"anthropomorphize" poems

are the vagrant weeds, there on earth spread like greedy ******** never appreciated. Dandelions , to me, are as gifted glorious, as any violet or rose. and, fro' to and believe just as an Orchids scent on Easter day. In Ecclesiastes , is told that mere breath, just living, is meaningless. everything just dies, all is meaningless. I write thereby, an autobiography, as if I were a **** germinated not pretty, fragrant vagabond, I analogize, anthropomorphize into a moth ugly, I try to be a Butterfly, flutter beautifully, colorful. But am I I am beautiful, anyway suffering, continuously burned in the fire.

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May 3, 2015

May 3, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC

wordvango

not in Genesis

are the vagrant weeds, there on earth spread like greedy ******** never appreciated. Dandelions , to me, are as gifted glorious, as any violet or rose. and, fro' to and believe just as an Orchids scent on Easter day. In Ecclesiastes , is told that mere breath, just living, is meaningless. everything just dies, all is meaningless. I write thereby, an autobiography, as if I were a **** germinated not pretty, fragrant vagabond, I analogize, anthropomorphize into a moth ugly, I try to be a Butterfly, flutter beautifully, colorful. But am I I am beautiful, anyway suffering, continuously burned in the fire.

23

Once a year, I'm reminded here on father's day, I have no father near. My father could not be farther. Actually, that's not true. He's in one of the Southern counties of England but it's distant enough to do. He has two sons that he chose to have and raise and support and endow with all those cultural allegiance mechanisms that I try to imagine somehow. Painted their rooms, changed their sheets throwing a ball and stuff, giving them a father that they can observe doing his worst, best or enough. I'm a secret secreting jealousy as a crime superfluous to needs watching all you parented people making pronouncements on your old Dad's deeds. Bitter, sour grapes and cynicism are the silent names that come, "Don't utter or mutter a single word of distain keep our game a zero sum. It's not our fault you had no dad there's no need to rain on our parade!" I know this poem is digging a hole but who got you your first ***** Which, I guess gives me license to continue to go on about the other problems that came When I was a kid, they talked of a god and "Father" was his name. As if it wasn't challenging enough there's a celestial, all-seeing eye. I found daily life to be complex as it was without attempting to anthropomorphize the sky. Intimidated, un-encouraged without a male adult to hide behind, I learned I was a ******* without belonging while mother ******* raised their own kind. But, I guess it's time to turn around face the future face-on with the rest I've two sons now, who know that they are wanted Glad I typed this crap off my chest. Sorry if I offended anyone with a dad Just wanted to put words to my own case, it was not written with any malice in mind just like your annual slap round my face. ...

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Jun 17, 2013

Jun 17, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC

adesluzky

Father's Day Daze

Once a year, I'm reminded here on father's day, I have no father near. My father could not be farther. Actually, that's not true. He's in one of the Southern counties of England but it's distant enough to do. He has two sons that he chose to have and raise and support and endow with all those cultural allegiance mechanisms that I try to imagine somehow. Painted their rooms, changed their sheets throwing a ball and stuff, giving them a father that they can observe doing his worst, best or enough. I'm a secret secreting jealousy as a crime superfluous to needs watching all you parented people making pronouncements on your old Dad's deeds. Bitter, sour grapes and cynicism are the silent names that come, "Don't utter or mutter a single word of distain keep our game a zero sum. It's not our fault you had no dad there's no need to rain on our parade!" I know this poem is digging a hole but who got you your first ***** Which, I guess gives me license to continue to go on about the other problems that came When I was a kid, they talked of a god and "Father" was his name. As if it wasn't challenging enough there's a celestial, all-seeing eye. I found daily life to be complex as it was without attempting to anthropomorphize the sky. Intimidated, un-encouraged without a male adult to hide behind, I learned I was a ******* without belonging while mother ******* raised their own kind. But, I guess it's time to turn around face the future face-on with the rest I've two sons now, who know that they are wanted Glad I typed this crap off my chest. Sorry if I offended anyone with a dad Just wanted to put words to my own case, it was not written with any malice in mind just like your annual slap round my face. ...

45

Come, come you avian darlings You hawks, gulls, wrens and turkey vulchers Lo! I have a sacred place Where mountains are made From unburnt debris longing to be ashes Come, come you airborne circlers Wafting up on heat streams unseen Your kin abide on Jealousy Lane Thinking you are satisfied. All your needs met Without having to scour the ground Those careless human benefactors, wry and grizzly Poking fun at the sight Of so many black shadows Flies in swarms Gnats attacking the pitcher’s mound in August in the swamp Bees. Caressing the Queen. Delicate, Loving, Caring How can we not anthropomorphize the cackle, They arise out of curiosity And stay out of satiation When do the bats revivify the seeds of waste? Why are there no jackals? Who built the fence? That glorious victory mound Miccosukee burial ground Green seeded with local grasses Humbled with railroad trances We, your dancing gymnopedies Bow down. Constant motion In your service Thank the wasteful trash purveyors, May the dump rise high!

0

Mar 3, 2018

Mar 3, 2018 at 4:35 AM UTC

mike-2

Garbage Dump, Bird Sanctuary

Come, come you avian darlings You hawks, gulls, wrens and turkey vulchers Lo! I have a sacred place Where mountains are made From unburnt debris longing to be ashes Come, come you airborne circlers Wafting up on heat streams unseen Your kin abide on Jealousy Lane Thinking you are satisfied. All your needs met Without having to scour the ground Those careless human benefactors, wry and grizzly Poking fun at the sight Of so many black shadows Flies in swarms Gnats attacking the pitcher’s mound in August in the swamp Bees. Caressing the Queen. Delicate, Loving, Caring How can we not anthropomorphize the cackle, They arise out of curiosity And stay out of satiation When do the bats revivify the seeds of waste? Why are there no jackals? Who built the fence? That glorious victory mound Miccosukee burial ground Green seeded with local grasses Humbled with railroad trances We, your dancing gymnopedies Bow down. Constant motion In your service Thank the wasteful trash purveyors, May the dump rise high!

32

one day there won't be an edge kids just a hole in the ground for the suicidal do a bacteria count of your spring water while tossing down a few useless conventions why do anachronisms live so long die so hard and cause no embarrassment he mused musing had become his compulsion since the holy ghost serpent handling incident their medicine man pronounced him dead 7 times his own ancestors sent crows to peck out his eyes the fortune cookie antidote worked off and on then hell ascended under his smoking feet their vanguard toes now on fire one thing is sure in the lust for truth contemplation will not buy you serenity but yes your life can be lived without a prison cell oath of allegiance if the universe demonstrates intention we’re it the battle between sequence and simultaneity may be good for another 10 squared generations in this hypnotist hunch monger demolition derby where a legendary and enormous ignorance complicates matters for no apparent reason well maybe for the following reason all explanations have been oversimplified in a panorama of benign efficiency arise you yuppies and management level trainees you have all the tools of cognition you will ever need right in your head every act begins with an estimate let's put Humpty back together again feel relevant that's all there is to it since a monopoly on endless pleasure is yet to be fully achieved and moreover the Great War in Heaven is officially boring and furthermore the iris is a sphincter just thought you'd like to know sorry a lung obstruction makes my voice whistle one ******* homophone after another making the undead radar in on me my wings have been clipped so many times they fall off at the sound of grinding teeth thanks to the dogs of innuendo and pantomime we anthropomorphize absolutely everything no beanstalks on the horizon he noted just a marsupial orphan with an Aladdin's lamp charmed into the gesticulating arms of Venus by the secret patty cake handshake then a magic thing happened there is no magic only unknowing

0

Apr 9, 2020

Apr 9, 2020 at 4:01 PM UTC

walteralter

No Edge

one day there won't be an edge kids just a hole in the ground for the suicidal do a bacteria count of your spring water while tossing down a few useless conventions why do anachronisms live so long die so hard and cause no embarrassment he mused musing had become his compulsion since the holy ghost serpent handling incident their medicine man pronounced him dead 7 times his own ancestors sent crows to peck out his eyes the fortune cookie antidote worked off and on then hell ascended under his smoking feet their vanguard toes now on fire one thing is sure in the lust for truth contemplation will not buy you serenity but yes your life can be lived without a prison cell oath of allegiance if the universe demonstrates intention we’re it the battle between sequence and simultaneity may be good for another 10 squared generations in this hypnotist hunch monger demolition derby where a legendary and enormous ignorance complicates matters for no apparent reason well maybe for the following reason all explanations have been oversimplified in a panorama of benign efficiency arise you yuppies and management level trainees you have all the tools of cognition you will ever need right in your head every act begins with an estimate let's put Humpty back together again feel relevant that's all there is to it since a monopoly on endless pleasure is yet to be fully achieved and moreover the Great War in Heaven is officially boring and furthermore the iris is a sphincter just thought you'd like to know sorry a lung obstruction makes my voice whistle one ******* homophone after another making the undead radar in on me my wings have been clipped so many times they fall off at the sound of grinding teeth thanks to the dogs of innuendo and pantomime we anthropomorphize absolutely everything no beanstalks on the horizon he noted just a marsupial orphan with an Aladdin's lamp charmed into the gesticulating arms of Venus by the secret patty cake handshake then a magic thing happened there is no magic only unknowing

51

Generating a ring of bright waters, which currently meanders, ponders, and then streams - twitch ching reflexively as flora and fauna lap rich text chard liquid timelessly streaming, rippling, and quivering pitch sure risk gully confidently babbling, bobbing, bubbling, burbling loch a king dominating his rill small niche wade ding in the wings, one doth espy, (sans oxbow lake) analogous to an err river rent sea sunned bay sic wide whirled, whetted, webbed itch perhaps berthed as a ******* creek, and/or survivor of a **** ling, which ordinary happenstance attempts to anthropomorphize life giving resource hitch ching various synonyms for water, where sustenance to biosphere can become flushed out vis a vis via an ecological glitch which dry dystopian scenario, within the realm of human activities circumstance leaving most animals plants awash bay sic lee lurching, gasping, and choking within an immense oceanic ditch availing an alien landscape awash with post apocalyptic desiccated global cribbage match, where the losing hand would be a real ***** thus summarily, punctiliously, and merrily describes the edifying whirlpool life sike **** where countless marine species will flounder (literally like a fish out of water) viz deadened ghyll.

0

Jul 19, 2018

Jul 19, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Donny Brook Doth Runnel Along

Generating a ring of bright waters, which currently meanders, ponders, and then streams - twitch ching reflexively as flora and fauna lap rich text chard liquid timelessly streaming, rippling, and quivering pitch sure risk gully confidently babbling, bobbing, bubbling, burbling loch a king dominating his rill small niche wade ding in the wings, one doth espy, (sans oxbow lake) analogous to an err river rent sea sunned bay sic wide whirled, whetted, webbed itch perhaps berthed as a ******* creek, and/or survivor of a **** ling, which ordinary happenstance attempts to anthropomorphize life giving resource hitch ching various synonyms for water, where sustenance to biosphere can become flushed out vis a vis via an ecological glitch which dry dystopian scenario, within the realm of human activities circumstance leaving most animals plants awash bay sic lee lurching, gasping, and choking within an immense oceanic ditch availing an alien landscape awash with post apocalyptic desiccated global cribbage match, where the losing hand would be a real ***** thus summarily, punctiliously, and merrily describes the edifying whirlpool life sike **** where countless marine species will flounder (literally like a fish out of water) viz deadened ghyll.

46