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Dev A Apr 2013
I finally said good-bye
I told him last night
And i know that he was upset.
I told him to call me sometime,
But somehow I know he won't;
It’s just the way he is.

This morning I told my friend,
She said she was proud!
How could she be so happy?
That I said good-bye to him,
When I feel like dying on the inside?

I almost gave up last night
As I explained what was wrong
I almost gave in to his begging and pleading
But I just can't do it anymore
I had to say good-bye.

She asked if I was okay.
How can I be okay if I told him good-bye?
How can I be okay if I gave him an ultimatum that I knew he wouldn’t stick to?
I’m not okay
But I have to pretend that I am
Just to get by these last few weeks in this country.

2 days of school,
2 weeks of exams,
3 weeks before leaving this country forever
Not to come back
Leaving him forever unsure when I’ll see him again.
Why am I losing these last few weeks with him?
Why did I say good-bye now?

I didn't truly want to say farewell
But she made me.
She hates him
Even though she's never met him.

I finally said good-bye to him
And said she was proud of me
And asked if I was okay.
But how can she be proud?
How can I be okay?
When he's still on my mind?!?
Tam Ly Jun 2011
It’s the best when it burns brightly

like an arsonist of wooden bridges

It’s the murdering of moments nightly

as a moth to a flame inherits its own blame

because a cord cutter cuts

and a pain monger guts

a life just to feel

the good bye high

the good bye high

so lo and behold

a rainbow bridge and rumors I am told

of a brilliant pleasure

from an empty *** of gold

like a glorious treasure

of words that I am sold

but, nothing takes my heart like hurt

when we beat a rainbow into black and white

when we see that pain shows wrong is right

so I’m looking for hello in

the good bye high

I’m going to say hello to

the good bye high

the good bye bye
Titanic-Lover Aug 2013
"Olympic,what was my sister like?
Did the people make her grand?"
"Yes,my darling,she was fine,
The finest in the land.
No one else was like her,
No one had her creed,
I knew within my very heart
The life that she could lead!
I sent my best of wishes to her
On a tenth of April day
She sailed away into the sun,
Nothing stood in her way.
Oh,Brittanic,my darling,
I wish that you did know
The spark of pride she sent in the air
Where'er she did go.
The air around her seemed electrically charged
With her undeniable glory
I watched from afar,
Knowing she'd make a front page story!
I felt pride within my soul
When people would stop to gaze
My sister was so beautiful and bound for happy days!"
"Olympic,why did my sister die?
Why couldn't I see her face?
We wait among happy people,
She's in a somber place."
"Brittanic,my dearest baby,
I cannot tell a lie
You must put up with this old girl,
And know that I shall cry.
I cannot think of my sister
Without my vision clouding with tears
I have been without her for so very long,
So many pain-filled years.
The day I heard that horrible truth
Will be etched forever in my heart.
The day I lost my beloved sister
With which I never wished to part.
When I received news of her sinking
I raced across the waves
Hoping I'd be able to say 'good-bye'
On her very last of days.
Oh,but I didn't get there quick enough!
I didn't have enough speed!
The Captain ordered me to give up hope,
An order I didn't want to heed!
I had raced across the blackened surf
Pressing to see how fast I could go,
Now the Captain ordered me to stop,
I hope you'll know the love I did know.
I wanted to go to that very spot
Where my sister's life did end,
A glorious lady with a glorious heart,
All ended by a word called 'sin'.
He hurt me with his ruthless order
Ceasing my propellers purpose-driven churn
My anger at him burned in my soul
I didn't want to obey a command
He was forcing me to learn!!
But,he forced me to learn
Forced me to turn away
Forced me to live without saying
"Farewell"
Forced me to return to work that day.

"Olympic,are you mad at yourself?
Upset you never could say goodbye?
Upset you left her all alone?
All alone to die?"

"Oh,Brittanic,why must you ask such things?!
Such things that tear my heart in two!
But,answer you,I will,my darling,
Answer you,I shall do.
I have tried so vainly to forgive myself,
Yet,half my heart is plunged in grief,
It wraps around my very core
Like a strangling ivy wreath.
No one gave me a kindly look,
A sympathetic word they did not say,
Such as "Fair Olympic,you did all you could
To save your dear sister that day."
But I tried! Don't they know?
I tried to save her as across that ocean I ran!
I would of said good-bye
If not halted by a foolish man!
Yet,I never got to say 'good-bye'
Never let her know,
Titanic! My treasured sister!
How I love you so!!"

"Olympic,I hope you know I love you,
E'en though your heart is sad,
Forgive yourself,my dear mother,
You did not commit any bad.
Titanic knows you love her,
She knows you tried with all of your might
When love drove you across dangerous waves
On that perilous night.
You mustn't keep hurting a heart
That has dealt with so much bad,
Forgive yourself,Olympic,
And then you may not feel so sad.
I'm sure she is not mad
At the efforts you did make
You avoided danger the best you could,
Though your life was still at stake.
You acted with such bravery
On a night devoid of moon
You did all you could in hopes
To get to her so soon.
I love you,old Olympic,
I'm not angered at your ways
Concern for one you did love
Has lasted for years and days.
I'm sure you were the perfect sister
As you are the wonderful mother to me
I feel so proud when I see you come in
From a long,weary week at sea.
When I am old and wizened  like you,
I'll remember the pleasures I have known
From a grand lady named Olympic
Who hid a heart so alone.
I love you,my beautiful friend
And I'll recall a story behind the tears
Of perservering adoration for one
That you won't see for the rest of your years.
And,I'm sure,Fair Olympic,
When it comes time you too shall die,
You will be reunited with your sister,
For your kindness never did falter,nor lie."

"Brittanic,my dearest one,
It is a reassuring thought,
I will be so glad to see her,
For love will perish not.
But,for now,I am nothing more than
For men to hurt and command
But I shall dream now
Of a far-off and distant land.
A land where my sister resides
Where she,perhaps,waits for me
On a big eternal expanse,
A grand,forever sea.
I am sure my time is coming up,
I am over 20 years old!
The humans will not want me much longer,
I am no longer eye-catching and bold.
Twenty years old and over is not a lot,
For me,my life did really now just begin
But the humans will not want me much longer
They will make my life end.
I am no longer the fashionable steamer
That people clamor to take
I am 50,000 tons of steel
One day that the ship-yard shall break.
That is our future,my darling,
No matter the life we had,
It has happened to a good many ship,
It is so brutal and bad.
Do not think false wishes
That I shall escape this fate.
No,my baby,I shan't,
It will be either early or late."

"Oh,Olympic! They cannot **** you!
You have such a life ahead!
How could they be so cruel
And with their blows,make you dead?"

"Brittanic,my darling daughter,
To them,we are naught more than machines
We have no life,no hopes,
They don't even think we have dreams.
I could tell you so much more,dearest,
There is so much more I can say,
But the humans want me to go somewhere,
So,I shall come back one day.
Be true,my darling,while I'm gone,
Make me proud of your ways
Strike out over life,
Rejoice in the sun's rays
I shall come back again,
Don't you doubt that twice,
I have much more to tell you
And your company is so nice!"

I watched her as she sailed away
Into the slowly setting sun
Thinking of all she had told me
And the life that she had run.
The first thing she had done in life
Were joyful sails o'er the ocean blue
Then,drafted into war she was,
And cared for the soldiers too.
I loved her so very dearly,
And dreaded when we had to part,
But thoughts of meeting once again
Gradually settled my heart.
Her Captain took her one way,
Mine took me the other,
I remembered everything I saw
So I could later tell my dear mother.
Not everything was exciting
In those future trips I took,
Months were passing,but I recalled
Everything like a reference book.
So much time was passing,
Now the time was nigh,
When I 'd wait for dear Mother to come in
From the waves she did ply.
I waited and waited that first day
Sought out on the open sea,
It would be a wonderful time
When it was just her and me.
She would tell of her trip,
I would tell of mine
How proud she was to carry the flag
Of the White Star Line.
I waited and waited to see the tugs
That would pull her back to shore,
Just her and I together,
Sharing stories once more.
She didn't come in that day,
Perhaps that she was late
Taking a little longer that
The time the humans did slate.
She didn't come in that next day either
And I started to fret!
Did she come into a different dock
Than what she'd normally get?
The next day came,and far way,
I saw quite a sight.
Something that looked like a ship,
Though didn't appear quite right.
I watched the tugs pull it closer,
Yes,'twas a ship indeed.
But,what in heavens happened
To give it this somber lead?
I could tell it was grand at one time,
Yet,that seemed so long ago,
Curiousity wracked my mind,
And I wanted to know.
This somber shell came closer,
Devoid of deck and stack,
I looked toward the starboard bow
And the name
OLYMPIC
stared
back.

I couldn't think at all that moment!
My heart welled up with pain!
Olympic! My treasured mother!
I shall never see you again!
You were right about the ship-breakers!
They ruthlessly tore you apart!
Not paying any heed to your
Loving,kindly heart!
How shall I survive,
Without your beauty and your truth?!
Those ignorant men killed you
In your 25 years of youth!
Oh,I hope they be cursed
For doing something so bad,
Now I am without you
And so terribly lonely and sad!
Olympic! Olympic!
I shall say your name over and over again,
Hoping it shall bring you back
From hard-hearted sin!
I watched as they pulled you away,
My vision has clouded with tears
Yet,I keep on watching
You endured such fears.
Melancholy feelings grip my heart
I no longer have interest in life!
I have seen the meaning full and complete
Of a word you did call 'strife'.
No more stories to be shared
On a night glowing with moon,
No longer shall I see you,
Gleaming in the sun of noon!
The men have done their worst,
I shall no longer hear your horn,
Such a proud note it had
That I've remembered since I was born!!
Olympic,Olympic,I love you,
I'm so happy you got to hear those words
I'll wait and watch and listen
As the lament is echoed by sea-birds.
Those tug boats are pulling away
Taking you to the last of your fate.
I love you so much,dearest mother,
But,the ship-breakers I hate!!
You pass so slowly before me
I gaze for the last time at your sleek steel,
So strong,once you were,
But that doesn't now seem real.
With barely a ripple the water glides
Across your red and black coat
The humans are so uncaring
Thinking you are only a boat.
Good-bye,my mother dearest,
Farewell and aurevoir too,
I hope so much you are with your sister,
In the heavenly,eternal blue.
I wish you the best of happiness
For you loved your sister so,
As soon as the ship-breakers broke your heart,
I know that's where you did go.
I am so glad I heard the stories of
The life that you did live.
I am so glad I knew the love
The heart of you could give.
I hear the echo of your voice,
The tales that you could bring
The truths of your soul,
And the love that you could sing........

"Brittanic,my darling dearest,
When I was torn into by a collision with the Hawke,
It wasn't exactly pleasant,
And I had to return to dock.
The gentle men,they repaired my ****
Made me as good as new,
Then I sailed out again
Into the ocean blue.
Then,I threw a propeller blade,
Humans called me an accident-prone sort,
But,back again I went,
To be repaired at Belfast port.
That was the last time,dear daughter,
Titanic and I would be side by side
I wished it would last longer,
Yet time did not forever bide.
People took a photo
That immortalized that day
The very last time we'd be together,
Forever together,they'd say.
I hold that glorious memory
In the chambers of my heart.
Under 'lock-and-key',
Never,ever to part.
My sister and I together
Upon the ocean's crest
Glowing in the sunlight
At our next-to-best.
Oh,that moment was so long ago
Our moment side by side.
The last time we'd be together,
Before she sadly died.
The Captain thought me foolish
To plough through icy sin,
Yet,if it meant to save my sister,
I would do it all over again......"

My mother's words echoed
As she drifted away from sight.
Now she was with the one she loved
And tried to save on a 15th of April night.
I said my last good-bye to her
When the tug boats pulled her away.
This memory emblazoned fiercly
On this unforgettable day.
I watched a little longer
Wondered if there was sadness in the sea,
The Olympic-Class was over,
Now there was only me.
My mother was a masterpiece
When she was under steam.
Like a picture-postcard,
A reigning Ocean Queen.
People once loved my mother,
They sailed on only her,
But then,there came a change,
And she became a bothersome burr.
No one sought to save her
From the scrappers filth and grime,
She was wanted no longer,
Her age and fashion,her crime.
The people remembered her little
After her scrapping day
No flowers were strewn
In her solemn way.
Did any one else say 'good-bye',
Or,was I the only one?
Bading farewell to her grandeur,
And those crimes she hadn't done.
No monuments were erected
In her grand memory.
She was the daughter of Belfast,
And her second love was me.
She filled 25 years with her riches,
And also with her pride.
Filling them with love,
The love that never lied.
I always thought my mother to be
An invincible sort.
Who had no fears,or,if she did,
She left them back at port.
Her haunting words echoed
Her fortelling of her fate:

"I am nothing more than 50,000 tons of steel
For the scrappers to break...."

She said it with a certain sadness
For that was her future path,
She didn't deny  it with falsehoods
That they would tear her heart in half.
I shudder at the thought
Of the scrappers fire and tools
Who looked at my mother so eagerly
With eyes bespeaking cruel.
The company wanted her no longer,
No matter the life she had had,

"Scrapping happens to a good many ship,"
she said,
"And it is so brutal and sad."

What had she endured
In the breakers waterless dock?
Did she think of me?
Was I her final thought?
I love you,dearest mother,
There shall never be another like you
Think of you often,I will,
Upon the bounteous blue.

I am always the daughter of Olympic,
Always shall be Brittanic,
Always shall remember the love of my mother,
And the bravery of one named Titanic.
I  will always miss my mother,
And our days together in dock,
The stories she lovingly told me,
Be also under lock.
I will probably not share my stories
With many others,true,
But if the time does arise,
Share them I shall do.

"Brittanic,what was Lady Olympic like?
Did the people make her grand?"

"Yes,dear friend,she was fine,
One of the finest in the land...."
Though I am very learned in the subjects of Olympic,Titanic and Brittanic,any one who knows the story will realize many details have been left out. The reason for this is because I made it more of a 'human-interest' poem,to show the three sisters in a different light other than engine-driven steel leviathan vessels. Placing Olympic as the mother of Brittanic makes it easier,in my opinion,to gain feelings towards the matter. Yes,Brittanic was sunk in war ages before Olympic was sold to the T.W Ward shipyard,but to mix the details around makes it more interesting. I aim this prose to  spark interest in RMS Olympic,a grand lady who is remembered little.  Put yourself in the position of Brittanic and imagine the fright at seeing the demolished and scrapped vessel as her mother. When all is said and done though,I dedicate this poem to RMS  OLYMPIC. Rest In Peace,dear lady.
Love Nov 2013
You have no idea how badly I just want to stop,
Stop everything.
Today is one those says that I honestly feel like everything would be ok,
If I was to just stop.
Stop walking,
Talking,
Breathing,
Beating,
Living.
I'm thankful for my life,
But I feel like I don't deserve it.
I've never felt like I deserve it.
But I was given it,
And I cant give it back,
There's no receipt.
So I'm stuck.
I'm like an annoying teenager on the phone,
Who keeps saying bye,
But never hangs up.
Well I'm still taking up the line.
Bye...
Bye...
Bye...
**** it,
I'm not going anywhere am I?
djr Jun 2012
[Click]

“Yo yo yo, welcome back to the Def Poetry Slam. Comin’ up on da stage next we got two favorites who certainly ain’t a favorite of each other… na mean, na mean? They’re both hear reppin’ the London, so give a big round for ‘Lord Bye-Bye, and Johnny Cleats’…
Yeah, yeah. You guys know the rules… get to it. Bye-Bye, you’re startin’”

He walks in Beauty, like the dawn
whose bright and crimson sun alights
So all of those around him fawn
and follow him into the night
Now I know why my friend Trelawn
does envy him with all his might

Oh no, I, am so sorry,
My mind has come to function
all of this, you see, is me
And while he’s got some gumption
aesthetic he, but hungry, Keats
only talent for consumption

“Ohhhhh! No he didn’t, no he di-in’t! Yo Cleats, get some traction on this and tear him away.”

Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
staring down from atop an ivory stool
Your title, then, will keep them in your dance
and little else, you shallow-swimming fool

You see, My Lord, and that is all you pageant
as simple work as that does a flask
My words, instead, are all that I imagine
Of that, My Lord, mine is the hardest task

“Ohhh… well Round One’s gotta go to Bye-Bye, the audience has chosen, but… John? Johnny Boy? Hello? Where lies you, English Poet?… Can it be?… Can it be?… Ladies and Gentlemen… I think we have our first official **** in the ring. Must’ve been something we said. I guess it’s over. Bye-Bye… you got anything to say on your victory?”

So, we’ll go no more a roving
as our battle was cut short
Just as I thought you would be atoning
for your lack of literary tort

I’m classically trained, John Dear
and a weakness of the meek:
It’s that you have a deathly fear
and cannot survive critique

“That’s kinda cold, dude. You and I both kno–”

[Click]
Dev A Feb 2014
Good-bye
Good-bye
Good-bye…

How many more times
Must I say those two
Simple,
Sad,
Dreadful,
Words?

How many more times
Must I say those two
Heartbreaking,
Cheerless,
Mournful,
Words,
To the people
Who mean the most
To me?

I’ve said those two
Depressing,
Stressful,
Gloomy,
Words,
More times
Than I can count.

I don’t know
How many more times
I can say those two
Dismal,
Horrible,
Upsetting,
Words,
Before I fall apart
Into a million
Little,
Tiny,
Microscopic,
Pieces,
Left unfixable.
Impossible
To be put back together.

How many more times
Must I say those two
Tearful,
Heart-rending,
Wretched,
Words?

Good-bye
Good-bye
G­ood-bye…
I wrote this one after brother moved over seas a few days ago
Alicia Nicole Nov 2011
Hello good-bye.
Hello good-bye.
Twenty years compounded into twenty minutes
Please make this night last forever.
The clock ticks the minutes pass nice to meet you over and over again
Rise and fall only to rise over and over again
Shaking hands introduction meeting
Killing so softly softly slowly
Only to be born again
Rising living born here right now in this moment within the last twenty minutes
Twenty years crashing colliding complete
Completely alive right now and for the next twenty minutes
Inhaling and exhaling deeply slowly making the minutes last forever
Please make this night last forever.

Sleeping moon never asleep guided by the light
Guided softly softly slowly death like birth dying feels like living
Living life in one night in twenty minutes
Twenty minutes of perfection flawlessness beauty grace
Softly perfect sinking away shining away
Morning sun rising reflecting
Reflecting eyes that speak twenty years
Eyes that whisper beauty grace perfection life and death hope and tragedy
Twenty years in twenty minutes in those eyes
They made the night last forever and the morning arrival too soon
Hello hugging embracing shaking trembling good-bye
Good-bye admit good-bye to the night to the eyes to the life to the air
Hello to the morning good-bye to the night
Night that lasted forever that brought death and life
That rises and falls
Wishing it would rise again and last forever.
Nicki Paige Feb 2014
Children scream and cry
Mothers scream and lie
Fathers scream and say good bye
Family's fight and live their lives

Holds her daughter close
Daddy's gonna be okay
Daddy don't walk away
We love you anyway

Daddy don't say good bye
Without you Mommy might die

Kisses on the head daddy goes away
Two years go bye  
I see daddy's eyes
Smiles all day but mommy is afraid
She locks the door and screams good bye

Pulls a gun from her bag
Kisses me on the head
And says good bye
Screaming it was all because daddy said good bye
Johnnie Rae Jun 2012
Pssh, *****, your secrets out,
Nothing left to do but sit and pout,
All you make me wanna do is ******* shout,

Haha *****, you're no longer safe,
So here I sit, watching you pace, wondering what you'll do with your day,
When you're not trying to ruin peoples lives, what will you do with your time?

Thats what I've been wondering about, but that okay, because your secrets out,
And now you'll be shunned by everyone, just like you tried to force on me,
But we knew this would work out for me,
***** this is reality, you can't just go about doing as you please, trying to make a mess out of me,

To be honest, you almost had me, you almost killed me completely,
But I had people on my side, someone found out you're a lying *****,
And now I can be happy with the real friends I have, unlike you, you little ****,
So bye bye *****, have fun making up for all the **** you've done.
Written about a ***** who think she can liee...and not get caught...***** please..ive got my ways
allie May 2017
The words that are covered in darkness
crawl up my legs and into my mind
and slowly break my thoughts.

I can no longer burden those around me
or shed my reflection on them.
No longer will I drag them down
from their high place in life,
and stoop them down to my level.

Tears leave my eyes as I enter the room
that holds my death.
I do not know the effect it will have,
nor do I care.
All I can think is the depressing darkness
that floods my mind every time I close my eyes.

Yes, it will hurt.
But nothing can hurt more than my very existence.
So I sing the tune that enters my mind
as I slit my wrists.

*"Bye, bye, little birdy. I'll miss you so."
Written for a friend. M, I love you so much. I know you don't have an account, so maybe that's why I wrote this here. Please don't go. You have no clue how much you mean to us.
Dev A Jun 2013
Saying Goodbye Part IV
To AW:

9 years…
9 years is a long time to know someone.
9 long, amazing, wonderful, crazy years.
(Even if we were only friends for 7 of those)
What more is there to say?
You’ve ALWAYS been there.
You’ve ALWAYS been my best guy friend.
You listened when no one else would
Even when it was something stupid.
You took my slaps and punches
As my punching bag
And never forced me to stop.
(You’ve no idea how much this helped!)
When we grew apart
You were still there.
I didn’t get to say good-bye when you graduated.
But now I don’t want to.
I don’t know how.
Even after a year of being apart
We can still pick up where we ended.
What more can I say?
Please keep in touch!
Please, I beg of you!
I can’t lose a friend like you.
These past two days have reminded me of that.
Thanks for the memories:
Crazy
Stupid
Bad
Amazing
Wonderful
Weird
Fun
Messed up.
Honestly
I never wanted to hurt you
(Really! I just said those things as a joke! I don’t really want to throw/push you off a building and I don’t mean all those distressing  things I always say. It’s only to you because I love you and know you won’t take it seriously!)
I don’t want to say good-bye
I don’t want to leave so soon
But I have to go
I have to say good-bye.
Here it goes:
You’re my best guy friend
And I love you for who you are!
Please stay the same crazy, loving, ****** that you are!
I’ll miss you so much!
I don’t know when I’ll see you again.
But just know these few things:
How much I love you
(And our friendship)
That you’ve helped me
(Even when you didn’t know it)
That our love/hate relationship is why we’re such good friends
That we WILL see each other again.
Finally;
I’ll miss you like crazy!
Good-bye!!!
Seriously? What is your problem!?
Every day I am nice,
I smile and laugh.
If you were upset, I'd come and help you out.

But everyday I wake up and I'm in a good mood
But by night, I can't sleep because of the constant stress you put me through!

My own friends,
My anger is boiling up inside of me
Eventually, one day, I'm going to snap!!
And bye bye Mr nice guy!

So *******! Fly away!
I'm not putting up with this for another day!
I might not show my anger, but there is a different side to me.
And believe me, this isn't a side you want to see!
Harold r hunt sr Apr 2017
setting here waiting as the days go bye.
nothing to do but look at you as the days go bye.
fun times are long but not forgotten as the days go bye
schooldays have past and so have friends as the days go bye.
growing old each day year by year as the days go bye.
now is the time to leave and let the next one wait as the days go bye..
Good-bye
my hushboy
Good-bye
sweetness
Good-bye
to being treated like a toy
Good-bye
to failed tries
Good-bye
my dimple faced boy
I hope some will bring you joy
or the happiness
you once brought me
it's sad we can never be
but in the end all I want
is for you to be happy.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
****...
        had an appointment,
a triage appointment from 8 a.m. onward,
that went high flying  with Icarus and Lucifer -
dazed and confused woke up at approx. 9 a.m.,
the life of a kingmaker; but never the king -
                                     energy! energy! energy!
downed a whiskey and eased... dialled the number
to the local surgery,
Dr. So-and-So was told he had a nice
voice... started doing the auto-cue...
nice muzak - classical, Bach
symphony no. don't know -
6th in line...
                      first dial the conversation
sounded like:
hello?
              can you hear me?
are you there?
             hello?
                                i could hear the
business of clerks and office
banter in the background, got hung up.
dialled again...
                   n'eh n'oh n'eh n'oh (more like
knee-no, knee-no, knee-no and
bright blue fluorescent blinking lights)
            waited with more Bach muzak...
  the same woman answered as she did
yesterday...
                       yeah, he called,
sorry, i'm an insomniac, fell asleep at
the last hurdle, missed the call,
can i book another appointment?
                 past the slight slur and
disorientation (**** me, mornings are
rough, not as rough as i remember them,
but rough enough these days):
and ever you hear the glorification of
work and never mention the Chinese thieves:
beckoning the dynamic toward Auschwitz.
   so i was playing Adele for a while...
- hello?
- hello?
                      - yes, hello...
- hello?
                    - me Tarzan, me book appointment...
- hello?
                          **** on me,
never do whiskey in the morning,
have some barley and milk...
               yes, me, book, appointment,
England pays me £120 a week for poems
but doesn't know it...
     i pretend to be sick but i'm competing
with Stephen Hawking for the disability...
turns out my brain isn't made of concrete
but of a variety of sponges that soaked up
salmon sweat...
                            so i get booked...
apparently nurse Lizzy (Elizabeth?
yes, Liz, she want's to check my blood pressure
and my cholesterol levels...
                                                   )
dandy, and Andy too (cockney hack for
lazed handy and the oops joke) -
                     **** on me, it's mandible,
jaw or play-dough,
            softer... softer... softly...
smooth operator... smooth operator...
             and she says bye like 20 times before
i hang up...
                             it all seems like lovers
talking by the end of it...
                               so after 2 p.m.?
   thank you...
                                the way women say
bye bye bye...
                                into that famous hush...
            i end up petting the cat
and watching the godforsaken drizzle of
                             jesting rain that feels like
a complete remark of wetting a square metre...
                  then it's onto an article
about Paxman's dad...
                                       i wasn't perfect, once
upon a Grimm's tale...
                                       i used to binge
once a week, never smoked,
                                      studied...
            all that hushed bye bye bye
over the phone and a Yob's redemption aren't
on the horizon... don't sacrifice yourself for
things inherent if you can't redeem...
                                  i'm just like the rest of them:
       broken,
                       broken,
                                        and left to scramble
testicles for the bitterest of jokes:
                             i don't pity the kids with
cancer...
                  they're too brave to be pitied,
they have no competence of life,
                                        and they're the lucky ones.
i pity the nervous wrecks that surround them,
staging excess ethical conduct of Hippocrates
            happy little ******* engaged with
so much affection... never human cruelty and
the human definition of thought-in-transit: boredom...
        happy little *******...
                                         angelic choir ensemble -
    and with a snap of the fingers: without a moan
or a groan... gone...
                                        gone gone gone...
a **** evaporating into roses and flamboyant
chequers of shameful cheeks
                              in Bermuda:
                         pirouettes in high-heels.
still...
          2 p.m. and another appointment...
fun playing that Adele game over the phone with
               a sexed up voice of longing.
May
Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
And hedge row crickets notes that run
From every bank that fronts the sun
And swathy bees about the grass
That stops wi every bloom they pass
And every minute every hour
Keep teazing weeds that wear a flower
And toil and childhoods humming joys
For there is music in the noise
The village childern mad for sport
In school times leisure ever short
That crick and catch the bouncing ball
And run along the church yard wall
Capt wi rude figured slabs whose claims
In times bad memory hath no names
Oft racing round the nookey church
Or calling ecchos in the porch
And jilting oer the weather ****
Viewing wi jealous eyes the clock
Oft leaping grave stones leaning hights
Uncheckt wi mellancholy sights
The green grass swelld in many a heap
Where kin and friends and parents sleep
Unthinking in their jovial cry
That time shall come when they shall lye
As lowly and as still as they
While other boys above them play
Heedless as they do now to know
The unconcious dust that lies below
The shepherd goes wi happy stride
Wi moms long shadow by his side
Down the dryd lanes neath blooming may
That once was over shoes in clay
While martins twitter neath his eves
Which he at early morning leaves
The driving boy beside his team
Will oer the may month beauty dream
And **** his hat and turn his eye
On flower and tree and deepning skye
And oft bursts loud in fits of song
And whistles as he reels along
Cracking his whip in starts of joy
A happy ***** driving boy
The youth who leaves his corner stool
Betimes for neighbouring village school
While as a mark to urge him right
The church spires all the way in sight
Wi cheerings from his parents given
Starts neath the joyous smiles of heaven
And sawns wi many an idle stand
Wi bookbag swinging in his hand
And gazes as he passes bye
On every thing that meets his eye
Young lambs seem tempting him to play
Dancing and bleating in his way
Wi trembling tails and pointed ears
They follow him and loose their fears
He smiles upon their sunny faces
And feign woud join their happy races
The birds that sing on bush and tree
Seem chirping for his company
And all in fancys idle whim
Seem keeping holiday but him
He lolls upon each resting stile
To see the fields so sweetly smile
To see the wheat grow green and long
And list the weeders toiling song
Or short note of the changing thrush
Above him in the white thorn bush
That oer the leaning stile bends low
Loaded wi mockery of snow
Mozzld wi many a lushing thread
Of crab tree blossoms delicate red
He often bends wi many a wish
Oer the brig rail to view the fish
Go sturting by in sunny gleams
And chucks in the eye dazzld streams
Crumbs from his pocket oft to watch
The swarming struttle come to catch
Them where they to the bottom sile
Sighing in fancys joy the while
Hes cautiond not to stand so nigh
By rosey milkmaid tripping bye
Where he admires wi fond delight
And longs to be there mute till night
He often ventures thro the day
At truant now and then to play
Rambling about the field and plain
Seeking larks nests in the grain
And picking flowers and boughs of may
To hurd awhile and throw away
Lurking neath bushes from the sight
Of tell tale eyes till schools noon night
Listing each hour for church clocks hum
To know the hour to wander home
That parents may not think him long
Nor dream of his rude doing wrong
Dreading thro the night wi dreaming pain
To meet his masters wand again
Each hedge is loaded thick wi green
And where the hedger late hath been
Tender shoots begin to grow
From the mossy stumps below
While sheep and cow that teaze the grain
will nip them to the root again
They lay their bill and mittens bye
And on to other labours hie
While wood men still on spring intrudes
And thins the shadow solitudes
Wi sharpend axes felling down
The oak trees budding into brown
Where as they crash upon the ground
A crowd of labourers gather round
And mix among the shadows dark
To rip the crackling staining bark
From off the tree and lay when done
The rolls in lares to meet the sun
Depriving yearly where they come
The green wood pecker of its home
That early in the spring began
Far from the sight of troubling man
And bord their round holes in each tree
In fancys sweet security
Till startld wi the woodmans noise
It wakes from all its dreaming joys
The blue bells too that thickly bloom
Where man was never feared to come
And smell smocks that from view retires
**** rustling leaves and bowing briars
And stooping lilys of the valley
That comes wi shades and dews to dally
White beady drops on slender threads
Wi broad hood leaves above their heads
Like white robd maids in summer hours
Neath umberellas shunning showers
These neath the barkmens crushing treads
Oft perish in their blooming beds
Thus stript of boughs and bark in white
Their trunks shine in the mellow light
Beneath the green surviving trees
That wave above them in the breeze
And waking whispers slowly bends
As if they mournd their fallen friends
Each morning now the weeders meet
To cut the thistle from the wheat
And ruin in the sunny hours
Full many wild weeds of their flowers
Corn poppys that in crimson dwell
Calld ‘head achs’ from their sickly smell
And carlock yellow as the sun
That oer the may fields thickly run
And ‘iron ****’ content to share
The meanest spot that spring can spare
Een roads where danger hourly comes
Is not wi out its purple blooms
And leaves wi points like thistles round
Thickset that have no strength to wound
That shrink to childhoods eager hold
Like hair—and with its eye of gold
And scarlet starry points of flowers
Pimpernel dreading nights and showers
Oft calld ‘the shepherds weather glass’
That sleep till suns have dyd the grass
Then wakes and spreads its creeping bloom
Till clouds or threatning shadows come
Then close it shuts to sleep again
Which weeders see and talk of rain
And boys that mark them shut so soon
will call them ‘John go bed at noon
And fumitory too a name
That superstition holds to fame
Whose red and purple mottled flowers
Are cropt by maids in weeding hours
To boil in water milk and way1
For washes on an holiday
To make their beauty fair and sleak
And scour the tan from summers cheek
And simple small forget me not
Eyd wi a pinshead yellow spot
I’th’ middle of its tender blue
That gains from poets notice due
These flowers the toil by crowds destroys
And robs them of their lowly joys
That met the may wi hopes as sweet
As those her suns in gardens meet
And oft the dame will feel inclind
As childhoods memory comes to mind
To turn her hook away and spare
The blooms it lovd to gather there
My wild field catalogue of flowers
Grows in my ryhmes as thick as showers
Tedious and long as they may be
To some, they never weary me
The wood and mead and field of grain
I coud hunt oer and oer again
And talk to every blossom wild
Fond as a parent to a child
And cull them in my childish joy
By swarms and swarms and never cloy
When their lank shades oer morning pearls
Shrink from their lengths to little girls
And like the clock hand pointing one
Is turnd and tells the morning gone
They leave their toils for dinners hour
Beneath some hedges bramble bower
And season sweet their savory meals
Wi joke and tale and merry peals
Of ancient tunes from happy tongues
While linnets join their fitful songs
Perchd oer their heads in frolic play
Among the tufts of motling may
The young girls whisper things of love
And from the old dames hearing move
Oft making ‘love knotts’ in the shade
Of blue green oat or wheaten blade
And trying simple charms and spells
That rural superstition tells
They pull the little blossom threads
From out the knapweeds button heads
And put the husk wi many a smile
In their white bosoms for awhile
Who if they guess aright the swain
That loves sweet fancys trys to gain
Tis said that ere its lain an hour
Twill blossom wi a second flower
And from her white ******* hankerchief
Bloom as they ne’er had lost a leaf
When signs appear that token wet
As they are neath the bushes met
The girls are glad wi hopes of play
And harping of the holiday
A hugh blue bird will often swim
Along the wheat when skys grow dim
Wi clouds—slow as the gales of spring
In motion wi dark shadowd wing
Beneath the coming storm it sails
And lonly chirps the wheat hid quails
That came to live wi spring again
And start when summer browns the grain
They start the young girls joys afloat
Wi ‘wet my foot’ its yearly note
So fancy doth the sound explain
And proves it oft a sign of rain
About the moor ‘**** sheep and cow
The boy or old man wanders now
Hunting all day wi hopful pace
Each thick sown rushy thistly place
For plover eggs while oer them flye
The fearful birds wi teazing cry
Trying to lead their steps astray
And coying him another way
And be the weather chill or warm
Wi brown hats truckd beneath his arm
Holding each prize their search has won
They plod bare headed to the sun
Now dames oft bustle from their wheels
Wi childern scampering at their heels
To watch the bees that hang and swive
In clumps about each thronging hive
And flit and thicken in the light
While the old dame enjoys the sight
And raps the while their warming pans
A spell that superstition plans
To coax them in the garden bounds
As if they lovd the tinkling sounds
And oft one hears the dinning noise
Which dames believe each swarm decoys
Around each village day by day
Mingling in the warmth of may
Sweet scented herbs her skill contrives
To rub the bramble platted hives
Fennels thread leaves and crimpld balm
To scent the new house of the swarm
The thresher dull as winter days
And lost to all that spring displays
Still mid his barn dust forcd to stand
Swings his frail round wi weary hand
While oer his head shades thickly creep
And hides the blinking owl asleep
And bats in cobweb corners bred
Sharing till night their murky bed
The sunshine trickles on the floor
Thro every crevice of the door
And makes his barn where shadows dwell
As irksome as a prisoners cell
And as he seeks his daily meal
As schoolboys from their tasks will steal
ile often stands in fond delay
To see the daisy in his way
And wild weeds flowering on the wall
That will his childish sports recall
Of all the joys that came wi spring
The twirling top the marble ring
The gingling halfpence hussld up
At pitch and toss the eager stoop
To pick up heads, the smuggeld plays
Neath hovels upon sabbath days
When parson he is safe from view
And clerk sings amen in his pew
The sitting down when school was oer
Upon the threshold by his door
Picking from mallows sport to please
Each crumpld seed he calld a cheese
And hunting from the stackyard sod
The stinking hen banes belted pod
By youths vain fancys sweetly fed
Christning them his loaves of bread
He sees while rocking down the street
Wi weary hands and crimpling feet
Young childern at the self same games
And hears the self same simple names
Still floating on each happy tongue
Touchd wi the simple scene so strong
Tears almost start and many a sigh
Regrets the happiness gone bye
And in sweet natures holiday
His heart is sad while all is gay
How lovly now are lanes and balks
For toils and lovers sunday walks
The daisey and the buttercup
For which the laughing childern stoop
A hundred times throughout the day
In their rude ramping summer play
So thickly now the pasture crowds
In gold and silver sheeted clouds
As if the drops in april showers
Had woo’d the sun and swoond to flowers
The brook resumes its summer dresses
Purling neath grass and water cresses
And mint and flag leaf swording high
Their blooms to the unheeding eye
And taper bowbent hanging rushes
And horse tail childerns bottle brushes
And summer tracks about its brink
Is fresh again where cattle drink
And on its sunny bank the swain
Stretches his idle length again
Soon as the sun forgets the day
The moon looks down on the lovly may
And the little star his friend and guide
Travelling together side by side
And the seven stars and charleses wain
Hangs smiling oer green woods agen
The heaven rekindles all alive
Wi light the may bees round the hive
Swarm not so thick in mornings eye
As stars do in the evening skye
All all are nestling in their joys
The flowers and birds and pasture boys
The firetail, long a stranger, comes
To his last summer haunts and homes
To hollow tree and crevisd wall
And in the grass the rails odd call
That featherd spirit stops the swain
To listen to his note again
And school boy still in vain retraces
The secrets of his hiding places
In the black thorns crowded copse
Thro its varied turns and stops
The nightingale its ditty weaves
Hid in a multitude of leaves
The boy stops short to hear the strain
And ’sweet jug jug’ he mocks again
The yellow hammer builds its nest
By banks where sun beams earliest rest
That drys the dews from off the grass
Shading it from all that pass
Save the rude boy wi ferret gaze
That hunts thro evry secret maze
He finds its pencild eggs agen
All streakd wi lines as if a pen
By natures freakish hand was took
To scrawl them over like a book
And from these many mozzling marks
The school boy names them ‘writing larks’
*** barrels twit on bush and tree
Scarse bigger then a bumble bee
And in a white thorns leafy rest
It builds its curious pudding-nest
Wi hole beside as if a mouse
Had built the little barrel house
Toiling full many a lining feather
And bits of grey tree moss together
Amid the noisey rooky park
Beneath the firdales branches dark
The little golden crested wren
Hangs up his glowing nest agen
And sticks it to the furry leaves
As martins theirs beneath the eaves
The old hens leave the roost betimes
And oer the garden pailing climbs
To scrat the gardens fresh turnd soil
And if unwatchd his crops to spoil
Oft cackling from the prison yard
To peck about the houseclose sward
Catching at butterflys and things
Ere they have time to try their wings
The cattle feels the breath of may
And kick and toss their heads in play
The *** beneath his bags of sand
Oft jerks the string from leaders hand
And on the road will eager stoop
To pick the sprouting thistle up
Oft answering on his weary way
Some distant neighbours sobbing bray
Dining the ears of driving boy
As if he felt a fit of joy
Wi in its pinfold circle left
Of all its company bereft
Starvd stock no longer noising round
Lone in the nooks of foddering ground
Each skeleton of lingering stack
By winters tempests beaten black
Nodds upon props or bolt upright
Stands swarthy in the summer light
And oer the green grass seems to lower
Like stump of old time wasted tower
All that in winter lookd for hay
Spread from their batterd haunts away
To pick the grass or lye at lare
Beneath the mild hedge shadows there
Sweet month that gives a welcome call
To toil and nature and to all
Yet one day mid thy many joys
Is dead to all its sport and noise
Old may day where’s thy glorys gone
All fled and left thee every one
Thou comst to thy old haunts and homes
Unnoticd as a stranger comes
No flowers are pluckt to hail the now
Nor cotter seeks a single bough
The maids no more on thy sweet morn
Awake their thresholds to adorn
Wi dewey flowers—May locks new come
And princifeathers cluttering bloom
And blue bells from the woodland moss
And cowslip cucking ***** to toss
Above the garlands swinging hight
Hang in the soft eves sober light
These maid and child did yearly pull
By many a folded apron full
But all is past the merry song
Of maidens hurrying along
To crown at eve the earliest cow
Is gone and dead and silent now
The laugh raisd at the mocking thorn
Tyd to the cows tail last that morn
The kerchief at arms length displayd
Held up by pairs of swain and maid
While others bolted underneath
Bawling loud wi panting breath
‘Duck under water’ as they ran
Alls ended as they ne’er began
While the new thing that took thy place
Wears faded smiles upon its face
And where enclosure has its birth
It spreads a mildew oer her mirth
The herd no longer one by one
Goes plodding on her morning way
And garlands lost and sports nigh gone
Leaves her like thee a common day
Yet summer smiles upon thee still
Wi natures sweet unalterd will
And at thy births unworshipd hours
Fills her green lap wi swarms of flowers
To crown thee still as thou hast been
Of spring and summer months the queen
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
daj, do wynagrodzenia: reszty.
daj: to niby: siebie;
a... dam... dam...
ale pierw: powiem:             to!
(ich) nicht werden
                  geben (ihr) das nacht!
first... i'll punch myself
hard enough to give myself
a plum-eye: ******* pacifists...
and then?
    then i'll strap a trouser belt
to protect my knuckles...
and then... then...
                    then: we'll "talk":
who might find a translator
ready...
   god...
i'm gagging for a
knuckle exchange...
        almost... itching!
like i might await
a shaving... from a Turkish
barber... in Essex...
of all Danish palaces;
and why would i want to allow
consort with these women?
considering the fact that
the russian ones believe in trans-national
grievance taxation:
of someone... who hasn't...
actually died...
              you know what?
*******...
suffer...
       watch me wipe my ***
with a satanic smile
ennobled
by a coulrophobia...
excesses of vogue
                      atypical models...
how is it... that...
coulrophobia doesn't translate
in reverse?
  and what's up
with the black privilege of
jass music, akin to white mozart...
as...  
  sure as ****, the drum would be
the first, and only thing,
prior to the people learning
the ******* clarinet!

oh drop me your ****** ***
holocaust dead bomb
on a polish ***...
     i triple, quadruple dare you!
you *******... ivory coast
   centipede!
               i'm *******...
as watts: wild-eyed...
       unstrap me from this
"unreality" of conversation...
then undo the internet banking...
and the rest of it...

             not adam watts!
    glitter & doom....
who?      tom waits...
oh **** me... blue valentine?
if that's not a **** with me
album... what is?
                 live circus?
        
do i look like a ******* ****-
(see the hyphen?
it's a prefix... the english are
lazy sometimes: couldn't,
i.e. could not,
remnants of shakespearean
english...

       i'll always cite macbeth...

  time, thou anticipat'st my dread
exploits: the flighty purpose never
is o'eertook, unless the deed go with it.
from this moment, the very firstlings
of my heart shall be
  the very firstlings of my heart.
   and even now, to crown my thoughts
with acts, be it thought and done.


it's hardly a racial slur, ergo...
why so ******* sensitive akin to a french
footballer or a ballerina?
   ****- (hyphen! hyphen!) ergo a prefix...
as already mention:
no, no...
   it's not: no iraqi ever called me a pa-ki
      (pákí)... yeah...
and you never called an afghanistani an
afghan, ever, no?
   pure camaraderie in that part of
the world... all the way... yeah yeah... yeah...
-stani (suffix) is sometimes missing
because... the english like to shorten words...
e.g. why is daniel: dan,
why is matthew: matt?
  why is muhammad: mo (farrah)?
                                    ******* pansies...
police your circumcised penises fiddling
english teenager girl, first,
come after my vocab. justifications: after;
savvy?

or a gypsy?
   by now...
     i'm looking like any
traveler...
and the world...
       forever resembled
a world,
  in the confines of
      a claustrophobia...

but... if there's a bigger concern for
a world...
  and a freedom...
i want a bare knuckle fight...
a black eye...
namely...
you bring  BOXING GLOVE...
and i'll bring...
     a LEATHER BELT...
wrapped around my knuckles,
and the wrist...
    like i might care to give
a second attempt to smile...

ah... the men... who care
about minding, if not in the least,
keeping women...
      bye bye, bye bye...
       and i've allowed myself
to know my grandfather...
as i did the slap in the face...
and...
the key question:
in the unfathomability of counting
the 32 / 4 ratio...
alas... one fist... one smile...

and countless... dentistry encounters...
because?
   because the rest?
the cultural artifacts of a today?
  lost to h'americana...
            as i might have wished...
for my prior genes
to make an autobiography
in **** germany...
  
   what?
  
      well... obviously: the oops.

no, for the crescendo...
you know...
           i'm getting this funny vibe...
gott ist tot... it's not really spectacular...
nietzsche really believed in eternity,
to the point where he pointed:
what does science offer, only old age...
what does religion provide? eternity...
oh nietzsche was big on eternity...
   gott ist tot is as unspectular as:
is it: how to do you pronounce x,
or is it: how do you pronunciate y?
debate:
              everyone says around here
the former... since no one wants to be a *****...
pro-nun-ci-ate (pro-nun-cíate)...
   might as well replenish the vocab. bank
and replace the word with:
how do you elocute z? / recite)....

gott ist tot / gott ist tod...
    "same ****, different cover"...
you know why i believe in god?
    not the christian reference points...
salvation blah blah, saviour and hide & seek blah blah...
n'ah... where would i derive all my vocab.
hunger if not from him?
   some men derive their vocab. from
women or gambling...
            i am not in the position of their
luxury... so god it is...

            primarily though?
               god is metaphysics...
             ergo? his judgement is not clouded
by metaphysical questioning...
it's impossible to receive a metaphysical
answer from a metaphysical question
when engaging with a metaphysical
ontological paraphrase of one's own search
for meaning in this mortal frame...

oh sure sure, my belief in god is as juvenille
as anyone else's belief in humanity's
clarity when it comes to jurisprudence
and its application...
    i've experience "jurisprudence" once...
drive-by phone theft...
me and three fwends...
   i catch the number plate...
i tell one of my fwends to note it down,
police station, report, culprit found,
a sit in at a barkingside police station
looking at mug images,
spot the ****** (it was dark when the mugging
took place, photographic memory, **** happens)...
a court session, australia is playing england
at the ashes (****, i missed it)...
in court the defence lawyer shows me
another picture of the culprit...
back then photogrpahs had dates
attached to them...
the photograph? over 4 years old...
i tell him: but this photograph is 4 years old!
how can i identify if this is the same
person: i, myself, will probably
don a beard in four years time!
      a simple slip-up...
        now that i have a beard:
it's so much more fun than growing your
hair long... i hated the nickname
chewbacca back in high school when i was
growing mine for a french braid...
i walk out of the court,
come to terms with the detective...
and i see the same hunger in him as i see in me...
will justice be served?
highly unlikely... since the victim
didn't recognize the *** in the mug-shots...
justice was probably not served...

   and this is how god plays into all of this,
hell or heaven, blah blah...
man created the figure of domina Iustitia
as blind... god created death to be blind...
justice was never supposed to be blind,
death was: the unfortunate deaths
of teenagers in car accidents,
among all the other freak accidents...

clouded with so many metaphysical questions
i don't appreciate man's ability to adhere
to jurisprudence without being
subjectively contaminated...
i have more belief in an "imaginary"
god than belief that strains me to belief
in man's sense of justice...
          the nuremberg trials are a rare exception...
but only when the culprits are
unabashed and fathomable by a collective
sense of pride... a blidness...
i believe in god, because i'd love to experience
the judgement of a post scriptum of
metaphysics...
  personally? i have been wronged...
heavily...
            i will not name names....
i know when and how i was wronged,
and by whom...
                2007... Canterbury...
      i won't name names: i'm not a rat...
man is too clouded with metaphysical questions
to begin with, god isn't,
he's a metaphysical ontology "bias"...
which is why, he is primarily a jurisprudent
answer...
   i'd love to experience divine jurisprudence,
hell or heaven are not of my concern...
and i don't imply divine jurisprudence
associated with the polytheistic take of
jurisprudence via a solipsistic mechanism
of a minor god and the person in question
without the hurt party...
in monotheism the god is solipsism personified...
these days: also the personna non grata...
so no... gott ist nicht tot...
            he's a personna non grata...
i just don't appreciate the human *******
of law, law governance...
   come on, in england you can receive
an a.s.b.o.s. for your cockerel being too loud
in the morning, your dog barking...
           would you trust man with
jurisprudence?
  a woman was cleared of the ******
of her husband
       when she hammered his head into a pancake:
over an abusive relationship...
police, weren't, "there"?!
sure sure... the hammer will do...
i believe in god without a sense of reward...
i just don't think man is capable of
passing justifiable laws...
no man could ever pass the eternal laws,
gravity... 100°C for the boiling of water...
i need a being  who has groundwork
in eternal laws, in unshakeable laws...
the ten commandments aren't:
you shall not...
   more... maybe, you shouldn't...
they are the most pristine jurisprudent
laws available... the: maybe you shouldn't,
eh, chappy?

       i just don't like playing the thesaurus game
on the more tight-knit game
of "passing" the wink-wink of Solomon's
judgement...
please, **** me please,
i'll eat 20 raw herrings in a cream sauce,
slurp 30 oysters,
eat 40 strawberries on a hangpverl
eat out about 50 harem virgins
like a castrato if you ask me, nicely,
**** camel cockey:
lucly i landed on a black gold slurp
with plenty of bangladeshi slaves:
******* of riyadh...
     what did muhammed tell you?
you camel jockeys / sand *******
have clearly forgotten...
******* arabs: short attention span...
you need to remind
the retards...
the dajjal would come from the east...
a palace of gardens...
well obviously the prophet wasn't
thinking about genghis khan...
            
  hmm barbarians...
vikings, arabs: yet so inclined to like poetics...
funny, that...
the civilized peoples banished
the poets...
            the ruling class and their cushioned
people: sacrosanct sycophants...
wankers, basically.

    the hajr? muhammad spoke of the dajjal
coming from the east,
and the east being a city of gardens...
where isn't riyadh and where is mecca?
isn't riyadh east of mecca?
was the dajjal to come from the outside
of islam, or from wtihin?
      last time i checked...
sh'ite islam isn't friendly to sunni islam...
if islam was the one true religion...
would have a shcism have occurred?
i don't think so...
   a persian would never bow before
an arab... that much os true...

oh i believe in god...
given how man practices jurisprudence...
is it some sort of, a, thesaurus game
i wasn't told about?
to me the human quest for jusctice is
a thesaurus game...
man is incapable to pass but one,
eternal, law...
he's great at nuanced laws...
laws allocated to sports...
i mean, **** me, cricket?
the best vocab. you'll ever pick up...

even god isn't as pertinent
in making the sort of music associated
with the limited alpha-to-beta
of A, B, C, D, E, F, and G...
wow! seven... seven?!
how many heads does the beast
of revelation have? oh... 7!

i'll stop tolerating islam, and start respecting it,
when it, acknowledges its presence
as a character study in the book of revelations...
then i'll just move on,
having made my point...

until that time comes...
    it's 600 years shy of becoming what
degenerate christianity has become,
oh and it's ripe...
it's gagging to implode!
600 years and wait for it to become
the next secular vasal conglomorate...

the warning muhammad gave
about "the best from the east"
was in point of question:
   a reference ti gneghis khan...
more like ibn saud:
  thst fat diabetic one eyed ogre...
and the legacy of decadence he left
behind...

saudi men with slavuc girlfriends,
buying up pink cushions and *******
chihuahuas...
**** after ****...
  you know the three slavic proverbs?
1. better a sparrow in your
hand, than a dove on your rooftop?
explanation?
better the small joys at-hand,
than impossible possibilities out of reach....
2. a drunk can spot east,
past mecca, whenever honing
the safety of his own bed... even at night...
not much of a proverb...
3. i don't care to rememeber...

once toleration comes into play,
i will, respect... just a waiting game...
i'm pretty sure no iranian will
bow down to a sunni camel jockey...
i like proud *******,
it implies: there are absolutes,
un-moveable goal posts...

                      if you are ever to bind yourself
in supporting a "side" outside a sports' dynamic,
always the outsider...
always the outsider... in this case?
the ****'ite islam brigade...
       the persians...
the sunnis can shove it...
   *****, bones, whatever....

                   ****'ite islam i can
fathom, even respect,
sunni islam i just tolerate...
  as much as iran takes claims for the
big satan in ref. to h'america...
well... if h'america supports the infantile
saudi arabia, who's to blame them?

you know that polonaise joke about
about the pacifism of jews in
2nd world world war poland?
the joke ran along the words:
weren't the jews shooting the nazis
using crooked elbows (rifles)?
they always seemed to miss them,
taunted into walking into gas chambers,
the ******* hobbits...

          what? some bolshevik Brooklynian
jewish rada is to spare me
                 the pay-up diffrential
telling me, i was wrong?

  as i said before: the nazis lamented
when the warsaw uprising happened...
no, st. paul's doesn't stand proud
because, because...
   even with the blitz...
                 the luftwaffe were told:
you drop a bomb on st. paul's: firing squad...
and when notre-dame de paris -
last time i checked...
   the nazis didn't luftwaffe the **** out
of paris... did they?!

                  the nazis weren't mongols;
no people so well versed in chanel in terms
of their military being so well
   suited & booted could ever make such a
                              architectural sacrilege...

what?! people under the silicon curtain
are gagging, begging even: for nazis!
can i be the first?!
i just want to please the hungry!
if not punk then moving swiftly into ska...
am i the first?
   siliziumvorhang...
well, **** me... from under the eisenvorhang...
what's with these neo-communist pseudos?

and the hebrew god?
a jealous god... so a god with the knowledge
of the existence of other gods...
why wouldn't a jealous god have
no knowledge of other ("imagianry") gods?
to be jealous of only one's own existence?!

3 / 1: that's the ratio....
that's the only ratio... 3 times i experienced
love at first sight:

when i fell in love at first sight...
malina, samantha, janina,
priya....

equal measure: isabella of grenoble...

in reverse:
magda, promis, ilona, kot (i forget her name,
7 years old, first kiss, you can be forgiven
to forget, she had two twin sisters
and she was the senior,
her fasther drove a distribution truck,
milk, i think)...

****, i actually mismanaged
that ratio...

i believe in "a" god...
since i find too much of human jurisprudence
to be riddle with the thesaurus...
i don't think man can pass
law, he can "suppose so"...
but he will never pass the sort of law,
made forbidden,
or absolutely allowed....
i don't believe in a god akin
to the sort of a pontous pilate god
where i'll always find myself
outside of punk evolving into ska...

         mind you...
i'd hate to be trapped within
the confines of an atheistic exclusion zone
of intellect,
      to be trapped in nothing is one
thing, but to be trapped inside
the confines of an atheist's "nothing"
is quiet another....
i don't like being a hamster inside
a cognitive wheel of another...
   god is the jurisprudence spirit,
man the metaphysical spirit...
and i would very much like to stand
in the light of divine law being passed
to finally feel my shadow...

kult: brooklyńska rada żydów...
  not familiar?
  i forgot punk a long time ago...
esp. when californians came up with their
version, ergo? ska...

i'm currently taping a film
about the silesian vampire...
how strange, that the prussians came
back into the ***** of the polonaise...

growing a beard is so much fun!
fiddle after fiddle: and no violin!
atheists bore me
as much as the theistic hags
who's only ambition are
the thrill associated with Sunday
h'america and cinema...
               i can imagine only one
heaven...
where i am blind and given
               a large library of music.
Mike Hauser Feb 2014
Do you feel your knee deep in the river of doubt

Where the current is swift and the piranhas hang out

If you don't know what I mean or what I'm talking about

Hang on to your wallet cause your soon to find out

This mean old world can be bitter at best

It'll grind you up, spit you out, then use you to clean up the mess

Believe we've been here before so don't expect any less

How much more can we take is anyone's guess

We have the lawyers, judges, politicians, with the jury still out

Telling us they know what's best for us and like it or not we're going to find out

Up to our necks now in that river of doubt

Anymore from anyone of them and I think that we'll drown

There is the group on the left and the group on the right

Thinking the other sides wrong and their willing to fight

One side brought guns and the other side knives

Was that Miss Liberty I just saw waving bye, bye

The sides are to steep on the riverbank we are in

We all just might drown cause we haven't learned how to swim

In the tank with the sharks, also known as the politicians

No one to lend us a hand with nothing more there to lend

That's the way it now is from beginning to end

Where we're soon to break cause we no longer can bend

Let's just throw them all out and start all over again

Before it's to late my friends and we do ourselves in
hazem al jaber Jun 2018
Good bye my love ...

good bye my sweetheart ...
good bye my lady ...
whom i loved ...
loved and thought about ...
so many years ...
but she never feel me ...
she never believe me ....
good bye my lady ,,,
whom i kept always ....
so deep inside my heart ...

ooh sorry heart ...
really i'm so sorry ...
to tire you my pity heart ...
to make you always beats ...
with a lady ...
whom never think of you ...
and never feel you ...
sorry heart ...
for every beat that you did ...
for a lady whom never feel you ....

good bye lady ...
i closed my heart ...
and break my pen ...

good bye lady ....
salam ....

hazem al ...
Annamaria Gagno Nov 2012
Lula-bye don't you cry
birds are chirping
sounds of your voice
they hear you sing
a tune of a voice
a Lula-bye don't you cry
someone will come soon
mean time
birds at the window
gaze through the window
see the tiny infant
cuddle up in the blanket
what is the tune
infant is singing
is it speaking to what it wants
she or he
maybe
hungry
or
thirsty
mama will be in
soon to hear your tiny little voice
crying away
a melody for
mom
knowing
she or he
is
hungry
thirsty
need of attention
of love
by a mother
hugs of love
by a
mother
is very over whelming
to how the comforts
a
infant
to suss
back to sleep
but first
the
mother checks
infants
before
she
lays
she or he
back to sleep
sing away
the Lula-bye song
comes in many ways
to understand
an
infants
cry
is knowing
the sounds outside
by many chirping
birds
is the
praise to hear
by the infant
it self
knowing
the cradle will rock
calm down the baby
back to it's comfort
a tender little kiss
by a
love
by a
mother
who settle the infant
by a gentle
little rock
back to sleep
until the baby
will cry
a
Lula-bye don't you cry
Julie Grenness Nov 2015
A long, long time ago, I can still remember when,
Junk food made me smile,
And I knew if had my chance,
That I could make my fatness dance,
And maybe I was happy for a while.

But McDonald's made me shiver,
With every burger they'd deliver,
Bad news on their doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.

I can't remember if I cried,
When  I passed size twenty-five,
But something touched me deep inside,
The day I knocked back obesity fries,
CHORUS.
So, bye, bye McDonald's French fries,
Drove my  chevy away from McDonald's,
didn't have a bevy,
I said goodbye to whiskey and rye,
Singing no more apple pies,
That's the end of obesity fries.....

Did you  go to McDonald's biomes?
Did you know you're  changing your genomes?
Eating all those pesticides?
Now do believe they love you, guys?
Might as well eat dead flies!
And can you change evolution in real time?

Well, I know you're addicted to them,
You'll need more than treadmills in the gym,
Now can't even put on your shoes,
Man, you'll dig the obesity blues,

CHORUS.

I was an obese teenage bronco buck.
Driving to McDonald's in a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day I ate landfill in those French fries...

I started singing bye, bye obesity fries,
Drove my chevy, had no bevies,
And the burgers were dry,
This is the day I knock back French fries.

CHORUS.
I met a girl who sang the blues,
She'd passed turning size twenty-two,
I asked her if she ate junk food too,
She just smiled and drove away,
I drove down to the store no more,
Where I ate additives years before,
But the junk food store didn't care anyway...

CHORUS
CHORUS....
You wait till you get old! Obesity looms. (not really, I have lost 31 kg. )
Vira Dec 2023
Good bye anxious days,
Good bye anticipation,
Good bye expectation,
Good bye stress,
Good bye over commitment,
Good bye bad attachment,
Good bye cravings,
Good bye pretense,
Welcome freedom
Welcome Boundaries
Welcome free will
Welcome choice
Welcome new possibilities
Welcome space
Welcome carefree-ness
Welcome authenticity
Welcome My self.
Allen Wilbert Nov 2013
Mr. Poet Guy

There was a time, not so long ago,
lived a man you all very well know.
Walking down the street one afternoon,
it was a bright sunny day in June.
Came across a man so mean,
what happened next was quite the scene.
Pulled out a gun and shot me dead,
one single bullet into my very head.
That's the day the poet died,
all over the world people cried.
Singing bye-bye Mr. Poet Guy,
paramedics tried, but with tears in eye.
As the police drew their white chalk line,
my soul escaped, you can see the incline.
The paramedics tried with all their might,
I was so dead, couldn't put up a fight.
Singing bye-bye Mr. Poet Guy,
paramedics tried, but with tears in eye.
They drove me hearse to the levy,
blood drained out and body was dry,
singing this will be the day that he die.
Thousands of people came from every state,
please don't mourn, just celebrate.
They never did find the man in question,
millions of people, now in depression.
Maybe he works for the C.I.A,
if he's caught, what would he say.
Listen Judge, does it really matter,
he deserved that brain splatter.
Singing bye-bye Mr. Poet Guy,
paramedics tried, but with tears in eye,
singing this will be the day that he die.
jza aguilar Jan 2018
will it be a hi or bye?
boy you dont have to try,
you always make me high,
but little did you know you also make me cry.

will it be a hi or bye?
i always end up with why.
you sound so sweet when you lie,
don’t you know im about to die?

will it be a hi or bye?
for million reasons i cant rectify.
when this heart can’t even defy,
every heartache that came by.

will it be a hi or bye?
you once told me im a butterfly,
but will i still be able to fly,
when my love has ran out of supply?

will it be a hi or bye?
tears on my cheeks will soon run dry.
’cause i know i gave everything for you to satisfy,
but you’re not just type of guy.
Dev A Jun 2013
Saying Good-bye Part II
To MS:

3 ½ years.
How is it possible to love someone this way in that amount of time?
You’re one of my best friends.
Through the fights,
Guy drama,
And everything else.
It’s time to say good-bye.
It’s not easy,
But here it goes.
I love you
3 ½ years is not enough!
Dancing in the rain
Staying up all night long
Just hanging out.
What more can I say?
Our replationship revolved around just a few things:
Laughter
Sugar
Girl talk
Books
Movies
And most importantly
Never giving up on one another!
I don’t know how I’ll get through
But it’s time to say good-bye
After all this time.
We’ve stalled and stalled
But now it’s time,
Time to say good-bye.
So here it goes:

I love you!
(You’ll always be my “twin sister”
And of course my “lover” and “wife”)
I’ll miss you more than you’ll ever know.
Good-bye!!!!
Valerie Csorba Feb 2014
A silent voice speaks out to portray the loudest words of unfaithfulness, listening with your eyes to the echoes that bounce off of the walls and wander as agony plays it's favorite harmony in your head requesting the simplest iota of pain to make you live in shear insanity. Breathe quietly or the next sharp breath you take will be in vain for you will then fear your lungs are collapsing. The next throb of your heart will be the shattering of the glass ***** so strong and yet so frail. Your emotions will drain through your tears and screams as you ache to feel whole again. Until you've reached the point where all seems silent inside of you but you know your gears are still turning like those of a broken robot. You ache to quiet them for good so you take the barrel and make it roll. A loud, skull cracking noise clutters the air as your gears become blocked enough to cease and cause you to fall into a disintegrating mess. Bye, bye beautiful...
Julie Grenness Dec 2015
Take nothing for granted, little kids,
It was library day for our kids,
Lateral epic lit. for the kids,
(The kids' librarian was off her ****),
Reading new wave kids' lit.,
Such as "Paddington was ******",
Then there was a new book for tots,
Titled "RIP Spot",
And an epic for libraries to fill,
Called, "Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill."....

Now it's story time for tots,
Here's our new one, "RIP Spot',
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
RIP Spot, the street dog,
We dehydrated Spot,
(Life the *****, there's the chaps),
Froth, Spot, Froth,
Yes, read along, tots,

Read along, little tots,
We all starved Spot,
He was a street dog,
(Lift the *****, there's good chaps),
Rot, Spot, Rot,
Now we can count his ribs, dear little kids,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Happy maggots, Spot,
Spot is mort, poor Spot,
He was a street dog,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Mort, Spot, Mort,
Now Spot's on his way to Heaven,
His ribs were more than seven,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Have some flies, Spot,
Rot, Spot, rot,
They opened up the Pearly Gates,
Poor Spot wasn't too late,
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Look at Spot's halo,
There's two more books to go,
Spot has sent us a card down here,
"F.U., Society, you didn't care,"
(Lift the *****, there's the chaps),
Rot, Spot, Rot,
You were a street dog,

Ooh, are you all sad?
Two more books in this bag,
Here's "Paddington was ******",
(The kids' librarian is off her ****),
We'll all read along  now, kids,
Paddington was ******,
The tots were, by now, totally miffed,
He was their childhood hero,
Now a drunken old dero,
Rolling around in the gutter,
An alcoholic ******,
Society didn't care,
He was only a homeless bear,
Now the tots are totally miffed,
Paddington was ******....

Now, here's our last epic book,
This one's worth a look,
"Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill,
His mother forgot the pill,
Perched on a tree up the hill,
Blinky Bill ran under a bus,
****** on Eucalyptus,
His mother forgot the pill,
So, Bye, Bye, Blinky Bill.

We took nothing for granted, let's say,
Kids' librarian got the sack that day!
I was in the library one day.... then I saw a street dog in the shopping centre, no one cared....Feedback welcome.
Life's a Beach Feb 2016
Go **** Yourself,
because I never will again.

Remember when I did though.
Remember all of it.
Remember my mouth, and how
good I am down south.

I hope you remember how
good it felt to
sexually assault me
Because for you
I will remain your Frustrated
Wankstain of a memory
I will remain a dream
you stole on borrowed time.

Because you definitely didn't deserve mine, or
me.
I currently feel So ******* Free

Truth is:
We accept the love we think we deserve
and you were ******* greedy

and I am ****** glorious
So, from now on, I'm gonna go ahead and use my love
on those who deserve it; including myself.
Fuckity-Bye, you abusive, manipulative, selfish arsewipe.
Have fun ******* yourself,
knowing that I did it better.
:) :) :)
Incredible moment of realisation today, bought on by my ex throwing a tantrum that was obviously aiming to make me feel upset. His cruelty made me ridiculously happy, because I've realised that he lost me. He did **** this up. I was accused of not loving him enough, but I did love him enough, he just constantly wanted more.
Hidden Secrets Apr 2015
I didnt want to say that last goodbye
I didnt want to let you go just yet
It felt as if I were being cheated
As if you were leaving me too soon
I swear to God I loved you from here to the moon

I didnt want to let you go just yet
God knows I wasnt ready to say goodbye
But the pain began to take away who you really were
You began to hallucenate
You weren't who you used to be
Your time came
And good-bye's were sadly said

As the days go by
There's not a second I dont think of your last moments
The memories come crashing down
Threatening to drown me out
We were gathered around praying,
Singing
And crying
I couldnt stand the fact that everyone was so willing to just say good bye
Cause I wasnt ready
I didnt want to say good bye
I wanted to see what we could do
Explore options
I wanted us to do something other than say good bye
But the time came
And thats what we had to do
Say good-bye
Its bee a few months since my grand father has passed away & there's not a day that I dont think of him. I miss him with all I have in me and I really wished he were still here, but the pain from the cancer was too much, it was too late- and now he's gone :(
Carl Hoek Feb 2016
bye bye valentine
you said i was the puppy that everyone wants to touch
but
i wont let them
you were the one with perfect posture
and it makes us all want it
you were the one with all the "**** me"
in you
and you sacrifice it all for yourself
like a feral dog or cat
him as a self reliant fool
me as the everyone else
my sense of possession
my harmless diseases
themselves apparent in waning gibbous moonlight

the mildly pretty one who says
can i get in there?
of course you can
but here in this empty place
even though you're gorgeous ( everyone forgets about beauty and feeling)
even when your that
you're still that
and there might not have conscious

as she sat next to me everyday
i didn't say a word
not because i was afraid of what she could say
but because i knew what she couldn't say


and to think of the parched mind as supplement to my heart beating
take all you need to drown your to your hearts content
the mildew we sprinkled on pretty days
mold inside the walls threatening to bring the health department in
and shut the place down

insect wings wetted by spit flying from your mouth
from talking too much
we're here up in the big blue silver lining waiting for you to come home
waiting for the hammer to come down

we know each other now
and even our sleepless nights are punctuated by thoughts and dreams of each other
happy v-day
You could break almost everything
Shattering everyone into nothing
Hold your head up so high
While I want to say good-bye

Good-bye to all the painful memories
Good-bye to begging on my knees
I remember everything from broken glass to the flying keys
Good-bye to us

Champagne classes full of empty wishes
Empty seats that my heart misses
Lost dreams between the sheets
A beautiful melody lost in high receipts

Something too close, yet something too far
Not ready to hear you say "Raise the bar"
The heat is too hot
And I can't hear any of my thoughts
Blurred out by the screaming

One last clink of the glass to say
Good-bye to us.
Dameon Smith May 2015
Soft white daisies
Bright yellow sun
How do I tell you
All of this is done?
brooke Jun 2013
bit by bit we begin
to disassemble the
life we have made
here and the material
things leave cushion by
cushion, I always feel
this little ache when
saying
goodbye
to things that provided
a seat, a pillow, a drink
for so long.

bye-bye
says
the little
girl.
(c) Brooke Otto
Just Melz Dec 2014
Rock-a-bye
Rock-a-bye
Baby can't you see?
Momma wants to cry
When you're away from me
I miss your little smile
Your little kisses and laughs
Momma's been sad for awhile
Ever since you left my arms last

Rock-a-bye
Rock-a-bye
Baby can't you hear?
Momma just wants to hold you
Forever keep you near
All the winter nights through
I miss your all your tiny little toes
How you're so ticklish everywhere
Momma cries when you leave, everyone knows
Just how much I really care

Rock-a-bye
Rock-a-bye
Baby don't you know,
Momma is lost without you*
Oh! How I miss you so!
Momma just doesn't know what to do
I miss you so much
I know it's hard, please stay tough
My precious little Angel
Momma can't hold you soon enough
But when I do, I'll be eternally grateful


I Love You Baby Boy
My ex is keeping my kids away from me for too long sometimes and I just miss them so much, especially my little baby boy, he' ll be two next week.
Arija E Mar 2013
we didn't make a baby
i didn't have to **** a baby
but we still have a baby
because you are a baby
for you left me to be the adult, baby

while you just went merrily on your way
like children do
and ours never will
because you are a baby
who left me to be the adult, baby

bye bye baby
Miss Clofullia Sep 2015
I am the member of a one-man extremist army
That fights for the right to be (mis)understood.
I keep my gun tidy and all covered in a
crazy-*** knitted scarf.
I only shoot it when I’m alone in my head.
I always miss.

I fly below the human emotion radar and
Pray that someone will DVR my life
And binge watch it from the comfort of his/her dusty old couch,
Up in the attic, when nothing else is on TV and
Jimmy Fallon’s all tucked in his zebra pajamas.

I will climb the highest fountain
And whisper waterly in your transplanted ear:
“I am Vincent.. I am your yellow.. I am your ubiquitous sunflower..”

Just change the channel and the weather will do the same thing.
Bye bye bye, birdie! Bye bye bye, climate change!
I’m nothing but an echo’s echo.
Soulace Apr 2017
I hate airports.
I hate the vibrant colours, the staff who work happily, even through the mass of sadness that countless others are experiencing around them.
I hate the food, which is good, but sometimes, the bitterness of leaving sinks to the taste.
But most of all, i hate the the idea of parting, the idea of saying goodbye.
No matter how near or how far I may go, just knowing that I’ll be away from your grasp is painful enough.
I hate waking up on that day. The surrealness of it. To know that in a mere 24 hours, this won’t be home anymore. My last day on that bed. My last day with those people. My last day on that ground. My last day breathing this air, until well… god knows when.
I hate seeing you. I love you so much, but seeing your dead eyes, and seeing how your inner pain is so great that it’s affecting you physically, affects me too. I hate seeing you struggle to be strong, even though the pain is evident.
I hate hearing the plans for our trip.
The bags and boxes that served as my storage unit and dumping grounds, all neatly packed up, just like the day we landed. The only tie I have to the place that serves as my “home”. Really, “home” to me is a home away from my real home.
I hate the feeling of guilt, knowing YOU are the one who’s leaving a hole behind. That though it’s hard, it’s always being left behind that hurts more.
The voices and extra noise that I made. The late night guitar playing or the early morning screaming. In 24 hours, gone.
All of it parts on a metal tube in the sky. Planes….
I hate that "back to normal" feeling, that lack of presence that we leave behind. I hurt them, even though I don’t want to.
Then there’s the ride going to the airport
Please, come with me. I need you here. Just a few more minutes. Just another second. Anything.
Every little inch closer to the airport, I have to look out the window, act like I can’t see your eyes through the reflection. Act like I don’t know what you want to say. Act like I’m just giving this place “one final look”. Holding back the tears.
Mess up my ticket. Burn the plane. Pop the tires. I don’t want to go.
I wish I didn’t know these streets, but I do. I know the ride. I know the locations. I can tell we’re getting closer.
I know you don’t want to be here. But please stay with me.
I want to know how much time we have together until I have to leave.
i can already imagine, during that ride back...
The black stain of absence that I left. The emptiness of everything, and the pain you’re facing.
I wonder why you seem like you can barely move. Like you’re wearing shoes made of -
Oh.
It’s the weight.
I’m sorry.
I look back at the spot on the bed that I used to take up.
I hate taking these photographs.
The smiles I give are always fake, and I know yours is too. We pretend, because at the end of the day, there is no happy family. Not today. Not while we have to separate.
Please don't capture this moment.
Please give me a hug.
Don’t let go. A part of me prays something inside you goes berserk, like in those supernatural movies
That maybe you’re keeping some sort of secret power or trump card that you’re waiting to use.
That maybe you might grow wings and take me away from here so we miss the flight.
That maybe you just whisper “run” and for some strange reason, we just run away, buying even just a few moments. A few fleeting moments.
It'll be awhile before i get another one of your hugs, so please, hold me like it’s your last because god forbid if I die on that plane I’ll never get to hug you again so please.
Even though you’ll feel empty after, please. It’s so selfish but god, do it for me.
Thing is, I know deep in my heart I’m not the only one feeling this sadness
Right and left there are goodbyes
There are couples who are a few goodbyes away from a long distance relationship
There is a kid who is clinging to her dad's leg telling me to stay or take her along because he's working abroad
There are people sharing words to family members who live far away
There's so many people feeling the same, but... it doesn’t take away from the pain.
“Have a safe trip!”
I want to die.
“Call us when you’re home!”
I am home.
“Don’t cry”
You’re lucky you can’t see into my soul, because I’m not crying. I'm bleeding.
“Come back soon!”
I don’t need to leave.
“Bye”
I don’t want to go
"Bye"
Don’t push me away
"Bye"
Why did you make me leave this place.
"Bye"
I don’t want to go…

bye.

I hate airports

— The End —