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"backhand" poems
Daniela Hantuchova is hot that backhand, what a shot! arms and legs too thin her game still full of win.
0
May 30, 2010
May 30, 2010 at 11:00 AM UTC
Anorexic or not
Don't knock what you've never tried Lock box with a heart inside Six shots from a forty five Punk rock makes you come alive Black-hawks in the clear blue sky It's ad hoc but you can just get by On Poprocks and cyanide Tick-tock time to decide What made you think that you could take me down? The method's flawed, but the strategies sound. What made you try to hold me back? I hope you're ready for the counter-attack. Backhand and you feel the heat Grandstand 'till you take a seat Kickstand just to keep your feet Firsthand watch you admit defeat
0
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Punk Rock and Cyanide
15 to love, still able to win, gotta tough it out, winning is everything. Losing's a sin. I'll keep trying. I'm still in with a shout. My backhand slices the ball to my foe (Joe's my friend but in a crisis, I shift where the winds blow) He parries, sends the ball to the line, his touch is immaculate, cleaner than mine. I leap like a cat return it with ease he flicks it back over the net intending to tease. I grimace. We made a bet and now I engage into higher gear, my brain fills with rage, my heart fills with fear. Advantage to me, the crowd stands to cheer, Joe falls to one knee, buckled, losing a tear. I volley. It whizzers past his frozen form he tries, but misses, defeated, forelorn. At last I have won, the gold cup is mine, another dream spun, back to the factory line.
0
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 7:47 AM UTC
A GAME OF TENNIS
I watched you there, sitting in the small booth. You were sitting in your denim pants, with your arm draped over the top of the bench’s backing, as if someone had been sitting with you, less than moments ago. A thought flashed into your eyes, and your posture became awful, it bent like a string that was meant to resound and hum, but instead twanged and then broke. The way you sat brought the table closer to your chin, and your eyes became watery. You were gazing into your brown drink. You hadn’t touched the rim yet, hadn’t moistened it with your lips, which hid under a forest of coarse growth. Did you notice the consistency of the foam in your glass? I bet you the waiter had spat in it. He didn’t like your tone; even as glass with something thrown in the middle. He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was melancholy with an aftertaste of maybe. An aftertaste of hope. Or it was an incurable sadness that hadn’t permeated the deepest caves in your lungs. Your heart, I mean. Did you feel it in your chest? This emotion? Let me tell it to you backhand-style, because I think I understand. It’s the time when the little boy runs off the cliff - but the mother or father snaps their fingers around the child’s hand. When you open your eyes, the child isn’t what you thought he would be (gone). He isn’t a soul that, with the loss of him has ripped the living, beating heart from your bare chest. He hasn’t. No, no, but the claws have grazed your skin. Still, you live, the child lives. This is because he hasn’t stolen the air from your heart. Your lungs, I mean. When you see him alive, then your lungs swell, swell, swell, then they pop. Then, and only then, you know you’ve reached your capacity. Ah, but listen now; when joy leaves, it empties a room. The room can get very empty, and cold, like December, and meaningless like July afternoons. The rupture from the pop heals, and where do you go? You know what you’re missing, and you can’t get it back. There you were, back at the shrinking booth. The foam hadn’t nestled in your mustache - yet-. The waiter turned away. You couldn’t see inside his mind, but your eyes told me the loss in yours. I sipped my orange juice, all the while wondering how you were, wondering why I like to watch.
0
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 10:31 AM UTC
Orange juice and mustaches
I watched you there, sitting in the small booth. You were sitting in your denim pants, with your arm draped over the top of the bench’s backing, as if someone had been sitting with you, less than moments ago. A thought flashed into your eyes, and your posture became awful, it bent like a string that was meant to resound and hum, but instead twanged and then broke. The way you sat brought the table closer to your chin, and your eyes became watery. You were gazing into your brown drink. You hadn’t touched the rim yet, hadn’t moistened it with your lips, which hid under a forest of coarse growth. Did you notice the consistency of the foam in your glass? I bet you the waiter had spat in it. He didn’t like your tone; even as glass with something thrown in the middle. He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was melancholy with an aftertaste of maybe. An aftertaste of hope. Or it was an incurable sadness that hadn’t permeated the deepest caves in your lungs. Your heart, I mean. Did you feel it in your chest? This emotion? Let me tell it to you backhand-style, because I think I understand. It’s the time when the little boy runs off the cliff - but the mother or father snaps their fingers around the child’s hand. When you open your eyes, the child isn’t what you thought he would be (gone). He isn’t a soul that, with the loss of him has ripped the living, beating heart from your bare chest. He hasn’t. No, no, but the claws have grazed your skin. Still, you live, the child lives. This is because he hasn’t stolen the air from your heart. Your lungs, I mean. When you see him alive, then your lungs swell, swell, swell, then they pop. Then, and only then, you know you’ve reached your capacity. Ah, but listen now; when joy leaves, it empties a room. The room can get very empty, and cold, like December, and meaningless like July afternoons. The rupture from the pop heals, and where do you go? You know what you’re missing, and you can’t get it back. There you were, back at the shrinking booth. The foam hadn’t nestled in your mustache - yet-. The waiter turned away. You couldn’t see inside his mind, but your eyes told me the loss in yours. I sipped my orange juice, all the while wondering how you were, wondering why I like to watch.
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10
15 to love, still able to win, gotta tough it out, winning is everything. Losing's a sin. I'll keep trying. I'm still in with a shout. My backhand slices the ball to my foe (Joe's my friend but in a crisis, I shift where the winds blow) He parries, sends the ball to the line, his touch is immaculate, cleaner than mine. I leap like a cat return it with ease he flicks it back over the net intending to tease. I grimace. We made a bet and now I engage into higher gear, my brain fills with rage, my heart fills with fear. Advantage to me, the crowd stands to cheer, Joe falls to one knee, buckled, losing a tear. I volley. It whizzers past his frozen form he tries, but misses, defeated, forelorn. At last I have won, the gold cup is mine, another dream spun, back to the factory line.
0
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
A GAME OF TENNIS
There once was a great player named Tom who hit every shot like a bomb the forehand was a Grenade and needed no aid The backhand was nuclear and always particular The volleys shot like an arrow and stung like it, hit your bone marrow But his smash was the stash and you wouldn't want its lash So let's hear it for Chadwick the man  who's game is so madwick!
0
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 9:37 PM UTC
Tennis poetry
She was a child wild wearing a white dress, galloping through fields of unrest, inspiring anxious warheads, for a hot second. Off to the next. She was anxious like a feather caught in a breeze, far from that child that minded none the weeds. Backhand compliments more potent than misogynic critiques. She was Marilyn Monroe. Where was Norma Jean? Living in a man's dream, pinned up in a concrete bunker, a porcelain poster tearing each time she wasn't taken seriously, or spent nights alone aside a dusty phone, with no home but Norma Jean, Marilyn's martyr long at peace.
0
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Fame. (Marilyn)
I watched you there, sitting in the small booth. You were sitting in your denim pants, with your arm draped over the top of the bench’s backing, as if someone had been sitting with you, less than moments ago. A thought flashed into your eyes, and your posture became awful, it bent like a string that was meant to resound and hum, but instead twanged and then broke. The way you sat brought the table closer to your chin, and your eyes became watery. You were gazing into your brown drink. You hadn’t touched the rim yet, hadn’t moistened it with your lips, which hid under a forest of coarse growth. Did you notice the consistency of the foam in your glass? I bet you the waiter had spat in it. He didn’t like your tone; even as glass with something thrown in the middle. He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was melancholy with an aftertaste of maybe. An aftertaste of hope. Or it was an incurable sadness that hadn’t permeated the deepest caves in your lungs. Your heart, I mean. Did you feel it in your chest? This emotion? Let me tell it to you backhand-style, because I think I understand. It’s the time when the little boy runs off the cliff - but the mother or father snaps their fingers around the child’s hand. When you open your eyes, the child isn’t what you thought he would be (gone). He isn’t a soul that, with the loss of him has ripped the living, beating heart from your bare chest. He hasn’t. No, no, but the claws have grazed your skin. Still, you live, the child lives. This is because he hasn’t stolen the air from your heart. Your lungs, I mean. When you see him alive, then your lungs swell, swell, swell, then they pop. Then, and only then, you know you’ve reached your capacity. Ah, but listen now; when joy leaves, it empties a room. The room can get very empty, and cold, like December, and meaningless like July afternoons. The rupture from the pop heals, and where do you go? You know what you’re missing, and you can’t get it back. There you were, back at the shrinking booth. The foam hadn’t nestled in your mustache - yet-. The waiter turned away. You couldn’t see inside his mind, but your eyes told me the loss in yours. I sipped my orange juice, all the while wondering how you were, wondering why I like to watch.
0
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
Orange Juice and mustaches
I watched you there, sitting in the small booth. You were sitting in your denim pants, with your arm draped over the top of the bench’s backing, as if someone had been sitting with you, less than moments ago. A thought flashed into your eyes, and your posture became awful, it bent like a string that was meant to resound and hum, but instead twanged and then broke. The way you sat brought the table closer to your chin, and your eyes became watery. You were gazing into your brown drink. You hadn’t touched the rim yet, hadn’t moistened it with your lips, which hid under a forest of coarse growth. Did you notice the consistency of the foam in your glass? I bet you the waiter had spat in it. He didn’t like your tone; even as glass with something thrown in the middle. He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was melancholy with an aftertaste of maybe. An aftertaste of hope. Or it was an incurable sadness that hadn’t permeated the deepest caves in your lungs. Your heart, I mean. Did you feel it in your chest? This emotion? Let me tell it to you backhand-style, because I think I understand. It’s the time when the little boy runs off the cliff - but the mother or father snaps their fingers around the child’s hand. When you open your eyes, the child isn’t what you thought he would be (gone). He isn’t a soul that, with the loss of him has ripped the living, beating heart from your bare chest. He hasn’t. No, no, but the claws have grazed your skin. Still, you live, the child lives. This is because he hasn’t stolen the air from your heart. Your lungs, I mean. When you see him alive, then your lungs swell, swell, swell, then they pop. Then, and only then, you know you’ve reached your capacity. Ah, but listen now; when joy leaves, it empties a room. The room can get very empty, and cold, like December, and meaningless like July afternoons. The rupture from the pop heals, and where do you go? You know what you’re missing, and you can’t get it back. There you were, back at the shrinking booth. The foam hadn’t nestled in your mustache - yet-. The waiter turned away. You couldn’t see inside his mind, but your eyes told me the loss in yours. I sipped my orange juice, all the while wondering how you were, wondering why I like to watch.
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10
one tumbled out of the womb convulsing like a breakdancer five posed with lights & cigarettes, light eight lipstick smeared giddily on the backhand twelve bought birth control shared among friends pills split with a jacknife sixteen fascinated by violet waves & crystal castles twenty-one cancer of the soul flask in her ribs she moves among suitors like whispers of fame twenty-two nosering replaced polished for the wake croptop in the casket
0
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
alice
I thought I was in love with an angry boy my mother always told me never to allow someone into your heart who talks about how quickly his fists can move never love someone who strikes then listens I know girls who will take a backhand if it is followed by a kiss But the second time you tried to put your hands on me I moved and let your body slam onto the table I am worth more than bruises and your claiming of an endless love haven't you ever heard Actions are worth more than words?
0
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
Heart Shaped Bruises
I used to wake up missing him, as if we didn’t spend almost every waking minute in each other’s presence. As if I didn’t hear his voice more than my own. “Your shadow doesn’t belong to you. I know where you’ve been.” “I have no reason to lie,” he would recite to me. That was our nightly tradition. I would watch him sit across from me at the dinner table, telling me that he never did mean to hurt me, with my heart on his plate. I packed ahead of time, and reorganized my regrets to make room for our relationship. I crumpled up the letter I wrote and put it in my back pocket. I couldn’t bring myself to explain why I had to leave him; my absence would be devastating enough. He would make his fabrications fit into the palm of his hand and smack me with them. I was born and raised by the backhand of heartbreak so it was home away from home when I ran away to him. Instead of standing up for myself I wrote poetry so hot that I would burn his mouth every time I tried to feed him. He was a better cook anyway. My grandmother, when I sought her wise council, told me that I should accept the pain and try to make something out of it. I remember when I tried to make love out of my pain for the last time. He clawed my spirit out of me, put it under my head like a pillow. He laid on top of me, grinding into my pelvic bone, making heat that burned my skin. The bite marks on my chest stung when his sweat dripped on me. I closed my eyes and saw the manifestation of my fears. My body finally gave out after running from my ****** and he came when I did. As he slept, I cleaned the blood from under his fingernails.
0
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 8:24 PM UTC
I packed just one bag...
I used to wake up missing him, as if we didn’t spend almost every waking minute in each other’s presence. As if I didn’t hear his voice more than my own. “Your shadow doesn’t belong to you. I know where you’ve been.” “I have no reason to lie,” he would recite to me. That was our nightly tradition. I would watch him sit across from me at the dinner table, telling me that he never did mean to hurt me, with my heart on his plate. I packed ahead of time, and reorganized my regrets to make room for our relationship. I crumpled up the letter I wrote and put it in my back pocket. I couldn’t bring myself to explain why I had to leave him; my absence would be devastating enough. He would make his fabrications fit into the palm of his hand and smack me with them. I was born and raised by the backhand of heartbreak so it was home away from home when I ran away to him. Instead of standing up for myself I wrote poetry so hot that I would burn his mouth every time I tried to feed him. He was a better cook anyway. My grandmother, when I sought her wise council, told me that I should accept the pain and try to make something out of it. I remember when I tried to make love out of my pain for the last time. He clawed my spirit out of me, put it under my head like a pillow. He laid on top of me, grinding into my pelvic bone, making heat that burned my skin. The bite marks on my chest stung when his sweat dripped on me. I closed my eyes and saw the manifestation of my fears. My body finally gave out after running from my ****** and he came when I did. As he slept, I cleaned the blood from under his fingernails.
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23
When the rainy gloomy day From the gray clouds weaves the arch, When the heaven of lead acid in the silence Floating to us vast object, When the foliage discolor, And the cries of birds can be heard barely, And thousands of hums seas Denunciations from the heavens stronger, When the winds are changing rules, And hit the backhand in the discord, And the air, woven from the the needles, Sparks all over the blackness, Suddenly a flash split the day in two, And the lightning sparkle the bridge, Connecting the heavenly home and the ground, Showing the miracle of burning fire.
0
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
Thunderstorm
The suit in question Is grey. Pin-striped white. Double-breasted. Three piece. Blue tie, grey hatching. An absolute nightmare to change into. I drop my jeans In the monastery stall, Shed my shoes. Old friends. The trousers, slacks, Rise morning fog And sleep in the stratus Of my waist. I really wonder how The men of the then Could have worn them. So much taller. So much grander. So much straighter. White shirt with The butterfly tracks, Make-up stains From a billion ancestors. Dead relatives that don’t Respond to the call. I take their places Without a single Crumb of guilt, O feel the guilt. The vest. Easy enough. Yeast but grey and it Rises horizontally. I’ve just noticed pockets Sewn into maddening teases. The barest suggestion Of an opening. It holds like the bowl of the moon. The coat. The great monarch. Organizer with a clipboard Ensuring the quality Of a burlesque of silk. So strange. So other. So queer. In a minute or two, the Hyperhydrosis. It really is my only hope Of describing my true temperature. I will ignite in a biological Soliloquy that can Pronounce all those tricky Thoughts I’ve given up For the stage. Gentle gravity, Cruel crushing backhand. Burst my complexion, Steal my aqueous words. Again, this suit. How many Lomans, Bankers, adjudicators, Businessmen and Babbits Have lived out their deaths In you? Brave rain cloud, Where is your lining? I feel the quip swelling And project it to the back wall: Only the costume knows true reincarnation.
0
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC
Samsara
The suit in question Is grey. Pin-striped white. Double-breasted. Three piece. Blue tie, grey hatching. An absolute nightmare to change into. I drop my jeans In the monastery stall, Shed my shoes. Old friends. The trousers, slacks, Rise morning fog And sleep in the stratus Of my waist. I really wonder how The men of the then Could have worn them. So much taller. So much grander. So much straighter. White shirt with The butterfly tracks, Make-up stains From a billion ancestors. Dead relatives that don’t Respond to the call. I take their places Without a single Crumb of guilt, O feel the guilt. The vest. Easy enough. Yeast but grey and it Rises horizontally. I’ve just noticed pockets Sewn into maddening teases. The barest suggestion Of an opening. It holds like the bowl of the moon. The coat. The great monarch. Organizer with a clipboard Ensuring the quality Of a burlesque of silk. So strange. So other. So queer. In a minute or two, the Hyperhydrosis. It really is my only hope Of describing my true temperature. I will ignite in a biological Soliloquy that can Pronounce all those tricky Thoughts I’ve given up For the stage. Gentle gravity, Cruel crushing backhand. Burst my complexion, Steal my aqueous words. Again, this suit. How many Lomans, Bankers, adjudicators, Businessmen and Babbits Have lived out their deaths In you? Brave rain cloud, Where is your lining? I feel the quip swelling And project it to the back wall: Only the costume knows true reincarnation.
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68
I pull back and backhand you like an old school **** checking his *** I don't condone that behavior, I'm making a point... literally Next comes that vicious overhead smash in the name of love as I desire to keep you in a confined box Forehand after Forehand to complete the point, set and ultimately match You may judge me with your rules, but you will not break me as I am the winner.
0
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC
TENNIS
There’s a corner of my basement I can see it from the couch It’s a doorway of light Opening to a stairwell A light is on near my bed It’s small A phone perhaps I have headphones on So It’s hard to sleep comfortably I like to nestle my head into the crook of my arm I stare at a worn down drop-ceiling Those two lights are on either side of my vision I keep waiting I keep rolling into the cracks I’ve had to adjust the cushions far too many times A smile A warmth My eyes I don’t want to swallow The jar is closed Pandora’s box of light opened while I streamed blues on Pandora And I see the lights go static They bend into each other in the dark I wave my fingers in front of my face I’ve probably killed a few brain cells here Definitely. Sorry Mom I was bored and rubber cement is only 3.97 I’m drunk on a cleanse from oxygen I’m sure my nostrils will thank me later My brain could use an adhesive Flexibility would bond loose ends And repair the divisiveness I have my hands in everything And I can’t remember the last time I stepped in dog **** But a hand in phylogeny is a backhand to Baptists A hand in salvation is a slap in the face to the Darwinists I love everyday I have a toast! To the moment the rapture brings about our extinction my friends! At least everyone thinks I’m stupid. Right in the middle of the room is the right place to be A bullseye for stone chuckers and monkey ******* A hand out for the druggies And a jab at the churches who aren’t doing anything A round of applause for cruel irony And a finger turned up in a creative way to everyone who’s laughing at the episode Vishnu would have a hay day And I could use the extra hands. Jesus’s are tied- I mean nailed up at the moment But when miracles don’t happen anymore Go read first Samuel, and you’ll see all this **** went down before And there’s another cycle History repeats itself In through the nose and out through your mouth Just keep a nostril over the jar And don’t die
0
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
Inhalants
There’s a corner of my basement I can see it from the couch It’s a doorway of light Opening to a stairwell A light is on near my bed It’s small A phone perhaps I have headphones on So It’s hard to sleep comfortably I like to nestle my head into the crook of my arm I stare at a worn down drop-ceiling Those two lights are on either side of my vision I keep waiting I keep rolling into the cracks I’ve had to adjust the cushions far too many times A smile A warmth My eyes I don’t want to swallow The jar is closed Pandora’s box of light opened while I streamed blues on Pandora And I see the lights go static They bend into each other in the dark I wave my fingers in front of my face I’ve probably killed a few brain cells here Definitely. Sorry Mom I was bored and rubber cement is only 3.97 I’m drunk on a cleanse from oxygen I’m sure my nostrils will thank me later My brain could use an adhesive Flexibility would bond loose ends And repair the divisiveness I have my hands in everything And I can’t remember the last time I stepped in dog **** But a hand in phylogeny is a backhand to Baptists A hand in salvation is a slap in the face to the Darwinists I love everyday I have a toast! To the moment the rapture brings about our extinction my friends! At least everyone thinks I’m stupid. Right in the middle of the room is the right place to be A bullseye for stone chuckers and monkey ******* A hand out for the druggies And a jab at the churches who aren’t doing anything A round of applause for cruel irony And a finger turned up in a creative way to everyone who’s laughing at the episode Vishnu would have a hay day And I could use the extra hands. Jesus’s are tied- I mean nailed up at the moment But when miracles don’t happen anymore Go read first Samuel, and you’ll see all this **** went down before And there’s another cycle History repeats itself In through the nose and out through your mouth Just keep a nostril over the jar And don’t die
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56
I guess I'm a liar. That I never walked through hell For a devil with the face of an angel I never took the blame for her sins My pain didn't inspire my writings It was all you. Though we never spoke or met I stole your pain, I guess 'Cause you're the only one Who ever felt the backhand of love Thank you for creating the feeling, Of both drowning and falling Of both burning and freezing Only YOU know. What it feels like to be wounded And to bleed all over the world I never had a relationship with A megalomaniacal, evil ***** I guess I just stole it. Memories of brutality without shame How did we ever feel before you came? Along and taught us this new word, This uncharted concept for which No one has previously heard. Get over yourself. It's just a word And mine is better than yours.
0
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
This, You DID Inspire.
Ain't nobody notices you- 'till the spot-light's on... A smokey 'gray sigh- up since three-in-the morn... A stiff whisky breakfast- stench lingers forth and when, you, open-ya mouth- the cold, pain'a the world, come rowlin' out. And when, your, voice-'sprays that sound- rattlin' round our ears like a chain. Ya' seem old as dirt, man-- but hurt worse than your infant *** after ya'daddy branded it-- w/ the knuck's a his backhand. understandable why- ya' wanna get higher, than the fumes of ya' sapphire water. This is all 'ya got left 'till death, comes an grants ya warmth. and you're, all, lone till the demons soar forth from 'ya soul.
0
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
Blues Man
grown too big for my britches, I run my fat, fat mouth until I look like a fool--a happy one. flirting up a storm with his friends, antagonizing my brother, my friend, until she yells, and he kicks my *** I went for a hug, and he kicked my *** (!) physically pinning me, I can't move I rolled him over once, at least I got that, and he later apologized for be a **** I mean, he's got three inches fifty pounds of muscle, and actual fighting training on me How long could I really last? I am a woman, I am weaker. Kate told me that in Nepal, the men backhand the women and children, very easily, and she was backhanded for not remembering how to say her name in Nepallian. That must feel awful, to have a feeling of power handed over to big fists because of strength, not money. I watch the trees, I break a beer bottle on accident I flash the cars over the bridge, I wasn't even that drunk, I am just sad--very tired of feeling nothing. It's just sibling rivalry, and we'll both get over it. my family makes a tall crowd; my mother is 5'10", the shortest we were raised to party, hard, and we entertain, flamboyantly we were raised to clean it up, efficiently, to take responsibility I might be a fool, but at least I'm going to be happy later. That's not guaranteed though, I am sure of that, certainly He might be too jaded to be as successful as he could be. That's not guaranteed though, I am sure of that, certainly.
0
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
low place like home
My ears are stopped with tapers, so I'll hear no more of this ****** farce you and he have going. Every time you ask for more abuse, I realize I'm better off not knowing. But my playlist is full of sadness, and the rest is a bore. So your screams are my melody and I'll listen as your blood keeps on flowing. They say fools rush in, and more the fool you. More the fool me too, to listen to your pained cries for more pain, as your skin is red glowing, The bruise slowly growing, as you exult in the sick high you get from his backhand; as I listen to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus ask him if he feels like a man. There's no pain more complete tonight Than the ringing in my tear soaked budded ears when he says **** my **** ***** with those lips so sweet... "and tight." And you oblige, because you're too used to it to fear, and it makes you feel beautiful, because only angels weep, right? That's the sad lesson heard here. I bid my sad playlist goodnight.
0
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Playlist
This is a very explicite poem im gonna hit that ***** shes gonna be gushing blood from her stitches i can tell her whole bodies got twitches my nine is gonna make her whine that ***** better make my dome shine im gonna backhand that *** she better not **** with my head or shes gonna be in the streets and not in my bed ****** up a million times wish i could take it back but she has no right to make my anger snap and crack my hearts burning like the hot heat of a flame im gonna ***** this ***** up and wont have any shame i'll admit im an angel that cant sing sitting back and letting her do her thing feeling weak in my soul, body and mind got more potential then any producer could find got nowhere in life with her by my side but in my heart, she has left and died now the puddle of blood at the foot of my shoes theres no way that this far into it, i could lose but being madly in love has its disadvantages but for now that skanky ***** is in bandages
0
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 2:26 PM UTC
Lockdown
Tonight the very notion that steals my mental devotion, is that chance play a motion in that commotion concerning whether one receives a demotion or a promotion To be lucky or unlucky! It must feel a little yucky, perhaps a bit sucky, that your ability to forsee outcomes is a tad mucky You might play your hand and find your decision be grand, or life may demand that you be reprimand, where things may not go as planned as you receive a backhand Hell you may just strike gold, where you luck begins to unfold, where your wealth was withhold, it may just so happen you behold your gold increase eightfold! People like to be upset due to all the others they've met who don't seem to sweat and carry no debt, people who fret thinking they deserve a corvette or a big shiny jet that they'll get when they win the grand luck roulette. Still I think that it shows that even if life blows, when the sky fills with crows and your luck seems to have froze, luck is just a fact of life that nobody knows With the good comes the bad, with the happy the sad, with the boring the rad, that luck is quite a fad Just know that whether you're hung out to dry or live in Versailles, whether you hit the bulls-eye or things go awry, have everything money can buy or just barely scrape by, you just can't deny your life is at the mercy of life's invisible die
0
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
Luck
I can see the truth in the horizon And it doesn’t look very happy I know it cause it reeks of doom And charges to attack me My virginity is jeopardized I’ve been a lie all these years If I was smarter than yesterday I could’ve avoided these fears Spring cleaning has suddenly come And it woke up my nightmares Everyone feels the disappointed Now it’s time for my share It’s the fist of Goliath The sharp sting of a backhand The anticipation hurt like the verdict I've had *** with a man
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 7:01 PM UTC
The Frightful Sub-Conscious
Darling, we're insanity. I come back to listen To you whisper your sweet nothings, Then get a backhand to the face. I know "you have the capacity to change," I mutter to myself, the whole way To and back from your place. I tell myself "it won't always be this way," One of these days, My blood soaked clothes A trail upon your floor, You'll beg me to stay.
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
"Define insanity," he toys.
Travis used to pick up pebbles Held them in his hand looking For gold... Or crystal, smooth sides Or even one with a strange color He wanted to throw them upstream So he could watch his collection Bounce before it drowns Now I've been collecting pebbles Since he shot one bouncing farther Than the heat could bend the light I learned religion that day I woulda started a church on the shore Hiring monks to unravel the secrets Of his backhand throw, I mean if I could even pick up The pebbles anymore without Watching half drip through fingertips Just to watch them drown, thudding Into last years promises, I swear if I had a pebble for every Promise I made to my future, I'd be forced to build a wall Between me and every half-thrown Analogy ripping your mind Out of the moment and hello This isn't a Poem, this is Uhhhhh.... Just words in a line and so if that Interruption wasn't enough to Send you Running Then you're stronger than the people Disappointed by my inattention to details If I really had a pebble for every Promise I've ever broken I'd do my best To pile them up in such a way that the right Light reflects my true intentions That wall, is a scarf, to keep you warm All the nights you had to cry yourself To sleepless tossing when I should've been There. To wipe away your tears and I'm sorry.. But I'm gonna have to leave You in that bed a few more times I still Haven't learned how to count sheep who can't jump over that wall we built
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
pile of pebbles