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#bean
Buzz.. buzz.. Mr. Fly, why do you follow me? Can’t entertain you, I’m busy bee Tonight has not been easy Medication and other things - it’s hazy Can’t you see? …need a moment of peace Can’t let me be? …Need not I be at ease? Buzz.. buzzz… Mr. Fly, hush Buzz.. buzz Buzz… buzz.. Despair beyond repair Cloudy smokes- vanishing clarity! grasping! All for sanity Life is winter bare It’s about to be over, don’t follow Buzz… buzz… Take your cover, this grenade about to blow Buzz.. buzz… Locking myself in a dark closet Ready to unplug A frustration to annoying little bug All the buzz.. Prepare! Obstacles mid-air The clanking and clattering ~silence~ Tearing my ears so I may not hear All the woes and the cries of my dear I beg to leave for peace I yearn freedom Then head to an unattainable kingdom Buzz.. buzz… Bother me not anymore Banging unto wall Fading beauty, tiny doll
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Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 9:34 PM UTC
Man VS Fly
empty cup that fills my mind – down to earth man sips the ground; a scent that erodes all other scents swirling steam, a bittersweet dream – fruitful energy given by the swirl of it’s heat; as my tongue ripens to this flavour in my cup the days are always a rush; a cup of coffee sort of helps me slow it all down – thrown seeds to grow in my heart, rejoicing in the love I have for my morning drink. reaping for more, coffee seeds planted in the coffee machine. cos some days I work myself like a machine – I need to oil the machine, with the fuel from that coffee bean the goosebumps rise on my skin, I’m in love with this coffee bean
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Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 11:41 AM UTC
coffee bean
Escape a roundel by Geoffrey Chaucer loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat, I never plan to be in his prison lean; Since I am free, I count it not a bean. He may question me and counter this and that; I care not: I will answer just as I mean. Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat, I never plan to be in his prison lean. Love strikes me from his roster, short and flat, And he is struck from my books, just as clean, Forevermore; there is no other mean. Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat, I never plan to be in his prison lean; Since I am free, I count it not a bean. ********** Original text: Sin I fro love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; Sin I am fre, I counte him not a bene. He may answere, and seye this or that; I do no fors, I speke right as I mene. Sin I fro love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene. Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat, And he is strike out of my bokes clene For ever-mo; [ther] is non other mene. Sin I fro love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; Sin I am fre, I counte him not a bene. Explicit.
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Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 5:08 AM UTC
Geoffrey Chaucer "Escape" translation
my heart belongs to tofu soy milk runs through my veins silken or firm; dressed up or naked straight from the fridge and straight to my heart dine with a passion, this curd is an art juicy and delicious, chewy gooey soft bless me with your bean, bless me with your froth on the top of my latte, you glisten in the sun oh soy, my boy, my joy; you are my life blood
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Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 6:55 AM UTC
Tofu
Pour the coffee please Coffee wakes up the senses I need the black bean Dry roasted and pressed Ground to make the very best Energizing beans Brian Hill - 2019 # 196
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Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC
Coffee - Haiku
look at you with your ocean colored eyes, sun kissed cheeks, and coffee bean colored hair you look as if you were painted by Norman ******* Rockwell himself
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Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 4:08 AM UTC
Norman Rockwell
He is the sunrise over the black hills He is the feeling from which my soul spills He is the beating of my heart He is the pain of being apart He is my song He is where I belong He is amica mea
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Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
Amica Mea
Let me flick your bean Till you grow peas Of ecstacy. And I swallow everyone Moistly.
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May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
Flicking your bean
The green beans let out a sigh. Their Fear simmering in their salt. At That moment, that sigh gave in to A similar fear, the fear of one very Unfortunate group of coffee beans, Next to be ground up and drank, right In front of their brethren, who will Also sigh in fear because there is Nothing else that they can do But sigh in fear. At that point, The man, the monster that causes Beans to sigh in fear, drinks the Blood of those beans that sigh, Those beans that fear, and he Himself will sigh in contentment, In a lack of fear, because he has No idea that he himself is nothing More than a bean, not actually Any greater than a green bean, A coffee bean, or just about any Other kind of bean; the only Real difference is that man is The only bean that affords the Luxury of exercising presence of Mind to choose how and when They sigh; in the face of fear, or Reveling in their complete and total Lack of general acknowledgment.
0
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
Bean. Fear. Sigh.
Broke, sitting with half plate Pasta, butter, spice Shuffle through my old clothes I used to look nice What is nice, but smaller? Smaller, smaller, still String bean and potatoes Go fine together The grocer tries to tell me, "Divide, conquer, divide." "What is nice, but smaller?" I guess the grocer's right
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
A Microphone
I found a bean in my room Hope that means I'll be leaving soon If I plant it in my carpet And put an X to mark it Maybe if I sow Maybe it will grow And have a great stock And for a moment I'll just stand and gawk Maybe it will grow into the sky Past where the birds fly Up past the clouds Where humans are not allowed Then like my old friend Jack I'll pack me a sack Then I'll start my climb Up that big sturdy vine At the top I wonder what I'll find Will it be peace of mind Will my giants all be slayed Will I finally be unafraid I want to be above the grind And all of mankind So I planted my bean and watered it well You can see it's starting to grow and swell The roots start to snake Making my floor quake But it didn't grow up, but sideways instead I looked at it with dread Even my daydreams Are not as they seem But nightmares ensues My lovely dark muse
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May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Daydream Fairytale
Contemplating life over a hot bowl of soup, my mindful mentor passed me the pleasure of oyster to mix in with the pain of chilies stirred together by chopsticks held in my hands. There he taught me the lesson of humanity and the person's potential, pointing at me and then back at the bean sprout, fiddling it in his chopsticks as if he were God, mentioning to me "This sprout and you have plenty alike..." "What do you mean? How am I like a vegetable?" He smiled and nodded to disagree, "Life is not always physical. Think for a second, open your fragile closed mind. Imagine this soup not just a bowl but instead a cauldron, the mixing of different elements, sensations seared by heat to create the luxuries we call the world where you are a mere bean sprout." Looking at the small, colorless tasteless, inferior plant, I wondered, confused and asked: "Am I so inferior in this world that I cannot compare to the rich flavor of beef, to the nurturing noodles, to the accenting spices, but instead am no more than a flavorless root?" Yet my mentor laughed, and patiently passed: "You worry too much young one, too much on yourself you blame. Instead, take upon consideration that the bean sprout is small, fragile, tasteless like water; there is nothing you can change other than size and color, but lower it into the soup and patiently stir, allow it to soak up the world and obtain its potential." I repeated his actions, placed myself in the world, sat patient and absorbed its essence, and then removed it, placed it to my lips. Surprised that what I later discovered was not a bland taste of disappointment arose but instead what lingered to the tongue was the sweet taste of near perfection.
0
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
"A Bean Sprout and a Bowl of Soup"
Contemplating life over a hot bowl of soup, my mindful mentor passed me the pleasure of oyster to mix in with the pain of chilies stirred together by chopsticks held in my hands. There he taught me the lesson of humanity and the person's potential, pointing at me and then back at the bean sprout, fiddling it in his chopsticks as if he were God, mentioning to me "This sprout and you have plenty alike..." "What do you mean? How am I like a vegetable?" He smiled and nodded to disagree, "Life is not always physical. Think for a second, open your fragile closed mind. Imagine this soup not just a bowl but instead a cauldron, the mixing of different elements, sensations seared by heat to create the luxuries we call the world where you are a mere bean sprout." Looking at the small, colorless tasteless, inferior plant, I wondered, confused and asked: "Am I so inferior in this world that I cannot compare to the rich flavor of beef, to the nurturing noodles, to the accenting spices, but instead am no more than a flavorless root?" Yet my mentor laughed, and patiently passed: "You worry too much young one, too much on yourself you blame. Instead, take upon consideration that the bean sprout is small, fragile, tasteless like water; there is nothing you can change other than size and color, but lower it into the soup and patiently stir, allow it to soak up the world and obtain its potential." I repeated his actions, placed myself in the world, sat patient and absorbed its essence, and then removed it, placed it to my lips. Surprised that what I later discovered was not a bland taste of disappointment arose but instead what lingered to the tongue was the sweet taste of near perfection.
Continue reading...
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I found a bean in my room Hope that means I'll be leaving soon If I plant it in my carpet And put an X to mark it Maybe if I sow Maybe it will grow And have a great stock And for a moment I'll just stand and gawk Maybe it will grow into the sky Past where the birds fly Up past the clouds Where humans are not allowed Then like my old friend Jack I'll pack me a sack Then I'll start my climb Up that big sturdy vine At the top I wonder what I'll find Will it be peace of mind Will my giants all be slayed Will I finally be unafraid I want to be above the grind And all of mankind So I planted my bean and watered it well You can see it's starting to grow and swell The roots start to snake Making my floor quake But it didn't grow up, but sideways instead I looked at it with dread Even my daydreams Are not as they seem But nightmares ensues My lovely dark muse
0
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Daydream Fairytale
Love that mends, Is love that breaks. Love that breaks, Is the the love you love. It's the love you love you always love, That's the one that hurts. The love I always loved was you, That's why I'll always love you... That's why I'll always want you... Why I'll always need you, By my side. [K.D.P.]
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
-The Love you Loved-
I cannot eat and I cannot sleep anymore because Your Great Love has been knocking down my doors. God, I am filthy, but you make me clean You've had great plans for me before I even became a little bean. Growing up brings some bitter pains, You wash it away with your healing rain. My timid soul is thirsty and starving. Shape me Lord, into your perfect carving.
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
New Slate.