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1000 results for “tettig”
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@tanweerdar
That day, he thought he had won
Her over with his #scintillating lies,
The stories he made up of a past he
Never had, of lives & loves only
Ever imagined & never tried, of
His respect for the women he’d only
Ever used, thought he’d conquered
What his father had always told him
He had to conquer. He had no notion
Of tenderness or respect, & his world
Reveloved only around himself. The
Sneer on her lips surprised him, as she
Walked away & said she never wanted
To see him again. -
@tanweerdar
Fragile, meaning.
It shatters the morning after,
When passion dissipates, when
The daylight adds the sharp edges
To everything, the sharp edges
All things already have,
The knowledge that nothing lasts
Forever.It is brittle, this thing we
Turn between our fingers, one
Moment certainty, the next lost,
As if there never had been a point
To it. Even love suffers.
Faith ends.Nothing but questions and questions
And questions repeatedAnd disappeared.
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.@radiostradbroke http://www.radiostradbroke.co.uk #NowPlaying Maximo Park - Sandblasted & Set Free #ClassicAlbum
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@tanweerdar
Olives only fruit from new growth.
There must be a pruning after each harvest
For a fresh one to grow. There can be
No #towering majesty in the fight
To feed.Olive trees are no shelter from the rain
If the rain does arrive on these parched
Terraces. The stones are nothing but the
Sharp edges of famine. We have to plant
Other majesties to seduce the clouds &
Rip them open.Green & black & swollen.
The bodies drift away in the floods.
There will be no-one to pick
The next harvest. -
One of the gods of war,
Punished for his transgressions
By being turned into a cat
With a permanent sneer
And unfathomable eyes,Pollinates the poppies by
Rubbing his wire fur against
The petals of death in an
Attempt to pay back his debts
To those whose fate he was.Under the
Heaviness of
His being
He prays
To the kinderGods to let
The flowers
Grow and bring
Decay back
To bloom. -
@tanweerdar
It was just a moment, & now
He’s not sure he didn’t dream it.
Night has ended, & still the
Touch lingers, that vision on his
Eyes, that sacred sight of her
Slowly dancing along the bare
Corridor surrounded by echoes,
Dropping her clothes as she went,
& he followed until they
Reached a warmer room where
He expected she would #entertain
Him with dervish passion &
Blood-hot kisses. All he sees this
Morning through the pain is his
Viscera hung up to dry in ragged
Ribbons.
#MastoPrompt -
There is nothing left of the ship
After the storm. Masts and sails
Gone, everything above deck
Disappeared by the typhoon,
The sides shattered, the corpse
Of the vessel overturned and
Floating between the huge
Ups and downs of the restless
Swell, those interminable seas.
Only the keel remains intact
A dorsal fin hiding in the
Dark troughs and valleys
Waiting for its particular
Prey. The sky touches the
Water, and it explodes
In renewed fury. -
He still doesn’t know,
Thirty-four years later, what
Made him pick up the phone
That day to call the eyes he
Dreamed about, those green
Lakes of vanishing, and ask
Them to look at him, into him,
And change him. He can’t
Understand the plans of the fates,
Not now, not then, not ahead,
When time is water through
His fingers, green and clear,
A compulsion to stay living. -
Through the past
Along forgotten memory lanes
The constant thread of history
Throbs under the mess of millennia.Seldom visible,
Unless we make the effort to
#Comb through the back stories
Of our existence, the winding wireLinks everything
To the beginning of the counting,
Of souls, of events, of people,
Famous or not, who changedThe world,
And change it still. The lessons
Stand, visible or not, effort or not,
And ignoring them is not an option. -
The universe disappears,
Day too bright,
Sky too blue
For any other colours.The moon has misplaced its stars.
The cosmos is disfigured
On days like these,
When the wind freezes
On exposed skin
And thinking.Blue hands,
Unread books,
Unproven theorems.Quantum.
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I think I miss an imagined version
Of cricket, where there are no failures
Nor unkind words, where there is no
Permanent core of self-doubt
Writhing around my heart, and where
Team bonds are forever strong.It doesn't exist, of course, this
Perfect model of the game I used
To love, where to pick up a ball in
January to start hardening my hands
Was as natural an act as breathing,
So I stand at the boundary and dream. -
LONELINESS
Outside this space is a succession of
More empty spaces, all in neat deserted
Rows of loneliness invisible behind the
Voids without markers. The whimpers
Of aloneness have no signs nor signals
Nor sounds nor smells. This translucence
Is all there is. Don't mistake this white
Noise of the vacuum for heaven. The
Sterile compartments for lost souls
Are worse than that, this blind unseeing
Plain of absence, this friendless place. -
He won’t believe the shape
Of what he sees on the page
Unless he has watched it
Being formed by the hands
Which claim its origin.The aura of mistrust
Was bred into him by all
The broken promises of
His youth, the turned
Backs when most he
Needed open arms. He
Is exhausted by all this.The spoken word is even
Less reliable, even when
Liars look in his eyes.He cannot interpret signs.
-
Two crowns of shame
in the official portraits,
self-declared official.Blood diamonds.
Self-awarded honours
always reek of
something invented
not real,
undeserved.The blood is real.
It drips down their
cheeks. Look
carefully at history,
ignominious
as it is.Tyranny has never
faded, has always been
centre stage, ignored
at everyone’s peril.Here are the unjust desserts.
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not superstition
we lend the land to the humans
in return they abuse it and us
without thanks or thought
believe their artificial divisions
make their pathetic parcels sovereign
when they’re all part of one world
our worldthey will not survive
though we are not wrathful
they will destroy themselves
with their lies and games
and self-deceptions
they have already startedthey forget that their millennia
are a fraction of one of our
moments -
In The Style Of Jackson Pollock (or not)
His mind is packed full
Of useless things:
A pack of cards,
Three chess problems,
A shopping list,
Greek words he doesn’t understand,
German echoes,
Norwegian pronunciations,
Noam Chomsky,
William Labov,
Bits of poetry,
Unfinished plots,
More chess pieces,
Tears – the wet type,
Questions unformed,
Rapid Eye Movement,
Unrest.He resembles a collage
Of intentions and denials
Trying too hard. -
#Obliterate.
Literally: unwrite, scrub out what
Is written. What has been written
Can never be unwritten - a fallacy.
Everything can be destroyed except
Matter. I don't think my words will
Reconstitute themselves when they've
Been burned or have mouldered away,
And even if it isn't until the sun
Consumes the Earth at the end of time.
There may be souls who wander the
Voids of the dead universe who
Will recite what we have scribed. -
#NewMusicFriday on https://www.radiostradbroke.co.uk at 10am 15May26. Inc: Hurtsfall; Anya Vincent; abs; Echograms; A-Tota-So; Larlin; Avelons; Egotist; Wulvig; Riot Patrol; Dark Tropics; Mortimer Nyx; Shoun Shoun; MIN t; NFU; IC1s; Huarinami; Twat Union; evening plans; & more. Be there. #NewMusic
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The change of name,
That belief of being best,
Of being superior and above,
Of owing nothing and being owed
Everything, the carefully
Cultivated appearance,
The practiced charm,
The sweaty handshake,
The untucked shirt,
The rehearsed laugh.
The truth is he's not exceptional,
Not special. He's nothing but
A murderer by incompetence. -
SUBSTANCE
The newspapers cut and pasted
Into mounds of different meanings.
Social media scree-shotted, and not
A single fact checked; factless propaganda.
What made sense at some forgotten
Point is garbled now, and corrupted,
Disjointed, deformed and senseless.
The world has lost its substance. -
#NewMusicFriday on https://www.radiostradbroke.co.uk at 10am 15May26. Inc: Hurtsfall; Anya Vincent; abs; Echograms; A-Tota-So; Larlin; Avelons; Egotist; Wulvig; Riot Patrol; Dark Tropics; Mortimer Nyx; Shoun Shoun; MIN t; NFU; IC1s; Huarinami; Twat Union; evening plans; & more. Be there. #NewMusic
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In the shadows, the cold is remorseless and
Full of reproach. 'Go away,' it says, 'and
Find the sun on this crisp morning. Don't
Linger here in the dark. Go, and leave me
Alone.' I can't find the way out of this
Forest of melancholy, and don't want the
Light to find my eyes and blind me with
The defined and sharp contours of reality.
I sit on the snow by the icy tree, and close
My eyes and ears. No more...#MastoPrompt #reproach #SmallPoems #Poetry #MicroFiction #SmallStories
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On the bed, old man's morning stretches,
I close my eyes, and the years wind back,
All those empty days, and the board games
On top of the wardrobe. I reproach myself
For all the lost hours and afternoons I have closed
Myself away from my children to do
Nothing more than write my imaginations
On to lots of bits of paper.#MastoPrompt #reproach #SmallPoems #Poetry #MicroFiction #SmallStories