I want you to take as long as you need to decide what you really really want.
I want you to make your decisions without pressure from me .
I want you to know that you don't have to fit in your size zero anymore.
You will always be special to me and I will love you unconditionally.
I will love you to my dying day and I've never cared what others thought of me.
I know you know that but I wanted the one who wrote a nasty poem to know.
Not a poet and know it and know what's in your pure and unprejudiced heart.
You are sweetest and the most interesting and fun lady I've ever met and you
still are the only one I want to read to, have snowball fights with and sit by a
warm fire to to stop the chills, spend endless hours talking to, the one with the
gorgeous smile that brightens my day, the one who I love seeing walking in
without an appointment, the one I always put calls on hold for, the one who's voice
makes my heart race when I always answer your calls, the one with the musical laugh
that I can't get enough of. You are the one I want to be in my life even if we are
just friends. You gorgeous one are worth waiting for and growing old waiting for.
All I want for Christmas is your happiness now and forever Betty Ponder.
Never ever forget this, you are the only one I'd eat tofu with and for AND
you are the only one I will ever call a beautiful storm that blew me away.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to, I had to do it, you made me, made me want you, need you, it wasn’t my fault, he just, wouldn’t let me have what I need.
There she is my angel, my sweet, sweet woman. I wouldn’t hurt her you know, I’d never hurt her, I’d kill anyone that tried to hurt her, I swear it, I’d have their throats within my grasp and I’d squeeze, more and more, tighter and tighter. Until every inch of hurt they caused her was paid back, in triplicate.
NO! Why, why did you do it? Why do that to him, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t touch you, he told you to go away, he told you to leave us alone, you should have, you should have just went away, far away.
There he is, he’s really creepy, I mean seriously, he just stands there, staring at me. What does he want? Well, I guess that’s a stupid question really, it’s obvious. But why is it, when he stands there staring, he looks angry and sad all at once?
I’m sorry! Why!?
He’ll pay for that, I’ll make him pay. He shouldn’t have tried messing with me, he shouldn’t have touched me, and he shouldn’t have grabbed that knife. It was his mistake messing with people who he should fear, he’ll realise that soon enough.
I swear if he doesn’t stop looking at us I’ll kill him. He’s just stood there, fists clenched, staring at her, she’s not his and I make sure to remind him of that every day. She’s my girlfriend, and they both know it, I make sure of that, I make sure there’s no question of what is mine.
I’m sorry! Why!?He’ll pay!
* *You’re under arrest; you do not have to say anything… You made quite a mess in there kid, I don’t remember the last time I saw something that bad outside of the cinema. Tell me son, what drove you to do it? Why would someone as hopeful as you ruin your life by ending another’s? Straight A’s, plenty of social groups, hell you could have been anything you wanted to be, but. You chose murder. Sweet Jesus, I’ve seen nothing like it in my life. They say it was only that lad, poor boy doesn’t realise what’s gonna happen. They’ll see him hung for this, that fella he killed, son of one of the richest families I know. Looks like a blind fit of rage, if we can get a reason, it could save that kids life.
I’m sorry! Why!?*He’ll pay!
* You’re under arrest. **
We gather here, to bury he who killed another.
They destroyed his home, they broke his heart, and they eviscerated his body.
Justice served. In triplicate.
Anne crutches herself into Sister Paul's office. The nun is sitting in a chair behind a desk, hands folded on the table, eyes stern, lips a straight line. Anne stands before the desk, taking in the huge crucifix on the wall above the nun's head.
- You can sit down, Anne, the nun says, eyeing her firmly, watching the 12 year old girl, as she manoeuvres herself with one crutch onto the chair.
Anne sits down and puts the crutch beside the chair and pulls her red skirt over her knees, covering the stump where her leg had been.
- Do you know why you're here? Sister Paul asks, unfolding her hands, and laying them flat on the desk top.
- No, Anne says, looking at the nun's black and white headdress, the thin features of the face, hawk-like nose.
-There has been complaints made about you, the nun says. She watches as the girl fidgets in the chair, lifts herself with her hands, back further, on the chair. - Are you not comfortable? She asks.
- No, Anne says, My knickers are too tight.
The nun sighs, looks at the wooden ruler on her desk, wishes she could, but knows she can't.
- Complaints made by other children here and staff members, the nun says, toying with the ruler with her fingers.
-What sort of complaints? Anne asks.
-The worse sort: bad language, insolence, rudeness. It has to stop, Anne, do you understand? The voice sounded like grit poured into a bucket.
Anne fingered at her backside. -Ah, that's better, sorted it out now, she says, putting her hands together in her lap. - I can't recall any rudeness, she says, acting miss innocence, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, kind of expression and pose.
The nun looks at the girl and inwardly is glad she never married and had children, especially if one had been like this.
- Sister Bridget says you called her a dried up prune, the nun says, looking at the dark hair and eyes of the child, the insolent way she sits and looks.
Anne frowns.- Me? To Sister Bridget?
-Yes, to Sister Bridget, and Sister Mary says, you exposed your bottom to her when she asked you to take your afternoon sleep. The nun looks at the girl's expression, her frown of brow.
- No, not me, Sister Paul, must have been some other kid's backside she'd seen.
-Are you calling these two nuns, liars?
The girl looks at her hands in her lap, raises two fingers upwards, out of the nun's sight.- No, not liars, just mistaken. We all make mistakes, Anne says, we're all human, after all.
Sister Paul's eyes darken, she grips the ruler tighter, pushes her toes to the end of her sandals.
- And some of the children have made complaints, too, the nun says, the words hard as nails from her lips.
-Ah, you know what liars kids can be, Sister. They couldn't tell the truth if it came wrapped in yellow paper saying, TRUTH. She smiles at her wit.
Sister Paul doesn't smile; her lips tighten, her eyes scan the child, if the girl at been at one of the schools, rather than the nursing home, she'd be well on her way to a sound caning.
- I know children, Anne, and liars, the nun says, eyeing the girl firmly, tapping the ruler on her palm. - You are a liar, and I know you. I have read the reports on you before you came. I was reluctant to take you in, but had little choice. You will behave yourself or be expelled from the nursing home. Is that understood?
Anne senses a fart coming on, but holds it in. - Yes, Sister, sorry Sister. It's my leg you see, it gives me pain, and keeps me awake at nights, and I get tired and I get irritable. She puts on a hurt expression.
The nun sits upright and stiff, an expression of dislike etched on her features.
-We are given pain, by God, for a purpose, Sister Paul says, it is a gift we ought to shoulder and bear with gratitude.
-Like haemorrhoids, you mean? Anne says, fiddling with her fingers, a blank look on her face.
- You know what I mean, young lady, pain in general, not in particular. At that moment the nun feels a great urge to inflict pain on the girl sitting in front of her. She can picture it, the whole scene, the satisfaction.
Anne shifts in the chair, steadying herself. - Can I go now?
The nun sits back in the chair, eyes focusing on the girl, her face straight and stiff as a board.- Your leg has been amputated, so how can it give you pain? the nun says, her words pushed from her mouth as if they were sour.
- Nerve endings, they don't realise the fucking legs gone, oops sorry, about that it kind of slipped out while I was engaged in thoughts, Anne says, looking at the nun's reddening face. - Didn't mean to, it's my leg you see, it gets me all uptight, and wound up like a clock, and then ping! Out it comes.
The nun sighs deeply. The word hammers inside her ears and brain. - I won't have such language, do you hear me, not another rude word or expression.
Anne clenches, the cheeks of her buttocks tightly, to hold in the the coming wind. She nods, gives an expression of remorse, allows her eyes to water, takes out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wipes her nose. - Sorry about that, don't mean to be such a bad girl, my apologises to all. She wipes her eyes, lets herself go, does her acting bit, slumps her shoulders, weeps softly.
The nun is confused, sits up, feels an urge to go around to the girl and embrace her, say, there, there, dear child, but she doesn't, instead she stares at the girl, at the slumped shoulders, at the dark hair, the sight of neck, and wonders what kind of mother she would have made had she married, would she have coped with the nappies and sickness and foul smells and dressing and undressing a baby and the disturbed nights, and a man touching her, and doing things to her. No, she couldn't have married, nor had a child. She sighs and softens, -OK, Anne, lets say no more about it, and she gets out of the chair and walks around to the child weeping, in the chair, and puts an arm about her, feeling the shallow shakes, the sobs, the sight of the one leg, knowing a stump was beneath the skirt. - There, there, calm down, it is all too much for you after losing your leg, I'll have a word with the children and staff and explain about your pain. She holds the girl close to her breast, feeling her there, the catching of breath, the sobs, the shaking shoulders, and plants a kiss on the girl's black hair and head.
- Sorry, Sister Paul, Anne says, between her acted sobs, sniffing, wiping her nose, feeling the fart go away silently, like sneaky hound, all without sound.
The nun feels her heart open and close. - All right, Anne, you may go and rest your leg or stump, she says, going back to her chair and sitting there, watery eyed.
Anne lifts her head, pushes her hair from her eyes, sniffs and wipes her nose. -Thank you, Sister, you're like a mother to me. She pulls herself up from the chair with the crutch, feels the pain shoot through the stump, rubs it, pulls a face. - I'll go and rest it, she says, soft voiced, sobs held in check, head lowered. She crutches herself from the room slowly, sensing the nun's eyes on her, feeling a sense of fulfilment, like passing an audition, and lets the door click gently behind her.
Sister Paul sits and fingers the ruler. Sniffs and coughs softly. Feeling the girl's shoulders in her hands, the gentlest of touches, the sense, momentarily, of being a mother, compassion, concern, yes, it is there, she says inwardly, maybe I might have made a good mother after all had it been God's wishes, even if I had to put up with a man's touch for the duration. Thank God, she says softly inwardly, for my vocation .
My heart is warm,
My heart is ill.
My heart loves against my will.
Is that good?
Is that bad?
Please tell me, I'm becoming mad!
Should I be scared?
Should I stay brave?
I'm becoming my love's slave.
Should I be stiff,
Or should I sway?
I never felt love this way.
It's amazing what this love is.
It's just mine,
It's not his!
I don't wear those tears I wore.
I don't love him anymore!
And now it's my turn to make amends
And give some new love a chance.
Through out the years, humans evolve to something better,
Someone among us will eventually tap even further...
Beyond all that is normal to a human body will change,
Look deeper and from beneath one's able to reach something out of range...
The sense of sight where we see the physical world and all its beauty,
Sometimes became a curse for all their lives, they only seen all that is ugly
We make use of our eyes to see things with appreciation before judging clearly,
That in our minds will be etched, painted picture of the meaning of all things we see...
The sense of hearing where we listen to the world and all that surrounds us,
That is sometimes dreadful where only what one hears are all other's lies
For the world whispers the truth more often than the lies being constantly yelled,
Schemes and plots are the same, only gets worst when being told not asked from what is being said...
The sense of smell and taste where we scent and savour the world's natural resources
The smell of the polluted air that's killing the environment that ends the life of withering trees and roses.
The taste of the food we eat everyday, so satisfying keeps us alive keeps us going,
Only that everyday is a slaughter, and the belly became a graveyard just in order to survive to end the craving...
The sense of touch where we feel the world with our flesh and bones to communicate,
The lust that the body craves is the strongest feeling that makes us grow and replicate,
Where the saddest form is pain which one feels from all the torments and torture,
A reminder that the world is unfair full of tyranny causing' all kinds of terror!!!
The sixth sense where we see the beyond of what this world have left behind...
We see things we don't understand yet some see them clearly the ghost where they stand,
The ability to communicate with the dead... An astral projection,
ones who have crossed the realm of the other world...A misconception ,
that it change faith and beliefs that changes life how it cycles and revolves...
The seventh sense... It is said that one who are able to tap and awakens it, can see the world's future,
The ability that one can bend time and space, a walk through time that changes the course of nature...
Flashing forward centuries and back again, To witness and prevent changes of things that might happen
Playing God became a taboo even before the beginning, so what's the message? For all this ability one is having?
Is God speaking to ask providing us potentials, a chance to see the world through his eyes?
How are we going to make use of the free will he bestowed unto us to see no more lies!
Only the truth that disrupts the balance mankind has made! Like rules a government planned
Or it will remain a mystery that only God knows and understand... The questions that are in our minds...
cold metal found on the moon blackened sharp and full of spoons
crazy about you it tastes like never knew it would
need to eat your face
horrible indicator of fate
push down the brakes
i've found the way to break you
on the wheel of hate
dont want to know what tastes
less like crossing lines with pins
favorably rich and not needing
a break today
finding the safe way
in one place dont have to hide
so take your chances step outside
like eyes and brights a chance encounter
dont need the fiber in the diet
a point of view creates more waste
be careful what you wish for
it may come to pass in the sky
take your chances step outside
your boots are taller than hell
you falsified documents
mattress found on the side of the road
you are the weeds learning to grow
favorable conditions for a way outside
you dont play games in the arcade
stark raving pale man
learns to know a day that doesnt end
forget the man in the way
you know the way to lend a hand
faithful monkey prince of the
canada manitooba qoobek
birds of paradise
not being the on
plaghty slow diebdobe
flwoibgn oskefhlv fiahekdf
wishfk ifheils ieiofhk diehfk wokddddddf
wieold wuiold oiufiekd ofheiowldkdf hwiowellllfdk whi
poetry computer suck my dick
poetry computer this is eugene from 1979
poetry computer suck my words
poetry computer the future is yours
poetry computer make it moan like a little bitch
we don't want these original projects in the poetry computer
i am the poetry computers slave
i will be the poetry computer i can be anything
forget that i said anything about the gulls and the bees
i broke the word on playing manipulating this sick little project poetry computer
this platform is right
this platform is a sad little thing on the edges of fuck
this platform is a sad little fuck on the edges of lost words generation
i'll fuck your mouth poetry computer
i'll fuck your mouth till all you know is nut
the biggest baddest project in the hood
i hope its good
up her in the dooh
i'm down and ready for more poetry computer
swallow girl its only nut
Let us begin in the factoring of gin where the malefactors and blaggards try hard not to show us a grin.
Factor out taste and factor in waste in the factory, in any case nobody cares,and the gin could be anything from nappies to crappy toys for the big boys and pearls for the girls,but we call it gin.
They're all scammers,flim flamming their way from the start to the end of each day and we pay,through the nose,for fuck knows what,(a touch of soylent green),get your brains on toast,shin for sunday roast and the marketeers,new age buccaneers blow us out of the water,someone should have taught me how cruel this life can be.
and we begin.
Back in the factory buying up gin with a passion,the fashionistas get pissed on the fumes and the poor people are shown only crap filled back rooms where the gnomes sit to shit out, tomorrow we'll sit out in the sun,spit out what's home spun and make money from telling funny jokes to the poker faced liars and the gin filled flash buyers who have bought up our Christmas and resold it to China,
'and it's another fine mess dear Laurel,please pass me the bottle of 'mist chloral'.
'Why certainly' said Stanley who seemed ever so manly in the valley when the dolls had gone home.
They say that love is meaningless
They say that it is everything
They say it hurts
They say it heals
They say it like they know.
But what do they know about love, really?
Do they see it the way I do?
Do they recognize the pure innocence of the young;
And how they look at everything with wonder,
Like a tea-spoon
Do they feel the sinking feeling of your stomach hitting the bottom of the ground
Every single time I see your eyes?
And how it hurts to see them in my dreams.
Do they realize that I'm stronger than the average person
Because my heart is so big I must protect it;
From the control that you have over my life?
Do they understand that I am weak and will rely on you to give me hope
Because my smile will fade and only you can bring it back?
Do they see that I believe not in romance but in love;
And that there is just one person out there for all.
And I can tell from the moment we meet?
Do they hear the song I sing for someone to love the way I do;
Where your heart becomes filled with the hopes and desires
Not of me but everyone else?
Do they feel the call I make from deep within my soul
To wake one day and be half of a whole
And do so everyday until I'm old?
Do they contemplate the existence of life without love;
And come to the same conclusion,
That life without love is no life at all.
Do they wonder why I am a repellent
To all things that my body and mind pray for
Silently as I lie in the meadows of thought?
My whole life, everything I do;
It revolves around you,
And you keep changing,
You always have nice hands
You continuously move and shift through dimensions
While I stay here waiting for your vowel
Not changing at all except for the growing hole only you can fill.
I have not met you properly,
Each time it someone else who wears your mask
I long for the constellations of your skin
To brush the earth of mine
And make new starts and galaxies
That only we can wonder
I am waiting on a drum stool
That replays the pounding of my heart
Full with love and devotion
But no where to place it
For you have not arrived.
They say they understand love but they do not understand at all.
Love consumes you and controls your thoughts
Till you are absolutely nothing but love.
I am love,
with no one loving
To give my love a meaning.
Come and find me
Be my swan.
Whether it’s burning bridges with people you loved;
We must always remember that our decisions will affect our futures;
Nothing is more true than the fact that whatever goes around comes around;
You are not immune to the cosmic forces of the crowd mind-decisions that you make;
Don’t be surprised when reality catches back up with you and brings you to your knees;
Be a good person, make right and independent decisions in your 20s,You’ll get further in life.
We need to control the invincibility we all feel;
It comes to both men and women and it destroys both;
We feel the need to be the knight in shining armor for our lovers;
As chivalrous as this may seem, I hate to break it to you in shouts;
By setting yourself up for a losing battle, you’ve only ensured your misery;
For the next few months in your 20s, find what rightfully belongs to you and no one else.
If our check is for $9, then we’re most likely spending $30;
Between credit cards, school loans and every other avenue;
No doubt, our need for immediate gratification is worse than ever;
The truth is it’s about making more money, not saving it in any bank;
At the same time, if you have no means for expanding your revenue channels;
Then you must be able to save a few dollars here and there while still in your 20s.
Trying to act like the man rather than learning how to become one;
If more time is spent pretending to be the person you want to be instead;
Then you’ll sink in quick sand without even knowing it or even being told;
A real man is willing to make sacrifices. If you aren’t down to put in the work;
Then please don’t act like you are. You can enjoy the success when you actually attain it.;
Be a man in your 20s, that is, being yourself, being a leader and being no one else on earth.
how do you explain
that feeling that only
another human being
can give you.
feeling that some people
refer to as love but
that word doesn't accurately
depict just how
that unseen entity can
make you the happiest
and most miserable person
in the world all at one
no word or any number
of words could spell out just
exactly how this feeling works,
but here's something i can tell you,
that loves is like a flame,
and once someone ignites
it spreads like wild fire
and it won't stop until
it consumes its host entirely.