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"aper" poems
You ask edme towrit eabou tyou andm ypenc ilcoul dnot wait tokiss thep aper with your nam e. \/ | | |
0
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 4:13 AM UTC
Write About Me
my loves, the many accumulated mn- eumonic responses play'd on future women. ideas based on the poiv- rottes of idealized affectation past. cesspools emptied by the horse-tanks with stelth in the night, but the- re couldn't be much stealth for a target reeking of **** and convalescence. sadness and that odor would hang heavy in the first cold rains of winter. transplanting thoughts, always transplanted emotions of subjugation. she was waiting for someone, this now past but once future poivrotte. feet to be knock'd from under, body to find lulling embrace. mind the levitat- ing affect. mind, the missing portion of our feint'd love. and   - I was always empty and     both sad and happy with a third-class train ride, at mon poivrottes' expense of mentality. we could used to lay together talk- king in adult tones through our child mouths. remembering to poc- ket fruit to retain our breakfast from freezing. speaking no truer words than those utter'd while embraced. words from the mou- ths of us children. truer words never could be counterfeit, never could be spoken without loss of conscience. Cezanne-dreams of color, Impressionist subconscious, j'adore mon poivrottes. feasting of mo- vement and staining all around with the strong cafe au lait. follow'd aper- itif, following digestifs, following back to lie. to flow words from our child mo- uths, we would walk paths through the woods in the Autumn twilight. the trees were sculptures having their leaves stripped bare. walking alongside, we walk'd ourselves down the same separate path.
0
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
021713
my loves, the many accumulated mn- eumonic responses play'd on future women. ideas based on the poiv- rottes of idealized affectation past. cesspools emptied by the horse-tanks with stelth in the night, but the- re couldn't be much stealth for a target reeking of **** and convalescence. sadness and that odor would hang heavy in the first cold rains of winter. transplanting thoughts, always transplanted emotions of subjugation. she was waiting for someone, this now past but once future poivrotte. feet to be knock'd from under, body to find lulling embrace. mind the levitat- ing affect. mind, the missing portion of our feint'd love. and   - I was always empty and     both sad and happy with a third-class train ride, at mon poivrottes' expense of mentality. we could used to lay together talk- king in adult tones through our child mouths. remembering to poc- ket fruit to retain our breakfast from freezing. speaking no truer words than those utter'd while embraced. words from the mou- ths of us children. truer words never could be counterfeit, never could be spoken without loss of conscience. Cezanne-dreams of color, Impressionist subconscious, j'adore mon poivrottes. feasting of mo- vement and staining all around with the strong cafe au lait. follow'd aper- itif, following digestifs, following back to lie. to flow words from our child mo- uths, we would walk paths through the woods in the Autumn twilight. the trees were sculptures having their leaves stripped bare. walking alongside, we walk'd ourselves down the same separate path.
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46
Yung di tayo magkakilala Tipong ngayon lang nagkita Yung kinakausap kita Na tila hangin ka lang pala Yung ngingitian mo ako Kahit alam **** malungkot ako Tatayo at malakas natatawa At sasabay ang patak ng aking mga luha Sabay aper sayo Tapos kakaway ka palayo Hahabulin kita At titigil ka bigla Ikay bibigkas ng malakas Bulong lang saakin an lakas Maglalakad tayo At di na muling magtatagpo
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Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
Tula #1
the words we wrote on our slitted pieces of paper wer e all lies and i hope that w hoever pulls our old batt ered notebo ok out of th e dusty ches t in the man or falling ap art that we r ulled with p aper hats an d painted na ils knows tha t our love wa sn't really me ant to be.
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Untitled
You inept **** Sunday driver flunky, ******* snake seeking shelter in the mongoose's belly- Because it's easier to bend over and take it Instead of ******* back the r(e)aper. You 9 to 5 yes-man, "No, that suit doesn't make you look fat" You say as you chew the cud; Thank you for the spit, And may I eat this bowl of your ********
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
Sunday Driver Flunky