#lump
Mold me
Like clay that can be recycled,
Then formed into something new.
This clay, like a rebirth, now loved,
This new reinvention shows the new you.
Like in the potter’s hands, he molds a beautiful shape,
One that once was just a lump of clay.
The potter’s hands can make this art anew, escape—
Like helping shape someone’s life one day.
We are like clay, being worked and formed.
This process is like the improvement of oneself.
Unlike the piece that once was unformed,
Now becomes something beautiful to display on a shelf.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 9:14 PM UTC
“Your flowers are blooming!”
“Really?”
Yes
You may think you’re a wildflower
Left to rot
Die
Be eviscerated
But i know your worth
I can show you the world
Of love, and diamonds, and rubies, my love
Tear your heart just to build it back up
This is how you learn
Continuous improvement is the name of the game
Everything shallow you hold has a price to pay
My girls not angry, shes not upset
Shes just looking for a metaphor to channel her emotions into
Something that makes sense
I could dig up the entire graveyard to find bones for you
Your necrophilia would still not cease to be satiated
Seethe, grin, master
Thats the name of the game you are after
I love you, dont you know that
Why cant you see how much you mean to me
Every time you say my name, i feel raw to the bone
The nakedness feels alert, on edge, on spice
But you deal with chicken and rice
Did you get that meal for free?
Im just worried ill be too hung up over you to know what went wrong
What could have gone right, what could have stayed strong
DOMS, that is whats happening right now
But who cares about the love stories of a girl from a gritty old city
One day i will turn to dust, but im a fool to think my words will remain
It doesnt make sense, no, it never will
Why we give our hearts to the ones who will never love us back
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 3:34 PM UTC
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a lump in my bed
————————
sheet covered, toe to head, alive or ?
call it lumpen woman, though shapely,
the thick coverlet says yay, let’s suppress!
what lies sheet-deep, let everyone wanna guess?
two arms snakily shoot/emerge, straight out,
from besides ears, to aerate treasured tresses,
blonde mane, lioness locks, somehow sun colored, of the
rest, a-guessing kept, I man of reason, am’nt a speculator
reasoning that when the world was 1st created,
there was a holy hole in my side, missing a ribbing,
leaving me needy for a plugging, a poultice covering,
a bandage stitched, so my breathing unimpaired
thus this how and why the lumpen woman is come
into bed and body, to patch and complete, warm and
stoke me, wake up us to freshly chilled spring atmospheres,
and other supposed reasons to compose only love poetry
Fri May 22
early morn bedecked bed
isle of sheltering
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 5:38 AM UTC
A 'cuse me?
I lie, eh? I know the way, but let me be the one
to wonder why
would I lie,
do you
read or listen or look or stop when al you can do has been done
al read y
and stand
waiting
waithing
to catch a breath
Up ag'in the wall?
If Dunning Kruger is all they got to throw,
you know what
you know, wrong ain't evil,
lying ly real calling right wrong is something only
a left hand wishing to make some noise
could imagine
right
clap clap clap, and **** Feynman
on the bongos
backing us up with a little James Dean ditty from
the Naked City
Times change, reality may be
de or re ift
in a rich man with a satisfied mind.
(if you'd only known.) Take another question?
chew and swallow and wait,
this will get your guts grinding reasons
the frontal cortex always gets
chirality inhibitions about letting the right hand
do anything the left can't imagine.
You know how it is. we get by.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.
Sugarllump.
An old-time phrase I grew up with,
I’ve used it through the years.
It means you tickle me.
It also means you are dear.
True the guys get a bit out of shape
When I say sugarlump to them,
But then I’m not their grandmother.
I am, after all, vey much ‘a him’.
“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.
But I find some people as sweet
And as delightful as homemade candy.
They are what triggers me to say
“Sugarlump, you are just dandy.”
So I use the phrase judiciously
For the fellows I happen to know
But for women a heckuva lot.
Every few comments or so.
“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
You're still so far away I don't know where to start,
How hard it rained the day I left
And the pain driving into my heart,
I remember her sitting there, staring at me,
A lump in my throat, it was near Halloween,
Her short hair, her brown eyes so keen, so sharp,
Like she could cut right through me,
Like that day you broke my heart,
And only I know who you really are,
And this empty dryness still wont leave,
I don't expect your loving me although love is free,
Don't forget though that my love has always been near,
I've always been watching and waiting year after year
It's just a little bit farther, reach for the sparkling stars,
It can all be over soon, but I'm still not sure where to start,
The suffering in your life and your pain can all end soon,
I'll be in your arms just call me, find me, I'll be waiting for you.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Scared of what life has planned
Thinking back to the past
Already been dealt a hard hand
Thought it was good at last
A lump in my throat
Scared to jinx the scheduled test
Too soon that I spoke
Holding hope too close to my breast
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
you had a lump in your throat every time you spoke,
it should’ve disappeared but your voice became a croak
you cleared your throat a lot,
for every word that got caught
you stopped talking about your passions;
i think your heart had run out of its rations
you helped others out many times before,
but suddenly your reassurance was no more
your silences grew longer;
i should’ve known you were a goner
you left all these warnings,
yet here i was, in mourning.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
camera around my neck
tears in my eyes
a lump in my throat
a pen in my hand
notebook in my lap
glasses on face
ponytail in my hair
headphones around my head
and yet, you are still on my mind.
(a.b)
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
I want to run.
Be free.
Be the little girl they see in me,
but plot-twist happen frequently,
opening your eyes to things you didn't see.
Burning the cheerful into your mind.
If only I didn't once leave that behind.
If I could return to those naive, fun days.
But fun was out and sad was in,
so I figured "well okay."
I dived right in,
singeing my skin,
turning me to the pit.
I was told,
"don't follow your instincts",
so I guess this is what I get.
Now I sit alone,
a pitiful lump of coal,
as a dog without bone,
or soccer ball with no goal.
I'm heading to "God knows where"
on a train called "Oopsy Days,"
and when I arrive,
they will all be amazed.
For I am the writer
who will give them a story,
for I am a lighter,
and my flame gives me glory.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC