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"backups" poems
So come everybody throw ya hands In the air for me If y'all feelin this jubilee O yea so lets get back to the actions Satisfaction Of celebrities got ya main attraction No actin I'm packing Gats to baseball bats and who dat? Call me poetry wack splat Goes through ya back bullet hole Filljn those Empty spots ya can't touc what's hot I got reps like birdie Above the rim lace blunt with traces Of v slims Who can stop me if my potency Is near infinite I'm embedded in ya melon eternally Too cool for y'all to see I be With this jubilee a juvenile Born in the wild never smiled as child All I wanted was a few toys from micky ds Could barely afford cheese Make tracks sneeze when I breath Got thick chicks from here all the way to Belize Please don't be ignorant Just throw ya hands up to this anthem Ya can't phantom The jubilee is slammin- Come on Not that the time is right Refocused my sight the black knight Knocking outsights now ya braille as **** for trynA **** with The m o b s t e r ghetto star All hands on the r Ruger luger quick to shoot ya scoop ya Out of the scene like ice cream One man team Don't need a **** near friend in need Please believe I got backups like traffic Hit the skins is automatic cuz static To radio station they hate me Cuz I don't participate in ******** I'm concerned with These ***** *** punks running politics Donald Trump I gotta automatic thAt loves to dump Throw his *** in the trunk Puff skunks I'm slammin on the gas Like an alley oopp dunk full of ***** Dikes to lesbians all want a piece of me I ain't cocky but stocky like Rocky Picket pock me ill find thee Restin peace to my enemies That couldn't get to me I'm hater proof so y'all just throw ya hands in the air for me And represent this jubilee ahh. Come on
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Jubilee
So come everybody throw ya hands In the air for me If y'all feelin this jubilee O yea so lets get back to the actions Satisfaction Of celebrities got ya main attraction No actin I'm packing Gats to baseball bats and who dat? Call me poetry wack splat Goes through ya back bullet hole Filljn those Empty spots ya can't touc what's hot I got reps like birdie Above the rim lace blunt with traces Of v slims Who can stop me if my potency Is near infinite I'm embedded in ya melon eternally Too cool for y'all to see I be With this jubilee a juvenile Born in the wild never smiled as child All I wanted was a few toys from micky ds Could barely afford cheese Make tracks sneeze when I breath Got thick chicks from here all the way to Belize Please don't be ignorant Just throw ya hands up to this anthem Ya can't phantom The jubilee is slammin- Come on Not that the time is right Refocused my sight the black knight Knocking outsights now ya braille as **** for trynA **** with The m o b s t e r ghetto star All hands on the r Ruger luger quick to shoot ya scoop ya Out of the scene like ice cream One man team Don't need a **** near friend in need Please believe I got backups like traffic Hit the skins is automatic cuz static To radio station they hate me Cuz I don't participate in ******** I'm concerned with These ***** *** punks running politics Donald Trump I gotta automatic thAt loves to dump Throw his *** in the trunk Puff skunks I'm slammin on the gas Like an alley oopp dunk full of ***** Dikes to lesbians all want a piece of me I ain't cocky but stocky like Rocky Picket pock me ill find thee Restin peace to my enemies That couldn't get to me I'm hater proof so y'all just throw ya hands in the air for me And represent this jubilee ahh. Come on
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57
a thousand years ago, wrote a poem called “why I always carry tissues”  - a labor of love to mine own toddlers misadventures, requiring love covered in tissues so soft, yet an ironclad coating of natural substantive parenting useful for tearing eyes, running noses, and the cuts of living outdoors joyously children grow older and oft that means, they seek not your counsel, and if offered, politely ignored, for so it goes tween fathers and sons then one summer days you receive an observation, a datapoint that irradiates, a quiet confirmation that not everything you’ve said and done has gone astray a young’un of “almost ten,” informs her father, around the luncheon table of three generations, that her foot is hurting; the son, now the father, diagnosis renders, a blister, which will require a protective custody that will protect the child’s feet from the ravages of furious Shell Beach fun, or the rough of a Manhattan sidewalk I watch with a joy so quiet and so overwhelming, as the son-father reaches into a cargo pocket, producing not one but two bandaids, for life requires backups for there are other babes about, who at moments notice, produce scrapes and cuts of ever greater consequence for each year they age his wife renders me overjoyed, when she dryly observe how certain children are lucky that their father always carries bandaids, a new factoid, for me, an unknown that glistens like a wet shell now my eyes tearing, for a message in a bandaid, or a tissue no matter which, is a certified proof, somehow a message got through the clutter, marked “well received,” that loving well requires an oh so very hard attention to details, and that deep pockets are repositories of good notions, handed down generations June 24, 2021 Shell Beach
0
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 5:07 AM UTC
Shell Beach: how you know you raised them just right enough
a thousand years ago, wrote a poem called “why I always carry tissues”  - a labor of love to mine own toddlers misadventures, requiring love covered in tissues so soft, yet an ironclad coating of natural substantive parenting useful for tearing eyes, running noses, and the cuts of living outdoors joyously children grow older and oft that means, they seek not your counsel, and if offered, politely ignored, for so it goes tween fathers and sons then one summer days you receive an observation, a datapoint that irradiates, a quiet confirmation that not everything you’ve said and done has gone astray a young’un of “almost ten,” informs her father, around the luncheon table of three generations, that her foot is hurting; the son, now the father, diagnosis renders, a blister, which will require a protective custody that will protect the child’s feet from the ravages of furious Shell Beach fun, or the rough of a Manhattan sidewalk I watch with a joy so quiet and so overwhelming, as the son-father reaches into a cargo pocket, producing not one but two bandaids, for life requires backups for there are other babes about, who at moments notice, produce scrapes and cuts of ever greater consequence for each year they age his wife renders me overjoyed, when she dryly observe how certain children are lucky that their father always carries bandaids, a new factoid, for me, an unknown that glistens like a wet shell now my eyes tearing, for a message in a bandaid, or a tissue no matter which, is a certified proof, somehow a message got through the clutter, marked “well received,” that loving well requires an oh so very hard attention to details, and that deep pockets are repositories of good notions, handed down generations June 24, 2021 Shell Beach
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42
I pity you because you"ll never truly know the feelings you evoke Searching for the perfect words and overcoming all my nerves Finally mustered up the courage but to you I'm nothing but a joke To you a few seconds worth of thought is all a man deserves Invite me with your eyes until I finally make my move Then you act surprised with your ego"s point to prove Or else she's interested, engaged, polite, and very nice But ladies please listen close to this next piece of advice Instead of leading us all on and wasting both our valuable time Would it be so hard to just say no, would that really be a crime Tell me you have a boyfriend, I don't even care if its a lie And give me credit for the courage that it even took to try Take it as a complement and just for a second wear my shoes All that we could be was dreamt and I woke up with the blues You burned the blueprints, a beautiful skyscraper was to be built I looked for clues and hints, now I pray you can deal with the guilt I envy you, so lucky to be blessed with the ability to ignore Sweep us under the filthy rug and strike us deep at our core To be thrown into the junkyard that any man would abhor You forgot we're also human beings, so I really must implore Give us a fake number at least it will make us laugh At least our glass will still be close to holding half I understand your point of view, I know it must be hard So many offers every day, always keeping up your guard Deciding which ones to let in and which ones to discard All while trying your best to not get emotionally scarred But believe it or not we have feelings too and hope is like a drug So stop our digging right away before we have our own grave dug So I'll say a prayer for you if you truly lack the empathy to really care Seconds of unnecessary negligence multiply into years of utter dispare Quite an extensive list of backups just in case your heart begins to tear The next life we'll all be roadrunners and you a coyote, karma's only fair
0
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Thought...less
I pity you because you"ll never truly know the feelings you evoke Searching for the perfect words and overcoming all my nerves Finally mustered up the courage but to you I'm nothing but a joke To you a few seconds worth of thought is all a man deserves Invite me with your eyes until I finally make my move Then you act surprised with your ego"s point to prove Or else she's interested, engaged, polite, and very nice But ladies please listen close to this next piece of advice Instead of leading us all on and wasting both our valuable time Would it be so hard to just say no, would that really be a crime Tell me you have a boyfriend, I don't even care if its a lie And give me credit for the courage that it even took to try Take it as a complement and just for a second wear my shoes All that we could be was dreamt and I woke up with the blues You burned the blueprints, a beautiful skyscraper was to be built I looked for clues and hints, now I pray you can deal with the guilt I envy you, so lucky to be blessed with the ability to ignore Sweep us under the filthy rug and strike us deep at our core To be thrown into the junkyard that any man would abhor You forgot we're also human beings, so I really must implore Give us a fake number at least it will make us laugh At least our glass will still be close to holding half I understand your point of view, I know it must be hard So many offers every day, always keeping up your guard Deciding which ones to let in and which ones to discard All while trying your best to not get emotionally scarred But believe it or not we have feelings too and hope is like a drug So stop our digging right away before we have our own grave dug So I'll say a prayer for you if you truly lack the empathy to really care Seconds of unnecessary negligence multiply into years of utter dispare Quite an extensive list of backups just in case your heart begins to tear The next life we'll all be roadrunners and you a coyote, karma's only fair
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32
see this cavity in my chest this giant gaping hole shattered shards of stone litter the ****** bottom bits and pieces millions of cold little slivers look at how the pain and love alike ripped from my chest my heart has been broken up and removed from the huge space good thing I have some backups in the freezer
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
backups in the freezer
I’ve been backstabbed I’ve been backhanded I’ve been backflipping money I've been backtracking destiny I’ve been backed into a corner I’ve been brought back I’ve been traveling backroads I’ve been treated with the backlash I’ve been left alone with no backups • They’ve told me to backdown I’m back on the ground Dugout deep in their backyard But I learn from the backwards See me now in my new backdrop I’m working harder then ever, I can’t feel the backache They want me to backup but my moves don’t backtrack So they now pull out a gun out of their backpack They’re here to take me out back But this time I’m standing up, I now have a backbone So I fire back
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Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 9:12 PM UTC
My Back
(2/25/12) I have put myself on a quest To turn my life around and do my best So many things that go on in life And having to make a sacrifice. There is nothing in life that comes easy you know And you have to struggle and put on a show The show of life is on a stage And there is so much to gain. We are all actors in this game of life And reaching our goal is mighty nice. But most of us are just backups In all that we do, and we never seem to follow thru. So I am on this quest to follow all that my heart may say For I know that it will lead me the right way. It will open up doors that I’ve yet to open So that I may see all the beauties inside And there will be nothing that life can hide. Life without love is unimaginable and it can never be If you try to hide your love from me. Love is the stage where we all gather To find out what truly matters. Join me in this quest , this search for love For it was sent from up above We need each other like the plants need water Like the sun needs the moon Let us not end it so soon. I love you and I know that you love me And this is the way it was meant to be. My quest is now over for my search is through I guess I knew that when I saw you.
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Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
my quest
I don't sleep I hold on to my bed The backups must go My fingers dig into my sheets I want sleep.forget.melt into night. But What if something goes wrong? I may need them It is only information Limbo Drealand That's all And if I try hard enough Maybe I can forget the dark place where They We Are...
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Tossing
two long weeks with dial tones and texts that won’t deliver I deleted your number just to add it back Burned your pictures just to look for my backups Thursday afternoon, I’m staring at the window thinking of you I’m realizing that you are gone That the leaves on the tree still flutter The pavement will still glitter People will carry on The world will keep spinning The clouds will keep raining The sun will keep rising And so will I, so will I but you text me that night You tell me you’re sorry that you’ve made a mistake I’m not too far gone to disagree anymore So I turn the radio up in my car I push my hand out the window reaching for the trees I let the wind blow my air And I let you go oh how I let you go as I learn how to love myself more than I love the idea of you
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
goodbyes are broken records
I wanna take your pain away. Make you feel everything is okay. Wipe your tears away; Every single day. Don't trip. Baby, I'm here to stay. I don't need anything but your smile. That beautiful smile. That smile that can light up a room, no matter how dark. That smile that can brighten up a day, no matter the weather. The smile that can solve any problem, no matter how stark. The smile that can hold anybody down, without any tether. I'm talking about the one that makes my pain go away. The one that makes me want to stay. The one I will never trade for anything. The one I know that when I have it, I have everything. Baby, You have to know that these words are true. I don't ever want to be with nobody, but you. No backups, no fallbacks, no side boos. That smile is all I need from you.
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Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 6:59 AM UTC
Your Smile
surfeit- stuck on the clipboard, shadow of muse long shadier than many counterfeit What good did I lose, when I lost a day, when I lost yesterday, man, the best hold on the whole idea, we ever had, duty we share in the world that we occupy, we inhabit, so whatever good we do gets done, one day at a time, in this wilderness, aspirational inspiration is as fleeting as a thought never written, but, if you caught the fleeting thing, and wrote in the most flowing effluently efficacious way, beautiful zone shone known knowns and lost it to a literal glitch, an old forgotten buffer flush lost in transfer from chaos, through some kind of standard query language patented Microsoft gadget, for which, now, I must wish a fix, a certain deja vuish recovery that must be in here, some place I must seek to find, or, leave it go, one day, what the hell, the nonsense of that as a question or an expletive at a surprise, a wrinkle a surfeit patience fabrication, too compleatly much idle time, too little aim at being seen at the scene of the last confident lay down, almost all I'll go rythms that we hear, after sufficient trust exposure surprise is never the plan, value for value idle words for idle time. A matched wisdom, seeing the worth of the effort to be doing over, ever put right where the surfeit nothing was… put in place holding peace pose So, now, then sad, sorta, not bad, or mad. At peace, permanence advantage, eternally true when you know you knew backups exist, or believed you knew… tov ra, towb ra' gnosis, da'ath chabad advantage wisdom, is the kingdom of truth, which, it is writ, the God Jesus worships, the spirit of truth, in truth must be taken at true value Faire and far dhe put here. Say that tree holds witness, with our wits about us we do more thinking than other doing so… Thinking, that other day… deemed written off, but loved, didn't we survive yesterday, ain't this so, so we might make peace, enough to fill the Boötes Void. Using poems read once imagined twice.
0
Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC
Coping with lost lines and one whole day
surfeit- stuck on the clipboard, shadow of muse long shadier than many counterfeit What good did I lose, when I lost a day, when I lost yesterday, man, the best hold on the whole idea, we ever had, duty we share in the world that we occupy, we inhabit, so whatever good we do gets done, one day at a time, in this wilderness, aspirational inspiration is as fleeting as a thought never written, but, if you caught the fleeting thing, and wrote in the most flowing effluently efficacious way, beautiful zone shone known knowns and lost it to a literal glitch, an old forgotten buffer flush lost in transfer from chaos, through some kind of standard query language patented Microsoft gadget, for which, now, I must wish a fix, a certain deja vuish recovery that must be in here, some place I must seek to find, or, leave it go, one day, what the hell, the nonsense of that as a question or an expletive at a surprise, a wrinkle a surfeit patience fabrication, too compleatly much idle time, too little aim at being seen at the scene of the last confident lay down, almost all I'll go rythms that we hear, after sufficient trust exposure surprise is never the plan, value for value idle words for idle time. A matched wisdom, seeing the worth of the effort to be doing over, ever put right where the surfeit nothing was… put in place holding peace pose So, now, then sad, sorta, not bad, or mad. At peace, permanence advantage, eternally true when you know you knew backups exist, or believed you knew… tov ra, towb ra' gnosis, da'ath chabad advantage wisdom, is the kingdom of truth, which, it is writ, the God Jesus worships, the spirit of truth, in truth must be taken at true value Faire and far dhe put here. Say that tree holds witness, with our wits about us we do more thinking than other doing so… Thinking, that other day… deemed written off, but loved, didn't we survive yesterday, ain't this so, so we might make peace, enough to fill the Boötes Void. Using poems read once imagined twice.
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