"berg" poems
Dear haters,
You stand tall as an ice berg in my vogue.
You are the wildest storm in desert,
The toxic that burns my heart,
The madness that drives me insane.
But your hatred keeps me going.
I dare to go beyond my boundaries,
You imbibe new zest of inspiration,
I learn to conquer my fear,
Sail alone in the vast sea,
Your jealousy keep me sane.
Your words don’t pierce…
Through my titanium heart…
Because I know haters only hate.
Hate me more to make me grow more.
With Love
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
Thailand ******
Can read my mind
See my desire
Feel my pain
Siam Halloween in nana klong toey
Thai delights even the ladyboys look good tonight they know how to **** over and survive using a cheap disguise
Hey forang you wanna **** me?
1000 baht short time curiosity.
I prefer real ladies with juicy butts
Flavored with beer and sangsom whiskey *****
Take me home beat me with your
**** asian Treats
Make me lick your ***** feets
Asian women are my lust filled desire
They sit on my face until I can't breath no more
Than make me pay for my ***** laundry
Soap me up and knock me down
Bangkok Thailand is my home town
I slither along the Sukhumvit soi 11, devoted to the ***** I'm in 7th heaven...
Her **** smells better than stupid blonde Suzy the airhead girl next door boring rubber doll
Asian toilet scrubbers turn me on the never heard of boring old vain Beverly hills ugly rodeo drive full of stuffy old hags high on ****** pills
Sad drag Beverly hills I lived in that phoney fake berg I love the ancient town Bangkok where my face gets slapped and hurt!
*** is a weapon.
****** are mans desire
Zeus fell in lust with a Greek goddess than expired?
Nasty ****** in Thailand make me hard
I become 18 again nothing else matters but fun with that wanna be ******
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
" the pros and cons "
from a to z , we talked and heard our voices
we give and take behind schedule
at long last ,our little conversation
had found a tower of strength within You
for me to face the music of a naked truth.
the long and short of it
i was just roving around like
an angel in disguise
as if i am a "quite observer"
quietly looking forward for
the man of the hour.
in tight squeeze before i fall asleep
i put something into bed
remembering those days
between you and me
sharing thoughts in just a rhyme away
from our distances.
NOW THAT THE TIP OF ICE BERG
UNDER THE SUN HAD BEEN
TURNED OVER INTO A NEW LEAF
AND VARNISH UNTO THE AIR !!!
all i can say is that.....
"Hello Poetry",,i knew you load-off your mind!
and i want to remind You that for me
" You are still one of a kind!""
i might not be -a man of his word- for all the time
but one thing is for sure!
from then on after,now i will live my life in a low profile
with or without a babe in arms!,#HPpeople ,you're enough for me.
in Jesus name, HELP ME GOD in the nick of time--often or seldom
because i wrote these lightheartedly so that i can give a buds of wisdom
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
In my droom wereld...
Daar, in die verte, is n bed vir as ek moeg raak.
n Berg wat ek gebruik as n kuns muur.
En n oop veld vol rose.
Bo my, die blou lug met reen druppels wat val, maar wat nie nat maak nie.
My gedagtes wat rond sweef.
musiek wat gehoor word maar nie gesien word nie.
En dan, jy.
n Bed vir my en jou.
Jou naam op die berg met klippe, gevorm soos harte, gepak.
n Oop veld rose wat jou emosie kleur wys.
Reen druppels wat val, wys my jou trane.
My gedagtes wat vir jou wys *** spesiaal jy is vir my.
Musiek om als te laat kalmeer.
En jy, vir my om lief te he, sonder om te stres oor wat jy sal **** of se as jy weet jy is die een wat ek wil he.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
building up
a big mountain
then tear it down
give it to the clowns
nosebleed
for a feast
endless bottom
as a treat
*it’ll likes get up
tear it down
it’ll likes get up
tear it down*
trail of tears
chopped off
nail of thoughts
stopped short
ego invoice
taking drugs
fat berg sewer
horrible vanity
*it’ll likes get up
tear it down
it’ll likes get up
tear it down*
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
I didn't know I was lost
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
I'll guide you home no matter where you are
lost in your eyes drowning in blue
you can be the sunlight & I'll be the dawn
Sometimes I get a good feeling
cause I see you for you and your beautiful scars
without you I'd be lost at sea
Do you still believe in one another?
After all this time, tell me can't you feel
I wouldn't be what I am today
So hollow in a world without you
like a river running free
I've been watching you, hurting too
one day you'll leave this world behind so live a life you will remember
for a Better day, my dreams are made of gold
Do you think about me when the crowd is gone
won't let you fade into darkness
shadows that live in your heart
why worry now
You'll be safe
hold my hand just in case
I see you behind those tired eyes
but we made a promise to never grow old
like the wind we'll be wild and free
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
No use whistling for Lyonnesse!
Sea-cold, sea-cold it certainly is.
Take a look at the white, high berg on his forehead-
There's where it sunk.
The blue, green,
Gray, indeterminate gilt
Sea of his eyes washing over it
And a round bubble
Popping upward from the mouths of bells
People and cows.
The Lyonians had always thought
Heaven would be something else,
But with the same faces,
The same places...
It was not a shock-
The clear, green, quite breathable atmosphere,
Cold grits underfoot,
And the spidery water-dazzle on field and street.
It never occurred that they had been forgot,
That the big God
Had lazily closed one eye and let them slip
Over the English cliff and under so much history!
They did not see him smile,
Turn, like an animal,
In his cage of ether, his cage of stars.
He'd had so many wars!
The white gape of his mind was the real Tabula Rasa.
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*did i tell you about that orca (killer whale)
that killed a killer white (shark)?
yeah, flipped him on the stomach
inducing a conscious sleeping position
of the shark, belly up... the ****** orca
drowned the shark.*
dear daffodils counting to only sixteen
springs, why blossom why bloom so soon?
lemmy was part of something better
than his solo project... no one really talks
'bout his solo crazy train antics,
so why talk lemmy why talk ozzy os' burn
and simply dismiss hawkwind & black sabbath?
oh -
*na kraju nocy i u progu dnia
kogut na dachu pieje
w głowie sie kręci
da na da na da
gorączka znów szaleje.*
given all that, imagine a seal on a drift of ice,
a stowaway of a berg,
then imagine why, it's seeking a monastery,
there are four orcas beneath the mirror surface
of the water, in formation, like horses
to the gallop of a wind's flute eolides,
and they're moving in, dipping with tail
fin exertion of some reflex spasm -
and the mini tsunami created suddenly
tilts the seal's monastery and the seal plops
into the depths... where it's only an old
cloth rag soon to be mince.
p.s. i denounce the polish diacritical mark
over o to make u (ó) as not diacritical at all...
it's an aesthetic mark, and yes, it does look pretty.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 5:47 AM UTC
resting upon a wet diamonte cloth a dew encrusted diamante goblet of sparkling bubbling classic champagne floating a jewelled ice berg the solitaire diamond encrusted the ring of Celtic gold thrice captured
indulged then held fast in your naked sleeping beauty - with visions of our night shared in driven imaginative love
the coloured reality of a nights unreality - soon both awake we will discover more
now we slip between reverie and gentle touch - this is our love in loves haecceity
within a darkened airy Bedouin tents comfort then thrice by the lonely beauty of the green oasis waves of guarding desert dunes beyond a mirage of dry high peaks here I await her dreaming heart
.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 1:19 AM UTC
YOUR eyes were gem-like in that dim deep chamber
Hushed and sombre with imprisoned fire,
With yellow ghostly globes of intense aether
Potent as the rays of pure desire.
Your voice was startled into vivid wonder,
When the winged wild whining mystic wheel
Took flight and shot the dark with frosty crashings
Like an ice-berg splitting to the keel.
Your flesh was never warmer to my passion
Than when, moving in that lumor green,
We saw with eyes our fragile bones enamoured
Clasping sadly on the pallid screen.
You seemed so virginal and so undreaming
Of the burning hunger in my eyes,
To peer more fever-deeply in your being
Than the very death of passion lies.
The subtle-tuned shy motions of your spirit,
Fashioned through the ages for the sun,
Were dumb in that green lustre-haunted cavern
Where you walked a naked skeleton;
Slim-hipped and fluent and of lovely motion,
Living to the tip of every bone,
And ah, too exquisitely vivid-moving
Ever to lie wanly down alone--
To lie forever down so still and slender,
Tracing on the ancient screen of night
That naked and pale writing of the wonder
Of your beauty breathing in the light.
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You'll Be ******** Your Teeth Out For Months If You Cross Me,
Can't Believe He Stepped Up Here's My **** He Can Toss Me.
He's A Cheating Dog That Never Amounted To ****
Remember When You Grabbed Me In The Club & Mounted My ****
I'll Dismember All The Lies & Bless Farewell To This Ship,
Hit A Whole Ice Berg Let His Views On Life Tip.
Always Had It Soft,
Your Parents Paid The Cost,
Now It's Time To Grow A Pair I Know You're Not A Boss,
Treat Me Like A Joke But You Know It Is Your Loss.
I Am Like Whole Inferno You're Just Made Of Rust,
Obliterate What You Reiterate
While You're Throwing Dust,
Fictitious As Fiction So There Is No Trust,
If I Go In Then Be Aware It Is Just.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
Sah ein Mädchen ein Röslein stehen
Blühte dort in lichten Höhen
Sprach sie ihren Liebsten an
ob er es ihr steigen kann
Sie will es und so ist es fein
So war es und so wird es immer sein
Sie will es und so ist es Brauch
Was sie will bekommt sie auch
Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben
wenn man klares Wasser will
Rosenrot oh Rosenrot
Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still
Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual
Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal
Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn
Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin
Sie will es und so ist es fein
So war es und so wird es immer sein
Sie will es und so ist es Brauch
Was sie will bekommt sie auch
Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben
wenn man klares Wasser will
Rosenrot oh Rosenrot
Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still
An seinen Stiefeln bricht ein Stein
Will nicht mehr am Felsen sein
Und ein Schrei tut jedem kund
Beide fallen in den Grund
Sie will es und so ist es fein
So war es und so wird es immer sein
Sie will es und so ist es Brauch
Was sie will bekommt sie auch
Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben
wenn man klares Wasser will
Rosenrot oh Rosenrot
Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still
--
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
.i come across objects that, being inanimate... somehow impose on the inanimate conviction of stasis... faking their inanimate ontology... in stasis... becoming animate... smiling... and... for all the oddity... i feel... slightly bewildered by the welcome... like i'm expected... like i'm welcome... just prior to death... i know where i am being allocated a home... and.. its a home, which foundations are focused upon the virtue of... patience.
but i've seen faces!
carved into stone!
**** your rationality!
**** it!
let it die a nice, solemn death
of being reprimanded for
deviating
from the scholastic bedroom
antics... of:
revising rubrics...
i care as much for it,
as i might care for...
whatever the **** it takes
to conjure up a turd's worth
of custard...
let's see the ******* ice-berg...
then, only then...
will i bring out
the ******* Titanic!
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Yankee Doodle
Yankee Doodle went to town, at least that's what they say,
I heard he never made it there, he was rolling in the hay,
with Mrs Sims fine young daughter, she had a real nice pair,
of Siamese *** Bellied Pigs, with long blond flowing hair
They sometimes referred to him, as the Doodle Meister,
he was known around this town, as the village heister,
he would steal candy bars, just stick them in his pocket,
and for young Sally Sims, he even stole a locket
The sheriff of this little berg, caught up with him one day,
made him drop his droopy drawers, put it on display,
milky ways and muskateers, tumbled to the ground,
and when he made him spread his cheeks, you won't believe what he found
A carton of cigs, a jar of olives, and some candied yams,
a pound of pasta, a TV guide, and 2 cans of deviled hams,
the sheriff put the cuffs on him, and threw him in the wagon,
somehow he managed to escape, like Puff the Magic Dragon
Gomer LePoet...
May 14, 2010
May 14, 2010 at 12:43 PM UTC
Yankee Doodle
Yankee Doodle went to town, at least that's what they say,
I heard he never made it there, he was rolling in the hay,
with Mrs Sims fine young daughter, she had a real nice pair,
of Siamese *** Bellied Pigs, with long blond flowing hair
They sometimes referred to him, as the Doodle Meister,
he was known around this town, as the village heister,
he would steal candy bars, just stick them in his pocket,
and for young Sally Sims, he even stole a locket
The sheriff of this little berg, caught up with him one day,
made him drop his droopy drawers, put it on display,
milky ways and muskateers, tumbled to the ground,
and when they made him spread his cheeks, you won't believe what he found
A carton of cigs, a jar of olives, and some candied yams,
a pound of pasta, a TV guide, and 2 cans of deviled hams,
the sheriff put the cuffs on him, and threw him in the wagon,
somehow he managed to escape, like Puff the Magic Dragon
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
*the aerodynamics on that **** past the **** **** me... miles davis on the trumpet! followed up by john coltrane on the sax.*
sure... it's like egg-friend rice, of any kind replicable...
but this is hoisin sauce, and soya sauce...
jumping at each other in the mix...
or that's: half an hour, sitting on the window-sill,
sitting on my foot folded, massaging my ****
thinking: there's bound to be a few more
inches' worth of **** stuck up there....
c'mon heel! massage that **** a bit more,
if we get a few more farts out... we're bound
to get the **** out too!
that's the funny thing... you can have a lodged ****
but then you can also **** and the **** doesn't
come out...
how do farts byspass the ****
that really is, a weird question...
it's a bit like comparing it so psychiatry...
all these thoughts (farts) keep coming out...
past this thick fudge-berg lodged in my head (the ego)...
how did they ever bypass that shit-berg's worth of contemplative
and monetary's unit worth of reasoning about,
in the first place?
well... if you're going to circumcise people...
might as well call the **** the mind...
and make fun out of circumcised freud...
better now? ah hmm mmm?
farts the thoughts, thoughts bypassing the lodged
in **** turd's worth of ego...
surely if there's aerodynamics... there must be some
sort of cognitive-dynamism... a bypass...
people love to simply call it ignorance...
but it's not...
oh, lookie here... fits neatly, right into my trouser pocket;
what was it?
farts, thoughts, ego, ****
well.. you know... some of us like the idea of shortcuts.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 5:21 PM UTC
This weekend dies as it begins.
The sinking, sickening feeling
That seeps into the carpet
Of the lounge
Is nothing more or less than manufactured.
Yet I can close that factory;
I can fill the space that the 'filler' fills
Every day.
I can steer the boat clear
Of the berg.
But the grape and grain call louder than reason,
And regret stands up:
Its face bare-faced
Amid the clouds of prepared anesthesia.
This weekend ends.
My resolve to end the dying
Will die, in time, again.
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
Yankee Doodle
Yankee Doodle went to town, at least that's what they say,
I heard he never made it there, he was rolling in the hay,
with Mrs Sims fine young daughter, she had a real nice pair,
of Siamese *** Bellied Pigs, with long blond flowing hair
They sometimes referred to him, as the Doodle Meister,
he was known around this town, as the village heister,
he would steal candy bars, just stick them in his pocket,
and for young Sally Sims, he even stole a locket
The sheriff of this little berg, caught up with him one day,
made him drop his droopy drawers, put it on display,
milky ways and muskateers, tumbled to the ground,
and when he made him spread his cheeks, you won't believe what he found
A carton of cigs, a jar of olives, and some candied yams,
a pound of pasta, a TV guide, and 2 cans of deviled hams,
the sheriff put the cuffs on him, and threw him in the wagon,
somehow he managed to escape, like Puff the Magic Dragon
Gomer LePoet...
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
Ek raak van tyd tot tyd verlore
in die vlaktes van my verbeelding
op 'n eindelose reiktog
na die goue uitloopsels van more
, ander kere skuil ek in die klowe
en trek my toe in n berg kombers...
daar kan ek skree
- en huil
-en lag.
Daar kan ek die eie self
in n lastergil uitlok en wag
vir die koue kras kranse
om dit terug te werp in my ope arms.
My verbeeldingshuis le in die kranse...
my drome rol in oor die see se soutwater golwe...
en ek, ek le iewers in die middel
van perfekte harmonie
en absolute chaos.
Ek . droom . eindeloos...
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
It's hard to explain,
why does this happen?
It's a question I long to find an answer for.
All is perfect,
all is pure,
all is perfect.
A simple memory is all it takes,
to send me spinning off the tracks.
To set me ablaze like a forest in drought.
That's all it takes.
Even when I feel everything is well,
when I feel I have found someone,
when I feel a whole,
along comes a memory,
sending everything previously thought to hell.
Crumbling down like an ice berg,
leaving me breathless, under the weight of my thoughts.
Why must this happen?
I surely don't know.
Why must it happen?
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
When we see the tip of the iceberg,
One thing that we know
Is there is more--much, much more--
Iceberg down below.
The moon shines on the tip of the iceberg
Creating a silvery sheen
Of gossamer, or sometimes even
A heap of velveteen.
Beating down on the mountain of ice,
The rays from the glorious sun
Melt the surface. But in the meantime,
Damage can be done.
If you approach the iceberg, you
Approach what's "forbidden."
The dangerous part is not what you see,
But rather the part that's hidden.
The shadowy base of the floating mountain
Hidden from your view
Murmurs, "If you get too close,
There's a surprise for you."
The monolithic, towering berg
Will melt eventually,
And gone will be the dangers that
We weren't supposed to see.
Until it melts, be attentive.
Don't be deceived
By bluster and appearances
Not to be believed.
-by Bob B (8-29-17)
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC
Bo op 'n berg
Met my bobbejaan gedagtes wat terg
Die eggo van my mania skree terug
Wat soek jy hier?
Ek drink uit die rivier
Ek sink my oë in die rooi son
Ek **** alweer
Die donker wolke
Die reën wat kom
Ek laat my gedagtes so dans
Plek tot plek
Gras van Kees
En mens en vlees
Sny deur my
Woede en naaktheid
Die lag van 'n sekere malheid
En die sagtheid van jou moeder ken
En dan meer bring ek twee
Van my na die tafel in 'n oop gesprek
Met my leemtes en my onbeheerbare
Soeke na wat ek herken binne my donker gate
Ek dwaal verlate
In riviere van die samelewing
Die masjien wat liggies trap op ligte wat skyn en verdwyn
In die strate van spoed en bloed
Die woorde uit die bek van die dier
Die ongetemde kwaad van primate
Wat stoei met homself en sy produk en sy bestaan en sy wêreld en sy alles
Tot hy verval en wegkwyn
Verdwyn agter 'n swart gordyn bedoel vir die son en sterre
Waarheid en verlossing
Waar vind ek die antwoord vir alles?
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC
Reptile conscience
Liars eyes, reptile conscience,
Forked tongue whispers, secret heart.
Your fire, echoes of broken promises,
Far gone is all that which we are.
Ice berg, the ruination,
Your words all begin to disintegrate.
My words are now a termination;
No chance of our love lasting past the end of this day.
Heart break, this is your hotel,
I am just your ******
My life, my life; my Hell.
I think that you should go.
You can take all of the lies with you,
Scatter clothes across the floor.
I see no future, no way through;
I change the locks on all my doors.
Taken away, never to be returned,
This should have been a beautiful day.
Now I am torn, now I have heard,
No place I can escape to; nothing left to say.
The damage is done, we are no more.
Chasing dreams away for they are only nightmares.
You had your fun and watched me fall;
The grenade you leave inside my chest leaves me without air.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
I like calligraphy
It's more like how your voice sings to me
Beautiful and sweet
Is it honey and you have a bee hive in your voice box
Baby you got me locked up in an ice berg
What's strange I'm not freezing
This love warms me up
Oh God! I love how you make me
Happy and proud
I love you and will never stop
If love is something I'm catching its because you let me run after you
In the day and night
Flowers bloom and don't die
You are the crystal that's gonna purify my soul
Lay next to me baby mama
I'm yours and you are mine
Love you to the moon and back
It's forever love💕
Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 9:49 AM UTC