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The mind is laid open, A platter of lust Its outer removed, Leaving just What was doubted to be, A figment of 'fore held trust One sees more than is proferred, And feelings which were, seem to fail The clouded belief clears, Leaving only passion's scorched trail Forsaking this is a must, Lest we, like they, become frail Our friendship is lost in their weakness, Is to hold it much harder than earn The people we know never change, Although they, like we, do learn Of what is true of a person, And what is false in turn. |
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Lou watched in horror as his father dragged the carcass through the forest, laughing and joking with the other nobles. His mind was confused with rage as he re-lived what had just happened; the innocent deer's scream as several arrows buried themselves in its body; the laughter and sheer pleasure his father had obviously felt afterwards. The look in the deer's eyes, cloudy but not distant; non - seeing but alive, and the pain in its expression, so much pain. And then nothing. |
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To heal their wronging, he sacrifices the meaning; creating in his heart, a piece of nothing He captures her soul, but no intent be true; his kindness is all, and his passion none Though continuing to walk, is he both living and dead; having captured the love of his other The one he made lesser, leaves him and then; all he has given, is meaningless. |
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A gashed paper bag Lining a stolen, old brown sack. Musical against a night sky as it swings around, falling and landing hard in the sand. A lake of grain, feeding the lizards in the dunes, and yet he grinds it... beneath his fucking shoes The shit on their knees must be too good For what's thrown in their laps to be a reality, And not some sick imbecile's joke, as he reels in his monotony. Funny man, funny guy. Swinging a bag you're too stupid to even understand. You just managed to EXEMPLIFY how our very existence here has forever altered the fabric of our *naturally* messed up world. Look around and you'll see clearly How it is impossible to do so. If you ever feel like blaming somebody.... Go find the man with the sack and swing another one at him. A crystalline way in which to demonstrate Our mutual futility. |
And the old man was happy |
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For want of one better than 'love' Was the word's meaning first sought The truth of it lyeth within Held in everyone. For want of one gentler than found Was a kiss, not merely just this A connection made deeper than physical Looked for by everyone. For need of an ending to the unending Was the passion for long desired But in desire, the terrible pain One realises, must always exist For need of it central to all of us Is the reason that pain must define All can be said of a person Of humans, humanity; divine For that which we search for is perfect Were that we all are much less It must make us whole or perish As a sweet dream dying, at best. |
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Food For Thought
Gaunt fox, lifts his head in the breeze. The cubs wail, their stomachs cramped; in pain. He rises wearily, half turning his sleek, scarred head. She twitches, nervous. For Them. Rustle in the leaves, Shrill cry in the wind. Each might have been more than it seemed. Her young scream, their stomachs cramped; in pain. She moves to leave, scared; selfless. He returns after time, tired, wet and cold. With food, yet hungry still. It is silent now. He gently slips into the den. She takes too long, hopping limply; coming once more to her home. Worn but glad, for she bears (for them). A soul piercing howl echoes throughout. He is stricken within. She stares, releasing what had seemed so precious - No more. |
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I don't want to know anything about your system of ethics strength is the morality of the man who stands out from the rest and it is mine [Ludwig van Beethoven] |
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