"christine" poems
Christine is like a cool breeze on a hot summer day,
warm hot cocoa on a blizzardly winter day,
peace on earth,
a first kiss,
a magic moment,
a mother's love for her baby,
a tight hug in times of desperation,
a get together with old friends,
a memory of an unforgettable, life-changing event that was a blessing,
a melody so precious it makes you glad to be alive,
a best friend,
singing with those you love,
a coming together of friends and family during the holiday season,
when enemies turn to love and forgive each other becoming close friends,
birds chirping on a sunny spring morning,
someone saving another life,
and dying in the arms of your lover but the love never ceasing
and always remaining like an eternal flame
I love you, Christine.
Words can never describe you well enough
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 5:10 PM UTC
My sunshine after a stormy day.
My rainbow after a rainy day.
My mirror.
My best friend.
On my darkest day you never left,
you see me through when there's nothing left.
In a brink of loneliness,
you sparkled me with
joy and happiness.
You create a brighter day
on my deepest despair,
never forgetting a perfect
smile to wear.
Oh how I love those curly hair!
Bouncing and dancing
up and down in midnight air!
I could not catch a rainbow or
bring you the moon,
but I promise to be your best friend forever 'till noon.
We will be up talking from dusk to dawn,
this friendship will last
forever we will own.
I will walk with you side by side,
hold your hand with all my might.
In vain I will not leave,
count on it I'm yours to keep.
My dear Anne Christine,
best friend of mine.
Two as one and one define.
There may be times of falling out,
but our friendship will never obliterate nor root out.
As our hairs turn to Grey and
we grow old,
together we will be stronger
eightfold.
And when the time comes that our balanced ride in the waves of life is steadied by His hands,
we will wrap our memories in our hearts and keep them until we meet again above the heaven's sands.
We will welcome each other once again with our arms wide open,
locking in a tight embrace,
and that's when we'll know..
our friendship will be eternal..
- Ella Salvador
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
Youth runs hot, shinning souls consumed by desire.
On a search, they look for love to acquire.
But life walks by and shine does fade,
And all are in a masquerade.
It is as Heathcliff and his Kathy, they lost their love for pride.
If ether one had shown their face, would Kathy be his bride?
But life walks by and scars are made,
And all are in the masquerade.
Will you be as Ahab was, relentless for his whale.
If he had looked without his mask, would wind still hold his sails?
But life walks by and some do die,
And still goes on the masquerade.
Or will you be as the Phantom, searching for Christine.
But in the end it is Christine that finds true beauty hidden.
But life walks by and some scars fade.
And still some play the masquerade.
I beg you live your lives with passion, don't give yourself to fear.
For it is in life's darkest hours that true beauty does appear.
To look beyond life's ugly scars, to see a heart in all it's pain...
And love despite.
Do search you for your strange duet, and be not afraid to lift his mask.
For therein is where true beauty lies... And life walks by.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
this is for the queer kids
who are taught their ABC's
but not their L's, G's, B's and T's
for the Russian government and the I.O.C
who deny Russian queers their visibility
to the people who call me ******
i wear your name-calling like a pink triangle
stitched to my sleeve
for the Harvey Milk's, the Christine Burns'
and every queer in between
to the allies who do more than say
"your sexuality is okay with me"
for the Jamaican trans* teen
who was murdered needlessly
to the television networks
who portray LGBT individuals positively
for the radical queers
the POC queers
the genderqueers
the queers who have felt excluded
this is for you
for us
this is a celebration
and an ultimatum
we are here
we are queer
& we will do more
than survive.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
Maturity doesn't come with age
It comes with experiences
Age is just a number that means nothing
Experiences
either good or bad
make us stronger.
Being strong makes us mature.
-Andrea Christine
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
To: Sarah Joyce Crimson 8th July 1943
A man in a gray suit has captured my heart, mother
Along with the tie, of course
Surrounding plants would've died
At his gaze and grace
Armored charm and wide toothed smile
His last name could've might as well been poise
I don't know what it is about him, mother
But his gentle crinkled eyes certainly isn't
His voice is as flattering as the lullaby you once sang
The tone itself symbolizes warmth and stability
Undiscovered treasure in the midst of all volumes
It is home I feel closest to when I catch a glimpse of it in my ear
I don't know whether to feel astonished or quivered
By all means, that'd be deemed as eerie
But you once said when a man one day turned my cheeks bright pink
It sure could only mean one thing
It is unreliably evident not to notice me blush
It is even more apparent not to notice his blunt stare
Sending chilly shivers down my spinal cords
Activating fondness I'd never in a million years imagine I'd sense
If only you were here to see for yourself
How proud I'd make you, indeed
You said one day I'll be able to marry, mother
Well, this day isn't as far planned as it once seemed
From: Christine Louise Crimson
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
I have missed your company.
Enveloped in strange faces,
The only coterie I keep of late
Is that of your overwrought descant.
Oh, James Douglas.
What happened to your dream?
DO NOT DESPAIR,
FRIEND
The words you once transcribed
Your intoxicating,
Or was it intoxicated
Ragtime
Linger in the subconscious of a generation,
an unnoticeable haversack
Traveling
Seeing
Traveling
Watching every ounce
Of the determinate world
Seeing
Acting as
The portmantoligism of my conscience
And what is left of my intellect
Until I realize that my
Crippling loneliness,
Is the only palatable fruit of disillusionment.
See, Christine?
Anybody can use big words to write about the 20th Century.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.
It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.
Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.
The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.
Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "
Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.
Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.
Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"
Locked in a porta-potty
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness
Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
Who's that pale chick
Mumbling to herself about
Fictional schools of witchcraft and wizardry
And trolleys and snakes?
Oh that's just Christine
She's not that bad
If she tells you she's a
Reanimated corpse
Walking among the living by using brains as sustenance
Don't pay any attention.
She's probably just kidding.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
I was sexually abused when I was a child,
the only light at the end of that tunnel,
is that it wasn’t done,
by a family member,
but it was done,
and I don’t even remember,
as much as Christine Blasey Ford does,
nor have I ever had to testify,
all I remember was the taste of that ****
and how it taste like buried secrets,
the way they ferment and rot,
when lodged in the gut and not allowed to surface,
see we’ve all been abused,
and not a single one of us deserved it,
so now we serve this life sentence of guilty regret-ness,
which in turn as positioned me in service,
oh America The Beautiful,
when did we become so broken,
everyone’s got a story,
of either being abused or abusing,
watched the Judge Kavanaugh hearing,
watched Dr. Christine struggle to retell her tale,
under the glaring lights of the TV cameras,
under the glaring stare of a bunch of older white males,
I mean let’s put it into perspective,
here is a lady who’s held this secret for years,
and then in an instant she was broadcast worldwide,
for the whole world to hear,
her life will never be the same,
she’s admitted her most private moments to the public,
and all because to the highest court in the country,
this demon from her past is about to be appointed,
and I don’t know what my point is,
maybe I don’t have one,
like a lonely kid,
who’s only role model is a fictional superhero,
because he doesn’t have an honorable father,
a lonely kid,
who’s only friend is his pet dog,
that he takes faithfully with him,
we he goes on walks just to get lost,
doesn’t have a destination,
still he feels like he’s in a rush,
can’t focus his attention and is always impatient,
and don’t know where to go and only wants to find the love,
and when he tries to speak up to tell someone what’s up,
he’s just dismissed as ignorant and told to hush,
and what does it mean when a ****** predator,
has the title of Judge,
how can someone that acts so immorally,
be put in a position to weigh the scales of justice evenly,
maybe there’s no right and wrong anyways,
maybe nothing is for certain and there are no guarantees,
maybe,
maybe not,
but I do know one thing for certain,
wherever I go the trauma from my past is brought,
because I was sexually abused when I was a child,
and the only light at the end of that tunnel,
is that it wasn’t done,
by a family member…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
I never knew where she got the bones
But she spread them out in the grate,
And said to me that the way they fell
Would tell her about my fate.
I’d gone to her for the Tarot Cards,
I’d been told that she was a wiz,
But didn’t know what a wizard was
Till I met this girl called Liz.
She wasn’t a witch, she said to me,
For witches were too mundane,
They only had spells and love potions
And most of them were insane.
But she could look into the future with
The bones of the been and gone,
They helped to focus her visions on
The land of the to and from.
She spoke in riddles and teased my mind
In a language I didn’t know,
I asked her what I was headed for,
She said I had far to go.
She told me about my love, Christine,
And the secret plans she bore,
She wasn’t, as I had thought, pristine,
But had men in tow, by the score.
I asked her about the wedding that
We’d planned for along the track,
She said, I’d never be happy then,
Better get married in black.
She scattered the bones for a second time
And they fell about in the grate,
‘If you go on with your plans,’ she said,
‘You’re in for a dismal fate.’
‘There’s blood,’ she said, ‘and a kitchen knife,
A terrible slashing and cries,
‘I don’t know when, but it’s after then,
And a crazy look in your eyes.
Then someone lies on the kitchen floor
In a horrible pool of blood,
And footprints there, and a tipped up chair
Where somebody walked in mud.’
The wedding went as we’d always planned,
I never gave it a thought,
And Christine put on my wedding band
She didn’t think she’d be caught.
A man came round to the house one day
To say that Christine was his,
I took good note of his muddy boots
And suddenly thought of Liz.
He came at me with a kitchen knife
And said that he’d set her free,
I’d thought the knife had been meant for her,
But no, it was meant for me.
I seized his arm and we struggled then
While Christine stood in the door,
I somehow managed to turn the knife
And he lay dead on the floor.
‘Why did you set him loose on me,’
I cried, ‘the son of a gun,
What was the vow you made to me
That I’d be the only one.’
But Christine cried, and she knelt by him,
Her lover, down on the floor,
‘I told him before he shouldn’t come,
But he said that he loved me more.’
I was acquitted for self-defence
When the case came up for court,
And later I found that Christine went
She wasn’t the loyal sort.
I went again to the Oracle
And I spilled the bones with Liz,
While she laid on me a gentle kiss
And said, ‘It’s what it is!’
David Lewis Paget
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
She sits silently
Shellacked, superglued sans sound.
Cornered, Christine clenches
Claws covering cowardice
Comfort.
Taut tongue tangibly taciturn
Turns, transforms til truly torpid.
Silence caused transformation.
She is now an armchair.
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
Thank you Shaun,
for the pictures and flowers.
Thank you Lily,
for the ray of sunlight.
Thank you Bry,
for psychopathic measure.
Thank you D,
for the feeling of good pleasure.
Thank you Tay,
for tea and bears.
Thank you Meg,
for Sherlock and apples.
Thank you Zee,
for robots and twins.
Thank you Carrie,
for fangirling and friendship.
Thank you Liam,
for support and superheroes.
Thank you Paul,
for understanding and ingenious.
Thank you Ceryen,
for fake names and shared tears.
Thank you Chiara,
for Italian cheese and fanfics.
Thank you Rod,
for fish and evil.
Thank you Lia,
for kitties and souls.
Thank you Stephen,
for gravestones and vegetables.
Thank you Christine,
for mercurial and poetical love.
Thank you Caitlin,
for product design and Poundland.
Thank you Jordan,
for weddings and Brenda.
Thank you Conaill,
for DT and Courbet.
Thank you Brendan,
for axes and aunts.
Thank you Tom,
for form time and Brittany.
Thank you George,
for philosophies and pigeons.
Thank you Morgan,
for video games and hearing.
Thank you Alice,
for Pokemon and tumblr.
Thank you Aliyah,
for hearing aids and help.
Thank you all,
for reading and listening.
Thank you, me,
for absolutely nothing.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Falen Acon:
1.THE NERD...
He liked to read and was a straight A student and was very shy. (1 day relationship)
2. THE HOTTIE...
He was in love with himself and he hogged the mirror. (5 day relationship)
3. THE ****
He was to obsessed with football, basketball, track, and baseball and didn't pay me any attention and was to rough. (5 week relationship)
4. THE SKATER...
He cheated on me pretty much the whole time we went out and he had angry issues. (2 week relationship)
5. THE GAMER...
He played to many video games and was kind of forceful. (1 month relationship)
6.THE SMOKER...
He smoked to much **** and ciggs and i smelt like it and i don't even smoke and he was way to touchy and he fought to much. (1 month relationship)
Alexandria Christine Lund:
Top 5 worst boyfriends/girlfriends:
1. The 2 timer- She whined to much and apparently had a boyfriend, she wanted *** and was totally indecisive. (5 days)
2. The Stoner- He spent his time doing drugs and only wanted *** (3 months)
3. The Wannabe- He always wanted something else because I didn't fit in, he always lied he made up excuses even cheated. (5 months off and on)
4. The Fighter- He kept bragging about the military and wanted to constantly fight. (2 months)
5. The Worst- He treated me like a game, I made sure he never won it. (2 weeks)
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
lost in a maze of gazes;
lured
to the pool by the sound; Sondheim
sung badly in a nasal twang;
cught in her lace negligee one more time;
we give the old women the benefit
of the doubtful proposition; if granny
wants to get tied
to on the bedpost - yet again;
the gallant refrain from that old song
is remade the kpop way & tuned in to
the drag subculture; everyone u know;
the prostitution used to be better; maybe
there were once better prostitutes, what
I can see is unpleasantly stink eyed; hos
used to have class before they could
switch genders back & forth; that's some
millennial **** the first celebrity I ever
became aware of was Christine Jorgensen, from the newspaper story about a man who had surgery to turn himself into a woman; a patently impossible task; in the picture in the newspaper he had on a bouffant wig & big sequin ***** working as a showgirl in Vegas in its heyday, so she was already well-known; I always thought that bit of trivial information would come in handy one day: never did
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
Default! Default! parties from the left cried!
But the people said no, they still had their pride
They viewed these parties with some skepticism,
and tackled the problem with true stoicism
There were no riots, no violent demonstrations,
as was evident in many other debt ridden nations
We simply put our heads down and got on with the task,
answering all of the questions the world had to ask
And now through our efforts things seem to have improved,
with a deal on the promissory note having just been approved
We still owe the money but we have more years to pay,
we can only hope our grandchildren will pay it off one day
There are green shoots of recovery, all is not lost
We learned a valuable lesson, though at a significant cost
We have done well though we cannot let down our guard
A sentiment echoed recently by one Christine Lagarde
We cannot get carried away with president Obama’s praise
For Enda Kenny on Paddy’s day, of all the days!
though lauded in Europe as a good example to everyone
we must not relax, there is a lot more to be done
But after all the cost cutting, redundancies, pay cuts,
all we get from Europe now is more ifs and buts
And I know this is wrong before I’ve even said it;
but for all of our hard work, would Europe not give us some credit?
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
SuzAnne, nee Christine
Irascible, Incorrigible, Indefatigable, Affable
Adopted sister of Doug and Mike and sort of Jill
Lover of ideas and stances
Who fears laryngitis and deafness
Who needs music and malleability
Who gives grades and advice
Who would like to see Firenze and the Pyramids of Giza
Who lives in Hot Water
Wilson, nee Doe
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
There were bright lights
from the ceiling
once it got
dark outside
and when big Ted
brought in
the sandwiches
for tea or supper
or whatever
they called it
I sat next to Christine
on one
of the double sofas
and she looked
at the plates
of sandwiches
that were laid
on the table
and said
usual boring stuff
I’m not eating
I’d rather starve
big Ted said
O come on
young lady
we've got
to get you well again
and out of this ward
he offered her
a ham sandwich
real ham
he said
not that tin stuff
she looked at him
don't fancy meat
she said
he took up
a cheese sandwich
Cheddar
he said
good stuff
I’ve tasted it
downstairs
in the kitchen
I could eat a horse
I said
taking the cheese sandwich
no horse sandwiches today
Ted said smiling
Christine gazed at me
then at the plate
of sandwiches
it's an effort to eat
she said
I should be coming home
from my honeymoon now
if the **** hadn't left me
at the altar
done my head in
Ted raised his eyebrows
is there anything
I can get you other
than sandwiches?
they've got
sausage rolls downstairs
all dressed
in my wedding dress
with flowers
and waiting
and he doesn't show
I take a ham sandwich
his loss
I said
he must be missing a *****
not to wed you
she gazed at me
then took
a cheese sandwich
and ate
Ted frowned
and walked off
to get the teapot
and coffee pots
and cups
from the trolley
you'll find someone
I said
don't think
I want anyone now
think I'll become a nun
or missionary
in some far off land
sexless and taking care
of others
she sat eating
in silence for a moment
or two
not sure
I could go long
without ***
come to think of it
she took a ham sandwich
with one hand
and placed a hand
on my thigh
with that dull light
in her green blue
left eye.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
Christine stood
at the ward window
peering out
at the snow
you stood beside her
smelling the perfume
she wore
the one she was going to wear
on her honeymoon
had the ***** shown up
as she told you
a few days before
snow looks like icing
on a Christmas cake
she said
hope to Hell
I’m out of here by then
me too
you said
as long as the quack
don’t fry our brains
with ECTs again
better not have
she said
gives me headaches and ****
look at that tractor
out there in that field
see how those gulls
are following him
through the snow
she followed your finger pointing
like a ship at sea don’t it
she said
you stared up
at the greying sky
cloudless
and end of worldish
could have been
on my honeymoon
some months back
she said suddenly
could have been
well *******
and sun blessed
guess so
you said
instead I get brained fried
by some doc
in a white coat
don’t see how
he could have let you down
like he did
you said
that bridegroom
of yours
gutless worm
she said
leaving me standing there
in that white dress
and headpiece
and those fecking
pinching shoes
you sniffed her perfume
looked at her sideways
her eyes scanning
the fields and trees
her night gown
beltless
(in case we take
to hanging ourselves)
opening
to show legs
and night dress
hanging by the knees
she breathed
on the glass pane
breathed it up
and wrote
with her finger
no more ECTs.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
The dark night was out there
even though the shutters
were up at the windows
and the night nurse sat
in the small office
with her coffee
and wearing glasses
and you entered
unable to sleep
you wearing pyjamas
and dressing gown sans belt
in case you tried
to hang yourself again
and you sat opposite
taking in her big blue eyes
behind the lens of her glasses
her hair brown
and well kempt
and you said
when can I go home?
when you’re better
she said
when will that be?
you’ll know
she said
and sipped her coffee
how good does better feel
you have forgotten
but do not ask
her upper lip has skin
from the milky coffee
hanging
and she wiped it off
with the back
of her hand
and Christine stood
by the door of the office
dressed in her nightgown
pale green
and open at the top
showing the indentation
of her throat
and the small valley
where her ******* began
can’t sleep
she said moving in
and standing by the desk
you looked her
feeling an intrusion
yet glad she is there
her being there beside you
the smell of her
her hands on the desk
tapping
what is it with you two?
the night nurse said
if it’s not one
it’s the other
or both
can’t sleep
Christine repeated
had a nightmare
dreamed I was at the altar again
and he didn’t show again
and it happened again
and again
the nurse said
I’ll get you both something
but if the doctor
hears of this
he may recommend
ECT again
she looked at you opposite
across my dead ****
Christine said
but the nurse had gone
just you and Christine
and her nightmares clinging
gazing out the office
onto the sleeping ward
in semi dark
and the dread
of the ECTs
hauntingly present
remembering the last time
in the small back room
waking with a head heavy
and in pain
and Christine
lying beside you
on another bed
eyes closed
stiff like one sleeping
but acting dead.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of Greta Thunberg:
Filled with passion, warnings, truth.
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the dreams
of Calpurnia;
warning Caesar, bloodied earth
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the protections
of Tony Stark;
made with fear, love
Not believed.
Did they tell you to smile more?
Ask you why you’ve “gotten involved”?
Did they belittle your prophecy,
Ignore warning after warning?
Ignore you?
Mad woman, hysterical.
You, angered Apollo
Or
Was he always angry?
Did he believe himself so worthy
of your love that he cursed
not having it?
I don’t know.
You probably told someone
We know how that would have ended,
Cassandra,
I see you in the testimonies
of Christine Blasey Ford,
so hurt, pained, strong.
Not believed.
Were you told to sit quietly, mind your place?
When you were attacked was it your body
She defended
Or
Her own desiccated image?
Maybe you told the trees of
Ajex’s sins, because even if
the men listened,
A statue protected him from justice.
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of impassioned protestors
so bright, so young.
Not believed.
Maybe if you told them lies
they'd believe the truth.
Maybe if you told the truth
they'd believe the lies.
Believe anything you said.
Darling Cassandra
possible bride of Apollo.
definite belonging of King Agamemnon.
Did his children believe you?
Are you a warning to women?
Love who you are told to.
Bow to authority or
Never give up.
Are you a criticism of men?
Demanding of love.
Expecting subservience.
Justice not served.
Cassandra,
I see you in myself,
the pain they caused
the light going out
I am not believed.
Cassandra,
Does it get better?
Have you received the peace you so deserve?
Or are you still
Not believed.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 9:01 PM UTC
regarding labelling.
we are not what people think of us, it goes deeper than that,
we are not the words people say, it goes deeper than that.
we are not made by our history, it is something,
deeper than that.
then in a picture, it is not what you see on the surface,
it is far deeper than that.
#repeated.
sbm.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
Christine hated Saturdays
on the locked ward
the day her fiancé
jilted her at the altar
the ***** music playing
in the background
the flowers
the aisle carpeted
with that pattern
she will always remember
and as you saw her
across the way
looking out the window
you saw Eric the day kid
who was brought in
while his mother worked
was aggravating her
was poking her
in the back
and you saw red
and went and pushed him away
and that brought the male nurses over
and they stood between you both
and Eric glared at you
and the big nurse said
what’s going on here?
and Eric said
it’s him he pushed me
and Christine said
Eric was poking me
and Benedict was just
keeping him away
well calm down now
the fat nurse said
keep it cool
and so you and Christine
walked to another window
and peered out
at the snow
and she said
the creep
as if we haven’t enough
to cope with without
that creep aggravating us
but thanks anyway
for keeping him away
and you said
that’s ok
he gets to me too
I’ll bop him
one of these days
when the nurses
aren’t looking
and she smiled
and said
let me know when
I wouldn’t want
to miss that
and you looked out
at the falling snow
that was settling
on the fields
and tree tops
and far off
you saw a tractor
moving over the ground
and seagulls were following behind
and she said
quite picturesque isn’t it?
Yes
you said
kind of Christmas cardy
yes
she said
taking your hand
I wonder if we’ll be
out of here before then?
and you felt kind of numb
as if maybe the whole world
had gone black
and the snow fell
and you squeezed
her hand sensing
the warm flesh
and her thumb rubbed
against yours
and behind you
the unlocking
and locking
of doors.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
Card tricks.
Serenades.
Nothing.
Jokes.
Smiles.
Nothing.
Cuddles.
Hugs.
Nothing.
Deep stares.
Lips close.
Nothing.
Confession.
Awkward smile.
"Friends. Just friends."
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
it's not plagiarism,
rather, a collectivist
coincidence -
i can't believe people
in the former days would
reduce themselves
to plagiarism -
they'd sooner die than
relieve themselves
of an original idea -
working with a mythology -
how could such
differentiated people
achieve copernican
globalist relativistic /
globalist impetus,
and yet, somehow succumb
to an ethnocentric -
genesis of unoriginality...
yes, unfathomable,
the concept of polyphony,
synchronicity inter-people...
plagiarism is a modern
phenomenon,
it doesn't exists in
collectivism of inter-ethnic
conundrums of
segregating categorization...
just like evolution is god's
take on the thrill of gambling...
an original idea...
allowing an in group focus...
it could never be a plagiarism -
the segregating process of
techno. advancement...
toward a...
less cultural appropriation...
and more?
cultural loaning...
"plagiarism"...
perhaps i should "read" into
solving crossword puzzles...
now plagiarism is easy...
any son of sam
is not an arsonist...
but as my continued fascination
continues with
andrei chikatilo...
and batman, the dark knight rises
scene on the plane:
why would you shoot a man,
before taking him into a prison cell?!
ah... christine chubbuck...
this fascination... will not, die...
such a solemn,
vernacular death...
worthy of a Vatican pawn-ship
of preceding the scourge of death.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC