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Pandora dO Oct 2012
The little girl never looked into the mirror.
'They call me names,' she thought,
'and there must be a reason.'
She guessed she was ugly, hideous to see,
why else would they turn their eyes away?
So she didn't bother to see her reflection
and avoided all mirrors for years.

The little girl was afraid of the scale.
'They call me names,' she thought,
'and there must be a reason.'
She realized she must be too fat,
why else would they all ignore her?
So the scales suffered the same fate
as the mirrors throughout the years.

The little girl didn't care for friends.
No one stood by her for very long,
there was no reason to miss them.
She thought she wasn't nice enough,
otherwise they'd surely stay with her.
So a high and a strong wall was built
to protect her feelings during each year.

After years and years the older girl found some courage
to look into one of those dreadful mirrors
and her reflection gave her a nasty shock.
As for all these years she hadn't cared for herself
and her unkempt outer self hid all her inner beauty.
'I truly am an ugly person,' was all she could think,
and she decided she would stop caring.

The little girl grew up hating herself
and no one ever noticed her turmoil.
She stopped caring about how she looked
and just showered and dressed every day
as if she wasn't any special at all.
But her inner beauty struck all around
and everyone wondered why she was so modest.
© 2012
Marlo Cabrera Sep 2015
You know
they say that
you should be careful
of the
things that fly out of your mouth,
because you never know
how how it might land.

Just like
how airplanes
try to land on
gusty airports,
trying to
land on the tarmac.
There are chances that it might
just instead of landing
like a kiss of a woman on
the lips of a man she loves,
their teeth and nose get in the way.
Your words,
can land improperly
the airplanes that carry the best of feelings,
turn into dynamites.

Exploding violently.

Misguided missiles
that does nothing but destroy,
just like how the army promised us,
that this will bring us happiness and safety,
but
only at the cost of the nation its bombing,
leaving its soil,
turmoiled,
disfigured,
and produces nothing
But
radioactive plants,
we have come up
with a classification for it,
we call it
insecurities.

So don't ask me if I'm ok,
if you did nothing but
toss explosives at my feelings
cause clearly
I'm destroyed.
So no,
I'm not ok.

You
cannot stitch
tofu
back together,
after being sliced into two.

That
a sorry
will not be a substitute
for superglue,
using it to stick back
broken pieces of me.

So remember this,
that
the next time
you release statements
words,
phrases,
that you have the
power
disintegrate
the person receiving them.
Watch what you say.
Anonymous Sep 2015
To **** myself or not **** myself, that is the question
I face an existential crisis every day
I want to hurt myself
I want to bleed, to wound myself physically because I can't deal with my mental
The questions and thoughts that plague me every day
I wish I could expunge these idiot things that run through my head
The stupid ******* people that cause me grief every day
Those people are the people I live with
The people I love
The people I work with
Every mother ******* person
I wish I could live isolated
But not alone
Live in my own colony of people that understand me as well as I understand myself
I wish I could operate normally
Not over correct for every ******* small iota of every tiny moment in the ******* day
Why do I have to do everything to such an extent?
Why can't I just be happy?
Why can't I just sleep a peaceful slumber instead of tossing and turning for hours before?
I hate myself
But do I really hate myself?
Or the circumstances that I face?
This life I live is not the life I want
I want freedom
The ocean
The sand to catch these unshed tears
The cold to hit my face
And something warm to embrace
I want ***,
But do I want it for the carnal pleasure or for the way it makes me forget for a time these turmoiled emotions I deal with every instant of every ******* ******* day?
I want a partner
But I can't trust

I'm so alone
I'm so alone
I'm so alone

******* I'm alone
How do I fix this?
How do I fix me?
I'm so alone.

No one will ever know the inner core of me.
Someone save me
I wish I were dead.
Someone **** me
I wish I knew real life.

Human essence is the dirt of the earth.
We destroy,
We do not conquer.
We forget,
We all still suffer.

******* us all to the figment of our imagination that is hell.
Every ******* one of us deserves it.

Burn us in a firey pit and then crush our bones to make the cement that holds us all unwillingly together.

******* **** me so I don't have to **** myself.

Nothing makes this feeling go away. No one satiates this gnawing numbness I feel.
I am a black hole that devours every good emotion
Nothing to replace it inside this empty space within me

**** me
**** me
**** me
i so wish these poems weren't such afterthoughts,
words either labored, squeezed off a pained heart,
or a strong gush of stupid happy emotion as in farts?
neither pretty codified sonnets with essence in parts,
nor crisp, concise haiku's focused like targeted darts,
not the sophistried zen, oft hacked philosophic verses,
and the petty patterned words unmovingly affecting,
i despair for us to read a poem from brains turmoiled,
confused,unwritten words,unexpressed feelings,in divine madness!!
dance the unknown poem if a poem, to music uncomposed if music,
why cant we live them **** poems! so we dont have to **** write them!!


-every fellow being is a poem unwritten I feel, lets live them? Can we?-
Jamesb Sep 2023
Its strange how sound exists,
How silence fits around
The noise that may be far
Or may be near,
Yet always in the gaps
Within the noise
There is the sound
Of nothingness

I am noise and action
An assault upon the senses
Of everone it seems
In earshot or worse yet
Within the range
Of touch or eyes meet,
Close enough to sense
My inner turmoiled demons

Well soon enough,
Albeit not soon enough
For some,
My noise will diminish
My actions still,
And where I once crashed
About there will be purely
Blessed quiet.

Enjoy!
There are times when even for me, enough is enough
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2015
A reflection on birthdays, friends departing this world, and surveying ones life
~~~

this one poem is not lurking,(1)
turmoiled bursting,
shaking, quaking,
release aching

write it in droplets,
my chest speak squeaks,
each thought, a stanza,
each moment, a bonanza
of  the doled, muddled mix
of tremblings on this my extravaganza,
renaissance day of birth
upon this earth

sixty five calendars,
this space,
so gulf and so narrow, (2)
for what profit this man
for himself, others?

a Judgement Day of sorts,
where the man~poet is efficiently
prosecutor, defender,
judge and jury,
as is he not,
his one true
peer?

let his biases be betrayed,
his fault lines be paraded,
let his deeds be the unlawful legal coda
by which he is remanded

if found guilty of a ledger imbalanced,
more sins than glory,
only one sentence permitted,
life imprisonment

even the NYC weather
clued in and deity cooperative,
wakes me up to this advisory:

Overcast.
Slight chance of a rain shower.
High near 65F.

High near 65.

what portent this oracle,
a warning guide to this morass
of a contradictory, crevassed man
full of mea culpa poetic messes,
his old is his high...
or are these just winking,
birthday instructions from
an observer on high?

this space of years, this life,
so gulf and so narrow,
engulfed, yet so sparse is his barrow,
his first minutes of the day
a lean inventory taking,
for better or worse
as he overcasts a full review,
plus a bonus (!)
a forward progress prognosis

there is a fresh formed
Cain mileage marker upon his brow,
a check-mark scar,
resultant of his self-checkup
upon the tree rings of his tiring body

weeping only because a mistrial is declared
and no verdict returned
and he rises for coffee,
promising himself someday an honest resolution
before...

these the acts of
sixty five calendars,
of this, his-space,
so gulf and so narrow,
subjected to a now daily interrogatory:

for what profit this man,
his actions, his loved words,
for himself, to others,
to this world?


October 1, 2015
~~~
(1)
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1417203/there-is-a-poem-lurking/
~~~
(2)
but I can't stop
for each hour of the last 72
has witnessed a new poem
in-between
minute one and minute sixty five
written for you,
writing for life,
writing of this moment,

this space so gulf and so narrow
in and between
the unity of
us


http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1413760/for-ernesto-l-gonzales-aka-the-dedpoet-the-in-between/
~~~
Castiel Apr 2014
The rigging is
set, Captain.
Brown rope, aye,
secured tightly - aye,
can be adjusted.
Here, I'll stand on this
chair and see how
it's looking - aye,
Captain, it's proper
tight now, it will
function just
well enough, sir.
Oh, Captain, the sea;
I can see the
stormy waves,
black and
turmoiled. Aye,
Captain, all rigging
set. All hands on
deck, yessir.
We can't very well set
sail with a chair on the
deck, Captain.
Permission to kick
it away?
I'm assuming the message in this one is fairly clear?

Anyway, this isn't about me, for any of you concerned.
Ignatius Hosiana Nov 2018
It's crazy but her smile is the shine I crave
when the mellow orb of dawn hits the sky
her voice the melody I wish was weaved in her chorus
am no gambler yet if she were a risky bet I swear my luck I'd try
since she's a solace that can't be found even in the Pacific waters.
I long for her like a despondent refugee aches for home
her absence is hell, heaven is her presence, she's my calm and storm
the white canvas upon which I want to paint my love
and redefine the plot of my life story, she could be my wife
the missing piece to the puzzle of my 'turmoiled' heart
and definitely an incision deeper than my first cut.
she's the star I look for when the night swallows the sun
when it gets cold the only flames I want to burn
as nothing compares to the warmth she radiates
I treasure her like a baby loves its mother,
I fear losing her like a little child afraid of the dark
she's faith that gets me through, the reason I survive
for in a world flooded with melancholy she's my Ark
I was dead to the world, she came and made me feel alive
she pulled me out of deep doldrums, from a despair so grave...
she must be the one, my infinite sleepover
a purpose for the rest of my life, maybe I was born to love her.
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
Thoughts flow like a crow flies;
mind in flight; grasping at
life's insights, fumbling across
the sky; climbing out of urban
blights, embracing self, fore,
sanity is at stake.

Reaching for sanctity in His
light; patience a virtue giving
hope to mind's turmoiled
inner persecutions, seeking
redirection for self's own sake.

As the crow flies, His wisdom,
mind and soul willingly embrace.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
it's really not worth the circus of a woman,
to agitate all those acrobats into saltos...
i felt it was worth shaving my beard
today,
wanting to scratch my face,
somehow,
turn my cheeks into
sandpaper...
   but you know
what scared me?
not that i immediately reacted
to my immortal
by evanescence with tears -
but listening to the song -
it helped to agitate the "placebo"
post-script reaction...
i just call it a delayed response
since the tarantula bite was too strong;
and that i never did have a
feminist girlfriend...
no, i just walked past a house,
down the street i most dreaded,
i once passed the house
with someone in a car
and the person beside me said:
clearly abandoned...
**** me, i'm turning into
a tim burton caricature...
  and yes, the house looks scary,
its overgrown in shrubs...
but i'm crying! i'm crying...
i walked past the same house today
having fasted the entire day,
and ending the day by eating
a hoisin duck wrap having
the testament: you could feed
me that crap all year round,
and i'd still tell you that i ate
something different each day...
that haunted house though?
   that overgrown, depilated ironically
overgrown...
     i suddenly felt a fear i've
never felt before,
   i felt it once passing the house,
but not to the point in tears,
i can only respect the lingering adam
"lost" in the garden...
       there was actually
a light burning inside this house tonight...
this house of biblical service...
**** fearing the devil!
your comical phobia
are the same goats, bulls i'd slaughter...
do you know fear?!
  do you know fear?!
  ever walk past a supposedly abandoned
house?
having that eerie feeling of
someone watching you one day,
being assured by the facade of
abandonment,
   to later find a light shining inside
the same house?
   i ******* to horror movies...
this **** is just tear jerking,
      i'm stressing diapers...
     people worry about c.c.t.v.,
i'm worried that i suddenly decided to walk
past this house,
   spectating a light in its deathly
harrowing of absence of all else present:
namely the son shadow
           being present inside...
****** please, give me any horror movie
and i'll triple the hard-on with orff's
o fortuna to boot...
   there is nothing scarier than seeing
a house that is all too clearly abandoned,
shrouded in weeds and the doubling
effect of a graveyard...
to, some day,
      during the night,
passing the same house,
      seeing a light on in the house...
******, give me a ghost, a poltergeist,
a hell-bent goat...
          what i just witnessed is far from
comic, and its also transcendental horror...
at least looking at a grave you can
find solace in the notion of the person
dead...
        when i twice, thrice, four times dead
thought this house was abandoned,
you really don't need to see a ghost
to stare into the heart of fear,
just a house you supposedly thought you
"knew" was abandoned,
no ghost..
      this grave of a house,
          with a light shining inside of it;
and this, coming from a man,
is not so much a fear,
   these are not exactly tears of fear -
rather, tears of lament...
   the most hidden of man's fears:
namely - sadness,
   and only melancholy can be the greatest
of man's fears...
         that great prematurity of death,
within the living.
         it really doesn't take a ghost,
but a "supposedly" abandoned house,
who you pass, from day to day,
to suddenly appear alive,
   with a lightbulb appearing from its
gravestone lingering windows,
  like almost a name, to conjure
memory, of that celebratory candle resting
on the gladden heart of turmoiled fate
bound to a hadean hush,
          celebratory for all saints,
       sinners, heretics and fiends alike;
you really can't even begin to conjure my
state of horror...
   conjured, like a poison dart,
  with me numbed,
walking further on,
as if nothing had actually happened...
people don't actually realise how much
horror works in the dimension of music
and delay...
    the music is obvious,
the delay effect of horror is, much, much
more subtle...
  that's called horror: "subtitled"...
          music is obvious in the genre's demand...
but the realisation of the true horror
is in the delay effect...
  the "post-traumatism" effectuality -
given that being post-traumatic is not
that you've seen something horrible,
but that you've seen something horrible
you never imagined you could have done...
   hence the the delay conceptualisation
of horror being inact...
            p.t.s.d. is the delay conceptualisation
of horror...
  and much of the horror genre is
about music, as it is about delaying the initial
burden of apathy, or rather shock mixed
with a libido overload...
  horror is nonetheless: music and delay...
   the delay becomes what it already was -
        a caseload of dreams;
music wise? just a bad taste in pop subsequently.
DieingEmbers Oct 2012
My love is my salvation, I shall not want.
She maketh me to lie down in sweet seclusion
she bathes my head with cool water
restoring my broken mind:
She layeth her hands upon me, taking from me my pain my ache
and thou I reside within the darkness of my troubled thoughts
I will fear not the dark for she is with me.
Her eyes and her smile they comfort me
Through her words am I cleansed of my daemons
she anoints my brow with kisses as my eyes runneth over.
Surely I am blessed to have such a friend as she in this my turmoiled life
and I shall stand before my Lord and attest our friendship forever.
To Lily MAE my friend and faith healer whom comforted me last night when the darkness took a hold. Thanks xox
rachel Aug 2014
I crave what I see in my mind

The future I have constructed

I see a messy bed and the rising sun
Bare legs peeking out from wrinkled sheets

Our love written in every crease
Evidence is ever present

I see hands sliding

Fingers tracing

Mouths speaking with no words

But still

The message is received

I see open windows letting in the breeze

Sparkling lights in the distance

The moon yearning to feel our love
Perched above

I see my breath

The cold night air engulfing me 

Though never reaching my heart 

I’m warmed indefinitely by the love at my side

I see my hand on a soft chest
Discovering, for the first time, acceptance and

Freedom 

The only things I’ve ever wanted

I see the world in a new way

Each night is a new city

But happiness never sleeps

Life never rests it’s weary head

Neither do we

I see summer

Flowers sway with our whispers

Sunlight sings it’s song on your shoulders

I kiss and reminisce…

I see turmoiled oceans

As we drive down winding pathways

Atop cliffs 

High as kites

I see convertibles and buses

Afghans and kaftans

Guitars and bonfires and sand covered bodies

Psalms of palms that sway in the west coast wind

I see beads in my hair

Fringe on my sweaters

Rings on my fingers

Jewels on my brow

I see you in our makeshift home 

Sitting cross legged in briefs

Your back to me; face to the ocean

Painted gold by the suns halcyon kiss

I see undying allegiance

To freedom in its freest form

No red white and blue

But the sun, me and you

I see clearly in this still silence

No fear here, only peace

And I have you by my side 

To keep me safe from solace
VarshaS Dec 2024
SHE
They:
Why do you fell for him

She:
The soul that spot my fake smiles,
And stared deep down my turmoiled heart asking,
"Whats that bleeding scar behind your silly play!"

~Varsha Srinivasan
Thought He Caught Me Not Knowing, He Was The One Who Is About To Stab Me!
Debbie Taylor Jun 2015
Deep inside
   where nothing's fine
      I've lost my mind
   to the poet inside

Mind awash
   with turmoiled thoughts
      I close my eyes
   and begin the slide

Words ripple
   awakening forgotten feelings
      I breathe in poetry
   and finally turn the tide
brandon nagley May 2015
Pharmacare insurance breakers,
Batteries to light incensed toiletries,
Smell the man next to thou,
That's thine night scented laboratory!

Light flickers to non electrical chords,
Shufflers to peddlers,
The hoarders and robbers art felonious skirds!!!

Long/night lonesomeness for thy journeys a shallow hell!
Two unknowns to a cell,
How compassionate thou are not!!!

Steal what thou has,
Forget what thou has got....
Turmoiled,
Soiled crook!!!!!

Study the firm release junk.

Tired eyed pest,
You seek the streets,
You concludeth the best!!!!

For little is better, yet is better than big in thus shoe in?
No win on win to matcheth catchy amend!!!

Scared yet?

Holiday hussies,
Mix matched fussy!!!
You complain for now....

Thou art broken and poor, hath thy infallibility lost to thine loser next to your own score?

Pathetic patriot who stands next to a country who steals your time,
They trade it,
They display it,
On shores of emegri kind.
What a mongrel of mankind!!!!!
Eppy B K Avery Dec 2014
If the universe were shaped like your heart it would be a turmoiled earth

Champagne oceans pumping streams into place

A theater for the universe's dark center

Viewed as the actor on the screen,

So alone is this figure,

the sun says to him: “hello, how do you do?”

The skies they all murmur “rain will come soon from my blue womb”

The ground screams ****** where ye walk

The universe screams at life
Syafiq Jan 2017
The night, dark, filled with silence
Dreamy eyes fixated to the stars
Does it not lead to the doors of heaven?
Stillness soothing turmoiled hearts

Has gloom diminished the love?
Churning to uncover the illusions
As if upon multitude of lights, colors
Making lovers loom away from ideals
Sound of crickets whining away
As agitated due to careless evocation
Raindrops fall in mourning
Sorrying the ground in wetness

Anxiety as time passes by, hearing
Melodious splashing of the rain
Gentle caressing of the blowing wind
The evocative hearts arouse in numbers

Beautiful flaura danced shimmy
Waving gently as if to invite
Leave your grief for love
Sing a song of longliness

For tomorrow will be bright
Happiness you will see
For your smile brings me life
Wai Phyo Win Feb 2019
Pumping out the poisoned blood
Returns to its beating heart
It flows through all arteries
Turmoiled in the capillaries
Whirlpool in the veins of thirst
Spreading all my body parts

Should I bleed like free flow
Even a foe I let him glow
Like a coin of head and tail
How can I put coffin nails?
If I let go, I shall die
He will follow same as mine

Wai Phyo Win
[ 17 February 2019 ]
Tryst Jul 2018
Our lives are as the raindrop to the river —
We falter, and we tumble; We are lost
And in the tumult cling to one another —

Enslaved by riverbanks, the river roiling
Is rain-lashed in a torrent — We are tossed
And buffeted amidst the turmoiled boiling —

Atop the foaming surface, battles rage
As brother battles brother for the sun —
Relenting, flowing, falling to a cage

In murky depths, with blissful recollection
Of cloudless skies afore the rivers run,
We cling to hope to someday rejoin Heaven.
AMarie Feb 2021
silently turmoiled
hiding behind tears
of hidden fears
coaxed to reside in the depths of my soul

communication thwarted
misunderstanding magnified
Nat Lipstadt Apr 22
intrguing, this global web site,
when you post at your "odd" hours,
somewhere it is early morn, or the
dreading deading of night,
late afternoon, lunchtime, and the,
this poem slow falls to the bottom of
the front page, into a Found, but Lost,
maybe, some die almost, totally untouched,
some shockingly reveberate, some holy revered,
others, break & brate, forlornly, of unlimited loneliness

this mystery I have studied, and freely admit,
after 15 years, under-the-ladder-stand, and
wisdom goes from zero to less and lesser;
it is time for spring cleaning, amidst the chaos,
in/of a turmoiled world, soiled, cleansing the
palate this year, is harder than ever, and the more
I ponder our exploding litany, I swallow acceptance
whole, pre~forgive most sins, and submit to the burden
and know this:
of time and poetry, the poetry of time,
now, more than ever, is the time for poetry

and the time is:
5:44AM
Tue 22 2025
nyc, usa
and the poem is now!
Asher Graves Apr 20
It all starts with a thought that follows a pop
So vivid and appealing like a curious onslaught
Then the person starts grooving out of the block
Views change, make shift, foundations are formed
Weak flame, pledged words, a moth to a bulb
Big talks, fake blogs, witfully involved

Visually lost, embraced the chaos, but that’s not enough
Growth-fully stunned, what’s wish to a cause, gracefully lost
Blinded by love, falling down a slump, to fulfill the duty to the loved ones
Amidst the carnage, the survivor can’t protest
Ravages of wars again and again, without a break
Leaves the person with nothing intact, no sense of sobriety
No realizations, No hope, just pitch black dent
And nothing’s new just plain ol’ Lament

While everything seems to make them upset
Moderating the pain to soothe the backlash
Fell in depravity, now can’t even sleep for a sec
No notion or moderation yet they try to fulfill their conquest
Their whole world is falling apart yet they can’t seem to stop themselves
For all they know is to work and work and work, so inhumane-like self
A glimpse of countless fallen souls, heroes bound for hell,
Enduring storms so cruel, even therapy lost its spell.
What you talk to isn’t even a human anymore but a charred combusted shell
Whose silence screamed for help
For years they endured so much, a salute to their resilient self

Wish someone would have noticed their stutter
Some kind words, a simple compliment, a flutter
Maybe a graceful guide, bucket-full of hopes and a house of surprise for shelter
Maybe a good friend, and a great teacher, for them to not pretend either
To mend the vice of the bitter, cries of the Aether, heart that is cluttered
Before it falls back to the nether

Their cries went in vain yet the voices still refrain
Afraid of losses and faces scorned with disdain
Forcefully smiling throughout the pain
Imminently violent and without restraint
Engulfed in the darkness for the darkness smothers their brain

Vengeful and perplexed without a rest
Their hatred is genuine, perfectly jest
For the cries that went unseen and the angst of mesh
A turmoiled life, A fractured mess

Hope is but a blundered sail
Plethora of monologues, a crumbling rail
Exhausted sighs, eerie gales
A Note Not Worth The Bother
A Ghastly tale
                                                                  -Asher Graves
I really like writing darker poems
Edward Dominic Dec 2019
The Promise.

The hours pass us by like seconds,
Sifting through our fingertips like grains of sand.
Stretched out over the sullen blades,
Beneath a blazing silver moon.

A gnarled old willow stretches out,
Ready to ******.
But the cold of the night will never reach you,
Wrapped inside a blanket of words and promises.

Ghosts of the weeks past fade amongst the stars,
Burning bright on their final eve,
But a haunting thought teases our mind
From over turmoiled seas foreign soils beckon.

Across the poppy fields the duty-call summons,
The unforgiving imperative rings true
And tears me from your clutches,
****** into the war of a loveless country.

The months crawl on, blurred with loneliness,
I see you waiting at the station for my return,
Instead a grey envelope replaces me,
Abandoning you, alone in the crowd.

And now, shivering on those sullen blades,
You lie there, waiting to join me,
As from afar I watch over you,
Above the waning crescent moon.
A dip into the past with a poem I wrote, aged 15.

Yes it is a war poem. No I had never, and still have never, been to war.
Jayne E Dec 2019
Its 2.22am
these multiple numbers
keep making themselves
apparent
pushing into my sight lines
sleep has slipped the knot
my head a turmoiled eddy
thoughts and worries
swirling in the dark waters
of my sleepless mind
feeding the toss and turn
illuminating
the empty side of the bed
the ache inside grows deeper
with the fast advancing dawn
I want to beat back the clock
turn the tock to ticking
slide backwards into midnight
like grains of sloe ice
pushing the hands of time
uphill
moving against gravity
moving toward you
your empty side of my bed
yawns an armless embrace
cold and hollow
I want to bend space
in on itself
turn this cold chasm
into a vacuum
of charged particles of light
pulling against time
pulling toward you
my heart beats in it's cage
like a hummingbird in flight
beating only for you
this  broken dinted night
sleep slipped again at 2.22.

© J.C. 28/12/2019 @ 2.22am
#sleepless #nightmares #aching #numbers repeating #insomnia
Jermon Oct 2021
I hear your cries in the howling wind,
Where the turmoiled burst free from the scalding wings.

Generations on generations,
Pain passed down where legacies need be.

This is the truth of what we’ve shed.

And those of us that deny have clearly lost our humanity.

We feel your anguish, we’ve breathed your agony.

The countless numbers, of broken hearts, estranged promises,
Of shattered dreams that follow pain.

It is difficult to be able to rise up to such a haunting truth.

There is no beauty in pain.
There is no gain in suffering.

The hurt of hollow apologies,
Of hope, of love, of torture, of sadness,
Of hope again, of fleeting joy, of darkness, of grief.

There is no parallel to told in the anguish of injustice.

This cycle of toxicity must end.
And if your pain is not acknowledged,
Let those that refuse to put their knives down be put to shame.

01.10.2021
Orange for today.
Typhoon outside.
kevin Apr 22
for those of you notified, miss markle has joined
i am a royal irish poet of thormond

so the fencing is done

native landscape of west point past checkmate of live alternate
plays at boarding the queens sate
queens ponder whilst servants issue of quarter?



subversive tinctures and laddles of absinthe minded professors
has reach to the crown, best mournings sire
ramparts dublin to england and hounds
previous journals online kindle direct
full name kevin mathenia united states poet
irish american playwright and journalist

subversive war pamphlet available online nows
Means to Measure American Literacy Rates in Ireland: the journalists oath

thats irish stanzas folks

journal to ramparts dublin and the gaurdian

in barreled inks i fished

paddle'd it
you see how we pull to the shale in the rhythyms?

i have always felt it that way to

there and back
length of body out, and ankle it out like a full body power slide
on the face and back hand at once
when the swell and you measure down
she relents and lets you end her or with her
thats aggression

irish cutting you off now shane, have the land ledge movement
im on civil rights violation

trying to fight my way into prison

i'll drag every man who signed his life to me, away
through my castles in pain

jenna haze is on the other side in new york waiting

and rains of sands, soundly bobby, i'll go down

for when i became calm, a star an air force general from ireland

for the green fields of london call, speak of french again

for my grandmother elizabeth omeara of lietrim


the game which gazes
should you choose as seats
recipes that meat?

i will unfind the aprons cloth
of the grill to my lest i be without
signatoria in 3


Gianmaria Testa brother of racquel irene testa
senator michael testa of new jersey

i will not pay rent

brimhall library homekey theft ..... i am irish, she is sicily

her medici's are with holds in ham

milanesa de napoliatana mash

nuovo

you will inact, imagining sorrow's worth
that we lost the war within ourselves
the sun is all the grain leaves
the gold was the catch
the heave and *** of slaves labor
lying dead and downtrodden
on the shores and trenches of america

critical mass generation
thats military science
your passing, as am I
only I being a difference maker
can stand liberty up, a loan to france

thats 1009 emails

you know what colors are in my inbox?

when i became a bar room hero,
it was when she brought the medical records
of her son's heart surgery to me
while we were locked out of my country
we have spent 5 years raising jack jack

hi ken its kevin, fide et amor,  i remember doing a record gig for pennywise in carpinteria with pete rocky

being a civil rights leader ends a lifes able
the journalist's needs are to replace soldier
allowing leave and inroads are built in ink

thousand oaks library signing on

welcome to perception
blue in 2
hold
the
screams
your
hinge                  grab a texas shimmy'r to remove the slide

come back in 1 remove fret at 3 from the killing floor

going to the morse codes gonna hava

im taking jonny langs guitar off, make a duet

this a jazzy blue tie for miley's girlfriend

we gonna session it up to salt title it hinge
work it over for koko to show
wet works to peel the harmonica in to the damage
in 3 or 2 back 2 3 and 4 out
cat crawl throwing stolen thumbs  (thats my names)

thatta lets some water for lil walter

mike, lets steal the spoons from summertimes open scratch and play

when kendall gets home and doesn't cry learn how to resent me
and write that objective

its about ending the celebration,the wrong way
your blind, essays guides and knights of los angeles

being a soldier my whole life, leaves me to know for you
when its good to be scared. and type it  back to me

san francisco rude cruise
end 1
drawings of london overt bostones

chuckies keys hold

ok tara this is the pretty reckless tourbus we are throwing up requests for the santa barbara bowl with johnny lang and linkin park, figure you outs

Ducks, caterpillars and orchestra
Seasons nobley rend.
Unfinishing forms as went
Body moves and ment
Builds of stanzas
Pirrohuet invent
Cloudy durable meditation
Uncure-able
Hinging sang
As rangle dined
Nacient sky wanderings
Awakening leafs songs
Timing breaths, faithful foly
#taylorswift


Suspend
I am confronted
As psyche and lyric
We fertil the lose
#jennahaze

Curation as history
The rude is indifferent
The plum is pluck
Developing inference in witness
The paint is spent defining away

Lady
Your a measured philosophy of prose
A wise love defied trade with me
As we examined fight
Don't define me
The end
#kendalljenner

Corners
What I have understood in life
By turning into the problem
The great reveal lives
As isn't is faced the season, becomes
Concerned
Cornered is her hindsight
And in timing
We face a longing
To lose with

I share of this partnering with provocation
That your days may blend into
Comforting hands of the *******


Girlvert

The Juliet society


Life's at the end
What I have understood in life
By turning into the problem
The great reveal lives
As isn't is faced the season, becomes
Concerned
Cornered is her hindsight
And in timing
We face a longing
To lose with

the civil war
back during the civil war and befor's
people in "certain" professions, policing people
made vows and churches and burned peoples
always the california with the golden rings so fair?
do you?
yes
too late
wifery laws
where i woman isn't speaking
and child molesting men hunted boys into prisoning
absconding from the army
the creation of another continental congress
held that reason required a department of corrections
for the child molesting police to join the military
when a police department reaches critical mass
the must adjourn to prison for appelate and trial judges
to review conduct of office

christina appelgate is kate middleton


contracting and paragraph writing
support of logic
retracting distractions
that a law was created regarding homeless money
and translated into words
the pitch and fervor of advertising wrong
going back in time
governor is still governor
the title of california is governor wording
theft is theft
one cannot make a living off of another human
trafficking....
a american without a job may not steal the life or lively hood
of another
unemployment insurance exists
bad registers are created and then fired or using synonyms
otherwise re written and re described
so as to structure success in california
there are no lifetime appointments as california homeless career

this is welfare fraud
illegal subsidy of anothers provisions

varied degree's of guilt

i will give you a problem to solve
tonight....
why are you holding the testa's hostage
in a body bag in california gavin


new titles
the girl hear
i can get out of town
set up show, catch another address
come back after
after
letting sight out of what's right
she stilled in the bag
overnight
billboard
she is italy
in my eyes
how i died
coming in irish poetry
lost forever, loves taken away

conquestador exquisite
senora mayor
the grass grows strange
in the burrows face

madison beers at me
palabra visions, que

toon face speak, a tent hut

graffiti
the losing laundry
the holding hostage
saying im writing
and all are blind

the disengineous savant
question
when was the last time you ****** over forty men?
thats how to kick a mule into a prison term
turrets for civilians

acquire an acre from the local union operators heretic
be it a she or he or fluids
discuss gus and gals till the trap opines

sup er flows right on the platter

best friend first thanks

snafu
political ****

i am a business

please refer to classic kendall photogs of past declare war politics

malorca lighting was refreshing on kylie, thanks

you got her hair open part ways and try it on you

then there is the dirt abandon shot
the faux grease words and other repose reposing of frame

these missing dictionary values and things help i dont know how

i am not a soldier
i am military
i do millitary
you dont find ways to save us with your free speech
debate and challenge the oppositional sentences

is sewing to speak as i am able
the voting of your booths would exist everyday
allowing us to come home
thats general assembly of world peace
dis arm the powers of the press
the voice missing is the losing song

gwenstefani, never needed you either


not liking this or that
your available to live, and not is wisdom
i am available behind civil rights violations

run of mine
tred of earth, from me and?
when  hearing lies, all tred is gone


a philosophy of news
that as we go in time
a new summization can be afforded little time
and evaluation is infinite
to examine the map, cartography

all news and description of information
is reworkanble into improvement
this include wall street
employement options and descriptions
the word work describes health of a person
....activity and motion over time, improvement requires
more work, less, sedation or atrophy


may or a sale for you
never me, never free
so i dub thee homeless purge worth
compared to my trial record all is profitable prose
i have a juris doctorate
allowing doctoring of evidence from my ****** money

Lancaster mayor’s

what said you?
what sayeth ye?

please share your spotlight of ambition with the news, again
ego that **** thing

the boston globe was fun

your speaking to me thats the military
we don't know the freedom
the people who speak for you
dont and do affect us
taking our life away, inch by inch
i don't
know a lot of things you know how

leave new confessions of freedom and hows the plurals on the paper please for the other people


vishnu and alan watts and linkin parks
another link, another park with poverty
freed thoughts from thoughtless peasants
giving of sentence to the dead
us beyond being loved
having not but that you would reach, another, as we

mention of another
i and thou exists, yet your enemied days list is songs to find ketch and wind in the falling page

the middle path
for and with the undiscovering of the mind
the untouched rendering of paint
the unknowing of war and wars
a vowel a verb reflection
before the slaving, water and narcissus
as she was meaning so shall i

when will she bring a new song
#parisjackson #jennahaze

issuance #2
in the creation of letter, language study, finance
and British measure of peace to the americs's
simple sail was used, ink was left and library was erected as frame

this is an irish essayist, ireland has done this with history already.


college
for the irwin husband
we are proud of 20 year old with ******* fiesta

classic enjoyment of liberated women's rights
to explore rock n roll and have great *** with experience
preference of billionaire agenda, as if, victoria and secrets

irish poet attempts in american logic spells

governing of wife done by newsomething else so became governor of california

is this examination of translation and literacy
an appropriate measure of comparative literature?
in the discussion of barbs, insufficient language in legislation
am i as poet descriptive in the imbalance?
the inference of opposition is delve able.

poverty rights, privacy rights, many military measures of law
less choice, higher literacy rates, finite math and means of speech
after entry into history, no counter exit may be spoken.    miranda


scotlands measure in doubt
as folded lend
bends of russian summer
turgenev's spring,
remembrance oft turmoiled pillage

the canter of burry, lythical touch
empty surrenders of birth

calming the worries of wisdom
i am not the wisdom of your past
i am only logistics from the army
census is not complete in california
1st coordination of the day is homeless numbers are coming in negative
2nd coordination burn victims go in the hospital

homeless people are without frame or constitution

disaster and emergency protocol correction

the hand of my general is calming

this is one of our departments, civil affairs

safe for work,,    higher

here, we allow and let go the focus of what people are
trafficking in doors
in doors doesn't exist
the mass ****** exists
i seek that military trials have been held in the past

this is removal of the flank, the laddle and the bath
warmth out and in the wounds of war
musn't the war be quieted? yes it must

command has this in hand ladies

the irish wombe
contritions wombe
never shall i contrive, of
mothers wisdom
the act of being contrived, is
an act of hostaging the violition
of another
embattled romes kneel'd
conference of the selfless slaves of
northern ireland
i am liberated from france

everyday california crimes
the police **** the women in the street
ain't i a woman

non profit orchestras
in the assembly of 2 and more bodies, able'd gangs arm to arm
formation of flank

homeless crisis profit(s)

the capture and title-ing of slaves in america

this is military, united states
intercept of interpol and permit emit of transmission by and four lensed


mater dei
the theology and police family audit of 2024-2025

that?  neither is enrolled nor contributes to the cost of living
that? corruption of trust as defined by antitrust investigation shall apply

the police and theology budget and quality of life=q factor
in the signal of draw from amp(s)
the hague applied

submitted to allied command.

they are aware this is going public

i use a vaporizer after talking with a doctor in thousand oaks
the conclusion by medical opinion was that an increase in my life span would be the result after years of tobacco smoking
also the lowering of my bloodpressure..

obstruction to justice, public speech paid for and ?


a word of kiwi
not wild quant britain
nor english, middle irish familiarity
and against neither of holding long
1 scotch 2 poors of bourbon and no ice

thats a livid louda in 3

tap.....?

oasis champagne supernova that whouldn't hi, hide
small word nice clean new wave orchestra's

aubreyz a surfer girl painter song

foolish
foolish is the youth
of a voice
in attempt
of the temple
accept that the temple is held
the water drops
the void is you

jenna, again, i use your eyes for love

the charge of war and wars towards affectioniting me
as the fetile position of creed none see the after waste
of using kevin's ink

i am the cooled desert's water hiding
as your city beats, me, tranquility is stone

i am many bodies without many homes, less the good night of worth

welcome to many mansions and the area housing authority corruption of the united states of america.  the sub letting of the government in the creation of the privately operated treasury of church inside of .org states and savings and loan

as the employer, the employee finds and defines the crime
those are the labor laws, i am a poet

post, actionable response
attempt of cinder
black male rf signal trace
brimhall library
city employee operator
deploy of title overt testimony of intent
intent to bag conference
citizens journal to warden
indifferent confine, criminal conspiracy, interpol readout
to mirror holding homeless millions wears gold watch
was on luthern web site and removed visible identity

unauthorized rf signals

***** education agency
keep off
irish mits tap flat
no army
need no green
hit and p, keeper of the pass
re lease my frame and a e
say no everyday the french
it a chique form

paying checks like a senator, no quik e

repa no clowner signs? y mas palor

para the monk? extravagants warehouse

monk 6 the housing laws

he own the budget of delapidated crimes not payed for

structual engineering ,, poor citizens supervisory councils
no impedence of traffic on lines


environmental laws of diplomacy
those without have less discussion provided them


years ago i came into thousand oaks

battling the recession

mathematically it was not a survivable odd
the opponent was collapse eminent domain and gerrymandering
feared and fearfull letters from inept language of assembly

finding others unhoused, in various states of dis-repair
i eventually  "graduated" to the "wash" where we are "learned" to hide
while acquiring american hobo skills of interstate travel
the language of the country takes time and toll.

liberty is the confidence of the great american hobo's, thus the toll of locomotion is always our right to pass obstruction

havent seen you since la conchita cameron

my ventura bailiff if concert can happen for you if you a jimmy carter refuge looking for the light on, he never hide 40 yard dashes

elbows up side to side chiques cool let him ride

diplomacy and letters post brexit
after brexit, with ireland stabilized
my consulate does not experience loss of life
the international laws which protect my life
are the language i am putting across your desk

loose grasp of the united kingdom
i am british, the king is english
i am irish, not scottish
these are languages, and i am also english now that brexit has happened in history
where my family comes from in new york and ireland is the country side
in new york we are a us general of diplomacy
in ireland we live in the peaceful countryside where no wars are experienced
we have no police

Commission on slaves
Lahsa, and aha are not hud and not newsom.  These are criminals welfare queens and non profit tax frauds

Homeless annexing official drug Lords of court algorithm obstructions

Tony your going to prison with gretched

fathering a cradle
outside of a letter
against a government
the rendered offense of needs
above the heeding of just and fair
taking of fares, grins beneath stairs
obstruction to the bodies dying in streets
hateful days and nights
efforts of hate
efforts too taken over the bodies
imposed, impotented, writen for
in orders of motions to attack, the waiting
game taste of human meats
#asmirwin #aoc #senwarren

antitrust investigations of the legislatures of american
causable frame for reason
poverty, geneva violations of human rights to a frame and a constitutional measure of life in the span of our time on earth


emily conover
geo thermal evacs
the detonation and liquification
of our commodity
water
hydro carbon poignancy
the projection against turbine
injection as variable in dissection of mathematician languaging

aggregate and re sum zero mass
mass against mass is fold of sum some thing in another length
ink, opposite polar coordinate from military science
finite math finite letter

geneva conventional wisdom focus on housing in american life span


tony this is congres letters hearing this
and homeless american is worth sunday retraction
love you kylie, no more wells fargo post office's thanks

she knows behind blue eyes

--debating journals as a means to measure progressive literacy of lives living and so on-----

world peace in parts
the third overature's
approach
the price and cost of stable
day in 1's
the eurasian peninsula returns gaurd
flanking northern atlantic forces
armada appears as whale flights
8 and 1 alto of a fifth measure
commondity to hold, four too held

ambers grains beneath handed ash

autumn a single quarters marking and mark of
coordinate #1
brexiting history

herstories, autumns, length of visit upon the heading west

titling in victory, a chinese summit

the name
insurmountable collage of civilization
civilized sorcery of the high seas

the race is him, beneath the empty calling of war
in the northern rims of ireland
aka korea

korean is irish for peace

no longer than a four and a measure
is tilting interesting the pangenian effectures

have we the symphony today ladies

enjoy american greed in 0

eva is this touch up removed from french press yet?


notice to chief public defender
of breach, in ventura county courthouse

breach of clearance level
none of you should be hearing from me
aside from antitrust
i should be gone inside a long time ago

a general, general's breach is a mass is movement
and im demolished frame, constitution as the same, american
citizen destroyed by cost of police budget
bulldozer physics of high school football scrimage fame

gentle humble american peasant liberty meets destruction
anti construction jobs operation of petrol causing exposure of flesh to exhaust pipe acid rain porous mixture of priority god

whatever plagirism education they appear to have
it's all fear of something better
that is something they cannot be a part of
the department of corrections owns them
and the cowardice of not going to the prison
they are assigned to for review of paperwork
is the constant extension of war crimes by defintion
in u.s. history.
the army they are not
to policy regarding that things career ends with the obstruction
to the justice department and district attorney's exhibiting fear in the line of duty
army and american regulation and allegiance of courage requires no cowardice
i am army
cowardice is the death penalty
treason is punishable by death

what say you?
kevin Apr 21
as folded lend
bends of russian summer
turgenev's spring,
remembrance oft turmoiled pillage

the canter of burry, lythical touch
empty surrenders of birth

— The End —