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"bac" poems
my subject, mrs. ((brown?)) for this speech is going to be: obesity. ish. you see I remember the article you handed out to us, loos-leafed, fresh-pressed, a dry white piece that told, in simplest terms, the most inarguable & bland facts about !healthy eating & !weight loss! but mrs ((whatever)), I want to tell n and the entire ******* crisp class, that obesity is a load of steaming **** from someone who’s really fucki ng sick (you know how much better it stinks then) that obesity was made to be glorified, I don’t tell you this— I ****** jiggle it to you, grab my santa clause puch and shove it at you-- tick tock we wait for the clock to tell us what s to come, except it makes us guess --see this: a mid-age woman, mother, fat & previously fat, goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or chronic diarrhea, seeing stars & no energy left. ((this happens)) the doctor says, well let’s weigh you n see if you’ve lost the weight I told you to lose before remember Sharol now Sharol..,,,, sweety….. you weigh 55.62 lbs over the state-set “healthy limit”k, so we’re just gonna give u these diet pills & I promise they work,. all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that waterweight ******** [! excuse my language] and in about 3 months you’ll lose half that overweight, and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll feel right tip top okay now that’ll be $60 & come bac k in a month to tell me how much you’ve lost okay haha but that’s alrightright? she was unhealthy & doctors make you healthy only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon cancer or literally anything other obesity kills her in about 3 months bc the **** doctor would only pretend that she cared what was wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,, im sharol and so are you and so is your uncle & so is your mother, probably because most of us are “obese” & the only cure for obesity is the cure for the term “obesity” you see
0
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Obesity
my subject, mrs. ((brown?)) for this speech is going to be: obesity. ish. you see I remember the article you handed out to us, loos-leafed, fresh-pressed, a dry white piece that told, in simplest terms, the most inarguable & bland facts about !healthy eating & !weight loss! but mrs ((whatever)), I want to tell n and the entire ******* crisp class, that obesity is a load of steaming **** from someone who’s really fucki ng sick (you know how much better it stinks then) that obesity was made to be glorified, I don’t tell you this— I ****** jiggle it to you, grab my santa clause puch and shove it at you-- tick tock we wait for the clock to tell us what s to come, except it makes us guess --see this: a mid-age woman, mother, fat & previously fat, goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or chronic diarrhea, seeing stars & no energy left. ((this happens)) the doctor says, well let’s weigh you n see if you’ve lost the weight I told you to lose before remember Sharol now Sharol..,,,, sweety….. you weigh 55.62 lbs over the state-set “healthy limit”k, so we’re just gonna give u these diet pills & I promise they work,. all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that waterweight ******** [! excuse my language] and in about 3 months you’ll lose half that overweight, and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll feel right tip top okay now that’ll be $60 & come bac k in a month to tell me how much you’ve lost okay haha but that’s alrightright? she was unhealthy & doctors make you healthy only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon cancer or literally anything other obesity kills her in about 3 months bc the **** doctor would only pretend that she cared what was wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,, im sharol and so are you and so is your uncle & so is your mother, probably because most of us are “obese” & the only cure for obesity is the cure for the term “obesity” you see
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74
I look up at you in a crowded room and notice you're looking at me. You quickly look away and I quickly write off the situation as an accident. I'm never the right one, why is now any different. I'll tell myself I don't have a chance. My heart gets buried in a fake smile and fake laugh. Play it cool you cool mother ****** Truth is, I need this shot. I take a shot to take a shot at you. A cheap trick. What is love drunk? Am I love drunk? Is that what love drunk is? I could get drunk off you...I mean, I'm around you and all of a sudden I feel sick to my stomach, laced with butterflies and the next morning I'll wake up and regret taking too much of you...especially because now you're gone. The thrill from last night is now a love hangover and you are simply last night. and my expensive taste in fine wine will be the death of me. Only the best will do for this selfish conceded alcoholic. Red wine that matches your red lipstick. BAC is way too high. I'm drunk off you, your lips to mine. I can't drive. I'll have to stay tonight. I'll slur words because I don't know what to say to you. I miss you when you're not here. My body shakes and shivers and I want you around. I'll lie to myself and say I'm not going to think about you, and I won't text you and I won't tell you how I feel and I'll feel terrible about it and I'll want you around and I'll type out a message explaining everything and I'll just hope and pray my fingers are too cold from winter's crisp air and I hope they slip and accidentally hit the "send" button before I can delete the message... But that never happens...So I'll take another shot of you and hope I don't get wasted again.
0
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
Love Drunk.
I look up at you in a crowded room and notice you're looking at me. You quickly look away and I quickly write off the situation as an accident. I'm never the right one, why is now any different. I'll tell myself I don't have a chance. My heart gets buried in a fake smile and fake laugh. Play it cool you cool mother ****** Truth is, I need this shot. I take a shot to take a shot at you. A cheap trick. What is love drunk? Am I love drunk? Is that what love drunk is? I could get drunk off you...I mean, I'm around you and all of a sudden I feel sick to my stomach, laced with butterflies and the next morning I'll wake up and regret taking too much of you...especially because now you're gone. The thrill from last night is now a love hangover and you are simply last night. and my expensive taste in fine wine will be the death of me. Only the best will do for this selfish conceded alcoholic. Red wine that matches your red lipstick. BAC is way too high. I'm drunk off you, your lips to mine. I can't drive. I'll have to stay tonight. I'll slur words because I don't know what to say to you. I miss you when you're not here. My body shakes and shivers and I want you around. I'll lie to myself and say I'm not going to think about you, and I won't text you and I won't tell you how I feel and I'll feel terrible about it and I'll want you around and I'll type out a message explaining everything and I'll just hope and pray my fingers are too cold from winter's crisp air and I hope they slip and accidentally hit the "send" button before I can delete the message... But that never happens...So I'll take another shot of you and hope I don't get wasted again.
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14
Early days as a flaneur; I recall the couple On the Metro When I was still innocent Of its labyrinthine complexities; Slim pretty white girl, Clad head to toe In new blue denim, Wistfully smiling While her muscular black beau Stared straight through me With fathomless, fulgorous orbs; And one of them spoke (Almost in a whisper): "Qu'est-ce que t'en pense?" Then it dawned on me... The slender young Parisienne With the distant desirous eyes Was no less male than I. Being screamed at in Pigalle, And then howled at again By some kind of wild-eyed Drifter who told me to go To the Bois de Boulogne to seek What he clearly saw as my destiny; Getting ****** in Les Halles With Sara Who'd just seen Dillon as Rusty James, And was walking around in a daze; Sara again with Jade At the Caveau de la Huchette. Cash squandered On a cheap gold-plated toothbrush, Portrait sketched at the Place du Tertre, Paperback books By Symbolist poets, Second hand volumes By Trakl and Deleve, And a leather jacket from The flea market At the Porte de Clignancourt. Metro taken to Montparnasse, Where I slowly sipped A demi blonde In one of those brasseries (Perhaps) Immortalised by Brassai; Bewhiskered old man In a naval officer's cap, His table bestrewn With empty wine bottles And cigarette butts, Repeatedly screeched the name "Phillippe!" until a bartender With patent leather hair, Filled his wineglass to the brim, With a mock-obsequious: "Voila, mon Captaine!" I cut into the Rue du Bac, Traversed the Pont Royal, Briefly beheld Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, With its gothic tower, Constructed only latterly, In order that The 6th Century church Might complement The style of the remainder Of the 1er Arrondissement, Before steering for the Place du Chatelet, And onwards...Les Halles!
0
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
Tales of a Paris Flaneur
Early days as a flaneur; I recall the couple On the Metro When I was still innocent Of its labyrinthine complexities; Slim pretty white girl, Clad head to toe In new blue denim, Wistfully smiling While her muscular black beau Stared straight through me With fathomless, fulgorous orbs; And one of them spoke (Almost in a whisper): "Qu'est-ce que t'en pense?" Then it dawned on me... The slender young Parisienne With the distant desirous eyes Was no less male than I. Being screamed at in Pigalle, And then howled at again By some kind of wild-eyed Drifter who told me to go To the Bois de Boulogne to seek What he clearly saw as my destiny; Getting ****** in Les Halles With Sara Who'd just seen Dillon as Rusty James, And was walking around in a daze; Sara again with Jade At the Caveau de la Huchette. Cash squandered On a cheap gold-plated toothbrush, Portrait sketched at the Place du Tertre, Paperback books By Symbolist poets, Second hand volumes By Trakl and Deleve, And a leather jacket from The flea market At the Porte de Clignancourt. Metro taken to Montparnasse, Where I slowly sipped A demi blonde In one of those brasseries (Perhaps) Immortalised by Brassai; Bewhiskered old man In a naval officer's cap, His table bestrewn With empty wine bottles And cigarette butts, Repeatedly screeched the name "Phillippe!" until a bartender With patent leather hair, Filled his wineglass to the brim, With a mock-obsequious: "Voila, mon Captaine!" I cut into the Rue du Bac, Traversed the Pont Royal, Briefly beheld Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, With its gothic tower, Constructed only latterly, In order that The 6th Century church Might complement The style of the remainder Of the 1er Arrondissement, Before steering for the Place du Chatelet, And onwards...Les Halles!
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76
Man i miss my bro.... I remeber wen we was kids and all the crazy **** did. we kept secrets from momma ..kept each other from gettn whoopns and much more drama. and nw u in jail and i know i sho miss u like hell..man i miss ur crazy sayns like (dis shxt is a terrible discrimination). bt hey u give me the motovation to stay here wit momma and nt make so much truma. and to go to school so i can get my diploma.. man bro i need u out here.. life is crazy and im holdn bac my tears.. tryn to stay strong and keep myself from doin wrong.. even doe i feel im alone in this piece.. momma might have cancer and i know my heart is decease. my eyes burn everyday so i try to turn to God and pray.. i feel like he nt hearn me becz stuff is nt cumn to me so easily... i mean i dnt thnk life jus *** so brezzy bt its like things nt gettn bettr bt turn for the worst.. wen i think of strong people u *** up first.. i miss u bro and love u.. and momma the only one who stepps above u.. u nt far behind. u r really next on my heart line. i wish i can show u that me and momma nt blind and we knw u care and love for us to... its a little hard to show it from you.. ha u know dats true.. :) lil Sis
0
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Man I miss my Bro
Stage One begins the fun; First sips reveal the bitter Blast of hops and alcohol. BAC is point oh-three, which reads as "Confident & Daring." Attention Span and Flesh are flushed In dual ways, (Please catch my drift. Euphoric people, still May have a need for shrift.) Sometimes such things are said or done That later are not wished. Judgment begins to slide On entry of Stage Two. A numbness in the tongue, A blurring of the eyes, Which do not yet see two. Sometimes as low as point oh-nine BAC, "Excitement" names the awkward teetering Between slow thought and sleepiness. Stumbled response takes coordination, But the drinker cannot see his weaviness. Stage Three arrives at point one-eight And takes the name "Confusion." Staggered is the walk, and one can sit And feel the moving of the world. The maudlin lover here appears, Replaced by jealous hate that burns Or bursts in untoward rage that disappears In an instant's instant, only to return. Stage Four is Cousin Stupor, Threshhold BAC is point two-five. The drinker turns into a Turtle, Unmoving, Unaware, but still alive, He cannot stand nor walk, May drown upon his ***** And if he lies, should do so on his side, Though he cannot without assistance From a brother or a bride. Stage Five, Fra Coma, may start at point three-five, Cool skin, slow breath, heart beat, (just barely), Asleep he may appear, or dead, As Death stands near. Stage Six occurs at BAC point five, Bar Tender Death moves on To find someone Alive.
0
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC
Lager Rhythms
Stage One begins the fun; First sips reveal the bitter Blast of hops and alcohol. BAC is point oh-three, which reads as "Confident & Daring." Attention Span and Flesh are flushed In dual ways, (Please catch my drift. Euphoric people, still May have a need for shrift.) Sometimes such things are said or done That later are not wished. Judgment begins to slide On entry of Stage Two. A numbness in the tongue, A blurring of the eyes, Which do not yet see two. Sometimes as low as point oh-nine BAC, "Excitement" names the awkward teetering Between slow thought and sleepiness. Stumbled response takes coordination, But the drinker cannot see his weaviness. Stage Three arrives at point one-eight And takes the name "Confusion." Staggered is the walk, and one can sit And feel the moving of the world. The maudlin lover here appears, Replaced by jealous hate that burns Or bursts in untoward rage that disappears In an instant's instant, only to return. Stage Four is Cousin Stupor, Threshhold BAC is point two-five. The drinker turns into a Turtle, Unmoving, Unaware, but still alive, He cannot stand nor walk, May drown upon his ***** And if he lies, should do so on his side, Though he cannot without assistance From a brother or a bride. Stage Five, Fra Coma, may start at point three-five, Cool skin, slow breath, heart beat, (just barely), Asleep he may appear, or dead, As Death stands near. Stage Six occurs at BAC point five, Bar Tender Death moves on To find someone Alive.
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47
I will be drunk in a few minutes. It's only noon. Just the perfect time to throw Everything up And out the window again. The river of blood From my thighs to the tile Runs a mere .13% BAC.
0
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
*** Chata
high school days I won't forget all that nights I do regret spent that time on tasks and tests Ignoring all my cousins and friends A teacher says tomorrow another says today one more exam won't hurt a way they teach us what to be learnt but in these subjects you will never concentrate Biology postulates with some blood circulates plus a little concentrate never knew the simulates stimulants , depressents both are drugs components they increase BAC and i know my ABC A doctor , I say? oh no the other day Chemistry is full of laws with some words I don't know ''Semipenmeable membrance'' haven't i told you so? chemistry scientist oh god no !! i will pass please go on high school days passes like slugs on a traffic way sounds not good geology makes me regret about all that time I spent In one two pages my time split just to know some folds and fualts let me tell you about salt domes they go over those rocky domes but for me I don't care because my hat is over my hair Deformation, am not so glad don't want to know more than that Mathematic equations flips my head with rates of change I am depressed but in limits I insist about the sandwich theorem I am impressed tangent lines look so good let's me know the slop, oh good but an engineer not that good..... let me know if you found my job high school days passes like hell working all day cramming all night will my work finally pay off all that days on tasks and tests high school days I don't know if it's one last step or one more slip ?!
0
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
'One last step, or one more slip ''
high school days I won't forget all that nights I do regret spent that time on tasks and tests Ignoring all my cousins and friends A teacher says tomorrow another says today one more exam won't hurt a way they teach us what to be learnt but in these subjects you will never concentrate Biology postulates with some blood circulates plus a little concentrate never knew the simulates stimulants , depressents both are drugs components they increase BAC and i know my ABC A doctor , I say? oh no the other day Chemistry is full of laws with some words I don't know ''Semipenmeable membrance'' haven't i told you so? chemistry scientist oh god no !! i will pass please go on high school days passes like slugs on a traffic way sounds not good geology makes me regret about all that time I spent In one two pages my time split just to know some folds and fualts let me tell you about salt domes they go over those rocky domes but for me I don't care because my hat is over my hair Deformation, am not so glad don't want to know more than that Mathematic equations flips my head with rates of change I am depressed but in limits I insist about the sandwich theorem I am impressed tangent lines look so good let's me know the slop, oh good but an engineer not that good..... let me know if you found my job high school days passes like hell working all day cramming all night will my work finally pay off all that days on tasks and tests high school days I don't know if it's one last step or one more slip ?!
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77
i'll die of a bottle cut my neck lays, drips Waiting for re sus citation Wanting rec i pro city   tickle down monopoly Aye diabolical necklace ripped Watershed light on Plateau Vistas Wishful thinking washed up beached whales Supernovas pangyrize death seen shaded in roses. i dye bottle called negl i gents Water wars UN nest estuary When pet roll eaves seed li n e wall its cash flow exsiccate ration al If i could fold lyricigami tighter you could read or di gest and your actions would still gather dust on the shelf of apathy You would kick coke bottles filled with hot air and promises on the sahara ocean shore and wonder why waves didn't clean the sand off your feet. Take your hands off the wall its time you can't by and by demarcation in between life in blood air in water put oil in sea what seed grows money what Sun loves Farther away to love Slaughter Earth mother dawn gone man i p u late den der her thirst is everything a mess age nad e bac le
0
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
message in a bottle
I love it when someone’s thrown into the scene Like a motorcyclist hitting a woman picking up her children from school And before she can **** her head back to ask How was school or What did you learn today There’s a helmet crashing through the windshield at 70 mph Then the swerves and the tire tracks And the screams and the noise Everyone get up Brush yourself off And ask if everyone’s alright But the motorcyclist is pronounced dead on the scene BAC 0.22 And the mother will have to take counseling Where she’ll start an affair with her shrink To escape the boredom of suburban life And the kids will think it’s cool but won’t realize The whole affair will inspire one to write Award winning novels And drive the other into an early suicide When someone’s caught off guard like that I can’t help but to smile at The helplessness and the look on their face It’s the eyes The same kind of look the mother has when her Husband comes home early only to find her Riding Dr. So-and-so in the same bed her Two boys were conceived Later the dad will say to his boys It’s not your fault And one will cry like a little girl And the other will call his brother a little girl Though in the middle of the night He will wear the same face his mother wore When she cocked her head back and saw The man wearing the half undone tie she bought two Christmases ago This man is in fact the keeper of some nuptial vows She can still recite to this day Expressive redux when she does a double take And stares at the wedding ring on the hand Still clutching the doorknob We embrace order and schedules But we need that spontaneity That spark That everlasting feeling that We aren’t just cosmic specks against A grumpy god Deep down we all have that felling somewhere That sense of small The feeling the brother gets as he Dots his i’s and crosses his t’s On the suicide letter But even deeper is the tickle in the back of the skull Felt right before the rope or belt or Christmas lights or electrical chord Goes taut The feeling he is wrong and with it floods the realization Of meaning in the absence of a reset button
0
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
An American Portrait
I love it when someone’s thrown into the scene Like a motorcyclist hitting a woman picking up her children from school And before she can **** her head back to ask How was school or What did you learn today There’s a helmet crashing through the windshield at 70 mph Then the swerves and the tire tracks And the screams and the noise Everyone get up Brush yourself off And ask if everyone’s alright But the motorcyclist is pronounced dead on the scene BAC 0.22 And the mother will have to take counseling Where she’ll start an affair with her shrink To escape the boredom of suburban life And the kids will think it’s cool but won’t realize The whole affair will inspire one to write Award winning novels And drive the other into an early suicide When someone’s caught off guard like that I can’t help but to smile at The helplessness and the look on their face It’s the eyes The same kind of look the mother has when her Husband comes home early only to find her Riding Dr. So-and-so in the same bed her Two boys were conceived Later the dad will say to his boys It’s not your fault And one will cry like a little girl And the other will call his brother a little girl Though in the middle of the night He will wear the same face his mother wore When she cocked her head back and saw The man wearing the half undone tie she bought two Christmases ago This man is in fact the keeper of some nuptial vows She can still recite to this day Expressive redux when she does a double take And stares at the wedding ring on the hand Still clutching the doorknob We embrace order and schedules But we need that spontaneity That spark That everlasting feeling that We aren’t just cosmic specks against A grumpy god Deep down we all have that felling somewhere That sense of small The feeling the brother gets as he Dots his i’s and crosses his t’s On the suicide letter But even deeper is the tickle in the back of the skull Felt right before the rope or belt or Christmas lights or electrical chord Goes taut The feeling he is wrong and with it floods the realization Of meaning in the absence of a reset button
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57
Qu'est-ce que vous êtes, Je vois vos yeux, Dans le nuit. Mon seul ami. Ma belle copine, Vous êtes ma vie. La poesie de mes contanporaires. M'inspire. Je le respire, Je lire, ça me tue. C'est ma vie.
0
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Le bac
Said he couldn't take advantage because his BAC wasn't quite as sky high respectable a gentleman I presume assume he doesn't care today one way or the other how things turned out or didn't can't blame him; many people in the world, each is just one more holding them back from the others.
0
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
A Missile Can Be Quite Beautiful
That being said we give as good as we get don't stop at neon red hands nothing but green go men across clay and goshen behind the Siegel center Don't go to was with rams a play pen ain't just for the kid we need playpens for grown men so I play with my pen while I wait for my beer to get here Don't point fingers at me I cut looser than amateur directors I cut looser than sad teenagers never reaching the veins or arteries with a BAC over 9000 I grew up on the internet but tonight I throw up in your bathroom and thank you for keeping the towels laundered cheers for tonight may tomorrow never come
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
Yet always have a place to hang their hats
I wonder who these bosses think they are, bossying me around like some kind of slave. Tea at 8,tea at 10,tea in between every break. Do they know the fatigue from the stairs? I sincerely doubt, not with their password controlled elevators. The other day one of those big men amused me. Mbu tell me Celia, why do u charge the same price even for people who take no sugar. I barely held bac insults and instead said, now if I were to charge according to how much sugar you take, I would charge those that take the price of quarter a kilo since I neither buy in spoons nor cups. And then for you that don't take sugar I would charge for the fuel used to boil the water. hmph, men!!
0
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Rantings of a tea girl
I wonder, If you're still drowning your blood In alcohol.
0
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
BAC. (10W)
#THROWBACK to when my mom went out to drink with some friends and then got into a DWI accident that killed her. BAC over 200% the normal amount. I would like to thank not only my dad for cheating on her but also my two older sisters for leaving me alone with her.
0
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
Untitled
we'll do it . BAC twenty-fifteen You're which we're gonna beat Yes we could Even we should Isn't that understood I think it's so cool You are coming And we are fighting Flying,feeling And also swimming In our dreams Wanna exchange it, to reality Without stop, without even pity Yeah we have to fix it To hurry and do it 'cause we've our special dynamite I mean our clever minds Which are dynamic So, we do not worry We don't panic This is our lorry And no one can drive it Am Inot right ? In all what I said We all wanna fight By our smart heads And now with the advices Or we say the rules Which might not be understood By a lot of fools Nothing to play No time for fun This is a closed place No way to run Do not be shy We don't wanna someone cry In the final day In the real place Where everyone have to brave It's just five days We must care But we mustn't be scared We have to revise Without fears, without horrors Just open your eyes And pray for your lord Obey your mother And also your father They will stay Besides you together Believe them forever Whatever, and however They always pray for you A lot, not just a few The same with your teacher Do not be a cheater 'cause you're deceiving yourself Check your real note To see either you are In need of help Or you are In the straight road Eat a healthy food It will help you To revise good Now is everything understood I am praying Allah always with us I am seeking His merciful for us Dear GOD Please forgive all what We have done No matter what little or strong Was our faults Dear GOD Help us, especially this year Please, please yearn Us when we gonna be tested And also that day when the results will be announced because in ourselves we all have faith dear GOD please, do not upset our hope we wanna feel cool when we'll return home after seeing our results in school
0
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
BAC 2015
we'll do it . BAC twenty-fifteen You're which we're gonna beat Yes we could Even we should Isn't that understood I think it's so cool You are coming And we are fighting Flying,feeling And also swimming In our dreams Wanna exchange it, to reality Without stop, without even pity Yeah we have to fix it To hurry and do it 'cause we've our special dynamite I mean our clever minds Which are dynamic So, we do not worry We don't panic This is our lorry And no one can drive it Am Inot right ? In all what I said We all wanna fight By our smart heads And now with the advices Or we say the rules Which might not be understood By a lot of fools Nothing to play No time for fun This is a closed place No way to run Do not be shy We don't wanna someone cry In the final day In the real place Where everyone have to brave It's just five days We must care But we mustn't be scared We have to revise Without fears, without horrors Just open your eyes And pray for your lord Obey your mother And also your father They will stay Besides you together Believe them forever Whatever, and however They always pray for you A lot, not just a few The same with your teacher Do not be a cheater 'cause you're deceiving yourself Check your real note To see either you are In need of help Or you are In the straight road Eat a healthy food It will help you To revise good Now is everything understood I am praying Allah always with us I am seeking His merciful for us Dear GOD Please forgive all what We have done No matter what little or strong Was our faults Dear GOD Help us, especially this year Please, please yearn Us when we gonna be tested And also that day when the results will be announced because in ourselves we all have faith dear GOD please, do not upset our hope we wanna feel cool when we'll return home after seeing our results in school
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91
Touch me and hold me, I don't know what to do. I know that u know me better then, but the weathers changing. The weathers changing, its changing on me, I can't resist I can't shake it, I'm tryin, to go deep. Bury myself deeply in everything any thing something I can't ignore these feelings its scaring me now. You may be fine, and you say its ok.. But the weathers suddenly changing on me. It feels critical. Its grabbing me in my soul. love! Its shaking me up. I try to hide from it. But wait! Did u get a whisper from the wind? Anything to rattle you shake you from within. what's happening do you know. I try to hide from it. I am tryin to talk myself out of it. what is it time to do. I've been waiting patiently but the weathers changing on me. Baby what's it time to do. I'll get back with you I hope I get bac to you. I REALLY DONT KNOW WHAT I must do. @Sharday Poetry@Weathers_Changing2
0
Mar 30, 2023
Mar 30, 2023 at 11:00 PM UTC
The weathers changing 2
Rainfaring Seminal beat, “.08 BAC phosphorylating proteins β-adrenoceptor viral disease”, He wheezed In the driveway of The wrong house Cabernet Savignon Telling him now I wish for him meteorites The horror of disastering Interplanetary play Setting him alight With angel soot on solar wings Soul whetting
0
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 3:20 PM UTC
Sunday Note
We never got to go to the hookah bar like you promised me It’s funny how life works sometimes One minute you’re so in love you’re drunk on it And the next thing you know you’re hungover And the stomach acid taste of his next girlfriends name burns in your chest I always knew we wouldn’t be together forever But I still let this tear me apart I still lost my dinner when I saw her for the first time And god it hurt I’ve never been drunk before So this metaphor I’m trying to crack open might be a cold one But I know you know alcohol like your middle name (and your last name and your first name) You know PBR like a lover And drink $5 wine like it’s from the fountain of youth But we thought we were invincible And that night I hold onto Has so many memories Sometimes when I think of them I still feel like I can never die But that’s probably what my friends mother thought With her BAC of .3 And her car sinking into the water Life was good to her With her 2 sons and 3 daughters Her job promotion And her health But she still swore his name burned her like whisky Down her throat I’m worried I’ll hold onto you forever But I’m even more worried I'll forget Forget how good it feels to love Forget how good it feels to be alive Because the first time I had moonshine hurt like hell But I don’t want to forget laying on my kitchen floor crying Because it tasted so bad Because the memories are what keep me alive They leave the tipsy feeling But take the blackout harmony It isn’t the same when the alcohol leaves you So I am sorry I am sorry that I stayed drunk too long I am sorry that I am a disaster when I’m hungover And I am so **** sorry That I just sobered up But I still feel the burn Of our names together And our favorite poetry And your smile I don’t know what comes after sobriety I don’t know what comes after you realize the person you’ve loved Never loved you to begin with I don’t know what happens after the hangover fades away and you’re only left with what it really feels like to ache But I guess it’s time to find out
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Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:15 AM UTC
The Liquor
We never got to go to the hookah bar like you promised me It’s funny how life works sometimes One minute you’re so in love you’re drunk on it And the next thing you know you’re hungover And the stomach acid taste of his next girlfriends name burns in your chest I always knew we wouldn’t be together forever But I still let this tear me apart I still lost my dinner when I saw her for the first time And god it hurt I’ve never been drunk before So this metaphor I’m trying to crack open might be a cold one But I know you know alcohol like your middle name (and your last name and your first name) You know PBR like a lover And drink $5 wine like it’s from the fountain of youth But we thought we were invincible And that night I hold onto Has so many memories Sometimes when I think of them I still feel like I can never die But that’s probably what my friends mother thought With her BAC of .3 And her car sinking into the water Life was good to her With her 2 sons and 3 daughters Her job promotion And her health But she still swore his name burned her like whisky Down her throat I’m worried I’ll hold onto you forever But I’m even more worried I'll forget Forget how good it feels to love Forget how good it feels to be alive Because the first time I had moonshine hurt like hell But I don’t want to forget laying on my kitchen floor crying Because it tasted so bad Because the memories are what keep me alive They leave the tipsy feeling But take the blackout harmony It isn’t the same when the alcohol leaves you So I am sorry I am sorry that I stayed drunk too long I am sorry that I am a disaster when I’m hungover And I am so **** sorry That I just sobered up But I still feel the burn Of our names together And our favorite poetry And your smile I don’t know what comes after sobriety I don’t know what comes after you realize the person you’ve loved Never loved you to begin with I don’t know what happens after the hangover fades away and you’re only left with what it really feels like to ache But I guess it’s time to find out
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53
Sleep does not come easy, as I lay in place my mind begins to race calculating moments and second spent your presence But still sleep does not come easy I close my eyes and try to count the sheep, instead i replay ur words and  wat they do to me... It is easy for one to pretend something does not exist if evidence of it's existence is missed...right? Or is this an inevitable lost a battle of the labors of uncautious thoughts holding on to my mind tight ?? None of this seems right!!!....right?? Stop! deep breath bac to countin sheep...smh but still sleep dose not come easy Am I alone? As I stare in to the darkness of my room I say out louds as if I was to be answerd by the shadows that take shape, giving life to the  silhouette that is u of in my subcountios mind ..are you real?.....
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Untitled
I'll call you back.. Nope..im..goin to the beach.. watch the waves collide at my feet.. Feel those caressing moon tides as they pull at me.. almost taking control.. Makes me feel dizzy that kinda dizzy we enjoy.. Nope I'll be away on the bay..You'll what?.. You'll call me bac I ain't feelin that. I'll be caressing sweet sandy candy canes.. As sugar treats call my name.. Can't sit and wait on your returned call It'll chase away my flow for the winds call.. I'll call you bac... I'll answer it If I.. am feelin like crashing a high. From my beaches dramatic sigh... Allow a misty tear to part my eye.. umm hold on go on Do yo own thang.. I wanna run and catch a ball Even if I trip on this beach sand and fall. wow you'll call me back I aint feelin that. Wow I'm away enjoying this moment of expressing it all. Wow..left my call on hold. yah take me for a fool how bold. Wait hold that call..wow. Ignoring that returning call I'ma bow. At the beach enjoying it all now. Lolzz my writers Gears are On..plow plow.. Pack up and come along or I'ma leave  yah sayin wow. I aint feelin that.. you ain't got to call me back. by selinaSharday
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Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
"I'll Call Ya Back"
He looks cute, right? My lips bleed from the bite                                                          I think I like him, hey you okay?            “Oh yeah, just feeling a bit grey” Her eyes fall on him as mine fall on her                                                            You know, I’m not sure My eyes move to the vapor She blows out               “About what” I stare at her pretty pink lips Reality weighs me down like bricks I’m just- nothing She’s quick to smile Hiding everything she thinks Her lips stay curved Her eyes stay scrunched up For a while The spotted boy winks It takes everything to not shout She’s mine                                                        Um, I’m kinda- My eyes turn away from her and to the bar line She’ll be more happy with him, anyway I shouldn’t stay        “I’ll be over here”                                                         No, come bac- My body argues my mind No, you’re confined to boys You don’t love her You are above this Normal              “One ***** martini, ***** The smell of marijuana Overpowering anything else My heartbeat, my pulse Speeding up as I order a second                                                         What the hell are you doing?! The sound of her words Now intoxicate me          “Go to him” I slur my words But to her they’re clear                                                               What are you doing, stop!          “No, go **** on a lollipop”                                                                Listen to me! My fingers now turned 90 degrees                                                                  You’re only fifteen! She yells in my face Is it broken? Let’s check just in case Her delicate warm hands Feel like the calm in the storm                                                                        It’s broke             “Thanks a lot” She slaps me in to reality Her mouth opens wide Showing her cute tooth gap I can’t adore I start to cry as I fall to the floor              “I hate you!” My words full of hatred What mess have I created                                                                       Great because I loved you
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 12:14 PM UTC
Her
He looks cute, right? My lips bleed from the bite                                                          I think I like him, hey you okay?            “Oh yeah, just feeling a bit grey” Her eyes fall on him as mine fall on her                                                            You know, I’m not sure My eyes move to the vapor She blows out               “About what” I stare at her pretty pink lips Reality weighs me down like bricks I’m just- nothing She’s quick to smile Hiding everything she thinks Her lips stay curved Her eyes stay scrunched up For a while The spotted boy winks It takes everything to not shout She’s mine                                                        Um, I’m kinda- My eyes turn away from her and to the bar line She’ll be more happy with him, anyway I shouldn’t stay        “I’ll be over here”                                                         No, come bac- My body argues my mind No, you’re confined to boys You don’t love her You are above this Normal              “One ***** martini, ***** The smell of marijuana Overpowering anything else My heartbeat, my pulse Speeding up as I order a second                                                         What the hell are you doing?! The sound of her words Now intoxicate me          “Go to him” I slur my words But to her they’re clear                                                               What are you doing, stop!          “No, go **** on a lollipop”                                                                Listen to me! My fingers now turned 90 degrees                                                                  You’re only fifteen! She yells in my face Is it broken? Let’s check just in case Her delicate warm hands Feel like the calm in the storm                                                                        It’s broke             “Thanks a lot” She slaps me in to reality Her mouth opens wide Showing her cute tooth gap I can’t adore I start to cry as I fall to the floor              “I hate you!” My words full of hatred What mess have I created                                                                       Great because I loved you
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62
Assise sur le banc du bac de Gouderak elle atteint soudainement pour son vélo glissant. Par accident elle me donne un coup de pied. Puis un regard de véritable regret Aucune traversée est assez longue pour oublier cet oeillade bien affectionnée. Le navire arrive au quai. La rampe est ouverte. Elle s'éclipse le long de la digue — mes émotions fraîches toujours inconnus.
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Jul 30, 2021
Jul 30, 2021 at 10:59 PM UTC
Sur le bac de Gouderak