February 2012
28 posts
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Progression.
so many poems to edit and finish.
too much a.d.d. and procrastination keeping me from polishing them off.
not giving a fuck tends to help when one keeps choking on their own words.
the fewer fucks i give, the more honest my work.
we’re guna keep using this tactic and maybe, just maybe, my anal retentive need to try and write the perfect poem will subside.
now if i could just get...
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Writer's Block.
Lately … . the words have been getting in the way.
this isnt a poem. this is just my way of explaining my behavior because I’m forever compelled to do so.
The words get in the way because it’s so blatantly obvious that I can’t consciously connect my own feelings into a poem. not when its about myself. I keep trying and making these half assed attempts that all come out...
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Poetry Semi-Finals Tonight.
New Poems to be posted later.
heres to breaking rib cages.
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Rakuli: Love as a question →
rakuli:
If love was a question would you tell me the answer if you knew? If love were, what would you do and is there a limit to what you would go through to accrue, construe the answer to love if it was asked to you. When love’s in a question “Do you love me, yes or no?” or “What…
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The Post Grad: You Are The College Activist →
thepostgrad:
You are the college activist.
Yes Shining, burning bright In a world you once perceived as innocent Now spitting hot fire over bullhorns and human mics You light up this campus.
You are the college activist. Your fingertips smell of Sharpie ink From making campaign and protest signs While…
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… . .do i have the fucking plague or something?
I’m losing followers like its Armageddon and my blog is powered by Satan.
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Stoner's Delight.
and a pack of juicy wraps. .
lick it
leaf it
crack it
gut.
roll it
spark it
pass it
puff.
inhale
hold.
cough.
repeat.
adventure time;
soap box philosophy
red stop signs
paranoid-
matching eyes
heavy lids
indica blends
couch locked
bong cough
breaking ice with smoke
as stoners go
breaking bread with doritos
shotties
grenades
and in between
fuck pirates.
its a...
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January 2012
30 posts
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Confessional.
there are secrets and lies …and then theres sometimes.
sometimes… we keep secrets.
i know you dont know me very well.
for all these stories i tell,
little is ever said.
the sick retrospective
perspective of one self defined
self righteous,
self absorbed,
self… . . loathing,
(naturally there is duality)
Self.
But sometimes… .we keep secrets.
like how sometimes
...
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On Watching Intervention.
Watching Intervention I began to notice a pattern;
besides the all too familiar downward spiral,
beneath the pill popped, main-line injected shell of an existence we call entertainment,
were memories of old hurt.
Etched into flesh like track marked footprints.
Like crumbs leading back to a not so distant past
eaten by crows
making foreign the familiar concept of home
Or maybe the two were...
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Karaoke for Beginners.
A crush is like a song
A vinyl record I let play over and over til the needle wears so deep in its trenches,
So entrenched inside me
It becomes the rhythm my pulse dances to
Now every time I hear it my heart beats like a snare drum
Organized para diddle beats giving way to uncontrolled thirty second note rolls
A closed snare drum who’s voice is dying to ring out
To vibrate on a wavelength.
Sets...
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