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Farhan Jun 10
Feet Lies,
Head Flies.
The gravity acting on head is negligibly less than on feet.
Miss Luna May 16
Oh you,
my lovely dandy,
it's not easy to understand you.
You're on the top -

in everything,
Black,Brown,yellow or white,
Tall or short,what's in a height,
Thin, fat or obese,
What's to do with size,
From zero to XXL,
Beautiful,**** or normal,
What the hell!
It's Your life,
Live it without strife.
Savour its flavours,
Reach out for experiences, newer and richer,
Be a Rockstar.
Soon before you die,
Your life before you will flash by,
Make sure,your ending is your best goodbye.
Tommy Randell Jan 12
I'm at a time of life when there are little insights
Getting older you see things from a certain place
I don't mean all that philosophical stuff
Just from where your eyes are in the middle of your face

There are times Life is all about Height and such
The things you can and cannot do
Can you get things from the very top shelf?
Is it hard getting down to tie your shoes?

Changing a light bulb at the top of the stairs
Getting a pair of trousers to fit
Looking up to even the grandchildren now
But still bumping your head on cupboards a bit

Height is one of the ways people divide us
Often to discriminate or categorize
There's all that clichéd list of stuff
Talking around seeing each other Eye to Eye

Does it matter I stopped at five eleven and a half
And never made six foot tall?
I found out a long time ago that when making love
Height doesn't seem to matter at all

And being a Poet it matters less
There is no height advantage using lofty language
There's a million ways no matter how incorrect
Just using simple rhyme to say how it is!
... always wanted to half rhyme language with is!
Poetic T Dec 2018
When we where young,
           we would climb trees.
And now where older and
            we never climb anything.

We reached so far beyond our grasp.
               But then we grew wiser,
beyond our years.

But then we fell in days,
            we gained the wisdom
that trees grow and we shouldn't.

But this is where the acorn fell,
          never growing to there potential.
All acorns grow and fall a length.

I could climb higher than my height,
        never letting others say that I shouldn't.

Climb higher than the length of your growth..

Always climb higher,
              as we may fall...
              But we will always climb higher
                           than when we fell before.
Poetic T Dec 2018
That Singular Lego Piece,
When I was younger and
life was just walls...
That where just falling down
around me,
                 I found something.

A single piece of Lego.

       And on it scratched into
it where three words...

Always build higher.

Where my life had been
even at such a young age.
                            I thought
             the only thing walls were,
where ones that crumbled.

But after that moment,
when all I fell upon
                  where pebbles of lost moments.
                  That could have built
higher but crumbled, like so many.

That one brick,  built me higher
            than any singular instant.

And to this day,
                  I have never looked
at another lower,
                     or higher than myself.

For ever brick is built on the strength
            of another taking the weight
of the one below it.

And without that strength below,
           we couldn't build ourselves
                            to the height we are today.

Everyday I wear that brick around my neck.

Not to weigh me down, but to realise,
       that below every brick
       is another holding us up
                  with there strength, and without them
                                                    we would crumble.
You may walk in the same storm with another, Under the same sky feeling the same rain but that doesn't mean you've endured their pain.

    Before you assume that you're above them, Consider the lightening when it does strike...
that it doesn't consider one's mere stature or height.
~Author Ven J. Arnold
copyright 2018 Ven Jencie Clifton Arnold
True. It's a hard long fall of that high horse you may be riding. Circumstances change all the time. Don't be so quite to judge.
Hannah Nov 2018
What if I jumped from a bridge.
In the middle of the night in this cold stale November air.
To heights skin and organs are no match.
A mess. Sadness. Comes. In. Threes.
I’m one of three tragedies.
My mother’s tragedy.
I’m sorry mom.
I didn’t try.
I’m a failure but you always knew that.
We expect tragedies in threes.
In series. In series. In series.
Anya Jul 2018
I’m short
Not super
But like average
The shortest
Of average
It’s still short
index finger of left hand
     (likened to Michelangelo
meticulously chiseling away
     at marble block), this poe
whit attempts to coax (zealously
     tap into his latent indivisible quo
shunt, sans self imposed

     quotidian literary endeavor slow
lee witnessing, an emergent
     reasonably satisfactory, though
hooping unbeknownst readers
     (perchance even a scribe from Yugo
Slav via) will only resort
     to lard out positive unsolicited feedback,

yet this scrivener well aware
bluntness evokes
     fulfillment loud and clear
inflating jowly machismo thru ether
narcissist quintessential rabid glare
     unpretentious vain warbling yakking

     zither plucking boastful demonstrably
     fatuous haughtily immodest luminaire
dismissively smug,
     sans literary endeavor aye share
thus, tis one objective when attempting
     to corral rampant thoughts,

     (that charge hither and yon, to and fro)
     at pace of greased lightening tear
chasing hash-tagged elusive
     Smokey and the Bandit
imp posse sub bull
     back to the future of 1977 year  

temporarily abandoning awoke
motive, i.e. initial challenge,
     viz going for broke
to sweat blood and tears
     digging deep within noggin, or choke
myself if merely draw blanks

     versus (beginners blind luck), and evoke
accolades accidentally
     tapping into creative
     (qua literary) mother lode
     joining belle lettres authored folk,
whose metier comprises compendium

     of alphabetized words
     receiving surprising windfall
     asper pig in a poke,
novel idea after nostrils emit smoke
the amazing dragon
     within (sol fully bellows)  
     finding me to feign taking a smoke

aware fame and fortune,
     where a written best seller brings renown
can essentially only be verbalized
     as a pipe dream from this clown,
who best **** sitter
     living hard scrapple

     (scrabble playing) hand to mouth shuffling
     along (the littered boulevard
     of rejection slips)
     wearing out one after
     another of me buster brown

shoes, perhaps posthumously
     gleaning raving reviews,
where famous names
     amidst cadre (espousing
     wife fours smiting
     social injustices extant loose

zing potential harmonic convergence,
     whether gentiles or Jews
throughout all foursquare corners
     of the world wide web
an economic eclectic diaspora,
     where underbelly of civilization
     pay heaviest ****** dues!
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