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"cartoons" poems
There are some things I want to say to you. First off I will never ever make our child think less of you, no matter how your role in their life plays out. I will always tell them that their father is an amazing man. Ambitious, hard working, driven by his passions. I'll look at them with tears in my eyes as I rock them to sleep telling them all the reasons I love you. I will always make sure that our child doesn't feel abandoned. I understand I am a single mother. I have to rely on myself to raise this child and that's okay. Please know that while I may be some backwards farm town girl who runs around barefoot eating with my fingers I will be an amazing mother. One who will not be afraid to get messy. One who will pretend to be every super hero, cartoons character and farm animal there is. I will try my best to always make our child smile, but there will be days when I can't and I hope that when that day comes I'm strong enough to help hold some of their worries on my shoulders. You see this child may be unplanned for however even as just a small raspberry in my stomach I refuse to ever think of this child as unwanted or unloved. My entire life revolves around what is best for my child now. That's okay. So please just know. We will be alright. We will survive. We will always accept you into our lives.
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Dear father of my unborn child.
Many times I get asked what anime is. I wear anime t-shirts, I watch it with glee, I fantasize about it and have conversations about it as well. I go to conventions, I discuss it with my friends nitpicking at strong foes, and I even supported toonami coming back. Yet this question of what anime is always makes me pause. What is anime? I always think about it and I am always unsure of it. It's almost like theaters and movies, anime has many genres such as drama, romance, and even tragedy. Yet sometimes people argue that anime is nothing more than a cartoon. I could say that cartoons are only meant for kids but anime includes that as well. I could say anime has different art styles, but the same could be said for cartoons as well. I could say anime is more Japanese oriented but anime has no limitations. People question it however the same could be said of theater. Why do people love tragedy? Why do people wish to see a girl die from cancer? Why do people wish to see a couple being put through a lot? Why do people enjoy death? Anime has many genres like theater, anime has death, tragedy, and yes even **** Do not judge anime by it's differences, do not say it's simply a cartoon. Because to some people it is their theater, their muse, their life, and their dreams and inspirations.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
Anime
Sitting here, alone at home wondering what i am going to do with my life... unemployed... watching cartoons to pass the time free my mind of the stresses but they never go away unemployed hoping for that call that email, even a text message that says I am good enough, I am worthy to not be unemployed searching the internet all day long hoping someone will hear this song unemployed bored, boredom, boring unemployed nothing to talk about because nothing happens unemployed maybe i will change myself change my heart, change my mind i am so sick of being unemployed but maybe maybe instead of indeed.com i will try okcupid.com maybe someone some special lady out there will not want to leave me so unemployed but who knows because i keep chasing the same dead ends unemployed
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Unemployed
: 'Its Holiday season' Here are lists of things you need teach your child at early age. . 1: Warn your girl child never to sit on anyone's laps no matter the situation including uncles. . 2: Avoid getting dressed in front of your child once ***** is 2years old. Learn to excuse yourself. . 3: If you have to hire a house-help, please kindly take them for *** screening to determine their *** status, properly interview them and make up your mind to treat them well. . 4: Never allow any adult refer to your new born as 'my wife' or 'my husband'. . 5: Never tempt your husband with your younger sister. (Else he'd say its her's and the devil's fault) . 6: Whenever your child goes out to play with friends, make sure you look for a way to find out what kind of play they played together because young people now sexually abuse themselves. . 7: Never force your child to visit any adult he or she is not comfortable with and also be observant if your child becomes too fond of a particular adult. . 8: Once a very lively child suddenly becomes withdrawn you might need to patiently ask alot of questions from your child. If you don't teach your children about *** the society will teach them the wrong values. . 9: It is always advisable you go through any new Material like cartoons you just bought for them before they start seeing it, you may Blue Movie themselves. . 10: Teach your 3 year old how to wash their private parts properly and warn them never to allow anyone touch those areas and that includes you (remember, charity begins at home and with you) 11: Once your child complains about a particular person, don't keep quiet about it Take up the case and show them you can defend them always. . Then make sure they embraces God. The bible said 'Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
*** EDUCATION FOR YOUR CHILDREN
: 'Its Holiday season' Here are lists of things you need teach your child at early age. . 1: Warn your girl child never to sit on anyone's laps no matter the situation including uncles. . 2: Avoid getting dressed in front of your child once ***** is 2years old. Learn to excuse yourself. . 3: If you have to hire a house-help, please kindly take them for *** screening to determine their *** status, properly interview them and make up your mind to treat them well. . 4: Never allow any adult refer to your new born as 'my wife' or 'my husband'. . 5: Never tempt your husband with your younger sister. (Else he'd say its her's and the devil's fault) . 6: Whenever your child goes out to play with friends, make sure you look for a way to find out what kind of play they played together because young people now sexually abuse themselves. . 7: Never force your child to visit any adult he or she is not comfortable with and also be observant if your child becomes too fond of a particular adult. . 8: Once a very lively child suddenly becomes withdrawn you might need to patiently ask alot of questions from your child. If you don't teach your children about *** the society will teach them the wrong values. . 9: It is always advisable you go through any new Material like cartoons you just bought for them before they start seeing it, you may Blue Movie themselves. . 10: Teach your 3 year old how to wash their private parts properly and warn them never to allow anyone touch those areas and that includes you (remember, charity begins at home and with you) 11: Once your child complains about a particular person, don't keep quiet about it Take up the case and show them you can defend them always. . Then make sure they embraces God. The bible said 'Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.
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61
Jealousy used to be a girl with puppy eyes and braided hair. She lurks around the dark side of the room Waiting for someone to notice but they kept on denying her existence. Jealous? No. That’s all she could hear. ‘Til she grew bigger. She now has longer nails, no... claws. Her messy curls showed up after taking off her braids. Longer limbs and shorter temper. She screams loud. By the back of her head, she wanted to be noticed. She crawled around the whole room. Asking for attention. And I noticed her. So is the name she whispers in my ear. The sound is not loud now, but deafening. It didn’t have sharp edges, but it cut me through. That, did not made me bleed and cry. It did not make me weak, or so I thought. But made me furious. She’s slowly reaching out for my hand. I had doubts but, I reached back to her. She stood, emotionless, while I unconsciously threw a plate across the room. I cried. But not in agony. In anger. For sure. I can feel flames rushing through my veins like a waterfall. Jealousy is like a monster under the empty bed for so long that it learned how to dream. Jealousy is like termites, slowly chewing off the walls where I used to carve our names with a small blade, I used to use to cut myself. Jealousy is a box of “What If’s” A box full of surprises and one of them... called, “assumptions” Assumptions you thought were visions of the negative things. Negative things you’re scared to happen. Or even to think about. Jealousy thought your fear how to grow bigger. They’re friends now. And every walk she makes, Jealousy brought along Fear. They try to pay you visits in your room, that you seem to stay a lot in now. This is the room where I used to watch cartoons and once fell from the rope you tied on the ceiling. It wasn’t that strong. The rope, the ceiling, and me. It used to be just short visits, now they got themselves their own sofa bed lying next to your queen-sized mattress. But I wanted them to leave. As I see him packing his bags and opening the bathroom door to get his toothbrush. I wanted them to leave. But Jealousy invited a guest. Jealousy invited Pride. He left//
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Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
*Jealousy*
Jealousy used to be a girl with puppy eyes and braided hair. She lurks around the dark side of the room Waiting for someone to notice but they kept on denying her existence. Jealous? No. That’s all she could hear. ‘Til she grew bigger. She now has longer nails, no... claws. Her messy curls showed up after taking off her braids. Longer limbs and shorter temper. She screams loud. By the back of her head, she wanted to be noticed. She crawled around the whole room. Asking for attention. And I noticed her. So is the name she whispers in my ear. The sound is not loud now, but deafening. It didn’t have sharp edges, but it cut me through. That, did not made me bleed and cry. It did not make me weak, or so I thought. But made me furious. She’s slowly reaching out for my hand. I had doubts but, I reached back to her. She stood, emotionless, while I unconsciously threw a plate across the room. I cried. But not in agony. In anger. For sure. I can feel flames rushing through my veins like a waterfall. Jealousy is like a monster under the empty bed for so long that it learned how to dream. Jealousy is like termites, slowly chewing off the walls where I used to carve our names with a small blade, I used to use to cut myself. Jealousy is a box of “What If’s” A box full of surprises and one of them... called, “assumptions” Assumptions you thought were visions of the negative things. Negative things you’re scared to happen. Or even to think about. Jealousy thought your fear how to grow bigger. They’re friends now. And every walk she makes, Jealousy brought along Fear. They try to pay you visits in your room, that you seem to stay a lot in now. This is the room where I used to watch cartoons and once fell from the rope you tied on the ceiling. It wasn’t that strong. The rope, the ceiling, and me. It used to be just short visits, now they got themselves their own sofa bed lying next to your queen-sized mattress. But I wanted them to leave. As I see him packing his bags and opening the bathroom door to get his toothbrush. I wanted them to leave. But Jealousy invited a guest. Jealousy invited Pride. He left//
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32
Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings These are a few of my favorite things. Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes Sly double entendres and tickley teases Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop! Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons These are some of my nurturing tunes! Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising I love my collections of adhesives and strings These are a few of my favorite things! So when the wasps sting When the bored people whine Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad I just think of a few of my favorite things And I don't feel…so…bad!
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
My Favorite Things
I am a nerd: * DnD * Harry Potter * Lord of the Rings * WoW * Anime * Reading * Video Games * Comic book heroes * Science * Math * Hunger games * Steampunk * Disney!!! * Futurama * Star Wars * Doctor Who * Breaking Bad * Archer * 90's Cartoons * Invader Zim I am a Metal head \m/ * Nightwish * Sabaton * Ozzy Osbourne * Iron Maiden * Epica * Van Canto * Dealian * Hammerfall * DragonForce I love my life: * My love * My family * My Job as a preschool teacher * having fun This is who I am and I don't care if any one thinks of me!
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
A little bit about me!
i am worn books and french vocabulary, ice cold chai and steaming earl grey. i am stone stares and eyes watering, uncertainty in silence and sharp decisive conversation. i am shaking hands and reciting poetry during anxiety attacks and i am indie rock showers and top-of-your-lungs pop radio in the car. i am empathy without sympathy, crying in the bathroom stall and i am childhood cartoons and your favorite stuffed animal and the beach in the summer. i am desperate to be alone and desperate to scream and desperate to find someone who knows what i mean and still likes me. i am comfort zone constellations, Orion's belt on every nighttime stroll, i am the hollow tree in the backyard of the house we don't own and i am my handwriting and the words in my poems. i am everything you have made me out to be and i hate that; hate that you see all my flaws so clearly but that isn't all of me and i know that now. i am the trinkets my grandmother left me and her eyes when she looked at me and the way she cried when she read my poetry. i am a thousand ways i have loved those dear to me and the children who fall asleep on me and the way my cat runs to me and i don't need your or anyone's approval but God's and my own. thanks anyway.
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Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
self-discovery, or delusion?
Mirrors are all traitors As in them I can see Just what a monster I am; That I will always be. I have lumps and and spots That make me unloveable. And everything I eat is Another bite of trouble. Why can’t I ever look Like the models in the book? Why is it that I Can’t look myself in the eye? No one will look longingly At the gorgon I turned out to be. I don’t watch cartoons Because what I see is me What did I do to deserve To become so **** ugly? Did I cross the path of a cat That was an omen meant to warn And I ignored it so now I inherited this awful form? Why can’t I be the kind With a beautifully formed behind? I wish it was my history To stimulate evil jealousy. I want to look like a dream, But instead I must surrender A fragile wish, as it seems An unfilled hope altogether. Some friends are sweet to me They say I look fine to them, But I know what I can see And I deserve no diadem.
0
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 11:06 PM UTC
BODY DYSMORPHIA
Supposedly too much television will rot your brain away BUT... you can 't believe what everyone may say KERMIT told us it ain't easy being green TAYLOR SWIFT taught us people can be trouble & really mean SEBASTIAN the CRAB told us it is better down where it is wetter CINDERELLA taught us that eventually things will get better SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS told us over & over he's READY! he's READY! THE TORTOISE taught us that being quick may not always work KAYNE WEST taught us people are rude, interrupting, annoying & huge jerks MR KRABS taught us some people are money hungry & greedy LINDSAY LOHAN taught us some people are attention needy DORA THE EXPLORER taught us to live our life as an adventure & go explore SWIPER taught us to always go for more SQUIDWARD taught us not everyone has happiness to share PATRICK STAR taught us that some people's heads are filled with air PLANKTON taught us that you can never give up on reaching your goal ALICE's curiosity taught us don't chase white rabbits with pocket watches down their hole PETER PAN taught us to live carefree & have no worries at all HORTON taught us that a person is a person no matter how small THE LORAX taught us to take care of our trees SNOW WHITE taught us that there maybe more than what the eye sees TOMMY PICKLES taught us sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do THE GRINCH taught us that deep down inside, the cruel have hearts too NEMO'S DAD MARLIN taught us you can't protect people from all & or any danger BARNEY taught us not to talk to a stranger TIMONE & PUMBA taught us "HAKUNA MATATA" LILO & STITCH taught us no one gets left behind or forgotten, that is "OHANA" SOUTH PARK taught us not to give a **** & some friends can be a huge ****** BAG JUSTIN BIEBER taught us what isn't "SWAG" STEWIE taught us that even if you're talking not everyone is listening NELLY taught us that not everywhere has air conditioning "HOT IN HERRE" DOROTHY taught us is you want to go home just click your heels three times & repeat "THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME" SOUTH PARK'S TWEAK taught us that your underwear get stolen by the underwear gnomes So much we've unknowingly managed to obtain secretly stored in our brain celebrities, songs, shows & even cartoons have taught us a lot & that's what life lessons are all about little hidden lessons & messages everywhere & completely unaware you pass it on & share
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
Consciously Unaware, Taught Subconsciously..
Supposedly too much television will rot your brain away BUT... you can 't believe what everyone may say KERMIT told us it ain't easy being green TAYLOR SWIFT taught us people can be trouble & really mean SEBASTIAN the CRAB told us it is better down where it is wetter CINDERELLA taught us that eventually things will get better SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS told us over & over he's READY! he's READY! THE TORTOISE taught us that being quick may not always work KAYNE WEST taught us people are rude, interrupting, annoying & huge jerks MR KRABS taught us some people are money hungry & greedy LINDSAY LOHAN taught us some people are attention needy DORA THE EXPLORER taught us to live our life as an adventure & go explore SWIPER taught us to always go for more SQUIDWARD taught us not everyone has happiness to share PATRICK STAR taught us that some people's heads are filled with air PLANKTON taught us that you can never give up on reaching your goal ALICE's curiosity taught us don't chase white rabbits with pocket watches down their hole PETER PAN taught us to live carefree & have no worries at all HORTON taught us that a person is a person no matter how small THE LORAX taught us to take care of our trees SNOW WHITE taught us that there maybe more than what the eye sees TOMMY PICKLES taught us sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do THE GRINCH taught us that deep down inside, the cruel have hearts too NEMO'S DAD MARLIN taught us you can't protect people from all & or any danger BARNEY taught us not to talk to a stranger TIMONE & PUMBA taught us "HAKUNA MATATA" LILO & STITCH taught us no one gets left behind or forgotten, that is "OHANA" SOUTH PARK taught us not to give a **** & some friends can be a huge ****** BAG JUSTIN BIEBER taught us what isn't "SWAG" STEWIE taught us that even if you're talking not everyone is listening NELLY taught us that not everywhere has air conditioning "HOT IN HERRE" DOROTHY taught us is you want to go home just click your heels three times & repeat "THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME" SOUTH PARK'S TWEAK taught us that your underwear get stolen by the underwear gnomes So much we've unknowingly managed to obtain secretly stored in our brain celebrities, songs, shows & even cartoons have taught us a lot & that's what life lessons are all about little hidden lessons & messages everywhere & completely unaware you pass it on & share
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39
It was hard to miss Jerry in the corner holding court over the bran muffin. Flurries of judgement and wisdom flying across coffee dappled pages as he sentenced a large cup of Paruvian Dark Roast to be ****** 7 am Dan never flinched steeling his tenured chair at a spot one section of stir sticks away calculably just out of reach of the regularly scheduled tantrum. An auburn-haired newbie fanes camoflage peeking over two pages of Obituaries she never intended to read. Her raised and nearly detached eyebrows hover above the dateline like a magic trick. And on every table fall scattered leaves of press print trees unsorted and littered with intent by careless absorbers of trivia. Disconnected ear-budded footnotes of humanity see nothing hear nothing using the disarrayed World News as enormous coasters unmoved by hyper-ventilating compulsives pushing panic buttons through desperate quests to uncover one alphabetically organized set of local news. Of the papers not strewn the remnant holds anxious on a distant wall a throng of flopping rabbit-eared step children dangling precariously from unaccomodating magazine racks like smoky orphans from windows in a fiery building. Disordered. Disrespected. Discarded...words are Jews in the holocaust. Death of a voice. We are irreverent in our silence diminishing genius through apathy put off by the imposition to be challenged choosing disposable principles above responsible knowledge. Everything is disposable - cameras, cars, relationships, loyalty, babies...and wisdom - crumpling Pulitzer prize authors and discarding WW2 veterans just to get to the cartoons.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Daily News and Disrespect
It was hard to miss Jerry in the corner holding court over the bran muffin. Flurries of judgement and wisdom flying across coffee dappled pages as he sentenced a large cup of Paruvian Dark Roast to be ****** 7 am Dan never flinched steeling his tenured chair at a spot one section of stir sticks away calculably just out of reach of the regularly scheduled tantrum. An auburn-haired newbie fanes camoflage peeking over two pages of Obituaries she never intended to read. Her raised and nearly detached eyebrows hover above the dateline like a magic trick. And on every table fall scattered leaves of press print trees unsorted and littered with intent by careless absorbers of trivia. Disconnected ear-budded footnotes of humanity see nothing hear nothing using the disarrayed World News as enormous coasters unmoved by hyper-ventilating compulsives pushing panic buttons through desperate quests to uncover one alphabetically organized set of local news. Of the papers not strewn the remnant holds anxious on a distant wall a throng of flopping rabbit-eared step children dangling precariously from unaccomodating magazine racks like smoky orphans from windows in a fiery building. Disordered. Disrespected. Discarded...words are Jews in the holocaust. Death of a voice. We are irreverent in our silence diminishing genius through apathy put off by the imposition to be challenged choosing disposable principles above responsible knowledge. Everything is disposable - cameras, cars, relationships, loyalty, babies...and wisdom - crumpling Pulitzer prize authors and discarding WW2 veterans just to get to the cartoons.
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62
I have a heart made to adore juvenile fantasies, despite modern tragedies. In moments of madness when modern photography presents to me the horrors of humanity I can engage for a minute and escape the insanity in the comics that carry super hero forms. When I see bombs that blister skin till flesh bursts revealing red disfigurement I can travel in my own mental compartment to escape this. I can revisit Winnie the pooh or review the crew of “Star Trek The Next Generation.” When mind numbing poverty rears its sad faces at me, with stranger’s eyes and thin lips quivering in lonely desperation, despite my empathy I have a gift for escaping the irrationality of human suffering. I just sip the soft brew of nostalgia for old cartoons recalling a slightly saner time, when all the sorrows were only mine, when I ached with a mother’s fury but tv shows saw me distracted the fact is I have been escaping my whole life, and I don’t see that changing.
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Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
Untitled 12
I don't think in going against anyone all I want is to be happy. I've found love in doing things even though others hate on me or judge. I haven't been writing but it kept calling me to do so! I think about how I stick my neck our and get ******* over but that's got to change. I don't hang out with many ppl but the ones who are their for me I truly appreciate. I BBQ'd on Friday ppl like the grub so that made my day, I practiced with my cousin I help her get better with get softball skills. We could play all day but she got tired it was a change of pace. I enjoyed wrestlemania my cousin and I had fun bonding with one another. We watched classic cartoons from our childhood. Life's good I'm avoiding the ppl who **** me off and don't do anything for me and have the nerve to be judging me. I'm enjoying classic music I got myself a chuck berry album. I want to get ray Charles next! I watch YouTube videos for music
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Fun
My hands fidget. I will tell you when I see you that my fingers could break when I speak, loose from the chicken wire houses that pin them to nail holes no one sees and my words could snap with them, straight down their spines. My hands fidget and my tongue trips. One day I won’t be allowed to see your eyes, your eyes when the sun hits them and they turn green, your eyes when they're blue, when you're being real. Or both. The sun is in your eyes and it's setting. I think I could be the moon, we could meet at every eclipse, create our own lightshow in the sky or make them notice us just for five minutes, the kids sat on steps behind the sports centre, I will tell you when I see you that you are so ******* smart you could ruin the world with it, so why can’t I tell you this, so why can’t my hands stay still? I want to feel the way my mouth tingles when we sit, you murmuring in my ear that you could spend all day here, alone with the indents of each other's lips. I guess if we ruined the world I wouldn't even feel Numb, the Nirvana song. My hands fidget. Recently I stuck a sticker over my fear of death to try and be as brave as you and now I am Nevermind, I can't feel a thing. My tongue sits still when I try to speak about thinking and when I think of losing you I see Topcat, Pink Panther and this time my mind trips over itself. I chew my lips and the corners of my mouth close. I can’t see in the dark like I can’t breathe when I see cartoons like I can’t see **** when you say we need to talk like I’m scared of the ******* dark so please walk me home. You find my hair bobbles at your house and I'm sorry that that last one wasn’t a metaphor. I imagine the space behind your closed eyelids looks like a dark place at 3am where you exhale smoke. I imagine the space behind mine is inhaling, coughing and static in the form of a thousand headlights blinking and it burns. My hands fidget. You call me out and it sounds like my brain not being able to hold itself still, I can't, I can't stop fidgeting under those blue-green eyes. When you tell me you love me my fingers stay still. When I think it's loud like nerve endings screaming at me ******* react like controlling hands, interconnecting veins jumping from wrists, hazy. The stuff of nightmares where you say I don’t trust you but I know that your hands on my wrists would not, do not, burn like that. I will tell you when I see you I will not wrap you in chicken wire. I am writing to tell you that when you speak my hands stay still. I am trying to say that nothing snaps and my head is quiet.
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 6:27 AM UTC
My hands fidget like 11 metaphors on lined paper.
My hands fidget. I will tell you when I see you that my fingers could break when I speak, loose from the chicken wire houses that pin them to nail holes no one sees and my words could snap with them, straight down their spines. My hands fidget and my tongue trips. One day I won’t be allowed to see your eyes, your eyes when the sun hits them and they turn green, your eyes when they're blue, when you're being real. Or both. The sun is in your eyes and it's setting. I think I could be the moon, we could meet at every eclipse, create our own lightshow in the sky or make them notice us just for five minutes, the kids sat on steps behind the sports centre, I will tell you when I see you that you are so ******* smart you could ruin the world with it, so why can’t I tell you this, so why can’t my hands stay still? I want to feel the way my mouth tingles when we sit, you murmuring in my ear that you could spend all day here, alone with the indents of each other's lips. I guess if we ruined the world I wouldn't even feel Numb, the Nirvana song. My hands fidget. Recently I stuck a sticker over my fear of death to try and be as brave as you and now I am Nevermind, I can't feel a thing. My tongue sits still when I try to speak about thinking and when I think of losing you I see Topcat, Pink Panther and this time my mind trips over itself. I chew my lips and the corners of my mouth close. I can’t see in the dark like I can’t breathe when I see cartoons like I can’t see **** when you say we need to talk like I’m scared of the ******* dark so please walk me home. You find my hair bobbles at your house and I'm sorry that that last one wasn’t a metaphor. I imagine the space behind your closed eyelids looks like a dark place at 3am where you exhale smoke. I imagine the space behind mine is inhaling, coughing and static in the form of a thousand headlights blinking and it burns. My hands fidget. You call me out and it sounds like my brain not being able to hold itself still, I can't, I can't stop fidgeting under those blue-green eyes. When you tell me you love me my fingers stay still. When I think it's loud like nerve endings screaming at me ******* react like controlling hands, interconnecting veins jumping from wrists, hazy. The stuff of nightmares where you say I don’t trust you but I know that your hands on my wrists would not, do not, burn like that. I will tell you when I see you I will not wrap you in chicken wire. I am writing to tell you that when you speak my hands stay still. I am trying to say that nothing snaps and my head is quiet.
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45
Grandmother Willow said listen to your heart, you will understand but when it pounds all I want to do is run my heart says so many things one minute it's telling me to climb a tree as high as the branches let me the next it says hook line and sinker and when I'm with someone beautiful, it says nothing, it just flutters and pitter patters Mulan was always my favourite because she had her heart broken and still She Saved China all on her own my heart breaks like twigs and crumbles like dry stiff leaves in Autumn and my heart is also a rubber ball that bounces from one place to the next too rapidly, I forget where I am and where I just was a moment before I ended up wherever I ended up my heart is like ice and sometimes if you are the right temperature, it will melt for you my heart is aware of fallacy and sometimes if you try to coax it, everything I ever felt for you won't exist anymore a few months ago I was sitting at the back of a midnight bus in my hometown, with a hippie headband on, accompanied with braids, a long dress and moccasins of black suede when a drunk teenager pointed and hollered directly at my face, "you look like Pocahontas, how many John Smiths love you?" I don't get angry anymore I just get tired my heart goes to sleep for days and wakes up at the sudden gong of recognition in eye contact that lasts longer than just a few seconds; my heart awakens at sunsets, when I am sitting in a tree alone and it awakens each time I successfully skip a stone I've always thought highly of the two disney cartoons and it's not just because they can fire a harpoon it's something like embodying the female self-assurance, strength of the soul, embracing solitude like wind on a stroll heart strong from a softening, heart loved from singing just for singing heart open like eye contact that lasts longer than just a few seconds
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
pocahontas & mulan
Grandmother Willow said listen to your heart, you will understand but when it pounds all I want to do is run my heart says so many things one minute it's telling me to climb a tree as high as the branches let me the next it says hook line and sinker and when I'm with someone beautiful, it says nothing, it just flutters and pitter patters Mulan was always my favourite because she had her heart broken and still She Saved China all on her own my heart breaks like twigs and crumbles like dry stiff leaves in Autumn and my heart is also a rubber ball that bounces from one place to the next too rapidly, I forget where I am and where I just was a moment before I ended up wherever I ended up my heart is like ice and sometimes if you are the right temperature, it will melt for you my heart is aware of fallacy and sometimes if you try to coax it, everything I ever felt for you won't exist anymore a few months ago I was sitting at the back of a midnight bus in my hometown, with a hippie headband on, accompanied with braids, a long dress and moccasins of black suede when a drunk teenager pointed and hollered directly at my face, "you look like Pocahontas, how many John Smiths love you?" I don't get angry anymore I just get tired my heart goes to sleep for days and wakes up at the sudden gong of recognition in eye contact that lasts longer than just a few seconds; my heart awakens at sunsets, when I am sitting in a tree alone and it awakens each time I successfully skip a stone I've always thought highly of the two disney cartoons and it's not just because they can fire a harpoon it's something like embodying the female self-assurance, strength of the soul, embracing solitude like wind on a stroll heart strong from a softening, heart loved from singing just for singing heart open like eye contact that lasts longer than just a few seconds
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Ttthee fiirstttt timmee i was alone with le tele i got excited as a kid of 8 i knew tv was fun my dad went to work early morning time i grabbed up my favorite blanky and sat down in its presence the icy cold remote in my handddddddddddddddddddddddddd, blood guts and big ***** tv knows about everything STD results and Wars on Terror my favorite cartoons McDonalds has a new sandwich i am not the father Lindsay's back in jail stage collapse smushes ***** couple scientists report, transfat is a-okay President's schtupping an intern moonbase has a ******* epidemic i think i want to grow up to be a juicehead 45 dead in pakistani drone strike i figure, they'll just re-spawn or I'll wish them back when I collect the dragonballs anthrax in the mail and feet on the beaches eyes in the sky eyes from under bomb threat at my school mom had me stay home and munch on some chips watch the tv
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Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
Ttthee
Snow White in fact to hell and back pursued the seven Dwarves Who daily mined their businesses and never minded yours She danced the ground where hammers pound She sang in quadraphonic sound She knew her scene was just on screen And screens were not of human beings She knew her life in truth to be Light flickering through transparency And that she soon as all cartoons Would roll back to her film's cocoon Then a sticky floor for a Disney ***** A princess serving clients She did her part, now Dwarven hearts Can beat the blood of Giants
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May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
Snow White in Fact
Weeaboo. Owning this geeky word was not something I immediately understood. Coming from a school where geeks were castaways, with Otaku and weeb being even worse terms than that. But now she, who loves video games, and cartoons - a geek herself, dare I say, - calls me a not only a weeaboo, a term revered here, but a failed one. Many references I lack to see, My circle of watched media is constrained, me being the picky geek that I may be. The simple act of putting on fluffy ears that I deem kawaii, She takes as the action of a 'furry'. I rarely see memes, something that not only geeks look at, but social media as well, yet she acts as though it lies within the domain of otakus. Saying ohauyo, tadima, or even simply arigato, gives me a snide reply of, "freaking weeb" Making pebbles into boulders is her specialty.
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Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
Pebbles into Boulders
Nostalgia is a poor excuse for ignorance yet it pervades with a tenacity stemming from fabricated desire for the smell of **** we're told is roses and it's blasphemous to question potential "isms" lurking behind the veil of Saturday morning cartoons and black and white family sitcoms. Yet by the time the sonic *** organs have lain into us with repressed emotion, the holy spirit has spilled its ***** in the dirt to traverse onward floating apparition out of the room and down the hall closer towards progress. and we are left reeling stumbling into the hallway buttoning our blouses and yanking at our zippers wondering what could cause such great haste and we follow blindly in the wake of the first high or we turn backwards and plunge into fading bricolage as a means to cope with the rapid and fleeting *********** of the electric eye in its shape-shifting pylons and appendages getting smaller in the naked eye and gargantuan in the mind. Clutching our ******* in great amorous heaves of lust or donning our father's clothes in a mask of artifice and enlightened cultural pretension. Moaning for the days of youth a week ago, the epoch squeezed in the space between thumbs, looking for treasures in the trash craving something tangible in an increasingly intangible world. The semblance of touch lost on a generation who knows only of emotion through hieroglyphics and never through direct sensation. So we dig through the toy boxes and leave Generation X puzzled as we dig into their records in Guns n Roses T-shirts and high waisted jeans. We're just looking for an immaculate conception of something palpable.
0
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Nostalgic Fallacy
Nostalgia is a poor excuse for ignorance yet it pervades with a tenacity stemming from fabricated desire for the smell of **** we're told is roses and it's blasphemous to question potential "isms" lurking behind the veil of Saturday morning cartoons and black and white family sitcoms. Yet by the time the sonic *** organs have lain into us with repressed emotion, the holy spirit has spilled its ***** in the dirt to traverse onward floating apparition out of the room and down the hall closer towards progress. and we are left reeling stumbling into the hallway buttoning our blouses and yanking at our zippers wondering what could cause such great haste and we follow blindly in the wake of the first high or we turn backwards and plunge into fading bricolage as a means to cope with the rapid and fleeting *********** of the electric eye in its shape-shifting pylons and appendages getting smaller in the naked eye and gargantuan in the mind. Clutching our ******* in great amorous heaves of lust or donning our father's clothes in a mask of artifice and enlightened cultural pretension. Moaning for the days of youth a week ago, the epoch squeezed in the space between thumbs, looking for treasures in the trash craving something tangible in an increasingly intangible world. The semblance of touch lost on a generation who knows only of emotion through hieroglyphics and never through direct sensation. So we dig through the toy boxes and leave Generation X puzzled as we dig into their records in Guns n Roses T-shirts and high waisted jeans. We're just looking for an immaculate conception of something palpable.
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i miss the old wooden swing in my backyard where i used to sit and think and write for hours i miss being lazy on the living room couch and watching cartoons with my youngest brother i miss sitting in my room, hearing footsteps from the floor above and being able to know exactly whose they were i miss waking up late on saturday mornings to the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen i miss being able to tell my little sister she looks pretty every morning before she goes off to school i miss sitting on my mother's bedroom floor and listening to her tell stories about Tennessee i miss hearing my father constantly whistle and sing while he walked around the house doing different things i miss living four minutes away from my best friend and sleeping at her house for days just because i could i miss talking to my brothers at 2 o'clock in the morning about absolutely nothing and positively everything i miss taking pictures of my backyard, even though nothing about it has really changed in the past twelve years but i think that i miss home the most at mealtimes - m.f.
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Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
a homesick poem
Sometimes I get this feeling where eyes have come to focus on me, they keep popping up in the dark like the cartoons on TV. Then the questions begin. "What are you doing?" "What are your goals?" "What is your purpose?" The list goes on and on Repeating in my head. And all I do is shut down From fake expectations I made up in my mind. I just wish I knew why.
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
Fake Expectations
Agnes McDuff collected strange stuff, Or so the story goes: There were old pots and pans, String, rubber bands, Boxes and boxes of clothes, Newspapers, plates, Books stored in crates, And candlesticks lined up in rows. Some mason jars, Toy trucks and cars, A model train with a whistle that blows, Needles and spools, All kinds of tools, And shoes with holes in the toes. There were tables and chairs, Bookends in pairs, A grandfather clock that was broke, An old brass spittoon, Some Sunday cartoons, And a bicycle mssing a spoke. Four or five hundred old wooden blocks, Twenty-three pair of grey woolen socks, A Christmas Edition bottle of Coke, A board game missing directions, A bat, a ball, a catcher’s mitt, two baseball card collections, And a great big rusty tuba.  What a joke! There was other stuff, but you’ve heard enough; About what was stored in The Attic of Agnes McDuff. Part 2 Agnes’ attic was quite special But not for the things it contained But for how she had to get there Please let me explain! Agnes had a one-story house A flight of stairs led to the attic. When she opened up the door, The light came on automatic. It opened to a hallway Where there was another door Another light, another hall, and more stairs, which Led back down to the first floor! Where an elevator waited To take her up again? But it had just one button And it was numbered “10”. When she pushed it, it was crazy The elevator turned upon its side, Grew wheels and drove out on the street For an amazing ride! Across a long suspension bridge, Then underneath a tunnel, And then it went around and round Like circling down a funnel! It dropped upon a railroad track Hooked onto the caboose And followed to the roundhouse Where it finally broke loose. It turned around a couple times And ran out toward the street The elevator ran, of course Because it had grown two feet! It ran across an avenue, Around a lake, and through a park And then through another tunnel Where it was very dark. A mile later it emerged, At Agnes’ house, by her front door! The elevator walked inside, And was on the second floor!! So that’s how Agnes reached her attic, Perhaps someday you’ll go there too, Push the elevator button, And you’ll find my story’s true! Part 3 Agnes stood there in her attic And smiled at all her stuff That almost ends the story of The Attic of Agnes McDuff. But Agnes’ story can never end Her smile turned to a frown, Because you see poor Agnes Forgot how to get back down!! PwL  May 1, 2015
0
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
The Attic of Agnes McDuff
Agnes McDuff collected strange stuff, Or so the story goes: There were old pots and pans, String, rubber bands, Boxes and boxes of clothes, Newspapers, plates, Books stored in crates, And candlesticks lined up in rows. Some mason jars, Toy trucks and cars, A model train with a whistle that blows, Needles and spools, All kinds of tools, And shoes with holes in the toes. There were tables and chairs, Bookends in pairs, A grandfather clock that was broke, An old brass spittoon, Some Sunday cartoons, And a bicycle mssing a spoke. Four or five hundred old wooden blocks, Twenty-three pair of grey woolen socks, A Christmas Edition bottle of Coke, A board game missing directions, A bat, a ball, a catcher’s mitt, two baseball card collections, And a great big rusty tuba.  What a joke! There was other stuff, but you’ve heard enough; About what was stored in The Attic of Agnes McDuff. Part 2 Agnes’ attic was quite special But not for the things it contained But for how she had to get there Please let me explain! Agnes had a one-story house A flight of stairs led to the attic. When she opened up the door, The light came on automatic. It opened to a hallway Where there was another door Another light, another hall, and more stairs, which Led back down to the first floor! Where an elevator waited To take her up again? But it had just one button And it was numbered “10”. When she pushed it, it was crazy The elevator turned upon its side, Grew wheels and drove out on the street For an amazing ride! Across a long suspension bridge, Then underneath a tunnel, And then it went around and round Like circling down a funnel! It dropped upon a railroad track Hooked onto the caboose And followed to the roundhouse Where it finally broke loose. It turned around a couple times And ran out toward the street The elevator ran, of course Because it had grown two feet! It ran across an avenue, Around a lake, and through a park And then through another tunnel Where it was very dark. A mile later it emerged, At Agnes’ house, by her front door! The elevator walked inside, And was on the second floor!! So that’s how Agnes reached her attic, Perhaps someday you’ll go there too, Push the elevator button, And you’ll find my story’s true! Part 3 Agnes stood there in her attic And smiled at all her stuff That almost ends the story of The Attic of Agnes McDuff. But Agnes’ story can never end Her smile turned to a frown, Because you see poor Agnes Forgot how to get back down!! PwL  May 1, 2015
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I often get this feeling where eyes have come to focus on me they keep popping up in the dark like in the cartoons on t.v the race begins my heartbeat is almost going faster than my thoughts but not quite ¨what is your purpose in this mess we call life¨ ¨what are you doing and what are your goals¨ the list goes on and on repeating in my mind am I supposed to want to keep living all I want to do is shut down from all these fake expectations but they´re made up in my head i m f i n e I just wish I knew why why am I alive to fulfill these expectations but the ones I made for you better me I find it strange when I look into your eyes I'm not imagining an endless starry night the world around me doesn´t f   r     e       e         z           e but when I look at you i can finally               b r e a t h e I see a fire in your eyes not anger, nor fright but the calming sense of a wild familiarity a crackling, thriving light bursting through the cold night my heart floods with an endless sea of visions even when your focus seems far off in the distance I get this feeling every time our eyes, hands, or lips greet I feel at peace resting among the clouds I feel such a deep affection it is more than alright but is it alright for me to say what´s on my mind what love is this, I cannot say everything enticed behind it you do not need starry skies or a stomach that´s full of a million butterflies you shouldn´t have an expectation and my words don´t need to have diction I know what´s in my heart is right and finally, my mind is more than satisfied
0
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
cartoons
I often get this feeling where eyes have come to focus on me they keep popping up in the dark like in the cartoons on t.v the race begins my heartbeat is almost going faster than my thoughts but not quite ¨what is your purpose in this mess we call life¨ ¨what are you doing and what are your goals¨ the list goes on and on repeating in my mind am I supposed to want to keep living all I want to do is shut down from all these fake expectations but they´re made up in my head i m f i n e I just wish I knew why why am I alive to fulfill these expectations but the ones I made for you better me I find it strange when I look into your eyes I'm not imagining an endless starry night the world around me doesn´t f   r     e       e         z           e but when I look at you i can finally               b r e a t h e I see a fire in your eyes not anger, nor fright but the calming sense of a wild familiarity a crackling, thriving light bursting through the cold night my heart floods with an endless sea of visions even when your focus seems far off in the distance I get this feeling every time our eyes, hands, or lips greet I feel at peace resting among the clouds I feel such a deep affection it is more than alright but is it alright for me to say what´s on my mind what love is this, I cannot say everything enticed behind it you do not need starry skies or a stomach that´s full of a million butterflies you shouldn´t have an expectation and my words don´t need to have diction I know what´s in my heart is right and finally, my mind is more than satisfied
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