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#shell
~for shell~ the doctor wants world peace. ok not too much to ask for, I guess, by the just in case that’s a little late e~arriving so, just letting you know she enjoys cooking too; scratch any human (99.999%) you’ll scratch a gourmand gourmet a lover of food mmmm wonder if that could somehow be connected to, world peace? 😉 wink, and et un salut 😑 fini
0
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 4:18 AM UTC
Cooking too.
here, in the night a star's a crowd: she leans towards the moon's dance- digging in the space of a shell, for remembrance.
0
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 4:30 PM UTC
1
I remember when I felt real I remember when I felt I could do no wrong And then I never did Now I feel like a shell A shell of nothing I can’t do anything right I can’t do anything worth applause All I have left is my feet on the grass I want to live in the times of “My Mindset is Beautiful” I want no doubt I love to speak my mind when people take interest in my speech They tell their family about me With the words of “She’s so peaceful,” I want to feel that way in myself I want the unreal feeling of applause and miracle I want to be the He of life. I want to be a shell of love and peace I want to be earless to the negatives of my shell I want to feel whimsical I want to feel of the times where the shell is peaceful That’s where I want to live and die -Kat.J.K
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Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 7:03 PM UTC
I Want to Remember
A world of fears, Full of tears. Joy is no more, Chaos is everywhere. You are just a shell, In the tears well.
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Nov 22, 2025
Nov 22, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC
A World of Fears
Love is the shell of the oyster The caramel centre The worrisome weather Coast coasting shooter Cyanide chaser Hand with the feather That beckons, bats, pressures Love is a dream without dreamers The real thing Love is the magical realm of beauty we wanted to lift... A waterfall pounding All streams of past to the place... Love is everything missed and remade
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Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:17 PM UTC
Love Sift
A shell stands in the wind unsure of what it is but first a man walks up to it pick and **** pick and **** "Why are you so hollow?" pick and **** pick and **** "Do you not like me?" pick and **** pick and **** but, a piece of the shell broke. Satisfied, the man left The broken shell stands in the wind still unsure of what it is A woman in the distance walks up to the broken shell she jabs at the pices "Why are you so lazy?" jab and stomp jab and stomp "All you do is act lazy!" jab and stomp jab and stomp the pressure breaks another piece and satisfied the woman leaves the shell hollow and empty crumbles to dust it gets swept off a mountain as a powder of crust now the shell is no more and all that remained was a beacon of hope that one day the shell won't be empty no more
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Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 5:40 AM UTC
Shell
I'm I crazy I'm no longer in sync, With my thoughts Neither with my words My emotions are of no consequence either I'm I crazy I smirk instead of cry I chuckle at tragedy I shrug at despair I turn at disappointment I'm I crazy Can't remember how to truly smile Oh this is rich coming from a soul whose laughter was contagious Whose smile was worth the hassle Yet I wasn't spared I'm I crazy That I can only discern Hunger and thirst Save anger The rest are a blurr Yes I'm crazy But I'm also a shell Whose smile wasn't worth fighting for
0
Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 6:44 AM UTC
I'm i crazy
It's a real struggle for me To be near you, and truly be myself – Sometimes I feel like I'm either breaking free from my shell or retreating back into myself Yet, one thing is clear: I'm like a timid pet turtle, gradually falling in love with you – _not knowing what to do with itself._
0
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 4:44 PM UTC
Turtle Love
Break open Soft shell echoes Terrorized Capatulted darkness Pillowy landing You break my fall Caged eyes Beckon Home
0
Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 5:36 AM UTC
Home
** Xuan Huong English Translations by Michael R. Burch ** Xuan Huong (1772-1882) was a risqué Vietnamese poetess. Her verse, replete with nods, winks, ****** innuendo and a rich eroticism, was shocking to many readers of her day and will probably remain so to some of ours. Huong has been described as "the candid voice of a liberal female in a male-dominated society." Her output has been called "coy, often ***** lyrics." I would add "suggestive to graphic." More information about this provocative poet follows these modern English translations of her poems. Ốc Nhồi ("The Snail") by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My parents produced a snail, Night and day it slithers through slimy grass. If you love me, remove my shell, But please don't jiggle my little hole! The Breadfruit or Jackfruit by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My body's like a breadfruit ripening on a tree: My skin coarse, my pulp thick. My lord, if you want me, pierce me with your stick, But please don't squeeze or the sap will sully your fingers! Bánh trôi nước ("Floating Sweet Dumpling") by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My powdered body is white and round. Now I bob. Now I sink. The hand that kneads me may be rough, But my heart at the center remains untouched. The Cake That Drifts In Water by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I was born virginal and beautiful, Yet my life's been full of struggles. My fate rests entirely in the hands of the elites. Yet still I shall keep my heart pure. Ode to a Paper Fan by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch One ring receptive enough for any rod, Coyly alluring since ancient times… Your employment is to cool down sweating heroes, To cover gentlemen’s heads whenever it rains. Behind the bed-curtain, let’s tenderly ask him: Panting like a dog in heat, are you satisfied? ***** You! by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch ***** the rule that makes you share a man! You slave like maids but without pay. Unplanned Pregnancy by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My yielding resulted in this chaos; Who can understand my anguish? … However, this love-load I’ll soon be lugging, Despite the world’s condemnation (To have child, without a husband) Is a an exceptional feat! The Unfortunate Plight of Women by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Hey sisters, do you know? The baby bawls at your breast While your husband slides onto your stomach. Both demanding your attention, Both endlessly tugging. All must be put in order. “Hurry up with the flowers!” Such are the demands of husbands and children. Hey sisters, do you know? Questions for the Moon by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How many eons have you been there, Endlessly transposing from slender to pregnant? … Why do you orbit, aloof, the loneliness of night, yet blush — so pale! — when seen by the sun? Awake, long past midnight, whom do you seek? Why so enchanted with hills, rivers and dales? At the Chinese General's Tomb by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I see it there — looming, alone — the General's tomb, so impressive! But if I could be reborn, become a man, with such advantages, couldn't I do better? Advice to a Lamenting Widow by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Why are you wailing, boo-hoo-ing, mourning a man? Can it sister! Desist! Don't shame yourself! O my ear sister, I should have warned you: Don't eat meat, if it makes you ***** blood! Wasps by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Where and why are you wandering, foolish wasps? Come, your big sister will teach you to compose! Silly baby wasps suckle from rotting stamens; ***** ewes **** fences when there’s freedom in the gaps. Lament for Hô Xuân Huong by Nguyen Emperor Thieu Tri's brother loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Here the lake overflows with lotuses; Allow the flower girls to gather some, While not trampling Hô Xuân Huong's grave! For in the Golden Springs beyond, She still anguishes over lost love. Her lipstick desiccate, her rouge faded, her tomb unattended, Xuân Huong is gone… Most of Huong's poems were written in Nôm script, a complex Vietnamese adaptation of Chinese characters employed from the 15th to 19th centuries. Through her Nôm poems, Huong helped elevate the status of Vietnamese poetry. A century later, she was called "the Queen of Nôm poetry" by Xuan Dieu, one of Vietnam’s greatest poets. Huong was more than a mere penner of ****** verse; she was an "outspoken proto-feminist: an irreverent wild card bringing a new voice to Vietnamese poetry while marking out a bolder trail for what it means to be a woman." ** Xuan Huong is an improbable figure in Vietnamese literature. Vietnamese historians are virtually unanimous in acclaiming her as the 'most special ' poetry writer who ever lived in Vietnam. … She wrote poetry which, for all its playfulness, may have been the darkest assault upon Confucian ethics ever delivered by a literate scholar of a classical East Asian society. Most modern Vietnamese writers agree that she often went too far, to the point where her contemporaries regarded her as a 'monster ' whose influence should be obliterated. — Alexander Woodside, Vietnam and the Chinese Model Confucian ethics decreed that a female should obey: first her father, then her husband, then her son after her husband’s death. Huong was apparently born in the Quynh Luu district of the north-central province of Nghe An. Xuan Huong means "Spring Fragrance," "Spring Essence," or "Scent of Springtime." Her father, a scholar named ** Phi Dien, died young. Her mother remarried, as a concubine. Huong grew up near Thang Long (modern Ha Noi), in a male-dominated society in which polygamy was permitted and men were more privileged than women. Huong may or may not have been a concubine herself. Very little is known with any certainty about her life. In 1962, Nguyễn Đức Bính admitted, "I don't know anything about the poetess Hồ Xuân Hương and other people don't know any more than I do." And yet legends do take on lives of their own! Keywords/Tags: ** Xuan Huong, Vietnamese, English translations, snail, grass, shell, hole, breadfruit, jackfruit, tree, skin, hands, sap, stain, dumpling, body, powder, powdered, sink, bob, swim, pond, heart, center, red, nom script, spring fragrance, spring essence, concubine
0
Dec 11, 2022
Dec 11, 2022 at 8:17 AM UTC
** Xuan Huong translations
** Xuan Huong English Translations by Michael R. Burch ** Xuan Huong (1772-1882) was a risqué Vietnamese poetess. Her verse, replete with nods, winks, ****** innuendo and a rich eroticism, was shocking to many readers of her day and will probably remain so to some of ours. Huong has been described as "the candid voice of a liberal female in a male-dominated society." Her output has been called "coy, often ***** lyrics." I would add "suggestive to graphic." More information about this provocative poet follows these modern English translations of her poems. Ốc Nhồi ("The Snail") by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My parents produced a snail, Night and day it slithers through slimy grass. If you love me, remove my shell, But please don't jiggle my little hole! The Breadfruit or Jackfruit by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My body's like a breadfruit ripening on a tree: My skin coarse, my pulp thick. My lord, if you want me, pierce me with your stick, But please don't squeeze or the sap will sully your fingers! Bánh trôi nước ("Floating Sweet Dumpling") by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My powdered body is white and round. Now I bob. Now I sink. The hand that kneads me may be rough, But my heart at the center remains untouched. The Cake That Drifts In Water by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I was born virginal and beautiful, Yet my life's been full of struggles. My fate rests entirely in the hands of the elites. Yet still I shall keep my heart pure. Ode to a Paper Fan by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch One ring receptive enough for any rod, Coyly alluring since ancient times… Your employment is to cool down sweating heroes, To cover gentlemen’s heads whenever it rains. Behind the bed-curtain, let’s tenderly ask him: Panting like a dog in heat, are you satisfied? ***** You! by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch ***** the rule that makes you share a man! You slave like maids but without pay. Unplanned Pregnancy by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My yielding resulted in this chaos; Who can understand my anguish? … However, this love-load I’ll soon be lugging, Despite the world’s condemnation (To have child, without a husband) Is a an exceptional feat! The Unfortunate Plight of Women by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Hey sisters, do you know? The baby bawls at your breast While your husband slides onto your stomach. Both demanding your attention, Both endlessly tugging. All must be put in order. “Hurry up with the flowers!” Such are the demands of husbands and children. Hey sisters, do you know? Questions for the Moon by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How many eons have you been there, Endlessly transposing from slender to pregnant? … Why do you orbit, aloof, the loneliness of night, yet blush — so pale! — when seen by the sun? Awake, long past midnight, whom do you seek? Why so enchanted with hills, rivers and dales? At the Chinese General's Tomb by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I see it there — looming, alone — the General's tomb, so impressive! But if I could be reborn, become a man, with such advantages, couldn't I do better? Advice to a Lamenting Widow by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Why are you wailing, boo-hoo-ing, mourning a man? Can it sister! Desist! Don't shame yourself! O my ear sister, I should have warned you: Don't eat meat, if it makes you ***** blood! Wasps by ** Xuan Huong loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Where and why are you wandering, foolish wasps? Come, your big sister will teach you to compose! Silly baby wasps suckle from rotting stamens; ***** ewes **** fences when there’s freedom in the gaps. Lament for Hô Xuân Huong by Nguyen Emperor Thieu Tri's brother loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Here the lake overflows with lotuses; Allow the flower girls to gather some, While not trampling Hô Xuân Huong's grave! For in the Golden Springs beyond, She still anguishes over lost love. Her lipstick desiccate, her rouge faded, her tomb unattended, Xuân Huong is gone… Most of Huong's poems were written in Nôm script, a complex Vietnamese adaptation of Chinese characters employed from the 15th to 19th centuries. Through her Nôm poems, Huong helped elevate the status of Vietnamese poetry. A century later, she was called "the Queen of Nôm poetry" by Xuan Dieu, one of Vietnam’s greatest poets. Huong was more than a mere penner of ****** verse; she was an "outspoken proto-feminist: an irreverent wild card bringing a new voice to Vietnamese poetry while marking out a bolder trail for what it means to be a woman." ** Xuan Huong is an improbable figure in Vietnamese literature. Vietnamese historians are virtually unanimous in acclaiming her as the 'most special ' poetry writer who ever lived in Vietnam. … She wrote poetry which, for all its playfulness, may have been the darkest assault upon Confucian ethics ever delivered by a literate scholar of a classical East Asian society. Most modern Vietnamese writers agree that she often went too far, to the point where her contemporaries regarded her as a 'monster ' whose influence should be obliterated. — Alexander Woodside, Vietnam and the Chinese Model Confucian ethics decreed that a female should obey: first her father, then her husband, then her son after her husband’s death. Huong was apparently born in the Quynh Luu district of the north-central province of Nghe An. Xuan Huong means "Spring Fragrance," "Spring Essence," or "Scent of Springtime." Her father, a scholar named ** Phi Dien, died young. Her mother remarried, as a concubine. Huong grew up near Thang Long (modern Ha Noi), in a male-dominated society in which polygamy was permitted and men were more privileged than women. Huong may or may not have been a concubine herself. Very little is known with any certainty about her life. In 1962, Nguyễn Đức Bính admitted, "I don't know anything about the poetess Hồ Xuân Hương and other people don't know any more than I do." And yet legends do take on lives of their own! Keywords/Tags: ** Xuan Huong, Vietnamese, English translations, snail, grass, shell, hole, breadfruit, jackfruit, tree, skin, hands, sap, stain, dumpling, body, powder, powdered, sink, bob, swim, pond, heart, center, red, nom script, spring fragrance, spring essence, concubine
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You in your wait, me and in mine, we've brought to a halt our whole LIFE for awhile your garden sprouted new seeds I don't want to live nor die without you You've gone willow on me I blame only me Hear my plee and re-appear bless me ágain babe Pick me up from this dessert land where only evil passes by to steal my last portion of bread. my last earned dime. I am homeless near your gold mine and frozen wind turbines in your power bless me. Please fortune maker build me an abode.   Save me from this homeless exiled purgatory. I've paid for my mistakes I am only human spare me. ~~~~~~~~~~ Karijinbba
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Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 1:06 PM UTC
Shell Shock
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.. That's only skin deep though, what's a common rock to someone, is another's treasure. Beauty is the light that shines when you talk, when you walk, when you do what you love. Beauty is the way you express yourself, beauty is loving and accepting yourself for who you are and making the best version out of yourself. Beauty is self love, self care, self discipline, beauty is self respect, self worth, self improvement, beauty is good manners and behavior, beauty is your hungry mind, your loving energy, beauty is the way you view the world, beauty is knowing when you're wrong and knowing when you're right, beauty is honesty, beauty is humbleness, beauty is authenticity. Beauty isn't just one certain type, beauty is the diversity in mankind. Beauty is so much more than just a canvas to change colors and fabric on. Beauty is meaningless if it's just an empty shell. A shell found on the beach is beautiful; because it holds something precious inside.
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Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
Beauty
Sleepy blue ocean Hiding in a cowrie shell I heard her snoring
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Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 5:18 AM UTC
Being Six
Hope for more Than individuality Amongst the throng Of arachnids To be the organism And know what meaning means Power and fame Provide the human ego With fleeting satisfaction Love is a connection Outside ourselves If real Not man evolved lust Energy between us is palpable Passion amplifies Yet we are all lonely And yearning souls Trapped in a shell of life
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Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
Beyond the Shell
i am not a shell of a man in fact i'm looking for my shell not having a body means not feeling anything and i find myself missing the cold
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Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC
entry 11
It's never about How strong the cage is Or how high the bars are; I have seen people Spending lifetime In their 'own shell'
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Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 7:27 PM UTC
The Prison
living in a way to avoiding the word failure in your epitaph, for a foreseeable reward in heaven, is like walking on eggshells without ever breaking out of your own shell.
0
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 8:58 AM UTC
Your Epitaph
You Are like a flame. And I am highly combustible household furniture. And so you move close to me, and touch me. And set me on fire. Slowly, Then all at once You multiply and engulf me in your love, in you. All of you. And we burn A beautiful hot blaze, wrapped in desire and hunger And we burn Illuminating the room, the house, the street. And we burn, your flames multiply and grow and we are tangled in heat and desperation. And we ignore the: warning highly flammable sign And dance till we’ve scorched through the floor, Leaving burnt out embers You consume me, all of me. You search my heart, my soul, my body. A house, room to room Stealing all my possessions, All my highly flammable household furniture And I let you. I watch your flames dance to me and I feel your heat. And I let you burn me. Enveloped in the pleasure of your flames I burn. Hot. Desire. Hot. Until you’ve burnt through it all. Left my reflection a wobbling photo of grief. Exhausted. No more oxygen to eat on. Just C 0 2. No more me and you. And I’m just a shell. A frame. Filled with burnt furniture And black.
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Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 8:47 PM UTC
Ignite: Highly Flammable