"bunch" poems
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water,
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I alone can contend against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Curl round me as though you were frightened.
Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your ******* smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
Until I even believe that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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A fine mole down
the blue mountain sky
cannot be weighed out!
It's the cosmos's gold dust
the earthy depth triumphs.
Oh earth, our close clay-star
is far ahead of the day at noon.
Ahead of the moon
ahead of the Neptune!
With a million dash of curiosity
every new sunrise paints
upon her black box with the roaring fire.
Yet the ****** is a veiled wonder!
It has the plethora a room for everyone
and time for timeless times.
Guess, with her longhand
what an inside scoop did it pick out?
You too can be in the know
It's the feminine beauty all in all.
You may have by now
seen women million and one.
The earth is eyeing on only one!
Her closest admirer is the star
of the very luminary bunch
with open eyes in the hearts.
Her dead man is waking up
sniffing the daylight by her.
Yet to make the discovery
both are still wondering outside!
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
I bought a bunch of wooden soldiers.
I bought them from the store.
And now a hundred tiny soldiers
guard my bedroom door.
So if you're a scary monster-thing
who wants to go to war,
my bedroom door is open.
I'm not frightened anymore.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
“When an injured athlete urge a comeback to field for love of game, his vulnerability toward previous muscle wound hinder his mental ability to go on with a full swing. Though, same rule implicate for people who hold bleeding pen to draw alphabetic emotions”
Yesterday I met one of those fragile birds. She carry fractured pen fingers under her beautiful skin, has curious eyes with strange shyness and a touched heart. The pursue of selflove somehow quelled her creative charm. I never expected to encounter someone so likeminded. She put away her pen to avoid emotions, identically similar reason made me quit this so-called ability which once lured bunch of close friends and many others who never knew the face behind these emotionally colored pages...
Wish I could feel her feathers and let her touch my scars, but her shivering Fragile Soul stopped me to become a...
‘Bad Boy She Craves For...’
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
.
*1
Wet welling from earth
Deep valleys, hills, sweating *******
I plunge into her
2
We are lost at sea
In moonless night our soft cries
Curled waves drowning us
3
Above her in bed
Little breaths lifting our bodies
Eyes, fingers, dreaming
4
Her green eyes are set
Jewels from sargasso seas
My ghost ship is wrecked
5
Her long hair tangles
No struggle in rising— then
We are rapt in bed
6
Her eyes blinding me
Milky way of her body
There is a heaven
7
In forest we taste
Each other in evergreens
Hot dews on the moss
8
Blissful time kissing
My bare thighs sink into hers
Running sands so quick
9
As olive or grape
So shed, paired souls are threshed
Out of their bodies
10
Hummingbirds share truths
Nature sounds with all sweetness
Bee in the flower
11
Always in a field
Wild flowers— a bunch to pick
Herself a bouquet
12
In the park we walk
Flocks of white birds taking flight
Two hearts light as air
13
We kissed under moon
Pox of stars grew flowering
Nightshade of her lips
14
She took me to bed
Skinned in bliss— was reborn, lost
In her satin folds*
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
The globalization
Once thought to be an important aspect
To connect the world
To diverse the world
Has been only a part success
And of course, a success to be
In a way people are connected
In the enchanting world of ours
Rising the common world consciousness
Rising and rising and rising
A day by day and day
The knowledge domain, a gigantic trip
Profoundly majestic experience uplifting people
Remarkably
All over the world diminishing the differences
Differences humans suppose to believe
Differences that drew humanity backwards
The differences mostly set by identitities
Identities in terms of nationality
In terms of religion, caste and creed
As we observe, differences softening them boundaries
A good thing as seen
Manifested due to globalization
Only possible due to global reach
Just possible due to connection in large scale
Diminishing are those differences as they don’t fit
Don't fit to the consciousness of the world
To the rising consciousness of the world now
More the fire it sets the plank to burn faster
Happening for good for sure, I believe
On the contrary differences too
In the verse of diminishing the truth
It contradicts the positivity
As see in the world today is extremism
Yes extremism happens to exist
If it exists for a long period
A whole long period of time
In the years to come
Is definately calling for absurdity
Which humans may not want to percieve
The adversities of the impact of globalization
Leading a chance for the high level corporates
To the world to have access to the marketplace
All over the world
Leading to a state of consumerism
To the people
People becoming more and more consumers
They are being brainwashed
For them to buy goods
That global industries produce
People are running after the products
****** consumers
****** sheeps
Those multinationals
And shark headed corporates
Are producing and manufacturing
The high headed corporates
The pigs are manipulating
Are brainwashing people
The sheeps are diverted towards it
The people
The only agenda is to gain more
And more profit only
By making the people slaves of themselves
And slaves of their products
And believe it
Coke and Pepsi may be
Right hand and a left hand
But the Coke and Pepsi both are the same
The very debate which is better is
Helping the corporates to sale
By making their brains washed away
Consumers
Sheeps
Brainwashed
In a sense they are enjoying
The debate they argue upon
And they are unaware
And they are manipulated
Knowingly and unknowingly
More often knowingly
****** sheep slaves
Another adjoining thing
most of the governments in the world
Are being run by the aid
Of the corporates
Only have a selfish agenda
And strategy to sale
Products, thoughts and philosophy
More and more and more
****** pigs
Brainwashing minds of the people
The sheeps
Having a streak of global consumerism
Selfish bunch of pigs
And the brainwashed sheeps
Say hell ya
F***king hell ya
F***k off
Get out'a here
****** freaks
Pigs and Sheeps
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 11:01 AM UTC
Are you a witness of the precise moment
on that very proverbial, unpredictable day
when everyone did mind the gap
but the Ramadan moon took a step?
None could time it at first, as if it got out
from a black hole or an uncharted water well:
down the trail, who can tell?
Now a day or two is gone, has passed by.
The moon is in the fast lane soaring high,
and fills the orb with serene soft light.
Ah, buddies catch up, the suave fireflies.
Tons of these stay awake in the night.
Before they fly away, vanishing afar
into the epic portion of the night.
A confluence down the black moon,
only to catch a glimpse of any pattern:
a morning star or a forming pin bar,
a slice of light on a gingerly lit chart.
Premiering the Eid moon’s first blush.
Yet, if only one can time it, when will it flash?
Deep down a black moon, all eyes black out.
Still, how can one sigh though? Ah,
the unpredictable black moon, should it show
just a peek, showers the earth with Eid’s joy!
Will it show up in no time, far from the sight—
galaxies light up the shady nook of night.
A houri in the Eden rings the alarm.
The veiled bunch of fairies push the sky.
Every star throws its hat, only to tell first
when a crescent moon will crop up
And with the first spill of moonlight,
topflight it goes, pushing the boat out!
A walk down the black moon
without a light or water gone into the blue,
As though walking dead, blindfolded.
No pattern, decimals of Pi undefined by design,
but spot on gets to the apex spike!
There’s still an unmarked blank space
the light on this way doesn’t paint.
And this time, the time won’t tell
is there anyone who can is anyone’s guess.
So should the houri dare to run, then
cherubic she be on her flawless flaw,
rushes to ask the Queen of Heaven!
Oh, good luck to her, a wild one.
Time the black moon, its first glance
precisely when the Eid moon will crop up.
Enlighten us, we are more than curious.
Tell us, too—don’t just tweet it to the stars.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Who
threw the silver dollar up into the tree?
I didn’t said the little
lady who sews and grows every day paler-paler she sits sewing and grow-
ing and that’s the truth,
who threw
the ripe melon into the tree?you
got me said the smoke who
runs the elevator but I bet two bits come seven come eleven mm make
the world safe for democracy it never fails and that’s a fact;
who threw the
bunch of violets
into the tree?I dunno said the silver dog, with ripe
eyes and wagged his tail that’s the god’s own
and the moon kissed the little lady on her paler-paler face and said
never mind,you’ll find
But the moon creeped into the pink hand of the
smoke that shook the ivories
and she said said She Win and you won’t be
sorry And The Moon camelalong-along to the waggy silver dog
and the moon came
and the Moon said into his Ripe Eyes
and the moon
Smiled
,so
19.3k
Cold now.
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.
I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.
Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe
that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.
In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many
crushed red flowers.
17.4k
Confused,
You told me you loved me
You told me you cared
But you're not here
Nobody's there to help my soul
Heal from all the pain that haunts
Me like a ghost,
All I have is a bunch of questions,
questions with no answers...
Or do I ?
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
*what forests are those we pass,
blazing along the railway tracks,
a tree bloom of still cranes,
stream black of ******* bane,
stench of dead city rubble,
factories of rusted cast metal,
distant cotton twilight skies,
sun slide across a bunch of wires,
passing tunnels echo
lonely platforms, frantic gecko,
looming hillside,
crackle dry wood fire,
a god barred in lock&key,
blink glimpse of the sea
one rush of vision,
pebble fling at frisson,
metal-crunch rhythm,
grind music sublime,
spark, grunt, grate,
we arrive, we dissipate...*
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
Teamwork makes the dream work!
Anything is possible when you work together!
You can do much better when you're not alone!
Is what they say
What a bunch of lies
Don't make me laugh
No world exists like that
That world's nothing but a fantasy
In reality
It's every man for themselves
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC
walking down the street
not a care in the world
and that is when it all unfurled
a bunch of gays ran out of nowhere
they beat the **** out of me
and stole my wallet,
not all stereotypes are true
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
depressed in its loneliness as it descends.
It lands and drips down a grassy slope,
alone and forgotten.
A single raindrop falls from the sky.
It falls from dark clouds and gloomy air.
It brings nothing but sadness to the earth below
and desires only to be heard or seen.
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
felt only by a stranger.
It's wiped away, declared a nuisance,
and cast away from existence.
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
mistaken for a tear.
Thought to be from an angel of a lost age.
It merely stirs the dust.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
all lonely but together.
They cause a splash and demand attention.
Still only felt by one.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
unable to quench the earth's thirst.
They disappear, taken by the ground,
embraced for the last time.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky.
Not a head turns to notice them.
They cry out loudly but cannot be heard,
vanishing as they land.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky.
The clouds gather to watch the spectacle.
They grow darker as they bunch together,
warning those below of the coming.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky
and tap people on the shoulder.
"Come watch us," they whisper before leaving.
Few people are left behind.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
looking for an audience.
The people have left and taken their friends
to hide in the buildings they made.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
and joyously, they sing.
They hit the ground, the cars, the roofs,
and make music for those in hiding.
A million raindrops fall from the sky.
They dance and cheer and smile.
The sun decides it wants to watch.
The light dances with raindrops for awhile.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
accompanied by rays of gold.
They bring new color to the city of gray
and rejuvenate all of the old.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and makes art upon the ground.
It quenches the earth's thirst and hums in our ears,
dancing to its own sound.
A gentle rain falls from the sky.
People watch with awe from behind glass.
Ignored by many, precious to captivated few.
They long for it to last.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and gracefully sways in the breeze.
It brings forth calmness and a sense of peace.
It blesses the green fields and trees.
A gentle rain falls from the sky,
watched by a child with wonder.
It sends the breeze to lift the child
and brings them out from under.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and splashes on window panes.
It plays with the child and hums sweet tunes
as it makes puddles in the traffic lanes.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and ripples in the water.
A new world created, impossibly calm.
It makes the child an offer.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and whispers in the child's ear.
"Wait for me. I will return.
I won't leave you alone here."
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and sings goodbye to the child.
The clouds dissipate as the sun takes over.
The departing rain simply smiles.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
murmuring farewells and goodbyes.
Each gives the child a tender hug
as the color returns to the skies.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
then a hundred, then one.
The single raindrop kisses the child
standing alone in the sun.
No longer do raindrops fall from the sky,
but a child waits for them.
To dance and sing and draw and play,
with the gentle rain again.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
Grandma's in the kitchen today
With a bunch of dough and butter.
I see the dough, so there I stay,
Watching her cut the dough with a cutter.
I knew what she was making now,
A batch of cookies, for the house.
I instantly thought about the 'wows'
Which would come from all over the house.
But as I looked at the cookies,
They seemed to be square, and very thick.
"I know!", I thought with a big smile,
"Grandma's making some bar-cookies!"
So with a big grin, I sat down,
And indulged with joy, not a frown.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
I'm having tea with Life,
And his band of Disappointments.
They dine at my expense,
And they're a hungry bunch of guests.
Tea turned into Supper,
Where the Disappointments drank
My finest wine,
And Life wiped his cruel mouth
On my tablecloth.
You can't have supper without dessert,
So they ate up more of my
Food for thought.
And if you stay for dessert,
You may as well spend the night.
So they did
And burgled my pantry of hopes
For a midnight snack.
One night was lovely,
So Life cackled, "Why not stay two?"
And two turned to a week,
And a week turned into
My sickeningly merry guests
Moving into my dreams,
And inviting in Doubt,
To live with them too,
And of course
Pay no rent.
So I watch my chaotic household
Of a skull,
Where Life has made himself at home
And brought all of his friends.
I stare dully at my ruined
Dining room of thought,
Which they have dominated.
And look wearily for a spare idea
In my raided cupboards.
I've never been one
To evict friends,
So I suppose they're here to stay.
But learn a lesson from me,
And don't ever
Have Life over for tea.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
This is for my generation.
A generation full of selfies, in short for selfish.
A generation of women murdering their own unborn babies.
Woman walk around half dressed hoping a man will grant them respect.
As they reclaim their lives, renaming it feminism at it's best.
This is for my generation.
A generation of men that rather play with their hands.
Rather than creating work out of their bare hands.
Lusting for women as if we were created for one night stands.
We are the millennials. We're full of worldly distractions.
Looking for our parents to be the lending tree.
Since we spend most of our money on ***** & ****
This is for my generation.
Can't you see we're slowly dying off? We are becoming too self involved.
While every pleasure keeps causing our own demise.
We're too stubborn to realize our ways are flawed.
We mask it and look for love in other people. Yet, we feel emptier when the love isn't reciprocated. Some call this "unrequited love".
This is for my generation.
I'm here to tell you that, you are loved, you are cherished, and you can be forgiven. You can be saved, not by your works or how much money you make.
If you only believe what He did for you on the cross.
The perfect blood Atonement.
We are the Godless generation. Most would say they believe in evolution, perhaps others would mention God.
This is for my generation.
See, Jesus didn't come for the religious people. In fact, he called them frauds. He's more than just a bunch of rules and laws. In reality, He only came to save the lost. Which lead him to be hated, beaten and killed on a cross. 3 days later, He rose from the dead something Allah never did.
Now that our King is risen, He's offering a free gift of salvation. That's why it's called Grace. Being coming Christian doesn't make you perfect, don't get it twisted. I'm just a forgiven sinner by His definition.
The choice is yours.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
we've been poisoned
with hopes and dreams
of "true love"
its hysterical
how naïve we are
we fell so hard
put ourselves on the line
for a poorly constructed ideology
you idiot
darling i'm such an idiot
to think there was good
in this world
to think there was a chance
that selfless love existed
ah, what a fool
to think marriage
was anything more
than a social norm
a convenience
that relationships
were actually based on anything
more than a false sense of
comfort and security
highschool kids
throwing away their future
bunch of immature children
tricked into thinking
that someone could make them whole
*"let's get married"
"let's run away"
"we're in loooove"*
we've poisoned our youth
love should be the last thing
on their mind
women giving up their dreams
men giving up their lives
for W H A T
the idea that
someone could keep them
from drowning
darling
oh darling
i wish that were true
but
w a k e u p
no one can save you
love is cursed.
we are cursed.
love,
in its own essence
does not exist
and i was such a fool
**such a ****** fool**
to think it lasts
i guess it just made me feel relaxed
to think that there was one part of my life
that could be just for me
i thought love was my escape
i'm holding up the world
i thought it would give me a break
rest my head
HAH
hysterical
i swear to God i'm in fits of laughter
believe in love?
ask the kid of messy divorce
ask the single mom with no idea where her baby daddy went
ask the girl with a broken heart
ask the boy who gives his all, in return for none
love
is
just
another
word
for
loss.
sorry to burst your bubble
but
your idea of "love"
doesn't exist
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
A bunch of roses so she won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
10,000 dollars
9 new airplanes
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of flowers
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
11 new purses
10,000 dollars
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
The last thing I got that truly broke me
12 different houses
11 new purses
10,000 dollars
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
After this she better marry me
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 10:37 AM UTC
out on the road,
driving right along,
comin' to a stop,
at the head of the line,
right at the light.
i look up,
and what do i see,
but a
Big Fat Yellow face
starin' back at me.
taken aback,
reminds me,
you see,
of one
big fat bus
with a big fat yellow bootay,
only just slightly differently.
i start lookin' around
and what do i see
but a whole
bunch
of big fat yellow faces
starin' back at me.
studyin' big fat yellow face
of bus number
eight five nine,
i begin see a difference
or two.
Some big fat yellow faces
are flat,
hardly a nose
on 'em.
Some big fat yellow faces
have quite the
shnoz on 'em,
wouldn't Jimmy Durante
be oh, so, proud.
quite an education
in just the cycle of
only one light.
it turns green,
to left i turn.
one big fat yellow face
one big fat yellow bootay
two big fat yellow faces
two big fat yellow bootays
three big fat yellow faces
three big fat yellow bootays
four big fat yellow faces
four big fat yellow bootays.
racing by so quick,
lickety split.
so how do i know,
know for sure,
that God really exists,
and even more,
that she really loves me?
if there were no God
and if she didn't love me,
i'd be starin' at all these
big fat yellow bootays
through the
front of the windshield,
instead of seeing 'em
flying into the distance
when take i a quick glance
into my REAR view mirror!
i do love the look,
of a,
Big Fat Yellow Bootay
starin' at me
from my rear view mirror,
in the mornin'!
hey, hey, hey,
just another fine day!
whadda say!
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
when a bunch of old Senate men
and some intimidated women
voted to heave
an accused ******
and proven liar with an alcohol problem
given to irascible outbursts, fits of self-pity
and insulting comments on women
into a lifelong seat on the highest court in the nation
against voluminous evidence of his lacking qualifications
the statue of the Goddess of Justice
whom a former attorney general
had all covered up in blue cloth
dropped her sword and scales
tore off her blindfold
and covered her naked ******* in shame
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Wide open are your arms
the sun is a small paintbrush
every daybreak it draws
exposes you as new as ever!
The surges in the billows
blow out swimming clouds
across the globe.
No they don’t splash out to
the starry thrillers on the sky
they all are a dwarf bunch
draws down to you kind Moon:
Down to earth on the ground
spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.
Then you are there too
far afar, where is nothing
but you the lotus in bloom
on uncharted water.
Who can describe it better
everyone is lost for words!
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 10:11 PM UTC
09/17/14 - 1:15 am
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** how about you take shots off my stomach and bite my lip
**** "buying me pizza and touching my butt"drip ***** down my ******* and pull my hair
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** cuddle with me and listen to depeche mode or pink floyd or the smiths
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** let me read books to you as you fall asleep on my lap
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me out to dinner and I don't mean somewhere fancy, hell take me to an old run down diner in the middle of nowhere and then roam the streets with me at an outdoor swap meet
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** bake cupcakes with me on a Saturday evening and watch a bunch our favorite movies
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me on a Ferris wheel my second favorite place in the world and look at the way the moon wakes up with me
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me to a rooftop and tell me your greatest fears. Tell me exactly who you are, if you haven't already.i promise I'll remember. I won't be like your dad and forget your birthday. I won't be like your late sister who forgot to say "I love you" on her way out the door that one evening. I won't be like one of those people who forgot to tell how important you are everyday. But I will be your friend when you need it. You're conscience when your too strung out on all the wrong types of right. You're lover when all you want to do is too spoon so you don't feel lost tonight. You're shoulder to cry on when something goes terribly wrong. All I ask of you is
that you do not, "buy me pizza and touch my ****
v.m
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC