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a colorfilled dream (ASIEM) the wind persists and I wonder to myself (Toothpick) what words do i use to describe new love (cza_adonis) we had no idea what we were doing (Annabanana)
its simple (onedrop)
you say you want a (delrica) life (lunaeco) shiny glistening layers (idle) reflecting from a jagged prism (fear and loathing)
so now i'm offering u my handout it aint gonna be (3rd i) with mad imagination (Nathaniel) becoming morning rain arrival, anticipating in denied (deepthought74) not bitter or sweet kinda sorta in between (Swol_Belly)
has our blazing arrow no light left? (k0la) No long soliloquies, no hyperbole's just facts (Gdchil1) Let's be serious, (HardGroove) somehow when you smile I freeze frame (marijane) when our voices don't follow (morehouse)
these thoughts-- (presyzion) growing tired of not being able to transform (robynwildchild)
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exist in limbo.
"we are accidents waiting to happen" -radiohead
"Poetry is a kind of distilled insinuation. It’s a way of expanding and talking around an idea or a question. Sometimes, more actually gets said through such a technique than a full frontal assault." -Yusef Komunyakaa
"The Black Artist's role in America is to aid in the destruction of America as he knows it. His role is to report and reflect so precisely the nature of the society, and of himself in that society, that other men will be moved by the exactness of his rendering and, if they are black men, grow strong through this moving, having seen their own strength, and weakness; and if they are white men, tremble, curse, and go mad, because they will be drenched with the filth of their evil."
-Amiri Baraka, from "State/meant" in the essay, "Home"
"My love is my soul's imagination. How do I love thee?...Imagine." -Saul Williams
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myself is sculptor of your body’s idiom: the musician of your wrists; the poet who is afraid only to mistranslate a rhythm in your hair... -E.E. Cummings
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