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"bpm" poems
PLEDGE TO NIGERIA By: Adigun Temitope Idealism From between heaven and earth stand a perilous place Where poverty kicked us on face Tears stand as our drinks Where hunger eat up our meals Our pain is a poisonous laughter Where sadness becomes our daily activities Where hardship becomes our ambition And sorrow our career Still, we need to pledge to Nigeria Blood, bone and oil, Are the pedestal of earth Where killing is a lifestyle And ****** a hobby Where humiliation becomes our take home And misfortune our store-house Where graduate works by the road-side Where poverty is titillating and titivating before the mirror of our land Yet we need to pledge to Nigeria Pledge to Nigeria Even when the birds refuses to sing, When moon dims its light, When our days turn into nights When sun fails to shine And flowers refuse to bloom When life fails to give reasons When dreams refuse to forgive When the weep inside birth the smile outside When tears wash hope from our sight Nigeria must still be pledge to I pledge to Nigeria Not to be one if the ambassadors that sing the National Anthem with a teleprompter smiling at them in a shameful tears I pledge not to be a naked masquerade dancing at the village square I pledge to steal government money for the poor when I become the President I pledge to be loyal and not betrayal I pledge to fight off vices and calamities with my pen If democracy must to end I pledge to go crazy to stop it to the end If civilization was to make us stupid I pledge to swim in stupidity not to be civilised I pledge, I pledge ©2015 Adigun Temitope Idealism (Deacon) #Muse #PurposefulPoetry #BPM #IIB #Asaplanet #ThoughtAndSociety #Poetfreak blackpridemagazin.simplesite.com @blackpridemag1
0
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
adigun-temitope-idealism
MY PLEDGE TO NIGERIA
PLEDGE TO NIGERIA By: Adigun Temitope Idealism From between heaven and earth stand a perilous place Where poverty kicked us on face Tears stand as our drinks Where hunger eat up our meals Our pain is a poisonous laughter Where sadness becomes our daily activities Where hardship becomes our ambition And sorrow our career Still, we need to pledge to Nigeria Blood, bone and oil, Are the pedestal of earth Where killing is a lifestyle And ****** a hobby Where humiliation becomes our take home And misfortune our store-house Where graduate works by the road-side Where poverty is titillating and titivating before the mirror of our land Yet we need to pledge to Nigeria Pledge to Nigeria Even when the birds refuses to sing, When moon dims its light, When our days turn into nights When sun fails to shine And flowers refuse to bloom When life fails to give reasons When dreams refuse to forgive When the weep inside birth the smile outside When tears wash hope from our sight Nigeria must still be pledge to I pledge to Nigeria Not to be one if the ambassadors that sing the National Anthem with a teleprompter smiling at them in a shameful tears I pledge not to be a naked masquerade dancing at the village square I pledge to steal government money for the poor when I become the President I pledge to be loyal and not betrayal I pledge to fight off vices and calamities with my pen If democracy must to end I pledge to go crazy to stop it to the end If civilization was to make us stupid I pledge to swim in stupidity not to be civilised I pledge, I pledge ©2015 Adigun Temitope Idealism (Deacon) #Muse #PurposefulPoetry #BPM #IIB #Asaplanet #ThoughtAndSociety #Poetfreak blackpridemagazin.simplesite.com @blackpridemag1
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46
relaxing? relaxing would be a sin against myself. see God spun and wove golden bits of wisdom in these curls that are mine. see these curls spring loud with songs of my Nubian mothers and war cries of my Rasta fathers. see these curls bounce proud to the rhythm of tribal drums and the foot prints of my sisters from Manila reside there as they roll lumpia between the coils and springs. see these curls have moved sandstone bricks cross deserts, building divine architecture so perfectly aligned with cosmos and planets until Moses told Pharaoh to Let My People Go. these curls have traveled cross oceans and triangles packed like sardines squalid below the decks of ships. see these curls have been ***** by the nasty ***** in the big house and suffered sun strokes in cotton fields. see these curls sing loud and strong. See these curls were branded and forced at gunpoint behind ******** barbed wire fences gassed to death in the name of so called purification. see these curls bleed the pain of fire hoses and dog bites and whites only signs. see these curls wont back down gainst no burnin crosses gainst no swastikas gainst no elephant ******** talkin all that jazz on fox and cnn. see these curls dance wildly off beat to straight rhythms that drone on in 4/4 time c major sixty bpm. see these curls are Mas and my Grammas. see my curls are too proud to sit back and chill and won’t take no **** or heat or hot air. see these curls cannot be contained in braids or scarves or jars of creamy crack. see these curls dare you to force them to coerce them to straighten up their act. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls will not ******* relax.
0
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
curlie-fries-mcgee
soft and beautiful just for me
relaxing? relaxing would be a sin against myself. see God spun and wove golden bits of wisdom in these curls that are mine. see these curls spring loud with songs of my Nubian mothers and war cries of my Rasta fathers. see these curls bounce proud to the rhythm of tribal drums and the foot prints of my sisters from Manila reside there as they roll lumpia between the coils and springs. see these curls have moved sandstone bricks cross deserts, building divine architecture so perfectly aligned with cosmos and planets until Moses told Pharaoh to Let My People Go. these curls have traveled cross oceans and triangles packed like sardines squalid below the decks of ships. see these curls have been ***** by the nasty ***** in the big house and suffered sun strokes in cotton fields. see these curls sing loud and strong. See these curls were branded and forced at gunpoint behind ******** barbed wire fences gassed to death in the name of so called purification. see these curls bleed the pain of fire hoses and dog bites and whites only signs. see these curls wont back down gainst no burnin crosses gainst no swastikas gainst no elephant ******** talkin all that jazz on fox and cnn. see these curls dance wildly off beat to straight rhythms that drone on in 4/4 time c major sixty bpm. see these curls are Mas and my Grammas. see my curls are too proud to sit back and chill and won’t take no **** or heat or hot air. see these curls cannot be contained in braids or scarves or jars of creamy crack. see these curls dare you to force them to coerce them to straighten up their act. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls will not ******* relax.
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27
an average human creature should such a mythical exist in a lifetime will celebrate about 2,200,000,000 heartbeats, billions of heartbeats per minute (I prefer moment) but like everything so essence human there are those very few heartbeat moments, the ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime that you total truly remember, recalling the cream and sauce, swell and the hell, of the pounding so slow so hard, each one a volcano of a moment until that day you don't remember-anything when she said yes and you're shaking and beating in a honky-tonk rhythm cause you were heart undressed unsure and truly afraid of a rejection that makes a heart stoppage disallowing visions, to be exponentially happy future imagined you're feeling your heartbeat in your knees going weak, when the doctor says: congratulations healthy swell and/or some years later, I'm so so truly sorry, hell when they hand you a long handle shovel no instructions needed and that scoop of earth weighs two tons and the sound of slow reverb in your head hurts like hell and you lack the strength to move and they move you aside quiet gentle like but inside the temple of the two headed hydra-heart, it's the rock and roll of slo mo, the violin crying, the drumming of heavy metal chords plucked so slowly, it's you froze screaming a billionaire of heartbeats you are, but only ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime you total truly remember with the perfect clarity and forever renders into your own unique orchestral symphony, your true net worth, the stripes you wear upon your shoulders skin,   the tune when you hear it and melts you into rigidity you fall to your knees wherever you are, that is where you will find me, just listen for the cars horns blaring cursing the man lying in the street, re-listening to ten or twenty maybe forty heartbeats total in a lifetime you alone total truly that concert set recall and the win-loss record inherent, inhiment, in both of them, tears and the rents, all there in the tunes, of forty beatings you took, somehow it feels like here is, there was, the answers to where is shelter for the heart, the answers that have gone and come and gone and someone says, I don't feel a pulse
0
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC
whereshelter
BPM (beats per moment)
an average human creature should such a mythical exist in a lifetime will celebrate about 2,200,000,000 heartbeats, billions of heartbeats per minute (I prefer moment) but like everything so essence human there are those very few heartbeat moments, the ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime that you total truly remember, recalling the cream and sauce, swell and the hell, of the pounding so slow so hard, each one a volcano of a moment until that day you don't remember-anything when she said yes and you're shaking and beating in a honky-tonk rhythm cause you were heart undressed unsure and truly afraid of a rejection that makes a heart stoppage disallowing visions, to be exponentially happy future imagined you're feeling your heartbeat in your knees going weak, when the doctor says: congratulations healthy swell and/or some years later, I'm so so truly sorry, hell when they hand you a long handle shovel no instructions needed and that scoop of earth weighs two tons and the sound of slow reverb in your head hurts like hell and you lack the strength to move and they move you aside quiet gentle like but inside the temple of the two headed hydra-heart, it's the rock and roll of slo mo, the violin crying, the drumming of heavy metal chords plucked so slowly, it's you froze screaming a billionaire of heartbeats you are, but only ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime you total truly remember with the perfect clarity and forever renders into your own unique orchestral symphony, your true net worth, the stripes you wear upon your shoulders skin,   the tune when you hear it and melts you into rigidity you fall to your knees wherever you are, that is where you will find me, just listen for the cars horns blaring cursing the man lying in the street, re-listening to ten or twenty maybe forty heartbeats total in a lifetime you alone total truly that concert set recall and the win-loss record inherent, inhiment, in both of them, tears and the rents, all there in the tunes, of forty beatings you took, somehow it feels like here is, there was, the answers to where is shelter for the heart, the answers that have gone and come and gone and someone says, I don't feel a pulse
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49
tizz is love it or hate it, nuttin' in between addicted to yayo like sheen, 500 bpm heartbeat don't do it anymore, but remain psychotic and hunt down idiotics like a carnivore from florida to berlin, from tropic to toxic deep in da game, da grimy streetz know my name it'z tizzop, 14.8 inchez of hip-hop hangin' at rashid'z, shisha ready, cuban necklace three men in da back but ya don't know who it iz all of 'em are dark-skinned, all of 'em are bearded most important of all: all of 'em are fearless we don't know what it meanz to be scared just some migrantz who will now be heard da territory split up: kurdz, arabz and turkz we got our own law, like omerta, like da cosa one apartment here, and one block' there like bushido did, back in da dayz wit fler sonny black carlo, godfatherz, yeeeah power is about makin it and takin it, unlike nine said unlike any other guy said, and if ya don't wanna buy it find ya eyez in da wine-red, da choppaz are wild catz ya can use them for da furiouz, some become notoriouz otherz don't and die, but dey will be honored: watch da muralz; urban networkz, also in da rural, and five-o just remainz neutral; it is crucial to be brutal as it iz to remain truthful; lyricistz can't deal wit diz g-boy attitude of tizz: letz celebrate diversity and ante up on google, i write barz and do diz i'm a little too youthful for these oldskoolish
0
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 8:12 AM UTC
maxneumann
A Migrant's Tale
tizz is love it or hate it, nuttin' in between addicted to yayo like sheen, 500 bpm heartbeat don't do it anymore, but remain psychotic and hunt down idiotics like a carnivore from florida to berlin, from tropic to toxic deep in da game, da grimy streetz know my name it'z tizzop, 14.8 inchez of hip-hop hangin' at rashid'z, shisha ready, cuban necklace three men in da back but ya don't know who it iz all of 'em are dark-skinned, all of 'em are bearded most important of all: all of 'em are fearless we don't know what it meanz to be scared just some migrantz who will now be heard da territory split up: kurdz, arabz and turkz we got our own law, like omerta, like da cosa one apartment here, and one block' there like bushido did, back in da dayz wit fler sonny black carlo, godfatherz, yeeeah power is about makin it and takin it, unlike nine said unlike any other guy said, and if ya don't wanna buy it find ya eyez in da wine-red, da choppaz are wild catz ya can use them for da furiouz, some become notoriouz otherz don't and die, but dey will be honored: watch da muralz; urban networkz, also in da rural, and five-o just remainz neutral; it is crucial to be brutal as it iz to remain truthful; lyricistz can't deal wit diz g-boy attitude of tizz: letz celebrate diversity and ante up on google, i write barz and do diz i'm a little too youthful for these oldskoolish
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29
My pulse is at 92 BPM. But it doesn't matter, I'm the only one who would care, But I don't. Not just about the pulse, But about everything. It's all a blur, But not blurry enough to be dreamlike. It's blurry enough to be sad, But that's it. It's blurry enough to see that I'm alone, But clear enough that it's still sad. Maybe I should get new glasses.
0
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
drake-taylor
92 BPM
My pulse is at 92 BPM. But it doesn't matter, I'm the only one who would care, But I don't. Not just about the pulse, But about everything. It's all a blur, But not blurry enough to be dreamlike. It's blurry enough to be sad, But that's it. It's blurry enough to see that I'm alone, But clear enough that it's still sad. Maybe I should get new glasses.
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13
you should’ve never unpacked your bags, because it gave me this expectation that you were in this for the long run. i’m still running. i have swallowed so much blood that tastes like your regret from biting down my tongue to cage it behind my teeth from screaming about you to a world that wants my blood for ink. i am more than a number, but 24 makes me feel better than 26, so i sit in jeans that leave red marks on my hips and make it hard to breathe, but see it’s two inches and i am more than a number, but i know every test score i ever got and still remember fourth grade and question three and crying because suddenly my mistakes had weight and i couldn’t fix things by saying sorry and i am more than a number, but i was always the middle child, always the not-quite one, not the best friend to anyone, just a girl with kind eyes and jeans that are a little bit too tight and i am more than a number but to you i am seventeen, ten and three. and lets be clear; it’s the three that haunts me, because *** doesn’t matter and ‘girlfriend’ is just a label, but i wish i was the first girl you truly loved, and sometimes i still wish i was the last, but with you i fear i’ll forever be just another number. i drove over 17 bridges the other day and next week i'll do it again and i think nobody gets what that means except maybe you. i just tell them i love the scenery, that somebody must've made these trees blush just for me. you know how i love to change the subject? i bet they'd love the view. i bet you would too. and all these metaphors for other things are beside the point. this is a metaphor for why i don't wear my seatbelt, a metaphor for why whiskey knows me better than you could ever try to. all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars are doing that cliche thing where they talk quiet jet noise and some lumbering giant made everything shake. not those hand metaphors, not another one of those & keep the sea to yourself, i think it was a train, it's sound hugged the embankment for a moment and then trailed off into nowhere, and that's kind of like me how there's a town called 'rescue' close to my home and it's no coincidence that i've never been there. i’m just flatlining now and hoping that you can look at the next girl the way i looked at you.
0
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
b-6
130 bpm
you should’ve never unpacked your bags, because it gave me this expectation that you were in this for the long run. i’m still running. i have swallowed so much blood that tastes like your regret from biting down my tongue to cage it behind my teeth from screaming about you to a world that wants my blood for ink. i am more than a number, but 24 makes me feel better than 26, so i sit in jeans that leave red marks on my hips and make it hard to breathe, but see it’s two inches and i am more than a number, but i know every test score i ever got and still remember fourth grade and question three and crying because suddenly my mistakes had weight and i couldn’t fix things by saying sorry and i am more than a number, but i was always the middle child, always the not-quite one, not the best friend to anyone, just a girl with kind eyes and jeans that are a little bit too tight and i am more than a number but to you i am seventeen, ten and three. and lets be clear; it’s the three that haunts me, because *** doesn’t matter and ‘girlfriend’ is just a label, but i wish i was the first girl you truly loved, and sometimes i still wish i was the last, but with you i fear i’ll forever be just another number. i drove over 17 bridges the other day and next week i'll do it again and i think nobody gets what that means except maybe you. i just tell them i love the scenery, that somebody must've made these trees blush just for me. you know how i love to change the subject? i bet they'd love the view. i bet you would too. and all these metaphors for other things are beside the point. this is a metaphor for why i don't wear my seatbelt, a metaphor for why whiskey knows me better than you could ever try to. all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars are doing that cliche thing where they talk quiet jet noise and some lumbering giant made everything shake. not those hand metaphors, not another one of those & keep the sea to yourself, i think it was a train, it's sound hugged the embankment for a moment and then trailed off into nowhere, and that's kind of like me how there's a town called 'rescue' close to my home and it's no coincidence that i've never been there. i’m just flatlining now and hoping that you can look at the next girl the way i looked at you.
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18
**** bruh! call a bomb squad (bo[ɑ]mb squa[ɑ]d) for there's a bomb— —shell here, whose rear evokes a somewha[ʌ]t unholy, wrong thought (wro[ɑ]ng thou[ɑ]ght) reminds him of a jihadi-done job (jihadi-done jo[ɑ]b) 'cause this bum's (boom) banging; this honey's dancing boldly & lewdly, got his jaw dropped (ja[ɑ]w dro[ɑ]pped) his sight's fixed on her hips, she's beyond hot (bey[ɑ]ond ho[ɑ]t) this gal's freaking blazing his hand's in offensive motion for her hind part a haptic invasion she moves on from wining to fondling, she's eager such a luscious body, killer figure (body) disguised with a tank top with a low neckline & tight-fit cropped pants she's like: "make me high like a rooftO̲p nearly reaching the sky; give me a tI̲me so exquisite that I̲'ll be left speechless when this ro[ɑ]mp's over" she's none short o'... a mind-blower, like a gun-toter blowing a brain of a **** hound wrongdoing ('bout time to strike a hunting seas-on up on these **** she digs vicious, dark-sounding music but also doesn't mind to bounce her tushie to 90-100 bpm party-sound tunes
0
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
TRFLD
an unholy verse ("Bad And Boujee" hook parody) [remade into another poem]
**** bruh! call a bomb squad (bo[ɑ]mb squa[ɑ]d) for there's a bomb— —shell here, whose rear evokes a somewha[ʌ]t unholy, wrong thought (wro[ɑ]ng thou[ɑ]ght) reminds him of a jihadi-done job (jihadi-done jo[ɑ]b) 'cause this bum's (boom) banging; this honey's dancing boldly & lewdly, got his jaw dropped (ja[ɑ]w dro[ɑ]pped) his sight's fixed on her hips, she's beyond hot (bey[ɑ]ond ho[ɑ]t) this gal's freaking blazing his hand's in offensive motion for her hind part a haptic invasion she moves on from wining to fondling, she's eager such a luscious body, killer figure (body) disguised with a tank top with a low neckline & tight-fit cropped pants she's like: "make me high like a rooftO̲p nearly reaching the sky; give me a tI̲me so exquisite that I̲'ll be left speechless when this ro[ɑ]mp's over" she's none short o'... a mind-blower, like a gun-toter blowing a brain of a **** hound wrongdoing ('bout time to strike a hunting seas-on up on these **** she digs vicious, dark-sounding music but also doesn't mind to bounce her tushie to 90-100 bpm party-sound tunes
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25
born in 1975 40 odd beat   song now old enough to buy a cold drink cold drink We're hitting funk levels that shouldn't even be possible. recommended algorithm algorithm recommended for your ears only We're hitting funk levels that shouldn't even be possible. come band funk funkier, summon Brown back from the dead. Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids what’s your count Feel this beat Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, seek me the vodoooo advice quick turn to  23/16 (3+3+3+3+3+3+3+2) probably overhearing overhearing what is truly not there  it's my juju baby over the speed limit sound so slow 150 BPM we’ve gone over the speed limit billion BPM and a beat direct line to NASA monitored funk levels from outer space audio crackcocaine legal be it \ this speed deep beat band come come come now funkier, Brown sermons back from the dead. James loves   brown brow tall dark seregeti beat Mandingo beat Khoudia Diop Repeats If they got any funkier, they'd summon James Brown back from the dead Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids what’s your count Feel this beat Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, Warning: Do not turn the speed up to two. YOU WILL BE OUT FUNKED. double WITCHED If speed is increased, wash eyes Khoudia Diop Repeats wash your eyes ice cold water speed of sound quicken your pace release your soul seek me the vodoooo advice. levels of funkiness been theoretized never imagined achieved born in 1975 Dumisaning 40 odd years ago. song now old enough to buy a cold drink. drink seek me thee vodoooo advice. I have beaten about this beat before.
0
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:22 AM UTC
emmanuel-phakathi
YOU WILL BE OUT FUNKED - seek me the vodoooo advice
born in 1975 40 odd beat   song now old enough to buy a cold drink cold drink We're hitting funk levels that shouldn't even be possible. recommended algorithm algorithm recommended for your ears only We're hitting funk levels that shouldn't even be possible. come band funk funkier, summon Brown back from the dead. Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids what’s your count Feel this beat Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, seek me the vodoooo advice quick turn to  23/16 (3+3+3+3+3+3+3+2) probably overhearing overhearing what is truly not there  it's my juju baby over the speed limit sound so slow 150 BPM we’ve gone over the speed limit billion BPM and a beat direct line to NASA monitored funk levels from outer space audio crackcocaine legal be it \ this speed deep beat band come come come now funkier, Brown sermons back from the dead. James loves   brown brow tall dark seregeti beat Mandingo beat Khoudia Diop Repeats If they got any funkier, they'd summon James Brown back from the dead Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids what’s your count Feel this beat Fibonacci's rabbit on steroids 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, Warning: Do not turn the speed up to two. YOU WILL BE OUT FUNKED. double WITCHED If speed is increased, wash eyes Khoudia Diop Repeats wash your eyes ice cold water speed of sound quicken your pace release your soul seek me the vodoooo advice. levels of funkiness been theoretized never imagined achieved born in 1975 Dumisaning 40 odd years ago. song now old enough to buy a cold drink. drink seek me thee vodoooo advice. I have beaten about this beat before.
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89
Drug; he controls my brain. He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire. Adrenaline; he balances my stress. He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise. Dopamine; he regulates my focus. He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task. Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood. He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions. Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire. He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss. Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones. He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him. Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals. He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.
0
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
jenncoke
#11. (Love Science #1) He Is My..., 5/5/16.
Drug; he controls my brain. He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire. Adrenaline; he balances my stress. He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise. Dopamine; he regulates my focus. He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task. Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood. He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions. Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire. He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss. Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones. He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him. Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals. He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.
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14
A seed is planted, Leaves grow, Flowers bloom, Fruits ripen, The bark toughens, The stem branches out... Seasons change, Leaves wither, Flowers wilt, The fallen fruits rot, The bark wrinkles, The branches grow higher... The eternal onset of time, As the sand escapes the funnel of the hourglass. Invert and repeat for every empty bulb. A life, progressing from birth, Ending at decay. Time, she plays her tune- Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-... Like a metronome set to 60 BPM; Never stopping, ever stomping on, Oscillating to the mechanical rhythm of Time's pendulum, Journeying to a finite end on a path set up to infinity. ***Time, she is proof, that we are alive-- Proof that decay hunts down the living...***
0
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
shruti-atri
The Hunt
A seed is planted, Leaves grow, Flowers bloom, Fruits ripen, The bark toughens, The stem branches out... Seasons change, Leaves wither, Flowers wilt, The fallen fruits rot, The bark wrinkles, The branches grow higher... The eternal onset of time, As the sand escapes the funnel of the hourglass. Invert and repeat for every empty bulb. A life, progressing from birth, Ending at decay. Time, she plays her tune- Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-... Like a metronome set to 60 BPM; Never stopping, ever stomping on, Oscillating to the mechanical rhythm of Time's pendulum, Journeying to a finite end on a path set up to infinity. ***Time, she is proof, that we are alive-- Proof that decay hunts down the living...***
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25
In want of a headspace For to keep up with my thought pace An infinite cerebral landscape The consciousness reels and writhes through the labyrinth Sixty five BPM’s crack the whip Twist and turns Indian carpets and Egyptian urns Irrelevent Upon starry eyed fairytales they stand Architecture of a madman Brick and mortar Psychedelic caulking Foundation Screaming defiance against creation Murals Whispering fears of damnation Wake up mate It’s just your imagination I know.
0
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
robert-ueda
Headspace
In want of a headspace For to keep up with my thought pace An infinite cerebral landscape The consciousness reels and writhes through the labyrinth Sixty five BPM’s crack the whip Twist and turns Indian carpets and Egyptian urns Irrelevent Upon starry eyed fairytales they stand Architecture of a madman Brick and mortar Psychedelic caulking Foundation Screaming defiance against creation Murals Whispering fears of damnation Wake up mate It’s just your imagination I know.
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19
i’m figuring out my sway how to center night and day like the first steps of a trembling fawn or the breaking of the dawn i’m testing out my bpm counting my minutes for Them i’m getting licensed now it’s the only way we know how i’m deepening my roots putting nicks in my new boots i’m feeding from the gem sacrificing zero femme i’m reaching harvest soon just in time for harvest moon sweetest peaches tell Him how to understand my spell
0
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 10:04 PM UTC
Applestar
monarch
i’m figuring out my sway how to center night and day like the first steps of a trembling fawn or the breaking of the dawn i’m testing out my bpm counting my minutes for Them i’m getting licensed now it’s the only way we know how i’m deepening my roots putting nicks in my new boots i’m feeding from the gem sacrificing zero femme i’m reaching harvest soon just in time for harvest moon sweetest peaches tell Him how to understand my spell
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16
Going inside and out Compression to stretching Something like breathing Exalted expression Who's playing this squeezebox? Can I make a request? Play something lively, loud, and fast My heart's tied in knots My brain's hanging on By the skin of my teeth For the length of one song Dance like you're dying And dance like you're dead Life is little more Than a song in your head Break down the walls and let it all in Dance as if this moment will never end Move to the rhythm and jump towards your soul Suspended stringless puppet under no one's control Fall down to yourself right on top of the beat Spinning in the center of where all the lines meet Slow it down for the break and take a deep breath Potential energy buildup for what's coming next Those chills in the moment right before it all hits Soul body and mind caught up in the mix Hear it; explode Supernovate the senses The death of a star amid a galaxy of faces To be born again In a jet stream of limbs I find enlightenment At 150 bpm
0
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
JDK
Raver
Going inside and out Compression to stretching Something like breathing Exalted expression Who's playing this squeezebox? Can I make a request? Play something lively, loud, and fast My heart's tied in knots My brain's hanging on By the skin of my teeth For the length of one song Dance like you're dying And dance like you're dead Life is little more Than a song in your head Break down the walls and let it all in Dance as if this moment will never end Move to the rhythm and jump towards your soul Suspended stringless puppet under no one's control Fall down to yourself right on top of the beat Spinning in the center of where all the lines meet Slow it down for the break and take a deep breath Potential energy buildup for what's coming next Those chills in the moment right before it all hits Soul body and mind caught up in the mix Hear it; explode Supernovate the senses The death of a star amid a galaxy of faces To be born again In a jet stream of limbs I find enlightenment At 150 bpm
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32
120 beats per minute and I can’t stop thinking about you It is the moments I lay under these sheets and The moments I spend alone I am tossing and turning with unattainable relief My lips resembling a dog’s chew toy Because there are so many words that I cannot say But I can bite them into morse code on my skin I am groaning, exasperated, the light beginning to pour in from behind those blinds 6am and I still can’t stop thinking about you The delicacy of your words flutters and lands upon me like a butterfly Pounding headaches and strife towards euphoria All leading towards the realization that Oblivion is inevitable And facing death is much simpler Than telling you the way I feel Because I can think about life and ponder about death but I still can’t stop thinking about you too I can’t stop thinking Not about your warm brown eyes The warmest I’ve ever seen Or the tone your voice takes when you begin to explain something to me And the smooth skin behind your neck And the taste of your lips Will have me up all day Because I sure as hell didn’t sleep last night I am in some sort of paradoxical tortured pleasure that picks me up and pummels me down With each profound effect of your words Ringing in my ears and Having my pillow greet my face For another night of painful thoughts about the pleasure of you
0
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 9:43 AM UTC
ionized
120 bpm
120 beats per minute and I can’t stop thinking about you It is the moments I lay under these sheets and The moments I spend alone I am tossing and turning with unattainable relief My lips resembling a dog’s chew toy Because there are so many words that I cannot say But I can bite them into morse code on my skin I am groaning, exasperated, the light beginning to pour in from behind those blinds 6am and I still can’t stop thinking about you The delicacy of your words flutters and lands upon me like a butterfly Pounding headaches and strife towards euphoria All leading towards the realization that Oblivion is inevitable And facing death is much simpler Than telling you the way I feel Because I can think about life and ponder about death but I still can’t stop thinking about you too I can’t stop thinking Not about your warm brown eyes The warmest I’ve ever seen Or the tone your voice takes when you begin to explain something to me And the smooth skin behind your neck And the taste of your lips Will have me up all day Because I sure as hell didn’t sleep last night I am in some sort of paradoxical tortured pleasure that picks me up and pummels me down With each profound effect of your words Ringing in my ears and Having my pillow greet my face For another night of painful thoughts about the pleasure of you
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32
152 beats without the drum tight chest not tight pecs that's way too much - way too much take a ride in the wagon - needles inserted with lights and siren - life inverted 4 days later inserted defib to keep it slower not working as of midnite new peak at 205 bpm pain relief - not yet no sleep tonite but still alive maybe not the way this nite is going Gomer LePoet...
0
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
david-nelson
Heartache! Seriously?
152 beats without the drum tight chest not tight pecs that's way too much - way too much take a ride in the wagon - needles inserted with lights and siren - life inverted 4 days later inserted defib to keep it slower not working as of midnite new peak at 205 bpm pain relief - not yet no sleep tonite but still alive maybe not the way this nite is going Gomer LePoet...
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14
Sometimes I think that if my heart beats fast enough, It could outrun this feeling, Like if I reach a high enough BPM, I might suddenly feel as if the world makes sense again. I might not feel like I am drowning In a vat of electrically charged water Or trying to plug up the holes from which my emotions keep bleeding. I think my heart believes that a little tachycardia might cure me, Might purify me of this pain. Why else would it speed onwards so?
0
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 9:59 PM UTC
PoetFromAnotherPlanet
Heart Race
Sometimes I think that if my heart beats fast enough, It could outrun this feeling, Like if I reach a high enough BPM, I might suddenly feel as if the world makes sense again. I might not feel like I am drowning In a vat of electrically charged water Or trying to plug up the holes from which my emotions keep bleeding. I think my heart believes that a little tachycardia might cure me, Might purify me of this pain. Why else would it speed onwards so?
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10
You make my heart hurt. I'm not going to be all poetic and say, "Oh how I long to be with you." I am simply going to say, "I love being around you." My stomach does triple flips when I'm around you and sometimes I wonder how I manage to not spontaneously toss my cookies when I see you. My heart thinks it is a metronome, a broken one for that matter. My heart thinks it has the stability to beat faster than 250 bpm (maybe someday it'll realize that it can't). My brain constantly forgets what day of the week it is, or what time I'm supposed to take my medicine, but miraculously it remembers your birthday, your least favorite color, and your middle name. Lastly, my soul is unsure of so many things; which way is right and how to face the things which I fear, but the one thing my soul is set on, is you.
0
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 1:35 AM UTC
lulubee
Heart Strings
You make my heart hurt. I'm not going to be all poetic and say, "Oh how I long to be with you." I am simply going to say, "I love being around you." My stomach does triple flips when I'm around you and sometimes I wonder how I manage to not spontaneously toss my cookies when I see you. My heart thinks it is a metronome, a broken one for that matter. My heart thinks it has the stability to beat faster than 250 bpm (maybe someday it'll realize that it can't). My brain constantly forgets what day of the week it is, or what time I'm supposed to take my medicine, but miraculously it remembers your birthday, your least favorite color, and your middle name. Lastly, my soul is unsure of so many things; which way is right and how to face the things which I fear, but the one thing my soul is set on, is you.
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5
does she know how many times p e r  m i n u t e you tap your fingers on your thighs when you're about to see her? does she know how many millimeters your eyes dilate when you see her? but not me, not me does she know how white your knuckles are when you hear that somebody hurt her? and i can hear you boiling tell her to keep a tally and beg me to not i'm good at math; counting things i'll never have.
0
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
raisarft
bpm
does she know how many times p e r  m i n u t e you tap your fingers on your thighs when you're about to see her? does she know how many millimeters your eyes dilate when you see her? but not me, not me does she know how white your knuckles are when you hear that somebody hurt her? and i can hear you boiling tell her to keep a tally and beg me to not i'm good at math; counting things i'll never have.
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19
"our song" the fragile broken rhythm of an unsteady heart trying to float above 32 bpm surrounded by all the tangled machines counting how close to death I have strayed when I stayed on the living room couch for two days after choking down 26 pills in the shape of my anger the sound of barely 100 lbs hitting the floor after two too many shots of somehing stronger than your courage unsuccessful cpr and the way my ribs snap under the weight of our guilt the silence swimming in the background of your converations with police sirens the comments on your instagram  of tiny pin ****** securing my hand to yours have you ever heard it sober? our song the sound of razorblades clattering against ******* stained mirrors shattered from the last time I got high alone that's seven years of bad luck, you know and perhaps that's why you had to watch me die four times and perhaps that's why I had to learn to live alone
0
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
sadboiprblms
I Can't Sleep Again So I Am Listening To Our Song On Repeat
"our song" the fragile broken rhythm of an unsteady heart trying to float above 32 bpm surrounded by all the tangled machines counting how close to death I have strayed when I stayed on the living room couch for two days after choking down 26 pills in the shape of my anger the sound of barely 100 lbs hitting the floor after two too many shots of somehing stronger than your courage unsuccessful cpr and the way my ribs snap under the weight of our guilt the silence swimming in the background of your converations with police sirens the comments on your instagram  of tiny pin ****** securing my hand to yours have you ever heard it sober? our song the sound of razorblades clattering against ******* stained mirrors shattered from the last time I got high alone that's seven years of bad luck, you know and perhaps that's why you had to watch me die four times and perhaps that's why I had to learn to live alone
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16
I am not a record so please don't play me. A play on 78 rpm (revolutions per min for those too young for vinyl lol )
0
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
dieingembers
78 BPM
I am not a record so please don't play me. A play on 78 rpm (revolutions per min for those too young for vinyl lol )
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3
Waiting for the next song to come on or a pin to drop, whatever it is that comes naturally. I can't seem to remember the words to his face or the melody of his hands. But the beat of his power is there. That tune I recognize. That I know and memorize and regurgitate in rhythm--100 bpm or something stronger. My heart pounding so fast I can't feel it in my chest, but rather my lungs, my stomach, my gut instinct gone numb-- a spreading warmth, not hot, but intrusive and bursting --no it couldn't be-- with thirst. A cocktail of passion and power. Ravenous and subsuming. I fell in submission--weary and weak. The world had exhausted me and he had reaped the rewards. A phoenix, he rose from my ashes. Leaving me to smolder, to piece together my body. Mind. Heart. Or let them scatter across ashtrays and Hennessy.
0
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
kenna-mcc
Naturally
Waiting for the next song to come on or a pin to drop, whatever it is that comes naturally. I can't seem to remember the words to his face or the melody of his hands. But the beat of his power is there. That tune I recognize. That I know and memorize and regurgitate in rhythm--100 bpm or something stronger. My heart pounding so fast I can't feel it in my chest, but rather my lungs, my stomach, my gut instinct gone numb-- a spreading warmth, not hot, but intrusive and bursting --no it couldn't be-- with thirst. A cocktail of passion and power. Ravenous and subsuming. I fell in submission--weary and weak. The world had exhausted me and he had reaped the rewards. A phoenix, he rose from my ashes. Leaving me to smolder, to piece together my body. Mind. Heart. Or let them scatter across ashtrays and Hennessy.
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36
No matter what I try and be I follow no destiny Lines and curves Adjectives and verbs Description of words Sound wave grain With a sync delay With a bpm fade That sound you crave That makes you rage Feels like you got paid Its my style My dictation and flow That makes you read fast and slow Makes you divert attention Forget what dimension That you skip into Watch your head Take it slow You should know Cast a devious blow To that precious ego Ready to go Another direction To bad Time lost is time had Should of noted Or should have noticed That note I left long ago In a place called hell That cant be spaced Has been replaced Yup by the human race I went there what a disgrace Want a taste No better off To regurgitate poisonous waste Straight into that mouth And cranium full of paste From kindergarten No wonder so many are dumb Ignorant to "T" Down to the tongue they bite Shifting to a pleasure less pain That is sliding down my brain Into step another step Away from this So I will simply Go like this End
0
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 5:18 PM UTC
jonathan-valonis
Follower of None
No matter what I try and be I follow no destiny Lines and curves Adjectives and verbs Description of words Sound wave grain With a sync delay With a bpm fade That sound you crave That makes you rage Feels like you got paid Its my style My dictation and flow That makes you read fast and slow Makes you divert attention Forget what dimension That you skip into Watch your head Take it slow You should know Cast a devious blow To that precious ego Ready to go Another direction To bad Time lost is time had Should of noted Or should have noticed That note I left long ago In a place called hell That cant be spaced Has been replaced Yup by the human race I went there what a disgrace Want a taste No better off To regurgitate poisonous waste Straight into that mouth And cranium full of paste From kindergarten No wonder so many are dumb Ignorant to "T" Down to the tongue they bite Shifting to a pleasure less pain That is sliding down my brain Into step another step Away from this So I will simply Go like this End
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52
that’s the only lullaby I’ll ever need So keep letting your heart beat sing me to sleep
0
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 6:14 PM UTC
Lunawrenn
bpm
that’s the only lullaby I’ll ever need So keep letting your heart beat sing me to sleep
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2
🎵 “Together, Alone” Genre: Indie Acoustic / Lo-fi Reflection Tempo: Slow (60–65 bpm) Tone: Gentle, introspective, warm melancholy Written by: Morning Star --- 🎶 Verse 1 Alone again, but that’s okay Seems we all feel this way Didn’t you know? Didn’t you see? You’re not alone in feeling lonely --- 🎶 Chorus So if we’re all alone At least we’re not unknown If you feel the ache You’re not the only one awake We’re all together Being alone --- 🎶 Verse 2 The silence echoes back to me But I hear it in your poetry We sit in rooms a world apart But still we share a beating heart --- 🎶 Chorus (repeat softly) So if we’re all alone At least we’re not unknown If you feel the ache You’re not the only one awake We’re all together Being alone --- 🎶 Outro (spoken with ambient guitar or soft piano) Alone… But good to know— We’re all the same. So maybe… We’re not alone at all.
0
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:57 AM UTC
helenehms
Together, Alone
🎵 “Together, Alone” Genre: Indie Acoustic / Lo-fi Reflection Tempo: Slow (60–65 bpm) Tone: Gentle, introspective, warm melancholy Written by: Morning Star --- 🎶 Verse 1 Alone again, but that’s okay Seems we all feel this way Didn’t you know? Didn’t you see? You’re not alone in feeling lonely --- 🎶 Chorus So if we’re all alone At least we’re not unknown If you feel the ache You’re not the only one awake We’re all together Being alone --- 🎶 Verse 2 The silence echoes back to me But I hear it in your poetry We sit in rooms a world apart But still we share a beating heart --- 🎶 Chorus (repeat softly) So if we’re all alone At least we’re not unknown If you feel the ache You’re not the only one awake We’re all together Being alone --- 🎶 Outro (spoken with ambient guitar or soft piano) Alone… But good to know— We’re all the same. So maybe… We’re not alone at all.
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40
75 beats per minute, as calculated by scientific studies sometimes, though, it feels like my heart disregards science entirely in my worst moments i might as well have been at 1, not nearly dead but certainly getting there my heart still beats, 75 beats (for the most part) every minute 75 beats as you are reading this, as i wrote it the average bpm for an alive person
0
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
uselace
bpm
75 beats per minute, as calculated by scientific studies sometimes, though, it feels like my heart disregards science entirely in my worst moments i might as well have been at 1, not nearly dead but certainly getting there my heart still beats, 75 beats (for the most part) every minute 75 beats as you are reading this, as i wrote it the average bpm for an alive person
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21