"applauses" poems - Hello Poetry

"applauses" poems

If I wrote a book, you will be my central character. Million copies later, I may write through your impeccable knowledge. If I wrote a poem, you will be in every word. A couple of views later, I may speak through your poetic silence. If I acted in a play, you will be my audience. A few applauses later, I may act out a monologue of glorious affection. Say hi, Say hello, Say no more, When words stop, I will understand, That we are where we need to be. If I met you in real life, you will be my soul mate. A few decades later, I may seek a second life with you. So, meet me now! :)

0

Nov 8, 2019

Nov 8, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC

Where have you been?

If I wrote a book, you will be my central character. Million copies later, I may write through your impeccable knowledge. If I wrote a poem, you will be in every word. A couple of views later, I may speak through your poetic silence. If I acted in a play, you will be my audience. A few applauses later, I may act out a monologue of glorious affection. Say hi, Say hello, Say no more, When words stop, I will understand, That we are where we need to be. If I met you in real life, you will be my soul mate. A few decades later, I may seek a second life with you. So, meet me now! :)

Continue reading...

Forth into the forest straightway All alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows, And the birds sang round him, o’er him, “Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!” Sang the robin, the Opechee, Sang the blue bird, the Owaissa, “Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!” Up the oak tree, close beside him, Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo, In and out among the branches, Coughed and chattered from the oak tree, Laughed, and said between his laughing, “Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!” And the rabbit from his pathway Leaped aside, and at a distance Sat ***** upon his haunches, Half in fear and half in frolic, Saying to the little hunter, “Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!” But he heeded not, nor heard them, For his thoughts were with the red deer; On their tracks his eyes were fastened, Leading downward to the river, To the ford across the river, And as one in slumber walked he, Hidden in the alder bushes. There he waited till the deer came, Till he saw two antlers lifted, Saw two eyes look from the thicket, Saw two nostrils point to windward, And a deer came down the pathway, Flecked with leafy light and shadow. And his heart within him fluttered, Trembled like the leaves above him, Like the birch-leaf palpitated, As the deer came down the pathway. Then, upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow; Scarce a twig moved with his motion, Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled, But the wary roebuck started, Stamped with all his hoofs together, Listened with one foot uplifted, Leaped as if to meet the arrow; Ah! the singing, fatal arrow, Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him! Dead he lay there in the forest, By the ford across the river; Beat his timid heart no longer, But the heart of Hiawatha Throbbed and shouted and exulted, As he bore the red deer homeward, And Iagoo and Nokomis Hailed his coming with applauses. From the red deer’s hide Nokomis Made a cloak for Hiawatha, From the red deer’s flesh Nokomis Made a banquet in his honor. All the village came and feasted, All the guests praised Hiawatha, Called him Strong-heart, Soan-ge-taha! Called him Loon-Heart, Mahn-go-taysee!

0

9.3k

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Hiawatha’s Hunting

Forth into the forest straightway All alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows, And the birds sang round him, o’er him, “Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!” Sang the robin, the Opechee, Sang the blue bird, the Owaissa, “Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!” Up the oak tree, close beside him, Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo, In and out among the branches, Coughed and chattered from the oak tree, Laughed, and said between his laughing, “Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!” And the rabbit from his pathway Leaped aside, and at a distance Sat ***** upon his haunches, Half in fear and half in frolic, Saying to the little hunter, “Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!” But he heeded not, nor heard them, For his thoughts were with the red deer; On their tracks his eyes were fastened, Leading downward to the river, To the ford across the river, And as one in slumber walked he, Hidden in the alder bushes. There he waited till the deer came, Till he saw two antlers lifted, Saw two eyes look from the thicket, Saw two nostrils point to windward, And a deer came down the pathway, Flecked with leafy light and shadow. And his heart within him fluttered, Trembled like the leaves above him, Like the birch-leaf palpitated, As the deer came down the pathway. Then, upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow; Scarce a twig moved with his motion, Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled, But the wary roebuck started, Stamped with all his hoofs together, Listened with one foot uplifted, Leaped as if to meet the arrow; Ah! the singing, fatal arrow, Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him! Dead he lay there in the forest, By the ford across the river; Beat his timid heart no longer, But the heart of Hiawatha Throbbed and shouted and exulted, As he bore the red deer homeward, And Iagoo and Nokomis Hailed his coming with applauses. From the red deer’s hide Nokomis Made a cloak for Hiawatha, From the red deer’s flesh Nokomis Made a banquet in his honor. All the village came and feasted, All the guests praised Hiawatha, Called him Strong-heart, Soan-ge-taha! Called him Loon-Heart, Mahn-go-taysee!

Continue reading...

The Eternal Journey He kept moving in haste with no pauses In his way, perhaps, eternal way That walked sans sorrows, no joy, no applauses To be remembered or to say To other walkers of that way Who moved without fear or being prey To the momentary residences they did stay! Alok Mishra

0

Oct 27, 2014

Oct 27, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC

poet-alok-mishra

The Eternal Journey

The Eternal Journey He kept moving in haste with no pauses In his way, perhaps, eternal way That walked sans sorrows, no joy, no applauses To be remembered or to say To other walkers of that way Who moved without fear or being prey To the momentary residences they did stay! Alok Mishra

Continue reading...

She represented freedom With her humble clothes her burning red hair, have i ever witnessed something so pure She smiled with her eyes closed as she danced just for herself She was not dependent on the crowd's applauses She only moved for the heart's desire and love of the folk music She had captured gazes, without a single look. The witness of her radiance gave hope, but she was oblivious to her affect on the people As with every valiant step she took, her subtle curls were tenderly shown affection by the cool breeze of the night She had known the woods better than anyone in the town As if she had not walked alone, which only made her light radiate ever so bright. She wore mud as her shoes and used the howling voices of dusk as her armor It makes you question; if the moon was created just for her eyes, they seemed to get brighter and shiny every la lluna plena.

0

Feb 6, 2018

Feb 6, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC

The Embodiment of Vitality

She represented freedom With her humble clothes her burning red hair, have i ever witnessed something so pure She smiled with her eyes closed as she danced just for herself She was not dependent on the crowd's applauses She only moved for the heart's desire and love of the folk music She had captured gazes, without a single look. The witness of her radiance gave hope, but she was oblivious to her affect on the people As with every valiant step she took, her subtle curls were tenderly shown affection by the cool breeze of the night She had known the woods better than anyone in the town As if she had not walked alone, which only made her light radiate ever so bright. She wore mud as her shoes and used the howling voices of dusk as her armor It makes you question; if the moon was created just for her eyes, they seemed to get brighter and shiny every la lluna plena.

Continue reading...

Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos. VIRGIL. Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov’d recollection Embitters the present, compar’d with the past; Where science first dawn’d on the powers of reflection, And friendships were form’d, too romantic to last; Where fancy, yet, joys to retrace the resemblance Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; How welcome to me your ne’er fading remembrance, Which rests in the ***** though hope is deny’d! Again I revisit the hills where we sported, The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought; The school where, loud warn’d by the bell, we resorted, To pore o’er the precepts by Pedagogues taught. Again I behold where for hours I have ponder’d, As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander’d, To catch the last gleam of the sun’s setting ray. I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded, Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o’erthrown; While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded, I fancied that Mossop himself was outshone. Or, as Lear, I pour’d forth the deep imprecation, By my daughters, of kingdom and reason depriv’d; Till, fir’d by loud plaudits and self-adulation, I regarded myself as a Garrick reviv’d. Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast; Though sad and deserted, I ne’er can forget you: Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest. To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me, While Fate shall the shades of the future unroll! Since Darkness o’ershadows the prospect before me, More dear is the beam of the past to my soul! But if, through the course of the years which await me, Some new scene of pleasure should open to view, I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, “Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew.”

0

1.7k

On A Distant View Of The Village And School Of Harrow On The Hill, 1806

Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos. VIRGIL. Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov’d recollection Embitters the present, compar’d with the past; Where science first dawn’d on the powers of reflection, And friendships were form’d, too romantic to last; Where fancy, yet, joys to retrace the resemblance Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; How welcome to me your ne’er fading remembrance, Which rests in the ***** though hope is deny’d! Again I revisit the hills where we sported, The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought; The school where, loud warn’d by the bell, we resorted, To pore o’er the precepts by Pedagogues taught. Again I behold where for hours I have ponder’d, As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander’d, To catch the last gleam of the sun’s setting ray. I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded, Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o’erthrown; While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded, I fancied that Mossop himself was outshone. Or, as Lear, I pour’d forth the deep imprecation, By my daughters, of kingdom and reason depriv’d; Till, fir’d by loud plaudits and self-adulation, I regarded myself as a Garrick reviv’d. Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast; Though sad and deserted, I ne’er can forget you: Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest. To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me, While Fate shall the shades of the future unroll! Since Darkness o’ershadows the prospect before me, More dear is the beam of the past to my soul! But if, through the course of the years which await me, Some new scene of pleasure should open to view, I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, “Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew.”

Continue reading...

sinking in tides that like the blue nights you spent smoking out dream after nightmare until they turned to ashes of shattered glass bottles that once held your dusty peace together only distracted you from the haze left behind from your speed boat of orange memories and endless applauses of accomplishments, you are not a failure just because the ink in your pen ran out of rhymes, you are a full solar system with planets to call your own, the ropes at each moon are yours to call home and no amount of broken silhouettes will track anyone to your tents of stocked up dried out flowers, even when your heart is being licked with cold flames of metals you still cant fail to pronounce with the back of your scorching tongue

0

Jul 11, 2015

Jul 11, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC

arrows through the sun

sinking in tides that like the blue nights you spent smoking out dream after nightmare until they turned to ashes of shattered glass bottles that once held your dusty peace together only distracted you from the haze left behind from your speed boat of orange memories and endless applauses of accomplishments, you are not a failure just because the ink in your pen ran out of rhymes, you are a full solar system with planets to call your own, the ropes at each moon are yours to call home and no amount of broken silhouettes will track anyone to your tents of stocked up dried out flowers, even when your heart is being licked with cold flames of metals you still cant fail to pronounce with the back of your scorching tongue

Continue reading...

she told me it would be okay. that everything would work out. that i could lay in summers green grass, gazing into the blue sky. she told me it would stay sunny, she didnt say fog would arise and clouds would start to cover. she told me it would help me thrive, give me wings and grow flowers. but when the wings grew they were broken. the flowers made me choke. i couldn't fly, i couldn't breathe. the sky was all grey and she told me to keep going, there would soon be blue. she would mend my broken wings with starvation and watching other people eat all the food i could not have. she told me the flowers choke me to control me. she was right. she rubbed my wings with all the oils i kept out of my diet and they did heal. but every time i would place food onto my tongue, or something other than diet drinks to flush my system, she would break my wings again and the grey would come back. she'd reach down my throat and cut the flowers with shears of fire. standing above me as i screech in pain. waving them at me, yelling, "look what you have forced me to do." so i walk with dead flowers and broken wings until i serve her again. then she shows me a chart of all the food i haven't eaten in that week and applauses me. i am tired. i am in ******* pain. but i am happy. she heals me once again. my flowers again choke me as they bloom, and i can fly. my wings, stained with blood and tainted with scars. I don't need food. she told me that food is my enemy and food will only cause a disturbance. but i am being sent away now and they are making me eat and ai am really unwell and doesn't she think that its about time? i put the food in my mouth and finish one hundred percent. she violently grabs my wings and pulls me to the ground. one by one she plucks the flowers, i feel for my wings, where are they? she told me, "don't you understand how much we have sacrificed?"

0

Mar 10, 2018

Mar 10, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC

she told me it would be okay. that everything would work out. that i could lay in summers green grass, gazing into the blue sky. she told me it would stay sunny, she didnt say fog would arise and clouds would start to cover. she told me it would help me thrive, give me wings and grow flowers. but when the wings grew they were broken. the flowers made me choke. i couldn't fly, i couldn't breathe. the sky was all grey and she told me to keep going, there would soon be blue. she would mend my broken wings with starvation and watching other people eat all the food i could not have. she told me the flowers choke me to control me. she was right. she rubbed my wings with all the oils i kept out of my diet and they did heal. but every time i would place food onto my tongue, or something other than diet drinks to flush my system, she would break my wings again and the grey would come back. she'd reach down my throat and cut the flowers with shears of fire. standing above me as i screech in pain. waving them at me, yelling, "look what you have forced me to do." so i walk with dead flowers and broken wings until i serve her again. then she shows me a chart of all the food i haven't eaten in that week and applauses me. i am tired. i am in ******* pain. but i am happy. she heals me once again. my flowers again choke me as they bloom, and i can fly. my wings, stained with blood and tainted with scars. I don't need food. she told me that food is my enemy and food will only cause a disturbance. but i am being sent away now and they are making me eat and ai am really unwell and doesn't she think that its about time? i put the food in my mouth and finish one hundred percent. she violently grabs my wings and pulls me to the ground. one by one she plucks the flowers, i feel for my wings, where are they? she told me, "don't you understand how much we have sacrificed?"

Continue reading...

Dimmed lights and soft leather sheen As voices fade to a murmur Music booms out from a panoramic screen As we are pulled into an electric adventure Popcorn spills onto worn out carpet ply And ice creams licks fill the silent pauses Then a mobile ring causes an angry outcry And the guilty party leaves, to quiet applauses Magically we are transported into imagined worlds Where Aliens live and spaceships fly solo We watch as the good and evil story unfolds The twists and turns as our hero fights his foe Then the end and our hero survives And we cheer and whoop at the final battle An evening of excitement in our everyday lives And we leave counting days to the sequel

0

Oct 28, 2018

Oct 28, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC

Dimmed lights and soft leather sheen As voices fade to a murmur Music booms out from a panoramic screen As we are pulled into an electric adventure Popcorn spills onto worn out carpet ply And ice creams licks fill the silent pauses Then a mobile ring causes an angry outcry And the guilty party leaves, to quiet applauses Magically we are transported into imagined worlds Where Aliens live and spaceships fly solo We watch as the good and evil story unfolds The twists and turns as our hero fights his foe Then the end and our hero survives And we cheer and whoop at the final battle An evening of excitement in our everyday lives And we leave counting days to the sequel

Continue reading...

Sitting there on the lap He claps when the audiences clap On him painted an aura of happiness A smile is permanently fixed on his face. Eyes forever stretched without a frown He plays to the gallery a perfect clown You may envy his easygoing ways Gathering laughter on all that he says, His widely open unblinking eyes That show faked emotions feigned surprise. You may like to have his rapturous nights Drawing applauses hogging limelight But you would have pity for him once you know He’s a talking doll in the ventriloquist’s show.

0

Jul 20, 2013

Jul 20, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC

pradip-chattopadhyay

Sitting there on the lap He claps when the audiences clap On him painted an aura of happiness A smile is permanently fixed on his face. Eyes forever stretched without a frown He plays to the gallery a perfect clown You may envy his easygoing ways Gathering laughter on all that he says, His widely open unblinking eyes That show faked emotions feigned surprise. You may like to have his rapturous nights Drawing applauses hogging limelight But you would have pity for him once you know He’s a talking doll in the ventriloquist’s show.

Continue reading...

"Poetic Commenting!" ABOUT.POEMING...REPLYING It's Awardingly, deliciously, famously, stunningly, breaking newsy, Absolutely, Jubilantly, happily enjoying reading, this caring saying, type thing.. thing I be reading. MY COMMENTING TYPE THING.. COMMENT FANTASTICS.. [email protected].. AND @2BE_ADORED BY SHARDAY3 NOT A WEB SITE..YIKES.. You gone need some wipes.. As I drizzle word writes. slobing, goosing, spicy types.. word condiments ahh yeah compliments.. #on poetic worded trays. Of sautéed covered portrays. You want more I know it. Deliciously shared blessings... Complimenting expressions. We read, we write we excite. Then comes the coated candy explosions.. Got Sum, Give some, need sum.. reap some. Appreciative funs. Some after reads of applauses, where we add to the collective plates. Telling the writers of his/her greats. And ahh that moved me yes.. Ahh I felt that yes,, Oh thats a--maz-zzing yes. You did yah thing,, word bling.. sadly amusing, happily oozing, sorting and telling, wow all kind of juicy wordings.. I'ma put some sauce in my complimenting. woot word cooking, sizzling starred shakes soothing and replying.. By s.a.m Sharday 2021 Much Work to be Done!

0

Feb 4, 2021

Feb 4, 2021 at 10:01 AM UTC

"Poetic Commenting!"

"Poetic Commenting!" ABOUT.POEMING...REPLYING It's Awardingly, deliciously, famously, stunningly, breaking newsy, Absolutely, Jubilantly, happily enjoying reading, this caring saying, type thing.. thing I be reading. MY COMMENTING TYPE THING.. COMMENT FANTASTICS.. [email protected].. AND @2BE_ADORED BY SHARDAY3 NOT A WEB SITE..YIKES.. You gone need some wipes.. As I drizzle word writes. slobing, goosing, spicy types.. word condiments ahh yeah compliments.. #on poetic worded trays. Of sautéed covered portrays. You want more I know it. Deliciously shared blessings... Complimenting expressions. We read, we write we excite. Then comes the coated candy explosions.. Got Sum, Give some, need sum.. reap some. Appreciative funs. Some after reads of applauses, where we add to the collective plates. Telling the writers of his/her greats. And ahh that moved me yes.. Ahh I felt that yes,, Oh thats a--maz-zzing yes. You did yah thing,, word bling.. sadly amusing, happily oozing, sorting and telling, wow all kind of juicy wordings.. I'ma put some sauce in my complimenting. woot word cooking, sizzling starred shakes soothing and replying.. By s.a.m Sharday 2021 Much Work to be Done!

Continue reading...

A poise possessed, in unfulfilling actuality, Longing for freedom, freedom from normality, Quelling every bit of counterfeit congeniality, A taste of reassurance, isolated from individuality. Driving this jalopy, a man dressed to nines, His undergarments ragged, camouflaged to blind, His teeth are pearly, though the pearliness grinds, A moment of glory, he has yet to find. Phony fads infesting fraudulent causes, He sits in silence, while sounding the applauses, A bittersweet flavor of momentary diapauses, Every year holds similarity, inevitably with menopauses. Commitments crumbling, chafing positivity, Vows are demolished, rebuilt with ****** proclivity, Reputations are finagled with selfless anonymity, As society lacks honest accountability. A shadow he’ll reside’n, distant from sight, While pleading for nobility and faithful delight, To remain a man and not out of spite, As a room filled with vultures ravage his might.

0

Sep 26, 2017

Sep 26, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC

saint_francis422

A poise possessed, in unfulfilling actuality, Longing for freedom, freedom from normality, Quelling every bit of counterfeit congeniality, A taste of reassurance, isolated from individuality. Driving this jalopy, a man dressed to nines, His undergarments ragged, camouflaged to blind, His teeth are pearly, though the pearliness grinds, A moment of glory, he has yet to find. Phony fads infesting fraudulent causes, He sits in silence, while sounding the applauses, A bittersweet flavor of momentary diapauses, Every year holds similarity, inevitably with menopauses. Commitments crumbling, chafing positivity, Vows are demolished, rebuilt with ****** proclivity, Reputations are finagled with selfless anonymity, As society lacks honest accountability. A shadow he’ll reside’n, distant from sight, While pleading for nobility and faithful delight, To remain a man and not out of spite, As a room filled with vultures ravage his might.

Continue reading...

Here is the thing darling, no matter how many cheer, The world remains an empty place. There’s an abrupt sound of palms hitting one another, But the moment is fleeting. The lights shut off. The curtains close. Applauses end.

0

Aug 5, 2019

Aug 5, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC

Three Cheers for Loneliness

Here is the thing darling, no matter how many cheer, The world remains an empty place. There’s an abrupt sound of palms hitting one another, But the moment is fleeting. The lights shut off. The curtains close. Applauses end.

Continue reading...

.*i've seen cover songs being overplayed: t.a.t.u., snake river conspiracy... of the smiths': how soon is now? mind you... do you feel that chernobyll itch? do you? i like this quote: the loudest applauses craft the most silent encores... who was it? i guess it must haven been me, if it wasn't me, then... we have a problem..... well thank you, the danes found out... the warsaw pact attempted to keep it hush hush.... i am: the sleeping diatribe*... such a spectacular disobedience to having fathomed the obedience to the last remaining iota of a purpose.... friend to boyo fiend, and the jargon buste (adjunct).... while toying with being enemy to the squish and the tentacle lover of lost & last concerns... serves you a: counter sushi masterpirece with a worth of herrigs.... to mind a counter with... you know how "god" abhors "original" sin.. what becomes "sin"? well... "unoriginality"... i too hate & abhor the platitude of plagiarism; i'm a blatant Evangelist at this point... i'd rather die... before i'm reborn... then again... i'd slso act like Jack Nicholson.... but then again my demands are worth are shutters squat... to mind... what becomes a Led Zeppelin "original" sin... tobacco shutters... taping-course: wet tobacco... not chewed, rather, smoked... whatever... people will never believe the victim... they will, when there's a dead body... otherwise... dead wise no war no death sold... apparently the dead are "wise" when there's no war.... then again... when war... the "wise" also claim: there are no casualties.... who needs them? no one can recognize them, anyway... mother death justice earth: who can blindly recognize either! the twin justice, that justifies encompassing both... the joy that originates from wet.... tobacco; i don't care who's to blame... all i care about is that... someone is actually claimed, as requested for being made to claim blame. now god, now no god, now the infantile man with a belief in a god, now a memorable now a seriously acclaimed man of concrete disbelief... that... pristine atheist... i too hold my claims to be of barren wastelands in order to have them be made for the worth of them being cherished.

0

Sep 18, 2018

Sep 18, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

.*i've seen cover songs being overplayed: t.a.t.u., snake river conspiracy... of the smiths': how soon is now? mind you... do you feel that chernobyll itch? do you? i like this quote: the loudest applauses craft the most silent encores... who was it? i guess it must haven been me, if it wasn't me, then... we have a problem..... well thank you, the danes found out... the warsaw pact attempted to keep it hush hush.... i am: the sleeping diatribe*... such a spectacular disobedience to having fathomed the obedience to the last remaining iota of a purpose.... friend to boyo fiend, and the jargon buste (adjunct).... while toying with being enemy to the squish and the tentacle lover of lost & last concerns... serves you a: counter sushi masterpirece with a worth of herrigs.... to mind a counter with... you know how "god" abhors "original" sin.. what becomes "sin"? well... "unoriginality"... i too hate & abhor the platitude of plagiarism; i'm a blatant Evangelist at this point... i'd rather die... before i'm reborn... then again... i'd slso act like Jack Nicholson.... but then again my demands are worth are shutters squat... to mind... what becomes a Led Zeppelin "original" sin... tobacco shutters... taping-course: wet tobacco... not chewed, rather, smoked... whatever... people will never believe the victim... they will, when there's a dead body... otherwise... dead wise no war no death sold... apparently the dead are "wise" when there's no war.... then again... when war... the "wise" also claim: there are no casualties.... who needs them? no one can recognize them, anyway... mother death justice earth: who can blindly recognize either! the twin justice, that justifies encompassing both... the joy that originates from wet.... tobacco; i don't care who's to blame... all i care about is that... someone is actually claimed, as requested for being made to claim blame. now god, now no god, now the infantile man with a belief in a god, now a memorable now a seriously acclaimed man of concrete disbelief... that... pristine atheist... i too hold my claims to be of barren wastelands in order to have them be made for the worth of them being cherished.

Continue reading...

Ah, the Entertainers! My special Peoples --> Helping to comfort Me with some Home Truths. How I love to relax And let you amuse me, Or teach me, or tell me, or show me What awesome skills you've developed. Like a rounded peg Driven into my frosted heart, I thaw out, refreshed; A brand new me, happy With my Lot; contented. My Life may be intense, But your Life enriches Not just me - everyone. My bestest applauses Friends and Conspirators.

0

Mar 8, 2014

Mar 8, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC

Myn Own Heart-Felters

Ah, the Entertainers! My special Peoples --> Helping to comfort Me with some Home Truths. How I love to relax And let you amuse me, Or teach me, or tell me, or show me What awesome skills you've developed. Like a rounded peg Driven into my frosted heart, I thaw out, refreshed; A brand new me, happy With my Lot; contented. My Life may be intense, But your Life enriches Not just me - everyone. My bestest applauses Friends and Conspirators.

Continue reading...

4 strings and a bow She turned all heads in a row Her smile on the chin rest And her hand did the rest Spotlight on her face Muted are the applauses Drum and guitar noises I can't count the glances 4 strings and a bow How would I let her know That with 4 strings and a bow She turned dark skies to a show

0

Jun 11, 2017

Jun 11, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC

Four Strings And A Bow

4 strings and a bow She turned all heads in a row Her smile on the chin rest And her hand did the rest Spotlight on her face Muted are the applauses Drum and guitar noises I can't count the glances 4 strings and a bow How would I let her know That with 4 strings and a bow She turned dark skies to a show

Continue reading...

a black quilt patched up with diamonds for stars looming above us, our feet effortlessly following through the steps even when we’re both bad at dancing you spin me around and pull me in for a dip all the while having your eyes trained on mine with the kind of emotion i can't quite decipher but i didn’t mind- in the back of my mind this could pass off as the one where i'm in a white dress and gold could be found on both of our ring fingers- the orchestra plays the song once more and when we finally finish off, there was even a smattering of applauses from the crowd the scene ending with us taking a bow -little did we know that we were dancing to our swan song

0

Jun 20, 2020

Jun 20, 2020 at 11:22 AM UTC

a black quilt patched up with diamonds for stars looming above us, our feet effortlessly following through the steps even when we’re both bad at dancing you spin me around and pull me in for a dip all the while having your eyes trained on mine with the kind of emotion i can't quite decipher but i didn’t mind- in the back of my mind this could pass off as the one where i'm in a white dress and gold could be found on both of our ring fingers- the orchestra plays the song once more and when we finally finish off, there was even a smattering of applauses from the crowd the scene ending with us taking a bow -little did we know that we were dancing to our swan song

Continue reading...

what will happen tomorrow or the day after? same all over the place. carrying rounds of lies. and getting tons of applauses??? this is no manifesto. this is a testimony of a serendipitous observer of a common hysteria. here in your arms lies the truth that you try to forget. we need no education not the one dumbing the minds. it fails to deliver the knowledge you seek but delivers the obsession with the systematic bias for the rest of your life.

0

Jan 15, 2018

Jan 15, 2018 at 4:14 PM UTC

on a pile of sh*t

what will happen tomorrow or the day after? same all over the place. carrying rounds of lies. and getting tons of applauses??? this is no manifesto. this is a testimony of a serendipitous observer of a common hysteria. here in your arms lies the truth that you try to forget. we need no education not the one dumbing the minds. it fails to deliver the knowledge you seek but delivers the obsession with the systematic bias for the rest of your life.

Continue reading...

I cant stop going back to all the things that i know wont work I forsake the lessons ive learned in the hopes that things will be different this time But it's always the same Drunk or high It won't help me remember how to fly Ive forgotten how to use my wings And how to use my voice to sing The melodies that used to pick me up and dance in my head have found their way to playing on the brighter stages with new friends Its all been lost to the passage of time and if this is all that ive got left i see no reason not to die Empty chrouses and a cacophony of silent applauses Vacant seats and dead vibrations in the air There will be no break for intermission This show goes on hold for no one With a decaying babckbeat for none to hear And a drowning melody that will flood your ears You will soon learn that theres no method to the madness Its just a pouring out of all the things that make up sadness

0

Mar 10, 2018

Mar 10, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC

I cant stop going back to all the things that i know wont work I forsake the lessons ive learned in the hopes that things will be different this time But it's always the same Drunk or high It won't help me remember how to fly Ive forgotten how to use my wings And how to use my voice to sing The melodies that used to pick me up and dance in my head have found their way to playing on the brighter stages with new friends Its all been lost to the passage of time and if this is all that ive got left i see no reason not to die Empty chrouses and a cacophony of silent applauses Vacant seats and dead vibrations in the air There will be no break for intermission This show goes on hold for no one With a decaying babckbeat for none to hear And a drowning melody that will flood your ears You will soon learn that theres no method to the madness Its just a pouring out of all the things that make up sadness

Continue reading...

Walking around I feel like there’s a spotlight on me. I’m in a play I didn’t addition for right on stage floor. But there’s no applauses Just silence The quite almost violent To the point of knocking me down with humiliation With relation That im not good enough With thought what if and it might With the victory and satisfaction just out of sight. runs my life Its stage manger The director In charge of background and more. Anxiety the play of my life

0

Oct 23, 2018

Oct 23, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC

Walking around I feel like there’s a spotlight on me. I’m in a play I didn’t addition for right on stage floor. But there’s no applauses Just silence The quite almost violent To the point of knocking me down with humiliation With relation That im not good enough With thought what if and it might With the victory and satisfaction just out of sight. runs my life Its stage manger The director In charge of background and more. Anxiety the play of my life

Continue reading...