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"bitte" poems
Memes! Angels, aberrations of opposition super standing overseeing you, The screamin' heebie jeebies. Yo, where you wanta go, you axin me we just go with it, the flow 'know? What I mean is, are we memes or mes or messes of yeses gone all johnny rcome late-rotten scarred scared, some thing not so far from sacred when you put your mind to the whole idea of life being at all. Thinking this is not easy. We are Able. Our belly's living waters cry out, you are your brother's keeper, yes, you are. Be leavin' that be, I am is, and you is, too. When you apprehend the meme named war. That meme has led the me-me mob for as far as men remember, but now, machines remember for us, all the facts, just the facts, ma'am. Why'd the d go into a comma, Pop? Welt (Duetch, bitte) Enshaung, glaube ich, vie leicht, aber are we ever going to filter out these German bleed-overs? stay tuned, next week the meme beacon is pulled down, who shall pre or post or ex maybe vail, travail, like trip wow, I hate being a 20 year old vet back in the U.S. of A. FTA All the way, Airborne ******** Herman Hesse ******** Jorney to and fro the east to west, and soon, et cetera. Siam is a mere myth now, eh? As the Narnia thing not called a heathen lie was allowed allowable in mere Christianity. I've only seen the English POV's on PBS, they may be filtered through feedback, meme belching bursting bubbles from new wine 'nold vessels about to plode into eternity, singing along. Thank you, very much. May I introduce, duce, intro duce, y'gittin this? Duce means 2 if you see e squeen between, you see that? Fun. No reason for fun? Who here, now, believes that or, no, bees leavin' those lies be told? Hunh? Y'know? Watch man, waht of the night? See, what I mean? All this from me hearin' some guy say, "Come and see, like that was okeh. For any body, n'me, too. Thinking, as a past-time, is pointless. You know, if you act like it.
0
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
Howard Blooming Me-mes
Memes! Angels, aberrations of opposition super standing overseeing you, The screamin' heebie jeebies. Yo, where you wanta go, you axin me we just go with it, the flow 'know? What I mean is, are we memes or mes or messes of yeses gone all johnny rcome late-rotten scarred scared, some thing not so far from sacred when you put your mind to the whole idea of life being at all. Thinking this is not easy. We are Able. Our belly's living waters cry out, you are your brother's keeper, yes, you are. Be leavin' that be, I am is, and you is, too. When you apprehend the meme named war. That meme has led the me-me mob for as far as men remember, but now, machines remember for us, all the facts, just the facts, ma'am. Why'd the d go into a comma, Pop? Welt (Duetch, bitte) Enshaung, glaube ich, vie leicht, aber are we ever going to filter out these German bleed-overs? stay tuned, next week the meme beacon is pulled down, who shall pre or post or ex maybe vail, travail, like trip wow, I hate being a 20 year old vet back in the U.S. of A. FTA All the way, Airborne ******** Herman Hesse ******** Jorney to and fro the east to west, and soon, et cetera. Siam is a mere myth now, eh? As the Narnia thing not called a heathen lie was allowed allowable in mere Christianity. I've only seen the English POV's on PBS, they may be filtered through feedback, meme belching bursting bubbles from new wine 'nold vessels about to plode into eternity, singing along. Thank you, very much. May I introduce, duce, intro duce, y'gittin this? Duce means 2 if you see e squeen between, you see that? Fun. No reason for fun? Who here, now, believes that or, no, bees leavin' those lies be told? Hunh? Y'know? Watch man, waht of the night? See, what I mean? All this from me hearin' some guy say, "Come and see, like that was okeh. For any body, n'me, too. Thinking, as a past-time, is pointless. You know, if you act like it.
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Han fortalte hende, at han ville bytte hende "men er tidsfristen ikke nået efter 11 år?" Nej For der er en reklamationsfejl, Sagde han, Du gør mig ikke glad. Han har byttet hende til mig, Lille bitte mig, Og i min lykkerus leder jeg efter et byttemærke på mig selv
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Byttemærke
You want to tell your mother that she is digg ing your grave you need to show your little s ister that she is helping raised streaks and stre tch marks this baby has battle scars they may make you feel like you're feelings are invalid b ut your body is living proof there will always b e boys who reject you and old men with a thin g for green eyes who'll want to help you solve your daddy problems show your teeth confirm all the rumors that you're bat **** crazy you do n't owe anyone a smile when people call you bitte r spit in their faces you will always belong to you
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Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
your feelings are valid
Wet skies Grey dawn Blankets the coast. Black rocks Sea foam Triggers the most Atlantic applause, An encore to those Just hearty enough To make a life on The Rock. And to answer the call, Between stone cracks, Moss roots, And squalls, A garden was planted Where nothing Had grown Before. Before... Before the Gardener came The coast was a love-lettered painting, A bouquet to the sun, Orange, red, and yellow flattery Through living imitation. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God," Said the sign On the gate At the edge of St Johns. "But I think I've finally found it," Said the man Creeping silent With his too sharp sheers Cutting flowers Uninvited. - - Everyone's front lawn A memory Of what united Them for two score years. ****** hands dropping pedals on his way to the shore, "Don't worry," said the man, "I don't want to come back, With any luck," he said again, "I think this should be enough." As he placed in the arrangement A note that read, "Je suis Désolé. Bitte fragen Sie nicht Für mehr." 100 years ago, July 1st, 1916, the entire Newfoundland and Labrador regiment was killed at Beaumont-Hamel, during the Battle of the Somme in World War I. Of 780, only 68 reported for roll-call the next day. After 40 some years of having no military of their own, they had mustered up a unit of volunteers to support the war effort. 90% of them never made it through their first engagement. Canada Day isn't just about celebrating.
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Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
The Gardener
Wo immer du bist, was immer du tust Wie dir es auch geht - ob schlecht oder gut Sei dir bitte stets zu jeder Zeit treu, dem offnen Gespräch zu keiner Zeit scheu Schau öfter auf dich, hör andren gut zu Genieß was du hast und komm mal zur Ruh Die Zeit vergeht echt, schneller als man denkt Lebensmomente - das wahre Geschenk
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Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
Lebensmomente
Kiel, Germany. I know it's not even lunch yet, But I'm a poet, so this huge Beer has no bad feelings Attached to its coldness. All ice, hugs and barley. I love Germany this time Of the year. Guess I should Get back on the boat and wake up The woman, But there is something about Cold drops running down Glass to kiss a coaster that Makes me want to read what The cardboard says. So I expose it With the intentions of a literary Drunkard: Noch ein Bier Bitte. I guess there's poetry Everywhere To a writing man Who loves Beer enough To write about just One. Even in Germany.
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
Noch ein Bier, Bitte
Nur am Morgen Ich meochte es haben Geben sie mir brot bitte Welcher Unterschied besteht zwischen den beiden dingen? Man hat mir gesagt jeder weiss es Was ich muss tun Sonst nichts? bis zu ende Kommen Sie zu mir Dieser Tage only in the mornings I'd like to have it Give me some bread please what is the difference between the two things? I've been told everybody knows it what i must do Nothing else? until the end Come to me One of these days
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Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
Leben
Som tusindvis af kriblende myrer; Myrer der slæber rundt på en fyrenål, på små bitte kviste eller en lille klump sammenhængende jord, Som et stort kaotisk system af spinkle ben, følende horn og ækle insektkroppe, Et system med en usynlig og uigennemskuelig dagsorden, Samarbejdsvillige, Men med forskellige funktioner, Umulige at skelne fra hinanden , Forvirrende og spørgsmålsrejsende, Svage alene, Men revolutionerende og gennemslagskraftige sammen, Eksistensbetvivlende og formålsforvirrende, Hjerteskærende små myrer.
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
Tanker
Zu später Stund grüßen uns die Zweifel und in unseren Köpfen sagt die Angst der ungewissen Zukunft „Hallo“ Das große Nachdenken beginnt und lässt sämtliche Szenarien plötzlich so einfach, so nahe aber doch so fern wirken Gefangen in den eigenen Gedanken fällt die Flucht aus diesen imaginären wolkenartigen und schwebenden Konstrukten nicht gerade einfach Momente zwischen Realität und Gedankenspielen lassen uns an unseren Taten, Emotionen und Entscheidungen zweifeln lassen uns die Vergangenheit ***** passieren So unaufhaltsam und so plötzlich sich diese grauen Wolken in unseren Köpfen eingenistet haben so unvorhersehbarer verschwinden diese wieder Wach liegend in meinem viel zu großen Bett halte ich die Luft an schließe die viel zu schweren Augenlider meine unzähligen Gedanken fliegen umher von mir zu dir Mit der Hoffnung du fängst Sie ein
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Dec 4, 2022
Dec 4, 2022 at 5:21 PM UTC
Bitte nicht stören
In eine laufende Mühe mein Deutsch zu üben und verbessern, werde ich hierauf auf Deutsch mehr schreiben. Normalerweise werde ich versuchen Übersetzungen hinzufügen, aber werde das natürlich nicht immer das Fall sein. ;) - Wenn du Deutsch kennst, sollst du bitte mir helfen, mein Deutsch zu verbessern. Es ist nicht leicht auf eine fremde Sprache zu schreiben, geschweige gut. Geschweige wann es von so viele Leute so öffentlich kritisiert sein kann.
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
PSA
Brought a scent. Calliope and rapeseed;      a choir inhaled and then      indeed                Expelled! (your blessing) Bitte!
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Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
This Wind
Vielleicht steiger, Steigere ich mich da rein. Aber lieber steige ich irgendwo ein. Als ständig draussen zu stehn, Immer nur zu, zusehn Niemals nach meinem Gefühl zu gehn. Also komm mit her zu mir, Weit weg, fern von dir, Deinen Ängsten, dem jetzt und hier.
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Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
Einmal einsteigen, bitte !
Ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, begeistert grüßt und nicht vergisst, was wir gestern schrieben. Lachend liegen wir uns in den Armen. Es gibt so viel zu erzählen, Worte überschlagen sich. Du sagst: „Wo ist nur die Zeit geblieben? Ich muss los, ich seh dich morgen.“ Drehst dich nochmal um und winkst mir zu. Es ist schon spät, du seufzt leise. „Mach dir bitte keine Sorgen, wenn ich mich nicht melde. Ist grad viel los. Zu viel Stress, zu wenig Zeit. Du kennst das ja, bist live dabei. Nur kann ich grad nicht mehr.“ Und ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, besorgt begrüßt und nicht vergisst, zu fragen, wie diese Sache eigentlich ausging. Deine Worte sind Balsam für meine vernarbte Seele. Es tut gut, wieder mit dir zu reden. Wir schmunzeln über alte Zeiten, vergangene Tage und gehn‘ weiter unsere Wege. Es dauert lange, bis die nächste Nachricht kommt. Es dauert länger, bis die Antwort folgt. Doch ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, zögernd noch grüßt und schon vergisst, was ich dir erzähle, während die Worte noch zwischen uns hängen. Unsre Leben ziehen aneinander vorbei, wir sind nicht mehr im Takt. Die Sätze kommen abgehackt und mühsam. Du bist gehetzt, denn das Leben wartet nicht. Prioritäten sind gesetzt – und ich bin nicht dabei. Trotzdem ein: „Lass mal wieder bald was machen und so reden wie früher.“ Wir vereinbaren ein Treffen, von dem wir beide wissen, dass es nie stattfinden wird. Du siehst mir nicht in die Augen und ich kenne die Wahrheit, nicke traurig zu einer Lüge, die nur noch du aufrechterhältst. Denn ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, schon nicht mehr grüßt und eigentlich schon lange vergessen hast.
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May 7, 2023
May 7, 2023 at 6:41 PM UTC
Ich bin die...
Ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, begeistert grüßt und nicht vergisst, was wir gestern schrieben. Lachend liegen wir uns in den Armen. Es gibt so viel zu erzählen, Worte überschlagen sich. Du sagst: „Wo ist nur die Zeit geblieben? Ich muss los, ich seh dich morgen.“ Drehst dich nochmal um und winkst mir zu. Es ist schon spät, du seufzt leise. „Mach dir bitte keine Sorgen, wenn ich mich nicht melde. Ist grad viel los. Zu viel Stress, zu wenig Zeit. Du kennst das ja, bist live dabei. Nur kann ich grad nicht mehr.“ Und ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, besorgt begrüßt und nicht vergisst, zu fragen, wie diese Sache eigentlich ausging. Deine Worte sind Balsam für meine vernarbte Seele. Es tut gut, wieder mit dir zu reden. Wir schmunzeln über alte Zeiten, vergangene Tage und gehn‘ weiter unsere Wege. Es dauert lange, bis die nächste Nachricht kommt. Es dauert länger, bis die Antwort folgt. Doch ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, zögernd noch grüßt und schon vergisst, was ich dir erzähle, während die Worte noch zwischen uns hängen. Unsre Leben ziehen aneinander vorbei, wir sind nicht mehr im Takt. Die Sätze kommen abgehackt und mühsam. Du bist gehetzt, denn das Leben wartet nicht. Prioritäten sind gesetzt – und ich bin nicht dabei. Trotzdem ein: „Lass mal wieder bald was machen und so reden wie früher.“ Wir vereinbaren ein Treffen, von dem wir beide wissen, dass es nie stattfinden wird. Du siehst mir nicht in die Augen und ich kenne die Wahrheit, nicke traurig zu einer Lüge, die nur noch du aufrechterhältst. Denn ich bin die, die du auf der Straße triffst, schon nicht mehr grüßt und eigentlich schon lange vergessen hast.
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Erwin, bitte, bitte! I guess I should have told you first when I found your missing diary. So here I am, stuck in the kitty SuperMax. Yes, I am Schroedinger's cat trapped in a box with food, water, and air-- and an infernal machine. There's no way out-- no litter box either. I assure you that I'm alive-- for now-- But I wonder about the world outside-- Does it persist, has it vanished-- or is it in a more indeterminate state? If anyone is out there, please LET ME OUT! Because life goes on— for a while, How about some kitty litter, Bitte Schön?
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May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 12:13 PM UTC
Schroedinger's Cat
Guten Tag Hola Hello Wie gehts? Como estas? How are you? Es geht mir gut Bien Good Ya Si Yes Nein No No Tag Adios Bye Liebe Amor Love Bitte Por favor Please Danke gracias Thank you Three different ways to say things three different cultures But we are all the same We live our lives Work hard Take care of our families Doesn't matter what Laungages we speak as long as we all understand the same laungage "HUMAN"
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
Languages
Lodestone, lovesouls, the boundaries of my blue blooded lover Gentle mother with a fresh razor cut, do you know how much you hurt me? Chocolate and candy on the table of the mental ward, mental ************ Figuring out what works, our ways, our quarks, or muons and gluons Milk chocolate dissolving on your tongue, not bitten, forbidden, bitte fraulein Gloria, gloria, shalom, assalamu alaikum, hands out, shake 'em Pull the sword from the stone, water matters, patterns carved in bone Love is lone, dove, rain from above, mud, life is not crud, maybe
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
Border Blue
Who am I? I’m from the smell of seasons passing in the blink of an eye. The smell of spring, and summer, and fall, and the painful scent of winter. I’m from giggles in the car with Reginald and Rose the foxes and their adventures through worlds. I am from trips to the library, where I beg to get tens of thousands of books. From the dusty rocks on my elementary school playground. From songs that ring in my head when I close my eyes. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I gave to the dog. From phrases that sit in my soul and sing to me whenever I’m in the big wide world. Skate with your head up: Kommen Sie, Bitte: Let the knife do the work: Slow and gentle: One hand, From reading Hungry Little Caterpillar on the floor as my dad records me. I’m from singing Frozen at the top of my lungs in the living room. I’m from braces in second grade that wrenched and pulled my teeth. I’m from countless restless nights and early mornings; where the darkness coos to me to sleep. I’m from bear hugging my cousins, to laughing at their jokes that I never understood. I’m from Food Network in vacation hotel rooms. From chasing seagulls on the beach as I stomp on shells and salt sprays in my face. From making clay pots when the air was hot and sticky, and my skin was pink with sun. From my grandpa pretending to eat the Play Doh milkshake I made. From countless walks in the woods, where the birds sung to me, and the sunshine embraced me. I’m from losing people like water slips through cracks in the concrete. I’m from being the last to be chosen. I’m from being the friend that walks on the grass. The girl that was always left behind. I’m from being the second choice. The person someone picked another girl over. I’m from feeling like I’m constantly doing something wrong. I’m from looking up at the sky and wondering why they would hurt me like this. But most of all. I’m from throwing myself into people I love. Holding them tight. Even if they wriggle from my grasp. From screaming into the sky the names of people who love me. And people I never want to lose. From giving people my everything. From calling out into the world for someone to treat me the way I always treat everyone else. And the world answered. I’m from tears, to letting go of people who can’t handle me. From letting go of people who don’t understand me. I’m from healing. From forgiveness. From joy. So so much joy. I’m from the grass, and the wind, and the songs of the Earth and melodies of who I’m meant to be. From the flowers, the trees, the mountains, and the leaves. From the waterfalls hidden behind rocks that no one could see. From the magic the dances in the air. From years of love. I’m from me. A.J. Busse
0
Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 9:14 PM UTC
Who am I?
Who am I? I’m from the smell of seasons passing in the blink of an eye. The smell of spring, and summer, and fall, and the painful scent of winter. I’m from giggles in the car with Reginald and Rose the foxes and their adventures through worlds. I am from trips to the library, where I beg to get tens of thousands of books. From the dusty rocks on my elementary school playground. From songs that ring in my head when I close my eyes. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I gave to the dog. From phrases that sit in my soul and sing to me whenever I’m in the big wide world. Skate with your head up: Kommen Sie, Bitte: Let the knife do the work: Slow and gentle: One hand, From reading Hungry Little Caterpillar on the floor as my dad records me. I’m from singing Frozen at the top of my lungs in the living room. I’m from braces in second grade that wrenched and pulled my teeth. I’m from countless restless nights and early mornings; where the darkness coos to me to sleep. I’m from bear hugging my cousins, to laughing at their jokes that I never understood. I’m from Food Network in vacation hotel rooms. From chasing seagulls on the beach as I stomp on shells and salt sprays in my face. From making clay pots when the air was hot and sticky, and my skin was pink with sun. From my grandpa pretending to eat the Play Doh milkshake I made. From countless walks in the woods, where the birds sung to me, and the sunshine embraced me. I’m from losing people like water slips through cracks in the concrete. I’m from being the last to be chosen. I’m from being the friend that walks on the grass. The girl that was always left behind. I’m from being the second choice. The person someone picked another girl over. I’m from feeling like I’m constantly doing something wrong. I’m from looking up at the sky and wondering why they would hurt me like this. But most of all. I’m from throwing myself into people I love. Holding them tight. Even if they wriggle from my grasp. From screaming into the sky the names of people who love me. And people I never want to lose. From giving people my everything. From calling out into the world for someone to treat me the way I always treat everyone else. And the world answered. I’m from tears, to letting go of people who can’t handle me. From letting go of people who don’t understand me. I’m from healing. From forgiveness. From joy. So so much joy. I’m from the grass, and the wind, and the songs of the Earth and melodies of who I’m meant to be. From the flowers, the trees, the mountains, and the leaves. From the waterfalls hidden behind rocks that no one could see. From the magic the dances in the air. From years of love. I’m from me. A.J. Busse
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