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Bo Burnham Mar 2015
*****! *****! I **** *****!
***** get ****** when I **** *****!
No ifs, ands, and/or buts!
I **** *****! I **** *****!

Nice girls are nice, but no good for nut-*******.
They'll need a serene night to green-light a ****-*******,
but that'll be easy with ****** ol' ****-*******!
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to ****-*******!

I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the ***** I've missed.
I've never ****** or ****** these ***** and thus my nuts are ******* ******.
So when I **** the lucky ****, my nut removes her from the list---
another dumb cumbucket struck from my nut-*******,
"**** it, ****!" ****-******* bucket list.

***** can be white, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with ******* or skinny with small ones.
***** can be perky, preppy, or posh,
with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.

But other ***** are pretty and funny and smart.
They can lift your thoughts from your **** to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or pull you apart.

But don't trust these *****! Don't! Don't you dare!
They'll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
of that hole in your heart that that dumb **** left there.
poem reading here-->
Evelyn Genao Mar 2018
"Please, daddy!"
You were walking so fast.
Too fast for my little feet to keep up.
Was it that easy for you to leave me?

You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped.
You just kept going.
Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me.
I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop.
You didn’t.
You just kept going.
Leaving me behind.
"Please don’t leave me!"

I remember it too well.
The heart throbbing pain.
We watched as you left.
Me and mommy.
My eyes were wet.
Hers were dry, cold.
As if she knew this would happen.

I looked into mommy's eyes.
Her brown eyes tangled with lies.
Lying to me for you.
How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long?
Was it all the stupid crap you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore?

Since you left, I dreamed of your return.
The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear,
"I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again,
my little Cookie Monster
Then I wake up, hoping to see you.
Praying that it wasn’t all a dream.
But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died.

I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face
as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return.
I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life.
You deceived me, you said you would always be there.
You pinky promised.
You broke your promise.
How can I trust you again?

Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or
a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen.

"I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy?
I just need to see your face one last time
Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me?

Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.
I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left.
No, you only thought of yourself like you always do.

You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances,
and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care.
Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was.
I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.  

"Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am.
I don't need you anymore

Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
When I was 6, my dad was deported to the Dominican Republic. I remember visiting him in prison before he was booted out of the country. I was only a child then and I don't remember much but the pain is still there. I didn't ever write down my feelings until my English teacher assigned the class a project where we had to write a poem about a struggle that impacted our lives. It was not the best and as the years went by I would add more to it, pouring my heart and soul into it. I think the day presented my poem to the class was the day that I wanted to become a writer. I hope you love this and be sure to comment your thoughts on it. Also, check out my other poems!!
ShaeZen Jan 2014
I love you.
Theres nothing more to say
To add anything
would be like
cutting an arm away.

I love you
No buts
Thats all i can say.

Life works in mysterious ways
One moment it gives you everything you want
and just as quickly takes it away.

Life choices
mistakes are made
we all have to own up to it at the end of the day

I love you
I love you
Day after Day
I trust in my path
and pray
that one day
may our lifes smile upon us
and bring us back together
one day
Robin Carretti May 2018
U-R Loved
2-B my man

Army or Navy
Amy is my baby
Bermuda shorts

The sign (All sporty)
Love certain

the 3
So clever



Front page
Eyes engaged
Never again

Villa number 4-Me
Quite the target
5 people-C
Death wishes

D- Deceased
dazzle me

But all buts.  .  .
The tantalizing
temple People
  Big Dimple

It never
Sips money
50 shades
The ending
*   *   *   *   *
Squared Inn
Never stones
Summoned on
Scarlet fever
Not giving a ****

Lady stays
up (Yes Nam)
Higher cheekbones
But all these buts
in between remarks
goes down

Going up >  >  >
Biblical Ancient
Bermuda town
kiss rarity

((Flattercalls)) Tipping over
her hand
((Waterfall-Gals)) laying over
Hearing her
moans of

I but... I need it
Let's mingle
we are
all talking
the same

Cafe...steams me
The hub or hubby
It rings *
But always a but

I never
to see
you  butwith her
Drinks Bondmen
Showcase stirs

No buts
Oh! Sir
Or quite the Mr.
Burr Bermuda
Red tape

Never to
mingle with
ladies wanted
Goodbye waves
Never curves single

(Millionaires Harmony)

Suntan Bermuda bikini's
and buts
Here it is
the buts.   .  .
But did
you see
How I need that
My Alladin man

He gave me
The time

(Debutante all Detailed)
To be wed
The Peacock

Traveling to never- landing

Applique Peachy tree's
Dressed 777
the millions
Terrible two trillion
Her Bermuda
vacation so jaded
Check to check
Foreign kissing
69 lips sipping
Ending up
with Skittles

The rainbow food
Hill of the Monk
Seven Fishes
of wonder
Sea Bass
Her summery
Bermuda shebang
* Icely but pricey
chilled bur $-$-$
Comedy of a vacation in Bermuda in a well known Hacienda. How many women go to the bar to mingle married or single. Just party eat well and hearty
Ember Evanescent Nov 2014
Don't waste my time
I have so little of it
If you're going to waste my time
Make it worth the pain
Make it a wildride
Don't tell me lies
I don't have room in my head for those
If you're going to tell me lies
Make it worth the betrayal
Make it a pretty lie
Don't talk **** about me
I've taken enough of that in my life
If you're going to talk **** about me
Make it worth the exasperation
Make it creative
DON'T waste my love though.
No buts or ifs
I only have so much of it left...
Kinda sad right now :/ I don't know just reflecting on how much **** I've dealt with, been through and caused. Also how much love I have wasted. So so much love and time I can't get back.
Obadiah Grey Jul 2013
Lumbago ought be a flower,
but it ain't.
Goldfish could have shoulders,
but they don't.
Death should have meaning
and my windows need cleaning
by the missus - but I know-
she just -- won't.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Say I know, no question, what the Good News was,
the Jesus good news, but

nobody believes that. And its free good news. Who pays me?

Think Gaiman's American Gods,
true believers everywhere, no truth, no free ificity,

sufficient, suffice, artifice, artificial freedom, if

you can't imagine artificial freedom, how do u test AI?

we can imagine all sorts of hells, and miserable lost evers

all phantoms from the stories you've believed
believed by the tellers
who told you
you were naked.

Is this a theme?
Are we manufacturing sensible un-believable
idle word redemption tools.
DIY? No App?
Empowering the believers to unbelieve, at will, with effort?
Very little effort, but yes,
My calling, yes, previous to full-time Peacemaker.

I e-merge several streams of thought, gentle, --- un belief is,
it hurts like you imagined hell, almost exactly.

Monetize your lies,  who said do that?
you don't believe them do you?
The ones you tell
Where you know prayers are answered

know sorta. Knowing a thing is so,
you know, defining.
Be and lieve together they make a meaningful
you know

Re-ifing and de-ifing,
being a believer in whom is no guile,
is that
Could a thespian make us believe he believes what I believe if he were me?

Is that in the bible,
that walk a mile as me proverb?
It's true, if you do it, in your head or mind,
if you think mind ain't matter

or doesn't matter, okeh.

I don't.
D'I ever tell you about the time I realized I was safe,
lazy days o' summer,
way back when was no TV, no video nuthin, then

when I woke, I was here as sure as I am,
that I know next

to nothin for sure,
and for a blameless,
shameless old man, who catches Jesus winkin'
in his thinkin' ever day,

' cain't say damday and asaid it anyway.

It's about time I tell my story, if that is my job.
My story means the story I tell,
the one I think I believe I know and enjoy.

Tellin' it, I en joy en trance, never thrall.

Life is predominantly fun.
Empiric evidence. Take it, by faith,
we all know how,
we laugh and say we don't, but we are lost with out it,

no hope.
Oh, my God, desperate for you.
They sing that, they call such singing praise.

Somehow they have come to believe
Christ has left them desperate for any good things,
forsaken them after promising
other wise

Who would teach a chile such a song in Jesus's
whole body, I swaneee

Hopeless, t's what desperate means,
desperados are not disciples
of the tendency to a bias toward good, by grace.
Can I speak living words,
is that living water flowing from me,
if I agree with the story I am telling,

Yes, all the promises of God.
Come let us reason,
we are past the scarlet sin.
Sin means disconnect in today's terms,
missed aimed-at-thing's the original Greek expression that
made it to the Bible.

And a blog is as good as a book, some say,
as far as words are concerned, meaning-wise

but spoken words go farther, these days.

Rhetoric is returning to try men's souls,
and the peasants have Google and IDW
(Intellectual Dark Web wuwu)

and the real Bible Daniel and Ezra 'n'em put together from all the sources they could muster under the banner of
Lest we forget.

Was that the banner spoken of
by the prophet so and so?

Could be.
Runner-up th'pole 'n'see who kneels.

Emoji winks are too cheezy for real poetry,
you never see 'em in songs.

Jesus winks but not at
your-my disconnection from re-ality.

We can't be **** Sapience Sapience
if we don't think about thinking.

The unexamined life's not worth living,
old Greek guy saying.

Jesus saying, as a man thinks, so is he.

And I think he was talking about good and evil.
A man can think good and evil, but

(and this is one of those forever buts I mentioned last time I was thinking on this thread),
evil can't swallow good. No matter how long it chews.

Funny, really, how stuff works.
We all live until,
as far as we do know now,
for conscious mortal me,
of us in this we, me

recall the way it feels to lay your armor down
and know,

I ain'tagonnastudy war no more.

But, we are called,
chosen to fight the good fight of faith, Amen.

Ah, men,
we ain't got enemies.
We fought.
You believe you believe or you don't.

Have fun and don't make anybody miserable
and stand up straight,
with your shoulders back, good advice.

Next. There is a reason to go farther,

I think, but don't know right now, what that reason is.

Praying being asking for assistance in persistence,
I am praying this is plain, past simple, plumb to sublime.
The hope for a larger crop, for some reason I ain't found, more sowin', means more reapin' and reapin' for them has done it, them who've reaped,  know that's the hard part.
I met you for the first time when I was really young. You were small and cute and kind
I didn't notice then. I only realized this just a little while ago.

We grew up beside each other, always close but never really.
I thought you considered me a friend
I was one of many. I didn't stick out among the rest.

Though your age and all the other things that separated us, I loved for the things that didn't. I tried to keep it to myself
I couldn't. Not for one more second.

I told you how I felt. I'd never taken a leap from that high up. You could have caught me
"Let's be friends."

I didn't have the guts to tell you that we never really had been.

I moved on. I did. You weren't around for awhile and I forgot the way your face looked when you teased me. I forgot your thoughtful expression when you concentrated on your music. I almost forgot about you
but I didn't.
but I won't.
but I can't.

I love you
I hate you

And there's no buts about it.
I write poetry about you, ******.
adele horn Jun 2010
Thank you
For thinking i’m funny
thank you
For catering to my whims
Thank you
For being undemanding
Thank you
For being a gentleman
Thank you for caring
Thank you
For sharing
Thank you
For being honest
Thank you
For letting me swear
Thank you
For letting me be faithless
Thank you
For bringing me calm
Thank you
for letting me love you

I just wish I could be her
If tomorrow was that yesterday,
or that morning
came tonight
if for a moment you could have listened
if you didn't always have to be right

if she realized the words  
Get out
really meant
You’d love her help
if you swallowed more than pills
or thought about
more than just yourself

but yesterday left in a sunset
by a cloud of pride
and for tomorrow
it’s still not too late
but you're running out of time
The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
        The lawyers know
        a dead man's thought too well.

In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.

When the lawyers are through
What is there left, Bob?
Can a mouse nibble at it
And find enough to fasten a tooth in?

Why is there always a secret singing
When a lawyer cashes in?
Why does a hearse horse snicker
Hauling a lawyer away?

The work of a bricklayer goes to the blue.
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon.
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together.
The land of a farmer wishes him back again.
         Singers of songs and dreamers of plays
         Build a house no wind blows over.
The lawyers--tell me why a hearse horse snickers
         hauling a lawyer's bones.
Amina Yakubu Jan 2013
Be justice to your buttocks
Why do you clean your buts after defecating
and urinating ...
but dont clean your buts after fueeeeeeeeing
you know the thing right?
Hey!!!!!!!!!!!! my friend next time be justice to
your buts.
Mike Hauser Dec 2017
no if, ands, or buts
when it comes to love
always room for more
with never enough

fill the cracks in-between
a job that's never done
from the out to the inseam
cemented in love

cause when it comes to love
feel free to look it up
there's never enough
no if, ands, or buts
Ruth Forberg Oct 2011
feasting is beastly
devouring the measly
souls of the weaklings
how mild and meekly
cowering, quivering
stock-still, but shivering
delivering evil at doorsteps
grabbing the forceps
take a few more steps
I'll cut you and your kids
and your wife with her fits
are you aware of
the pits of despair?
****, now you're scared
**** all your cares
'cause you're going nowhere
except back to that place
drool drips down your face
crusty blood-caked lips
you faked your trips
seen what I've seen?
please, your nightmare's my dream
nothing as it seems
sewn up the seams
blown up the reams
of **** that you wrote
and with a knife at my throat
I'll dare you one dare
just one
sit there and stare
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
Hambone, slam bone
Kick them in the nuts.
Smack them, sack them
No ifs ands or buts.
Tap them, zap them
Punch them in the snouts
Jounce them, bounce them
Throw the ******* out.

Some of what we’re suffering
Has gone on for a century.
Some of it is politics
Most of it’s chicanery.
Some of it is current stuff
Aided by the internet
And some of it is old news
We just haven’t heard it yet.

Hambone, slam bone
Kick them in the nuts.
Smack them, sack them
No ifs ands or buts.
Sic them, nick them
Stick them with the bill.
Beat them, cheat them
Set up for the ****.

It’s a game of who screws who
And who does not get caught.
It has to do with bribery
And which guy can be bought.
They set it up so no one wins
Unless they play the game
And when the public catches wise
They change some of the names.

Tap them, zap them
Punch them in the snouts
Jounce them, bounce them
Throw the ******* out.
Snip them, whip them
Treat them all like dogs.
Crunch them, punch them
Throw them to the hogs.

They depend on all of us
To be lazy to the bone
And when it comes to statesmanship
To leave them all alone
And not make them live up to
What they were elected for.
The blame is on our backs again
If we choose to ignore.

Hambone, slam bone
Kick them in the nuts.
Smack them, sack them
No ifs ands or buts.
Tap them, zap them
Punch them in the snouts
Jounce them, bounce them
Throw the ******* out.
Smiles Apr 2014
Pills, pills for the mentally ill
The more you take, the worse you'll feel
So down the hatch
Yep down your throat
Very soon you'll be wearing this coat
A hug me jacket tarnished in white
With buckles and straps wound so tight
But for now some side effects I wrote
Down here on this pretty little note
Increased thoughts of suicide
And harsh voices to which you can't hide
Nausea, drooling, and anxiety too
And whoever seems to be "after you"
We'll put you to sleep
You won't make another peep
Strap you to a cozy bed where you'll slumber
Pump you till you're as cool as a cucumber
To which we'll add you to our lovely garden
No ifs, buts, or beg your pardons
What's the matter?
You seem unwell
You're as mad as a hatter
This I can tell
So don't start a spell
Don't start a clatter
We'll pick up those pieces to which your mind has shattered
Just take this pill
In fact why not stay
You're better off here anyway!
Haha gotta love em!
Arshia Qasim Nov 2017
There is a certain romance of incomplete stories
and unrequited passion....
A certain heroism , in unfulfilled ambitions and sacrificed wants ...
(There is also
Selfishness in altruism,
Mockery in humility...
Fragility of pretenses,
Deception of senses,
Armors of sensitivities...
all those nitty gritties,
paradoxes that haunt
etc, but then...)

Sometimes this happens,
love stays and we go.

Sometimes this happens,
there is no beginning, nor end:
through “ifs” and “buts”
priorities distend
the space between, what is seen and what has been.

I picked your hopes with my eyelashes
and thatched together a shade for us
You caught my fall in the web of your thoughts,
softening for me, the landing, and thus,
we built a dream.  

Sometimes this happens
the stars are buried in the desert sands
the lines dissect though you’re holding hands
but for the heart that understands....

it’s all divine. Not yours nor mine.

Sometimes this happens
one understands, but it’s not enough
one knows, but accepting is still pretty rough

You may have all ingredients
but you still need a “here” and a “now”
no question of why? or what? or how...

Sometimes this happens
the wait becomes unbearable
so remember that you know....
time is deceptive
and it’s already tomorrow in Tokyo

Nov 26/27, 2017
Cjf Jul 2018
Depression isn't always hidden cuts underneath sweaters. It's not always sad music & rainy days. It's sometimes the girl who's always smiling with the sad eyes. It's your friend who always has a joke for you. It's the thin line between insanity and being too sane. The ***** of your mouth that doesn't curve all the way into a smile when your thoughts become to heavy for even the hundred of muscles in your mouth to upturn. It's driving a car at 130 miles per hour and wondering how it felt to hug a tree, a numb pain that you can't feel, buts it's everything you feel. It's alcohol going down, down, down until your feelings are higher. It's medication, it comes and goes, always lingering like your allergies on the first day of spring
It's dedicated to you, seeping into your bones like the poison you take up your nose to drown out the inner demons
It's toxins slowly spreading and dissolving your strength and making you wish you weren't you
Depression isn't always black and white.
It's the brightest of teeth that flash the friendliest smiles; sunshine and birds. Because depression doesn't discriminate appearances, she doesn't care who she overcomes and overthrows. Her victims are her best friends and she's patient and she'll wait until your very worst day to come throw her arm over your shoulders and pretend she's there for you, feeding herself with the way your feeding into her shadows.
Depression is everywhere
Damian Murphy Aug 2018
Even the best laid plans go wrong,
The unexpected comes along.
Before you know it, suddenly,
You are in new territory.

When that happens what do you do?
Do you give up or see it through?
'Tis a decision you must make...
To give up or a risk to take.

You may decide to take a chance,
To fly by the seat of your pants,
You might stick with it, come what may,
Just let the chips fall where they may.

Or choose to play it safe you may,
Retreat to fight another day,
Decide the risk is just too great
With too much left to chance, to fate.

Perhaps it is a hunch, your gut,
The weighing up of ifs and buts
That helps you reach a decision
That which for you is the right one.

You and you alone have to choose
And whether you win or you lose,
Your reasoning to you is known,
The decision but yours to own.
Cat Dec 2015
Inside the Masonite
The contour lines aren't dark enough
Left behind a stark remark
Start as a lark in the dark
And you're smart for standing there
Behind the mines
But on top of boxes
And piles of boxes
Cigarette buts on the curb, left behind from following the curb line
Down the road
Around the mounds and above the dips
Follow the curb line up
Don't fall into a drain
Because the drains will always lead you somewhere
But they always end
And they're never clean
Doesn't make sense to anyone aside from me really
Robb Aug 2013
See the sadness in my eye, if you took the time to look
But most people believe the lie, sinker line and hook
Embarresed to talk bout the feelings in my mind
So I internalize it all, get used to it in time
But the darkness never fades, it is always on the edge
Looking at these lines, that are dropping A from read
The scars will never disappear, remind me of my past
Even though I have moved on from that, fear that they aren't last
Still plague me in my dreams, wether waking or asleep
So I try to ignore the demons creeping out of me
They escape in time alone, but surrounded I'm no better
Short sleeves it's apparent, kinda like my scarlet letter
D for depression or M misunderstood
People say they're here to help, but tell me how you could
Do you get the pain I live with? Is it something you understand?
Do you lay awake at night, with a razor grasped in hand?
Does your arm run red, when the worlds too much to bear?
Or do you have another means to get you out your head?

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression

It's sad how no one gets it, get judges it's so offensive
Like an expletive instead of answering a question
It's me, my scars my life
Not you, your kid your wife
Your ******* a bit too tight
Try to loosen up inside
Cause it's not your life that's ******
Not your problem you're in luck
Never wish this **** on anybody, no ifs ands or buts
Tormented by day, live with terror in the night
Cause the shade envelopes me no matter how I fight
Just gave up, my wall collapsed
Defenses didn't last
So I caved in let the darkness have a blast
Say it's just phase, **** I wish that **** were true
But it disappears then returners stronger in a day or two
The numbness creeps up higher, reaching for my brain
Then finally it's became part of every nerve and vein
Encompasses my body and it takes over control
Until the days fade together, looking like a blur
This is not a joke, you just probably don't know
Ive been dealin with this it's begun to take a toll

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression

I get so **** frustrated when I hear these people hate
About how weird those scars look, they don't take a second or wait
Try to figure out the meaning, or the reasoning behind
All the anger or the sadness that could cause the kind of drive
That would force the decision to drag across your skin
A razor or a knife or a lit cigarette end
But to me that **** means something that to you it never could
Because livin it myself has brought me closer to
The truth that lies beyond what these people have forgot
It's not your place to judge anyone who's cut
Cause chances are your wrong, and you probably make worse
Cause from experience that won't make them think first
It's just another reason to be done with your surroundings
To disappear inside and become hard as granite
To live to die to choose
Some alleviate with *****
While others turn to pills or *** to get them out the mood

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression
Song lyrics
L Seagull May 2017
It is
And it's changing
The wind into summer shower
Into mushrooms and birds mouth
From river to the sewer
It is and it's changing
From dark to light to dim with
Speckles of sun born by the
Mirror in you childlike hand
You are catching dust bunnies
Sneezing and laughing
And the dirt could be followed by magic
And the kiss isn't greased by the notion
Of sin and the sin is only a word from the book
Death and insanity
Are frightening and profound
Your world is built from
No buts but ands
And they flow into peace
Just as well as the film of oil
On the ***** puddle
Astonishes you with
An iridescent rainbow
Duality is born by fear
You split and separate so
Caught up in the survival game
To keep that face and partake
Of wealth and fame
Empty is locked in the dungeon
And the words interlock
In plain patterns
Yet alive as they produce sounds
And the smell of tangerines
On a tree by the coast of Sicily
Reminds you of the day
When you could still enjoy
The warmth of sun
It absorbed into its juicy flesh
And there's no need to run
No need to stay
No need to cut off the ties
When life offers you more
And the heat and cold are feelings
That gets names as they replace each other
As they flow unstoppable
Dripping reactions
Burning like acid and smooth like milk
All in one glass
And when you have no thoughts
Ask questions
And when you feel the pain
Stay present and consider humanity
Mohammad Skati May 2015
I want to be , but ...                                                                                                  I can do a lot of things , but ...                                                                                 I would like to go forward , but ...                                                                           I am sure , but ...                                                                                                       I have a lot of buts , so                                                                                             That's the way with me ...                                                                                        They are my buts and                                                                                             Not me ...                                                                                                                  I am so sorry for all those buts                                                                               Simply because I can not get ride of them ...
Maria Hale Mar 2012
A **** in my brow from side to side,
You split my skin nine stitches wide.
I don’t even have the cogency to cry.

Another ER trip, I swear I’m out.
No matter the showers of love that you spout.
I can’t put up with another shout.
I know one day I can live without…

But I’m clumsy, I’ll tell them I fell.
Even though all of my fallacies smell.
They won’t believe the volume of my yell.
But with gentle arms you re-create my cell.
I’ve been here before, I know this death knell.

I wish I could tell you no.
You know this won’t be the time I go.

Today is just not my day.
mvvenkataraman Mar 2010
Being lazy digs a huge grave
For our peace and won't save
A lazy fellow is never brave
He is to fate a submissive slave

Taking action he will shun
Success shows him no affection
God gives him no protection
He belongs to the losing section

A lazy man gets no sweats
Tears become his constant assets
He uses buts and loses guts
He is depressed for lack of outlets
He lies lethargically in his bed
To be passive, thinks his head
Mentally he is almost dead
His is a very negative blood

Great chances he regularly misses
He is deprived of victory's kisses
A working mind, he does not possess
He never gets success as a bonus

His brain is so lazy *** idle
Everything is to him a riddle
He is afraid of every hurdle
His life, fate will finely meddle

Work makes him fear and faint
Gloom only his thoughts paint
Against him accumulates complaint
His mind, laziness will strongly taint

Progress tells him good-bye
He is an unattractive guy
His life-river is ever dry
Only laziness, he can supply

Idleness may be initially jolly
But it is not at all holy
Angels like it not wholly
Unless he starts a venture newly

If laziness is away kicked
Losses can be wisely licked
If laziness is wrongly picked
By fate, lazy man is tricked.

ERHD Rowes Dec 2010
Corks of bottled pasts are popping,
Fury trains are slowing...
Recognise the ifs, the buts,
The wings, the ruts,
The shadows hopping.

Corks of bottled pasts are popping,
I'm a fury train and I need stopping.
Tinted blood,
Liver sopping,
Fetch a bucket,
It needs mopping.

Steam-rage bursts from veins and ears,
Peace erupts and all he hears?
"You've ****** me up for years and years,"
"For years and years and years and years!"

[Where is home?]
[Where is home?]
[Where is home?]
[Where is home?]
Not here,
So I'll destroy everything that you own.

"Restrain her!"
"Restrain her!"

Corks of bottled pasts are popping,
Fury trains are slowing...
Recognise the ifs, the buts,
The wings, the ruts,
The shadows hopping.
Boiling rows,
And dripping mouths,
And pools of vows
That now need mopping.
I wonder if my late night plays
Will ever be relayed
To a generation that is slayed
In my play every black home
Has two stories, a fence
and a dad that won’t roam
Their cars ain’t all chrome
No bars on the windows
No grandmas saying lord knows
When cops shows
There are more colors than grey
No dope boys on the corner cliche
Or dogs on chains barking to get away
The colors blue and red stand for a flag
The black youth aren’t in a body bag
And pants never sag
Black men aren’t scary and mean
The system isn’t their adversary or
The silver screen
They don’t fill cemeteries nor chase
The color green
Black women have a name
Not ***** or **** used as shame
No fakes buts for their fame
The son has more hope
Then shooting a ball and ****** bout dope
He aspires to use a stethoscope
The daughter is strong and free
She can either write a song or get a PhD
Her future is whatever she wants it to be
Their ain’t thugs on tv our color
Not every sitcom has one strong black single mother
Or get drunk and fight one another
Gun violence is a joke
the police don’t chock our folk
Our music don’t promote drug use
And Gucci don’t ******
Drivebys are now hi’s
Every family is woke and wise
It’s sad to know
That this world won’t ever exist
Because the world outside
Is to nightmarish
Love-evans Apr 2015
Forming words to say what no one ever thought you would.
Spoken word gives people a chance to ride the waves of the syllables that roll off your tongue, to be engulfed into an ocean of self expression.
Spoken word is a story. A story that no one would have even believed if it was never conveyed in such a way the evoked so much emotion.
Spoken word is the ability to reach out to people on a different parallel.
when you open up its spread light, it allows people see an entire world that they never knew existed.
When you become transparent and turn all of your if’s, and's, and buts into something great you show people what they need to see, not what you want them to see.
And the words that so gracefully roll of your tongue become all of the things that they have never wanted to admit, Being vague has never allowed so much emotion and desire to aroused all at once.
Spoken word is an art that is within everyone's grasp, but only few have ever taken the advantage to capture it.
you can’t exactly see what is but when
you stretch your hands to reach for the creativity that wants to swallow you, The world that you once knew changes.
All of your thoughts become poetic, and there becomes a consistent need to tell people what's going on and it feels so amazing.
Spoken word is an expression
abling people that would have never thought they would have the power to say things about their lives unleashes a magnificent world that we would have never been able to see.
Spoken word is an art the doesn't just open eyes but shocks all of our senses. The ability to take someone on a journey without even having to leave the room, Making them experience your story in a way that you never thought you could.
Spoken word is not just poetry,
Spoken word describes all that I am,
All that I can, and will be,
All that I was,
All that is me.
AJ Nov 2013
well i'm not good at math, so i guess i'm not smart
and i don't care about you, so i don't have a heart
your perception is off, but what else would you expect
from a person who tries to simplify all that is complex
like race and gender, it's not like you think, it's not set in stone
and the stereotypes that you speak chill me to the bone
"not be racist but" is not a way to start a sentence
there's no "buts" in racism, could you show some repentance?
well, not to be racist, but white people are *****
and not to be sexist, but all men are ******
and i'm getting tired of all of your ignorance
how does it feel to be full of intolerance?
you see the world through one narrow view
has anyone told you that you haven't got a clue?
you can't put people in boxes, we are so much more
we're filled with infinities that simply won't fit in a drawer
each mind is a galaxy, well, i guess maybe not yours
and you're so afraid of what you don't know
so get out of this world, i think it's time you go
because no one likes racists, *******, or jerks
being a ******* won't get you any perks
it's about the heart, not about the face
we're all a part of one single human race.
Dhaye Margaux Feb 2017
She got much gifts from open hands
Those golden hearts from foreign land
But though they came from farther place
Their hearts are closer, oh such a grace
Somehow it's good to take and keep
Yet there are hands that do not sleep
They are not tired of sharing gifts
Helping others with no buts and ifs
She loves to see herself like them
Sharing her gifts, her precious gems
Even the gifts she has today
Her skills and talents, that's her bouquet
And now she finds another dream
Like mending rips from hem to hem
She wants to share her open hands, too
With songs of hope for me and you
For those who came as blessings to others...
You are a victim of your own appearance
Don't let yourself be judged, I know you don't
The way you see yourself means everything
Buts thats not right, don't go far enough to be someone your not
Don't turn sides, wether you're confused or not
If you do you'll be consumed by your own self admiration
That you will no longer be on the bright side
You want to be appreciated then stop hiding and come out of the dark side
Maxine Schmidt Oct 2012
I can’t, I sigh.
But you have to, you assert.
There isn’t the time, I claim.
But I want it, you argue.
I want to give it, but not right now or today, I rationalize.
What if I needed it, you probe.
There are things I need too, but my plate is full, I exclaim.
Then I must find it somewhere else, you profess.
I can do it, I will give it to you, I assure.
When will that be and how long will it take, you inquire.
When I am done, I blubber.
Well, I am done, you declare.
Please, I beg
When will you be done, you retry.
Never, I murmur.
Never is too long, you calculate.
But-* I begin.  
No buts, what are you so busy with, you demand.
Loving you, I whisper.
Reassurance, it can be both positive and negative. With past experiences though, I know how negative it can be when demanded. Its hard enough to give to someone when you're already giving them your whole heart, and yet they still desire it. What is with this obsessive need for desire when you already have me, all of me?
Sunrise in the night, pony with a poem.
Heaven in Hades, angels are high, stones are ******.
A shoe with a pet, a bed with a curse and a spoon with a hat.
Flowers for the crab, a song for the cat and a pool for a rat.
Rain on Sahara, drought on Niagara.
How's my house in Libya?
A bride in the gun, a heart on the sand and a son of a sun.
**** for buts, a penny for a *****.
All for a naughty nut.
Sanity of a fool, a sighing dead .
It doesn't rhyme nor it make any sense.
Annaleisa Feb 2012
Somedays, I hope my words mean nothing.
They are little glass figures of bunnies sniffing, and china plates my mother puts out when the better people come.
I hope me saying,
“I don’t want to get attached”
does not run about as an “I love you”,
let it be the napkin I spill my nausea into.
Don’t let it be my grandpa’s handkerchief.
These “I love you”’s are building up in my head, glasses, china plates, handkerchiefs.
These antique, vintage pieces keep stacking themselves up in my swollen breaths.
“I do not love you” runs around like the rainbows I see on acid. What a joke.
These “ifs” and “whys” and “buts” are hopping around like my glass bunny.
Poor words.

— The End —