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"backup" poems
Fearless Warrior prepare for battle Stand your ground Fearless warrior dawn your armor Be prepared for all things-Good and bad Fearless Warrior hold your head up high Don't get discouraged This battle will only be for a little while Fearless warrior prepare for battle Stand your ground Fearless Warrior dawn your armor Hold true to your heart's desires Fearless Warrior Don't forget to look around you Don't forget you have backup Fearless Warrior stand your ground Prepare for battle Fearless Warrior remember you don't always have to be fearless
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Fearless Warrior
Dust-covered two-lane highways Catch the footfalls of my meanderings. Meadowlarks and Phoebe-birds Sing backup to my tuneless whistles. Clouds illuminated by God-rays Paint the sky above my head And the Man in the Moon Smiles as I bed neath a willow for the night. I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a *** The iron wrought train tracks I secretly ride pass through the fields, The forests, the mountains and valleys, The cities and suburbs, the small towns too, Home to so many who choose there to dwell. But my home is the open countryside, The fields of wildflowers and bushes, The occasional oak or poplar for shelter, With a stone for my pillow Anywhere I wish to rest. I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a *** I am the outsider.
0
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
The Outsider
life is a competition, but no one really wins. we overachieve. set our goals too high. and after all the effort, end up farther back than square one. we pile work upon work for ourselves. we fake it till we make it, but do we ever make it? once the lights go out, black envelops the machine that never stops. not even when we sleep. tears put out the electric fire that burned the socket. and within the blackness that is my mind, you can hear a sizzling sound, until the backup generator kicks in and we begin to run again.
0
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
overachievers
My heart is a plaything On a length of tattered string, Batted at by paws With unrestrained claws.
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Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
Backup Plan
All I do is win, for I'm an Ace Painting a bulls-eye on everyone in the place In my plane I leave everyone else bailing out of the fight in disgrace If I was a horseman, I'd be War 'Cuz like the card game I win against Kings and Queens and take them out of the deck like the Joker on the sidelines, alone and bored. I don't need a Diamond to win you Heart, and I don't wanna join your Club, this was skill and not luck from the very start I am the Ace of Spades, and I'll use my ***** to dig out your graves I've been painted on the sides of planes cars and trains helicopters, submarines, and the munitions that deal out the pain I'm a trick shot Ace with the pool stick As a quarterback, I've yet to throw a pick As a pitcher, I make the other team sick The starter and the backup plan the Ultimate Ace in the Hole The best card in a poker hand lay me down and the money's in the bag I run solo, streaking across the land You only need to hold me in your hand and your enemies will become **** and I'll give 'em a taste of this whirling dervish's mace Leave them breathless upon the ground as I rob the air from out of this place you'll stand in awe of my greatness take a picture, make a statue Fill up every empty space with my name For I am an Ace!
0
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
Ace of Spades
I'm the villain, but how was I supposed to know he had a wife and two children. Twenty-three years of marriage and she contemplates her happily ever after coming to an end……after a miscarriage, another child's death, 23 anniversaries, and 23 year old twins. My sugar daddy lead a double life, but how, how, how……was I supposed to know that he had a wife? It should've registered to me how he always wanted to skip out of town, but how could he lie to his goddess and not see her standing before him in her wedding gown. She hates me……She hates me and I don't blame her, if she decides to **** me and him both, I hope they don't tame her. When this woman walked in with her husband's **** inside of me I felt a rush of excitement, rode him harder and looked her in the eyes as I did it……painful mistakes you make when you're *** addicted. They'll think about how Dad's fake girlfriend is younger than them, but they won't understand, she'll wonder why he stepped out on her with a stripper young enough to be their resting daughter………as she thinks of a backup plan. I know this is wrong, but I might be in love, and this is strong. There's black and there's white, and grey will never be right. But this grey is my sin escalating to a whole new level, I can't leave this man alone………for I am his cruel devil.
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Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 7:24 PM UTC
Cruella DeVille
Doctor, oh Doctor doctor, oh doctor, I'm feeling quite sick have pains everywhere, even in my finger my tongue is swollen, I can't even lick my girlfriend replaced me, with a backup singer doctor, oh doctor, I'm feeling so sore had all night *** with this old drunken lady she tossed me around, even down on the floor don't remember her name, but I called her Katie doctor, oh doctor, I'm missing a sock he took down my pants, and looked at my knee he noticed that I, was wearing a **** rubbed his chin, and said now let me see doctor, oh doctor, I have a bad case of gas he looked in my ears, and looked up my nose said not to worry, that this would soon pass now I am getting, cramps in my toes doctor, oh doctor, I have this urge to spit my stomach is growling, think I need to eat my head is throbbing, my shirt is quite wet sweat pouring off me, even my feet doctor, oh doctor, why these bruises and cuts I'm starting to feel, a swelling in my wrist yes my lady has again, shown me the door don't know what I did, to get her so ****** doctor, oh doctor, I'm bouncing off walls do you see anything, wrong with my heart is it broken again, is that the problem or do I just need, to cut a big **** Gomer LePoet...
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Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 6:01 AM UTC
Doctor, oh Doctor
Hey do you see me, I am on the side of the road, I am forgotten yet I was part of this street long ago, now I am but a little figment of imagination, yet I am not none existent at all. Do you want to talk to me or are you losing your mind ? Take me with you, I will be your backup, your solid motivation, Fragments of feelings are a fading memory which you seem to fail to remember, then wouldn't it make sense to keep them not as dearly, Maybe if you were alike me, stop thinking and start being free, A clear white mind with nothing to fear, empty with nothing to hear, They are gone they can't fade away, a hollow heart has nothing to say You are like me now isn't that nice, you have broken free from all lies, Now like a little rock, light enough to be carried by the wind, you wander aimlessly through this world, isolated from humanity, It is like they don't even understand that you are there, it is likely they don't care of your fate, nor do they seem to worry of what happened. But don't worry either, talk to me, your little figment of imagination, Because now you are like me and know what I feel like.. You are but a little rock on the side of the road. ~ Umi
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May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
Little Rock
The Sirens are in love with me. I’m digging a hole so deep, I’d rather continue to dig and dig and dig. The calm winds bring thunderous predictions. Bicycle rides send mixed signals. The Sirens send backup. A victorious guilt has won, But I fear the next day. The snowflakes come swimming in on May 1st, 2013. I’m a lost body browsing for comfort. The Sirens reach their destination. A collection of material items, Will only irritate the burn. I haven’t lived for one billion seconds. My mind is trafficking against my will. The Sirens have won.
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Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Soul Searching
You can call me ****** that's ok, I'll still believe that word today. Tell me you hate me, that's okay, because now I know your true feel. I'm nothing but a crazy ***** but you're the little bitch...and that's still okay, at least I'm not a snitch. Call for backup, but no one came, now who's the one to blame. Hahaha, laugh in your face, now do you still really want to play this game?
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Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
******
Second choice Backup plan ***** call When all else fails They are all the same thing. They are all Me.
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Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
"Second Choice" 20w
I want to be your franchise player; The reason you come out under The lights. My name and number sewn; A hall of famer that will Inevitably grace the walls To the corridors Of your memory with A bust of my face. I want to be the One. Not the backup on The bench with a Crooked cap on my Head and my helmet Between my feet. I need playing time With you. I want to win. Fiercely. I have No intention of Joining other Clubs, and I Wouldn't handle Free agency well. Ill put you on my chest everyday And go to war for you. Point To you from the Field when we score. Then come home to You. (Every time we're distant is the offseason. Every time we're Together is a championship Parade)
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Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
A sports poem about love
Love Unrequited Unilateral One-sided as it breaks me Leaves you indifferent Nothing but a nominal fling Nothing but a means to an end A backup A rebound For you: Friend turned Less than For me: Friend turned Everything. Ironic
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Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC
H-2
I'll admit I didn't notice it the first time I saw you there was mystery wrapped around your fingers and silence that sliced the air I did not expect the flash of a helmet I saw for that half split second but as the hands moved on I saw a glimpse of the warrior in you. Tattooed on your feet are the stars of the sea, but you keep them hidden in black socks and high topped rubber shoes maybe you're scared of stepping on broken glass you've cut yourself before, I know but if you keep your feet sealed in walking on familiar paths you'll never know what it feels like to have warm sand in between your toes or on fresh grass, dampen your soles don't be afraid of pain, for I know that there is the warrior in you. Your name means messenger. I looked it up. You don't say as much as the others to me at least, but when you do you leave fingerprints in the air and maybe you think that your words don't matter much but believe me, they've planted seeds and those seeds are growing and your messages don't just come in consonants and syllables, but in the way you open doors and tap shoulders, the way you hold your head, hold it high, because there is the warrior in you. You have lived through many battles I see it in your eyes. I hope your heart doesn't grow heavy when you lose one, because the war's already been won. Learn to trust, soldier, you'll always need backup. And when it seems like dawn will never come, I hope you'll remember the Warrior in you.
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
The warrior in you
The flyers facing there cross-state rivals Pittsburg Penguins Backup goalie emery in net starts of good then it turns for the worset 3-0 penguins i am wide eyed and mouth open stunned then second period flyers score 4 goals one by the capten, two by a deffense men, and the last by a rookie Third period flyers get puck with one minute left the pensguins Pull there goalie and sean couturier shoots it down the ice for a empty net goalie game over flyers forge a 5-3 victory for the record books and prove they are better then the flyers
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Flyers
The boat I'm in My boat is one that makes you feel small. One that you can easily hide in: Small windows, while lots of sun makes it to the deck, It’s shiny, and white, with bronze banisters. If you look close, it's all a shade of aged green. Cedar deck planks shine, But floorboards below are cracking. The meals and entertainment never fail to impress; But the boat staff are ready to walk the plank. Its motor tries it’s best, With white sails, wrapped up tight, dusty from lack of use, unfold into grey billows for backup. Their thin cotton gets tired easily, They often rip when the storms blow. The boat I'm on only passes the beautiful islands, Close enough to see, but too afraid of the shallow waters. The boat I'm on passes pirates daily, Hearing their threats, shouts and banter. The boat I'm on passes cruise liners, wishing one day it too could hold so many happy, relaxed people. The boat I'm on wonders why guests don't stay longer and come more often. The boat I’m in is sick of only serving me. The one who is stuck here aboard, The one who is so bored of this sad boat; Although it could show me the world, It commonly finds itself in little blue lagoons. Dark waters with low hanging trees and thick reeds to get caught up on. Occasionally  guests will take me out, Out to crystal clear, blue waters of the wild ocean, We enjoy the sunshine and the sounds of the sea. But me and my boat always seem to float away. Away from the beautiful blue waters, closer and closer to the murky banks, Think mud wanting to swallow the white edges of my smile, And the sides of my boat.
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
the boat im in
The boat I'm in My boat is one that makes you feel small. One that you can easily hide in: Small windows, while lots of sun makes it to the deck, It’s shiny, and white, with bronze banisters. If you look close, it's all a shade of aged green. Cedar deck planks shine, But floorboards below are cracking. The meals and entertainment never fail to impress; But the boat staff are ready to walk the plank. Its motor tries it’s best, With white sails, wrapped up tight, dusty from lack of use, unfold into grey billows for backup. Their thin cotton gets tired easily, They often rip when the storms blow. The boat I'm on only passes the beautiful islands, Close enough to see, but too afraid of the shallow waters. The boat I'm on passes pirates daily, Hearing their threats, shouts and banter. The boat I'm on passes cruise liners, wishing one day it too could hold so many happy, relaxed people. The boat I'm on wonders why guests don't stay longer and come more often. The boat I’m in is sick of only serving me. The one who is stuck here aboard, The one who is so bored of this sad boat; Although it could show me the world, It commonly finds itself in little blue lagoons. Dark waters with low hanging trees and thick reeds to get caught up on. Occasionally  guests will take me out, Out to crystal clear, blue waters of the wild ocean, We enjoy the sunshine and the sounds of the sea. But me and my boat always seem to float away. Away from the beautiful blue waters, closer and closer to the murky banks, Think mud wanting to swallow the white edges of my smile, And the sides of my boat.
Continue reading...
38
Motion makes me homesick, home makes me motion-sick. I've seen some **** you wouldn't believe in the past month of my young life I'm happy. Makes me want more. I want Guatemala I want Nepal I want the States by trains and motorcycles. I want to make something tall enough to shake hands with god and strong enough to last to the ends of the earth Or longer. I want to give the world back all I've taken from it and all the damage I've done. And then I want to do more. I want to start a revolution, live on a farm, paint a mural, play a symphony, shake hands with the Dalai Lama, write a book, and be home in time for dinner. I want to fold a thousand and one oragami cranes and set them free from space and while they float down to Mauritania and Portugal, to Argentina and Cambodia I want to wish for a reset button. Not to use right away, but just in case **** gets out of hand. So we've got a backup plan. I want to sit in my old age looking down that darkened tunnel and see my own birth pass before my eyes. I want to embrace infinity without soreness or shortcomings, without excuses or refusals I want to watch the universe collapse back in on itself and be part of everything at once. I want more than I can handle. I guess that means I'm young.
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Young
When great aunt Maggie passed away years ago, the one thing I really missed was her angelic voice. The swaggering, sing-song lilt of the mid-Derry accent was as sweet as the confections she used to pass out to us as kids: The inflection, the intonation, and the slight lisp she brought to it was so gloriously unique but was never heard again. I often wish I could go back with a tape recorder to capture it in all its glory and relive how wonderful she was. Now all I have is a untranslatable memory that can't be brought back to even vaguely approximate what it meant to me. And now here I am again with the same obstacle. The same tones, the same inflections albeit through a different light have just been extinguished before me. This time there was no digital device rushing in to capture our time before it ran out. No instinct for preservation was forthcoming - we were too busy having fun & 'being here now'. No, once again I am bereft: All I I have is here (in my heart) and and here (in my head) The loved sounds I miss will always resound there albeit without backup Voices lost but not forgotten.
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Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
Voices
Today someone laryngospasmed and dropped to 65% Before I opened their airway Last week, same thing, except 55% I’m finding myself increasingly dispassionate and unconcerned during these episodes Externally it would appear I’m skating by Skin of my teeth Brushing off increased agitation by the OR staff Watching the patient’s life bouncing on the roulette wheel as I tilt the table ........Come on red ................ But it’s not like that. I have a plan. Always a backup. Tertiary options. A, B,C, and [God forbid] D. So far, C and beyond is unknown territory. I’m concerned with my confidence. Too much?
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Death and near death experiences for the almighty dollar
let me tell you, do not stay in a relationship that makes you questioning your worth, or a relationship that feels like a big question mark. you deserve someone who loves you without looking back, someone who does not make you a second best or option, someone who does not involve you in the comparison game. because you are not a void filler, you are not a backup plan, you are not a second choice. let me tell you your worth and what you deserve; you are a galaxy with all its beauty, you are all the best parts about art. you deserve someone who is willing to give the world to you.
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Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 11:13 PM UTC
you are not a second option.
How did it start you might ask?   The story began when I was 16.   She knew just how to manipulate me & so did Tim. This was also the age I lost my virginity to him. Lured toward the lust I felt inside. Which was why I had so much PRIDE. She dated me & some other guy. All along I was just her backup plan. Keep in mind, I was a 10th grader in High School. Going out to parties, smoking a bunch of cigarettes & **** Nothing mattered. Which left me feeling more alone than I ever did. Didn't get the privilege to walk down the aisle with the rest of my classmates. Expelled. How can God forgive a misfit such as me? How undeserving I was. Rebellion. Plenty of drugs & clubs - my personal favorite was Pulse Night Club. Who was I when I wasn't with women? This was my life for 10 years. Later on, I watched a spoken word video called Jesus > Religion. For a moment it clicked, or so I thought. Evidently realizing I was a religious fraud. Once upon a time, I was among the dead. Now I am fully alive in Yeshua. I may never forget, even if He already has. As far as the East is from the West.   Relentlessly pursuing me in my brokenness. He has made me whole & new again. I urge you to pick-up your cross. The battle has already been won.
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
Heaven for the Sinner
This is going to be painful for me. These folks think they're so heavy, evil, dark, and mysterious. (Ahem) Next to the crab, you are one of the biggest wimps the Universe ever farted out. Don't even ask for backup in a fight with these people, their excuse is, "I wasn't really sure what was going on!" With your low energy, you can barely fly unless you have been a constant train wreck, I may throw you scrap of respect. You just barely have the *** department down and I have kicked many a stinger out of bed. Emotional inside like a bag of **** lit on fire! You can't escape from the bag of your own **** show. No wonder you're so angry, all you do is repeatedly sting yourself to death. What a stupid species you are, indeed! Advice: Stop with the whole tough guy/girl front. Everyone knows that when someone throws their hands back at you, you run away and cry in the corner like the little **** you are. So quit with the heavy and join Cancer.
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
SCORPIO: OCTOBER 23rd-NOVEMBER 21st
Afterthought (Poem by Serenus) Yes, there is an issue That needs to be addressed Lately I’ve been feeling Like you’ve placed me as 2nd Best Funny, I never knew I was competing in a contest Oh my beautiful prize, was it all lies? -Time to confess If you wanted to be” just friends” You should’ve stated your un-desires But you had an ulterior motive -The backup plan of a liar Keeping me in your back pocket Playing me for a fool Selling me sweet dreams While you had your cake-and ate it too Telling me what I wanted to hear Lying to my face If things didn't work-out With choice #1 You kept me around..."Just in case" Lost in my own mind Is there something I missed? I thought I was first in line But you had me on a waiting list Passion in every kiss What a ***** little trick It makes me wonder… What kind of "special gifts" Did your “first pick” -get? Loving you was a battle You don’t see how hard I fought? Discarding me as your “Plan B” A second hand -afterthought
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Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
Afterthought
traffic backup,     roadwork signs. drive down road,     little houses treed yards.     brown leaves, first sign of fall.     kids about to go back to school\parents     return to work. rolling on the seconds go,     ticking by faster each year so it     seems. cars piled up,      to slow, won't go. tiny dancers in the      wind blow on to car windows,      another sign of coming Harvest Season.      people resist the clear trademarks      enjoying the fall, but resenting the      winter. I can't understand      New England birds, you're housed in      cocoons like caterpillars that guard against the      elements, not freezer coldness      that animals call home. I'm not sure the memo      reached you, but this isn't the      South. trees like snakes,      shed their rainbow skins, as     "Old Man Winter" kicks in. the sound of       leaves crunching, cold on the floor under foot.      Autumn's death has no memorial,      birds flying South a eulogy.
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
Ode To Turning Seasons
So you have turned me into a rock. A quiet, still, hard, cold rock. I’m burning to speak And tell you how I really feel— That I can’t stomach you. But I know I board the plane in a few hours, And for this, I find peace— Enough peace to remain the rock. From you, I have gained nothing but tolerance, And the knowledge that you should never travel to meet someone you met online— At least not without a backup plan. I can’t fake a headache or the flu and ask to be politely excused. I so wish I could—grab my bag, apologize sincerely, and run for the door. I would think it would be worth giving you my opinion— just to appease me. But in the same thought an overpowering realization— that even you are not worth that energy. You might possibly even thrive on it— Like a roach thrives on Raid once the poison has lost its ability to throw the bug on it’s back , kicking. So I instead will bite my tongue, And do my best to keep my eye rolling to a minimum… when I’m in your peripheral…
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
online Dating