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"beluga" poems
The finest singer in the sea I heard upon this morn And in that strange sonorous tone A universe was born The low melodic wailing touched And roused me from my sleep As the humpback lithe and languid Made a turn and sounded deep And as my mind awakes it turns To whales large and small To the snowy white beluga The canary of them all The clicking bursts of ***** whales And the California grey The fin whale speaks across the sea To those a world away The short and longfinned pilot whales With whistles quite complex The striking graceful orcas Speak in different dialects But it is the great blue whale That makes the loudest cry Though it is far too rare today With such an awful why But on this wondrous morning I Am filled with joyous glee That God has given life to whales And gave to them the sea Cori MacNaughton 24Oct2000
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
Upon the Songs of Whales
I remembered you, you remembered me, I believed in you, You believed in me, We were both sea creatures traveling uncommon seas. We had taken to that unconscious ocean to see in the sea, What we could see. It's been a strange journey of that there is no doubt. Where everyone walks with their insides in, We travel these seas with our insides out, We don't know any other way to be when you're swimming through these uncommon seas. It's often a desert out there, But inside here all kinds of musty characters drudged up from anxious memory inhabitants of this sea - Sponge Bob Square Pants has nothing on you or me, We are all travelers in this uncommon sea. Our bathing suits left far behind, the temperature sometimes too hot too cold depending on our state of mind, There's strife confrontation character assination often uncommon seas are far from placid. The joy of traveling though you and me, Sea creatures feeling the longing, Finally belonging, Where somewhere and sometimes out of the blue, A Beluga whale speaks your name so perfectly and swims alongside you and me in uncommon seas.
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Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
Uncommon Seas
**** men predatory *** hounds chasing skirts and tights aching **** idiots disciples of Eros Christs of fetish reconciling nothing veiling that principled demeanor of feminist culture "of don't objectify me".....translation sensual form is not natures ruse machine Eve must override override override well the id does not negotiate the superstructure of affected political tele-reality starring the liberal chattering class who speculate male motives to be some vainglorious power trip while corporatized media personalities feign out of control lust as a mental disorder and sit up like shuddering Pekingese yessing the lascivious as a fiction no ladies its not just power theories are not testosterone it is pure unadulterated relentless irreducible urge to merge like the beluga **** channel sea world as you've never seen it before where male dolphins batter and gang bang the weaker *** in search of feral harmony in an overbuilt society yet to become a civilization are we scissored between a wild ****** id of the damed and the Victorian sacred of the damed oh you silky damsels makin men moody and humid pure **** heroine a poison ivy of *** like a rash givin men folk the itch cant stop the twitch rubber ******* in a rubbing frenzy from your soaking heat and odor we are  a rumbling of muttering torments for the forbidden taste of you oooow oooow we are pan in a mad dance for glistening shanks and buttery kisses we are the early bird looking for the worm hunters decreed by the liturgy of heaven and hell a constellation of infatuation and lechery mad with adoration love slaves in a raging furnace of desire *** addicts that just say yes turgid dogs hole sniffers voluptuous monsters all johnny apple seed and sometimes your salvation as you are ours knowing that sometimes real eroticism eclipses morality and yes my darlings* NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
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Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
THE TERROR OF WOMEN
**** men predatory *** hounds chasing skirts and tights aching **** idiots disciples of Eros Christs of fetish reconciling nothing veiling that principled demeanor of feminist culture "of don't objectify me".....translation sensual form is not natures ruse machine Eve must override override override well the id does not negotiate the superstructure of affected political tele-reality starring the liberal chattering class who speculate male motives to be some vainglorious power trip while corporatized media personalities feign out of control lust as a mental disorder and sit up like shuddering Pekingese yessing the lascivious as a fiction no ladies its not just power theories are not testosterone it is pure unadulterated relentless irreducible urge to merge like the beluga **** channel sea world as you've never seen it before where male dolphins batter and gang bang the weaker *** in search of feral harmony in an overbuilt society yet to become a civilization are we scissored between a wild ****** id of the damed and the Victorian sacred of the damed oh you silky damsels makin men moody and humid pure **** heroine a poison ivy of *** like a rash givin men folk the itch cant stop the twitch rubber ******* in a rubbing frenzy from your soaking heat and odor we are  a rumbling of muttering torments for the forbidden taste of you oooow oooow we are pan in a mad dance for glistening shanks and buttery kisses we are the early bird looking for the worm hunters decreed by the liturgy of heaven and hell a constellation of infatuation and lechery mad with adoration love slaves in a raging furnace of desire *** addicts that just say yes turgid dogs hole sniffers voluptuous monsters all johnny apple seed and sometimes your salvation as you are ours knowing that sometimes real eroticism eclipses morality and yes my darlings* NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
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Blue whales Killer whales Beluga whales The biggest mammals on earth ***** whale Pilot whale Bowhead whales My favorite clouds of water
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Whales
beluga whales surfaced, floating ghostly white ferocious tides ripped, sands sinking cowslip tripped the cloud's crashing sky sunbursts cracked storm walls, with fire yellow light rain far-off sheeted, poured - hillsides weeping fireweed bowed, bent heavily sleeping the rutted road curved swerving narrowly upward leading me to the sweet summer of Girdwood
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Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
Girdwood
Hello, little god, cornered in this world of insignificance; between sips of too-cold raspberry tea create your own brand of madness and label it "art." From the blueberry stool that is your throne, conduct symphonies of beluga whales and daisy chains molded together to craft another colorful beginning. Papercuts and calluses are your battle wounds; a diligent ballpoint pen is the dog that marks its territory. But then-- White knuckles crumple mistakes, transforming them into carpet-coating origami. Your fingers keep the beat that defines disincentive: bmm, bmm, bmm. Possessed by antagonistic demons, tug at the noose that is a favorite paisley tie and admit defeat. Take another bite of your overpriced Reuben sandwich.
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Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC
But Each Bite Inspired New Words
She is salty lipped ocean throat Warm morning fog Mixing with her overcast I want to place my head on her treasure chest Listen to her wet ruby cascade and thump A metronome for people who dance lightly She is a mildly ******** mermaid Born with the deformity of legs We were all born a little bit broken I tell her I know you’re a body of water I want to drown in When home feels like it’s so much bigger than these four walls But not much stronger than the skin I’m in So here’s to jumping off cliffs With the hope to land a little painfully So evolution might give me the wings I was meant to be born with She walks like a riptide Often risks drowning in the off chance Nature might be kind enough to understand What it really means to have sea legs This is for the soft shelled crab Who was tired of the heaviness of home For the mockingbirds who never studied music So they copy sound Sometimes really annoying sound But they hear the beauty regardless For the Dumbo Octopus Who clearly watched too much classic Disney The beluga whale who can crane its neck When its sonar song of home is not enough To know their kids are coming back to them For the penguins Who are fine being flightless Because they’d much rather swim They didn’t think it was stupid When they wished they could be different And she is the ocean Hips sway like a high tide approaching Hiding sirens’ secrets Skeletons in her closet Lovers who have lost And drown in her pitch black She wears the water like a second skin Smiles like the wind is pressing back her cheeks She chokes on sea water Drowns a little With the hope that this place might feel more like home Sometimes home is the hardest place to get to But there’s nothing wrong with going home
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May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
When She Was The Ocean
She is salty lipped ocean throat Warm morning fog Mixing with her overcast I want to place my head on her treasure chest Listen to her wet ruby cascade and thump A metronome for people who dance lightly She is a mildly ******** mermaid Born with the deformity of legs We were all born a little bit broken I tell her I know you’re a body of water I want to drown in When home feels like it’s so much bigger than these four walls But not much stronger than the skin I’m in So here’s to jumping off cliffs With the hope to land a little painfully So evolution might give me the wings I was meant to be born with She walks like a riptide Often risks drowning in the off chance Nature might be kind enough to understand What it really means to have sea legs This is for the soft shelled crab Who was tired of the heaviness of home For the mockingbirds who never studied music So they copy sound Sometimes really annoying sound But they hear the beauty regardless For the Dumbo Octopus Who clearly watched too much classic Disney The beluga whale who can crane its neck When its sonar song of home is not enough To know their kids are coming back to them For the penguins Who are fine being flightless Because they’d much rather swim They didn’t think it was stupid When they wished they could be different And she is the ocean Hips sway like a high tide approaching Hiding sirens’ secrets Skeletons in her closet Lovers who have lost And drown in her pitch black She wears the water like a second skin Smiles like the wind is pressing back her cheeks She chokes on sea water Drowns a little With the hope that this place might feel more like home Sometimes home is the hardest place to get to But there’s nothing wrong with going home
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I am a beluga stuck on the ground, My covered water body, sounding, An echo to the sounds around us, I move the water that moves, us I am not shy, of passersby, I love being me! appetite for life, devoured at my whim, though I am a baby, small in this place. ©ClemC072013
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Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
beluga ... baby (Same Poem different day)
he fed his best words to a beluga whale in the boyish hope he could sail the beast over salty horizons, to mirror the world in perfect halves but he drowned in the blowhole blast after realizing they were not enough.
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Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:11 PM UTC
Blowhole
I am a Beluga but stuck on dry land, My thin skin the fish tank, where I feed, On music, On wonder, always aware of danger, On dance, On water, afraid of drying out like a stick, On swimming, On life, bring it on...baby! ©ClemC072013
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Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Beluga...baby!
what is a telescope -a tyrannosaurus skeleton -a reluctant birthright what are ***** -a state line -an obsolete receipt what is a wave -grandmother says: she will never forget as long as she lives -a forest trail in thick fog what is sea sick -he ran over a dog -wettest March of the century what is an hour -no smoking allowed -the fuming face of a buffalo what is sunburn -inedible black toast -I think she slanders me what is wine -overnight contact lens solution -a humble canal what is a mirror (child | beluga) ~(ham):o + ¥ineapple what is travel -a last minute thing -warmth within a windshield what is revision -a slow explode -milk in coffee what is antacid/calcium supplement -a bottle cap -handy clutter what is a fist -something to try eating when in circles -flour, 1-to-20 eggs, some ennui, expiration dates what is a sigh -a fresh seismograph sheet -sound mechanical in early morning what is skin -a shoelace -child labor what is a workshop -scalpels, piñata bats -a lunar module what is that shiny dead thing in the green eyed river -New Year’s Eve ball drop -otherworldly return to beginning
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Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 8:33 PM UTC
Surrealist Waltz in Echo Chamber, Op. 301
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons found by happenstance a tin of Caviar something they'd never seen before with the curiosity of practiced thieves they proceeded to examine its worth 'its a tin of hair gel says one' 'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat' 'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another' 'throw it away, anything with a name like that is rubbish' 'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily' 'yea mate, look like **** throw it away' One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry took a closer look   'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00' Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha 'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy... a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand, must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga' And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off laughing like ********* Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair, will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.   Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains for in disparaging excellence and rubbishing  the noble and the exceptional they make us appreciate more that we are blessed and privileged and do not have semolina for brains hey! who would like some caviar
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Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
Chav's reign in Ambergris
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons found by happenstance a tin of Caviar something they'd never seen before with the curiosity of practiced thieves they proceeded to examine its worth 'its a tin of hair gel says one' 'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat' 'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another' 'throw it away, anything with a name like that is rubbish' 'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily' 'yea mate, look like **** throw it away' One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry took a closer look   'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00' Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha 'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy... a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand, must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga' And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off laughing like ********* Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair, will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.   Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains for in disparaging excellence and rubbishing  the noble and the exceptional they make us appreciate more that we are blessed and privileged and do not have semolina for brains hey! who would like some caviar
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Black ink squirted in my eye, Too close as he passed by, Crusty barnacles, reachin' up and out, Scratch my beluga belly, swimming distracted, always on demand, dump me in the deep end of the ocean, off of dry land, Is the only solution, IF you put me in a bind, with chains and anchors, then I could escape the twenty four hour me, baby. ©ClemC072013
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Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Now the downside of the topside (this is not a good day)
We're not here to represent the people that were meant to do, what's the point in that? We, the boys in Parliament are here to stuff our faces with Beluga,(booyah) and have a pint or two, represent you? not a chance.
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Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
The right honourable
~Sailing my Beluga Today, the day is crying All night, And since early morning, Filled with melancholy Waters Up to the brim. Slowly overflowing Streams and rivers Under my bridges. I am adding My tear or two Of the salty liquid To the mill. We will Finally reach The sea, The ocean blue. There is no Rush, No haste, No hurry. Easy does it. Life is just An accident. It may take a while, A year or two, A day Or a week. Who is counting The hours, The minutes? Not me. What's wrong With just sailing, Going With the flow? There is nothing, Nothing, Nothing wrong.
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Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 2:16 PM UTC
Sixth Stage of Grief
fact: the beluga whale can live for around 50 years. i see everything i feel as if i have eyes we all have eyes but my eyes see it all i wish they didnt see it all i really really do fact: the patients of nervosa probably can't live for around 50 years.
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
good ol' pop. round 2
Fatso You are and you aren’t Whale You are more than the labels they give you Cow It’s over now Their insults cannot hurt you Giant You are not in middle school anymore Ugly They cannot hurt you anymore Lard You are a grown-ass woman almost thirty, unapologetically queer, hairy, with curves and ******* and wide hips and pretty dips and They cannot cypher their words, syphon their insults by relating you to a beautiful big creature Cow, Whale, Lard, Fatso What is a Lard but a singling A bright beige soft nosed creature with brownie eyes and long lashes like a taper with a hooked nose soft and long like an elephants Flappy points of ears that hear well with tiny sharp teeth like a land-locked manatee or a furry caramel Beluga whale Their insults only refer you to necessary creatures who give their life to feed you and their intellect to empower you A Fatso is a bright blue animal that has shimmering rainbow wings (like a dragon) and thin curly white horns and milky grey eyes with a fabulous feathers and a fanned tail of royal purple that soars through the skit at light-speed and can bring the rain with its melodious cries When they or you or they or you or They are you you know Insult you they are not insulting you because a Lard and a Fatso are both such intelligent creatures mystical and fervent glorious and gargantuan Large, yes But beautiful all the same They have sharp teeth and move through the earth or skies whenever and wherever they like These animals have freedom Just like how you have freedom in how you think about yourself which is to think of yourself as the sexist, prettiest, cutest person alive now isn’t that great? now isn’t that grand? You are gold plated and steel incorporated and glass blown and light shadows thrown and haggling heights and shaved delights and a hairy symphony and a harrowing city of sparkles that twinkle in the night. You are beautiful and might just save the world one day. You are a mystical creature of the highest creed and no one can tell you otherwise.
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Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 9:30 PM UTC
You Are A Mystical Creature
Fatso You are and you aren’t Whale You are more than the labels they give you Cow It’s over now Their insults cannot hurt you Giant You are not in middle school anymore Ugly They cannot hurt you anymore Lard You are a grown-ass woman almost thirty, unapologetically queer, hairy, with curves and ******* and wide hips and pretty dips and They cannot cypher their words, syphon their insults by relating you to a beautiful big creature Cow, Whale, Lard, Fatso What is a Lard but a singling A bright beige soft nosed creature with brownie eyes and long lashes like a taper with a hooked nose soft and long like an elephants Flappy points of ears that hear well with tiny sharp teeth like a land-locked manatee or a furry caramel Beluga whale Their insults only refer you to necessary creatures who give their life to feed you and their intellect to empower you A Fatso is a bright blue animal that has shimmering rainbow wings (like a dragon) and thin curly white horns and milky grey eyes with a fabulous feathers and a fanned tail of royal purple that soars through the skit at light-speed and can bring the rain with its melodious cries When they or you or they or you or They are you you know Insult you they are not insulting you because a Lard and a Fatso are both such intelligent creatures mystical and fervent glorious and gargantuan Large, yes But beautiful all the same They have sharp teeth and move through the earth or skies whenever and wherever they like These animals have freedom Just like how you have freedom in how you think about yourself which is to think of yourself as the sexist, prettiest, cutest person alive now isn’t that great? now isn’t that grand? You are gold plated and steel incorporated and glass blown and light shadows thrown and haggling heights and shaved delights and a hairy symphony and a harrowing city of sparkles that twinkle in the night. You are beautiful and might just save the world one day. You are a mystical creature of the highest creed and no one can tell you otherwise.
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