"abra" poems
.
abracadabra
abracadabra abr
cadabra abracada
bra abracadabra a
bracadabra abrac
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra
abracadabra abracadabra
abracadabra abra cadabra abracada
bra abacadabra abracadabra abra
cadabra abra cadabra abra
cadabra a bracadadbra
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
The momment I realized
facebook
was a pokedex for people
Was the moment I realized
I don't want to catch them all.
Some pokemon aren't worth the trouble.
Let alone making it double.
Abra for instance,
I understand you like spooning
but if you're going to teleport
every time I throw the Pokeball,
maybe it's best you stay in the cave.
cubone:
Did you ever think maybe,
wearing the skull
of your dead mother
for protection
might mean
you have some serious family baggage?
Pidgey:
I shouldn't have to keep buying repels
to keep you away.
If I stroll through the tall grass
You appear every five minutes
Without realizing I AM IGNORING YOU.
Perhaps you should wait
until I throw another ball.
I'm trying
to catch different pokemon right now
Who fit my team better
Have the Nature I want.
You had your chance
to be in my party
When I fed you that Razz berry
threw the first ball.
Caught you.
then you Evolved
into this big mouthed Golbat
About to swallow me whole.
Trainers.
Stop spending time on toxic pokemon
Poisen types, koffing and wheezing.
Psychic types that play you puppet.
Don't throw the ball to them
Let their grass rustle.
Walk on by
I'm transfering mine in for candies
Catching Shinies
legendaries whom there are only one of in this world.
I stopped trying to catch them all.
I'm searching the high ground
taking time to look at their move set
Running around town with them.
We'll EV train each other,
Get every badge together.
BEAT THE ELITE FOUR
Get knocked down
Go to the pokecenter
Do, do, dodo DO!
Get right back up, together.
Because it's not about catching them all.
It's about healing the ones that you have.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
A whole new spiral,
Trees upon a coil,
Ink from leagues,
Written feathers,
Drizzled down as oil,
Evermore,
Nevermore,
Less is more,
All.
Reverse inside-out,
Springs before fall,
Trojan powered horses,
Mother Nature's fickle,
In life we really are all,
Trapped within a pickle...
Steal the base,
Capture the flag,
Always run the risk,
Chess played on a checker board,
Hands turned into fists...
The endless stairs,
Rise & fall,
Chutes & ladders,
Poles,
Elevated,
Reciprocated,
Orbital magnetic pull...
This way,
That way,
Three rights make a left,
Two of either,
Horizontal shift,
Four times,
Stuck in circles...
Full Moon,
Half Moon,
Crescent Moon,
**** cheeks...
Face cheeks,
Two lips,
Uranus,
**** facts...
The Owl asks "Who?"
Not how many licks,
Cracked.
Tongue twister,
Riddle fister,
******* fcking dcks...
Creation.
Destruction.
Under construction,
Living life,
Chasing death,
Don't forget to function...
Playing hooky,
Hooked on phonics,
Telephone,
Hello?
Lose the "O",
Cheerios,
Rolled away,
Hell.
Pacific Bell,
Pack Bell,
Liberty Bell,
Cracked.
Xs,
Os,
Hugs,
Kisses,
Followed crumbs,
Smacked...
Cacophony of words,
Magnified to deaf,
Pantomime,
Mr. Mime,
Jynx,
Hypnotic crest...
Abra,
Kadabra,
Apply directly to the forehead...
Water your brain,
Fertilize,
Extra fries,
Exercise...
A to Z,
1, 2, 3...
F*cking A,
We say...
Today is here,
The end is near,
All come here to stay...
Escape rope untethered,
Weather altered sky day.
Gaze at stars,
Hollywood floor,
Rich,
Poor,
More...
Life is great,
Life is crap,
You decide,
Not me...
Cause all I see,
Is cacophony...
No sense inside of "we"...
Here we are,
We've come so far,
RELAX...
Have fun at last...
Half full,
Half empty,
Shattered...
At least we have the glass......
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
La vida ya no tiene mucho sentido
Podría estar atrapada en el limbo
Podría estar muerta; pero sólo traería un poco de tristeza y sería una mancha que borrar.
Estoy en una rutina en la que no hay por donde escapar
El tiempo es mi aliado y mi peor enemigo
Tengo tiempo de sobra, pero ansío momentos por llegar
La espera es eterna, y la eternidad se siente lenta, espesa y con mal sabor de boca que te llena de ansiedad.
Estoy clavada en el piso
Con pesadas cadenas que no me dejan volar
Y una jaula que evita mi escape final si es que me llego a liberar.
Soy una infante que se subió a un carrusel
Aquellos que se quedaron fuera para admirarla vagar, se distrajeron con algo más.
Soy una infante en un carrusel averiado
Que da vueltas y no hay un control para un final.
Todo es igual; la misma rutina, la misma jaula, y las mismas vueltas del carrusel. Yo soy igual; la misma criatura que esta encerrada y que ansía por salir.
Necesito algo que me libere de la rutina, algo que me quite las cadenas y abra la jaula; algo que tome el control y detenga el carrusel. Tiempo, ven ya. Te necesito.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
Harry potter fear my magic
Cuz my wand disastrous
Even with my wand absent
Im a prince of magic
My name is aladdin
I send spells to princess jasmine
In her dreams
Until she meets her King
Abra kadabra alakazam
Shazam
Even Kazam
Knows who i am
I write with my wand
In my palm is magic that i dawn
Inside the spawn
Of the creator
Its alot of sparks in my charm
An innovator
That charms
Wicked witches
Son of Sabrina you might kno who Sabrina The Witch is
Even wiccans
Know im wicked
When my wrath is driven
I should create an religion
For magicians
Cause magic i envision
Is beautiful when i present it
Tricks is timid
Against the nemesis
of all wizards
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
It engulfs me even though it has no hands.....at times it's like a person that's claustrophobic. Although, I'm dying to break free.
Haunting me like a secret that shouldn't be told......blackmailing me until I'm really old.
Fear of heights....fear of success.... Fear of going back to school....fear of being called a nerd....although I think I'm kind of cool. Fear of what people will say....fear of standing in front of a crowd....fear of rejection....fear that the finance company has my car up for repossession.
I'm tired of fear.....so we are about to part ways. I have things I want to achieve in my upcoming days.
Faith pays .....so fear you have to go. I don't care how you do it....take the stairs or I can toss you out the window.
You have no place in my life.....you only hold me back.....this isn't a required course....so I refuse to purchase tickets to ride on this track.
Goodbye fear....it wasn't good knowing you.....but it does feel good seeing you leave. I'm now the masked magician.....watch me pull another trick out of my sleeve.
Abra cadabra....hocus pocus.....read these words and maintain your focus....these words that I write are medicinal.....take two after you eat and then say goodnight.
The next day you will be refreshed and renewed....just from reading a few enlightening words.....from some poetic dude.....
Fear is the absence of faith. What is your greatest fear?
Once your fear is replaced with faith.......the obstacles that stand in your way.....will begin to fall like leaves.
Goodbye fear.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 6:24 AM UTC
En los paisajes de Mansiche labra
imperiales nostalgias el crepúsculo;
y lábrase la raza en mi palabra,
como estrella de sangre a flor de músculo.
El campanario dobla... No hay quien abra
la capilla... Diríase un opúsculo
bíblico que muriera en la palabra
de asiática emoción de este crepúsculo.
Un poyo con tres patas, es retablo
en que acaban de alzar labios en coro
la eucaristía de una chicha de oro.
Más allá de los ranchos surge al viento
el humo oliendo a sueño y a establo,
como si se exhumara un firmamento.
La anciana pensativa, cual relieve
de un bloque pre-incaico, hila que hila;
en sus dedos de Mama el huso leve
la lana gris de su vejez trasquila.
Sus ojos de esclerótica de nieve
un ciego sol sin luz guarda y mutila...!
Su boca está en desdén, y en calma aleve
su cansancio imperial tal vez vigila.
Hay ficus que meditan, melenudos
trovadores incaicos en derrota,
la rancia pena de esta cruz idiota,
en la hora en rubor que ya se escapa,
y que es lago que suelda espejos rudos
donde náufrago llora Manco-Cápac.
Como viejos curacas van los bueyes
camino de Trujillo, meditando...
Y al hierro de la tarde, fingen reyes
que por muertos dominios van llorando.
En el muro de pie, pienso en las leyes
que la dicha y la angustia van trocando:
ya en las viudas pupilas de los bueyes
se pudren sueños qué no tienen cuándo.
La aldea, ante su paso, se reviste
de un rudo gris, en que un mugir de vaca
se aceita en sueño y emoción de huaca.
Y en el festín del cielo azul yodado
gime en el cáliz de la esquila triste
un viejo corequenque desterrado.
La Grama mustia, recogida, escueta
ahoga no sé qué protesta ignota:
parece el alma exhausta de un poeta,
arredrada en un gesto de derrota.
La Ramada ha tallado su silueta,
cadavérica jaula, sola y rota,
donde mi enfermo corazón se aquieta
en un tedio estatual de terracota.
Llega el canto sin sal del mar labrado
en su máscara bufa de canalla
que babea y da tumbos, ahorcado!
La niebla hila una venda al cerro lila
que en ensueños miliarios se enmuralla,
como un huaco gigante que vigila.
1.6k
Cierra los ojos y a oscuras piérdete
bajo el follaje rojo de tus párpados.
Húndete en esas espirales
del sonido que zumba y cae
y suena allá, remoto,
hacia el sitio del tímpano,
como una catarata ensordecida.
Hunde tu ser a oscuras,
anégate en tu piel,
y más, en tus entrañas ;
que te deslumbre y ciegue
el hueso, lívida centella,
y entre simas y golfos de tiniebla
abra su azul penacho el fuego fatuo.
En esa sombra líquida del sueño
moja tu desnudez;
abandona tu forma, espuma
que no se sabe quién dejó en la orilla;
piérdete en ti, infinita,
en tu infinito ser,
mar que se pierde en otro mar:
olvídate y olvídame.
En ese olvido sin edad ni fondo
labios, besos, amor, todo, renace:
las estrellas son hijas de la noche.
1.5k
When all the magic is gone
we will crawl from checkpoint to checkpoint
with dull great white eyes
always hungry
always starving ourselves
gotta look good for the summer
when all the magic is gone
we will howl out for sacrifice
it’s shoe harvesting season
and you’ve gotta cop some of this crop
when all the magic is gone
the national anthem will change with top 100
and when the air is stale
the prophets and poets will be driven out of town
to test their mettle in uncaring wilderness
when the magic is gone
we will hail the president on bended knee - blindfolded
when the magic is gone
everything will be trending
and nobody will give a ****
so get your abra kadabras in now
you don’t know how much magic we have left
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Bajo la luna llena, que es una oblea de cobre,
Vagamos taciturnos en un éxtasis vago,
Como sombras delgadas que se deslizan sobre
Las arenas de bronce de la orilla del lago.
Silencio en nuestros labios una rosa ha florido
¡Oh, si a mi amante vencen tentaciones de hablar!,
La corola, deshecha, como un pájaro herido,
Caerá, rompiendo el suave misterio sublunar.
¡Oh dioses, que no hable! ¡Con la venda más fuerte
que tengáis en las manos, su acento sofocad!
¡Y si es preciso, el manto de piedra de la muerte
para formar la venda de su boca, rasgad!
Yo no quiero que hable. Yo no quiero que hable.
Sobre el silencio éste, ¡qué ofensa la palabra!
¡Oh lengua de ceniza! ¡Oh lengua miserable,
No intentes que ahora el sello de mis labios te abra!
Baja la luna-cobre, taciturnos amantes,
Con los ojos gimamos, con los ojos hablemos.
Serán nuestras pupilas dos lenguas de diamantes
Movidas por la magia de diálogos supremos.
1.4k
Stay with me.
Talk with me.
Make me talk to you.
I am a book yearning to be yanked
off the shelf and ripped open.
Don't just look at me or skim through.
Read all of my words.
Consider all of my words.
You read the description on
the back, maybe the first chapter,
You look at me from time to time...
But you do no more.
The least you could do is
read one more chapter!
But now you're reading another book.
Why?
Because my pages are ripped and the
cover torn?
Is the story too depressing?...
If you open the book again
you can change it. Make it happy.
Each time you look at this book
it brightens.
Until you look away again.
Open me.
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 12:03 PM UTC
Yo wait a minute... who's on who's ****
The vibe's only gay cause you introduced it,
You're an ******* you only produce ****
The stupid kid in school that's sniffin' them glue sticks,
I'm the bully, so gimme your ****** money nerd,
I've beaten twenty-two kids up! You can be the twenty-third!
"Yo your **** is wack!" Says every rapper ever,
but not with this guy! I'm just too too clever!
You may think "But you just said it idiot!"
And I'll reply: Be a little considerate.
It was just an example, and you were the recipient!
You aren't even rapping anyway, you're not a participant.
I'm sitting here rappin and I ain't hear a ****** word.
Did I shut your *** up? Am I a ******* wizard?
Abra-Kadabra? Abra-Whatty?
Here's the full spectrum, to a tolerable degree:
Deaf, dumb, blind, black,
in other words, anxiety attack!
All that **** would **** man
no secret plan, cave man?
You can't take over or turn these tides
I'm the tidal wave ***** when I crash you hide!
But I guess it's time to say goodbye
so here are some farewell rules that you need to abide by:
Turn a blind eye, wear a snappier tie
and *don't treasure hunt **** give it a try.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
The little metal box it.hides in plain site behind the velvet painting of a Zulu warrior slightly off center a bit to the right.
The warrior. Hmmm.No The vault.
A naked dwarf. He struggles quietly at midnight to gather and drag my blocks of raw marble across crystaline floors to the vaault then
He stands there for hours before clcking the numbers.Clack goes the handle. Success.
The hinges have rusted since last deposit. He looks furtively over his shoulder as the metalic groan turns to a squeek. Abra cadabra.
Time to do work. Stealthy old fella he whistles while he works.
One block,two, three and so.
He forces the stones through a the four square door.
Rubs his hands together. Wipes the drivle from his chin
Then walks out the door backwards. The one he came in.
My vault is reloaded with pleasure and pain.
So I can write poetry again and again.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
No decía palabras,
acercaba tan sólo un cuerpo interrogante,
porque ignoraba que el deseo es una pregunta
cuya respuesta no existe,
una hoja cuya rama no existe,
un mundo cuyo cielo no existe.
La angustia se abre paso entre los huesos,
remonta por las venas
hasta abrirse en la piel,
surtidores de sueño
hechos carne en interrogación vuelta a las nubes.
Un roce al paso,
una mirada fugaz entre las sombras,
bastan para que el cuerpo se abra en dos,
ávido de recibir en sí mismo
otro cuerpo que sueñe;
mitad y mitad, sueño y sueño, carne y carne,
iguales en figura, iguales en amor, iguales en deseo.
Auque sólo sea una esperanza
porque el deseo es pregunta cuya respuesta nadie sabe.
1k
Abra cadabra.
You played a trick on me.
Disappeared without a trace.
Was I not worth the warning?
Was I just not worth it for you anymore?
You used me.
Like a toy on a shelf
you only paid attention to
when you were bored.
when it was convenient.
when you had nothing else to spend your time on.
I let you right in,
left the door wide open for you,
yet all you did was rob me
and leave.
If you think I'm going to
put up with you forever
I can't
My patience isn't unlimited
and you used it right up.
I've grown tired of the chase.
I'm done.
It's time I perform a disappearing act of my own.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
ver como tu mirada quemaba cada parte de mi,
ver como tus labios alimentaba el ansia en mi ser,
era algo inexplicable lo que hacías conmigo, era algo que no se podía expresar con palabras, era algo que iba mas allá; eramos como dos cuerpos que se necesitaban el uno al otro; como tener un candando sellado sin una llave que lo abra
eras esa luz al fondo del carril, eras una fantasía nunca pensada
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
Corro lejos de ti, me ahogo entre las comas intencionales.
Entre los párrafos llenos de excusas sin razón pero buscando con desesperación.
La perdición.
Lección con sanción.
Error tras error.
Y sobra la noción.
Dentro de la nada y rodeada de nada.
Nada. Pero asfixia.
Corro lejos de ti, hacia el miedo.
Hasta luego (en el mejor de los casos, en el peor de mis casos)
Toma tus memorias, nuestras memorias, y guárdalas en una caja.
Que nadie la abra. Que nunca la olvides pero que no la recuerdes.
Y si puedes: toma mis ojos, póntelos, y veme.
Entiéndeme,
pero no me perdones.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
I constantly dream about you
When I'm awake I can control myself
It's as if my mind's sub-conscience
Knows to strike when I'm at my weakest
I traveled the world on the back of a Spartan hover car
I traversed icy mountains with leather backed baloths
Renee was trying to get us to meet together
I think what has happened also hurt her
I found you in a city where they sprayed painted
bricks on the wall of an unfinished Big Ben
My heart knew what was coming and my
brain could only wait for when
The sunlight glared off my glasses
When I swear I could see you
Abra called my name and told me I had
to go somewhere else
So we submerged under the ice
In the submarine Northern Lights
I was learning about the magic of fireworks
When a struck our core and the hull did burst
Floating around a whale swallowed me hole
I walked down its throat in a room so cold
And I saw you there with open arms
Waved away fears and all alarms
Until I woke up to a boring world
Bed was stale and air was cold
Realizing only when I sleep is when
I'll ever be able to see you again
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
Repost:
~~~~~~~~~~
For me from my love for our children lala, sassy, coco:
I heat up, I can't cool down
You got me spinning
'Round and 'round
'Round and 'round and 'round it goes
Where it stops nobody knows
Every time you our darling kids call my name "Mom" Angel Mom"
every time I Mom you call
you sweetie pies lalasassicoco " P. a. t. r. k." papa too comes to mind.
Your names up high in the sky" Scarlet Letter " A" is seen A for Angel.. ine.
My rkrdd, heat up like a burning flame
Burning flame full of desire
Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher
Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra abracadabra
Abracadabra
You make me hot, you make me sigh
You make me laugh, you make me cry
Keep me burning for your love
With the touch of a velvet glove
Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra abracadabra
Abracadabra
I feel the magic in your caress
I feel magic when I touch your dress
Silk and satin, leather and lace
Black ******* with an angel's face
I see magic in your eyes
I hear the magic in your sighs
Just when I think I'm gonna get away
I hear those words that you always say
Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra abracadabra
Abracadabra
Every time you call my name
I heat up like a burning flame
Burning flame full of desire
Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher
Yeah, yeah
I heat up, I can't cool down
My situation goes 'round and 'round.
"Here I am, send me an Angel" to lay me down on a greenest grass,
In memory of his velvet canon
caressing my cheek
igniting those forest fires that forever burn
~~
By: Steven Haworth Miller.
Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 1:41 PM UTC
You are so beautiful.
You are so young.
Won't you stay just the way
You are...
Days of pretending over,
You bask in the feeling
Of finally being seen.
I watch breathlessly.
Inside you is cotton and
Gold. I want to hang you on
My favourite wall and
Die gazing.
I want to put my most
Precious belongings in your
Chest and turn the
Key,
Toss it over my shoulder
And name you
Safe.
I put on my writing ring
And do this.
Tomorrow I smell you.
Tomorrow, I awaken again.
We count down and live.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:22 PM UTC
Abril, sin tu asistencia clara, fuera
invierno de caídos esplendores;
mas aunque abril no te abra a ti sus flores,
tú siempre exaltarás la primavera.
Eres la primavera verdadera;
rosa de los caminos interiores,
brisa de los secretos corredores,
lumbre de la recóndita ladera.
¡Qué paz, cuando en la tarde misteriosa,
abrazados los dos, sea tu risa
el surtidor de nuestra sola fuente!
Mi corazón recojerá tu rosa,
sobre mis ojos se echará tu brisa,
tu luz se dormirá sobre mi frente...
705
Melancolía, saca tu dulce pico ya;
no cebes tus ayunos en mis trigos de luz.
Melancolía, basta! Cuál beben tus puñales
la sangre que extrajera mi sanguijuela azul!
No acabes el maná de mujer que ha bajado;
yo quiero que de él nazca mañana alguna cruz,
mañana que no tenga yo a quien volver los ojos,
cuando abra su gran O de burla el ataúd.
Mi corazón es tiesto regado de amargura;
hay otros viejos pájaros que pastan dentro de él...
Melancolía, deja de secarme la vida,
y desnuda tu labio de mujer...!
649
Psychic type with no
Emotional energy?
Abra fled; no spoons.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
I, am the action
What you see, right here and now
Is only my words.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
Así, sire, en el aire de la Francia nos llega
la paloma de plata de Suecia y de Noruega,
que trae en vez de olivo una rosa de fuego. Un búcaro latino, un noble vaso griego
recibirá el regalo del país de la nieve.
Que a los reinos boreales el patrio viento lleve
otra rosa de sangre y de luz españolas;
pues sobre la sublime hermandad de las olas,
al brotar tu palabra, un saludo le envía
al sol de media noche el sol de Mediodía. Si Segismundo siente pesar, Hamlet se inquieta.
El Norte ama las palmas; y se junta el poeta
del fiord con el del carmen, porque el mismo oriflama
es de azur. Su divina cornucopia derrama
sobre el polo y el trópico la Paz; y el orbe gira
en un ritmo uniforme por una propia lira:
el Amor. Allá surge Sigurd que al Cid se aúna,
cerca de Dulcinea brilla el rayo de luna,
y la musa de Bécquer del ensueño es esclava
bajo un celeste palio de luz escandinava. Sire de ojos azules, gracias: por los laureles
de cien bravos vestidos de honor; por los claveles
de la tierra andaluza y la Alhambra del moro;
por la sangre solar de una raza de oro;
por la arrnadura antigua y el yelmo de la gesta;
por las lanzas que fueron una vasta floresta
de gloria y que pasaron Pirineos y Andes;
por Lepanto y Otumba; por el Perú, por Flandes;
por Isabel que cree, por Cristóbal que sueña
y Velázquez que pinta y Cortés que domeña;
por el país sagrado en que Herakles afianza
sus macizas columnas de fuerza y esperanza,
mientras Pan trae el ritmo con la egregia siringa
que no hay trueno que apague ni tempestad que extinga;
por el *** simbólico y la Cruz, gracias, sire. ¡Mientras el mundo aliente, mientras la esfera gire,
mientras la onda cordial aliente un ensueño,
mientras haya una viva pasión, un noble empeño,
un buscado imposible, una imposible hazaña,
una América oculta que hallar, vivirá España! ¡Y pues tras la tormenta vienes de peregrino
real, a la morada que entristeció el destino,
la morada que viste luto su puerta abra
al púrpureo y ardiente vibrar de tu palabra:
y que sonría, oh rey Óscar, por un instante;
y tiemble en la flor áurea el más puro brillante
para quien sobre brillos de corona y de nombre,
con labios de monarca lanza un grito de hombre!
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