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"voracity" poems
The beloved country Africana can boast of is Ghana. The manana of Africana black star is Ghana A nation rich in culture and natural pasture. Its nature reflects the creatures’ caricature We are black reflecting our true beauty. And we are packed with captivating ability. The typicality of our nationality brings unity. Who knows whether our safety lies in our variety? This unity amidst our diversity is our reportage. About twenty-four million are surviving in our age. Over sixty ethnic groups and fifty-two major languages. There are hundreds of dialects which are to our advantages. In W/A, Ghana records the highest percentage of Christianity… Yet the modernity of our sanity portrays minds of malignity. But the fraternity of our humanity builds our community. The variety of our morality and privity builds our society Who said Ghana cannot be capaciously superfluous? We have the very illustrious and exuberant resources. The elites and the voracity are harnessing the recourses. The destitute remains poor and the gentry linger the forces Our democratic government is an African paradigm. Our peaceful political regime is of no pantomime. Who of course would help us measure corruption? The whole nation would have tensed up to eruption. If not the gargantuan wayomelogy of the wayometer. Who knows whether the next tool would be attameter? Who wouldn’t love to be a proud Ghanaian to enjoy our hilarious fila and jargons tongue can employ
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Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
GHANA IS CAPACIOUSLY SUPERFLUOUS
The leopard and the lion chose to become friends, For they were all proud of claws on their paws They each glorified one another for their mighty, Ability to live on meat of other fauna throughout a year, They each admired one another for running speed, They each remained firm and loyal to one rule; Lions don’t eat leopards neither leopards eat lions. They felt warmth in their companionship without verve, Until the time they initiated a certain joint venture; To hunt an antelope as it was famed to be the sweetest, Again, there had remained one antelope only in the world, They dilly and not dallied anyhow about such glittering project, They both endevoured to set forth by each dawn for a whole year, Tediously hunting throughout a day, the lion doing a great part, Setting ambuscades and arduously sleuthing to orient on trail, The leopard severally fainted in the field due to exhaustion, On one eve of christmas day, the lion captured the prey, When the leopard was a sleep shivering in fevers of malaria, Their prey was a middle aged female antelope with swollen hips. The leopard was sparked to fire of life by a mysterious fillip, He boldly requested work, now to help the lion in carrying, The un-suspecting lion relinquished the carcass to the leopard, Feat of shrewdness gripped the leopard, he took off Running away with a lightening speed, the antelope on his mouth, The lion again began to chase, shouting to the leopard, To be a gentleman and stop running, for them to share the plunder, The leopard never listened, he craftily climbed to the apex, Of the most tall and most slippery tree, he perched at the peak With the antelope on his muscular mandibles of voracity, The lion remained at the stem, wailing like a toddler His family does not climb trees, not even a shrub, The lion wailed, using all styles of wailing, Pleading with the leopard to donate even an iota, Not even a small piece of antelope bone dropped To drop on the ground for the lion to taste, Human leopards are not good hunting companions.
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
A LEOPARD IS NOT A GOOD HUNTING COMPANION
The leopard and the lion chose to become friends, For they were all proud of claws on their paws They each glorified one another for their mighty, Ability to live on meat of other fauna throughout a year, They each admired one another for running speed, They each remained firm and loyal to one rule; Lions don’t eat leopards neither leopards eat lions. They felt warmth in their companionship without verve, Until the time they initiated a certain joint venture; To hunt an antelope as it was famed to be the sweetest, Again, there had remained one antelope only in the world, They dilly and not dallied anyhow about such glittering project, They both endevoured to set forth by each dawn for a whole year, Tediously hunting throughout a day, the lion doing a great part, Setting ambuscades and arduously sleuthing to orient on trail, The leopard severally fainted in the field due to exhaustion, On one eve of christmas day, the lion captured the prey, When the leopard was a sleep shivering in fevers of malaria, Their prey was a middle aged female antelope with swollen hips. The leopard was sparked to fire of life by a mysterious fillip, He boldly requested work, now to help the lion in carrying, The un-suspecting lion relinquished the carcass to the leopard, Feat of shrewdness gripped the leopard, he took off Running away with a lightening speed, the antelope on his mouth, The lion again began to chase, shouting to the leopard, To be a gentleman and stop running, for them to share the plunder, The leopard never listened, he craftily climbed to the apex, Of the most tall and most slippery tree, he perched at the peak With the antelope on his muscular mandibles of voracity, The lion remained at the stem, wailing like a toddler His family does not climb trees, not even a shrub, The lion wailed, using all styles of wailing, Pleading with the leopard to donate even an iota, Not even a small piece of antelope bone dropped To drop on the ground for the lion to taste, Human leopards are not good hunting companions.
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dancing on the sands of agony to the saddest song of apathy standing behind tactical amnesty with no chance because we lack capacity we can't advance in fantasy in rampant mankind's laxity this land is ****** by strategy a lack of sanity and demanded voracity a stance of disbanding amity we enhance the mass audacity with plans deteriorating rapidly we only last for a chance at catastrophe
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Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
the saddest song of apathy
Seeing such said-to-be veracity made spurious by truer voracity left me in a downward maudlin spiral caught in the gravity of pejorative thoughts. (They were right about you) Shown to be mendacious and meretricious with such audacious and ignominious cupidity that is, apparently, insatiable by external stimulation. These words are for thee. (They were right about you) A Mistress of Verisimilitude Sorceress of Perdition Goddess of  Rapacity Nugatory Luddite Fatuous Epigone Specious and unctuous Girl of gratuitous turpitude These puerile and rather flavorful words fueled by seemingly insuperable motifs arranged in a terse, inimical verse for a rather insipid person who will likely never even know of them, and yet; such sweet felicity.
0
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
Iterative, Incredulous and Infectious
*Cut me, leach this tumor within me it has festered into a separate entity with its own blood supply grown overbearing in  its voracity taking up more space each day edging me out of the picture entirely seems as though it'll devour me whole dismemberment appears imminent I'm only afraid of what I'll find a face similar to mine with two heads a cancer of your caliber, eating me alive cold, ruthless treachery of no denial ancestral antecedent, I'd prefer it dead set fire to your name in vain demon feasting decades after it will never surrender peaceably*
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Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
Cut
The wind blows in a restive frenzy, But knows not which way to go. Dead leaves caper ecstatically In the hope of reanimation. The lascivious earth wears petrichor; Craving for his touch. Her paramour with a tumultuous roar, Seems invincible in his virility. The grim atmosphere lights intermittently As the sparks of their passionate paroxysm burst through. The ******** tryst leaves him exhausted. Satiating her voracity was an arduous feat. What once seemed invincible now floats decrepit; Oblivious to the agents of his decay.
0
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 7:06 AM UTC
Tryst
I hope someday you may gaze upon your reflection and finally see the man you have always wanted to be Until that day I hope you may work tirelessly Fixated on your goals Lost in your dreams Your soul searching For its' tenacity Only seeing yourself With voracity Mercy and grace Til you may come to love And accept The man you have come to be A man you can respect A man you can face
0
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
Happy Birthday
fingers caress like etched calligraphy leaving teased imprints drenched... in shameless seep as lips sheathe its bud, heatedly erupting raging forth... upon tongue; its fragrance titillating senses, hands travel length of curvaceousness in hungered voracity, trembled peaks rise exploding fondled...
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
Fondled
I feel like I am on a train Watching life speed past me I only get a glimpsed of the view Before it is replace with another I pass busy cities and quiet country sides These pretty images guide me And provide me with distractions A bona fide offer to occupy my mind Then the train would go through a tunnel And I would be surround by darkness Out the window, I am faced with my reflection A grim ghost, staring into my soul Head filled with the meaningless That when I have nothing to distract myself I am forced to dwell on my thoughts All my misery pushed away returns Attracted like moths to the light of my reflection. They flitter about, rapidly gnawing my clothes and skin. Who knew misery had such a voracity. My reflection only looks on with apathy. Thankfully, this encounter is only brief. And the train comes out of the tunnel The sudden light banishes my reflection And I can continue to look out at the view Watch as I speed passed it Without thought nor worry For the moths have scurry away Leaving me in peace, for today Although this train is on a straight line It feels like it is going in circles Darkness seekers must be the conductor of this train As it won’t be long till I return to the tunnel
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Never-Ending Train
Insanity is what she is, Clarity is what she please, Mortality is what she sees, Voracity is something she ease. Mendacity is what she speaks, Tactfully is something she weaks, Alchemy was never in her clique, There kicks in her cavity. Calumny writes above her head, Casualty says around her dead, Pageantry living on her bed, Banditry was what she hid. Centrality was all she craved, Depravity waited for her traced, Fatality made her braced, Gallantly now she fazed.
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May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
Sanity
Ill be your lingering cigar smoke if youll be my quivering nostalgia, jumping at any chance to reminisce of the days when our steel frame would test its infallibilities to the sound of our anguish of course, were versed in this dance of discourse, this arrhythmic, energetic, emotional banter. We have performed these parts to a silent audience, and recieved a deafening ovation. For we own the stage, commanding our mimed patrons respect and attention. We astound them with our vigor and voracity as we dance our unparalleled folly, tangled in the valleys of our eyes. The dance will outlast our bodies, for the dance is more than we can ever be.
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Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Opening night
I can't believe my own voracity I sit here trying to think of something worthwhile to say Black holes gut the universe Sometimes, it's hard to feel alright When we're running out of time And I'll never be that young again I don't think I'll wake up I...
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
The Silent Vanity and The Howling Vortices
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret,Kenya;[email protected]) Hallo Mr food , allow me to salute you with Germany hello I will also hug you with American hi and kiss you with high sounding french romantic salut as I saw you on the table in one peasant's hut her shoals of children giving you a Kenyan Jambo, each of them ruthless and not exculpating you each chopping you off one after another biting you horrendously like a mutton in the canine of a male lion in the kingdom of noon day forlornly you were thrashed with no succour those peasants ate you like ravenous hyenas feasting on the ewe daily in apex of starvation where erred you to the peasants' sires for they look for you with one sharp voracity where will you take your body for a simple truce?
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
ode to food on the table
"Yeah buddy, how've you been man?!" "Let's forget that, want to talk about the things we've forgotten?" He looks at me analyzing, and perplexed by, my intentions against the blank slate that is my face. "Yeah! Right? Been trying hard to forget this winter dude, the snow is killing me!" Matt turns away, takes a slug and summons Vince over in order to order a shot of cinnamon whiskey. I turn to wheel of fortune and start counting letters in potential words when I say "I bet I've forgotten more things than you can remember" "..." "Excuse me?" He turns back with fireball eyes and whiskey in his hand and I'm startled by the voracity of his intoxication. Smiling yet totally instigated he looks me in the eye, takes his shot and states "are you ridiculing my memories man? You think you had it harder than me?" pointing at my chest "Anyone can see how privileged you ******* are." I shut up, turn back to wheel and practice my silence. He drains his beer and steps out into the suffocating snow. Beautiful snow. I imagine stuffing great white handfuls of the wet stuff into his face for all eternity. Is the snow killing you now BUDDY?! Lets talk about the weather MAN!! Tell me all about it DUDE!
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
*** 'r dun
Would you hold it against me If i said there's nothing found That i'll lay here and watch my dreams Embers, falling to the ground Would you hold it against me If i had no strength to fight And as tomorrow brings the war Still, no tears escape my eyes Would you fault it for its being A doughnut on the shelf Would you shun it's hollowness inside It still tries to make its sweetness felt For there are some that rake for dreams With disparity in the dead of night And others whose voracity The world feared and extinguished light - c.t.
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 6:41 AM UTC
Would You
rigor eros braids our fingers together sealing our hands, palm crushed to palm inhaling your breath as you exhale mine ravenous eyes devour all before them rhapsody reverberates from hearts and walls never ending thirst drives us always on draining the sweet, deep red cup of libido with fever induced voluptuous draughts driven beyond the delirium of voracity we ricochet off boundaries of carnality lungs heated to ignition by bodies racing to keep pace with limitless appetence minds consumed by hearts desire insensate to wounded and broken flesh love’s voice shouts in deafening collision time coils around consummation’s aura seeking us we are hidden between a kiss and apogee unchained from the somatic world locked together in amaranthine embrace ecstasy overwhelms mortality
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Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
Insatiable
Beside me on the table lies a small green stem; This stem once with it carried a lovely botanical gem. Outside the window yonder is a city caked in snow; Such that all is cancelled and I have nowhere to go. It's funny that this stem of green shucked clean and here laid bare Gets mention in this rhythmic verse 'bout all that white out there. For you see, my friends, that stem, to me's a sad reminder Of a time (and time again) to me, that's so much kinder. And now, of course, I have a day, no deadlines, dues, or debits But that stem is what remains of a stash worth several credits. A tragedy to none but those who also will partake; To me, a dearth that stonewalls my voracity to bake. Alas, I open this white page and 'ply my verse unto Lament for being 'void of green...what has my life come to?
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Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
A Poem About This Wretched White Day Without Green
limited by form enraptured by voracity they come stumbling forth a wave of alacrity the dead reborn graverobbed of their sanctity tasting life once more flesh called theyre answering
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
the walking dead
i wanted you more than the power of a natural disaster ravaging entire continents “yes” within milliseconds i was sent to pure ecstasy, a state of delirium, passion, mania, vehemence with our every shared breath in the ardor of our movements- the voracity i felt to induce pleasure upon you was boundless, is boundless the fervor of our bodies shimmered in streetlight illuminated glazes, and our flickering eyes shimmered with careless impetuosity for anything but inducing pleasure on one another the absolute delight that comes with inhabiting your existence is ample for my eternal contentment your beauty captures me, beauty like yours resembles the feeling of relief, the feeling preceding extreme pain when your body sends out a warm embrace throughout your body like a comforting hug from mother nature to ensure you that you are still alive, the pain is gone, and you are still breathing your beauty is warm and envelopes me whenever your benign eyes glance in my direction grasping around my body and then you blink, blink, blink i tear through time, lacerate every last second that holds us from each other there is not anything that holds me from you but wasted time, corroding away and creating a gap in time in which i am once again in your presence. all i ask from you is your lips holding onto mine, and for the seconds that i experience you to drag out across days and days.
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Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 9:55 AM UTC
Natural Disaster
I haven’t ever made promises, to leave them half-broken. I haven’t taken pleasure in possessions, which were stolen. I have never deserted the hearts, which I had once taken. I have never gone to bed with a mind, sinned and shaken! No matter how hard envy, fury or voracity poke, I never gave in, for my conscience was always woken. I can always stand without guilt – no matter when I am awakened. I may have been called a rebel, but that was cos I was outspoken. I hadn’t yielded like many, to the alluring worldly temptations. Though I often longed for love, and slept with teary eyes - all swollen. Until one day you came along, like God’s endowed creation. I began to love selflessly again, though I admit with much caution. I know it has raised eyebrows, sulky faces and contortions! This too will pass, with you by my side, to keep me patient. Everything will be fine as long as our prayers come with devotion For in God, I take faith and have offered our love as his token!
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Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 9:38 AM UTC
All is fine!
I am not inconstant, But forever evolving, Not closed off, But not always open. I expose my heart Only when the sky darkens. I build toothpick-towers, Tantalizing torments Taller than trees. Chateaus of cards Whose hallowed halls Visitors seldom peruse, And even more rarely see. Young and foolish and bold, Thoughts all over the place, I spoke like a shotgun. My opinions explosions Verbal projectiles Going off in your face. I lived life by moments, I existed only then, Only there. Motivated by love, yes, But also by pain And by fear. Each memory Of each moment Represented By each fallen tear. Now older and wiser -That's either a laugh or a sin Haunted might be more apt- I find I write Too close to the skin. A subtle blade, Flirting, teasing, Razors edge longing to dive in. Vampiric voracity Obscured by imperfect opacity, Seeking the vitality within. Yet, What ****** force To unleash? What uncouth beast Would I be? Devouring Ravenous, That which sustains me? Better to starve, To choke on dust, Than to make that first **** Dooming myself To an eternal enmity Against my own will. I've heard it said that Wisdom is the product Of suffering and time. But what dear cost, What dire punishment, When youth is the crime? So I'll try to balance the scales With love and lessons learned, And relinquish remorse to rhyme.
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Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
Growing Pains
I don't know what to be near me because I spent all my time, trying to survive the social voracity. Even with the ****** floor, everyone continues walking. The death of another man is nothing compared to the lack of time Such is the pain which we pretend to bear so that they don't forget us. Such is the happiness which we pretend to have so that they remember us. … well, I shut up in front of the beauty of my lands… I don't know how to be who I am, because long time ago I was hipnotized by the exterior of this world – and such is its vivacity. Although there's so much to appreciate quietly, I can't stop thinking of us. However much the sumptuous flowers are things to dream about, we should not forgive us so naturally, especially with so many open wounds.
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
Pretending to Be Human
I am a spoon in a cathedral extravagantly decorated yet, internally empty in the echoes of the hymns I exist, a manifestation of dreams conquered by divine intervention a minuscule cloud in a land-bound hurricane growing in voracity paired with destructiveness my God is a razor blade blood my only hope of absolution the last moments of sanity hope fades faith and violence inseparable eternitys mates annually ovulating giving birth to consciousness awareness a sword decimating free will at the end of the day, it remains we are no more than a rat in an electrified maze
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Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
A Spoon Surrounded by Knives