#dan
LA, calm yourself down.
Don’t make rash decisions
Don’t make stupid decisions
Always remember, what he did, and what he risked.
Remember what he said - he liked it when he touched you,
Even if he does not want to be touched.
Remember that he placed 100% trust on you
Do not waste that. Be contented, be happy that you have him.
You're done with THE BOY, he should be your past, a stranger.
You guys should not be more than just friends. Why do you still think of him?
Is it because he reached out? Is it because he said that he was capable of giving you what you wanted?
Do you really want to go back to him? Where you have ask to be cuddled, kissed, or be hugged?
Where you'd have to tip toe with his feelings and ask permission to get loved every time?
Where you felt hurt, where you don't get your hand held, where he does not show you off?
Think twice, think thrice, or not think at all!
We already know who's the winner, we already know who's better.
And you want to waste that with someone who just ****** you so good that you forgot your name?
Love is better than *** learn to control, learn to learn, learn to change.
You will get what you want, just in time. Do not rush.
HE will take care of you, and you will take care of him.
Ignore what THE BOY is saying, he may be regretting not treating you better,
He may want you back, but that does not mean he will be able to give you AS MUCH love that HE gives.
Time may take THE BOY a while, it may take him a while to change, it may take him a while to improve.
Once that happens, be happy for him, just be happy.
Wish him a better life, wish him better love, wish him a better person.
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 2:51 PM UTC
LA, are you really in love? Or you're just searching for ***
Do you really like him? Or you're just going to use him to get love?
Although yes, we have been inspired by him, why do you always get sad?
Accept that this is your reality now, accept that this is happening now.
They say you deserve being with him, they say he deserves you.
But why is it that there's uncertainty, doubts, and sadness in your eyes?
Please get in your right mind - He is new to your life.
Open up! He's old enough to understand
He won't make effort to go ride w/ you
He won't make effort to adjust his lunch time w/ you
He won't make effort to talk to you about his life
If he does not like you
He accepted you for what you are
He holds your hand without you asking for it
He asked you for a kiss first
And He takes his time, your time, to enjoy the moment
He endures the urge, he endures your tantrums, he accepts how you think
Now it's up to you to adjust, it's up to you if you will face this reality. Accept it.
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 5:41 PM UTC
There's a tale that is told
In the night Yukon cold
Of the shooting of Dan Mc Grew
The truth as it's known
Is a legend that's grown
And the truth is known by very few
It's twenty years on
The Malamutes gone
There's nobody left from that night
But there's talk of some gold
That sometimes is told
Of what happened just after the fight
There is word of a bar
"The New Yukon Star"
And a fellow down there who can play
The place it is grand
The best in the land
And it's found down by Old Frisco Bay
Now, remember the poke
Of McGrew's the tale spoke
And what happened when Dan was now dead
From his neck it was freed
And the poke held the deed
To Dangerous Dan's claim it was said
When the Northern lights glow
Bringing life to the snow
They say that old Dan walks again
But twenty years past
Dan took that breath, yes, his last
And left the world of mortal men
Now, the saloon down in Frisco
With a barkeep named Cisco
Had a picture of Dan on the wall
They say that his ghost
Makes it smile when you toast
Dan McGrew when it is last call
A traveller came
And remembered Dan's name
One night as he sat with his drink
The piano was loud
And he saw through the crowd
A face, which made the man think
He once was a cop
And on occasion did stop
At the bar when Dan McGrew died
He looked at the face
But wasn't sure of the place
That he knew it, but **** boys he tried
There's a place saved in hell
For those under the spell
Of those who cheated out old Dan McGrew
In the stories it's told
how his poke with his gold
Was stolen by someone he knew
Think of the name
Of the one living with shame
From Dan's last night beneath the north star
Just who could build
A place always filled
A hotel and a popular bar
There on the stair
With long silvery hair
Through cigar smoke that made the air blue
Was the girl who once danced
And had Dan entranced
The girl known only as Lou
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
They say I am,
"Irish?"
Then they call me Dan.
Who called upon your shores and...
said 'such-a-thing' as boorish?
CALL ME DAN
infinity
infinity
infinity
rear your
* ugly head... * *
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 3:24 AM UTC
Paul was very tall
and now I have his skull
but
that’s not what this poem is about at all
Relax it’s a replica
given to me as they were cleaning out the office of a surgeon
did it really belong to someone?
Paul is that you?
He wears my glasses as I write
at times I’ll glance at him to the left of the laptop screen
pretend he’s watching
interested in what it is I am writing “Care you hear about this line?”
I’ll ask. No reply. He keeps to himself, or is simply ignoring me.
Deep cavities stare out, jealous of the mug or can,
more often than not containing caffeine, some sort of personal buzz,
the elixir for the page,
Hemingway’s tactics aren’t for everyone,
is there anyone famous for tea yet?
Paul has perfect front teeth, on the top at least,
he’s missing a couple on the bottom
along with one of his molars. What happened Paul?
Did you not brush enough?
A sweet tooth is a hard habit to break, it needs to be quenched,
much like the helpless need to fill the page day after day.
Classical music always plays during the sessions,
Paul likes piano almost as much as alliteration.
If he still had his hands I imagine
he’d have a million views by now,
just as many likes,
but still working a job outside of his passion to pay the rent,
much like everyone else. He’d come home from work everyday,
around five or so, sit at the piano, one given to him by his grandmother,
left to him in her will,
he wouldn’t get up from the leather covered bench
for hours, to him in the moment those hours feel like seconds,
from that bench he’d create masterpieces, rhapsody in every color,
the type of music people listen to while creating other forms of art,
the background to the inside of their minds.
There’s a replica of a brain inside of Paul’s skull.
It can be removed and taken apart, you can see where Paul kept his memories,
his passions, his regrets.
Being only a replica it’s clear, made of rubber, it’s all there though,
everything that made Paul Paul.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
*Berderap tegap nyaring bersuara
Saat pertama ku pajang jakun menutup pundak dan dada
**"Universitasku universitas Indonesia. "
"Terangkum dalam frasa 'buku pesta dan cinta'"**
Sayang hanya dalam nyanyian belaka
Isi kisahku hanya buku, tanpa pesta dan cinta
Jangan kurang jangan lebih jua
Pesta dan cinta punya takar unik pas tuk dicoba
Seperti kopi kelebihan kekurangan gula
Ada takaran pas 'tuk tiap lidah yg meminta
Kisah uiku kisah pesta
Pesta merayakan kebahagiaan, kejayaan, atau mungkin lepasnya keperjakaan
Kisah uiku kisah cinta
Cinta teman sebaya, cinta maba alat pelampiasan atau cinta kakak tingkat kece mempesona
Jika kisah uimu belum ada pesta dan cinta
Maka jangan paksa diri menyeret kaki lepas dari skripsi dan tugas yang ada
**Entah malang atau baik nasib akhir kisahnya
Jangan mau lulus jika belum mencoba***
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 1:09 PM UTC
He looked like a mixture
Of my last ex-boyfriend
And the boy that
Passed my senior year of
High school.
The perfect balance of
One of my mistakes
And
One of God's mistakes.
But the book he was reading screamed
Dan.
And I hadn't thought
About Dan since June
And I had hoped
To keep it that way.
But here I was opening the flood gates.
And I couldn't get a proper grasp on anything.
And my handwriting was so shaky it was almost illegible.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
If the shackles of the bouldering social structures collapse then the stores are closed for winter. Sandy can wear last month’s Louis.
If the whole world allowed us in then you shouldn’t have procrastinated poisoning the fluorescence.
If you open the worn pages of time then you won’t die alone.
Not enough, huh?
Steely Dan the doctor Frankenstein.
“I cried when I wrote this song. Sue me if I play too long,”
Compost dreams so not long-gone?
If you have to **** yourself, then Paris becomes your drug.
Why would I intervene an ungrateful brat?
Don’t know if your veins will end up my perfect quill but if I have lose musical chairs to my father I will get you that spotlight *********
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
no unauthorized
****** cinnamon, that is
all the **** we need
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
Pull her close... Hug her tight... Until the pieces are put back together.
And when your done. Just whisper in her ear "I'm here...
And I'll always love you"
[K.D.P]
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
Anxious flashbacks in the back of your Cadillac, with
The window half down to drown out the drones of
Mom’s mouth, ten years old and I’m anxious to
Fill what I lack, but now I’m dying alone in
The back of a stranger’s hatchback and I
Wonder, will God let a ****** through
The gates? Because Mom said the
Chance of a *** getting into
That place was as good as a
Camel strolling thru the
Eye of needle, or
Something like
That, I don’t
Remember
Really.
I do know that Aunt Ruth said I was a needle in a stack of hay, so
I can’t die this way, because God would never make a kid shine
Like truth just to burn out in the soft glow of the flame against
A spoon, that’s just logic. ‘Cuz God, I tried to tie a thread
To my spine and swan dive into the fabric of this Earth,
But all I got was a couches’ bruise, a pillow filled with
The feathers of a plucked bird with its tongue-tied
And words’ lynched, destined to haunt PSA’s and
Statistics, now I’m itching for a way to lay
Or place to sit to die with a sense of
Purpose, so I stretch my arms out
With my palms up like Jesus,
But the Police will see the
Lesions, a haunting
Image of celestial
Intent, But God
Will only see
The
Marks
From
The
Needle.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC