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Poems about Contemporary
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See if anyone knows what this is about. I'll tell you in the notes at the end.
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by Libertydoll
157 words, 2 comments,
on Nov 8 5:23 PM. In Adult, Contemporary, Dark, Life, Hope, Thoughts, Society, Personal, Love, Lyrics
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What was it you thought when / You scourged your nails into my eyes and brain? / / Your so callous and cold / And oh so wondrously dangero
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The a sublime revolution in my head, / Everything the same, so alive but then dead, / With no pen could you and your hand capture, / The awe-inspiring, after burning rapture, / Which rides on the wings of middle C, / A seven then the opiate like
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This is the end of an era in my life. / Up to this point it’s been domestic strife. / But now I feel I am getting older, but not ageing one day. / My heart is getting anything but colder, / Trying to be the one who dosen’t have to pray. / Too se
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In a sky of baby blue / Lingers that one dark cloud / Souring that sweetness
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Beggars can’t be choosers, / Unless they’re&nb
by kookoocachoo
271 words, 2 comments,
on Oct 31 11:29 PM. In Contemporary, Hope, Life, Love, Lyrics, Rant, Rhyme, Society, Spiritual, Thoughts
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Poetry Soup / / Note: not to be confused / with alphabet soup. / / Making soup / / is the most / / like making poetry. / / Anyone c
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Preparation appeals to the obsessive compulsive streak / that sleeps on the whole quiet in my nature. / How I enjoy with somber pleasure li
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My Letter / / I got The Letter. / The one that God should have never written. / With my name and his base address. / U.S. Army seal solomnly printed at the top of the lonely / paper. / "Ms. Carolyn Sullavin," they said to me, / "We regret
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Your Letter / / You got that letter / sealed and stamped was your fate / Mr. Brian Sullavin of Troop 6038 / In your Red Sox shirt and hiki
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The girls with white washed faces / Stagger through the lamp lit street / Into the seediest embraces of / Someone they’ll never meet. / Th
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The quartet musicians: I marvel at their sync. / Small meetings of eyes crossing chasms of collaboration, / the violent workings of their e
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What if we are completely wrong / And life is nothing that it seems? / All the theories we cannot prove / What says they are remotely close? / What if all our equations / Just fit it all by chance? / The same chance that / Could create the h
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In early year my mind was filled, / with helplessness and rage. / I kept myself from growing up, / by constructing my own cage. / / I knew
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I am the shadows of the forest constantly on the prowl through the undergrowth / at any moment, I will break into a clearing. / Eternal twi
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I can't do it / I can't hold it / I can't keep up this fake smile. / Dried up and hollow / Yet the tears still fill my eyes. / I don't know how / And frankly I don't care / I'm trapped with myself and with my desp
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I step out of the blue-gray world of the office / To the yellow-gray world of August smog. / Greedy for my hour, begrudgingly-bestowed / My
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The hills in autumn are hawk-colored. / The wind flaps and screeches through dry straw, / burlap and denim wait to be stuffed and faces pai
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The Price / / / After some lively if not cryptic banter / shot across the produce store / through the fruit filled vapors and / among tho
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Are You Not? / / Are you not bored with this tired rhetoric? This complicit? / The dried husks of reproductions of meaningless sums? / Do you not digest them with such distaste? Such rancour? / An acrimonious sentiment as bland and unappealing
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You beat your brains on a Saturday night, / Pump it full of drugs and booze, / Do you do it to remember or just to fight? / Or do you do it
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She stalks the playgrounds to gauge the mood, / Reading the graffiti tags; they’re the news today. / - The desperate irony of a lonely epitaph- / White Ace cans, broken glass and empty fag packets / Is the decorum she can expect. / / Witho
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“Oh, you should’ve seen me” / “What am I like?” “What are you like?” / Her they come, the usual suspects, / Crawling in on a Monday morning. / Bleary eyed- they didn’t want to sleep too much- / And hang-dog, blood vessels erupted from the sinkin
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Here we go again; will that last glass / Dull it, or will we be up again for hours? / Lying here listening to the night time sounds: / A far off ambulance screaming past, / The wind outside ushering in the rain / And the fighting and vomiting wh
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I want to be a geode, sly and surreptitious. / Split me apart. Demosthenes open wide, / all serrated tongue and semi-precious teeth. / / I am redwood bark on a mossy floor, / dreaming of saguaro neighbors and / the stultifying Arizona clim
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Satan doesn’t have to come to me. I’ll go to him. / I expect to see him: waiting, massive, / writhing. / / I am too impatient for the bottle. / I chew through pure blue agave, / greedy for the gusano. / / Buffeted by protein, elixired,
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