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#motto
To: the "man" with the gym-floor philosophy. From: The vacancy you tried to occupy. Date: Today, right after the punchline. Thank you for your recent contribution To the ongoing archive of things i have to survive. Not to mention: the drama. the other boy. the comments. the exit strategy. the map on her arms. the stage turned stampede. the playing nice i have to do. the distance of my chair v. the exit. the "text me when you're home" ritual. We, the Women of this World, have reviewed your "motto" regarding the weight of hands and the specific math of holding someone down. The Board of Directors found it “predictable,” yet "vibrant as a neon orange." we noticed you opted for the "classic predator rehearsed smile™"- a bold choice for a man who looks like a cheap costume trying to play the part of a person. Regarding your question: “why aren’t you laughing?” Please find the attached spreadsheet Of every woman who has ever heard The rattle of a cage and been told It was actually a symphony. You’ll notice the "humor" column is empty. You’ll notice the "exit calculation" column Is overflowing in long, jagged strips. Please be advised: We are currently over-capacity On poems about the way the room goes cold. Our inventory of "citrus-stained warnings" Is at an all-time high Because you keep insisting On peeling the fruit before it’s offered. If you find the repetition tiresome, If you find this "rape poem" a bit redundant, Please refer to the previous six thousand years Of feedback we’ve provided. We would love to close this ticket. We would love to stop the harvest. But until you learn that a punchline Isn't a substitute for permission, We will remain in the wings— Scrubbing the scent of your "funny" Off our skin until it bleeds.
0
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:19 PM UTC
Regarding Your Recent Feedback on My Trauma (A **** Poem) (2)
To: the "man" with the gym-floor philosophy. From: The vacancy you tried to occupy. Date: Today, right after the punchline. Thank you for your recent contribution To the ongoing archive of things i have to survive. Not to mention: the drama. the other boy. the comments. the exit strategy. the map on her arms. the stage turned stampede. the playing nice i have to do. the distance of my chair v. the exit. the "text me when you're home" ritual. We, the Women of this World, have reviewed your "motto" regarding the weight of hands and the specific math of holding someone down. The Board of Directors found it “predictable,” yet "vibrant as a neon orange." we noticed you opted for the "classic predator rehearsed smile™"- a bold choice for a man who looks like a cheap costume trying to play the part of a person. Regarding your question: “why aren’t you laughing?” Please find the attached spreadsheet Of every woman who has ever heard The rattle of a cage and been told It was actually a symphony. You’ll notice the "humor" column is empty. You’ll notice the "exit calculation" column Is overflowing in long, jagged strips. Please be advised: We are currently over-capacity On poems about the way the room goes cold. Our inventory of "citrus-stained warnings" Is at an all-time high Because you keep insisting On peeling the fruit before it’s offered. If you find the repetition tiresome, If you find this "rape poem" a bit redundant, Please refer to the previous six thousand years Of feedback we’ve provided. We would love to close this ticket. We would love to stop the harvest. But until you learn that a punchline Isn't a substitute for permission, We will remain in the wings— Scrubbing the scent of your "funny" Off our skin until it bleeds.
Continue reading...
51
today, a man laughed. he tossed out a "motto", "if one can hold you down... then two can **** you." he said it with that rehearsed, plastic smile, the kind that expects you to join in on the joke of your own disappearance. “it’s funny,” he said, and I wondered when I became a vacancy, a space to fill, a fruit to be peeled and discarded before the juice even hits the floor. i am sitting in the wings and the words are under my skin, a sticky, cloying residue of a "motto" i didn’t ask to learn. i try to think of the next scene, but the air is thick with the math of how many hands it takes to break a person open. i am still sitting here now. the longer i stay, the more the room turns to acid. i feel it under my fingernails, the sticky, cloying residue of his "motto," a smell that won't wash off no matter how much water i use. no matter what soap i use. no matter how hard i scrub. no matter how red my skin turns. he thinks it’s a joke because he’s never been the one pressed against the wall, watching the rind be stripped away by someone who called it "funny." i am counting the seconds again. not just to leave the room, but to get away from the way he looked at my arms and saw a harvest he thought he could own. i can’t stop the loop. the sentence is a rind stuck between my teeth, bitter and impossible to swallow. i feel the rottenness of it creeping up my neck like a rash, the way his laughter felt like a hand on my shoulder that I wasn't allowed to shake off. he’s just standing there, vibrant and toxic as a neon orange, unaware that he has turned the simple act of breathing into a calculation of exits. i am sitting with the weight of it, feeling the safety peel away in long, jagged strips, leaving nothing but the pith— white, dry, and trembling— while he waits for me to find the humor in the hunt. i am standing here now, holding the leftover skin of the day like a witness who hasn't been called. i see the audience shifting again, ready for the "next" poem, the next fruit, the next kit, as if the telling is the tragedy and not the joke itself. ....well. scrub all you want; some stains are meant to be seen. maybe we won't need any more poems if you just listen to this one.
0
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:06 PM UTC
is this still funny? (A **** Poem) (1)
today, a man laughed. he tossed out a "motto", "if one can hold you down... then two can **** you." he said it with that rehearsed, plastic smile, the kind that expects you to join in on the joke of your own disappearance. “it’s funny,” he said, and I wondered when I became a vacancy, a space to fill, a fruit to be peeled and discarded before the juice even hits the floor. i am sitting in the wings and the words are under my skin, a sticky, cloying residue of a "motto" i didn’t ask to learn. i try to think of the next scene, but the air is thick with the math of how many hands it takes to break a person open. i am still sitting here now. the longer i stay, the more the room turns to acid. i feel it under my fingernails, the sticky, cloying residue of his "motto," a smell that won't wash off no matter how much water i use. no matter what soap i use. no matter how hard i scrub. no matter how red my skin turns. he thinks it’s a joke because he’s never been the one pressed against the wall, watching the rind be stripped away by someone who called it "funny." i am counting the seconds again. not just to leave the room, but to get away from the way he looked at my arms and saw a harvest he thought he could own. i can’t stop the loop. the sentence is a rind stuck between my teeth, bitter and impossible to swallow. i feel the rottenness of it creeping up my neck like a rash, the way his laughter felt like a hand on my shoulder that I wasn't allowed to shake off. he’s just standing there, vibrant and toxic as a neon orange, unaware that he has turned the simple act of breathing into a calculation of exits. i am sitting with the weight of it, feeling the safety peel away in long, jagged strips, leaving nothing but the pith— white, dry, and trembling— while he waits for me to find the humor in the hunt. i am standing here now, holding the leftover skin of the day like a witness who hasn't been called. i see the audience shifting again, ready for the "next" poem, the next fruit, the next kit, as if the telling is the tragedy and not the joke itself. ....well. scrub all you want; some stains are meant to be seen. maybe we won't need any more poems if you just listen to this one.
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75
Lactate motto naku smile. *this poem, for my friend, who has hit the road, in ways others only think they have done or know, miss her firecracking wizardy, she, the only inky reason still talk to god, to cover all the bases, employ every tool and invention, to make sure you are a-ok alright, on the journey to an unknown destination* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lactate motto naku smile That is Apple talk. My Apple language master señor spell check, thus advised and improved upon me, way back on April 3rd of this year. I wrote: "last attempt to make you smile." Apple translated my ginger finger snap taps into American English as "Lactate motto naku smile" Stumbled on this oath, this midnight eve, this phrase, duly nated and nested, amidst our very long exchanges, which someday soon, am going to edit excerpt as one most readable single poem, a tribute to you, not, that you, my traveling friend, you already greedy got no, just a dialogue just a par example, of how friendships are born, how words lactate from each of our ******* how relationship are birthed and nutured, in a crazy place, where language lovers are the nuclei of a dying breed, once called the human place *** back in ancient history, way back on Sept. 29th our first communication tween our mutual alien races tee hee, me wrote first as follows Each individual word, was a separate message, for such devices deserved of self-respect, sometimes want their power demonstrated on a stand alone basis and here that follows was how Presented and Conceived Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 This Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Message Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Is Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 For Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 You Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Only Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Can a man fall in love with a name? you permissioned me a multiplicity of yeses, thus began our star trekked voyage in the stellar spatial space of the galaxy of humanity but part of your new trajectory, a new orbit in a new spaceship you champagne smashed anointed as Mirabel Now I know you hate my habit, of slipping in a definition, making the lazy reader unself-sufficient, but I grant, nay, take this liberty, I dew, while in your quiet traveling disappearance time Mirabel is a female name stemming from the Latin word mirabilis, meaning "wondrous" or "of wondrous beauty" what ya know, ** ** nothing could be fina, than to be in your minda, nothing more apropos, than calling your ship in Latina, a wondrous female beast of beauty ok I know I go on too long as is my wont, my nature, but I could not shorten my course, in any other way, Ok, I Guess I Could Have Said I miss ya terribly somewhat more succinctly but what fun would that be?
0
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
Lactate motto naku smile
Lactate motto naku smile. *this poem, for my friend, who has hit the road, in ways others only think they have done or know, miss her firecracking wizardy, she, the only inky reason still talk to god, to cover all the bases, employ every tool and invention, to make sure you are a-ok alright, on the journey to an unknown destination* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lactate motto naku smile That is Apple talk. My Apple language master señor spell check, thus advised and improved upon me, way back on April 3rd of this year. I wrote: "last attempt to make you smile." Apple translated my ginger finger snap taps into American English as "Lactate motto naku smile" Stumbled on this oath, this midnight eve, this phrase, duly nated and nested, amidst our very long exchanges, which someday soon, am going to edit excerpt as one most readable single poem, a tribute to you, not, that you, my traveling friend, you already greedy got no, just a dialogue just a par example, of how friendships are born, how words lactate from each of our ******* how relationship are birthed and nutured, in a crazy place, where language lovers are the nuclei of a dying breed, once called the human place *** back in ancient history, way back on Sept. 29th our first communication tween our mutual alien races tee hee, me wrote first as follows Each individual word, was a separate message, for such devices deserved of self-respect, sometimes want their power demonstrated on a stand alone basis and here that follows was how Presented and Conceived Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 This Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Message Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Is Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 For Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 You Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Only Nat Lipstadt  Sep 29, 2013 Can a man fall in love with a name? you permissioned me a multiplicity of yeses, thus began our star trekked voyage in the stellar spatial space of the galaxy of humanity but part of your new trajectory, a new orbit in a new spaceship you champagne smashed anointed as Mirabel Now I know you hate my habit, of slipping in a definition, making the lazy reader unself-sufficient, but I grant, nay, take this liberty, I dew, while in your quiet traveling disappearance time Mirabel is a female name stemming from the Latin word mirabilis, meaning "wondrous" or "of wondrous beauty" what ya know, ** ** nothing could be fina, than to be in your minda, nothing more apropos, than calling your ship in Latina, a wondrous female beast of beauty ok I know I go on too long as is my wont, my nature, but I could not shorten my course, in any other way, Ok, I Guess I Could Have Said I miss ya terribly somewhat more succinctly but what fun would that be?
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103
Motto is my logo Intention is my motto Success is my intention Key is my success Hard work is my key Will power is my hard work Confidence is my will power Hope is my confidence Belief is my hope God is my belief Courage is my God.
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Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
MOTTO
she's no deva of mine no caterpillar concubine no cocoon consort no butterfly courtesan she's four tigresses in one suckling, wandering, denned and leashed And I'm following the track of them all She's my white tigress of Nanjing and though I haven't ever practiced kungfu nor qigong I have applied to be her jade dragon Or at least one of her green dragons In order to help her to reach one of her nine illuminations. So I fused my qi and ching and shen and turned myself into a Knight of the Order of the Porcupine and offered to gently tatoo with my quills Her mound of Venus with a motto of invisible yet immortal ink saying : "Qui s'y frotte s'y pique" Written phonetically [kisifrotsipik]. I thought because I sat just like a buddha I was at that moment a buddha I thought that if I breathed like a green or jade dragon She'd let me have a bite at her immortality. No way, my tigress said : You just can't be and have been
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Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 5:28 AM UTC
My immortaless is a millenial
Take your own advice Don't just give it to others See if it works Live without regrets That's mine I should take it to Never live thinking What if That's always been my fear That the what if's Are the suppose to be's Life can only tell you no Then you can go on Maybe I should Live life to the fullest Get rid of the what if's And go with what I feel Someone recently convinced me Listen to yourself Because you listeb to your gut And follow your own path That leads to your own happiness So I'll start with my motto And stop having "what if's" Because some what if's Are should haves
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Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 6:43 PM UTC
Life without Regrets
“There’s always hope”, she said, as she turned away to battle. “There’s always hope”, I whisper, now. Though it doesn’t Seem like that at all. “You have no chance”, They said, Towering high Above me. I know. But that won’t stop me.
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Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
An Anthem Passed On
1; fear will not **** you, but it can eat you alive and make your insides rot. 2;you must allow yourself to thaw before you can melt--the cold was meant to allow you to feel your own heartbeat. don't ignore it 3; you are alive, even if just barely. make sure to lift your eyes to the sun to know that it still shines even amongst the dark. 4; breathe in with your nose and out through your mouth. you are a passageway for ancestral air and you should take that responsibility seriously. 5; your blood is not special, nor is it ordinary. 6; it is only by chance that you are here. a line of perfectly timed decisions birthed you--remember why you're here. 7; look at the mountains. they were here before you and will be long after you're gone. one day you will become the air that surrounds it. 8; you can lose your footing, but don't despair. sometimes you fall into a new path and it's like breathing in clarity you've never once known. 9; listen to what you're body tells you, it knows you better than you think. 10; when everything turns to dust remember you have the ability to start over. it cannot harm you to wipe the slate clean
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Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
the puritan code
no diminution in tiredness arose gnome hatter how off tin ma dis bows Zoe let his bot tee succumb, via mental application of autogenic phrases and/or counting crows cuz upon awakening, aye immediately wanted ta doze, thus this artful dodger hankered to expose extreme cockamamy idea incumbent, where corporeal essence gets froze zen, the scientific procedure named emergency preservation and resuscitation (EPR) more familiarly known as suspended animation pursuant under the appellation cryogenics, where living tissue no longer grows old, a wishful yearning approximating immortality i sup hose, yet this copacetic drowsy generic human struggled in vain trying with utmost effort to stay awake Swiss to hobnob among urbane feeling helpless (fearing he might be narcoleptic), nonetheless aye didst train intent concentration (and/or feeble exertion mustered) to swat away worrisome thought this hypochondriac, could be afflicted with mononucleosis since lassitude less likely sprung from overcast and rain knee skies, which type weather generally energies me to conjure a quatrain sometimes complex versus written straight away plain panacea hit upon finally to ward off sleepiness, whereby literary endeavor boosted by a strong brew namely fair trade manufactured coffee chew zing among socially conscious entities, and hoping to do some dollop of positivity without fanfare I eschew to fulfill personal hue man conscientious anonymous impact that some benefit will en sue.
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 6:27 PM UTC
Somnolence Stymies Sui Generis Synchronization
This is my plea; this is MY submission So I petition you to stay away from vain tradition It’s rudimentary my dear Christians! Follow Jesus not man, don’t listen to magicians The inscription was handwritten on my heart Its perfection has forever been positioned Jesus was not a politician, so why place restrictions? Where’s the distinction? This isn’t a competition There’s only the affliction of a life spent in derision The road less traveled can be protection, reflection, and salvation; This is my position: You can put a gun to my head wish me dead and I still won’t regret my decision - to follow Jesus!
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Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 10:55 AM UTC
To Follow Jesus
- - I’m trying to make my own sun If not, succeeded Then, I will, self be it. - -
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
Faith N’ Efforts
It's hard to notice small achievements when your mind is set awaiting impatiently on the end result.
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Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 5:14 PM UTC
Reminder #4
By Arcassin Burnham You're pulling your punches if you think life's impermanence won't catch up.. paranoia on 100% every time , your thinking you're gonna get shot or cut.. Not safe anywhere , your so old school, you don't get the motto.. I was thinking more about what i used to be in this country then i ran out of ammo.. didn't have anything left to fight with at one time, somewhere in my life, you were a waste of time, in all of the bad times, i didn't think that i would make it far in this condition, i'm just so surprised, there isn't enough time, enough time to waste my time, Sacrifices being made , and i always had to listen what people say.. Kids are mean and family don't really care about you , they just want you to pay.. Surreal feeling , so subside, i can not wonder, level-headed thoughts in people heads for summer, Feeling sorry for myself, i take the pain off, wishing i could feel her touch that she claims is soft, Surreal feeling , so subside, i can not wonder, level-headed thoughts in people heads for summer, Feeling sorry for myself, they don't care about your dreams, they don't care about your health, didn't have anything left to fight with at one time, somewhere in my life, you were a waste of time, in all of the bad times, i didn't think that i would make it far in this condition, i'm just so surprised, there isn't enough time, enough time to waste my time.
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Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
The Time Wasting Times
Be it in the sea or on land my duty is                          the preservation of life Be you woman man or child, it doesn't matter if your ugly or fit but remember this before you leave.                                    "BRUSH YOUR TEETH, Its a major gag reflex condition you don't want my chunks in your mouth. When I give you the kiss of life don't use tongue, I have a wife who would  divorce me quicker than you  know...                   My job is to look good and to always looked tanned with a smile. *"Please don't drown, as the sea water leaves patches on my skin fading my fake tan,*
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Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
Life Guard Motto
Blood, sweat, smile and spit Jesus loves you you piece of ****
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
Grin and keep going
" the spectator " i am not  writing for 5k i'm not preparing for compilation i am not trying to set new record i'm not trying to impress you,,i was just saving my life the thing is.... I feel like dizzy because i am lack of sleep doing alone all the laundries then i need to wake up early to hang those over even though i am too sleepy!yet 12 hours of driving is await for me i am telling  you this because my privacy is just like a book on the library you can read me all over again,if you want to pick me up but then again,,there is a policy beyond my legacy... " ONCE YOU ARE GETTING STARTED TO TURN ME ON YOU WILL STAND-OUT AND I WON'T EVER LET YOU DOWN " MY SWEET AND WARMTH ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO ALL EVER SINCE THE DEBUT POEM OF MINE,,HEARD BY A CALL starting from then on my INVITATION and INAUGURATION boost my self to face more aspiration and i do believe that " a day after " is our comprehension such as my own motto in life and it goes something like this... " Tomorrow will never be the same beautiful as you unless you keep yesterday seems to be precious,, for you to surprisingly survive the essence of today's challenges! "
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
A Day After
The lazy man's rule in the South If it's snowing, I ain't going.
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
If It's Snowing
Mum is the word. Patience is the key.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
on being cautious
One can only hate, as much as he had loved.
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
Love & Hate (10 w)