"bec" poems
.
•they'd
come at night•
these footsteps are
never light• always
heavy and running ar-
ound•...they are annoy-
ingly creepy..., these aw-
ful sounds•every night,
after eleven without
fail•into rooms,
us they would
tail• making a
din overhead
•when all
should
be quiet inste-
ad•like barefooted
children i would ***
ume...•wandering and
exploring into every ro-
om•...could they come
wilfully•from the cou-
ple who live above
me•i very much
doubt so•bec-
ause this much
i know...•that
the neigh-
bour up-
stairs, they're
old•frail and meek;
never bold•they'd re-
tire early•after late, ne-
ver a party•now... there
the feet go again•drivi-
ng me almost insane•
on my ceiling now,
they're pacing•
they know i kn-
ow and they are
playing•these
invisible
feet•ne-
ver would we
meet•one thing for
sure•this is not a friv-
olous tour•determined
to tell•that they exist
as well•nothing i'm
certain but it is clear
•i think they really
like it here...•
•i don't think
they're leavi-
ng•they're
bent on
staying...•
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
being a good student is always one of the reasons
being a good student is one of the reasons why im a really inconsiderate friend, apparently
because i dont share my answers
because i dont break the rules
and because i dont hate going to school
i just dont have the heart to tell them that school is actually my quiet
that school is my rest from life
that school is my escape
that this is how it was
being a good student is one of the reasons why im an unreliable brother, it seems
because i dont tend to their needs when im home
because i dont help them with their homework
and because i dont have any time left for them bec im focusing on my studies
i just dont think they'll want to hear that im not doing any of it for them because no one did those for me
that no one made me dinner at age 13
that no one ever taught me how to answer my homework
that this is how it was
being a good student is one of the reasons why im a irresponsible son, i believe
because i dont ever want go to family outings
because i dont prioritize them over school meetings
and because im barely home from sleeping over my classmates' houses just to finish a ******* output
i just dont think he'd appreciate me telling him i never felt like a part of that family
that i never felt like he'd prioritize me over anything
that i never once felt like coming back to this house was the same as coming back home
that this is how it was
that this is how it is
that im so sick of everyone saying im
an inconsiderate friend
or an unreliable brother
specially an irresponsible son
so if the only thing im good at are quizzes and projects and tests and deadlines
then i sure as hell am gonna keep at it
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
.
**•••• ••••••••• ••••
•our wrin- kled hides only co- nceal the
anguish•that resonates with conviction amongst
my herd•this humanly greed that might cause us
to perish•what's valuable to you, we find incredu-
lously absurd•embedded in our trunks lay mill-
enias of lineage... • hidden in our eyes bec-
koned the change in history •in our
•• beating hearts is ••
the longing to
turn the im-
possible
page•of
hapless
chapt-
ers w-
rit-ten
with the
points**
of
bloodstained
ivory•
.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
.
Ho w
about I come
to your place to
night,so I can sho
w you the growth
ofmy natural log
I'm not being ob
tuse, you are be
ing a cute girl . Y
ou mustbe the sq
are root of -1 bec
ause you can't be
real. The derivat
ive ofmy love for
you is 0, because
my lovefor you is
constant. Why d
on't we use some
Fourier analysis
on our relation
ship and reduce
to a series of Sim
ple per io doc
Fun ctions. I wish i was
your calculus home work, because then
I'd be hard and you 'd be doing me on yo
ur desk.Hey, baby want to squeeze my
Theorem while I poly your
n o m i a l
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
. A
Tiny hat
My forefathers
Humble beginnings
I somewhat envy them bec
Ause then,they had their own styl
E with self made values
And rules not trying to
Copy others but living
in utmost grace and si
mplicity.though I woul
dn't want to live back;
in those days,I respect
The strength of my forefathers
Their intellect and wisdom,yes.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Muse Reine
Tu veux et tu exiges que je me retienne
Que je ne m'exhibe pas au tout venant
Et que je ne bande que sur ordre exprès de toi
Le cachet de la poste faisant foi
A la minute heure seconde que tu t'es choisie
Pour me déguster à distance.
Tu dis que c'est la présence et non l'absence qui te stimule
Et tu me dis que je te manque
et que ma présence volcanique
Te couvre de toutes parts
en dépit de la distance.
Moi je m'interroge
Et je pense que c'est cette absence qui te met en transe
Et je veux t'aimer profondément dans cette distance
Comme tu n'as jamais été aimée. désirée, choyée, goûtée, savourée
Léchée, embrassée, pénétrée, visitée, hantée, caressée, avalée, touchée
Consommée, étreinte, engrossée, jouie, priée, chantée, dénudée
Comblée, tétée, mordillée, mouillées, aspergé, respectée
Mais pour cela il faut que ton âme et chair soient à nu
Et la nudité dans la distance passe par la photographie ou la vidéo
Et si tu veux que l'oiseau te respecte
Il faut que tu le fasses voler et siffler d'aise à ta vue
Car il n'aspire qu'à cela soir et matin :
Voler au-dessus de tes collines et tes plaines
Plonger dans tes lacs et rivières
Nager dans tes eaux poissonneuses
Plonger son bec dans ta chair ouverte et complice
Et en tirer des petits poissons multicolores et chanteurs
Chuchoter à ton oreille
Les mots qui te font fondre de rires et de désir
Ma muse précieuse et généreuse...
Alors pour t'être agréable ma bien-aimée
C 'est promis juré craché
Désormais je ne banderai plus que des yeux
Je ne banderai plus que des lèvres
Tu pourras me bander les yeux et me bâillonner les lèvres
Tant que tu voudras
Je banderai encore
Et si cela ne suffit pas
Pour te prouver mon amour
Je banderai aussi des oreilles et du nez
Je banderai des mains et des doigts de pieds
Je banderai de ma langue
Mi pangolin mi orphie
Je banderai de mon ombre
Une fois deux fois trois fois
Autant de fois qu'il le faudra
Ce ne sera jamais dans le vide
Car je banderai en toi
Et même l'air qui t'environne
Le soleil et la lune banderont de concert
Jusqu'à ce que nous soyons orphies nues, chair et arêtes en rut,
Sublimement réunis pour notre danse farandole et tantrique
Enfin retrouvée.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC
At weekends in mid-August if the weather sunny
A girl dresses in bright fluorescent pink socks
The sort sold three in a pack at the local market
Puts on her best T- bar white shoes and is ready.
A family outing which included a younger brother;
And a bundle of toys, cricket bat and picnic bags
The train went from Tooting Bec to Mordon station
And from there a tiring walk was undertaken.
Delightful it was with the cow- parsley and crickets
Red Admiral butterflies and leaf blossom on the trees
The siblings, only eighteen months apart, thought
They could barely wait to arrive at their special spot.
And so they did, well before one o’clock, in high spirits
Racing the river as it flowed hidden behind iron railings
Nettles in the tall grass and air scented meadow- sweet
To the trunk improvised seat by The Wandle .
Love Mary x
'
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:04 AM UTC
this is
a poem of a
bird, a duck to be tota-
lly specific .Although
there might
not seem any-
thing that duck-ish about this poem as you read
it, it will soon occur to you (if it has not already) that
this poem is really very special since it is not only
about a duck but it is in the shape of a duck...
You see this duck is called Gershwin and he
likes splashing in puddles so that is
what makes
he , him
does happy
all bec-
this is ... day ause
supposed to be a long . he
puddle .Yes it is and and that , is a duck!
a ....... too ........
........... ....... ... .
splash
look below......
......
...... ..................
......................
..............
.......
.
* this is the most weirdest poem i
have ever written and its just so RANDOM*
;p
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
Bec every time someone's selfie is in my feed
And I see how beautiful his/her smile is
I find myself trying to mimic that radiant smile
And wonder every single time
How come I couldn't do so anymore.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 4:47 AM UTC
What the hell is life
I don't knew wether cut my self with knife
or wait for u 2 b my wife,
but nor i can cut nor wait
bec. It is 2 late,
(there is already some1 who love me more then u could ever)
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
I pretend over and over pretend, that the electricity humming on the underground is the sound of a Spanish guitar.
Mind the gap,mind the gap is some gangsta man rap designed only to trap me.
Hold onto the strap watch what I see
the tubelines are burning the brains and in trains we're on fire,
Finsbury dark in the park and Marylebone is a stop on my way home at the end of the track.
I hate it
I hate it but tomorrow I'll take it again
one more refrain from the strings
one more rap from the man and his gap
one more station to see,
in pretending I'll be
in a sec,
Tooting Bec.
There are shoals,not of fish but of moles,blindly
digging their way to the end of each day and the tube is the way they will go.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
La nuit. La pluie. Un ciel blafard que déchiquette
De flèches et de tours à jour la silhouette
D'une ville gothique éteinte au lointain gris.
La plaine. Un gibet plein de pendus rabougris
Secoués par le bec avide des corneilles
Et dansant dans l'air noir des gigues nonpareilles,
Tandis, que leurs pieds sont la pâture des loups.
Quelques buissons d'épine épars, et quelques houx
Dressant l'horreur de leur feuillage à droite, à gauche,
Sur le fuligineux fouillis d'un fond d'ébauche.
Et puis, autour de trois livides prisonniers
Qui vont pieds nus, un gros de hauts pertuisaniers
En marche, et leurs fers droits, comme des fers de herse,
Luisent à contresens des lances de l'averse.
1.1k
rainbows of oil
where your f ingers t ouch
leave mar ks on marble
leave ma rks on slate
leave waves in wa ter
and I know you can touch the surface bec
ause I pulled you back from goi
ng deep
before you fell too hard to rea
ch the bottom
--
--
--
--
I imagined your fingers reaching up
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
*** I
listen when i-
n many moods
bec- a-
use- it
he- lps
to clear
m- y mind.
music alway-
s makes thin-
gs better. I-
t lets me e- s-
cape my t- o-
rtured r- e-
ality. T- he calm it br-
ings makes me feel safe, and t-
he st- rength i- t gives
me h- elps m- e to st-
and tall. It helps
me ke- e- p my
hea- d held
high, even when my h-
eart is breaking.
It
it ai-
ds me in e- x-
pressing my- se-
lf. It ke-
eps me sane. Music
is my safe
place.***
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
It seems I've been travelling around
Through the word of mouth
Look at the way they speculate
Whether I'm gay or straight
Some say that I am autistic
Used to be so optimistic
That we could unite and harmonise
But it seems we are too busy
Pointing out each other's flaws
And fighting needless wars
When did I become
The headline of everyone's day?
Why do I seem to be the topic
In the stories, they spread
It seems I'm the centre focus
Once again
I'm starting to question
Will this ever end?
What will they think of next?
What do I think of Bec and her new boyfriend?
It seems like everybody's
Watching every step I take
And hanging off of every word I say
And maybe I'm a little crazy
But could you really blame me?
They think I'm an attention seeker baby
When did I become
The headline of everyone's day?
Why do I seem to be the topic
In the stories, they spread
It seems I'm the centre focus
Once again
I'm starting to question
Will this ever end?
It seems to me
That I seem to be
The talk of the town
And all the rumours
Are circulating around
Everyone's questioning me
And my sexuality
Who I'm with, what I am
What I feel, what he writes,
Is it real?
When did I become
The headline of everyone's day?
Why do I seem to be the topic
In the stories, they spread
It seems I'm the centre focus
Once again
I'm starting to question
Will this ever end?
©2018 Written By Benji James
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
Magsasampung taon na kitang mahal, mahal.
(I've been in love with you for almost ten years, love)
Ang tigas na siguro ng mga binti mo kakatakbo mo sa isipan ko.
(You're thigh muscles toughened bec you always run on my mind)
Pero mas masaya sana kung alam mo, mahal, na mahal kita.
(But I could be happier, love, if you just know that i love you.)
Pero di pa, di ko pa kayang sabihin sayo, baka siguro balang araw, kapag lahat ay huli na.
(But no, i still cant tell you, maybe someday, someday when its all too late.)
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
so there once was this boy and someone on ask. fm asked him the following
"I'm gonna steal your ex girlfriend bud"
here was his reply
"well then there's a few things you need to know. her favorite songs are I saw god today, if heaven wasn't so far away, you are my sunshine, butterfly kisses, and she wants to dance to I loved her first at her wedding with her dad. her favorite colors are Blue, Green, and Purple. Her favorite candy is Mini eggs, jelly beans, chocolate almonds. She likes her bed more then anyone else's, she likes affection in public, she likes hand holding, biting her lower lip and putting your hand on her cheek while kissing, she doesn't want a **** she wants someone sweet, she likes roots pants more then anything, she'll always loves you in her best and worst times, she's unique in every way possible. She's perfect, her hair smells like flowers in the morning, her hands are always warm and soft, Starbucks is her favorite vanilla bean frapachino is what she wants, she likes surprise visits, make sure you compliment her, tell her how pretty she is, tell her how nice she looked that day, tell her how perfect of a person she is, make her smile that beautiful smile. Do not tickle her when she's upset because you'll just make her more mad and it hurts her, give her a big hug and rub her back and she'll be okay. Do not call her boo or bae, call her bec or becca, and if your being serious with her call her rebecca. She'll know your serious then. She likes it when you do the little things like rubbing your thumb over her thumb while holding hands or paying attention to her and showing her that you want to listen to her and be there with her. Watch the movies she likes, even if there sappy and girly she likes them and it makes her happy laying with you and watching them. she likes pogos and grilled cheese. Make sure you take pictures with her because that's what gets her through tough times is the pictures of you and her. Take her for walks on the water, there's no other place more she likes then to be on the water. stay up late with her at night when shes upset and talk to her on the phone. And I want you to treat her right. Treat her like a princess because she deserves to be treated like it. Don't ***** up with her and break her heart because she's the best girl you'll ever meet."
and that my friend is how to win a girls heart all over again. the fact that this guy payed attention to all this melts my heart
take notes boys
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
Specialallity her performance measures the distance from my eyes not deservin another head loopin we thankfully illistrait today to my own creative jesus christ fable make make up don't mess with I don't snap well today Idid I regulated SPM his defendent is one ****** off muth grow he's still learner in court that bithe not? 50cent i guranette it mother ****** bithe well than who is my defendent supposed to be in court o i am not supposed to have one bec
HELLO WORLD!
Posted on April 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
Tout seul au plus profond d'un bois,
Dans un fouillis de ronce et d'herbe,
Se dresse, oublié, mais superbe,
Un grand vase du temps des rois.
Beau de matière et pur de ligne,
Il a pour anses deux béliers
Qu'un troupeau d'amours familiers
Enlace d'une souple vigne.
À ses bords, autrefois tout blancs,
La mousse noire append son givre ;
Une lèpre aux couleurs de cuivre
Étoile et dévore ses flancs.
Son poids a fait pencher sa base
Où gît un amas de débris,
Car il a ses angles meurtris,
Mais il tient bon, l'orgueilleux vase.
Il songe : « Autour de moi tout dort,
Que fait le monde ? Je m'ennuie,
Mon cratère est plein d'eau de pluie,
D'ombre, de rouille et de bois mort.
« Où donc aujourd'hui se promène
Le flot soyeux des courtisans ?
Je n'ai pas vu figure humaine
À mon pied depuis bien des ans. »
Pendant qu'il regrette sa gloire,
Perdu dans cet exil obscur,
Un oiseau par un trou d'azur
S'abat sur ses lèvres pour boire.
« Holà ! Manant du ciel, dis-moi,
Toi devant qui l'horizon s'ouvre,
Sais-tu ce qui se passe au Louvre ?
Je n'entends plus parler du roi.
- Ah ! Tu prends, à l'heure où nous sommes,
Dit l'autre, un bien tardif souci !
Rien n'est donc venu jusqu'ici
Des branle-bas qu'on faits les hommes ?
- Parfois un soubresaut brutal,
Des rumeurs extraordinaires,
Comme de souterrains tonnerres
Font tressaillir mon piédestal.
- C'est l'écho de leurs grands vacarmes :
Plus une tour, plus un clocher
Où l'oiseau puisse en paix nicher ;
Partout l'incendie et les armes !
« J'ai naguère, à Paris, en vain
Heurté du bec les vitres closes,
Nulle part, même aux lèvres roses,
La moindre miette de vrai pain.
« Aux mansardes des tuileries
Je logeais, le printemps passé,
Mais les flammes m'en ont chassé,
Ce n'était que feux et tueries.
« Sur le front du génie ailé
Qui plane où sombra la bastille,
J'ai voulu poser ma famille,
Mais cet asile a chancelé.
« Des murs de granit qu'on restaure
Nous sommes l'un et l'autre exclus,
Là le temps des palais n'est plus,
Et celui des nids, pas encore. »
904
the disappearance of
lightning-bugs-scares
the little dark
place
behind my rib-
cage.
it twangs with
a need of a flutter
and a beat.beating.trying
flying- sensation of wind-under
a beetles wingss. a crea
ture. of peculiarloveliness that
twinges into theee word bee.t.ling
the disappearance of lightning.
bugss. I’m afraid to say. Is bec-
ause… I i I swallowed
them
into
and swallowed them
into the dark of
my chest.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Til when will I snap out of this. I havent been reading or writing poetry like I used to. I'm so mad at myself and of everything bec it feels listless and aimless. I love what I used to do and given the chance I'll pay a leg for it if I could. But that passion seems so far away I only ever dream about sleeping or not really giving a **** and the days pass on like fleeting whispers and I hear nothing, I know of nothing. How did anyone live with this preposterous piece of **** I'd like to understand how because my days of tolerating it are dwindling down into a deep desire of wanting to see something burn and smell the smoke and hope it possesses my ******* senses. i hate this i hate what has become of my sanity of my body of my feet they all betray me like an idiot ******* out of my ******* hinges I am. I am screaming into a vacuum that nobody goes to the ****** lie I just want everything to be okay because I cant stand another year of blind inferno this is not fair this is terrible it's like dying with your eyes wide open forcing you to swallow all your pain and do not complain you ungrateful coward this is the life you will have give or take shut up there is no point. I am mad and sad and everything in between i wanna rip the ******* edges of those weaker than myself but I cant but I wont idk why but it's for that that I am still on my limits
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Your body
(h)as bec(o)me
a temp(l)e
onl(y)
fit
for
believers
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC
Pour que je t'aime, ô mon poète,
Ne fais pas fuir par trop d'ardeur
Mon amour, colombe inquiète,
Au ciel rose de la pudeur.
L'oiseau qui marche dans l'allée
S'effraye et part au moindre bruit ;
Ma passion est chose ailée
Et s'envole quand on la suit.
Muet comme l'Hermès de marbre,
Sous la charmille pose-toi ;
Tu verras bientôt de son arbre
L'oiseau descendre sans effroi.
Tes tempes sentiront près d'elles,
Avec des souffles de fraîcheur,
Une palpitation d'ailes
Dans un tourbillon de blancheur,
Et la colombe apprivoisée
Sur ton épaule s'abattra,
Et son bec à pointe rosée
De ton baiser s'enivrera.
698
Une colombe gémissait
De ne pouvoir devenir mère :
Elle avait fait cent fois tout ce qu'il fallait faire
Pour en venir à bout, rien ne réussissait.
Un jour, se promenant dans un bois solitaire,
Elle rencontre en un vieux nid
Un œuf abandonné, point trop gros, point petit,
Semblable aux œufs de tourterelle.
Ah ! Quel bonheur ! S'écria-t-elle :
Je pourrai donc enfin couver,
Et puis nourrir, puis élever
Un enfant qui fera le charme de ma vie !
Tous les soins qu'il me coûtera,
Les tourments qu'il me causera,
Seront encor des biens pour mon âme ravie :
Quel plaisir vaut ces soucis-là ?
Cela dit, dans le nid la colombe établie
Se met à couver l'œuf, et le couve si bien,
Qu'elle ne le quitte pour rien,
Pas même pour manger : l'amour nourrit les mères.
Après vingt et un jours elle voit naître enfin
Celui dont elle attend son bonheur, son destin,
Et ses délices les plus chères.
De joie elle est prête à mourir ;
Auprès de son petit nuit et jour elle veille,
L'écoute respirer, le regarde dormir,
S'épuise pour le mieux nourrir.
L'enfant chéri vient à merveille,
Son corps grossit en peu de temps :
Mais son bec, ses yeux et ses ailes,
Différent fort des tourterelles ;
La mère les voit ressemblants.
À bien élever sa jeunesse
Elle met tous ses soins, lui prêche la sagesse,
Et surtout l'amitié, lui dit à chaque instant :
Pour être heureux, mon cher enfant,
Il ne faut que deux points, la paix avec soi-même,
Puis quelques bons amis dignes de nous chérir.
La vertu de la paix nous fait seule jouir ;
Et le secret pour qu'on nous aime,
C'est d'aimer les premiers, facile et doux plaisir.
Ainsi parlait la tourterelle,
Quand, au milieu de sa leçon,
Un malheureux petit pinson
Échappé de son nid vient s'abattre auprès d'elle.
Le jeune nourrisson à peine l'aperçoit,
Qu'il court à lui : sa mère croit
Que c'est pour le traiter comme ami, comme frère,
Et pour offrir au voyageur
Une retraite hospitalière.
Elle applaudit déjà : mais quelle est sa douleur,
Lorsqu'elle voit son fils, ce fils dont la jeunesse
N'entendit que leçons de vertu, de sagesse,
Saisir le faible oiseau, le plumer, le manger,
Et garder au milieu de l'horrible carnage
Ce tranquille sang froid, assuré témoignage
Que le cœur désormais ne peut se corriger !
Elle en mourut, la pauvre mère.
Quel triste prix des soins donnés à cet enfant !
Mais c'était le fils d'un milan :
Rien ne change le caractère.
759