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"bracelet" poems
stupid nike fuel bank the commercials said you'd work now all i have is a bracelet that doesn't measure when i twerk stupid nike fuel band
0
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
Nike Fuel Band
her rigorous objections are herded slowly down the sheep trail by studious pencil thin men with stylish mustache's who have deep pocket pickers for friends they gather round the weak willed and the willing alike looking for cheap thrills and spare change everybody needs a new road when the old one seems to never end but she with eyes cast down mumbles her unappeased desires as she shuffles a little closer to the truth as she sees it she has it all written out in secret languages she has books filled with life's coded thoughts as she see's them barn burners and dare devils grace the cover of her latest creation self titled to her own romantic name she is stylized in her own way so she adores the pencil thin men with their dashing devil may care good looks i wrote her a letter yesterday full of stories from the great highway full of chipper go getters and the glum go gotten she is a forever stone on a necklace she is a moonstone on a bracelet she is graceful when it counts and thats more than enough for me the pencil thin moustache men come to conquer the all night diners in the small shoreline towns but slink away in dawns first light with stolen smiles and borrowed kisses that they promise profusely to return tomorrow but never do such is the romantic night by her side such is the wonder-wheel days of our journey on the great highway
0
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
the pencil thin moustache men
auburn days roll by like the end of a lit cigarette, with a puff of smoke and emotionless lipstick stains. seasons pass like the whiskey bottle is drained to an end to drown those emotionless lipstick stains. tears tick by like the bottle of pills that cover the crisp bathroom floor escaping the pain of emotionless lipstick stains. life comes to a halt like the budding drops of crimson blood that paint my favorite bracelet running away from the emotionless lipstick stains.
0
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
emotionless
I’m sorry I wrote you. I’m sorry I’m as weak as I told you. I’m sorry I wasn’t lying. I’m sorry I never lied. I’m sorry for all the broken nights I’m sorry I couldn’t fix them. I’m sorry I couldn’t fix myself I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I messed everything up I’m sorry I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry I got tired of being alone I’m sorry the permanence makes it easier. I’m sorry you can’t write anymore. I’m sorry I never could. I’m sorry you couldn’t see yourself how I always saw you I’m sorry you can’t see what I still see. I’m sorry I loved you. I’m sorry I loved you harder than I’ve loved anyone else I’m sorry you made me question myself. I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m sorry I kept writing because I didn’t know how not to I’m sorry you told me I could. I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you said I should stop I’m sorry I didn’t listen when everyone said I should stop. I’m sorry I took all those nights seriously. I’m sorry I believed every word you said. Well…not every word. I’m sorry I became such a problem I’m sorry nobody listened to me. I’m sorry for being right. I’m sorry the permanence makes it easier. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I took the hit I’m sorry I asked you to do that I’m sorry I let you I’m sorry you didn’t listen. I’m sorry I couldn’t stand seeing the bracelet anymore Or the pictures Or the letters Or the poem. I’m sorry I can’t touch them without getting nauseous. I’m sorry the permanence makes it easier. I’m sorry I don’t even hurt that much anymore. I’m sorry I don’t think of you as often as I should I’m sorry you’re not sorry that I don’t think of you as often as I used to think I should I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m sorry you don’t care. I’m sorry I don’t believe your goodbye I’m sorry I don’t believe any of it. I’m sorry I don’t care. I’m sorry I sort of wish it was different I’m sorry I think this is probably for the best. I’m sorry I can’t be there to fix it I’m sorry you let me go. I’m sorry the other side of this coin is gone, Your half dozen of these tacos are still here, We never watched Finding Nemo. You never finished renaming the constellations. I’m sorry I never finished teaching them to you. I’m sorry bandanas are now out of your life I’m sorry you never wear sports bras. I’m sorry my hands feel empty and naked Now that yours are gone. I’m sorry your hand was the best thing that ever happened to mine. I’m sorry that was such a cheesy line. I’m sorry I want a hair-cut I’m sorry I want to chop it all off. I’m sorry you’ve ruined that side of town for me I’m sorry I’m no longer allowed. I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m sorry I would want to forget me too. I’m sorry I kept writing letters I’m sorry you never read them I’m sorry I never will again.
0
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 3:30 PM UTC
Useless
I’m sorry I wrote you. I’m sorry I’m as weak as I told you. I’m sorry I wasn’t lying. I’m sorry I never lied. I’m sorry for all the broken nights I’m sorry I couldn’t fix them. I’m sorry I couldn’t fix myself I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I messed everything up I’m sorry I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry I got tired of being alone I’m sorry the permanence makes it easier. I’m sorry you can’t write anymore. I’m sorry I never could. I’m sorry you couldn’t see yourself how I always saw you I’m sorry you can’t see what I still see. I’m sorry I loved you. I’m sorry I loved you harder than I’ve loved anyone else I’m sorry you made me question myself. I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m sorry I kept writing because I didn’t know how not to I’m sorry you told me I could. I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you said I should stop I’m sorry I didn’t listen when everyone said I should stop. I’m sorry I took all those nights seriously. I’m sorry I believed every word you said. Well…not every word. I’m sorry I became such a problem I’m sorry nobody listened to me. I’m sorry for being right. I’m sorry the permanence makes it easier. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I took the hit I’m sorry I asked you to do that I’m sorry I let you I’m sorry you didn’t listen. I’m sorry I couldn’t stand seeing the bracelet anymore Or the pictures Or the letters Or the poem. I’m sorry I can’t touch them without getting nauseous. I’m sorry the permanence makes it easier. I’m sorry I don’t even hurt that much anymore. I’m sorry I don’t think of you as often as I should I’m sorry you’re not sorry that I don’t think of you as often as I used to think I should I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m sorry you don’t care. I’m sorry I don’t believe your goodbye I’m sorry I don’t believe any of it. I’m sorry I don’t care. I’m sorry I sort of wish it was different I’m sorry I think this is probably for the best. I’m sorry I can’t be there to fix it I’m sorry you let me go. I’m sorry the other side of this coin is gone, Your half dozen of these tacos are still here, We never watched Finding Nemo. You never finished renaming the constellations. I’m sorry I never finished teaching them to you. I’m sorry bandanas are now out of your life I’m sorry you never wear sports bras. I’m sorry my hands feel empty and naked Now that yours are gone. I’m sorry your hand was the best thing that ever happened to mine. I’m sorry that was such a cheesy line. I’m sorry I want a hair-cut I’m sorry I want to chop it all off. I’m sorry you’ve ruined that side of town for me I’m sorry I’m no longer allowed. I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m sorry I would want to forget me too. I’m sorry I kept writing letters I’m sorry you never read them I’m sorry I never will again.
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74
I grew up taking hits from my big brother, I grew up on "boys' weekend" camping trips, I grew up with my father calling me a princess but calling my brothers rock stars, I grew up watching Boy Scout meetings from the back of the room, I grew up on LEGOs and Hot Wheels and I still remember the year my brothers got Nerf guns for Christmas and I got a bracelet, I remember being shot with foam bullets and having no way to fight back, but at least I looked pretty. I remember seeing my dad leave for work every morning and wondering why my mom never did, I remember wanting to be an astronaut, but my brother told me moms have to stay home. The phrase stop being a girl is branded into my mind and I still curse myself every day for the organs I was born with. I remember the year my brothers went as zombies for Halloween and I had to go as a princess, I remember bringing a fake butcher's knife because a princess is not scary. I grew up on manhood meaning strength and manhood meaning confidence and manhood meaning respect and I still wear dresses and my dad still calls me a princess but I'll be ****** if you tell me I'm not a man.
0
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Manhood
In a time, when men were the superheroes, born in an unconventional location, a young girl, unknown to the future she was destined to, was born with a uniqueness unfound in all people, a superpower of empathy and as she grew, the world knew she was imbued as a living embodiment of legends: Athena's wisdom, beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite, conversational skills that made Hermes envious, and strength that Hercules could never attain. As she approached an age, when her parents would trust her to be guardian, her powers manifested. This incredible child was now a woman. With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge poison that had afflicted a person, even their hearts, a God-given gift for those most sacred; her correspondences exponentially developed, able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature, this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity. Now, fully grown, this super-no- This Wonder Woman had retired her duties to save the world, not forsake it, but, to train Wonder Girl, her daughter, to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her. She still looks up at the Higher Power and realizes her duty to provide the world justice is not over but only beginning. Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged and was gifted a bulletproof bracelet, forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction of all that is wise and healing. Given to her to wear so that nothing could halt her as she continues her fate to provide the world a humanity that could only come from an intrinsically true dear heart.
0
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
Ode to Mama
In a time, when men were the superheroes, born in an unconventional location, a young girl, unknown to the future she was destined to, was born with a uniqueness unfound in all people, a superpower of empathy and as she grew, the world knew she was imbued as a living embodiment of legends: Athena's wisdom, beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite, conversational skills that made Hermes envious, and strength that Hercules could never attain. As she approached an age, when her parents would trust her to be guardian, her powers manifested. This incredible child was now a woman. With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge poison that had afflicted a person, even their hearts, a God-given gift for those most sacred; her correspondences exponentially developed, able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature, this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity. Now, fully grown, this super-no- This Wonder Woman had retired her duties to save the world, not forsake it, but, to train Wonder Girl, her daughter, to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her. She still looks up at the Higher Power and realizes her duty to provide the world justice is not over but only beginning. Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged and was gifted a bulletproof bracelet, forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction of all that is wise and healing. Given to her to wear so that nothing could halt her as she continues her fate to provide the world a humanity that could only come from an intrinsically true dear heart.
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49
hush, abi please! if we stay here nothing bad will happen to us pinky promise, alright? mommy and daddy will be back soon and we can lie here all together the four of us can lie right here, cradled by the grass and the stars will come out for us we can make our own constellations, how does that sound? when mommy and daddy find us we will name it whatever you want, they will love it oh, abi, please don’t cry the scary loud sounds? those were fireworks, the brightest, most colorful fireworks that exist keep looking up, abi, you’ll see them soon who lit them? why, the night sky sent its own just for us that’s why there were two, one for you and one for me they are made of shooting stars and instead of smoke they leave behind cosmic dust, that’s what makes them so beautiful when mommy and daddy come back, two will be lit for them, you’ll see but now stay here with me, i know it is cold, but please try not to move we can become two blades of grass, but only if you close your eyes, no peeking! in the morning we can splash our faces with sweet dew and say hello to traveling ladybugs we can dance to melody of the bird’s flapping wings, we will hear so many different sounds and colors we can watch all the fireworks we want, the pretty ones i told you about abi, stop shaking, it will be okay those steps are mommy and daddy walking to us they want to be grass with us, all of our roots can be threaded together like a bracelet and we can be so happy don’t open your eyes promise you will keep them shut tight, you can only look when you hear the fireworks the sky will light up for them i won’t open my eyes either pinky promise, alright? we will soon be velvety soft, we will live in our garden with mommy and daddy here they come! now hold my hand, that way we will be planted together it will be mommy, daddy, me, and you - Abilene watching fireworks paint the sky forever.
0
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Abilene
hush, abi please! if we stay here nothing bad will happen to us pinky promise, alright? mommy and daddy will be back soon and we can lie here all together the four of us can lie right here, cradled by the grass and the stars will come out for us we can make our own constellations, how does that sound? when mommy and daddy find us we will name it whatever you want, they will love it oh, abi, please don’t cry the scary loud sounds? those were fireworks, the brightest, most colorful fireworks that exist keep looking up, abi, you’ll see them soon who lit them? why, the night sky sent its own just for us that’s why there were two, one for you and one for me they are made of shooting stars and instead of smoke they leave behind cosmic dust, that’s what makes them so beautiful when mommy and daddy come back, two will be lit for them, you’ll see but now stay here with me, i know it is cold, but please try not to move we can become two blades of grass, but only if you close your eyes, no peeking! in the morning we can splash our faces with sweet dew and say hello to traveling ladybugs we can dance to melody of the bird’s flapping wings, we will hear so many different sounds and colors we can watch all the fireworks we want, the pretty ones i told you about abi, stop shaking, it will be okay those steps are mommy and daddy walking to us they want to be grass with us, all of our roots can be threaded together like a bracelet and we can be so happy don’t open your eyes promise you will keep them shut tight, you can only look when you hear the fireworks the sky will light up for them i won’t open my eyes either pinky promise, alright? we will soon be velvety soft, we will live in our garden with mommy and daddy here they come! now hold my hand, that way we will be planted together it will be mommy, daddy, me, and you - Abilene watching fireworks paint the sky forever.
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34
“i haven’t seen her in years,” said the hospital bed, “though i’ve seen many others, who sobbed violently like her, who sunk into me like a young, rusting anchor. who could not get comfortable in one position or one mindset or one truth. i have felt them dig in their heels and try to ache and and fight and scream, just quietly enough not to wake their roommate.” “i remember their shapes,” said the hospital bed, “how their voices rose slowly like a far-off ambulance siren, how their faces fell when they remembered the emergency was right here. i have been kicked, punched, clung to, held on to, as if gravity switched suddenly and they feared yet another aspect of the universe was against them. i’ve seen ***** sheets and i’ve seen clean ones. i’ve seen boys with tattoos on their faces and razor marks on their arms. i’ve seen pain. i’ve seen girls who wouldn’t turn off the lights, girls who couldn’t turn off the lights, girls who had turned a light off once and never wanted to do anything else. i’ve seen pain. i’ve felt love before more often than the lovers thought they loved, more strongly than the fighters thought they could fight. in shaky hands folding down blankets more carefully than they have all week in heads that flop ungracefully onto pillows, securely, fulfilled. in the slow turn of a hospital bracelet around a pale wrist, in large, golden brown hands, inspected through tear-blurred eyes, through scratched glasses, picked up off the floor after discovering force won’t carry a ring of thin plastic as far as you thought. i hear change in whispers, good night, good luck, in hushed acceptance, in ‘yes, i really am here’. in screams that send nurses in panic only to find you were laughing. in numbers, in ‘five hundred milligrams,’ in ‘three gained pounds’, in ‘one more day’. i hear shock, i hear fear, in echoes of parents’ voices, ‘why here? why now?’ i have heard and seen and felt all of them. but she,” continued the hospital bed, “hasn’t been in here in a while. i haven’t heard her whisper to her roommate about what she did ‘that night’, i haven’t seen her sneak away from her pile of pajamas as if she didn’t just hide something there, i haven’t heard her empathize with a pencil sharpener. it’s been so long, it’s hard to imagine,” said the hospital bed, ‘i hardly remember her'. if only the hospital bed knew that she could hardly remember herself from then either, if only it knew she hadn't stopped fighting once she left if only it knew how she felt when they said she only needed to go to therapy every other week. it felt like progress, and it felt like hope, and no one better than a hospital bed could understand that.
0
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Hospital Bed Said
“i haven’t seen her in years,” said the hospital bed, “though i’ve seen many others, who sobbed violently like her, who sunk into me like a young, rusting anchor. who could not get comfortable in one position or one mindset or one truth. i have felt them dig in their heels and try to ache and and fight and scream, just quietly enough not to wake their roommate.” “i remember their shapes,” said the hospital bed, “how their voices rose slowly like a far-off ambulance siren, how their faces fell when they remembered the emergency was right here. i have been kicked, punched, clung to, held on to, as if gravity switched suddenly and they feared yet another aspect of the universe was against them. i’ve seen ***** sheets and i’ve seen clean ones. i’ve seen boys with tattoos on their faces and razor marks on their arms. i’ve seen pain. i’ve seen girls who wouldn’t turn off the lights, girls who couldn’t turn off the lights, girls who had turned a light off once and never wanted to do anything else. i’ve seen pain. i’ve felt love before more often than the lovers thought they loved, more strongly than the fighters thought they could fight. in shaky hands folding down blankets more carefully than they have all week in heads that flop ungracefully onto pillows, securely, fulfilled. in the slow turn of a hospital bracelet around a pale wrist, in large, golden brown hands, inspected through tear-blurred eyes, through scratched glasses, picked up off the floor after discovering force won’t carry a ring of thin plastic as far as you thought. i hear change in whispers, good night, good luck, in hushed acceptance, in ‘yes, i really am here’. in screams that send nurses in panic only to find you were laughing. in numbers, in ‘five hundred milligrams,’ in ‘three gained pounds’, in ‘one more day’. i hear shock, i hear fear, in echoes of parents’ voices, ‘why here? why now?’ i have heard and seen and felt all of them. but she,” continued the hospital bed, “hasn’t been in here in a while. i haven’t heard her whisper to her roommate about what she did ‘that night’, i haven’t seen her sneak away from her pile of pajamas as if she didn’t just hide something there, i haven’t heard her empathize with a pencil sharpener. it’s been so long, it’s hard to imagine,” said the hospital bed, ‘i hardly remember her'. if only the hospital bed knew that she could hardly remember herself from then either, if only it knew she hadn't stopped fighting once she left if only it knew how she felt when they said she only needed to go to therapy every other week. it felt like progress, and it felt like hope, and no one better than a hospital bed could understand that.
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85
I collect memories of you and wear them like a charm bracelet They delicately dangle and glint in the sun like tiny wind chimes You are cast in silver cold to the touch, yet warm on my wrist Chain-link ringlets coil closer than your hair loose clasp, smooth hands Flawless fractals falling one by one
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Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
Charms
I threw that stupid bracelet out the drivers side window as I sat in the parking lot of the liquor store. I was hoping that someone would come across it and not know it's history. Maybe it would be found by someone happy, or a little kid who spots the beads spread out on the concrete. Or maybe it would just get crushed by the tires of a car. I went inside the store, bought what I came for... And then walked over and picked it up before driving away.
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
Dumb bracelet
Ask me how I’m doing and I’ll make it sell, Tell you all is well, When all is hell, Falling through the sky, Ain't hit the ground yet, Just me and God here playing Russian roulette, The wage is set, A bet’s a bet, Final stages of rage but my mind won’t reset, Mental vegan, seeking only the raw truth, I got a residence in present tense, And the future on mute , I could be wrong, But at least I have the courage to face it, My word is gold, Yours is a fake *** bracelet, Three steps to forgiveness, But life ain’t a waltz, It’s a dance with the devil, And he leads till you’re lost, You see I paid the cost and got nothing back, But pages of thoughts and a midnight snack, They call it "hell and back", Ah the hell with that, I’m burning for my sins, No matter what the habitat, Fully packed and ready to die, I’m ditching this life like a runaway bride, Too young to hide but never too old, To wreak absolute havoc with the anger I hold , I’m as real as pain, Yet far from a heathen, Only reason I left heaven, Was to make peace with my demons, Problem is they just want to get even, And now I'm barely breathing, Barely sleeping at night, So to answer your question, No I ain't alright.
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
Midnight Thoughts
My braided faded bracelet Is hidden in a box Always there to remind me Of something that I lost My braided faded bracelet The colors now so light I found they weren't long lasting Just like my feelings that blurry night My braided faded bracelet Came from a man That I barely knew But that might've been the plan My braided faded bracelet From that man, he knew That I wasn't ready Even though I wanted to My braided faded bracelet What it means they'll never know Because I know what they will say They'll say I told you so My braided faded bracelet A sign I'm one with the rest Heard your first is never good but I Thought I'd be different
0
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 11:06 PM UTC
My Braided Faded Bracelet
semi-sarcastic fully somatic cigarette addict bracelet wearer ramen noodle sharer and nothing else.
0
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
attendance
And I always find, yeah, I always find something wrong You been putting up with my **** just way too long I'm so gifted at finding what I don't like the most So I think it's time for us to have a toast Let's have a toast for the ********** Let's have a toast for the ******** Let's have a toast for the scumbags Every one of them that I know Let's have a toast for the jerk-offs That'll never take work off Baby, I got a plan Run away fast as you can [Verse 1: Kanye West] She find pictures in my e-mail I sent this ***** a picture of my **** I don't know what it is with females But I'm not too good with that **** See, I could have me a good girl And still be addicted to them hoodrats And I just blame everything on you At least you know that's what I'm good at [Hook] [Bridge] Run away from me, baby, run away Run away from me, baby, run away It's about to get crazy, why can't she just, run away? Baby, I got a plan, run away fast as you can [Verse 2 - Pusha T] 24/7, 365, ***** stays on my mind I-I-I-I did it, all right, all right, I admit it Now pick your next move, you could leave or live wit' it Ichabod Crane with that ************* top off Split and go where? Back to wearing knockoffs, haha Knock it off, Neiman's, shop it off Let's talk over mai tais, waitress, top it off Hoes like vultures, wanna fly in your Freddy loafers You can't blame 'em, they ain't never seen Versace sofas Every bag, every blouse, every bracelet Comes with a price tag, baby, face it You should leave if you can't accept the basics Plenty hoes in the balla-nigga matrix Invisibly set, the Rolex is faceless I'm just young, rich, and tasteless P! [Verse 3: Kanye West] Never was much of a romantic I could never take the intimacy And I know I did damage Cause the look in your eyes is killing me I guess you are at an advantage Cause you can blame me for everything And I don't know how I'mma manage If one day you just up and leave
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Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
Runaway
And I always find, yeah, I always find something wrong You been putting up with my **** just way too long I'm so gifted at finding what I don't like the most So I think it's time for us to have a toast Let's have a toast for the ********** Let's have a toast for the ******** Let's have a toast for the scumbags Every one of them that I know Let's have a toast for the jerk-offs That'll never take work off Baby, I got a plan Run away fast as you can [Verse 1: Kanye West] She find pictures in my e-mail I sent this ***** a picture of my **** I don't know what it is with females But I'm not too good with that **** See, I could have me a good girl And still be addicted to them hoodrats And I just blame everything on you At least you know that's what I'm good at [Hook] [Bridge] Run away from me, baby, run away Run away from me, baby, run away It's about to get crazy, why can't she just, run away? Baby, I got a plan, run away fast as you can [Verse 2 - Pusha T] 24/7, 365, ***** stays on my mind I-I-I-I did it, all right, all right, I admit it Now pick your next move, you could leave or live wit' it Ichabod Crane with that ************* top off Split and go where? Back to wearing knockoffs, haha Knock it off, Neiman's, shop it off Let's talk over mai tais, waitress, top it off Hoes like vultures, wanna fly in your Freddy loafers You can't blame 'em, they ain't never seen Versace sofas Every bag, every blouse, every bracelet Comes with a price tag, baby, face it You should leave if you can't accept the basics Plenty hoes in the balla-nigga matrix Invisibly set, the Rolex is faceless I'm just young, rich, and tasteless P! [Verse 3: Kanye West] Never was much of a romantic I could never take the intimacy And I know I did damage Cause the look in your eyes is killing me I guess you are at an advantage Cause you can blame me for everything And I don't know how I'mma manage If one day you just up and leave
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53
does my cross bracelet make me a Christian? does my Gandhi necklace "be the change you wish to see in the world" make me peaceful? does my jewelry make me a woman?
0
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
adorned
The ring defines power and marriage of love         The necklace defines the heart and neck        The pendant styles it up         The bracelet is wraps around the wrist against the veins         Ankle bracelet kinda means like I'm Hawaiian Earrings resemble how your choices can dangle beyond your life a hole in Life where there can be light or darkness
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Jewelry
Fire burning in front of you and I! Shining so bright those beautiful black eyes! Colours of our love dispersed in the air! My hands stuck in your messy hair! Different shades of yours are out now! Colours all over still you look so pretty, how? You are still shining so bright! The bracelet of your hand reflecting sunlight! Dancing like idiots, wet and cold! I just love the way you hold! Hold my hand tight and close to your heart! Oh believe me you’re a brilliant work of art! -Vivek!
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Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
Holi!
the sky sinks its blue teeth into the mountains. Rising on pure will (the lurch & lift-off, the sudden swing into wide, white snow), I encourage the cable. Past the wind & crossed tips of my skis & the mauve shadows of pines & the spoor of bears & deer, I speak to my fear, rising, riding, finding myself the only thing between snow & sky, the link that holds it all together. Halfway up the wire, we stop, slide back a little (a whirr of pulleys). Astronauts circle above us today in the television blue of space. But the thin withers of alps are waiting to take us too, & this might be the moon! We move! Friends, this is a toy merely for reaching mountains merely for skiing down. & now we're dangling like charms on the same bracelet or upsidedown tightrope people (a colossal circus!) or absurd winged walkers, angels in animal fur, with mittened hands waving & fear turning & the mountain like a fisherman, reeling us all in. So we land on the windy peak, touch skis to snow, are married to our purple shadows, & ski back down to the unimaginable valley leaving no footprints.
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4k
For an Earth-Landing
My sister is a beauty, A photographer, an artist And the best subject imaginable. She is the main attraction of my coffee shop, She’s the mainstay of Main Street. Unlike every other woman I know, She only carries her camera and her dignity. And the gaze of a mirror; Her plaid shirt, oversized even when it was mine. A pair of tights earning their title And sky-high leather boots, a rocker’s staple. A cheesy beret, our mother’s bracelet. Blonde locks like there are teardrops on her guitar. And to complete the classic ensemble, Satan’s prized pearls: The Cheshire Cat smile. All tucked behind her expensive-as-hell camera. And her phone, case with white box and black bow. Just like my baby sister, A photograph with a black bow.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
Pamela the Polaroid
My Pastor said hi last Sunday morn Asked how I was and said bless you my son He invited me to join the men's group there That met after church at a quarter to four I froze in my seat unable to speak How should I reply without sounding weak To make him know and understand It would be dishonest to join a group for men I know that my body still looks mostly male But hadn't he a hint or even a clue From my painted nails, earrings or perfume Or the pink bracelet I wore on my arm I smiled and replied that I'd give it some thought But I realized that was really an easy way out I wanted to somehow make him know That God made me transgender Though sometimes it doesn't show Join the men's group no i can never do that but the ladies group yes I would really enjoy that But they will never accept that or understand why And it would sound very odd if I tried to explain So this transgender Christian will sit quiet and smile Knowing just who I am, next to God all the while © Lj Mark 2015
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
The men's group
On Monday, November 14th She wore her favorite dress. Blue with grace. Lace that covered her shoulders. Lace that teased all the men that walked by. Falling to her knees. Barely brushing the scabs and scars that sat there. Hugging her hips like the night hugs the moon. On Monday, November 14th She smiled. Cherry lipgloss smeared quickly across her thin lips. White teeth peaking out. Her lips perfectly outlined. The corners tucked up beautifully. On Monday, November 14th, She stood. Pride in her perfect posture. Proud of her lean body. Her body perfectly aligned. Not a flaw. On Monday, November 14th Her arms were pale. A gold bracelet hugged her wrist. You could see each blue stream, happily working. Dusted with freckles. Soft and pure. On Tuesday, November 15th She did not wear her favorite dress. She wore a different one. Black with sorrow. No lace. Falling to her ankles. Encasing scabbed knees. Hugging her in all the wrong places. On Tuesday, November 15th She frowned. Blood red lipstick stained her thin lips. Her teeth hid inside her blooded lips. The corners fell, drooped. On Tuesday, November 15th, She sat. Too exhausted to stand. She let go of her posture. She was cautious of her appearance. Aware of her flaws. On Tuesday, November 15th, Her arms were whiter than before. Each vein slashed. Red. The gold bracelet still hung there. Her freckles throbbed with pain. No longer soft, or pure. On Tuesday, November 15th He died. Early in the morning. With him, he took her strength, her smile, her pride. He left her bare. On Wednesday, November 16th She missed him. She missed him a little too much. Her heart couldn't take it. Her eyes red and swollen. She was there, but gone. On Thursday, November 17th She joined him, quietly.
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Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 9:53 AM UTC
November
On Monday, November 14th She wore her favorite dress. Blue with grace. Lace that covered her shoulders. Lace that teased all the men that walked by. Falling to her knees. Barely brushing the scabs and scars that sat there. Hugging her hips like the night hugs the moon. On Monday, November 14th She smiled. Cherry lipgloss smeared quickly across her thin lips. White teeth peaking out. Her lips perfectly outlined. The corners tucked up beautifully. On Monday, November 14th, She stood. Pride in her perfect posture. Proud of her lean body. Her body perfectly aligned. Not a flaw. On Monday, November 14th Her arms were pale. A gold bracelet hugged her wrist. You could see each blue stream, happily working. Dusted with freckles. Soft and pure. On Tuesday, November 15th She did not wear her favorite dress. She wore a different one. Black with sorrow. No lace. Falling to her ankles. Encasing scabbed knees. Hugging her in all the wrong places. On Tuesday, November 15th She frowned. Blood red lipstick stained her thin lips. Her teeth hid inside her blooded lips. The corners fell, drooped. On Tuesday, November 15th, She sat. Too exhausted to stand. She let go of her posture. She was cautious of her appearance. Aware of her flaws. On Tuesday, November 15th, Her arms were whiter than before. Each vein slashed. Red. The gold bracelet still hung there. Her freckles throbbed with pain. No longer soft, or pure. On Tuesday, November 15th He died. Early in the morning. With him, he took her strength, her smile, her pride. He left her bare. On Wednesday, November 16th She missed him. She missed him a little too much. Her heart couldn't take it. Her eyes red and swollen. She was there, but gone. On Thursday, November 17th She joined him, quietly.
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Florescent lights An unbreakable chill Patterned tile Shaking bones An over-sized blue gown And a small white bracelet
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Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
Hospital