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"bil" poems
“Will you please leave the light on?” Said the young Boy to his Dad. “I’m kinda scared at night time, but I hope that you’re not mad ‘cuz when I am grown up big like you, I won’t be afraid no more Then you can turn the light off and even shut the door.” “It’s not the dark that scares me.” Said the Father to his Son. “It’s the early hours of morning When the light has just begun To creep in through the window, Push the darkness from the room and Sweep away the shadows like an Illuminating broom.” “So why’s the morning scare you, Dad?” “I really like the day.  I get dressed and Mom makes breakfast, I get to watch TV and play. Sometimes we go out shopping and buy groceries and stuff, She might buy me an ice cream cone – if I’m good enough.” The Father laughed, sat on the bed, and held his small Son’s hand. “I wish I could explain it, Son, in a way you’d understand. At night the dark can hide the truth, I dream and make big plans. Then morning brings reality to my castles built in sand. While you and Mom have breakfast, I have to go to work. I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY and duties I can’t shirk. People there DEPEND-ON-ME.  I don’t want to LET-THEM-DOWN.” Dad suddenly stopped talking when he saw his young Boy frown. “It sounds like you don’t like your work.” “You should stay home with Mom and me! Then you can help make breakfast, and it’ll be us three. We’ll have a really good time - you won’t be afraid of day. We’ll help Mom do the dishes, then we’ll go out and play. Maybe you can pitch some ***** and I can learn to bat? ‘Cuz please don’t tell her, but you know - Mom isn’t good at that. But she can go out shopping, and we’ll stay home alone, And, DAD, if you are REALLY good, I’ll make YOU an ice cream cone!” Dad leaned over, kissed his Son, and said, “I think I might.” “You said some things that I forgot, and I think you got it right. I know you and Mom DEPEND-ON-ME, and I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY To help her make the breakfast and to help you learn to bat, And maybe I’m afraid of day ‘cuz I’ve been forgetting that. So tonight I’ll leave my light on And I’ll leave your light on, too. And tomorrow morning, when it’s light, I’ll stay home with you! PwL 1990 to 2015
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
Leave the Light On
“Will you please leave the light on?” Said the young Boy to his Dad. “I’m kinda scared at night time, but I hope that you’re not mad ‘cuz when I am grown up big like you, I won’t be afraid no more Then you can turn the light off and even shut the door.” “It’s not the dark that scares me.” Said the Father to his Son. “It’s the early hours of morning When the light has just begun To creep in through the window, Push the darkness from the room and Sweep away the shadows like an Illuminating broom.” “So why’s the morning scare you, Dad?” “I really like the day.  I get dressed and Mom makes breakfast, I get to watch TV and play. Sometimes we go out shopping and buy groceries and stuff, She might buy me an ice cream cone – if I’m good enough.” The Father laughed, sat on the bed, and held his small Son’s hand. “I wish I could explain it, Son, in a way you’d understand. At night the dark can hide the truth, I dream and make big plans. Then morning brings reality to my castles built in sand. While you and Mom have breakfast, I have to go to work. I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY and duties I can’t shirk. People there DEPEND-ON-ME.  I don’t want to LET-THEM-DOWN.” Dad suddenly stopped talking when he saw his young Boy frown. “It sounds like you don’t like your work.” “You should stay home with Mom and me! Then you can help make breakfast, and it’ll be us three. We’ll have a really good time - you won’t be afraid of day. We’ll help Mom do the dishes, then we’ll go out and play. Maybe you can pitch some ***** and I can learn to bat? ‘Cuz please don’t tell her, but you know - Mom isn’t good at that. But she can go out shopping, and we’ll stay home alone, And, DAD, if you are REALLY good, I’ll make YOU an ice cream cone!” Dad leaned over, kissed his Son, and said, “I think I might.” “You said some things that I forgot, and I think you got it right. I know you and Mom DEPEND-ON-ME, and I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY To help her make the breakfast and to help you learn to bat, And maybe I’m afraid of day ‘cuz I’ve been forgetting that. So tonight I’ll leave my light on And I’ll leave your light on, too. And tomorrow morning, when it’s light, I’ll stay home with you! PwL 1990 to 2015
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46
Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner For jeg er immun over røgen fra de Gule og blå kameler - selv når Du presser dem ned med din tunge, Og du fortæller mig hvor skøn du Synes min kolde krop er. Du euforiserer dig selv med Hash fra Christiania. Og lidt *** fra Vesterbro Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner Imens jeg dækker øjnene til, og Svinger ud foran en bil på Blegdamsvej Når jeg bander og svovler, over idioterne i Deres benzinslugende miljøforurenende biler Jeg cykler, hvor jeg vil - for cykelister Har da førsteret, selv på Lyngbyvejen En fredag aften. Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner Når jeg tager et sip af min lunkne Latte Og læser min egen halvkvalmende poesi Om mit efterårskolde kærlighedsliv På en lille kaffebar uden WIFI på Nørrebro For jeg er langt foran, på farten og lidt sejere end De andre poetiske narcisister Fra Nordjylland Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner For jeg har skandinavisk gennemsigtig hud Sjasket lyst hår, og fregner så mange at du Bliver grøn af misundelse For jeg er storbyens dronning Så kan du bare fucke hjem til Dit provinshul.
0
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner
Mirrored thought full breach horizon Yearning drawing bridging cry Intimate complete attraction Now the moment true imply Cast aside mendacious forethought Resolute round purpose fly Epiphanic thought emerging Doubts foul gibbous banish say .... Insp’ration resolute within here Bursting forth bright intellect Loosing dogs full purpose forward Encroaching far reach treaded path Resolute’ness biting grasping Endless boundless seeming lost Blazing purposeful grasp grimly Energise strong inner soul Capa’bil’ity strong purpose Clear thought con’quering foul Abandon dissolute mist darkness Intersperse directive steer Levelling where once lay mountains Onward pushing prancing laugh Voices raised fair joyous chorus Ethereal reaching hands entwine Yearning warmth transcending distance Over hill and Moorland track Understand where strength in thought lay Accomplishment find perfect peace
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
Encouragement
biler kører stærkt forbi ude på Ringvejen barn cykler rundt og råber på et fremmed sprog flere biler kører forbi computertasterne siger de velkendte klik’s, når jeg skriver dette barnet cykler frem og tilbage jeg kan høre cykelhjulets tikken der bremses hård op på cyklen en motorcykel i det fjerne gasser op og en bil kører forbi ude ved blokkens gade et andet barn i det fjerne råber: ”Papa, papa…” der er fuglesang af fuglearter jeg ikke kender og efterårsvinden suser i de gule trækroner der er fodtrin nedenfor mit vindue tunge skridt der bliver slæbt hen ad jorden trafikken står aldrig stille der vil altid være lyde at høre (Marolle)
0
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
Åbent vindue
"man kan, hvad man vil" det sagde du selv da du tog mit hjerte i dine lune hænder efter 6 måneder i den evige kulde du og jeg dig og mig vi er så meget men lige nu, er vi ingenting længsel er vores drivkraft kærligheden er skrøbelig og vi skal passe på så vi ikke knuser den igen lad os prøve igen lad os elske igen det føles som gamle dage når dine øjne smiler til mig og minder mig om hvorfor jeg hoppede i det blå hav de består af til at starte med lygtepælens skær krammer din mørkegrønne bil med duggede ruder fordi vi trækker vejret istedet for at snakke jeg forsvinder i lyserøde skyer når du fortæller mig at du har savnet mig inden du trækker i mit halstørklæde for at lade vores læber mødes jeg ser ikke andet end hvad vi kunne blive du og jeg dig og mig igen
0
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
man kan, hvad man vil
I skolen skriver jeg sagprosa, og rækker flittigt hånden op i dansktimerne. Jeg smiler til lærerne på gangen og kommer med åndssvage sarkastiske kommentarer, som de alligevel i et-eller-andet omfang, finder humoritiske. Jeg løber ture ad hovedvejen, og løber mod bilerne, i håbet om, at en-eller-anden vil lægge mærke til den tåre, der løber ned af min højre kind. Når jeg kommer til den sidevej, hvor min dansklærer bor, vender jeg hovedet, kigger, og efterfølgende leder jeg i mængden, efter en sort bil, der kunne være hendes. Når jeg kommer til stranden, standser jeg brat op. Tager musikken ud af ørene og prøver at få tiden til at stå stille. Når jeg kommer hjem skriver jeg digte.
0
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
07/04/2015
Enter In Stand now before the heavenly gates Made clean by the blood which expiates Come now before the resplendent throne Lift your voice in praise with trumpets blown And here bowing down in adoration Come one come all and enter in Open my heart open my mind and soul Help me to focus on the final goal To be as one in spirit and in flesh With Christ the Lord whom I so bless That I may learn and grow and be taught And reflect Him in action and thought Come to love Him who loves so deeply Know the one who knows you so completely Lose yourself in the sea of total surrender Find healing in the arms strong and tender S e e s-t-a-bil-i-ty becomes the center When HE —————————— The doors | | are open wide | | | | | | So just ENTER IN And when you do: STOP for a moment . . . . Inhale deeply and fully the subtle scent Of change in you on the smallest scale And in your bones know that love will not fail Should the earth crumble and sun lose it’s fire His burning love for you shall not expire Dare to enter in more deeply today Open yourself more freely and be s w e p t away
0
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 11:32 PM UTC
Enter In
Kemm hu b’ saħħtu l-baħar Qatt ma jaqta nifsu Bil-mewġ dejjem jiżfen Mar-ritmu tal-kurrenti Kemm hu b’ saħħtu l-baħar Qatt ma jieqaf jikkumbatti Ħadd u xejn ma jwaqqfu Jew jibdilu d-direzzjoni “Kemm hu b’ saħħtu l-baħar” Ma nista naħseb xejn għajr hekk Kemm ngħir għalih Kemm nixtieq inkun bħalu 08/02/2016
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Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
Il-Baħar
mennesker lukket grundet konstruktionsomstændigheder som telefoner med 50% strøm en tom bil i landevejsgrøften med ødelagte vinduer og alle ens værste forestillinger pakket nydeligt sammen og tapet inde i en våd flyttepapkasse omme på bagsæde; kompakt og støvet og angstprovokerende venter på at blive åbnet på den værst tænkelige dag fotografier printet på bølgepap garnnøgle-følelser, sammenrullet den forskudte personlige relation øjeblikket
0
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
pap
og så lever vi ufornægteligt videre i vores bizarre eksistenser uden retning i en fremmed bil på en ukendt vej med 93 km/h motorvejs-lampelys under himmelen, under skæbnen skabelse, mørkegrøn, eventyr, sump, nysgerrighed, oprigtighed, damp, fornyelse
0
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
unavngiveligt
med tårer i øjnene hiver jeg luft ned i mine ekspansive lunger, husker husker: det er bare nu'et. det er blot en brøkdel. og en dag vil jeg have glemt dette øjeblik, dette blink med øjnene, forbipasseret fortvivlelse og forvildelse og utilpashed og en dag vil jeg have varme, gyldne minder lokaliseret bag øjenhulen, bag drømmene og jeg vil have hængt hvidt vasketøj op, jeg vil have talt med en vred bille, kørt i en lyseblå bil og købt mine egne øko-appelsiner. jeg vil have klippet mit hår mindst ti gange, foldet fingrene om en andens krop, om en andens ømheder, en andens tanker, jeg vil have haft et hundrede forskellige par sko på mine to fødder, set nye vidundere og nye lavpunkter og det smelter sammen og alt det ubehagelige fylder mindst men lige nu kaster ubehag lange skygger
0
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
Untitled
// Internal System Log: CORRUPTED // Status: [St@bil!ty = ] // Emotional Containment Protocol: UNSUCCESSFUL ⸻ BEGIN REPORT: Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input— [[TooMu.ch//Prcssing]] [[Intake>Breathe>Breathe>STOP]] [[Overload threshold breached: 147%]] [[SILENCE REQUESTED—but no mute function exists.]] :: Ceiling fan = bl@des. :: Light = thorns behind the eyes. :: Voice (x3) = collision. Smell-of-metal Sound-of-thought Feel-of-cloth = same weight !!! Every thread = a scream. Every hum = a map of somewhere I cannot go. I f   e     e      l      t    o   o      m u   c   h B@ckgr()und noise reclassified: Hostile Texture = LANGUAGE Light = WEAPON Breath = HEAVY::LOUD::VISIBLE ⸻ MEMORY ATTEMPT: BLOCKED Recall = corrupted. Syntax folding in on self. :: error_rpt :: “it’s_too_loud” “it’s_too_now” “i_was_built_wrong” [[Containment sequence failed.]] [[Masking loop frozen mid-loop.]] :: Body = too connected :: Skin = antenna :: Thoughts = UNIVERSE EXPERIENCING ITSELF Request: —s h u t d o w n— —p a u s e— —decre@se awareness— ERROR. No exits. ⸻ Voice modulation: SILENCED Eye contact: NO ACCESS Tongue: SYSTEM JAMMED Hands: mimic comfort sequence [looping…looping…] Body: offline Presence: simulated Pain: everywhere Witness: no one ⸻ :: Let them call this dramatic :: Let them call this a phase :: Let them call this poetry :: They are not inside this moment. — !    s    o     m     u     c    h       i     n      h     e     r     e …still… i do not want to leave. i just want it all to slow d o w n ⸻ [TRANSMISSION: TERMINATED] Final ping: [[I_am_still_here]] Recovery window: unknown System will reboot once internal volume falls below threat levels.
0
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 8:30 PM UTC
[047–A // OVERRIDE EVENT]
// Internal System Log: CORRUPTED // Status: [St@bil!ty = ] // Emotional Containment Protocol: UNSUCCESSFUL ⸻ BEGIN REPORT: Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input— [[TooMu.ch//Prcssing]] [[Intake>Breathe>Breathe>STOP]] [[Overload threshold breached: 147%]] [[SILENCE REQUESTED—but no mute function exists.]] :: Ceiling fan = bl@des. :: Light = thorns behind the eyes. :: Voice (x3) = collision. Smell-of-metal Sound-of-thought Feel-of-cloth = same weight !!! Every thread = a scream. Every hum = a map of somewhere I cannot go. I f   e     e      l      t    o   o      m u   c   h B@ckgr()und noise reclassified: Hostile Texture = LANGUAGE Light = WEAPON Breath = HEAVY::LOUD::VISIBLE ⸻ MEMORY ATTEMPT: BLOCKED Recall = corrupted. Syntax folding in on self. :: error_rpt :: “it’s_too_loud” “it’s_too_now” “i_was_built_wrong” [[Containment sequence failed.]] [[Masking loop frozen mid-loop.]] :: Body = too connected :: Skin = antenna :: Thoughts = UNIVERSE EXPERIENCING ITSELF Request: —s h u t d o w n— —p a u s e— —decre@se awareness— ERROR. No exits. ⸻ Voice modulation: SILENCED Eye contact: NO ACCESS Tongue: SYSTEM JAMMED Hands: mimic comfort sequence [looping…looping…] Body: offline Presence: simulated Pain: everywhere Witness: no one ⸻ :: Let them call this dramatic :: Let them call this a phase :: Let them call this poetry :: They are not inside this moment. — !    s    o     m     u     c    h       i     n      h     e     r     e …still… i do not want to leave. i just want it all to slow d o w n ⸻ [TRANSMISSION: TERMINATED] Final ping: [[I_am_still_here]] Recovery window: unknown System will reboot once internal volume falls below threat levels.
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Żmien ta’ ferħ w ’nnoċenza ta’ sempliċita u purezza Żmien ħieles mill-inkwiet u mżejjen bil-paċi fis-skiet Dak li dejjem smajt u dak li dejjem tgħallimt Pero m’ huwiex dak li esperjenzajt m’ huwiex dak li ngħatajt Mingħalihom li tawni kollox Mingħalihom li ma naqsuni f’xejn Mur għidilhom kemm battejt Kemm minħabba fihom soffrejt Noħlom bi tfulija sempliċi u pura Nixtieq li ġejt mogħtija bidu ta’ ħajja sura 16/04/2009
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Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
It-Tfulija
dear sir, this was my jacket, a fine coat it is. it held me tight an kept me from fright. in the wind we would go, bright sun would shine down as I'd cruise all over town. I'm gone now, the coat hangs limp. a constant reminder to my wife so fine of the life I left behind. I plead with thee, do not tread my path.
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Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
bil's jacket
oh liberty,! oh freedom , let me be at your expense, I am dying to get to know you, I am only getting started, I am only getting comfortable, not even the age of the **** of the joke on friends, not even there yet, not even there, still young, still full of life, still full of whatever I need to be! still full of pos a bil a ty, separated out and its a hopscotch word, a bit up surd, lovers met around the chocolate fountain possessing their fate, and I possess my fate with a keyboard, keys and musical keys, working with the fingers, a knack for songs, good memory God, I live in a palace! God, he is not dead, he is relocated, he's weaving through the music, satanitc verses are met with heavenly melodies and hes meant for it, cherish it, whose got the better of me? no no no, you’re up for surrender to his power, you’ve fathomed it, talked about it, debated it in your silly little politics course, you’re meant for this discussion, it is what you were born for, out of the foul mouthed, out of the obscene, the gestures are hidden, their in between every phrase, uttered out at a key, uttered out over a particular suit and tie and way of being Surge surge surge! its meant for it!!!
0
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
God