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Quotes about dangle, page 4

Are you familiar with the 'Nana Nap'?

Are you familiar with, the Nana Nap?
Have you yourself fell victim to its pull?
The head bobs down, tho' not quite to your lap
as conversation changes to your drool.

These senior moments when the lights go out
and dentures dangle from the pink abyss.
The REMs confirm, there is no doubt
and from the nether regions, there's a hiss.

And all this happens unexpectedly
when you pretend to listen with intent.
As consciousness returns, it's plain to see
you're thinking 'Shit! I wonder what they meant! ! '

With confidence you combat the surprise...
'Och no dear, I was just resting my eyes'.

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Inquisition

I wish I had more time to spend,
In this inquisition you are in.
And when you receive
Information you are willing to accept
And only believe,
Don't perceive me there waiting...
With my heart on my sleeve.
I would have retrieved my belongings
And from you I did leave!
Patterns of doubt,
You want to start and toss about...
May be great for those anticipating your charms,
But I don't need you as a trophy,
To dangle uncertain on my arm!
If you're going to be with me...
Know that I wanted to be there with you!
I'm not looking for aggravation...
You want to start OR put me through!

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The Demons Of Follies

Often at dark nights,
When I rest my head on the pillow,
To relax myself, to calm down tedium of the day,
And put down the lids of my eyes,
The door of some mysterious world swings open;
And I see the images of a strange creature,
No bigger than the physic of full-sized frogs,
Resembling the cartoons,
They stalk around me with glad movements,
Some dangle like bats on the doors
And windows of my dark room,
They emit pungent, disgusting impressions,
And some time I hear a whisper,
“We are your follies; we shall reside with you,
Till you live here and hereafter.”

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436

It Is A Hug That You Need
When Some Parts Of You Dangle
On Your Shoulder
Like The Way Your Your Hair

Shouts For Help
For Fear Of Falling
And Here I Am Coming
To Hug You

This Kind Of Hug That Sings
The Song Of
Apple Pickers
And

Garbage Collectors
Whose Hands
Are Sworn
To Clean The Mess
And Keep The Pieces

[...] Read more

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Learning The Art Of Loving

it is a hug that you need
when some parts of you dangle
on your shoulder
like the way your your hair
shouts for help
for fear of falling
and here i am coming
to hug you
this kind of hug that sings
the song of
apple pickers
and

garbage collectors
whose hands
are sworn
to clean the mess
and keep the pieces

to put them all away

[...] Read more

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I was a Graceful Angel

In my dream, I was a graceful Angel
Whispering words, that flutter, halt offense
Members of their branch, stunt growth, they strangle
Immense debates fallen, hence, are past tense

In my dream, I was a wrathful Angel
Unwelcomed visitor of my high school
Vocalized, blasting air, ears all mangled
Papers flew, wind blew, Avenge the un-cool!

In my dream, I was a stunning Angel
My wings path, all things disintegrated
Roofs gave, walls cowered in awe, they angle
Winged creature, pure, their race I integrate

Over mountainous views and seas, I dangle
In my dream, I was a Graceful Angel

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A Crowded Trolley-Car

The rain's cold grains are silver-gray
Sharp as golden sands,
A bell is clanging, people sway
Hanging by their hands.

Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff,
Snatch and catch and grope;
That face is yellow-pale, as if
The fellow swung from rope.

Dull like pebbles, sharp like knives,
Glances strike and glare,
Fingers tangle, Bluebeard's wives
Dangle by the hair.

Orchard of the strangest fruits
Hanging from the skies;
Brothers, yet insensate brutes
Who fear each other's eyes.

[...] Read more

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Ripened Juveniles

Overpopulated by gameplayers,
Who have played out to squeeze fresh energy...
From a climate left brimming on the rim with a hope,
That an awakening snaps these jokesters to loosen their grasp...
To undo their need to dangle with such a firm grip,
On a path to mimic and not experience life sassed to flash.

Like ripened juveniles clinging fast,
To aging and dried up vines weakening...
And just can not get rid of them quick enough.
Or kick them away from sitting on the edge of potential,
To realize it with a going beyond the verge that surges.
And this has been mentioned more to bore the getting of attention.

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My Being Permeates

My conversion permeates through my being,
Solipsism shall be the thought for me;
Drooping from an attitude of cool nature,
The self is a puzzle for my own creation.
Like having arches of a door,
This self creates joy and dislike.
The real movement of this crazy life
Distends a wound on the readiness of souls.

My concerns are like the doorways,
Encyclical objects of thought.
The birth of bipeds resumes from the fore,
Their legs dangle once we are born.
In these gymnastics is an insolence,
One of the resonant sounds that apologize.
The captain of capsizing is afoot,
And the straddled human rights command a league.

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Brave Coward

Elisabeth imagines I've
A yellow streak
She deems I have no dash and drive,
Jest dogoned weak.
'A man should be a man,' says Liz
'Trade blow for blow.'
Poor kid! What my position is
She jest don't know.

She jest don't know my old man killed,
Yea, slew and slew.
As steamy blood he sweetly spilled,
So could I too.
And though no wrath of heart I show
When I see red,
I fear no S. O. B. but oh
Myself I dread.

Though fellers reckon me a dope
And trigger-shy,

[...] Read more

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