinced I took too much acid in college I ran upstairs where my dog Mr. Brown sleeps on his 44” x 36” leopard-print GoodDogBed. “Howdy, partner,” Brown chimed. “Sure is a fine day to go for a walk using that Halti multi-loop leader and Sprenger prong collar. Yes, I love ‘em.” I took Mr. Brown to the dog park. the one with the Safe-Steel chain link fence and the pine trees without labels. He pooped in the sawdust and vocalized in his hound voice. I could have sworn he said, “Glad I didn’t do that on the L.L.Bean Woven Nylon Area Rug,” but I wasn’t sure. Nothing moved except the wind in the trees. and I wondered what to call it.
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 7:09 AM UTC
SOMETHING IN THE TRASH
Suppose I was more agreeable Instead of arguing over coffee about politics, religion *All those subjects deemed taboo that neither of us truly give a **** about* Pressing my point like daggers against your ribcage Knowing the sweet spots that make you moan I would give in, applaud your cleverness, then leave for work You would be left wondering if you should feel insulted. of course you should As usual,my filterless memoirs have become vocalized ******* them back in tight and quick is useless Once freed, the damage is done But. they. are . just. words. the previous statement is ridiculous and the author should be shot Never could I slice you deeper, **** your private mind or lay your soul bare Then with the bitter, caustic, truthful edge of my observations You are just as vulnerable as the rest of them Barbed wire telegrams Frozen emails Ash and arsenic letters Cut you to the quick Delightful. But I like it better when I can witness the damage Basking in the upper handed afterglow of my superior ability to mortally wound For no bit of silver that I've ever found Was ever sharper than the razor edge of my tongue
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Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
Insightful Malice
i'm sleeping on the left side  of my bed to take up the space that you left empty  because you left me with no kind of backup plan i was left to miss you and you were left to wonder and in the end all that is left is left hand turn signals in the car i'm driving  parking on the left side of the road where i walked you to your door  and left you to go inside alone it was a fine first date  but i remember thinking  "i shouldn't have left her so early" and now i hope you think the same i got stuck in the revolving door into your old apartment building it reminded me of you i used my left hand to push it forward and felt as though this is where i would be for the rest of my time without you i left the building  without a vocalized thought but in the back of my mind the only thought that was left whispered "why can't i be right for once?" [holyoak]
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Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
i hope you're happy
*Even when I know they're but unfinished stories, accepted pain and acknowledged sorrys, virtual realities reflected from mirrors of a lost paradigm and engineered metaphorically vocalized  pantomime even when I know that they're not the end of the road (that there're even many more miles to walk) or even  blossoms of life within a spectral pod but merely a beautiful view of the vast and rough ocean from the calm of a floret mental dock through tinted glasses in pink of perception with utmost optimism a fairy born of refraction through a phantasmal prism even when the universe disputes the truism of a magic wand I still fantasize about holding your hand and matching with you through thick and thin for better for worse, against the torrents from foe and keen in turbulence of rage and storms of tears till we find laughter until the bruises of souls and hearts shattered find mending in the enema of our blending so we can have a happy ending even when I know forever and for always is just a true lie and we are likely to more than anything make us cry, I still believe in pulchritudinous endings, in happily ever after in you and I, in the beauty of wilting roses and those in the rain in sticking together through the pleasure and pain... Even when I know love is just a word, we can lend it every meaning we've ever dreamed I still believe in real romance, in the broken being fixed in forever being now and now being forever in never saying never, in you and I truth or lie, do or die... roads and bendings long as it's with you, I believe in Happy endings...*
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
Happy endings
*Even when I know they're but unfinished stories, accepted pain and acknowledged sorrys, virtual realities reflected from mirrors of a lost paradigm and engineered metaphorically vocalized  pantomime even when I know that they're not the end of the road (that there're even many more miles to walk) or even  blossoms of life within a spectral pod but merely a beautiful view of the vast and rough ocean from the calm of a floret mental dock through tinted glasses in pink of perception with utmost optimism a fairy born of refraction through a phantasmal prism even when the universe disputes the truism of a magic wand I still fantasize about holding your hand and matching with you through thick and thin for better for worse, against the torrents from foe and keen in turbulence of rage and storms of tears till we find laughter until the bruises of souls and hearts shattered find mending in the enema of our blending so we can have a happy ending even when I know forever and for always is just a true lie and we are likely to more than anything make us cry, I still believe in pulchritudinous endings, in happily ever after in you and I, in the beauty of wilting roses and those in the rain in sticking together through the pleasure and pain... Even when I know love is just a word, we can lend it every meaning we've ever dreamed I still believe in real romance, in the broken being fixed in forever being now and now being forever in never saying never, in you and I truth or lie, do or die... roads and bendings long as it's with you, I believe in Happy endings...*
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30
I realized one of the peacekeepers tonight And, as always, I spoke honestly But against tendency, I was specific -Maybe it was the drunken haze, but the vision had so much clarity I spoke words to him, that formed without thought, nor doubt of mind And when these naturals were vocalized, there was no need to speak uncertainty of that what was said - in fact, these words, alike these at the making of my fingertips Felt as though their mortality through speech or visibility, gave them truth that me or my subconscious could question. This drunken conversation that was in obedience to circumstances Was extreme and unnaturally passionate Yet, disorbedient to sobriety, was fluid and understanding I feel now, possibly to be regretted in the morning, completely confident in the impact made He is good- as good as he is a keeper of peace And my words spoken, although never able to be retold in accuracy Affected me as much as I, possibly am mistaken to believe, he was to be But here, in this poetic security, I wish to share them He is a peace keeper, I am sure As we conversed I looked to the greenery around us and they showed no warnings Their leaves , as they do in sunlight and rain, continued to show love without worry And that love, I felt strong, and thanked as it kept my speech strong I asked- or even in my possible dillusion of high spiritedness, commanded, this man In all the goodness that I possess and could show To pass his negativity to my mound As I do to all that seek peace rather than create it You don't need to fight in this battle, my friends For your role, is one much needed when the time comes So save your fight, and save that energy For your light is strong, and crucial for darker times to come Should this message, this realization raise alarm And the puppeteers ask of you those sins frequently ask, Don't worry, don't hesitate, don't fight against their orders Just breathe, sigh even, and act as you always have I see your hearts I feel that love long forgotten The fact that you don't want to obey is in fact in our favor Because we all know, deceit is their favorite game But this deceit is the beginning of their downfall As your want to avoid passing me the negativity, will unnaturally cause them to cast it in rebellion But I am strong, and my strength is yet to show I have your back, because I know you will soon have mine.
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Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 2:02 PM UTC
I found something
I realized one of the peacekeepers tonight And, as always, I spoke honestly But against tendency, I was specific -Maybe it was the drunken haze, but the vision had so much clarity I spoke words to him, that formed without thought, nor doubt of mind And when these naturals were vocalized, there was no need to speak uncertainty of that what was said - in fact, these words, alike these at the making of my fingertips Felt as though their mortality through speech or visibility, gave them truth that me or my subconscious could question. This drunken conversation that was in obedience to circumstances Was extreme and unnaturally passionate Yet, disorbedient to sobriety, was fluid and understanding I feel now, possibly to be regretted in the morning, completely confident in the impact made He is good- as good as he is a keeper of peace And my words spoken, although never able to be retold in accuracy Affected me as much as I, possibly am mistaken to believe, he was to be But here, in this poetic security, I wish to share them He is a peace keeper, I am sure As we conversed I looked to the greenery around us and they showed no warnings Their leaves , as they do in sunlight and rain, continued to show love without worry And that love, I felt strong, and thanked as it kept my speech strong I asked- or even in my possible dillusion of high spiritedness, commanded, this man In all the goodness that I possess and could show To pass his negativity to my mound As I do to all that seek peace rather than create it You don't need to fight in this battle, my friends For your role, is one much needed when the time comes So save your fight, and save that energy For your light is strong, and crucial for darker times to come Should this message, this realization raise alarm And the puppeteers ask of you those sins frequently ask, Don't worry, don't hesitate, don't fight against their orders Just breathe, sigh even, and act as you always have I see your hearts I feel that love long forgotten The fact that you don't want to obey is in fact in our favor Because we all know, deceit is their favorite game But this deceit is the beginning of their downfall As your want to avoid passing me the negativity, will unnaturally cause them to cast it in rebellion But I am strong, and my strength is yet to show I have your back, because I know you will soon have mine.
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40
I was obsequious towards you.... opening up to you, I was an impressively sedulous suitor, Didn't I constantly show my love; like a doting concubine, yet never was I supposed to. Did things I'd never wish to again do, You were always lethargic returning any affections. You're  constantly an exorbitantly  cruel lover, on too many occasions you've left me; feeling, clinging, wishing & praying that your bitter tortures -  would end. Morbidly I'd crave you like a killer craves the death of his victim's. Oh there's no end, no relapse or realse, my tormentor, my seemingly drug of choice--is you! I  sincerely felt a cordial love & dislike for how you've had me susceptible to this elegiac experience. Unmerciful you cast away my heart and dealt my soul a mighty blow. NEVER again  would I be your willing victim,  you're  antipathies & archaic behavior  leaves me wishing for a way out, since you've made me seem more like the enemy. This love's a beautiful beast & so oblivious to my demise... I'm still obligated.... I've vowed to stay, fight comes what may...   yet & still You make it clear I'm disqualified before a race could ever be won..... Why? My questions unanswered as if I've never vocalized a retort! IVE COME TO REALIZE THERE'S NO HOPE FOR ME ☆♡ Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®          K.A.C.L.N ©      All right reserved ® Copyright 1977 - Present
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
♡☆THERE'S NO HOPE FOR ME☆♡
I looked between the sheets to see if I could see your feet Something that once was there; disappeared Couldn't even find a single hair; For proof you were there Must have vanished in mid-air Amongst the others who were just as fair But managed to lay their head in another home Who laid comfortably beside others bones For proof you were scared Now there's a lie wrapped around your finger Married to another but your feeling still linger; Your smile still flickers as I look in the mirror Where I used to grab your hips in sensual bliss For proof you loved, then lied, then sailed another ship... Your ship missed port and now your bagging for more But how can I love when I'm ripped up and torn; Although, these open doors give me sight of fool's paradise; these legs don't move after you taken them as your prize Even when you left I still saw me on you For proof that my mind is delusional too Cause all this drama is emphasized by me Crafted by a simple mind and vocalized by a feign
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Left Alone with my Mind (For Proof)
I’ve once heard musings Of recitation reflecting an area Of negligence that should Never go forsaken. Now, it is through my dismay Which triggers my optimism To lead me to believe this Recapitulation has been Extricated through a Satirical voice. However, in the event That theses musings are In fact, coming from A discernible veracity, Then I have done to you The gravest disservice I would never Dream to impart. Allow this to act as my Expression of regret In this particular field Of verbal lavishing. Before the moment You were my salacious secret And preliminary to my yearning For parallel mutual devotion My capabilities of a Tactile sense of normality Were fleeting Forever consigned to oblivion Until the moment I Allowed the craving to coalesce With the collective. It was then that I realized The stimulus of my exuberance Was not a self-fulfilling prophecy. Rather, one brought on When we lay entwined Within one another. Further musings have been vocalized, Drawing sight upon the fact I am twenty-one grams lighter Than the commune. Albeit, these musings have Been satirical in merit, The inherent truth Is not controvertible. Thus was the preceding case To our amalgamation. You are the sole vindication I have a soul. If there has ever Been inequity In my necessity to Opulent you with My own verbal musings I do hope this Can act as verbatim If there should be Any negligence within This particular field of Expertise.
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
Secret no more (Secret 2)
Smeared visualization distorted on my perceptions of what I see beyond this frame of sight, I am numb to the hearing of what is vocalized beyond this mounting. Palms etch silhouettes of my fears that became indifferent to the haze that consumed what once was luminous. Now jaded reflections turn inwards and devour the glass now cracked. Pristine architecture now squandered in reflective doubts. Dilapidation of what held perceptions of fleeting sights. Apprehension now seen in others eyes, adorned beyond perceptions looking inwards
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May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Glass As Seen From Another Frame
In the darkness of this moon Mist it rises This carcass looms. Wakened eyes, where is my mind? Cheery lies vocalized to soon. But still I rise, Dead feet do drag And weathered hands do light this *** Descending down the dreary land I cross the fog with teary-gag But on the line where eyes discern The atmosphere meets horizon's turn Another cycle gone and burned, Something new comes, pondered, learned. I lose the weight My shoulders burdened I feel them lift up off my soul One after other, My body's limbs Do dissipate with ***** winds When sun does choose to show it's face My own is gone, My soul's in place To you my friend, With hopes demised: Happiness Is not a race.
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Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Zombie
I hear the moon singing out your name. Every night. I see the sun radiating your smile. Every day. The stars remind me of your beautiful eyes sparkling every time I see them. The rain embraces me with your scent. The night sky and all the constellations lingering, portray your beautifully carved face. Mother nature hums your voice, the one vocalized perfectly every time you say something. And yes, every single thing around me brings me back to you.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
In The End, Everything Leads Me To You
The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals that you rhymed incoherently that were                                                      collected in lyrical a doggy bag. I will not fall on a sword of those that ignore my verse that fall on the page, do you know why I write in diverse motions? Do you know my demons the voices that verse inwards on the white of my skull? my reflections reverse. The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals that you rhymed incoherently that were                                                      collected in lyrical a doggy bag. But excrement can be rhymed in free verse, I'm doing this for me but I don't linger to impress! I word for my emotions are a hurricane and I'm the eye calm but I swim in the abyss. The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals that you rhymed incoherently that were                                                      collected in lyrical a doggy bag. I'm vocalized to those that don't sniff the arses of poor vocals linger on excellence not the excrement of poorly woven yokels. Lyrics of verse are meant to move not stagnate silently, they are meant to be lyrics that move the emotion violently. "Weave the best version of you, not the diluted verse,
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
Weave the best version of you
The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals that you rhymed incoherently that were                                                      collected in lyrical a doggy bag. I will not fall on a sword of those that ignore my verse that fall on the page, do you know why I write in diverse motions? Do you know my demons the voices that verse inwards on the white of my skull? my reflections reverse. The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals that you rhymed incoherently that were                                                      collected in lyrical a doggy bag. But excrement can be rhymed in free verse, I'm doing this for me but I don't linger to impress! I word for my emotions are a hurricane and I'm the eye calm but I swim in the abyss. The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals that you rhymed incoherently that were                                                      collected in lyrical a doggy bag. I'm vocalized to those that don't sniff the arses of poor vocals linger on excellence not the excrement of poorly woven yokels. Lyrics of verse are meant to move not stagnate silently, they are meant to be lyrics that move the emotion violently. "Weave the best version of you, not the diluted verse,
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24
We left on the excuse of Wanting to listen To "Just one song". But when we arrived at the place That kept us from the outside We decided to go ahead and drive And I've never had a smile so big I was actually scared My face might rip And I could die Or we could drive off a cliff Or smoke a laced spliff It makes no difference to me As long as you're around Even if that means muddling through The week In our seperate towns Until one of us can come down For the weekend. And we're too loud But it's only because we're used To trying to bridge the distance With a vocalized insistence That we'll find a way back Even if it's back roads and red eyes and runny noses I know how it goes And I've chosen to stay When I would usually take the easy way I'd be out and gone But we're leaving together And with you I try to do less wrong. Last night one more song Turned into a vulnerable Sob And awkward consolation Turned to snot on my shoulder And the comfort of Human warmth. I would address how we should go forward But I know it doesn't matter I'll see you again And you'll catch my spinning head And I'll hug you And hug you And never get enough Sweet thing, You're the good stuff. 12.20.14 cem
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
I'll Be Your Cletus
Being unable to participate during the worship service is a poor spiritual sign. Unwillingness to offer praise, while standing in His Presence, shows a deficient of new wine. For the obvious silence reveals an apparent lack of Faith and failure to know God's design. A desire of heavenly passion cannot resonate from within, when not letting your love for Him to shine. For the true strength of one's belief is confirmed only by the spoken Word - Provided it's not diluted with some earthly whine. The tongue, always will unwittingly confess, the secrets of our hearts, to see if... One is actually striving for the Lord divine. Author Notes: The phrase "a deficient of new wine" is not a reference to the alcoholic product. It is regarding the "spiritual wine", which is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. When we are intentionally sinning, the presence of God leaves us, hence the deficient state. It should also be noted, that there are moments during the "worship service" where we should not be silent. When participating in the "song service", the singing of praises to Him should be vocalized - hence, the "spoken word". Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
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Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
Poem: Spoken Word
"I HATE YOU!" Screamed loud enough for the world to hear Stated twice just to make the statement clear It hurts but I try to always remember That she will for sure be sure To apologize for it just a little bit later Believing whole heartedly that should expunge her And wipe clean the ledger However, What's leftover after the vocalized slaughter? After the anger? Invisible wounds from the verbal dagger Hurt immensely as they linger They never heal ever either, They never scar, only scab over Still raw as the next battle gets closer The one I see in the windshield drawing near Is almost always identical to the one in the rearview mirror Only changing minor details here and there This is what I get for asking her, "Hey beautiful, what's the matter?" It's a cautionary tale, buyer beware Be aware, Take note of what you receive when you care Is it truly worth staying and fighting through the cancer? For the moment let's set aside the endeavor of defining "forever" I first need to know what the f**k happened to "together" How can having a partner feel so singular? ©2024
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May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 3:08 PM UTC
~•§•~ One Example ~•§•~
Wishful thinking is a term made up specifically to describe the feeling I got when I first saw you. Nuclear fallout tries so hard to mimic the way your hands feel on everyone that isn't me. Concentration camps hold all the parts of me that weren't made in your image. I forced myself to go a day without holding anything that felt like your hands & so I went a day without burning my palms or cutting my fingertips. Your apologies felt a lot like the ground felt in Hiroshima, I'm sure you meant to feign sincerity well enough for me to surrender to your destruction. A pistol bullet travels anywhere from 800-900 mph, and I'm sure someone could find a way to make that poetic. I could compare your love to a labyrinth, but I'd rather pretend that you were as enigmatic as the backs of my hands. The smell of burning rubber reminds me of all the times your skin touched my bed sheets. Your concern is as tangible as my nightmares; I hope you take that in a way that hurts you the most. **** me so hard that I forget how it feels to be forgotten. I hope I'm the girl your mother warned you about. I'm a compilation of all my mistakes and I just hope that I burn your palms when you hold me but I also hope that you never let go; I'm the embodiment of every dilemma that's ever been vocalized. Maybe one day you'll hear my name and lose your ability to walk. Your name sounds a lot like the first few minutes of D-Day, and the last few seconds of Pearl Harbor, but that might just be me. Congregations held in the palms of every hand you've never held. Your trust issues look a lot like my anxiety. I still can't eat on your side of the bed without choking on the residue your dreams left.
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
I'm Sorry For Writing Poetry About You
Wishful thinking is a term made up specifically to describe the feeling I got when I first saw you. Nuclear fallout tries so hard to mimic the way your hands feel on everyone that isn't me. Concentration camps hold all the parts of me that weren't made in your image. I forced myself to go a day without holding anything that felt like your hands & so I went a day without burning my palms or cutting my fingertips. Your apologies felt a lot like the ground felt in Hiroshima, I'm sure you meant to feign sincerity well enough for me to surrender to your destruction. A pistol bullet travels anywhere from 800-900 mph, and I'm sure someone could find a way to make that poetic. I could compare your love to a labyrinth, but I'd rather pretend that you were as enigmatic as the backs of my hands. The smell of burning rubber reminds me of all the times your skin touched my bed sheets. Your concern is as tangible as my nightmares; I hope you take that in a way that hurts you the most. **** me so hard that I forget how it feels to be forgotten. I hope I'm the girl your mother warned you about. I'm a compilation of all my mistakes and I just hope that I burn your palms when you hold me but I also hope that you never let go; I'm the embodiment of every dilemma that's ever been vocalized. Maybe one day you'll hear my name and lose your ability to walk. Your name sounds a lot like the first few minutes of D-Day, and the last few seconds of Pearl Harbor, but that might just be me. Congregations held in the palms of every hand you've never held. Your trust issues look a lot like my anxiety. I still can't eat on your side of the bed without choking on the residue your dreams left.
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17
Tonight of all nights. I am here with you. Clouds of smoke Squeezed together in festive occasion. Brown liquor, Swallowed in warm smile Lips a silky smooth. You magically appear, Gliding across the stage- Short hair, diverse in curve. Black dress, Singer, songstress. The maestra of all my desire, At first everything was quiet then you sing. You sing this beautiful song. Words filled with passion. Raw, heartfelt. Each word penetrating deep. My soul, my very being Leaving me. Spiraling in urgent need, This internal urge to jump out of my seat, Pulled by the tug of your every word. Vocalized by the depth of yours. These words brought to life by your voice- This beautiful voice. This song highlighted, The bright light shone against your head. Short hair, diverse in curve. Black dress, One side longer than the other. Singer, songstress. The midnight of all my dream, I came tonight just for the occasion. My face bright red Squeezed tight by fever. The pull of your cigarette. A residue of ash left of where I sat. Every part of me gone with the flick of your wrist. Tonight of all nights. I am here with you. The best of me lost among the crowd. Unseen Scattered in a room of dark faces. Squeezed together, Tight fitting building Brown liquor, Lips a silky smooth. Tickets for the next show months away
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Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
Months Away
Distant cows are humming, As the crack in the sky appears. A jagged black line, with white Snow caps illuminate. Pollution becomes Orange, gold and violet Explosions in the sky For us. Your hands, smooth and strong, Though you're well into year 51, Wrap around my Levi 501's, As we bend our wings back in the morning sun. As we bend our wings back in the morning sun. You are both beautiful and antique, Old as these stars are. Alpha and Omega... I forgot how long we've really been married. And I don't care how long 'til we're buried. This universe is our flawless design, We will be vocalized in the sky. Erase this constant limitation, Begin ascent. Let's make these galaxies our children.
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Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 9:44 PM UTC
NATIVE
The writer is scribbling with an act of such passion, but ideas can run out in an untimely fashion. Ecstasy in fingers only lasting so long, a poem in composition, some kind of song. It won't be forever until I have you where I want, soon you'll be mine. [You'll be mine.] Mine to flaunt. Your lips against mine, a show between lovers, those words are unspoken; letters read between covers of a book that has barely been touched, but in the hands of my other is where they are clutched. I'll let them be vocalized, fly and flitter like butterflies. A hopeless romantic with a great deal of gratitude, if the reactions I get are of the right attitude. In the end I really can't help how I feel, the emotions I have are far from unreal. I'm told to follow my heart to see what is true, therefore here I am following the road to you. It might be quite a distance, a difficult strife, but I've experienced plenty of those in my life. It's funny how just words can make me love you more, I don't really believe I've felt so ecstatic in someone's presence before. Even a whisper from you can make my cheeks flush. A smile covers my lips, it was caused by my affectionate crush. Now, it won't be forever until I have you where I want, soon you'll be mine. [You'll be mine.] Mine to flaunt.
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Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
It Won't Be Forever
Average aesthetics impressed upon the dreamers asleep with the television on. They are selling validation, the slippery crutch of the only comfort craved. Forget the details, we are ****** clockwork, counted on to come, but never arrive, where saying no to yes likens to tallying time until what you are chewing wants to be swallowed. Pearly white definition grinding moments into pulp for the insatiable, that never goes hungry. This is all of it. ****** *** and the rest. The patriarch in his Sunday best. The wild generation, rejecting the paranoia of their parents. The whole of the god **** world who copes with a regurgitated existence by selling narcissism. Ours is a secret we are trying to tell with our lives, when it’s realized it dies, causing mystics to spill their insides over silence, the answer that can never be vocalized. Lo emotion, the romance of confusion! The one thing that can have no institution, in our modern illusion.
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
The Talk
You asked me tonight if I remembered our first kiss. It occurred to me that I remember everything. Early that Wednesday morning standing outside of the liquor store with a man I barely knew, I remember looking at you and thinking "we've been out all night, it's been 6 hours, is he going to make a move or" and then bam. Hands wondered, people stared, breaths were shallow. I remember how nervous I was every time I saw you following that night. It was like a rush ran through my body. Was I still what you wanted? Was I pretty enough, funny enough, smart enough, good enough? I remember the first night you stayed over without my parents approval, without my parents even knowing who you were, thinking to myself "I hope this boy is worth all that im risking". The endless nights I would catch you staring from the corner of my eye. The night I leaned over and kissed you as I almost vocalized **** is this going to hurt". Or the first time you told me you loved me. The words cut through the silence as I left for work while crippling fear flooded my being. I tried everything in me to ignore it. Even the first night I said it back, meaning it with nothing less then everything I had in me, not to count the endless nights I had said it knowing you were fast asleep because I needed to gain the courage to tell you. Hearing you ramble about when we were going to live together or how you planned on growing old with me. You knew just what to say. I remember our first fight and how utterly heartbroken I was. I can remember the taste of your lips and sound of you breathing. Your laugh plays on an endless loop in my minds. Your smile flashes before me as I close my eyes. Your voice echoes in my eardrums. I remember everything. Your ridiculous snoring, horrible smoking habit, hopeless look in your eyes. It was a tragic love we shared. But what makes it an even greater tragedy, is that I knew we would never last.
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
Do you remember?
You asked me tonight if I remembered our first kiss. It occurred to me that I remember everything. Early that Wednesday morning standing outside of the liquor store with a man I barely knew, I remember looking at you and thinking "we've been out all night, it's been 6 hours, is he going to make a move or" and then bam. Hands wondered, people stared, breaths were shallow. I remember how nervous I was every time I saw you following that night. It was like a rush ran through my body. Was I still what you wanted? Was I pretty enough, funny enough, smart enough, good enough? I remember the first night you stayed over without my parents approval, without my parents even knowing who you were, thinking to myself "I hope this boy is worth all that im risking". The endless nights I would catch you staring from the corner of my eye. The night I leaned over and kissed you as I almost vocalized **** is this going to hurt". Or the first time you told me you loved me. The words cut through the silence as I left for work while crippling fear flooded my being. I tried everything in me to ignore it. Even the first night I said it back, meaning it with nothing less then everything I had in me, not to count the endless nights I had said it knowing you were fast asleep because I needed to gain the courage to tell you. Hearing you ramble about when we were going to live together or how you planned on growing old with me. You knew just what to say. I remember our first fight and how utterly heartbroken I was. I can remember the taste of your lips and sound of you breathing. Your laugh plays on an endless loop in my minds. Your smile flashes before me as I close my eyes. Your voice echoes in my eardrums. I remember everything. Your ridiculous snoring, horrible smoking habit, hopeless look in your eyes. It was a tragic love we shared. But what makes it an even greater tragedy, is that I knew we would never last.
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When his eyes lit up They glowed amber Out shining the stars in the sky When his lips laughed They vocalized a melody Harmonizing with the universe When his smile beamed It radiated happiness Dazzling even the sun above I should have noticed When his eyes dimmed They flickered chocolate Barely a candle in the dark When his lips quieted They whispered noise Barely murmurs in the silence When his smile dulled It reflected joy Barley a stone among gems I should have known When his eyes went dark I should have known When his lips went silent I should have known When his smile went cold I should have known I should have known I should have known...
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Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
Stubbornly in Love