"circulated" poems
The Affair
I fell in love with childhood,
he wore a red cape
made of polyester plaid,
tiny stitches of lines
circulated around his palm.
He never wore a mask,
his memories wore enough of one,
a fog remnant of a dream,
his home he’d never see again
all along the river, led up to a lake.
It didn’t matter anyway,
a wedge upon two brick walls
was a plaque – or a warning –
a memorial, perhaps, but
all succumbed to his pain,
every inch crumbled to dust.
That’s when I took his childhood away.
I fell in love with memories.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.
The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:
Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.
"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.
In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.
Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.
"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"
On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.
"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
The ecstasy was profound
burning through limb and pore-
attached to the ground,
bound by its core.
Pulling away the joy
circulated through her form
smiling at the boy
now depleted and worn.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
It's that time again.
When rangey youth
in wounded utes
are sent to pick up tin.
Eyes peeled for
shiny mangled bikes
and steely bits
of thing.
I want to see
the crucible
they put it in.
Behold the pearly
metallurgic
mess unfold.
A gleaming steaming
mass of brassy storm
So cooked
and cooled
and coaxed
and clicked
and jewelled
into mercurial form
Then moulded
bright and fine
once more.
This is the
Copper loop
of life we mine.
Eternal
Circulated
Alchemy
Divine.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 2:30 AM UTC
"wish everyone was loved tonight
And somehow stop this endless fight
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days"
Better Days by the Goo Goo Dolls
<>
Yeah yeah. Dating myself.
Some reason find myself listening to the GGD,
(A less embarrassing initialization)
Heard it a thousand times,
Classic easy listening rock.
A sweet wish, everybody knows, ain't gonna happen>
But, In my hand, a -perfecta summer day,
Steady sun, genteel sea breeze, low humidity,
The insects tolerate a shooing away, go easy and disappear,
House empty, everyone doing something and
You know where I am, tip~tapping on my iPad,
Yup, in that room, where poems are fan circulated,
And fall, freely, from the wood ceiling directly
Onto screen, my only job, to screen
The screen for typoes and other such minor inconveniences
There is no time to calculate,
No time to measure, no errors to complete that can't be undone,
And To mourn,
And the Angels have come in silently,
The day so fine, their human side,
Returns for a sun tan and the heat that heals
Burns, wounds, fissures, and even stalling
Out the growth of the bad cells our bodies
Con~tain;
They do not run nor hide,,
whispering I am too pessimistic,
And the Day will bleed into sunfall,
With colors sublime and god designed,
And if ever there was an evening
That the possibility greatest that
tonight
Everyone could be loved,
Even me,
Even you,
Even us,
The air has harmonies in the air flow,
And tonight, will be the time
When we all remember with a sly grin.
that we commence by loving oneself,
And then cell splitting,
and saliva sharing,
following tears and sweat,
and cradling arms
will entwine
Only Love Poems
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 3:14 PM UTC
As the poison ran through her veins
She started to lose control
Couldn't breathe
Couldn't talk
Couldn't move
Couldn't think about anything else.
The worst part is that she poisoned herself.
But she won't die, nor will she be okay.
Because this poison is a different kind.
The poison is hopelessness
Being let down
Negative thinking
This poison is her own creation
Specific to her
And the people she cares about can poison her just as easily as they can breathe.
Now she's sitting
Motionless
Speechless
Thoughtless
Breathless
Because the poison has circulated
And it's reached her heart.
But she won't die, nor will she be okay
Because this poison is a different kind.
She physically feels sick
She wants to die
To **** herself
To cut
Drink
Drown
Hang
Shoot
Break
And cry
But she can't.
Because this poison has paralysed her.
This poinsion has taken away
her will to breathe, not her breath itself.
Her will to move, not her mobility itself.
Her will to talk, not her speech itself.
But it has replaced every thought with that of a blade
Or a rope
Or a gun
Or a bottle
Or a pill
Or a lake
Or a building
This poison has polluted we mind and mingled with her blood. The will to **** is a part of her now and there is nothing she can do to escape that.
Despite wanting to sleep for eternity six foot under
This poison cannot **** her
Only she can
And she is close
And willing
And weak enough to attempt.
She cannot think of anything else
And it's all her fault
She created this
She started it all.
If she had succeeded last year, she wouldn't be around to have created this poison.
So until she has hit rock bottom and has a chance at succeeding
She will try to drown her demons
Suffocate her demons
Bleed herself dry of the poison
Consume enough alcohol to alter the poison
But she won't die, nor will she be okay
Because this is a different kind of poison
And she is already dead inside.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
I saw a glimpse of her the other night
In a split second and she vanished
Into the thin air
Her movement was swift..
Just like the wind...
And she was gone...
I neither saw nor heard about her again
Not after long when ...
A little bue bird started to sing
Juliet’s Secret love affair was revealed... hot stories!!
Crude people clapped their hands,
Rumours was fastly circulated ,
Juliet was exposed as Romeo’s lover,
Secret meetings, messages exchanged,
Between the two forbidden lovers..
Talk of the town, disgraced to her family...
Devastated she couldn’t reach Romeo...
A pang of disbelief... a slap on her own face
Her hero escaped , deserted her..
He has betrayed her , called her unfaithful instead...
Juliet a sinner... people shouting in the streets...
Juliet’s heart sank... hopleless she was...
Where is Romeo .. the hero of her heart?
She fell to the ground... a sharp knife in her hand
Should I die for love she asked?
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
We have let go of our frantic lust
for the shiny metal in the Sacramento hills.
It was hard for my grandfather,
in coming west on horse and with wagon,
dragging a family across the pimpled skin
of the young land, to help John Sutter
build his new empire.
He then found that his dream of good land
for ranching was subverted with easy gold.
Grandfather’s first home on the bank of the river:
a tule hut, or grass hut, left behind by
Mi-wuk Indians, who wandered with
the elk and circulated with the
wonderment of passing stars;
no regard for what shined beneath them.
It’s in the luring poems and the stories that the
old California adventure comes back to us.
No one longer builds much with grass,
and cannot so easily pick out fortunes
by following the earth’s deep cracks.
Some would walk away from jobs and cities,
bulging packs strapped on shoulders,
and head up through the openings
and narrowings of the valleys,
and into the foothills of the Sierras.
Camp beside ****** trout holes
and dip into the riffled water
at the edge of perfect green mirrors:
to find what is precious and become
free from the cycle of the frantic lust.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
The staff, who are stuffed full of paper,
stapled, on white,
are to be circulated with minutes,
full of minutiae,
but only the chosen staff will receive such chaff,
intricate, in triplicate,
and the others will have to wait for memoranda,
definitely not grander,
on subjection, objection and rejection
for the weary and unwary.
The brochure on staff conduct
will be grosser,
and superannuation won't be super.
There will be no more staff resolutions,
no revolutions,
so that managers can preserve the status quo
and hasten slow.
Talent is banned,
promotion is underhand,
ass-kissing is in,
no sin,
and perks,
no jerks,
are for the executive few.
***** you.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
i think cavemen were beautiful
with their primitive actions to
sculpt bare rocks and minerals
into tools to reach out to hearts.
they had their own language,
like countries i've never been to
or tribes i wish to witness
because even the minimum
was pure and enough
to keep their thoughts racing,
to push them to feel life
through fingertips and dancing.
i think this earth used to be
beautiful, with gallons of
salt water surrounding
one entity, we were once
all connected before
we were able to take our
first gasp of oxygen,
before we could communicate
how the earth was not flat
and circulated to
let the light take over the
heavy and forget what
heat is during the
ice coverings for 90
shaded days.
i think we forgot how to
really let our blood
strengthen our bodies,
using complex chemicals
to ease reality because
we know we are wrong at times
and right when we can't turn
back centuries.
we breathe to taste our
own ignorance,
when really we should be
breathing to feel alive,
but the numbers don't
change and we tend to
only care for ourselves.
cavemen gave and gave and gave
until they couldn't breathe in the
light anymore and the energy
moved on to the next,
like how ionic bonds
result in a positive
or negative charge.
sometimes our structures
aren't so step by step,
but our feet can take over
for that.
it is our time to take over and
****** our ideas out for the taking,
but i'm nervous we won't make it.
i'm scared that everything we've known
will fall down to the mantle of our
beautiful planet because
my generation
was too worried
about the little
things.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
Twisted tales come surging
From a mind writhing and purging
In an oft fomented urging
For expressions, pure and raw
That fight repressions, lure and claw
Their way up to the surface
To effect a sense of purpose
But it's really all just worthless. . .
That's, unless you think it's not!
But if you don't: Your brain might rot!
Your skin might bubble, blood might clot
Leaving you heaving bile and snot
Or maybe phlegm and sputum
So your mental stores, you loot 'em
Load these rhymes up and you shoot 'em
Into repressed regression's mains
Into depressed suppression's veins
Until they sing a glad refrain
Of being decoagulated
Platelets become agitated
Now the blood is circulated
And the brain that hibernated
Has awakened from its slumber
Now it ponderously lumbers
With intentions unencumbered
Gotta do it by the numbers
So, them synapses start firin'
Them cortices start wirin'
And belly full of fire sings
Of jelly beans and tire swings
Of silly schemes and flyer wings
On foul mouthed little parrot,
Owners ***** laundry, airs it
Polly want a *******
Just a snack sir?
But old Polly sez:
**** me harder, Álvarez!"*
Look aghast, her husband Ted:
*"Oh hell no ***** 'cause that's the bed
that both we AND our children sleep in!
you've got Latin Lovers creepin'?"*
She vacates the bedroom weepin'
Well . . . that took a drastic turn
To dwellings where disasters churn
So silly, will we ever learn
Or for mere want of learning, yearn?
(Tom, to himself: Go eat food. . . .)
(Tom, back to himself: Good idea!)
I think he left, but I'm still near
As tattered, scattered writing, dear!
So, read me well and read me clear,
And bring some friends to visit here!
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
Goodbye
Disgusting excuse of a friend
A confidant
I used to hold such confidence in,
Now a sickly
Pseudo relationship.
You and I
A Despicable desert dry
Duo
I can't spend another second
At this pathetic pretending
That you can offer anything to anyone
But a narcissistic notion
And a nerve-racking
neuroses of the mind
The universe is out to get you
I curse my oblivious self
I had forgotten you are the single
Cohabiter on Earth
Ah, yes
You are undefeated
At the blame game
I've tried to hold honor in defeat
But, I don't have an ounce of energy left
For your egotistical world
You unhinged
Dark gate
You let your steed of self-obsession
Out to stampede the sincerest hearts
You don't even see the *****
Destruction
You deal out
From your deprived reciprocity
Alcohol, your only ailment
Your **** filled words
Tossed out lament and futile
This is where we go our divided way
I will not claim even a freckle on your face
As a friend
I will not look back
Nostalgia is not necessary
I will detach myself from your
Leach like misery
And I'll slowly build strength back
A blood flow of enraged fierceness
Has circulated through my core
And it will be as if
I never had any bit
Of me
Belonging to you
Friend, now foe
Farewell
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
I'm always falling for girls who are arrows shot through the hearts of prodigal sons.
You've been in my head for days.
I've been clinging to your later
Like a shipwrecked sailor
Clings to the shattered bow
As the ocean tries to swallow him whole.
You swallowed me whole,
And you barely even opened your mouth;
Just wide enough for me to taste honey
And see stars that have been three nights creating haloes around my drunken head.
But you'll only hold my hand in the shadows;
You'll only ask me how I am if you know the answer will be
I'm fine
not
I've got you under my skin
But you're under it, girl.
You're seven layers deep,
And suddenly you're rushing through my bloodstream
And filling my body with a five-dime dream
That is only of your face.
Everyone knows that web of red veins
All lead back to the heart.
So I'm putting up fences
But leaving gaps between the posts
So when you’ve circulated my system
and I can feel you tingling electricity in every one of my cells
It’ll look like the bars I’ve put up were to keep you out
But really the space between was to let you in.
I’ll be shining a light so bright that maybe you’ll grow powdered wings
and flutter towards me like a moth who can’t ignore the flame for even one more second.
You’re more like a butterfly though.
When I look at you I see every colour;
I see grace and beauty, and in your voice I hear a melody so sweet it makes me wonder
whether you’re a girl,
Or if maybe you’re a songbird.
Maybe you build a new nest every night
From twigs and feathers and broken hearts.
You showed me a cutting of your old boyfriend’s hair
That you keep in your wallet
Because you dream of recreating him.
I thought if I knew how I’d make an army of this boy for you,
I’d carve his face from limestone
And give him blossoms for eyes
But I’d give him my lips,
So that when you kissed him I’d taste you.
And it’s not like I’d make you,
But inside my head we’re every day making each other laugh;
We’re every day running through dappled fields,
Calling each other’s names,
Smelling each other’s hair.
It’s the sweetest thing.
That’s all I really want to say
Is that you make me smile and dream,
And sometimes I’m looking at your face
For just a bit longer than you’re looking at mine,
And in the half-light I think,
Isn’t she beautiful.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
In these ways unlike any other
You have made me a bigot
How can I trust someone
With your nose; broad as any stereotype
Your eyes; The color of over-circulated dollar bills
Your lips; billowing, plush, plumped like a fresh Challah
Over-flowing like your Manischewitz Wine.
Lying mouth
A liars mouth
You look like a lender
You look like a heathen
You are an Aryan Mother Mary
Your hair is blonde. No, it’s yellow. No, it is ***** blonde
***** blonde
Stop controlling my multimedia experience
Mismanage the tasteless fruits of my love no longer
But who am I to hold your cultural tropes against you?
The way you hold my state of mind
Up to my eyes, only to make me see what it is you view
You are the jew. And I’m the one burning alive.
Jan 2, 2010
Jan 2, 2010 at 7:48 PM UTC
What’s mine is
yours what isn’t
all his possessed cheap
and passed on
needle deeds to pour out
the thimbles-
full fitting
nimbly in the shallow
dimples of
a love’s distressed palm.
Its clutch of fare-
well will break
hers down to
beggared bits
so nebulous ours
can’t keep from
advancing
matters and oh how
theirs gets circulated
energetically.
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
We are seen by the eyes of hatred
We are known for disgrace in society,
but who knows
we are naked every night
to save other innocents
to save the society,from the evil eyes,
to feed our family,
We are ***** every night
to fulfil your desire
nobody sees our tears & never will,
because we will always be a harlot,
the hated people in the society
but nobody knows the reason ,
why we are selling ourself every night!!!
Every night we are in tears of agony,
to satisfy millions every night
we are just circulated like a dice to one another
we unclean our soul
to satisfy you,
but still we are bluffed
we are just a joke for others
we are neglected people out of millions,
but at night you come
to tor us apart
you satisfy your hunger
you enjoy our pain
&
we are in bed crying,
but you cant see because
you dnt have that eyes to see
you dnt have that heart to feel ,
but still we are hated in the society
& you are the respected one
"This is our Society"
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
I'm sitting here alone
On the edge of the huge stone
Can't believe you're already gone
Nothing better without your tone
I miss everything about you
I wish I could hold your hand once again
I didn't meant to hurt you
Hurting you has never been my duty
You were everything I had
We enjoyed every peace of moment we had together
Our hearts were connected
You were the only girl who
Had a Love I needed
I felt my true self around you
Found Myself doing crazy stuff
You were like"oh my mizzy" and gives me a baby kiss
That the moment I held your hands
Hug you tight and, and lifts you up
It's felt awesome ,you somehow liked it.
People around us were all against us
They didn't recognized our future as bright
But i always saw brightest light
For our precious future
We had too many dreams
We wanted to fulfill
It all shaded away in a matter of seconds
I sometimes refer Love as a tree
A tree which grow in a very sensetive place
"A heart"
When it grows larger it's roots are being
Circulated all over the place
When someone removes it
It's roots left behind
Its than intend to live in your heart forever
Thats how painful love can be
We drafted a novel
Its failed throgh the power of evil
We needed a fuel
Happiness was our aim
It all down the drain
It no longer on our vain
I wanted it to remain
Forever on our empty hearts
I don't know why I'm doing this
My feelings led me to this
I was making mistakes
You never let it got to your
Attention
You were pretending like
Nothing happened
You never held grudges for me
Our Love was like ever
Floating river
Made of silver
Its felt great, ever
I wanted it to lasts forever
No other One could give me the genuine love like yours
You remain the best ex girlfriend
I can write bunch of pages
There plenty of images
Running through my mind
The sweet memories we had
How could I ever flash them
On my mind
This is somehow an ever floating Love
I wish you all the best on
Your life journey
You'll always be good to me.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
it is circulated deep into the soil
that you’ve wore the dress of paraffin
in the multidimensional wind of the winter
the cash-memo of the recently purchased
gold-bangles
would reside for some time more
then all the pregnant women
would assemble in the river-ghat
to meditate on the paddy-blossoms
all diamonds and clubs
would overcome their insomnia
through this arrangements
the crushing-news of fostering
flows
this dilution is well-known
the river-ripple of the air
after reading the sun
would keep some extension of dahlia
on its palms
in an unwritten evening
the demi-god-birth of the fire-flies
would break
their easy dead bodies
by the instigation of the surges
would ring … and ring… and ring
and spread cheerfulness
the elderly rain-tree comes to spray anti-biotic
on the spoilt top-branch of the young lad
covered with citronella
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
I watched her disrobe from afar,
mesmerized was I
hidden amongst the papyrus
as she stood bathing
in the cool Nile crystal waters.
As beautiful as all the Heavens,
her skin glowed milk
below her burnt
cocoa ringlets.
Goddess cheekbones
graced a delicate smile
of teeth like fine jewels.
The curves of her hips
were finely shaped,
sculpted from
the prettiest Roman marble.
Beautiful acorn-nipples
adorned
her delicious
apple-shaped *******
A trace of dark wool
enveloped her flower
blossoming
between fine firm legs,
made from
the stoutest of cedar.
I stood silent,
watching in awe,
as her delicate
fingers circulated
her moist fineness.
And when she sighed
in bliss,
I released
my own satisfaction,
kissing the air &
swallowing her fragrance,
trembling
downwind
from her sweet Jasmine scent.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
The eighth deadly sin is co-existence.
That is what the bible forgot to tell us.
There are scriptures of love, connotations
Of how the heart works and how it beats and what forces
It to start and stop but,
none of them explain what it goes through, when
It beats for another human being.
The arteries from the heart in a hand do not only carry blood,
But also, thoughts as fugitives of elegance which
need to be released.
The structure within them carries itself within each existent-form
On earth, and veins and arteries were made to be intoxicated
By the supplies of it in the form of what their minds choose not to remember.
It was made that way by the antagonist of memory, and
the screen on which it is displayed onto becomes eternally shattered by its strength of other loved analgesics.
Within the shards of the shattered screen is a motivation of malice,
That expresses ******* within the blood as it is circulated around of the body.
When the empathetic assemblance of the sharpness in
Both the blood plasma and the glass shards become
Heightened by the knowledge of an instigating love for illness,
It is too late for the body to blame it on anything but the contents
Of its own mind.
Eventually the walls of each blood supply will transform into thin layers of restriction,
That allow everything in,
but nothing out.
Poison is planning, and self-infection is the key to only replicating happiness.
So because of this,
whenever a man holds a human heart in the creases of his palm,
He has no choice but to bleed on it as well.
This is not for anyone else but himself...
I have learnt that today.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
The most enchanting of views grasped my conscience by simultaneous never-ending palpitations that slowly but surely circulated through the darkest & most deepest of gardens...
Far and away within those unique datum of charming beats...thousands of charms began to reveal like fireworks in the Sky...
It is an essence that travels so deeply into the air, that the air itself can't help but consume the remaining of the trace it leaves behind with each stroke...
That's the energy that wonders in the air for so long that I can't help myself but not captivate the residuals of the purity of its existence...
It is what it does to me day in...between...and out....
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
I’d like to hang upside down
so that my tears run up my face and drip
from the tips of my hair
Form puddles beneath my suspended mind
and ripple outward with each coming scream
When my head gets heavy
with the poorly circulated blood
and bricks of thought
I will shake my mind wild
in hope that it will be flung from my eyes
and will splatter far across the ground
I’d like to be squeezed
closed tight in a suspension that promises contradiction
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
previously
i would of said
love was the purpose
there was a heart to this universe
and it circulated
meaning
to every extremity
but now i wake
to toil
silver and gold pockets
finally a son to profit
my father was right
we're all just a number
and we cant add up to
lofty goals
or life plans
you're not a doctor.
i'm not a police man.
dream
no more my sweet
those are shores
we'll never meet
ithaca
is no more
and never was
and i'm not the kind of king to be waiting on
a prince, a pauper, a peon
i'm only a man in an argument with God
but its a problem
that is often
never solved
life is getting
what you dont want
and making the best of disappointment
oh penelope
it may be 10 years
or twenty
but i'll make it back!
i swear i'm coming back!
with money in bags
and cloudy eyes
'how're you?'
'oh, you know me
i'm making
it by
and by'
'but you're not you
you're not you anymore'
and we'll both get by
not really happy
but, hey, thats life
maybe one day
i'll wreck upon your shore
and your suitors will meet me
and my sword
i can string a bow
and keep my word
all at once
oh penelope
wont you wait for me?
wont you unweave
this burial shroud?
because
i am not
no no no
i am not
dead
yet.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 1:05 AM UTC