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"xxxxxx" poems
This is not poetry. I'm sorry to disappoint. XXXX ** *** XXXXXX. X'X XXXXX ** XXXXXXXXXX. OOOO OO OOO OOOOOO. O'O OOOOO OO OOOOOOOOOO. This is not ironic. This is what we are. xoxo
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
The Poets are Plant Food, All of Them
)       ( ( ) )   ( ---- (       ) xxxxx  xxxxxx KRISHNA   ! Bold YE warrior        COME ! Krishna   Krishna The fires of this  very night Gonna lead to a violent Dawn //// KRISHNA       !!!!!!!!           !!!!!!!!    !!!!! O Boys will be boys When they choose to be Men Look at all the evil And the ugliness Guess it's time to stop studying And to go and take the test • •• • KRISHNA ! bold WARRIOR                                               Come Krishna Krishna KRISHNA !
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Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
The Field
**@@@ @@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@ @@@@@ |||| |||| |||| |||| **          ||||          ** XXXX        ||||        XXXX XXXXXX    ||||    XXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX ON THE UNEXPECTING A BOMB IS SET IN WAIT • IT CAN SHATTER ANYONE RICH • POOR • SMALL OR GREAT • THERE IS METHOD TO ITS EVIL THERE IS FALLOUT IN ITS WAKE • THERE IS |NO RECIPROCATION| THERE IS NO GIVE "N TAKE • THERE IS ONLY SELF-OBSESSION THE BOMB OF POISON KIND IT'LL MESS 'ROUND IN OUR BODY IT'LL MESS AROUND WITHIN THE MIND • HAVE A FUNNY FEELING CRAZY BUT IT |BE TRUE • THE LOVE| BOMB DROPPED IS A NARCISSIST AND GROUND 0 IS YOU** SoulSurvivor (C) 7/20/2016
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
LOVE BOMB
5:00 am - Happy New Year! I look like I should be a musician not a poet. "It's so easy being a poet so hard being a man"       - Charles Bukowski ---- 5:14 am - Passing Rocklea, no sign of the dawn. Coopers Plains station. 3 people get on. Florescent lights cast a spell of sleep. I wish I could sleep right now. Eyelids droop like sad flowers  from a convenience store. I write metaphors like a drunken amateur. Trinder park - Sounds like a bad neighbourhood. **** ME ITS WOODRIDGE. Where even the McDonalds sign is ****** XxXxxxxxx, Xxxxxx Xxxxxx : She could be fun. So tight, she sometimes felt  illegal. Tight and bald. I would slide up to the ***** She loved it rough, golden hair wrapped around my fingers as she was pushed into the pillow. She was loud in the mornings. I could feel her tight *** grinding against my thighs as I ****** her harder  and harder. Until I came : either inside her. Or on her chest. Or in her prim pink suburban mouth. Tightening my grip on her hair as the hot ***** spurted against the back of  her throat. The head of my **** throbbing as she gulped it down with silent satisfaction. That only happened twice though. ---- 5:37 am - The Dawn begins to rise over the Suburban Nation. Final remnants of night twinkle like stars against the silhouette of society. House lights Street lights (and the omnipresent) fluorescent light. Beenleigh station - A pinch faced older woman gets on. Business suit, lunch box. Short hair, glasses. Her earrings are imitation mother of pearl (step-mother of pearl?) She  sits next to a window covered in graffiti. Prim, tight  mouth incarnadine lipstick. Over in the distance a smokestack cuts through the sky above the horizon. Trees do mask the sun and sky. "Hippies; they spend their whole life trying  to get to a microphone and when they do, they don't tell anyone  to **** off." - The Wolfman. ---- 5:52 am - One more stop. The clouds  are the colour of smoke against the pearl blue sky. ---- 6:00 am - Arrival. Clouds are tinged with fire and blood incandescently. You can watch it spread and grow with intensity. Taxi driver  was  a foul mouthed Indian.
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May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Brisbane Street Sketch 5
5:00 am - Happy New Year! I look like I should be a musician not a poet. "It's so easy being a poet so hard being a man"       - Charles Bukowski ---- 5:14 am - Passing Rocklea, no sign of the dawn. Coopers Plains station. 3 people get on. Florescent lights cast a spell of sleep. I wish I could sleep right now. Eyelids droop like sad flowers  from a convenience store. I write metaphors like a drunken amateur. Trinder park - Sounds like a bad neighbourhood. **** ME ITS WOODRIDGE. Where even the McDonalds sign is ****** XxXxxxxxx, Xxxxxx Xxxxxx : She could be fun. So tight, she sometimes felt  illegal. Tight and bald. I would slide up to the ***** She loved it rough, golden hair wrapped around my fingers as she was pushed into the pillow. She was loud in the mornings. I could feel her tight *** grinding against my thighs as I ****** her harder  and harder. Until I came : either inside her. Or on her chest. Or in her prim pink suburban mouth. Tightening my grip on her hair as the hot ***** spurted against the back of  her throat. The head of my **** throbbing as she gulped it down with silent satisfaction. That only happened twice though. ---- 5:37 am - The Dawn begins to rise over the Suburban Nation. Final remnants of night twinkle like stars against the silhouette of society. House lights Street lights (and the omnipresent) fluorescent light. Beenleigh station - A pinch faced older woman gets on. Business suit, lunch box. Short hair, glasses. Her earrings are imitation mother of pearl (step-mother of pearl?) She  sits next to a window covered in graffiti. Prim, tight  mouth incarnadine lipstick. Over in the distance a smokestack cuts through the sky above the horizon. Trees do mask the sun and sky. "Hippies; they spend their whole life trying  to get to a microphone and when they do, they don't tell anyone  to **** off." - The Wolfman. ---- 5:52 am - One more stop. The clouds  are the colour of smoke against the pearl blue sky. ---- 6:00 am - Arrival. Clouds are tinged with fire and blood incandescently. You can watch it spread and grow with intensity. Taxi driver  was  a foul mouthed Indian.
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67
x. understand that nothing is real. ** search for art in all that you see (for art is present in all things). *** art is everything, nothing is real. we are left to conclude that art is nothing, nothing is art, or perhaps everything is nothing-which makes art more real than nothing, because it is in fact something. xxxx. when we smoked cigarettes in the alley way during winter, our backs against the cold brick wall; well, darling, that was art. xxxxx. you made poems and paintings and songs and dances, but i’d never seen anything more real (or perhaps less real) than the way your eyes looked when they were in love. and that, well that was the truest art there could ever be. xxxxxx. understand that your love is everything, and everything is art, but nothing is real, or art is nothing. my words will never quite be right, but your eyes in love were the rightest thing that never existed -(or existed more than anything).
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May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 8:17 PM UTC
the law of everything and nothing and you and art
Place your gentle hands on my skin, take me away to a fairytale because I cannot bare reality. I know when we are twisted under sheets, it's her who you see. My body burns to feel you close and be your only one. Mask up my thoughts, I know she's there, but when you sleep with me, it doesn't even matter. One day you'll see, what I really mean, as you caress my flustered cheeks. I don't really know what else to say, just constantly waiting, for the day, you walk away
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
xxxxxx
It’s only a short straight hill (First Poem.of the Year) “I'm 69, newly homeless, and can't wait to start the journey of a creative life after being asleep for so long. It's only a short straight hill and I'll be on a path into a new life.” Jeremiah B Xxxxxx Jr. <?> it is 4:11am on the first day of a new year. a year is a unit; mathematically measurable, defined, calculable, divisible by seconds, minutes, hours & days, all artifices, mutually acknowledged. you, & others, remind me too easily, that the creative is the only path to endless, (a unit immeasurable) reinvigorating life. your fragrant optimium optimism is stun gun overpowering, the ill defined, but instantly understood, immeasurable distance, you foresee to life better is conquerable! ”only a short straight hill” imbues me to lift head, heart, arm & unloved dried ink pen, to pen, to unpack, to speak, of all that needs climbing, over the artificial lines of the first unit of time: a new year. thank you. Sun Jan 1 2023 NYC
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Jan 1, 2023
Jan 1, 2023 at 7:54 AM UTC
It’s only a short straight hill
Peter taking Mark behind the big rock in the park, pushing his peter to the mark; Mark screamed, "u're killing me," Peter said, "Be quiet, I'm almost done. I'm done now." Standing, "Now I'll do u," said Mark. Shirley the Squirrel lived seven blocks downtown up a cobblestone alley; there were men gathered in the alley every night Shirley would be upstairs; no one ever met Shirley b/c Sheila charged a buck less & didn't mind the hard cobblestone on her bruised backside Sol came to Lot's backdoor & knocked; what do u want, Sol said Lot & Sol asked for a beer; go get ur own, shouted Lot; ah, but if the Lord asked u for a beer wouldst thou deny him? Is the Lord at the bar right now, asked Lot, if he is I'll buy a round for the house; Sol went away thirsty never to know whether the Lord was indeed at the bar at that very moment; x  xxxx *** *** *** ** ** x  x   xxxxxxx ** xxxxxx *** x   *** *** x xxxx *** ** ** x x xxxxxxxx  xxxx ***   xxxxxxx xxxxx *** x ** *** xxxxxx x x   *** *** xxxxx *** ** ** x x xxxxxxxx  xxxx ***   xxxxxxx xxxxx *** *** *** xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxx *** ** ** x x xxxxxxxx  xxxx ***  xxxxxxx xxxxx *** *** *** xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxx *** ** ** x x xxxxxxxx  xxxx ***   xxxxxxx xxxxx *** *** *** xxxx xxxxx xxxxx
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
lovers in *****
I know your game You better be ready because me and Glynny Boy are gonna get yaa! Drew, watch out I know what your up to and you Bathsheba and you Swanson Lol jokesy I'm not a mind reader... I like Salmon and BACON sanni's Lots of love Howard XxxxxX
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May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 1:17 PM UTC
I know what your up to, guys...
do not ask me....? the level, reaction we have...? we meet, strangers? but..? trully happy to see you, speak, like we know each other....?before? life is hard, hurtfull, not fair and yet beautiful, amazing! glad to see you in the flesh, it did me good! xxxxxx
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Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
ships passing......
////  • ||      <>               /          \                    |           |           O Rest here ( Pain lingers ) ||| We laugh at the dying world XXxxXX The power that you are !! • (         (          you ?      or everybody ?          )         ) •• Be what you are THE IMMUNE  SYSTEM OF LIFE ITSELF The heart of creation Humanity Coming together To heal and be healed
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
still unborn
I want real friends not facebook friends real kisses not xxxxxx on line not vertical freiends not cyber games but real arms to hold I don't want a vertical life or love just to arms to hold me and to be loved and be a lover and a friend that's real and true
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Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
i want reality
. Was a girl I knew from Baltimore • SHIRLEY (?) ( yeah yeah ! That was her name ! ) "" "" XxxxxX We drink we touch we climb. High places for awhile }} Will the Mother of the Gods EVER appear ????? "" If you are not the SON OF MAN Whose son are you ? )()()( Just be who you are & call yourself what You want But I only make fun Of the people I love •• Into outer / inner space Dripping blood ( NO NO NO !!!! FORGET THE BLOOD ! BLOOD 'S FOR STUPID ANTI --LOVE POEMS ! // Okay ! Now Where were we (?) Oh yes // Into inner / outer space we all come Face to face with Buddha 's face & we know what He sees ! ( oh my god ! What He sees '! ) When he sees you or me --- On and on The spaceship ride Till ( in the words of JIM MORRISON ) We break on thru to the Other side X
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Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
.. starship stolen ! --- ( where can it be ? ) ..
Mary lived before Jesus but before she was a mother, god was god before she was Mary, Jesus was god before she was Mother Mary if Jesus is god & Mary is Jesus' mother & god is god, Mary is god's mother too ** xxxx ** x xxxxx ***  xxxxxxx *** ** ** xxxxx *** ** xxxx xxxx   xxxxxxxx *** xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx  xxxxxxx ** *** x xxxxxx ** x ** ***  xxxxx ** xxxxx xxxxx x xxxxxxx ***
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May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
mother & son II
XxxxxX :: :: 0 • • 0 ~ Refugees Strung out Cross the plains The death song sung by everyone •• ( we just wanted ----- to please ) • Where shall we go ? We don't even know Where we are Or what's happening •• Lookin for a Love Hey ! Sing that song out loud •• Somethin ta eat •• Someone ta meet out on the road •• Where are we ? ( and who am I talking to anyway ? ) • Oh well All alone ? Guess I'll just do it on my own Ain't one ta let anyone down
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
old man
Mxx xxxx ** xxxx xxxx ** xxxx xxxx xxxxxx ** *** xxxx xxxxx *** xxxx *** ** *** xxxx xxxx xxxxx x this is all that need be said quietly it has all been said w/ not a word we spoke & spoke as children fall asleep the poet spoke anon & she listened quite attentively to the sounds of industry revived in the rust belt; miners & dynamite exploding holes so I repeat ** *** ** xxxx *** xxxx xxxxx ** *** x xxxxx xxxxx ***  x xxxx ** reading poetry quietly in ur ear
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Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 5:43 AM UTC
Reading Baudelaire to M.
( ) ( ) ( ) ( \/ /\ / \ xxxxx xxxxxx she ain't comin back again No She ain't She ain't comin back Again // Follow Follow ( yeah ) Follow SHE AINT COMIN BACK AGAIN BACK AGAIN // If you got the Courage You can wander through the Mountains You can call upon All The Trembling Powers // You may Drink from the Sacred Waters •• She ain't comin back again But you may follow Unto the Mountains
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
boy becomes man
You cling to the past but with each day that passes you feel it slipping from your grip more and more until all you have left seems to touch you in the form of flashbacks deja vu dreams anything to remind you of what once was sometimes you wish you could tighten your grip before it's too late but it is too late the memories you have of that person of that relationship can't be brought back too much has changed too much has happened since then that person that relationship no longer exists so why torture yourself over something you no longer have any control over? because if you could go back you would've done things differently I wouldn't have gone back to *** until I was healed that way our second chance might've lasted a lifetime I would've left *** after the first red flag so I could look back and appreciate all of the good without all of the bad I would've given xxxxxx a real chance regardless of my fear of being hurt but I can't go back and neither can you so this is an ode to my past thank you for teaching me endless amounts of love lessons thank you for forming me into the person that I am today thank you for letting me have control in where I leave you and where I leave you is right here no further will you go along this journey with me I hope you understand
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
Ode to the Past
It’s easy to hurt, It’s hard to walk away It’s easy to run Harder to hide It’s easy to hate you Harder to fall in love These tears are the soundtracks To my good byes So why is it That when I’m crying Only you can dry my eyes We’re stronger than love That’s why it hurts so deep Eyes wide open I wish you were next to me I see you through the screen And I want to touch your skin Make you feel everything You make me feel within There’s a thin line Between love and hate You make me feel those Every other day It’ll be easier if you were Right in front of my face I guess that’s why we’re so apart God has given us our fate I know we’re not perfect There’s a lot we could work on We haven’t even finished the first page There’s a whole volume of books We still have to work on I’ve never tried this hard to hold on It’s always been easier to just leave But I’m telling you I love us I have way more tricks up our sleeves There’s no one in this world I would rather Work on myself with You & I have this sudden karma It’s what makes us go “Click” I think too far Instead of right what’s in my face I always want seconds Before I finish my first plate I’ll choose you Every single time You are my one and only You complete our true divine I don’t wanna work on this With anybody else So let’s just bury these problems And put them on a shelf Xxxxxx❤️ - I love you
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
The poem about everything and nothing at all
A formidable war, Waged to control and contain, To enslave and enrage. Engaged. xxxxxx Never ending, No peace allowed, This is how ..... To destroy and control. Puppets to a show, Lambz to the slaughter. Never again will they .. . Be safe. They made their bedz ..... To lay. Funny how timez ..... Stay the same. Itz up and away?? No. Remain caged. Into the ring. Until I conform again, To their ..... Agenda? No ..... I'll throw them all in the blender. Well ..... I ..... Already Did. They'll never see their ..... Actions, Until it smashes them. Scrambles for ..... Everything. You'll end up with ..... . .. . Nothing in the end. ..... ..... ..... . .
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Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
Formidable
) **** O *** ( xxxxxx /// • || <> / | \ /\ we shall stay together forever for we met in Reality // Everyone sees a different sun in the sky • No 2 gods are the same /// I don't love you because I want to I don't love you because I have to I love you because all there is is love *** Perhaps someday we shall marry ** When one marries it is a wonderous thing /// Every child is sacred We both know that That knowledge is a god /// We walk the beach sundown till dawn Every star in the skies knows us by name
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Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
and then some
( ) ( ) Slips away _______ The long boat the grungy pier the emptiness The boy still dreams of the mystic sea Sees the dying world ( Refuses to believe ) ///// //// I too am there ( You too in the shadows of the window above the bar ) //// //// We live in the **** of the great betrayal Come let's go /// Thru the red streaked death of the sky And the poisoned stink of what once were oceans To the power of the song so hidden but still here /// /// /// She has lovely eyes ::: Her ******* hang loveless in heaviness Will the young boy ............. (?) XxxxxX The tide of the lost time Slips away She races down the stairs and out the door Crying madly Calling forth //// Oh yes he waits Oh god almighty of course he waits
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
cry