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Dear Ms. Robinson

  • Amorist Grim's picture
    (Sep 9, 2011)
    Dear Ms. Robinson                 I adore the fact that you are alive. I see how priceless a woman’s worth is with thoughts of you. Days of holding you past all my yesterdays so after tomorrows, I can have truth in it always being done. Are those my mind taunt me with so bland occasions amongst hours are in a paradise.  Jovial has a lock on my happiness just to be closer to you in my joy.  So much fear in being wrong that I don’t want to force seeing you. Aye to be wrong in any thought of you I own would shatter my wondered euphoria. One day I found you in my stride and fell in love with walking. My passion for scribe filling even started holding sentiments I saw for you. I can’t hear a song without a thought of you due to you being musically active. Mushrooms and Roses. I have watched the live screening so much on youtube I’m hurt that it stopped showing up as much. I appreciate all of your art and that song just drives me mad. I find liberty in your phrases and the release in which they are given. My imagination has taken a toll on me lately so pardon my absurd rants. Infatuation has given me a lot to eat and you get me full off those suites. What I wanted to say most though piggy backing off the Mushrooms and Roses, your music, the things you do, your phrases in an interview, my simple minded thoughts that lead to you give me hope for another day. One which my dreams of just being he who can say that the love he possesses was truly meant for the woman found amongst them. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you and I know you get this a lot. However I believe in my soul that we were, are, and should always be destined to dance as light beams do with silhouettes to cause shadows. We are made for one another.   Sincerely Yours, Derrick J Terrel
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Amorist Grim's picture
on September 02, 2011

Dear Ms. Robinson

                I adore the fact that you are alive. I see how priceless a woman’s worth is with thoughts of you. Days of holding you past all my yesterdays so after tomorrows, I can have truth in it always being done. Are those my mind taunt me with so bland occasions amongst hours are in a paradise.  Jovial has a lock on my happiness just to be closer to you in my joy.  So much fear in being wrong that I don’t want to force seeing you. Aye to be wrong in any thought of you I own would shatter my wondered euphoria. One day I found you in my stride and fell in love with walking. My passion for scribe filling even started holding sentiments I saw for you. I can’t hear a song without a thought of you due to you being musically active. Mushrooms and Roses. I have watched the live screening so much on youtube I’m hurt that it stopped showing up as much. I appreciate all of your art and that song just drives me mad. I find liberty in your phrases and the release in which they are given. My imagination has taken a toll on me lately so pardon my absurd rants. Infatuation has given me a lot to eat and you get me full off those suites. What I wanted to say most though piggy backing off the Mushrooms and Roses, your music, the things you do, your phrases in an interview, my simple minded thoughts that lead to you give me hope for another day. One which my dreams of just being he who can say that the love he possesses was truly meant for the woman found amongst them. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you and I know you get this a lot. However I believe in my soul that we were, are, and should always be destined to dance as light beams do with silhouettes to cause shadows. We are made for one another.

 

Sincerely Yours,

Derrick J Terrel

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Amorist Grim's picture

The Glasses of a Scar

Beyond me is a spot where I keep serenity
Dreaming of moments where I got to beauty
Amazing is a chant she claims, unknown to many
With others she sings losing me in her complexity
Holding her forever is too short of a time
Exceeding limits confined to a common line
Places where I know that today had a sign
Such as those before sketching her in my rhyme
Life gained weight so I think of her more
All that is sought in living being love galore
Thoughts of her flow in my equilibriums core
Justice to those concepts of just us in store
Greedy ambition ambiguity snacking
Questions self inflicted what is knowing
Love lost to wondering the likes of winning
Stuck with gone moments seeking a beginning

Amorist Words Grim

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Falling Palace of Requiem Imaginings

In search of words that bring us closer
To just give another way to reach a lover
All I have are phrases that end up together
So somewhere down the line it got clever
Like leaves in fall to justify love in season
For I tripped over infatuation for no reason
Hitting a thought laying in a grassy situation
Taken by the wind for gravity’s definition
Illustration of the past goings of future news
Telling of strides that were taken for you
Because I didn’t know what I really knew
With concepts of betterment holding you
So I look into how my arms could be those
Just the right size to fit all of your woes
On a cover where I’m your heroes and foes
In a place where you were asking me to go

Amorist Words Grim

Amorist Grim's picture

I just had to speak to you. I may exaggerate my phrase but that’s just my creativity. You have given me the best thoughts and at times I like to share them. I somehow found myself in this surreal reality where life is more than what it seems. I was told to be a prince and find my queen. After some time I closed my eyes and opened them to a thought of you. My revelation came through truly listening and after hearing you nothing I heard seemed the same. Some say I think too much, most of the time I fear that I don’t think enough. My greatest one is of how truth is only one man’s opinion that was infallible to the multitude. Being that I feel that truth is made. However, that doesn’t make general opinions more than they are unless validity is amongst the words. I said that to initiate the fact that I wonder where my terms fit on my realization spectrum. I believe in “truths” (aside from my religion, Baptist Christian) that I can’t prove to the multitude but I truly feel they exist. As I said I have been known to be a thinker and maybe I needed to tease my thoughts with what could be in a place beyond me. Yet not being able to prove myself wrong nor right for that matter kind of froze me in time. I have a few hopes beyond me as some could say and faith in the unknown because regardless that is all it is at the time being. But these are just specks on the radar of thoughts I have. Nothing of importance…

Amorist Grim's picture

Dear Ms.
I watch time as thoughts that intuition sought. Beauty being a warrior that taught a lesson on love fought. As I drift on her concepts, sliding on concrete. When looking up at times makes beyond me my feet. That place where hope is in a note sang then written of sincerely. A portend in what seems as a pretend of a distant memory. Knowing it should be had because she was there. The best beginning to a never ending story in hopes someone does hear. That this tale goes well with a realistic spill. The mess of reality skipped though for real. Side walked stages in shoes that make gravel smooth. I think she made nature interested in me with her soothe. I pray more now because only God can be the reason in us getting closer. Hate has a hold on the world; hear it called for. At times she calls for one and I just want to be that much. Childlike grown dreams when told seem as nonesuch. When they are of a love that needs faith; with me, working on being full of it. Fear in being wrong forces my want to be right and being me is something I can’t quit. So to her who let go hoping someone heard giving ambition to my scribe. She who the more noticed couldn’t be more elevated than. To my super woman I’m a super fan. At times when your flight is off my breeze hopes it can keep her soaring. Lost on those seconds where first she was summer raining. The saga of twenty four acts that was a bittersweet play. With I refusing to be told bye today. So a fleet of tomorrows hope to get to where she is. Simply because that’s where I dance with you square biz.

Cupid “Amorist Words Grim” Valentino

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A Patient Dining on Time

With a kiss from the future to begin
Yesterdays and the todays wait to win
Appreciation’s joy now being from then
With enough gratitude for a few big bins
In line seeking seconds a minute too late
Hours, poured into a glass next to a Plate
Time was kept by her he saw in his fate
Endless counting had an unknown date
Yet everyday was one of hope in being
That tomorrow in the hands now going
Around the waist of that goddess singing
Some instance that occurred worth waiting
Catering to anticipation as a kind habit
Looking at the next day to be as those went
Knowing she will come so lingering won’t quit
All the while hoping that really there was a hint

Amorist Words Grim

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Love’s Soulful Tune

To feel beyond words is true living
Phrases can’t pick up on a hearts tuning
Understanding reality came beyond singing
However the melody is always trying
To grasp that souls desire the theory, devotion
Mingling with passion cloaked in love’s fashion
Lyrics soothing the moment with close relation
Yet the yearning of a spirit has kept its opinion
That what I have is beyond the mere concept
A beat made the move but the occasion leapt
Making what was had entering equal to when left
Finding bliss when hanging on lines was that cleft
All in time to come back to that letter from ago
Explaining that grantees on love have to undergo
All the bad of a good situation sang on a flow
Showing that everything with love just go’s

Amorist Words Grim

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Gratitude belittles the the feeling I can't shake at the moment, but it's the closest I can get. You have once more rattled my world while showing me a miracle. The truth is beyond me however how much can eyes deceive what in all honesty is right before them. With moves like mine I have fallen in love.

Amorist Grim's picture

Freedom is a word of ambiguity, being that it differs on what an individual defines after the term. Also have you been that caged bird that sang? It sang for the feeling of its freedom while being caged... The only glory that can or should come from passion is with devotion for the gift of love. I kind of differ in the logic that Ms. Monae can be called love and not have the ability to part-take in it. I have heard her sing in strides for it... If music be the food of love may it be an air sandwich needed for survival. In my opinion at least. Just so its gorge is one to live off of to be a reason for there to be something to come.

Socrates's picture

Do you know why the caged bird sings? it sings for Freedom. While I totally understand your passion and all its glory. Remember, Janelle is the Creator's gift to us. Not to be contained spiritually or emotionally. Her gift is the gift of giving. She is one of the chosens. The pain of unrequited love is one of great stress. But alas, the antidote has only begun. It was Shakespeare who said " If music be the food of love, play on, Give me the excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die". We shall all gorge on the excess of what is to come.

We mortals are often humbled in the presence of God's work. Let us remain humbled, respectful, and ever embracing of the love that is before us. We may never pass this way again, but enjoying this journey will not only strengthen us in this lifetime, but any other dimension we will ultimately dwell in. Make no mistake about it, we all know and understand that Janelle IS Love.

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The Room of Daydreams

Perfection is a distorted image with you as the mode
Wishing I was your favorite chair; a spot in your abode
Setting the tone for your comfort amongst your space
In the midst of all your likes I inhabit a place
Yet with virtue being you, I’ve got to get a good thing
So I dream what a lover dreamt waiting for its being
Resting on hope as a coat you prefer on a labeled hanger
Where you can be the hanger holding me up as I cover
The fact that suspense couldn’t hold me without you
Living in a world of macaroni art where love is gravity’s glue
Playing as time is bliss because seconds are cherished
Amongst the putting together minutes got joy pushed
Only to bump into you when the hours round home
Seeking more ways to appreciate days with you as my sone
Necessity summed in the midst of weeks that got strong
Where hunting was brought with months that seem wrong

Amorist Words Grim

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Dear Ms. Mayweather,
I am wondering if you had a happy hunting. If so I should have been there amongst your smiling. For the reason of now and days; when I find my smile in your play. Meeting a moon that I want to be a sun to. In love with hope that I have some light to give to you. A place where purgatory is my doubt that I will get to you. A letter to tomorrow signed by you in hopes it’s addressed to me. Page turners finding reality in fantasy. Days when the crowd shouts make me wonder where is my mind. With lines in songs being about him with one on his head; a sign? Who knows but at times I dance away from death. Skipping past avenues faster or sliding like a skitzo that a palace left. With a walk showing one locked in a dream that should only get better. A life certainly of grim tones through beats of complex weather. Yet most are brain freezing cold battles. That run into a dab of “D” that a sane thought can’t belittle. But balance must be kept on a tightrope, that shred of hope. Always to the moon is the path where a bright appetite seeks neon gumbo. Backwards phrases that call to a dim lover. Forethought, that I should be your other. Just as a part of you as if my missing rib was planted and helped your frame. And I healed for three years to find you and become alive. Living with your talk of there being a lover being why I survive. Where mushrooms and roses are only a prelude to a third suite (sweet), as if the first two were drenched in sugar. Then again on Neon Valley Street the gumbo needs desserts like sweet sticky things in honey are. Bus lingo gets beyond me so I tune it out while trying to get you in. With ambition that Wondaland rocks my stairway to heaven. Because forever mine would be blissful shouts with me who is you one. Sure there are millions that your lyrics reach but I want to be the one you are asking to go. Just so we never say goodbye because we couldn't stop saying hello. That's Metropolis meeting The Lover's Rock.

Cupid Valentino

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Air Sandwich Dance

With a breeze playing a tune for our gyration
Defiance of gravity is studied with admiration
Taught in life lifting the boundaries of a hold
Redefining air to pavement ignorant to getting old
Jam couldn’t come between our coming together
Breaking fast for food soaring to each other
Suspension is bacon so on strips of wind we pan
Heated space between feet and earth; the illusion fan
Walked over so something has blame for difference
Eggs are time scrambled so days lack sense
Making her and I bread undivided while cooking
With a spread of jams as reason to a meaning
That a cloud couldn’t hold what our dance made
So we went around them making storms delayed
Never leaving ground yet always above the atmosphere
But that’s just how it is when everything is in her being here

Amorist Words Grim

Amorist Grim's picture

I don't know if androids dream of Jane, but I know this lover does.
(Terrel rhymes with Janelle)

Amorist Grim's picture

From The Dreamer Locked in The Middle

To she who made being centered a way of living
On a thin shred of air; yea, to her who is sliding
To want belittles the need so I desire a must
Losing myself to a frame as if winning was your bust
Portraits of goddesses aren’t considered sketches to your silhouette
A frame to hold if ever a chance was presented that let
Speaking at times isn’t saying so thought lingers silent
Shouts go whispered on lyrics mimicking unknown hints
With an aromic ear living to a feel of the unnoticed
In the state of her as if phrases have me hocused
Found with a thought that someday leads to truth
Where living is pop rocks dancing with a sweet tooth
That place we are proof of another time keeping space
A spot where running isn’t considered in race
Not when victory rest on features my pupils are drawn to
As if I had to see a she perfect for me to believe it’s you

Amorist Words Grim

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Blind Ambition

Feeling Shakespearean, hoping Fair Monae speaks again
A phrase for me would only keep me amongst thoughts sane
Or some saying that her future can rest with me
Tomorrows sought today, in short, such as calling me Amory
Dazzling concepts a profile owns; and I want to use my seal
Permanent messages locked in her, read to a chill
Cloaked in cape she levitates on a line flying with a spin
She flies, it’s Jane and I hope she’s heading where she begins
West of all that is east having faith in a chance
Better today’s giving hope for one which we share a dance
At least a glance should be held in palms meant to hold on
Multitasked pupils handling some conversation
Seen if shown that blind titles still define the scribe written
Maybe of a rib that took place in the design you were given
The brief wonders of one hoping to have learned
Words of a fool for she whom he wishes had some in return

Amorist Words Grim

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Amorist is Seeking Love

Hate took a toll on the present
People’s fear of falling is stamped evident
Living up to past pains are current joys
Phrases from ago that now employs
Change got patient; with desire of virtue
While I got lost in thoughts that saw you
Lines of bliss telling future times of yore
Read to my temple keeping you amongst the core
Hope is a feast that faith is serving
Dreams are the dessert in the making
Passion is sought by those lacking devotion
Unknowing that together is a better combustion
For the bomb there is, is said to be innovative
Beauty is held as an idea not taken figurative
Tales of two who belong past today so all cry for tomorrow
While I’m trying to catch up to her who was letting go

Amorist Words Grim

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