All poems found containing the word stuff
Blake Nelson "The amount of stuff, another persons life"

We ran through that house like we lived there
Cursing the filth and praising the clutter
The amount of stuff, another persons life
It was ours to desecrate, it was ours

And I spent all winter (or damn near all winter)
Trying to get warm
And I lost all my time to the intricacies of your youth
Only to find it in my room at night
Those nights killed me in the way one kills time

Now I spend all summer trying to get cool
My blankets big enough for two, there's plenty time to run through
Kill me with those eyes that drown me in hope
And I hand over everything I've ever known for an hour in your presence

meuxicalprodigy "duced that he might not be that fond of stuff toys like her anyway."

"Ate kahit 400"
"Hindi po talaga ito pinagbibili eh" Said Carla apologetically as she smiles with half of her teeth shown  
"500, sige na please. Bibigay ko rin po sa boyfriend ko eh" pleaded the girl wearing sandals as she pulled out a blue colored three headed paper bill from her leather wallet.

From the looks of things Carla had a hard time to decide.
After giving her the change. She then tiptoed to remove a clip that attaches a teddy bear to a plastic rack
and had it put to a cardboard box for her.
It was the only thing out of place from her little stall that sells for Class-A jackets and school bags.

"It was a good deal" Carla thought as the girl wearing that sandal left and put it near her car
She was planning to give it to someone else but deduced that he might not be that fond of stuff toys like her anyway.

She remembered about almost a week ago when she accompanied her mother to their supplier to purchase secondhand merchandise that they were going to resell. She noticed that teddy bear in a really bad shape and got the suppliers permission to keep it. She then mending it was easy for her exceptional stitching skills.

"A few more hours" she thought as she looked on the wall clock and sat on a small wooden stool barely six inches high and fanning her sweaty chest. In parallel to older vendors  who are unlike her reading tabloid newspapers and watching Will time Big Time merely dissipated fromwhile eating fish variations and kamatis.

It was Valentines Day any moment college students like her would all come rushing through the gates and turn the business table of that lazy afternoon.
True enough. Moments later.
The sidewalk gradually begins to be congested by students as much as the road.
She could
__

About Eight in the evening. Carla then decided to made the trade off between taking advantage of the occassion or closing down the shop. Afterall, she had more than enough to buy her mother the medicine which she badly so needed and was suppose to take her place that day. She then took out a few hundreds from a rusty ton box (which was once a kiddie meal toy a few years ago).
Went inside KFC's and perked herself up.

Lambda "and other stuff."

Columbian Eden;
In an October descent:
Yesterday we're innocent,
Then time is rend.

Consecrating her lips
with another crimson layer,
A red-stained cigarette
and fiendish black hair.

This place is our day,
Eternity
does remain.

Rapturous Olympus;
On skin droplets of water caress:
"Some people feel the rain,
Others just get wet."

Standing shirtless
his declaration was blessed,
As water fell
on his demonic chest.

Doomsday kiss,
Infinity
and other stuff.

Neoteric Paradise;
Exile Vilify the individuals' convergence:
Unhindered by the precipitating blitz,
We're lost in the drizzle of descending mist.

The outcast crowd know
a different kind of bliss.
The overcast cloud shows
context is all that ever is.

"All those moments will be lost in time
like tears in rain."
Ion chaser ate a hurricane.

Quotes:
-Lines Eleven and Twelve ascribed to Roger Miller
-Lines Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine devised by Rutger Hauer (As Roy Batty)

Brief rememory of a day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PhSTN8Q7cD8
Acacia Rose "'t like this feeling of churning up old stuff"

This one time, in biology, we learned how to take samples of fish in water, I don't like fish
And I don't like this feeling of churning up old stuff
You had to scrape the bottom ten times and then take a step and repeat
Going back over the things that happened between me and you is the very same
My stomach churns like the water in that lake
And I'm a little fish getting lost in the chaos, finally to be trapped in the net
And all the dirt, the mess and the muck, that's  
Those days, after you left, where everything was dark again
Like that one time, not in biology, I felt that I was stuck down a well, and I was clawing at the mud but I couldn't get out
And in Chemistry, I got some acid on my skin
And I let it burn
Because it was nice to feel something else
Other than the murky, brown mess
And now, I'm that little fish, churned up and confused, waiting for the water to settle so I can swim away
They say you can't swim in the same river twice because every second it's changing
And reliving this and reliving us is a little different each time as it gets further, more distant from the first time
I hope that the little fish keeps swimming til she finds the ocean, I don't think the little fish could cope being churned up and caught just one more time

Bob Horton "If you ignore the hot stuff blowing out of parliament these days"

I – Rain Over the Dying Empire
The Weather Forecast looks grim today
This mess won’t clear up any time soon
So button up your jackets and turn up your collars
And mark up your calendars for a time of grey skies
There’s a storm on the way
We’ll all be blown away
The reign will never end
Until we’re washed clean off the map
But don’t you worry darling viewers
Just find yourselves a shelter, you’ll be fine
Don’t go scrambling in the smog to find hope: it’s always there
It pains me to be the bringer of bad news
Oh! Dearest Public I always pride myself in saying Tomorrow will be a brighter day
But oh! My friends I also promised I would never lie to you
We have serious weather warnings on the way
They will ravage your livelihoods but don’t let them take your souls
We stand strong against the tide of the oncoming gale, the hail and the thunder
If they weather away each tiny bit of all you hold dear
Raise your fist to the angry sky and scream for what is right
I promise, one day, sunshine will be legal again
I’ve tried to make you laugh and I’ve tried to make you cry
But it’s difficult when describing the movements of cold air across the land
If you ignore the hot stuff blowing out of parliament these days
It’s possible to force a smile: a fraction of happiness for hollow promises
They know nothing of how to save the world, they just want to escape
They’re harvesting the strong so they can find another home
Sure, they bejewel their guillotine as it hangs above your throat
Because they think that you’re impressionable but my advice is let them think so
Because Nature wants out of the pact she made when God abandoned us here
And they just want revenge because she’s stronger than they’ll ever be
The Mother they used to love, that they cast down, has come to kiss them with her poison passion
She won’t ask for their forgiveness as she beats them down, begging for hers
I’ll leave you with my darkest secret since you probably won’t see me again
As they surround me I want to let you know it’s been incredible
Striding through the desert carrying you upon my shoulders
And so I’ll thank you and blow a goodnight kiss to you
If there’s anyone they’ve left alive
They have finally come for me
Goodbye

II – The Broken Figurehead Speaks
We interrupt this broadcast with a message from the high command
Good evening noble people, please ignore what you have just heard
And keep on working for our greater good
For as we all know, it is better than theirs
Regrettably, my tolerance is thin for behaviour like that of our darling Weather Reporter
And my mercy is negligible for those who stand against us…

III – Martyrdom for Sunshine
As I stand above the ocean, with the army at my back, looking out at this sunset
It feels like the first time I have seen such beauty
Though waves gallop into the cliff below there is a malleable peace
It penetrates to the deepest corner of my heart
As they load their guns and prepare to fire, I think of the others who they have killed
And how privileged I am to have the sun as the last thing I see
If God will have me I’ll happily join his angels now
I look down the crippled rock face to the water, miles below
What have I got to lose?
I’m going to learn to fly…

Published: 17.05.2012, The Poetry Society, YM: New Work in Poetry, Issue 7
Mike T Minehan "real split peach and cream stuff."

I write in praise of art,
specifically, the spectacle of
Ng’s bare arse. Yes,
this is simply because I have to say
Ng’s bare arse is magnificent.
It’s not a bouncing Botticelli but it’s
a slim, firm bottom, subtly rounded,
real split peach and cream stuff.
And Ng at the other end
is a real nice person, too!
She's my friend, see?

But back to Ng’s bare arse. I contemplate
this vision, along with the meaning of life,
quite often in broad daylight
with a slash of sunlight across her little buns.
This is more profound than the Tait, the Louvre,
the Met, the Frick, the Neue, the Helly, the Hermitage or even
the National Portrait Gallery all bunged in together.
Ng's bare arse is also better, by far,
than anything you can see at the Bolshoi or La Scala.

I’m amazed at how much I’m amazed by
this work of art. It’s awesome.
And I betcha the most famous galleries would
fall over themselves to display this finest little arse, that is,
if the world wasn't so hung up with hypocrisy and hysteria,
yeah, it'd be heaps more famous than the Mona Lisa.

Geno Cattouse "Playing blind man's bluff what tawdry stuff and you to boot."

Well the words are there . The way you look out from behind your hair
Tells me confusion swirls. In your mind there is a thing awaiting to. Be set free. My heart aches for you and for me.
But then what was our recipe
Blind youth meets heart hungry traveler.
The great unraveler pulled his pound of flesh from the rotting carcass of our indiscretions, the glaring foil of me to the twisted open ended question named you then. now.
what has changed but the economy and the weather  Still together like
carcass and coffin.
Playing blind man's bluff what tawdry stuff and you to boot.
A pathology in pumps.
tipping through life
somebody elses wife.

SexySloth "where I'll readily stuff my face in and hide under a rock"

Behind this little curtain, I hide.
I do not lie, but I do not tell the truth either.
I do not flash it in your face,
but I'm afraid you may know my

secret.

If this happens, everything will turn upside down
and I need to find a paper bag,
where I'll readily stuff my face in and hide under a rock
Until maybe all magically is forgotten.

I am ready to tell you the truth, however,
although my paper is transparent, a see-through glass,
piles of white lies may start to stain it and soon,
it will be so opaque you have to dig deep into there
To finally see the face that's hiding behind.

I am not desperate or a stalker,
or you know,
the one that sends you long text messages
and waits eagerly for a short reply.
Whenever I try to forget you,
you pop into my memory and tempt me into no bounds
of imagination. It's necessary I try not to follow,
but I always end up falling in the same hole.

So please understand, that if I suddenly reveal my identity,
do not be taken aback because this is what I have to do,
for you have caused me to be slightly obsessive and
longing for even a slight bit of communication between
us. The us that I dream of, the us that happened, what of it is left?

To start anew? This is rather painful. I don't want to forget, you see.
You were so lovely and sweet. How can I erase you from my memory?

People come and go, but you stay, longer than I thought you would.
This attachment is detrimental to my being. If any longer your existence influences me,
I will stop living in the present and reality and just dream on about non-existent parallels,
wasting so much time and feelings.

Okay. So this is why I'm being so secret there. You would only talk to me that way.

Because,

you wouldn't want to talk to me.

Thank you, dear, though, for that sweet little message.

Purely imaginative. Not based on any real life experiences.
The Silencebreaker "I'm not good at noticing stuff that happen to the people around me."

People tell me that I have
pretty eyes
they say they are
beautiful.
Honestly i don't like them
I find them weird
and of an odd shape.
I hate how they just LOOK, and not SEE.
I hate how they don't notice things.
I hate how I overlook things that have happened.
I'm not good at noticing stuff that happen to the people around me.

Sometimes they even show the painful emotions that
I don't want anyone to know that they actually exist.



People say I have a sweet smile.
I hate how my chin protrudes out when I smile
I hate how my jaw looks
I hate it


And I hate how it hides away the painful emotions.

You see,
my eyes and my smile contradicts.
because that's how I feel
right here
right now.
Contradiction.
Dilemma.
Doubt.
I actually don't understand my emotions.
I don't understand why I feel certain ways sometimes.
But sometimes, sometimes is always.

English is the worst
Put words here
Slap letters there
Be aware of poetic devices
Look at themes
Topics
Points
Write an essay
Write a poem
Write a summary
All the same
Old
Boring
Stuff
Good thing lunch is
Next

 
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