"allocate" poems
Glass is cheaper than the stone skin
tattooed on their foreheads. The palace, a splendid fantasy,
half built when the idea will be abandoned.
Freedom is a powerful nuisance! Their only
sin is looking at the world through rose-colored
glasses, make people feel at ease despite distress and disease.
The right wing redneck reactionary republicans continue
religious slaughtering. *This nightmare scenario should
be nixed,* said with a sneer, I hope they’re wearing warm socks.
Still, I couldn’t crack the code. Changed envy to admiration
to cultivate mystery rare as it is rewarding. The weird thing
is the high-end whiskey collecting dust on the on the shelves.
Nothing short of astonishing, like the space farers gazing back
at the home planet. Distant. They fascinate people.
Animate the inanimate environment. Isolation above.
Looking back I am ashamed of the mess we are leaving
our children and grandchildren. How to allocate these limited
resources? The key is to engage. No easy fixes.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
America needs a poor, ***** mother for president.
We need a Muslim for vice president and a feminist to lead the army.
America needs a homeless man with no health insurance and AIDS to allocate food stamps,
gays to run the senate, and lesbians to run the house.
America needs a president who’s been shot at,
*****
and ****** on his whole life.
A person who has held their dying child,
losing a battle that cancer has already won,
buried up to the knees hospital bills.
America should be run by a person that wakes up every morning with no heat or air conditioner.
Who has fought in a war,
shakes in the night,
and lives on minimum wage.
Someone who takes the bus, the subway, and owns one pair of sneakers,
There is no time or money for anything else.
We need an inner city teacher for president.
Someone who spends 4 hours on Sundays preaching for president,
Just to go home and put on his wife's dress.
America needs a straight talker and a street walker to head the FBI.
An illegal for the CIA,
And a transgender for the DOJ.
But that will never happen.
What I have realized is that there is no longer a distinction between what is right, and what is real.
Real, is a leader is one that has been to the free clinic,
waited in line at the DMV,
and buys clothes from Walmart.
Real, is a president that is no stranger to violence.
A vice president who has been to county.
That has been fed jail food,
strip searched,
and wasted years that they will never get back.
We, the people do not fly around in private jets,
Puffing on Cuban cigars.
We, the people do not solely consist of old, rich men,
Making decisions for young, poor women.
Telling us what we can and can’t do.
Who we can and can’t love.
Widening the gap between the haves and haves nots.
We the people know hard work,
We know blood,
We know sweat,
We know tears,
But what we do not know,
Is how to engage ourselves in the goings on in the world around us.
Take responsibility,
hold your own,
and question everything.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
fingers tapping against your thigh, music note mumblings. subtract everyone else and watch the feeling
m
u
l
t
i
p
l
y
disassemble and reassemble the ensemble and allocate your earnings as earnestly as you can without appearing overeager. overhearing a conspiracy between my lips and your neck. a secret isn't a secret unless you whisper it, so do it, make sure the russians don't hear us as they rush off to give reports on that look I just gave you, the one that is oh so telling. reveling in it. living in the revelation of your skin, pouring down your presence like honey, like sweet molasses dripping thick and sweet, simmering under the sun, glimmering in the water like a jewel, jealous and **** painful and dark and dazzling. beating only in anatomical hearts, out of tune, cacophony and cruel crimson, missing someone not something, left wanting and waning in the light of a lopsided moon, farsighted and fingers that prune in purple light rippling across the walls, willing to travel the planes of your body, embodied travesty traversing the sahara, dunes doomed to be swept away by the wind, breaking and kept away, each grain unable to touch one another more than once, gorgeous enough to be pain, staking your claim on misery before the misers bury it in their own backyards, backwards discovery, a convenient amnesia, believing ruses and runes to decipher in delicate dictum like tricking a language into translating itself.
almost too much of not enough.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
Compromises
In the prosecution of celebrities,
And in their sentencing,
We Indians often compromise as we get influenced by their hype,
And for them we harbor many soft-corners.
In the prosecution of high-society crooks,
And in their sentencing,
We Indians frequently compromise as we get influenced by their heights,
And allocate 5-star treatment to murderers..
In the prosecution of petty thieves,
And in their sentencing,
We Indians rarely compromise as we get influenced by their low status,
And quickly pronounce sentences...
In the prosecution of celebrated criminals,
And in their punishments,
We Indians often compromise as we get fascinated by their misdeeds,
And by their outrages....
In the execution of our daily works,
And in their performance,
We Indians seldom compromise as we often get boosted by their difficulty levels,
And put in that extra effort.....
In the protection of our loved ones,
And in their safety,
We Indians never compromise & protect them with all what we have,
And keep them safe......
In our own heartfelt ambitions,
And in their fulfilment,
We Indians nevermore compromise & strive heartily to succeed,
And rise above the world.......
Then why we Indians can't do,
What's regarded right,
In the society & in all the countries in this world,
And progress like never before........
Why we Indians can't stop,
What's regarded wrong,
In the society & immoral in humanity,
And let our land become a paradise again.........
Probably we Indians require a change,
May be you & I could help by bringing it,
In the social, local & national politics,
And see our country become the India of dreams..........
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
two sides of the same coin, two parts of the same struggle, a heavier burden to juggle,
Ive seen trouble in the eyes of the children on the news,
visions of the glazed and un-phased, shuffling in ruin
as foreign investors appraise the worth of the people theyre ********
the one moral man looking in the mirror asks what are we doing?
Coffee and cocoa-beans,
oil and toil,
diamonds on the queens ears ripped from the soil,
these are the things for which we ****
and people wonder why they can never get their fill,
why they feel morally ill?
perhaps paying taxes dosen't wipe the dirt from your fingers,
halfway around the world construction workers hurry the child to drop his dead mothers hand,
so they can bulldoze her home because the land is high in demand
for agricultural redevelopment, swine being brought in for re-settlement
people for pigs, the market is your master,
the dollar is your god, and your life is a disaster
the reason your life is a facade, is you cant turn false idols through ego worship into god
from a fake wife with fake *******
to fake kids with fake mental problems, A.D.D. generation and corrupt therapists to absolve them
to fake pastors, with fake ideals
this is what happens when one man profits from what another man steals,
and corporations re-define how love feels
and the rich try and justify why the poor have no food
why their own poor have no food, but why its more important to allocate funds to the protection of crude,
this is the slavery to which you have been raised
the hypocrisy of democracy can go on for days,
America, land of the thieves, where ideology is cheaper than bark on the trees
America, the land of the lie, where the children of the poor happily die
and yet America, the land where ideals meet reality, where the hopeful optimism of the middle class rightfully challenges the decadent edifices of the status quo
and where evil in the hearts and the minds of all of us has a chance to be laid to rest through the spirit of altruism,
America the ultimate battleground for truth to triumph over lies,
but where you stand, in the end, is the ultimate surprise.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
A certain quality of softer light prescribed, two points in the day are offered to allocate.
Regenerative from the back of each eyelid,
heat fed into the veins as it self designates, this heavenly state settles our frame of mind.
You can pause, vacate or choose to meditate as reflective thoughts are caught through play.
Seconds lost merge into magical moments, when there is no cost to slip away outside. Pupils dart and dilate as we contemplate, bright beams of yellow turn amber red on sight. Watch in wonder at the view from our third eye, helping transport and connect us to the divine.
Jan 11, 2022
Jan 11, 2022 at 3:12 PM UTC
My heart has been breaking every day
With no way to allocate the exact cause
yes I know where is sets off
but I never know where this deep pain hides
surprise
it shoots from my heart
down my veins
into every limb of my body
then it encapsulates me
help
Am I crazy?
I know this is real
No one knows
The pain that I feel
When I say that out loud I feel like a child
But when I hold it in for an inch, it feels like a mile
This is intensity
In full swing
I know I can be more hurt
But so can a person suffocating
I’m not sure if my heart is being squeezed by something so intense, so present
Or if its getting strangled by literally nothing
Nothingness
Nothingness banging on the front door of my chest
Dense, dense nothingness
Thirst: a very present pain cause by literally nothing when what you need more than anything is something
With thirst, you can have many things, but not have exactly what you need.. what you long for
What if water was never introduced?
What if instead of it being imbedded in every human beings brain,
It was abstract?
What would u do when u had a thirst attack?
Panic
Intermission
Interruption
This depression is the greatest eruption
Something is caged inside me and needs to be let out
But what if it's too real?
What if whatever encapsulates it is Pandora’s box?
And does not change how I feel?
It's like a man
Looking at me, taunting me, torturing, ****** me
Some see him as very generic looking
Others don’t seem him at all
I see ugly and scary
I feel the pain he afflicts upon me
When people hear my screams, they think it’s a silly act
No help to be found
Just me and this empty alleyway full of people
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
Can I call you mine?
I guess not.
It took me some time
To realize this fact.
Smiles reassure second chances
But never will it
Blossom and bloom.
Lady, I am weary.
Induce me a deep sleep
And allocate my fears.
Though I call you mine;
Your heart,
With aggravations,
Will never be.
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 6:09 AM UTC
I walked into Cartier
Dark Blood Red
was their trademark
It was sophisticated
I had a catalogue of rings
placed in front of me
I was presented options
but you were clean and minimalistic
Rose gold, I thought
Visuals like merchandising projecting
our conversations on dresses, themes, flowers
how we'll travel the world, have a home
how our daughters will have my eyes
your nose and our names
we sat at the bay front
had a long conversation till 3 am
discussing how we are going to allocate our daughter's time with our parents, classes -
if they are going for ballet or musical classes
It was certain,
the air was greeted with a breeze
in silent acknowledgement
until now,
I only can blame
how some words fall apart
like the world does everyday
how love is never enough
how we are never enough
how I will never be enough
even if my bones are sore
to its nerves, I will be
Happy for you.
(I heard you are having a baby
I heard you are having a family
I heard you are happy & you chose her) - echoing
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
Memories flood hearts....
Cascading wet tears over jagged sides...
Clench into fists, nails corroded with rot ....
Trembling lips part, release suffocated sounds....
Knees buckle to the floor....
Heated face stopping leaky eyes....
Wind sweeps knocking hands to clear stained boards....
Resonating chill reverberates off walls....
Eyes shut tight....
Fingers clutch weeping pump....
Allocate from edges blunt....
Dismembered morsel lay....
Rouge gushing, layered thin ....
Lifeless, body breathes....
One arm stretched out....
The heart continues to beat…....
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
a lumpy bumpy proletariat hardness has harnessed, hitched and stitched itself into my abdomen.
with the precision measuring instrument, Eye calculate with my fingers its latitude and longitude, using my belly button (half insy, half outsy) as a reference point.
a few days after Eye quite accidentally encountered said lump (for Eye am not in the habit generally of belly rubbing), a slight discomforting sensation joined in to make sure I was never not going to forget it's
invasive presence.
soon Eye shall do a doctor's visitation, who will ummm and hmmm, before sending me downward and inward to a
"S p e c i a l i s t."
I am sorta quite pleased with new adventure,for it encourages fantasy in the most heart wrenching, delicioso tragic manner.
Then along comes the Sunday NY Times, in a piece entitled "Imagining the Lives of Others" just how difficult it is for someone to truly put themselves in the shoes of someone else.
"There are certain limits, however, to how far we can go. The philosopher Laurie Paul, in her book “Transformative Experience,” argues that it’s impossible to actually imagine what it would be like to have certain deeply significant experiences, such as becoming a parent, changing your religion or fighting a war. The same lack of access applies to our understanding of others. If I can’t know what it would be like for me to fight in a war, how can I expect to understand what it was like for someone else to have fought in a war? If I can’t understand what it would be like to become poor, how can I know what it’s like for someone else to be poor?"
The solution?
"One approach is to go ahead and actually have the experience."
ahh. So I shall, until the certainty of unobtainable uncertainty is formally declared, the mind is free to roam about the cabin of life, imagining various and vainglorious dramatic outcomes.
More strange, if it is the worst, I shall be happily relieved by the knowledge that I can plan around a certain mental scheme...what a gift that is, knowing how to allocate a scarce resource well.
Eye will stop here, until mine eyes can see this clearer; here, until the
*bus stops for the poet...
or the poet's bus stops...*
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and goes rotten, and skeletons of industry rust.
the cities are littered with bodies with suits and ties
stepping over them. dangerous speculation leaves behind another gutted home.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and goes rotten, and skeletons of industry rust.
in all of history, never has the world been richer, never
have individuals been richer, and communities never so barren.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and goes rotten.
children cry up from the depth of debt for bread and help and shelter
met either with the ideologue's injunction "AUSTERITY."
or deaf ears and tax-payers money
invested in guns and bombs sent abroad, and rhetoric behind the barbed fences of our shores, and the tools for plundering all the people and every corner and resource of the earth and the as yet still fluid future: the tools to cement our early doom.
all that is wretched is integral to the structure:
it is what the system stands on, everything it crushes,
squeezing out the life and stealing it;
we must come to understand this, and step back.
we'll have to face—or be forced to—collapse.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and people are forsaken, starved, blown up, drowned, deprived of voice and value;
profits are made. life comes at a price, too much for most.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth travelled north - taken - into open arms,
those brave, desperate souls in flight who followed
were handed - abandoned - to the waves or absolute destitution.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded—
"SAVE THE BANKS, SAVE THE COMPANIES, THEY'RE TOO BIG
TO SINK"—they're titanic—"THERE'S NO TIME TO BE DEMOCRATIC—IT'S A STATE OF EMERGENCY—THEY CANNOT FAIL."
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
hundreds of thousands of houses are empty
and skeletons of industry rust.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
and so the world goes rotten.
justice will take more than just good deeds:
open the borders and break down the walls!
set no destinations at which to arrive, but towards horizons strive;
we need not firewood, but the seed:
make union and defiance your call!
open the borders and break down the walls!
produce and allocate according to need
and there shall be enough—for us all!
(and i might add: please,
forgive me my youth and naivety...
but i am no believer in the Fall.)
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
My thoughts aren't always pretty, really, they can be cruel and relentless. They can be droll and demonic. My mind is making me turn myself into all the things I never wanted to be. I like to say, "what an actress" to myself, as I fill desolate rooms with life and character, laughter, a euphoria of jubilation - when I'm "an actress" around a horde of people, friends, Loved Ones, The Ones Nearest and Dearest to My Heart. They gaggle, like a flock of geese, and when your mind is pounding, with a swollen brain, you try to forget; the things that can never love you back, the things that haunt me in varying intervals, etc --- only one person can make me feel my version of Normal, where my humanity of normalcy comes to play --- where I'm up to par with my getting myself together, and, you, being the 3 tablespoons of olive oil, 2 cups of warm water, and 1 cup of apple cider vinegar that heals my dry cracked hands. That's YOU. You're my peach, I beseech you with fervent fever for your innocuous intimacy; we enmesh and evoke in ease, we please the plead we need. There's fickleness whim, in the way our soul cases analog; we allow stymie in the progression of our relationship and we allocate adornment. I'm the sin of sacrilegious sacrilege, the sin of my lips sipping your pureness out of a chalice; but, yet, I wear white. I want you to breathe in my arousal, breathe in my lust, touch my yearned wants and needs, touch my hankering hands, kiss my passion, kiss my pain, coition - on my mother-naked body, be the fabric that nukes my raw reprehensible physique, let's (both) be sinful, spiteful, senseless in the way we drape. Be my contour, be the silhouette that invokes my earnestly and summons my evoked despondent deity, bring vigor and satisfactory vengeance.
(k.m.m.)
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Investment in chronology,
bringing impending doom,
with the decay of your biology,
wasting away in your room.
The seconds are hours,
the hours are weeks,
in building your towers,
your brain cells grow weak.
Ticking of hands,
naught but an illusion,
only beginnings and ends,
decide death and contusions.
Do not live for the present,
do not live for the past,
the future resent,
only trust in the flask.
This day that recurs,
is it all in my head,
or an overture,
the real life before dead?
What is a life,
in ruptured peace,
just fodder for pens,
expended on sheets.
Will it ever be,
the way it was in my head,
those things that I've seen,
lying awake in my bed?
I cannot dwell on what I think,
There is no point to this fight,
I'll just allocate ink,
and try to live how I write.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 4:32 AM UTC
Unfaithful Serpent of scorn, who art thou to lower
your sight? Casting me down beneath thee.
I think not, above own plateau is that of this Kings
Territory. Had I lesser demeanour it would be your
head. Glaring up at the block with rolling eyes of
Crimson glaze.
Away then to White Tower for this most personal of
torments. A lesson to be taught and yes most delinquent
of friend. I will engage precious and most valuable
time as tutor. In near future I do expect your values
will become distinctly comparable to this Royals own.
Under scrutinizer the truth shall become known.
My truth is without doubt. Would thee allocate to
question the word of a King.
If this be true all Hell will befall thee. Ponder well on
this should you doubt my resolve. Should you confess
before God and King answer then with your ink scribbling.
Should you speak true I will show lenience and mercy.
The block will be preferable to thee. The alternative to be
burned to ashes shall pray more wholly on your brow.
This decision is for your own conscience.
Right will raise its head in either forum. Why then keep
possession on the other?
Such is the error of your ways the axe-mans block is your
favoured direction. Your admission signs your own fate
but is of your own design. Free will brings confessional
signature to light of day.
This King is now professed to be unlawfully wronged and
once more is eligible to take his toll.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
. KONSTANTIN KOROVIN
HAMMERFEST
POLAR LIGHTS
1894–1895
i'd **** for this painting...
william turner?
the Westminster Bridge?
what a callous
plagiarism...
notably the lacking green,
and the colors of midnight...
boorish...
like all of English philosophy...
perhaps the poetics...
but when
it comes to philosophy or painting?
the english exaggerate
their... expertise of the sciences...
you certainly can't own
philosophy or painting...
not, a chance...
in the living hell...
you think you are ruling,
Lucifer of...
**** off...
i'm being polite...
not a chance in hell...
no...
the English countryside was and will
always remain too pristine...
mind you...
i'm a beggar...
a fox passed me shy of a meter,
and i didn't paint it...
i wrote a poem,
but prior to: ******* charged at it,
to divorce it from
piercing a
gesticulating at my cat...
with my neighbor's dog...
so much for the painting,
enough:
to allocate the life lived...
a heartbeat...
that...
thank god...
misses the enclosure of
some variant of
hieroglyphics.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
and goes rotten, and skeletons of industry rust.
people are starved, drowned, blown up; profits are made,
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth travelled north - taken - into open arms,
those brave souls in flight who followed
were left to the waves or destitution.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
hundreds of thousands of houses are empty,
and skeletons of industry rust.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
and goes rotten.
justice will take more than just good deeds:
open the borders, break down the walls!
produce and allocate according to need,
and there will be enough—for us all!
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
What exactly does it mean for me
to wisely my time allocate--
abstain, refrain, to lie in wait?
What more, in afterlife, will I see
in living this life pleasure-free?
Have I opted out of golden gate,
if I, myself, do desecrate,
a Plan which may or may not be?
What precisely does it mean for me
to think instead I choose free-will?
Is there such thing as novelty
or is all written, so it shall be?
As the great end nears, I will know nil;
as I know not now, I will know then, still.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
**Love is intense. It's surreal
I've been looking for loopholes because I'd been denied direct access
to love
It struggles for air without us, and
As it always was...
Love bears the cross
W's are all that matter
and I wanted to win again for so long
I've been gone and green
hating on other teams
who'd actually fought for the dream
walking hand-in-hand with their chests out
Knowing all the while that mirrors don't lie;
love is not resentful
and neither am I
but wanted the joy you jump for, once more
I remember it's sensations...
trust, hope and triumph;
It does not deceive. It believes in itself.
It will not falter.
back then...
Everywhere I turned
was an even sweeter burn
and each block...
brighter than the last strip of heaven
every morning that broke
with its light in my eyes...
Warm on my face
Love is almighty. Isn't God love.
Love is the altar for spiritual sacrifices.
Here goes my body... There goes my soul
promise not to give my heart back broken
if I give it up whole
My worship... Our future
This is what it feels like inside the glow, and
As it always was...
Love comes shining through
If I knew then what I know now...
And we don't still look good
we just look good
We're a higher grade
The finest things still get better with age;
red wines. vintage ports
And the business. Our business.
Nobodies business. Good love
so we know to be patient
"Love suffers long."
Has been taken for a fool and for granted... Love gets the drift.
Real love builds you up. A home. Character. Love is all in
How we do is the sweetest thing?
If I could bottle the chill we all feel when someone says I love you...
Blessed to know a love rich enough I'd allocate my fortunes.
I don't wanna lose the sensation...
Faith, sanity or the fight to sustain the fire;
it's in our bellies. it struggles for air without us. it will not languish, and
As it always was...
Love endures
I say we celebrate it. Praise it.
Display it in public. Go to war with it
Love conquers evil every time out
and brought us together today
through these lines... through the rain
and into the clear.
It feels good to know your heart is certain.
There are worse places to be, than...
In Love**
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Procrastinate
Proliferate
Pontificate
Peruse
Demonstrate
Decaffeinate
Decontaminate
Defuse
Constipate
Commiserate
Caliphate
Contuse
Alienate
Allocate
Annotate
Never to
Abuse
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
Pens running out ink
But my words are just running
Out of spaces to put themselves in
Trees are grown in allocated spots
So we have room to pick apples
Never sad in their growth
Unless something is wrong
Even bumpy roads are still solid
So if you trip
You’ll end up on the ground
Not beyond the earth
Regardless of the hollow
Veins on the inside of your
Elbow my make you feel
The yellow sprinkled on green
Sprouted on brown
Can bring back home in
City lights and iced coffee
Maybe you’re none of the above
And maybe you’re all of the above
At least know that the wind
Blowing in your face
Could be forever
If you wanted to stay
And allocate your own design
So your branches can also expand
The way your eyes hold
More and more galaxies
Every time you blink
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
As I view my world
I stood from a far distance
Left to my unused Wisdom
With an open mind
Accessing the great treasure of this
Poetic picture
It worth is unknown
Clerify with deep peace
Which clear sorrow and give inner joy
Never the less I gain wisdom
Each time I view my poetic picture
Each time I view my poetic picture
Grace is made available
Like the blue sky mixed with white and gray clouds
Dew locating it resting place
As I allocate myself terms to it
Fruitful tresses beautify with drip of water
As it dirp down on green grass's
Finding it way on earth
Watering the earth
I could feel the air
powered with purity
The enrolling sound of each bird
Made substantial harmony
The sun rise
Titled with glorious ability
Edifying the field with enrich satisfaction
Each time I view my poetic picture
Each time I view my poetic picture
My poetic picture could be
Me, you, man, woman, words
Sure as I gain wisdom from it.
My poetic picture is the voice that address me in different picase for the moment of reality, existence and truth
Wisdom is profitable to direct
If I may ask
What is your poetic picture?
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 4:57 PM UTC
wash it wash out wash it wash out
let it turn
hoot and a holler
bottled up all day
and like bubbly bottles burst
take my toll
fierce, almost fictional
but never hostile
transcend your barriers and let your impulses take you towards the next side of the room
and then back again
its over and over and over
hear the trumpet whail its sorrow
circling, round, round, round
love, a mist, love to die for
unseen unconditionl surrender
ooohohohoaoh
e,njoy a gin and tonic, and ,dress that ,was fash,ionable at ,som, e point b,ut is in deeper,ate ne,ed of ,recur ,,, , , , rence
the glasses are thick and so is t he smoke that lingers above conv,eras,--------tions and weaves be d,, tween the textu--------res of the deep green trees and their abundant philosophical relatab======le language and you fall into their ro000000000ots, you drUUUUUug their holes and youuuuuu lOOOOOve the earth the same way you love a compliment
Ahhh yeahhh!!!,you're looking the best you have in your life
there is a melody somewhere in the background but your attention is on the person in from of you, the enthusiasm in their voice, and how quickly you are able to agree with them
anticipate like disneyt, tpoets businesses, bartenders, bar menders, cleansers inspectors interpreters judgmenters allocate the spenders reaching out for new vendeor whose the best the lesser??
LET ME GOOOOOOOOO
its warm man, you have a smoke?
swomen, lights, some monument sky high lithe buddah lights little u[p with orange with luck on straight spinnings what was that? take another drink, hey whats your name? I'm from california you like surfing politics I odn'tk know I need to meet my friend
fix fix fix do I need to finish that paper? fixixixifiixx what will my mother say????
you met another guy who is dancing with a girl and he is cool and he is gesturing towards you with his glass of champagne and you
tilt up ystaree he cbottole of beer, but his kindness lingers as you stare into your glass andI smile when? wrong time go away fog forward gly He cracks a really funny joke about your smile
HAHAHHAHAAH
The movie, the movie, those time when I am removed from things and the
My mind balloons and its... delicious
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
Give me the sunrise
Give me a new dawn
Let the sun soak into my skin
I'm so optimistic
A future shining so bright
Give me the setting
of the sun
rising over the ocean
Let me feel the heat
In this good feeling of emotion
I'm starting to pave my way
To the place, I've been trying to create
The one that is filled with serenity
The one that gives me the inner peace
That I need
and wanted so badly
I'm burying my past
Don't you dare allocate your allegations
It's time to move on
Time to look up
I'm tired of drowning in the sorrows
I'm tired of this smile I borrowed
I want to feel the warmth
Of happiness inside
I want that in my life
The sad memories
Are buried six feet under
I don't want to feel another
I held onto so much doubt
The pills wouldn't even drown it out
I had to work so hard
Just to be able to let go of my past
They say that is what makes your future
But I'll be ****** if I'm judged by a jury
I'll be ****** if I let life do that to me
I was hit and kicked while I was down
But I've got skin made of armor now
And I'm happy with where I'm at
That is something no one can take
And now I'm somebody
who doesn't easily break
I'm burying my past
Don't you dare allocate your allegations
It's time to move on
Time to look up
I'm tired of drowning in the sorrows
I'm tired of this smile I borrowed
I want to feel the warmth
Of happiness inside
I want that in my life
I've taken every task
Thrown my way
I've given all the blood
I can give
I've said every word
To band aid that hurt
I've got scars that show
But they're just a reflection
Of who I used to be
I'm starting to look at life
with more positively
I'm starting to feel more secure
with who I am
I'm starting to feel happy within myself
that is something that has been
a long time coming
Now my world isn't crumbling
Before my eyes
Now I've seen hurt heal with time
I'm burying my past
Don't you dare allocate your allegations
It's time to move on
Time to look up
I'm tired of drowning in the sorrows
I'm tired of this smile I borrowed
I want to feel the warmth
Of happiness inside
I want that in my life
©2017 Written By Benji James
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Her naked body
Always turn you on!
Her soft skins prospected love shower
Not any hone!
Her hairs to prevent your time to go any park, forest such as garden!
Because once time you'd play it by your fingure,
That time those peace gives you so much pleasure!
Her forhead makes you craved for kiss
The time you should framed those moment scared to miss!
Yeah.
Every girls want such a seemly gaitey.
She's have a dark deep eye!
There'r only place for beautiful spy!
May be is perfect place to dive
Without any rive.
Trust me it's doesn't matter you knows swimming or not!
Her eyes is only satiety for you.
That,time you realised don't need find any kind of paradise!
Because her eyes perfectly allocate to rise.
May be you don't need any wet
Her lips's enough to comfort het.
Her naked neck make you hardly, feral love
And gives you pleasure around like long rove!
Her breast make you thirst!
Not only compress nor ****
This orgnan to help act excited hardly ****
Doesn't matter are she's have a
flat stomach or fat!!
She's the only one who'r able to cover inside
Your love! Within till 9 ******
Is really good pleasure through your penes!
She steed canvas on the ground,then rises like an acrobat!
Those steed deep dark and strong,
Sometimes plop-egg, drop-egg!
Earn kudos from the eartsy folk,
Be hip --- plucky 'lay an egg!
Every months how much she's suffered to ****** pain!
Only due to blood rain!
From hip to legs make you dabbler in *** activity!
her legs gives to indicate to make a fascinating moment.
Her legs like a ride
Which could not make your emotions hide!
Jzt **** out every parts!
Think 'bout tommorow uh'll have not this type of love kart!
Her barefoot on your foot
She treads softly!
Without any costly.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC