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"waivering" poems
I love when colored salmon spawn And leap with ease over towns on high With rippling waves and glistening sheen How they bound between these rocky outcrop clouds And spread their whispy tendril fins Across the cascading pinkish sky I love the night just before it breathes Quiet as waivering gills unseen When the salmon color seeps into the sky
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Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
Salmon In The Sky
Taking a deep drag from a Chillum, I gazed at its structure made of pure soil and water. I do that every time I decide to take a ride into space. Closing my eyes I take a drag to burn all the herb, And the smoke creates the scene my eyes wished to percieve, Distance to far away galaxies is hard to achieve, But hyperdrive makes it a bit easier, I love its grace. I catch the speed of light, Ive made a slight change in the drive systems a year before. All this for what.? To touch the fading past and bring it back to life. If I raise my speed even by 1 mm per second now I will be faster than light, Oh but look, Theres comes a black hole, It wants to hold me in its grasp.!! But hey devil, I am fast, But then the stars laugh, And then the mirror like nebula at a safe distance from the black hole, But Enormous enough to show my reflection, Shows me that I am stagnant in the gravity of the black matter. **** I didnt take with me the machine to soak energy from antimatter. Even after this speed when I was so close to touch the waivering past, Plans were at the point to undergo failure without a plan be to save it, To touch the before and come again into now was the decision, At this frightening moment I laugh at my frivolous precision, All that i can do now are three things, Stay stagnant here with this speed, Slow down and end up giving myself in the gravity of black hole, Or boost ahead to stay in the past forever. Fate and time tease me creating this sarcastic moment and enjoy this entertaining view, And then I give a confident smile before opening my eyes, sitting in the present, saying, "That was so close. PHEW.!"
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
Time & Fate VS Mr. Frivolous
Taking a deep drag from a Chillum, I gazed at its structure made of pure soil and water. I do that every time I decide to take a ride into space. Closing my eyes I take a drag to burn all the herb, And the smoke creates the scene my eyes wished to percieve, Distance to far away galaxies is hard to achieve, But hyperdrive makes it a bit easier, I love its grace. I catch the speed of light, Ive made a slight change in the drive systems a year before. All this for what.? To touch the fading past and bring it back to life. If I raise my speed even by 1 mm per second now I will be faster than light, Oh but look, Theres comes a black hole, It wants to hold me in its grasp.!! But hey devil, I am fast, But then the stars laugh, And then the mirror like nebula at a safe distance from the black hole, But Enormous enough to show my reflection, Shows me that I am stagnant in the gravity of the black matter. **** I didnt take with me the machine to soak energy from antimatter. Even after this speed when I was so close to touch the waivering past, Plans were at the point to undergo failure without a plan be to save it, To touch the before and come again into now was the decision, At this frightening moment I laugh at my frivolous precision, All that i can do now are three things, Stay stagnant here with this speed, Slow down and end up giving myself in the gravity of black hole, Or boost ahead to stay in the past forever. Fate and time tease me creating this sarcastic moment and enjoy this entertaining view, And then I give a confident smile before opening my eyes, sitting in the present, saying, "That was so close. PHEW.!"
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28
Oh, how conflicted is the soul of a poet, for we yearn for nothing more than to share the deepest depths, our nakedness and rawness in the beautifully tragic love we feel, but how much do we try to individualize that that lies inside, to make ourselves stand out, for we experience the world in sensory means beyond the normal comprehension of those around us; how badly we wish for our word choice and alliteration to breathe life into the persons who never hopefully comprehend our creativity, for we are arrogant in our supernatural secret-keeping, in our mind games and manipulation. Oh, how I bless my soul, a poet lost deep in the depths of my own emotion, of my never-waivering devotion, to being the most uniquely recognized and desperately bittersweet wide-eyed doe that ever did aggressively permit the world to melt so fervently into a home within her.
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
The Soul of a Poet, the Eyes of a Doe
Sometimes after I've been sitting with her a while, I swear she calls to me. I am sprung off of her obscene beauty, under the influence of her grandiose blues. The crush of her might upon the anchored cascades into the mist of syllables, Her fawning noblemen hold their waivering arms out beckoning me. She roars with tumultuous lust; she for I, and I for her. I don't know how much longer I can resist her request that I fling myself from this loose soil into her rapturous grasp and allow her to envelope what remains.
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
Ebb and Flow
Red is unique. Red is love, But also anger. It's passion. I've dyed my hair red 5 times and my father says, "You're being fake." I am a force to be reckoned with, I do not answer to fake Red is unique and he doesn't see this. You can't make purple a natural color for hair And you can't make brown an unnatural color But you can soak me in ginger And make me a glorious fire truck Let me will rain on others. When I started wearing makeup It was a passion I couldn't afford So I ignored it. I would hide in the bathrooms though with the few things I could buy myself And I'd mock my Father. Red lipstick made me a ***** I didn't wear it in public, But on that bathroom floor I flaunted it. Pink didn't look right on me And purple made my teeth look yellow. Red was bold though. No one misses red lipstick, Not even on an unfamiliar face. Red's not my favorite color Or anything. But everything I do will always be red. Red will hold my hate. Red will show my compassion for anyone who was kind And lent more than a judging glance I am a thousand different waivering things, But red will always be me.
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
Red
He saw... an over made-up clown, eyes caked in shadow, lips redder than reality, cheeks on fire. She was... hiding the pain of her appearance, trying to look like the "norm", feeling hideous and needing a mask. He heard... her voice shrill and loud, her attitudes obtrusive, her opinions waivering with the crowd. She was... desperate to be noticed, drowning in self-doubt, craving reassurance, acceptance. He felt... she was cold and callous, harsh with her words, dark and unloving. She was... hurt to the point of no return, a soul full of love with no one to love, no one to trust. He left. She was already gone.
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
He Knew Her Not
You are my wolf I'm scared, it's dark Hot night, humid air Thick with distrust Pitch black suffocating Not even a star to guide me Icy air down my neck Your eyes glow bring My heart beats faster The forest rustles Whispering warnings "This feels like doom" Trust forever waivering Stomach butterflies Really just moths... I can't have you My turn to run away
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Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:42 PM UTC
Little Red
A waivering head With memories coursing though every finger A grip on sleep once lost Is held directly in hand Though it cannot hold a candle to the perfect dark But to pay the waking watchman's toll Over and over again Is no good for a weary traveler stead Instead it's said, once lost in dreams Such a peaceful hopeful magnificence May be never found again Let alone remembered upon awaking
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Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
Heads Nodding On A Plane