It’s a city in the mountain view **** I’ve never seen something quite like you So fun and free, yet peaceful- A constant reminder of nature’s beauty.
For some the growing happens after high school For others, the change happens in graduate school I was nervous to make the transition alone However, him leaving turned out to be the best **** thing since edible cookie dough
This poem is about my transition to graduate school! I love the location and I don’t feel trapped here! I was also making this transition with someone who had recently left my life, but it turned out to be for the better. I hope you all enjoy! :)
There is a rush hour In the city of my heart Here people see Each other as competition And every dead bird or dark alley Is a harbinger, a premonition. Everything comes at the wrong hour Taxis, jeeps, the tired faces Heading towards tired places Deep inside is the insidious machine The three headed dog, the selfish gene The one who denies death The one who craves And the one who slaves for his breath
There is a rush hour that never stops An endless coming and going Trapped inside the gaze of the cyclops Where there is no wine for soothing Here, the destination is what matters The journey is a waste of time You wait until everyone scatters And every attempt at rest is a crime
Karachi, I love Karachi, not just because' this city has allowed to' my grandparents and' than my parents to' make their homes here, but her sky, moon, sun, air, ocean and soil are' breathing in me as a love, Love is name of a feeling, where you would try to leave' that place or a person, but more you try, more you feel home' within them, As same I do feel with Karachi.
Screaming They do not hear this Because they're too busy Doing worthless **** And pretending that they exist
For a moment you think You ******* Elon Musk this is a simulation And this is my realisation Call me Nick Bostrom and my thought Is Blood sweat and simulated tears Because
I observe a figure walking down a street And in my disorientation I stare at them Unflinchingly and they stare back and laugh Like they know me so I'm like what the **** Who was that guy I'm so confused I swear
**** **** kick a brick that forms part of a wall Ye Olde England see an Olde man screaming Abandon hope! Sinner Jim Whitney Call me Charles Mingus you are the Sinner Lady And I play my saxophone for you
Sign this page and hand yourself to God And through this holy book this ancient relic I save you for you are a sinner You Jim Whitney repent to rejoice in heaven There you'll find Dante and Milton Writing free verse poetry with Christ himself Resurrected and now
Save the Children with Unicef Or buy the Big Issue Would you like a Burrito or a coffee Or take this money which I loan thee **** that I feel like you owe me And I'll spit on your grave and tax your family Call me Milton Friedman welcome to the economy
Or would you rather let it all go and find the Dharma There's a Pure Land temple only a train journey away Come I'll take you there find Abhidhamma I know you're lost in this postmodern age
Sickness disorientation your mind so blurry This disorientation the unfocused intensity Feeling like you don't exist and everything is So horribly sick and
Walking down a street in all your disorientation And you're half dead half asleep half existent Wanting a ******* coffee but you have no money So you settle for an energy drink that tastes like ****
But you need the caffeine so you can't complain And your miserable face and ridiculous gait Is the elephant in the room you ******* good for nothing ******* and why are you even here Pseudo intellectual half wit
Stop reading Camus you miserable **** Start watching Love island like any normal ******* miserable person that lives On this sceptered isle to paraphrase Shakespeare and revel in your heritage
Aren't you proud to be British No what is worse what is worse To be British or to be human Why am I associated with that flag That flies on the tower of the house of God That I observe as I squint my eyes
The Sun is hot but I am cold I'm very cold so I wear a coat And a passerby says what the **** And the wall is my glue yes the wall is my glue
**** look they opened the coffee shop I want a coffee this energy drink Tastes like **** So throw it away Like life and
Laugh at the pathetic little joke From a pseudo intellectual Pseudo poetic poet that cannot write About this ache they feel…
All this disorientation… None of it interpretable. And this poem is never-ending Unless it just ends.