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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Stimulatedots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: OrigamiLover
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 24/19/8
    Words: 340
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 865
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2566



    Description:
       You know that they used to give soldiers a saline solution during the war, when they'd start bleeding out too much... Because they couldn't carry around endless supplies of blood with them - not that wars don't engender blood shed or anything, but could you image all the sick communist diseases they'd catch using random people's blood?

    Water, salt and sugar. Injected directly into their veins. It's was like a placebo but for your veins, and they used to call it stimulating because it was a quick jolt of energy.

    Another purpose for the saline solution is was kill embryonic babies. They'd insert a needle in the placenta, remove some amniotic fluid and replace it with a saline solution that kill the embryo. Not very stimulating, huh?


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsStimulatedots
    -------------------------------------------


    It is easy to be forgotten if you try
    your best to be remembered. For in spite
    of popular belief, you are, and if popularity
    is remembered, where then is the hero?
    Therein lies a symmetrical synergy oft
    ignored.

    A stage where mask meets master;
    a face upon which veneers of sadness
    are painted by tears, covering lips
    inflected, all hidden in the burly
    of the beard.


    Where is the rose, if not for her thorns
    to mar, prick and imprint her beauty?
    That beauty, which cannot perceive itself...
    It is only an extended and spurious
    truth of being perceived.

    Semi-outwardly furled petals
    like pseudo-ebbing silken slates;
    an arch relished as the breast
    of women, a sexual conspiracy
    innate in fetishes.


    Perhaps... It is a kiss blown by the wind,
    unable to consume itself.

    An unclasped pearl still rolling on
    the shoulders of long dead soldiers -
    a great escape of treasure still hidden,
    the burden of lives with incomplete
    wills.


    Artemis' beauty, is it then timeless?
    Or, like Prometheus, is it bound to be
    disemboweled by its overshadowed
    dependency?

    A silhouette guided by the shade
    of vapours in Paris' gutters, willfully pacing
    to and fro the nature of filth, as if plagued
    by indecision; worth...less.


    Perhaps... The wind doesn't sway blades;
    instead, it pushes grass around.

    A grade school bully molesting dreams
    by occupying the time of their owners -
    secretly habouring many of his own
    eschewed fantasies.


    And what of the dancing trees?
    Are they not tickled by the dryads
    imbued with the magic of a forest's
    Nix?

    A staff of time; wooden branch
    hollowed by grandfather time's
    chimes - metamorphosed poetry
    turning words into bitter treats.


    All in extension, unable to kiss itself,
    or prick itself, or even recoil itself;
    this is the synergy that necessitates love,
    for beauty is a thing only believed in
    by others.




    Submitted on 2008-12-02 10:30:03     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      comment, part 1:


    I have a friend who goes to a lot of shows and takes pictures. I used to do that too... It's cool, to have something to remember the night, but you get so absorbed in trying to create souvenirs, you don't actually experience the moment.








    (sorry. this isn't very useful, but i feel a little lost at the moment. i'll come back.)
    | Posted on 2009-04-26 00:00:00 | by etheror | [ Reply to This ]


    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

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    168508

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.


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