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"wavered" poems
When you plunged The light of Tuscany wavered And swung through the pool From top to bottom. I loved your wet head and smashing crawl, Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders Surfacing and surfacing again This year and every year since. I sat dry-throated on the warm stones. You were beyond me. The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air Thinned and disappointed. Thank God for the slow loadening, When I hold you now We are close and deep As the atmosphere on water. My two hands are plumbed water. You are my palpable, lithe Otter of memory In the pool of the moment, Turning to swim on your back, Each silent, thigh-shaking kick Re-tilting the light, Heaving the cool at your neck. And suddenly you're out, Back again, intent as ever, Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt, Printing the stones.
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25.6k
The Otter
She was a prisoner, Trapped in the shadows of the night, Caged in the gloom of the world. She sang songs of heart throbbing emotion, And played melodies of continuous tragedies. She wrapped herself in life's desolation And felt the pull of never ending stress weighing her down. But she stood under the relentless pressure, And never wavered. She heard tunes of everlasting joy and peace, And never strayed. She found her way through the darkness, And never doubted. A girl once born in clouded adversity, Now blossomed in ceaseless exultation.
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
Break of Day
Like an alien in a spotlight With her magnifying glasses on My mother as she worked, up all night Did invisible weaving till dawn I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep Honing in on that hole in the suit Intently, her concentration deep Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute In other-worldly light she labored I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight Watching her focus never wavered Her face all aglow in the lamplight Invisible weaving, I inquired How tediously she plied her craft Worked for the money that she required Made the warp and weft of fabric last Reconstruction, undetectable No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight Weaving magic so incredible Its wound now perfect by morning’s light She taught me much that I’m still making From her life that now I’m grieving Sewing, crocheting and great baking But never invisible weaving The picture of her life that mattered I now see how she toiled so finely And that the wrinkles in the fabric Of my own life splayed out so blindly The vision of my eyes, bedazzled Incandescent, her face in the beam Unaware how her mind unraveled As Depression stole her ev’ry dream The threads of DNA defining Who I’ve become I’m now believing My mother’s hand in that designing Of my own Invisible Weaving* *In honor of my mother, Edla Sylvia Fitzpatrick, on this International Women's Day
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Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
Invisible Weaving
I bowled three games tonight. Possible paths to victory skipped rocks in my mind, Until the ball dropped. I won and lost. My face flushed. My skills wavered, Such a tragic player. A strike, a ball doomed to the gutter. What did it matter? When the lanes burst with laughter? Friends, arcades, night bowling. Fingers contorting. Strange shoes and watching feet behind the line. No passing it, no crime. All win in the end. Bowling alleys- hidden gems.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
Bowling
I did not believe, standing on the bank of a river which was wide and swift, that I would cross that bridge plaited from thin, fragile reeds fastened with bast. I walked delicately, as a butterfly and heavily as an elephant, I walked surely as a dancer and wavered like a blind man. I did not believe that I would cross that bridge, and now that I am standing on the other side, I do not believe I crossed it.
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Apr 19, 2022
Apr 19, 2022 at 11:23 AM UTC
peripheral auditory
you were just one man. jailed for infinity. you never bent. stronger than steel. oppressed from day one. segregated by your skin. you were never broken. stronger than steel. the odds were against you. against your entire race. your faith never wavered. stronger than steel. i walked where you laid. where you eat, where you ran. your land gave me strength. stronger than steel. your love was so unending. your hate, no where to be found. you saved a who nation. stronger than steel. Madiba. Madiba. Nelson Mandela the original superman. Stronger then Steel.
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
madiba
Relax the formality But hang onto legality While spreading the reality Of being lonesome and humility Showcase your ability It won’t last for infinity But don’t join the infantry Unless you’re accustomed to calamity un-wavered by insanity and have the bravery to protect humanity 4/5/09
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:22 PM UTC
Relax the Formality
We entered the holy city with palm branches to welcome Parading in as they sang 'Hosanna!' They honored Him as if He were their king As if He had come to set them free Oh how right they were, the Promised King, come to set His people free We shared in communion with the Lord and the betrayer On the eve of the darkest day in history Hate brewed at one end of that table While love stirred peacefully on the other And all of us living in blissful ignorance in between We celebrated the passover with our master And we prayed that The Lord would not pass over us again That instead He would stoop down to us and save us But we denied Him in His hour of need We slept soundly as He was betrayed by us Like a lamb led to the slaughter, He gave His life for another They beat Him within inches of His divine life They cast lots for his garments, and spit on His bloodied face No longer did they yell 'Hosanna!' to welcome their king, But they yelled 'crucify him!' to condemn their Divine Lord They drove nails into his frail hands He cried out to heaven asking why The Lord had forsaken Him He declared in defiance ‘It is finished’ and He passed on to death They threw a sword into his swollen side His holy blood and holy water spilled to sanctify the earth onto which it fell So silly they were, they thought that they could **** God That they really believed they could depose the Lord of all with mere nails But the sky darkened, and heaven turned away as to not see her Lord die The earth shook and the world changed Suddenly all knew 'surely this man was the Son of God' The once bright and beautiful sky turned suddenly dark The earth shook violently in disapproval that her creator lay dead on her face The warm humid air turned suddenly bitterly cold and dry For the promised Messiah had been defeated Death itself had victory over the world, and the world knew it was so There, on the cross, lay the Life of the World, dead The Light of the World had been snuffed out, and the world left in darkness The hope of all mankind suddenly vanished The steady hand holding the world wavered in mourning And darkness covered the seemingly God-forsaken earth Who are we at the foot of the cross that stood silently? We stood by and watched the promised Messiah be taken away and killed We reap what we sew, and will now live out our days in darkness Without hope we shall suffer for all time, a punishment fit for our crime We crucified the Messiah, we gave the Lord to death, we killed God For three days the sun did not rise For three days the world swayed unstable The demons danced in the darkness Hell was victorious Because for three days, God lay dead in a tomb.
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Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
Darkness: A Good Friday Poem
We entered the holy city with palm branches to welcome Parading in as they sang 'Hosanna!' They honored Him as if He were their king As if He had come to set them free Oh how right they were, the Promised King, come to set His people free We shared in communion with the Lord and the betrayer On the eve of the darkest day in history Hate brewed at one end of that table While love stirred peacefully on the other And all of us living in blissful ignorance in between We celebrated the passover with our master And we prayed that The Lord would not pass over us again That instead He would stoop down to us and save us But we denied Him in His hour of need We slept soundly as He was betrayed by us Like a lamb led to the slaughter, He gave His life for another They beat Him within inches of His divine life They cast lots for his garments, and spit on His bloodied face No longer did they yell 'Hosanna!' to welcome their king, But they yelled 'crucify him!' to condemn their Divine Lord They drove nails into his frail hands He cried out to heaven asking why The Lord had forsaken Him He declared in defiance ‘It is finished’ and He passed on to death They threw a sword into his swollen side His holy blood and holy water spilled to sanctify the earth onto which it fell So silly they were, they thought that they could **** God That they really believed they could depose the Lord of all with mere nails But the sky darkened, and heaven turned away as to not see her Lord die The earth shook and the world changed Suddenly all knew 'surely this man was the Son of God' The once bright and beautiful sky turned suddenly dark The earth shook violently in disapproval that her creator lay dead on her face The warm humid air turned suddenly bitterly cold and dry For the promised Messiah had been defeated Death itself had victory over the world, and the world knew it was so There, on the cross, lay the Life of the World, dead The Light of the World had been snuffed out, and the world left in darkness The hope of all mankind suddenly vanished The steady hand holding the world wavered in mourning And darkness covered the seemingly God-forsaken earth Who are we at the foot of the cross that stood silently? We stood by and watched the promised Messiah be taken away and killed We reap what we sew, and will now live out our days in darkness Without hope we shall suffer for all time, a punishment fit for our crime We crucified the Messiah, we gave the Lord to death, we killed God For three days the sun did not rise For three days the world swayed unstable The demons danced in the darkness Hell was victorious Because for three days, God lay dead in a tomb.
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50
My heart was found guilty Of witchcraft by my brain He dragged her and beat her Spewed his hatred for her Tied her to a wooden stake My brain couldn't comprehend The magic of my heart Why she never wavered How she always loved He started this persecution Because he couldn't understand I always felt her growing Beautifully and powerfully With every beat she won me over All I did was want to protect her But my brain called it heresy My punishment was to watch As he burned her alive I heard the shrieks of hope die The smell of her love stung My nostrils and it haunts me still I walk around pretending As if nothing had ever happened My brain condemned me to live This life without my heart Without the love and only With the memory of that night Every day I burn like she did As every day I hate like he did I was unable to convince him That she just wanted to love But my brain was too afraid Of the powers of my heart
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
The Witch, The Persecutor and The Heretic
I treated my skin like a goddess Legs shaved, hands moisturized, Any spot of acne scrubbed away and covered over with pale sheets But I hid from my spine, like a snake always a few inches behind me, waiting to strike This skin there was a poorly applied veneer, Exaggerating the flaws it was meant to hide The snake is in constant motion, waving an S up the core of my being, Displaying my instability It's curved, like the ridges of the Grand Canyon Only more unnatural, Un beautiful, More like a line you tried to draw straight Only when it wavered just a little too much, you threw it away and started over I cannot start over My snake drags venom along its body, instead of drooling it into a bite And he is always biting, So the skin on my back has never been touched Never been pampered, or savored.
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Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
Scoliosis
~            ~           ~ *Affectionate was your way of letting my worries disappear. . . How you put your arms tight around my shoulders. . . How tender your voice is. . . whispering words of comfort into my right ticklish ear abalone. Believing in me. Lovingly. . . Your ocean of whispering sounds. . .Wavered Deep,   deep love conection. Our      Free symbiosis enhanced by French parfume, evaporating from my occiput fragility.* ~                  ~                        ~
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
The Essence
this is the problem, you see. i hate orange flavoured things, but don't mind the fruit or the colour itself. i despise chocolate flavoured items as well, but will never complain if a whole bar fell into my lap. i cannot decide if it is the simple idea of disliking the watered down version of the original thing that irks me the most, or if it is something more. perhaps it is the very thought of a half truth - an illusion, if you may - that disgusts me, because these things will never be as good as the real, original item to me. you are the same, i have realised; years of sporadic vanishing and reappearing have not wavered my feelings for you, and all the people i have tried to replace you with pale in comparison. i might be capable of lying to everyone around me, but i cannot do it to myself or you. the funny thing is that you know this, as much as i know it too. for we are vulnerable as we are broken, and somehow deep down in the darkness where we sink we are guided by the same light, which always brings me back to you, and you to me. - "how have you been?" *i miss you in ways i cannot even begin to describe. i miss you the way sleep lingers in our eyes as the dawn breaks, and i miss you when our song comes on. i miss you the most when the storms arrive or when a joke is made and i turn around expecting to see your accompanying smile, but meet empty air. the truth is, i'm lost. i miss you completely, terribly, unbelievably so, and it eats at me every single day.* "just fine." i put on the biggest smile i can muster and walk away. (A.H.Z)
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
paradox
this is the problem, you see. i hate orange flavoured things, but don't mind the fruit or the colour itself. i despise chocolate flavoured items as well, but will never complain if a whole bar fell into my lap. i cannot decide if it is the simple idea of disliking the watered down version of the original thing that irks me the most, or if it is something more. perhaps it is the very thought of a half truth - an illusion, if you may - that disgusts me, because these things will never be as good as the real, original item to me. you are the same, i have realised; years of sporadic vanishing and reappearing have not wavered my feelings for you, and all the people i have tried to replace you with pale in comparison. i might be capable of lying to everyone around me, but i cannot do it to myself or you. the funny thing is that you know this, as much as i know it too. for we are vulnerable as we are broken, and somehow deep down in the darkness where we sink we are guided by the same light, which always brings me back to you, and you to me. - "how have you been?" *i miss you in ways i cannot even begin to describe. i miss you the way sleep lingers in our eyes as the dawn breaks, and i miss you when our song comes on. i miss you the most when the storms arrive or when a joke is made and i turn around expecting to see your accompanying smile, but meet empty air. the truth is, i'm lost. i miss you completely, terribly, unbelievably so, and it eats at me every single day.* "just fine." i put on the biggest smile i can muster and walk away. (A.H.Z)
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I want to be that girl in the photograph The one where happiness is etched on her face And her eyes are overflowing with joy The one where her smile shows her passion And how she’s so full of confidence The one where her expression shows her courage And how she uses it to set her ambitions high The one where she’s so comfortable being who she is And so at ease with doing what she loves The one where there’s no sign of fear Nor even a little hint of doubt The one where trust comes naturally And a fault isn’t to be found But sometime between then and now Life threw what it could at her And her confidence wavered Her courage was destroyed Her ambitions thrown away Her eyes left lifeless Her smile was forced And any love, trust or happiness was gone And she was no longer the girl in the photograph, The one where she was caught in the middle of a laugh Then sometime a little after now A realization hit her quite hard The girl in the photograph came to see That it wasn’t life that made her feel empty She opened her eyes and was surprised at what she saw It was her who’d taken herself down, with a mighty hard blow And she was the reason she suffered such pain So sick of it she became That she stood up and braced herself And made a decision that would change her life She decided: She was going to be the girl in the photograph again.
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Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
The Girl in the Photograph
My Journey once young i believed of a world made of ice-cream and chocolates i believed in air castles i dreamed of the tooth fairy friends was best friend forever for life long hair was important, weight unimportant dad and mum was super heroes the world was at my feet waiting to be conquered volcano's erupted wars came and went people died and were born poverty came and went governments changed i grew up, the chocolate and ice cream melted i woke up in a sticky mess what happened i forget the most important ingredient of all god my father, my keeper, my salvation and joy as it all came crashing down and storms whirled he held my hand even when i questioned my creator and accused him of doing a bad job his love and dedication never wavered thank heaven for that mercy i've searched my life time for unmovable inner peace and joy though i was a bad made when i could not find it now i know money cant buy only god the father can lead you to it only the father can restore my air castles, my world of ice-cream, chocolates, cappuccino and balloons i left he tooth fairy behind i was blessed with new better friends and my super hero's was re employed :) i am truly living my dream without the crowd, competitiveness, chaos and speed of modern life the future awaits my captain is at the helm what more can a girl ask for
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
me journey
I close my eyes for a minute, In my mind I slowly revisit, The memories of that house And how I use to be in it but we're coming to a finish I'm saying, "I love you both", And although I say it in English To the both of you it's foreign, Probably Spanish or Finnish. I tell you 'I love you both', Because you have both Been part of my growth. I tell you 'I love you', even if I can't come around as much My love hasn't wavered as such, and when you two fight, it feels like there's a tight clutch As I grasp for air in my chest Wondering When the bickering Will lay to rest. I love you both mum and dad, I love you the way you have loved me, And even if we come from A different family tree, Share different facts of biology, I love you no different As if you were my biological Parents, and it's apparent, that we share the same bond.
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Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
To My Best Friend's Parents/ My Parents - MUM AND DAD.
In Loving Honor of Joseph Wulf R.I.P. Christi Michaels  8-31-2015 ☆●♡●☆ Tonight my friend could not breathe Lungs ravaged from long ago Served our country as a young man Shoulders, hip and leg bones broke by the jungles below A Harley Man through and through JFD's became his Corps Never wavered in his allegiance to his country or his force One of the smartest men I have ever known Could recite passages from long ago abreast of topics from far and wide a history buff so knowlegable A brother to many, a father to one Devoted to all he loved A truer friend could not be had So very popular he was!! Joe was my protector as I was a wild young thing Was my confidant and chaperone starting at just 17 Accompanied the first date with my husband 30 years ago Gave his blessings that first night~ To my children he was Uncle Joe The older brother I never had. Blessed to love him 40 years My whole being trembles at the thought of losing him I weave Love within these tears ☆●●♡●●♡●●☆ ~Christi Michaels~April 2015~ Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved. ♡●♡●♡●♡    Ode to Joe   ♡●♡●♡●♡ This poem was written upon Joe entering Hospice. His sisters provided Constant Vigil and Loving Care. Joe passed on 8-15-2015 This was read at Joes Military Burial Fort Snelling National Cemetery Fort Snelling, Minnesota 8-31-2015
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Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
♡ Ode to Joe ♡
Like an alien in a spotlight With her magnifying glasses on My mother as she worked, up all night Did invisible weaving till dawn I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep Honing in on that hole in the suit Intently, her concentration deep Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute In other-worldly light she labored I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight Watching her focus never wavered Her face all aglow in the lamplight Invisible weaving, I inquired How tediously she plied her craft Worked for the money that she required Made the warp and weft of fabric last Reconstruction, undetectable No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight Weaving magic so incredible Its wound now perfect by morning’s light She taught me much that I'm still making From her life that now I'm grieving Sewing, crocheting and great baking But never invisible weaving The picture of her life that mattered I now see how she toiled so finely And that the wrinkles in the fabric Of my own life splayed out so blindly The vision of my eyes bedazzled Incandescent, her face in the beam Unaware how her mind unraveled As depression stole her ev'ry dream The threads of DNA defining Who I’ve become I'm now believing My mother’s hand in that designing Of my own Invisible Weaving
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Invisible Weaving
She stands as pale as Parian statues stand; Like Cleopatra when she turned at bay, And felt her strength above the Roman sway, And felt the aspic writhing in her hand. Her face is steadfast toward the shadowy land, For dim beyond it looms the light of day; Her feet are steadfast; all the arduous way That foot-track hath not wavered on the sand. She stands there like a beacon thro' the night, A pale clear beacon where the storm-drift is; She stands alone, a wonder deathly white; She stands there patient, nerved with inner might, Indomitable in her feebleness, Her face and will athirst against the light.
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2.8k
A Study (A Soul)
One step behind the other, I keep my eyes ahead. I'll keep myself together If I watch where I have tread. I'm sure I'm being hunted By monsters in the night. Not sure if I've been stunted, Or if this is their true height. But if the shadows wavered, Or gave way to my stare, I'd sing instead of quaver And stand with shoulders square. No time to sit and panic Or just wait for the dawn. Until I leave the manic, I must keep trudging on. Wait until I'm with you, And then I might break down. Take comfort when it's through, When at last pain makes a sound. Just save me a seat in the closet I'm fighting my fears now: Fear was the one to cause it, But I will answer how.
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
Save me a seat in the panic room
She is the sweetest The loveliest The warmest The kindest Person I'll ever know Who never wavered In the weirdest In the craziest In the wildest Moods and rotten days Who holds my hand In the the darkest In the scariest In the toughest Times I've ever faced. She dives the deepest She goes the furthest She fights the fiercest Holds out the longest For her prince and princesses. That's why she is The angriest And the maddest And the saddest When I keep settling For less than best. She cheers me on With a smile that is the brightest With a love so selfless With support so endless That never changes In every rise and every fall When everything is hopeless Her faith is the biggest Still so fearless Points to the Greatest Who is the Reason for it all She cries the hardest She hurts the deepest She's the most imperfect The most human person I know Still I'm using all the superlatives Because she deserves the best She's my mom And I love her so. After all the years of service Your mom deserves a rest It's her turn to be the princess And remind her that she's The sweetest The kindest The loveliest The warmest The noblest And that in all these years so tireless Countless lives were touched and blessed.
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
Superlatives
Fountain of youth runs in his veins, The man who lives in Sycamore Keep. His circadian clock had come to a halt, Rather than rejoice, he sullenly weeps. You would think that immortality is The pinnacle of human existence, All the time in the world and not a Single malady to be of any resistance. Yet there he sulks, the ageless man, Cauterized by the turn of each century, As loved ones breathe their last and Become a parcel of his fractured memory. But that is just the shell of his woes, For even with all knowledge amassed, He’s utterly aghast with the state of the World unwilling to learn from the past. Every crook and cranny explored, Every experience well savored, Now monotony for millennia to come, His longing to live has ebbed and wavered.   I was told by the man of Sycamore Keep That immortality is a curse so alluring. Indeed, a hundred cultivated years is Much better than hollow eons securing. But sir, think of all the riches you’ve accrued And mastery of all science and philosophies. Who wouldn’t want to have the time to mark The world and purge it from all its atrocities. Say no more, interrupted the ageless man, I applaud your idealism and optimistic delusion, But you’re missing one essential element -- Even as immortals, we’d still be only human. And to be human, is to be fallible. Let’s just say That immortal fallibility will engender no good. It'd be best to truncate our lifespan for the Sake of our survival, yes truncate we should.   And that’s all I heard from the man of Sycamore Keep, Who went on his way to his millennial weep.
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Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
The Man of Sycamore Keep
Fountain of youth runs in his veins, The man who lives in Sycamore Keep. His circadian clock had come to a halt, Rather than rejoice, he sullenly weeps. You would think that immortality is The pinnacle of human existence, All the time in the world and not a Single malady to be of any resistance. Yet there he sulks, the ageless man, Cauterized by the turn of each century, As loved ones breathe their last and Become a parcel of his fractured memory. But that is just the shell of his woes, For even with all knowledge amassed, He’s utterly aghast with the state of the World unwilling to learn from the past. Every crook and cranny explored, Every experience well savored, Now monotony for millennia to come, His longing to live has ebbed and wavered.   I was told by the man of Sycamore Keep That immortality is a curse so alluring. Indeed, a hundred cultivated years is Much better than hollow eons securing. But sir, think of all the riches you’ve accrued And mastery of all science and philosophies. Who wouldn’t want to have the time to mark The world and purge it from all its atrocities. Say no more, interrupted the ageless man, I applaud your idealism and optimistic delusion, But you’re missing one essential element -- Even as immortals, we’d still be only human. And to be human, is to be fallible. Let’s just say That immortal fallibility will engender no good. It'd be best to truncate our lifespan for the Sake of our survival, yes truncate we should.   And that’s all I heard from the man of Sycamore Keep, Who went on his way to his millennial weep.
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38
Elise and Romeo got on the bus. Elise carried a cake with a thousand red ribbons dripping like loose ***** lips, or so they appeared to Romeo. Romeo came on with a hard-on on his face, or so it appeared to Elise. "I don't want any other man over at my house, I don't care if he's your cousin, you hear me?" Elise let out a silver snarl. "I'm not playing with you woman." Elise's whispers wavered between razor-thin roses and soft spikes. "I love you Romy, but you're on some other, I ain't seen a man in a while," The roses that break the skin, the spikes that blunt the pain. "Oh that's how it is?" "It has to be." Elise carried the cake off. Romeo got stuck with the cart full of groceries, and three wheels missing, just dragging the thing. Elise strutted like fat ******* strut. Romeo called after her about other men, other men, other men that had been in his house without him knowing, he hated and loved her, dragging all the sustenance in the world behind him. Elise loved him too, loved him even when she was with other men, and that's the thing he couldn't figure out. Love is a hard thing to deal with for anybody.
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Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 9:52 PM UTC
Elise and Romeo.
*A trembling heart, may also cause a calm heart, staggered. That's what I'm trying to avoid. No. Not because I don't care. But I'm afraid, I might wavered. It makes me difficult, to let go.*
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
Avoidance