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#underdog
you’re not down, you’re not out for the count. give yourself some room to breathe. i know they’ve written you off— but don’t you dare give up now. they haven’t seen your best, only your worst— and now it’s got you thinking nothing will ever be good enough. but none of that matters now. what matters is this: you hold the power to shape your fate. so don’t you dare give up now. get back up off the ground— don’t let them count you out.
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Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 8:13 AM UTC
don't let them count you out
Celestial and spritely flower head A cloud of white in a wheel A spread of stars on a sunny bed Enchanting - a vision ethereal Blooming afar and clustering nigh What bud, what blossom, what **** Blowing away with just a sigh In a breath, in the wind that breathes. While the rose is crowned and daisies loved How often are you brushed away But magic lies in your snowy fluff As wishes fly night and day You greet the morning, a languid dawn As the skies turn pink and bright Then gather close with the moon's rising song That plays with the coming of night A fairy's flower you seem to me A joy - a charm - a delight Flying away over meadows and leas In the wind with your wings of white.
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Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 12:31 PM UTC
To the Dandelion
No ode for you, periwinkles No exalted verse or prose No lover's gift you will be Unlike the regal rose Not placed in summer bouquets In vases - never seen Nor gracing dark tresses Nor found in floats of dreams Yet sweet you are to me Happy in blue and white With your merry little faces Like fairies and lithe sprites.
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Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 1:07 PM UTC
Periwinkles
Usually the underdog, The weird -- the strange. Unconventional in style, But with an amazing range. The distinction may be clear, But he has already changed. From the conformity to society, To the death of Me. To the tragic fate that awaits us, Almost every single day. We just try to fit in, But who does that make us? Just another one of them, White-Collar with distrust. Stories tell us to be different, but in reality we shall halt. The very thought of variety Is to be taken with a grain of salt. When it comes down to being true, Just try to be you. You won’t fail your own test, Unless you catch the flu. Sometimes it gets hard, But trust me it gets better. Play your own cards, Just don’t be a setter. In two years from now, or maybe three. Someone will ask you, What’d you do with all that debris? Tell them you left it, Tell them wanted to be free. And that now more than ever, You can live peacefully. As I said before, Life can be tough. But stand up and roar, in that mighty Southpaw galore.
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Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 11:56 PM UTC
Southpaw
Hustle and Struggle; The world may not know your pain Chin up lil kid The sweats on your brow won't go in vain. Climbing the stairs of success bit by bit Standing aloof in a crowd where I don't fit. Sleepless night, exhaustion from the fights Won't stop the chase Till I become the best.
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Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
Unstoppable
The wise woman bends a broken knee Her ewer goes deep into the clear river A shiver From the cold fingertips to the snow of her hair All tangled with voices and   swallowed bits of oceans and    muffled out cracks and     internal bruising and      the light that they give off       the dreadlocks she will never part with. She approaches the crowd that watches Someone bathe in the cold waters. She fills which cups are still upright Nods at a ‘thank you’ or two And wipes a tired eye   as she fills her own with wine.    Water’s to drink      And youth is to behold.
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Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
Temperance
Who decides what historical events adorn textbooks students read, hence a starry notion born grew up while this lumpenproletariat day dreaming, Asian aw shucks husky husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer barnstorming across expansive fields of baby (barely) barley corn crib bed crop 'pon harvest time, (an maize zing genre), especially when enriched with humus laden loamy muck cob bra, then aye delightfully trumpet from dehorn of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me saluting rank and file fool's capped fecund fashioned earthborn dunce sing tassels, versus growing seasons gone by, when draught of ideas forlorn despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn high and dry reap peat head paltry yield, asper when this strapping chap a sweaty backed greenhorn pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy" posterity sagas deeming shenanigans of highborn and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn noble folks, who grease palms of industrialists, whose quaking self importance thwarts aside rural cosseted krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie helping determine zero absolute value of newborn fated to slave away till body electric outworn, yet paradigm shift of (butter late then ever) jiffy popcorn version sown by seeds of Jethro Tull, whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn agricultural revolution took root, whence before long some did scorn and lamented machinations ordered simple existence ripped and torn, where antithetical views suppressed and unto revolutionaries became legion and well-worn.
0
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
Upon Contemplating What To Write...
Who decides what historical events adorn textbooks students read, hence a starry notion born grew up while this lumpenproletariat day dreaming, Asian aw shucks husky husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer barnstorming across expansive fields of baby (barely) barley corn crib bed crop 'pon harvest time, (an maize zing genre), especially when enriched with humus laden loamy muck cob bra, then aye delightfully trumpet from dehorn of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me saluting rank and file fool's capped fecund fashioned earthborn dunce sing tassels, versus growing seasons gone by, when draught of ideas forlorn despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn high and dry reap peat head paltry yield, asper when this strapping chap a sweaty backed greenhorn pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy" posterity sagas deeming shenanigans of highborn and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn noble folks, who grease palms of industrialists, whose quaking self importance thwarts aside rural cosseted krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie helping determine zero absolute value of newborn fated to slave away till body electric outworn, yet paradigm shift of (butter late then ever) jiffy popcorn version sown by seeds of Jethro Tull, whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn agricultural revolution took root, whence before long some did scorn and lamented machinations ordered simple existence ripped and torn, where antithetical views suppressed and unto revolutionaries became legion and well-worn.
Continue reading...
53
Just because someone’s loves you Doesn’t mean they believe in you So go on little guy Go get after it Lets prove people wrong But know yourself Know your worth Back’s to fences? You best get going Go on, Be bold brother! Cocky, confident go **** it! You cocky **** Go back to your circle of sinners Don’t you dare try and take time from the talented ones life ... It’s pretty easy to appoint To not disappoint When you’ve been dubbed such a loser Well... Here’s my stand **** you and **** this    I’m the man! I make the magic! I will prevail I will no longer be pounded Underdogs don’t always finish first But we’ll **** well die doing it So go on little guy Lets go get em Cause even with love little Our hope is high Cocky, confident and **** big chip on our shoulders
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
Torn By “Love”
Seoul boy nice kid, eighteen, from the East took on the east side and the west side story goes, his mother knew "much dings" and his father knew politics, so "less dings" his mother was a woman of words, spoke of feminists, spoke of progress, read many books and spoke goot engeulish, "and your job?" "No, that is your father question." huh? his father was a man that WAS, ran for a lot and stood for a lot and looked far ahead and above of his head but never really seem to stop? Seoul boy thought, of Times Square. Times Square. TIMES SQUARE everyday, out there selling shirts that say "wo-I-NY" and umbrellas when it rained. (and yes, it rained in the city of dreams) soft-lookin' kid hard cash, best friends with the homeless "trash", so-called. "urban campers," "friendly locals!" "fairly loco?" "lotsa cOcO." huh. Seoul boy, working at a Greenwich pharmacy first-time paycheck first-time real job first-time AC first-time man ask me out there, somewhere out there. what? your home. my home? yeah. no. wait what? this is home even gay man knew. even homeless knew. even Seoul boy knew. "best place I am live, 'till die." he said "best place is the New York City." he said
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Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
Seoul boy
“Any future plan?”, she asked I told, “To grow, taller than the height Heavier than the weight.” “haha”, her surficial response I was abstracting my dream. She thought it is fun, Nah ! it’s my life. Let it be.
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Underdog
She sits on her bed wondering if she will ever get better. Ever BE better. She wonders if her choices and emotions are her fault Or a product of something deeper. She stares at herself in the mirror and wonders If her tired eyes were caused by the torrent of tears, or instead, if they were caused by life's tolls. But, What she doesn't know, Is that the only person who sees her in this way Is herself. She Is only the underdog To herself.
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
The Underdog
i hate when people judge other people on the way they dance. like *** *** is she doing, she can’t dance” she may not be able to dance but i bet she is having more fun than you, hater. and to me she looks more beautiful than anyone in here cause she is free
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Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC
Untitled
I was the last served from the dish of good luck Where I sat at the table of life The man before scraped the residual muck From the plate with the edge of his knife But the last shall be first, and so I was served The primary course of mishap I could not comprehend how I had deserved Such a rich and luxurious scrap How can one poor person consume such a feast Of mischance as allotted to me Others would sink in despair, at least To see fate their forsworn enemy
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
Chance
­­­­Meant for more from birth Carried in satin like a god I do not envy you When I succeed it is a surprise Something met with pride Due to lack of expectation The Underdog Advantage When you succeed it is anticipated Should have been more Greater in size and worth Living up to your destiny I do not envy your Royal Disadvantage In this great race The start line may begin With varied handicaps But the finish line is in turn Equal distance I do not believe in Royal Design We are all nothing to begin with Nothing simply looks different depending on Where you're standing.
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Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
Royalty by Design
Trying to breathe, TRYING TO BREATHE into the woods. An old woman in a furry hat & I, laughing together still somewhat lifelike. Ever too proud to play boomerang or go fetch for change FOR CHANGE we live out of bags. Exactly where we're meant to be & 'how you say?' ...all that jazz." --shoo.shu #doubleentendres #poetry #spilledink #inthenow #inthemoment #underdog #homeless #boho #bohemian #wanderlust #gypsy #nomad
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Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 4:47 PM UTC
Trying to breathe...
All things considered I’m not too unhappy With this underdog life Watching from the shadows How other people Who consider themselves To be happier **** up Time after time
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
******
You inspire me to keep writing. You inspire me to continue fighting for what "I" belive in. You make me want to prove you wrong. To show you I'm so much more than a torn page in a book. To show you everything I do doesn't come from a dark place. What I listen to, what I write & what I say. You belive it comes from an evil place. Why? Song: James Arthur X By: Long Live The King
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
Inspiration
Mildly hot But enough to keep the others on their feet So flamboyant but immensely discreet
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Mildly Hot
If you hang on to the wrong things you just might fall What if you lived in a world were the underdog is the golden boy? A huge victory in a tiny mind
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
titled
A willing volunteer It was out of my hands Not my choice No regrets. Should have seen the signs Went in blind Naive to think I could trust you My style never changed You lured me in For your own hidden agenda Massaged my ego I kept my options open You found out You took it personally You took it the wrong way I broke your trust You sought revenge I read the signs You tried to trick me You turned the tables Hindered my growth Made me a scapegoat Damaged my reputation Stitched me up Left me out on a limb You acted on impulse You spoke too soon You showed your cards I held the aces I made sacrifices to meet the target I made mistakes I left myself exposed You thought you were clever I knew your next move You couldn't predict what was coming next. You never chose me I was rejected Not valued Not appreciated Shame on you and your accomplice Exposed for what you are A pair of bullies No turning back I've had enough I'm going Going Gone! You grin I saw through it I'm no clown I'm just a fool for exposing my weaknesses to a pair of manipulative ******* My character traits twisted to bolster your own selfish positions. Surpression is the lowest form of greed threatened by my presence. I'm no longer your target but now direct competitor. Watch your backs I'm on a mission to crush your egos to mush you pair of ****** I will Expose you for the clowns you've become. Blowing smoke up each other's arses does nothing to build up the team. A dog will always bite if provoked.
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Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
Work bullies
A willing volunteer It was out of my hands Not my choice No regrets. Should have seen the signs Went in blind Naive to think I could trust you My style never changed You lured me in For your own hidden agenda Massaged my ego I kept my options open You found out You took it personally You took it the wrong way I broke your trust You sought revenge I read the signs You tried to trick me You turned the tables Hindered my growth Made me a scapegoat Damaged my reputation Stitched me up Left me out on a limb You acted on impulse You spoke too soon You showed your cards I held the aces I made sacrifices to meet the target I made mistakes I left myself exposed You thought you were clever I knew your next move You couldn't predict what was coming next. You never chose me I was rejected Not valued Not appreciated Shame on you and your accomplice Exposed for what you are A pair of bullies No turning back I've had enough I'm going Going Gone! You grin I saw through it I'm no clown I'm just a fool for exposing my weaknesses to a pair of manipulative ******* My character traits twisted to bolster your own selfish positions. Surpression is the lowest form of greed threatened by my presence. I'm no longer your target but now direct competitor. Watch your backs I'm on a mission to crush your egos to mush you pair of ****** I will Expose you for the clowns you've become. Blowing smoke up each other's arses does nothing to build up the team. A dog will always bite if provoked.
Continue reading...
59
The Benchwarmer with peeled eyes and a chip on his shoulder Was all ears but under the weather The Pick of the Litter told him to hold his horses and that he could not pass go to collect two hundred dollars Bob his Uncle was down in the dumps that day And ***** his Aunt's eyes were bigger than her stomach But she had a punchline so funny it would rock your socks off then proceed to knock them off  even though they fit like a glove But somewhere in the crowd there we're various whisperers and a soothsayer who knew The Benchwarmer would win it big single-handedly that day And they all shouted from the stands "You got a good head on your shoulders, you little pain in the ***
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
I Don't Care If I Never Get Back
You With the underdog smile And the quirky attitude I took a shining to you You've been beaten You've been bruised And I took a shining to you We were two underdogs A team But you You can't reciprocate You can't see past your affliction You dig until the ground falls from beneath you And I can't fill in the holes Not fast enough No matter what I do It doesn't mean a thing to you And you don't see the way it eats at me You can't see that I'm defeated Because you're far too busy Digging your holes Gotta have all eyes on you Because everything is you You want them all to know your name You want to be their sun And you beg And you lie And you cheat Dig your holes Bury your knives You bury your knives in me And I've had enough I'm done
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Done