"abba" poems
anise flavored love song
black as night unseen
fog fills tinting windows
bite me like I'm soylent green
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 9:10 AM UTC
i never used to understand why people
hid their pop preferences like
they might hide a **** room...
or like: the toilet paper ran out,
so i jumped into the shower story;
what's with pop music in older people
and getting the embarrassment sticker
that says: HI, MY NAME IS JEFF
AND I LIKE BRIE POP FROM SCANDINAVIA:
nostalgic culmination? death growl
dark metal: the frustration apparent throughout:
frustrated amateur singers with their
strained veiny necks... see that aorta?
opera singers? are they even opening
their mouths, or is this opera meets Roy Orbison?
and by god, that's the case, people are
ashamed to actually acknowledge their
pop preferences... no wonder Patrick
Bateman is fuelled by it...
it's very much like that... pop's the foundation
in you actually liking music...
shame i love music more than women:
keeps my sanity... 2 months apart
and you can't hear a vacuum cleaner,
maybe once a week... maybe...
then the radio starts playing some vintage Roxette...
Abba who? that's for those aged
40 and above... Roxette is my generation's equivalent.
Roxette's masterpiece? Joyride:
the entire album, yes, you'll listen to
this album like some prog rock feast:
Joyride ( : + italics
is the same as bold:
double emphasis )
***** you will! Roxette's Joyride is the
epitome of pop!
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
I am 18 years old and I have seen more than enough.
I have made it through the darkest nights
where I just wanted to die.
I am paying the consequences for the pain
that others have cost me.
I have scars and lines littering my body
and I can not eat bread or go one day without
thinking about calories.
I am terrified of annoying people and can not fathom
someone staying by my side forever.
The demons will not leave but I have something stronger.
Hope breeds eternal misery
and they say relationships do not heal you but
I have to disagree with that.
My relationship with God, my Abba
is the remedy.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
*Little chick
under Abba's wing
intimate haven
of sweetest grace
Little child
learning to sing
of infinite joy
in Abba's face*
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
MONKEY IN A RED FEZ DANCING TO ABBA
I watch the children play
on a sunny Sunday in Rotterdam
like a stereotypical alien
studying humans.
Their cries rise and fall
like seagulls as they swing
sea-sawing or blurring into one
on a brightly coloured turnstile.
A man looking
like a badly drawn cartoon
turns the handle slowly of
a broken down barrel *****
A monkey in a red fez
dances on the end of a chain.
The barrel ***** spews out
everything from Abba to Franz Lehar.
The decrepit old man
and even more decrepit monkey
appear as if they have
stepped out of another century.
I am far from home.
The day is dying.
I read from my battered book
Hamsun's HUNGER.
It's lurid cover torn
half hanging on/off.
The park deserted now
as night steals its colours.
The last words of
of this the final chapter
are lost to me
swallowed by the dark.
The barrel ***** peersists
the soundtrack to some forgotten film
The monkey red fez
fallen at its feet.
The monkey blissfully
asleep.
The music caught
entangled in branches and leaves.
I watch the yellow lights
blossom one by one
a silhouette of houses
like a stage set.
Houses like cut-out silhouettes
a stage set.
The last lines revealed
under a passing lamp
"...where the windows shone so
brightly in every home..."
I laugh at such
a coincidence.
Leave the book on the bench
for some other me
to discover
when the sun comes up.
And return
to my space ship.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Nina Simone, occupying ears singing about bed and dressers.
Sparsely populated
young couple
Interrupted by saying amusements.
Only two stops
I know where to get off
I knew to mind the gap
I'm a responsible citizen
Voter with a valid railcard
Only two stops
Purchased a ticket
Only two stops
I can not throw up in that time
I can not clear my system of over-priced beer
A niche in the market
Exploited in the name of money Making let's just raise them
let's charge extortionate rates for an autoimmune disease
Paying to support a normal drinking culture embedded into the narrative
Growing by in the western world Listening to Nina Simone
Only one stop now you'd never know what life would be like
Without loud pop charts entertaining a few leaving the others yearning the return of ABBA when times were simpler and people cared about Eurovision and illegal music was your own
“Tickets please”
He seems awfully jolly for a late night shit-shift on Arriva Trains Wales
Who's making him work and why's he So ******* happy about it
Real extra effort! Soul sapping in my opinion
Last stop gotta get off.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
Jehovah God the Father
Looked down upon His Son
In terrible pain and agony
But knew what He'd begun
Christ's blood was pure as driven snow
So He could be The One
He would have to look away
As Jesus took on Sin
But He so loved the World
He gave His belov'd to win
All the souls that were foretold
To accept and honor Him
For Jesus Christ was blameless
He was the Perfect Lamb
Yahweh The Almighty
Saw Jesus in His tomb
Christ was sent to Paradise (1)
To declare the Gospel's Truth!
Then to hell's dark doors
Our Mighty King was taken
Took the keys of hell death and grave
From the hands of Satan!
Before the dark army's eyes
He went up through the air!
Leaving the Prince of the Darkness
Fuming in his lair!
God the Abba Father
Gave us Victory when
He sent His Resurrection Life
And His Son Rose Again!
Jesus Christ has Conquered!
Everything is DONE!
He was the Perfect Sacrifice
NOW **WE CAN OVERCOME!**
SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/26/2016
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
I found a scribbled piece of paper on my coat,
The wife wrote, "pick up some CANDLES" in a note.
I thought it said "CANDIES" hoping to discover,
that we finally would have candies,
In our cupboard.
So I bought in a rush:
Snickers, Abba Zabba, Milky Way, Three Musketeers, Reeses peanut butter cups, M&Ms, Almond Joy, Milk Duds, laughy Taffy....and such.
I called her and told her all the candies I bought,
She said, "CANDLES, stupid", so I hung up.
Jul 13, 2025
Jul 13, 2025 at 4:22 PM UTC
It no longer exists.
The wind; a passing gale sweeps
my laurels.
The desert is filled, too many
my voice.
Origin, a return to birth.
A sword of blazing fire, winged
halts me.
Where are you Eden?
I look and look,
the desert is filled with voices too many,
which is mine or do i have any?
The sun no weeps, I sing.
Myself, I find, thick of leaves
I carry, it sings no longer green.
Winged fire sword ablaze,
use I, leaves dry. Outstretched,
brown, my arms, fail to sky
afire. Feet my burns, I no walk longer.
Stiff, I root my tree to flower.
Fragrant white flowers, settle.
Pray I to you, of hope I joy.
Bring life to water, Frame of sky
Bring, Abba, Father.
(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal - February 1, 2011)
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
My head is reeling
What a feeling
Bass line pounding through my brain
Skull is cracking
Quite nerve racking
I need something to help dull the pain
Images horrific
Pressure is terrific
Listening to what the station plays
Eyes are burning
The world is turning
It's like it is the end of days
I need to spend some time relaxing
Getting my music back into my head
Listening to ABBA oldies
followed by David Gates and Bread
An afterword or two by Chapin
With The Carpenters along as well
Will help me clear my mind of what's there
And take away the images of hell
KHEL, hour of power
The station of the hour
Killing my braincells by the day
Hard Rock bottom feeders
Rotten Singers, silly bleeders
I don't know why I stay
Thrash and Metal
Brain won't settle
My head is almost set to burst
Glass and Glitter
Makes me twitter
I no longer think disco was the worst
I need to spend some time relaxing
Getting my music back into my head
Listening to ABBA oldies
followed by David Gates and Bread
An afterword or two by Chapin
With The Carpenters along as well
Will help me clear my mind of what's there
And take away the images of hell
Hey There DJ
That's what the kids say
I do it just to help to pay the bills
Super sonic
I need a tonic
To help me swallow down the pain pills
Every morning
Without warning
The pain begins in my head
Metal grating
Music hating
I guess I'll feel alright when I'm dead
I need to spend some time relaxing
Getting my music back into my head
Listening to ABBA oldies
followed by David Gates and Bread
An afterword or two by Chapin
With The Carpenters along as well
Will help me clear my mind of what's there
And take away the images of hell
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
You who graced and
adorned my life with
the fantastic I adore you
for you are my glory
and my salvation.
I am so grateful for your love,
thank you.
The one who made
my life possible,
you are the God of my realization
thank you.
See where I am today just
because of you,
thank you.
I survived the onslaught of the
wicked ones because
of your presence,
thank you.
Everything is working out the
way they should,
thank you.
My heart is at peace because
you are the God of my heart,
you reign in it,
thank you.
The world I see is beautiful
because of your glory,
thank you.
Night and day comes and goes,
yet you keep us safe and secure us
from the evil pestilence,
thank you.
Fear can never interfere and intimidate us,
for your spirit abound within us,
thank you.
I have a sound mind in a sound body
for there is no affliction or illness,
you are the God that heals,
thank you.
Incredible increase on every side,
nothing is wrong or lacking,
you are all sufficient one,
thank you.
Everything within me says,
thank you Abba father.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
An eye for the Mother
An eye for the Abba
The eye for thy self
body soul
spirit mind
wrath what does
seek what thee do
an eye for an eye
a tooth for the truth
respect whofore thou art
sheep for sinners
lambs for saints
religion for all
gods shut the gates
until love is the one
and death can never be won
Running a race
escaping fate
destiny is a trial
Gaia will disgrace
home is the ground
sky high we fall
to hell and back
a misus event
doomed creation
the virus will
will try and prevent
salvation prosperity
life is key
each to their own
for you and ME....
ELEETE J MUIR
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
♪♥♫♥♫♥♪♥♫♥♫
My fantasies turned blonde in ‘seventy-six.
Bjorn, and the flickas sailed from East to West.
Santa Lucia never shone so blessed
as she did in my private Euro-mix.
Perfect pop longs for that feminine fix.
Cassette wheels whirred – branding, then impressing
grooves upon the brain; my thrall confessing
love for Nordic light (in Disco metrics).
The names still strike flames, kindling bright renown:
Frida, Agnetha – your longships linger
Your Viking faces sacked my harbor town.
portaging hope to this shipwrecked singer,
enwreathing smiles to reach our further shore.
I Do… (times five – and will forevermore).
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
My home before the last was a hard place
I was in a hard place
You were in a hard place too
We've kind of always been similar in that way
Hell, we share a name
But similar isn't always a good thing
Head-butting was to be expected
With you having two
and mine having horns,
I'm surprised we didn't cause more damage
(We should have torn the roof off old Ward Street)
We were in a hard place
But you bought a hydrangea bush for me
and I... sung along to Dancing Queen
We made the best out of our hard place, Gemini
A basement cleared of cobwebs
Coffee after a hard day of nursing school
However, we also made that hard place
even worse for each other at times
and I'd like to apologize,
but I've never been good at showing weakness
My hands shake
and my eyes become lakes
I'd like to say I've forgiven everything
but this salt still burns
Sometimes, I remember the good before the bad
It feels like that hydrangea is blooming all over again
and I can hear your smile when ABBA plays
I think I'm on the right path,
but I've always been clumsy
So, if you've already made it through,
please be patient as I stumble.
And, hey,
maybe I'll forget what was so hard about that hard place.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
Once when we were kids
Mum had fun throwing a dinner party.
I could tell because
there were stains on the tablecloth
but no one was crying,
and the food upgraded from sausage rolls to Sushi and Olives.
I want one-
-You can't, Mum said they're for adults-
I want a Olives-
said the back of my 4 year old sister as she went to try the
New Thing.
The Olive was carefully chosen and examined with 4 years of culinary expertise,
swirled around a gummy mouth and
promptly returned to its post.
It was yuck -
she informed me and her breathless twin from the safety of the veranda
after weaving her way through the adult legs strewn around the Good Lounge without even so much as a
'woe betide you child if you're in here again.'
So we sat and thought about parties and Good Lounges and woe betides
drinking juice,
and watched our Uncle fill his plate with sushi and olives,
singing tonelessly to ABBA
before spilling his beer on the floor .
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
In the rain in the sun,
One smile stood out,
A giggle a laugh,
A face softer than a puppies pout
One colour many looks,
Lilac was the lassie’s heart,
Her meekness in her passion and books,
This lilac lassie was small in size, but big in heart.
She knew that one day her tears of joy and sadness,
Would be her part in the world,
She would pray, never fight, and in her gladness,
The Little Lilac Lassie would always be a special girl.
“I love I love!”
She would chant in her little garden, her own special place,
But what do these words really mean? “I love I love!”
Can you imagine the enchanted look on her white, yet marry face.
She leaped she danced she sang in the rain,
It was her most beloved place in the world,
For rain you cannot hold in your hand to your own advantage, keep on yourself for pride, or make from your arrogance,
That is why rain is special, all on its own.
This told her that The Abba Father was just as the same as the rain could ever be, but for now shall she pray, hope, and have faith, The Little Lilac Lassie.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
I was my fathers prized possession. The finest piece of pottery He had ever crafted.
He worked on me until His hands were pruned.. Until the smell of clay seemingly became His scent. He molded and molded until I was perfect. In His eyes.
He placed me on the top shelf and marveled at me every day and every night.
But His neighbor was overcome with jealousy... At how I glistened at the top of the mantle. At how I gleamed in the sun in all the right places.
You see, on the top of his shelf, lay nothing but dust.
So surely, I had to be destroyed.
In the thick of the night, he stole me off of the mantle and marveled at my greatness.
He brought me back to his place and stuck me in the darkest of rooms.
So that light would never be able to shine on me again.
He spun me on his fingers, no delicacy in his touch.
He tossed me up and down, mocking my beauty.
Day after day I was plagued with the imminent thought of destruction.
Overridden with depression.
I cried out to my potter, and when the thief heard, he ran into the dark room and bellowed "no one will help you", picked me up, and threw me against the ground.
Pieces of me shattered in every direction, strewn against the floor of the enemies house.
My insides, corrupted with sin from all the time collected in this place were brought forth.
All I could hear was the wicked laugh taunting me, exclaiming "who could love you now"?
Then suddenly a light shone in my face, something I hadn't seen in years.
Every broken piece of me looked up and saw my potters face, with tears rolling down his cheeks.
He began to pick me up in an attempt to put me back together...
Abba!! I cried! Your fingers! They will bleed!
My daughter, he replied, I have one hole in each of my hands!! My love for you has endured much more than a few scratches upon my fingertips!
He continued to piece me back together, not missing a beat, not missing a piece.
He shielded me from the looking eyes of judgement, bearing the stripes on His back for leverage.
Abba!! I cried out again, can't you see all of the sin that filled me?! I am no longer perfect! How can you love me?
I understand your sin, my daughter! in it, my grace is perfected! You are my creation, you are my reason! Upon making you whole again, I will not put back your transgressions!
He finalized the touches, not missing one piece.
He wiped my face, not missing one tear.
He renewed my heart, not missing one beat.
He carried me back home and presented me in His name to his Father.
Took His seat upon His throne and placed me on the mantle, right by His side, letting his glory shine on me.
He smiled and said "welcome home, my daughter, welcome home."
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
It is now
It won’t be tomorrow
Or the next day-
When I choose to live
Free from bad thoughts of any kind
I decide to live free like a flying bird
Standing on the promises
Of my only reason for living
My creator and provider
Neither today,
Nor tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come
Will my life be mine any more
And won’t be yours either
I belong to him
Who loved me to death
He who wasn’t ashamed to give his precious son
That in him I may be redeemed and justified
I know I was a gentile
But He cared less about circumcision by the men
What he wanted was for my soul not to perish
I love because I was first loved….
It’s so sweet to be in love
With assurance that you will never be betrayed
Those tough times are an opportunity
To exercise your faithfulness to the maximum
To feel the sweetness of a true friend
That is ever present
And whose ear is always open to my calling
And whose gentle arm is always ready to hold me when I bend
For I have no promise of breaking
All the days of my life
As long as I still have Him as my rock
I will stand firm and strong
Oh how I love your tenderness!- ABBA FATHER
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
It's beautiful,
Your days are beautiful,
Beautiful as you are!
Beautiful than a Juliet rose 🌹,
A rose flower of love,
Your beauties are like
Abba and Meemi.
Your ages, are 1 + 1
Twice in halves
Twins, are twice
I wish you
fluky birthday, and
to pass your obstacles
with flying colors.
May your breath
blow the candle
The royal twins
Happy Birthday
Maimunat and Hajarat
Twins daughters of
Mr. and Mrs.
Umar Faroukh Abdullahi
(DANLASAN)
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 10:40 AM UTC
please be patient with me my brother
cause this is what the crash looks like
i flew so high i knew the sky
was my friend
and now i can't get more than half awake
these drugs got me in a zombie state
the asylum didn't help and all this heartbreak
isn't helping and i know you'll understand,
i'll feel better someday
but i don't yet
a fire always burns beautiful
but whether it keeps you warm or scorches you
depends on whether it's your home
that's burning into
only ashes left
i wish i had the will to play
i wish that i had more to say
but please be patient
cause i don't yet
i don't yet
i don't yet
i know we haven't seen the end yet
so i promise to hold on, hold on, hold on,
i've never been one
to give up on
something as beautiful as you
i know time heals but i beg you to understand
why only sleep feels real today
i wish i had the strength to limp
i wish i had the strength to speak
but i don't yet
not yet
beg the weeping
heavens for me
please don't let it rain like this for too long
unless this rain means new beginnings
i can't see if it does or not
not yet
not yet
not yet
i'm so sorry for these howling cries
but this is what the crash sounds like
jesus jesus jesus
are you weeping
with me? you emptied
yourself and nobody
understood and unlike
me you were perfect,
you were patient,
as everyone betrayed,
as everyone walked away.
i haven't resisted to the point of death, i won't
till you call me home which i know is
not yet
not yet
not yet
amin abba amin
i belong to you
you won't let me go
not yet
not yet
not ever
amin abba amin
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
Why do I run from you?
And not to you?
Like a helpless newborn
I want the comfort of Your arms
But I find myself acting
like a confident, self-sufficient soul
Lord, please forgive me for such foolishness
I admit I cannot live without You
That I am more scared than I am brave
In my utter weaknesses, I know I stand defenseless
Because there are many battles to be won
And my life feels ragged and war-torn from the conflicts
So, Lord, I embrace you once again
As your precious child
Calling you Abba Father
Our earthly fathers may forsake us
and fail us shamefully
But I am forever grateful
that You love me forever
and that You have made me
Yours
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 6:47 PM UTC
i love how after 70cl of whiskey my
metabolism is up and running -
i know, egoistical self-indulgent crap,
but it works! i get to say **** you
to 99 people and say: come on in
to 1 - but that doesn't even
matter, given the circumstance
of the 1 being a schizophrenic;
but hey! i grew a beard
after all, being post-25 years of age,
so a fully grow Amazon on my cheeks
and chin, a welcome reminder of:
the Aztecs played football too,
but it was more like
****** of San Francisco mixed
with golf mixed with netball
mixed with the ailing N.H.S.
chanting: god save our bed-shitting queen,
god save our precious artefacts from
Hindustan. and Gobi the cabby from
new Delhi -
god save our... a round of pints for the lot
of us! way-hey! charging into crusades with
a jaguar export from Germany under
the slogan: Vein Diesel biceps-flexed:
too fast, and two of each:
that'll be a pistachio - say it as meaning
lime green, go on - oi! ******
who's that Russian hooligan with pistaccio?!
one keg-pouch over here must have minded
the safety-belt limit
prior to a heart-attack and you're giving me
all Abba lip-sarge and surging...
gimme gimme a man at half time...
two pints and a burger in and i'll be
juicing up a saxophone for a crescendo better than
this one...
well... it was lovely to meet you, send my
best regards to your mother, a sincerely;
i swear to god, when i'm done, the only
person you'll be phoning will be your mother.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
Dear Abba,
To spiritually photoshop, or not to spiritually photoshop: that is a recurring question. I’ve gotten pretty good at cropping and resizing to keep an impressive façade, but the emptiness behind it is the telling thing, telling me that something about the life I’m living is off the tracks. I’m not the biggest fan of mirrors but I realize they do serve a purpose: showing me the reality, the real me. I’m a ragamuffin, always have been, and yet You love me, the real me. Amazing.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
Halloween was always one of my
Favorite nights of the year,
Although the waiting was torturous
As the date drew near.
What to wear? was always the question.
Not rich enough to be trendy,
We put together makeshift costumes,
And Dad would always pretend he
Didn't have enough money
To spend on fancy treats.
"Besides," he said, "my theory
Is basically sweets are sweets."
We didn't have Darth Vader back then;
Kids were pirates and cats,
Skeletons, hobos, cowboys and Indians,
Devils, witches, and bats.
Mummies, scarecrows, fairies, clowns--
Whatever we could devise.
Many kids were simply ghosts
In sheets with holes for eyes.
Ah, the treats: chocolate coins,
Cookies, Milky Ways,
Popcorn ***** candy corn,
Necco Wafers for days,
Abba-Zabas, Tootsie Rolls,
Bubble gum cigars,
Licorice, Candy cigarettes,
And Snickers candy bars.
We got Double Bubble in packs,
Taffy, Cup-O-Gold,
Milk Duds, Jujifruits--
A mountain of treats all told.
The experts had TWO costumes
And made the rounds twice,
As if one giant bag of candy
Was never going to suffice.
Back at home we'd pour out our candy,
And then the bartering started.
Since I had two older brothers,
I was usually outsmarted.
Mom and Dad let us monitor
Our own candy stash,
And we survived the candy feast
Without a sugar crash.
Until I was fourteen years of age,
I'd never had a cavity,
Despite living in Candyland
In utter sugar depravity.
But I can still eat candy now
And not go trick-or-treating,
Though, granted, there are more nutritious
Foods that I should be eating.
- by Bob B
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:11 PM UTC
Angelina for the love of the Stars,
wrists feel listless
chilling self belief delusional
your wardrobe has claw marks.
A World apart?
I wonder where you keep your screams boxed in?
surely you are not rewinding
the "Cry of the Banshee" again?
Abba he indelibly forsakes
your funereal fatigue,
for your score years has
gone to seed.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC