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"cracker" poems
my mother has blue eyes but I'm still a ****** my mother has blonde hair but I'm still a ****** my daddy is black as night but I'm still a ******* my daddy has ***** curls but I'm still a ******* I call this hash tag the struggle because to be biracial is nothing more because to be biracial is nothing less than a struggle to find who I am to find who I should be to find who I'm supposed to be i really wish they were the same person i really wish you understood hash tag the struggle but you don't and you won't so stop telling me about my good hair and stop telling about my high yellow skin and stop telling me my parents have the fever and stop staring at me when I walk in and stop trying to guess which parent is black and stop trying to guess which parent is spanish No I'm not Spanish. No I don't speak Spanish. No You CANNOT touch my hair Yes, my nose is in the air Of course I think I'm the **** Because I live my life trying to be better than women who are dark skinned ...with something I was born with ...out of my control Of course I try to flaunt my plush lips around the white girls who get botox who then become the have nots because I've stolen all the brothas hearts from the city and the boondocks See you don't even know me but you think these are my goals see I call this hash tag the struggle because nobody understands the trouble in being whole when you're given two halves that don't match to patch up one soul and you're born into a ****** up mess still expected to know and they tell you to ignore them all be yourself race should not define you but I can't even fill out two ******* boxes on a standardized test because you are only allowed to check ONE to describe you hash tag TheStruggle
0
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
LunaLynn_Poetry
#TheStruggle
my mother has blue eyes but I'm still a ****** my mother has blonde hair but I'm still a ****** my daddy is black as night but I'm still a ******* my daddy has ***** curls but I'm still a ******* I call this hash tag the struggle because to be biracial is nothing more because to be biracial is nothing less than a struggle to find who I am to find who I should be to find who I'm supposed to be i really wish they were the same person i really wish you understood hash tag the struggle but you don't and you won't so stop telling me about my good hair and stop telling about my high yellow skin and stop telling me my parents have the fever and stop staring at me when I walk in and stop trying to guess which parent is black and stop trying to guess which parent is spanish No I'm not Spanish. No I don't speak Spanish. No You CANNOT touch my hair Yes, my nose is in the air Of course I think I'm the **** Because I live my life trying to be better than women who are dark skinned ...with something I was born with ...out of my control Of course I try to flaunt my plush lips around the white girls who get botox who then become the have nots because I've stolen all the brothas hearts from the city and the boondocks See you don't even know me but you think these are my goals see I call this hash tag the struggle because nobody understands the trouble in being whole when you're given two halves that don't match to patch up one soul and you're born into a ****** up mess still expected to know and they tell you to ignore them all be yourself race should not define you but I can't even fill out two ******* boxes on a standardized test because you are only allowed to check ONE to describe you hash tag TheStruggle
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55
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers. When you kick me out, that's what I'll remember, Me, sitting here bored as a loepard In your jungle of wine-bottle lamps, Velvet pillows the color of blood pudding And the white china flying fish from Italy. I forget you, hearing the cut flowers Sipping their liquids from assorted pots, Pitchers and Coronation goblets Like Monday drunkards. The milky berries Bow down, a local constellation, Toward their admirers in the tabletop: Mobs of eyeballs looking up. Are those petals of leaves you've paried with them --- Those green-striped ovals of silver tissue? The red geraniums I know. Friends, friends. They stink of armpits And the invovled maladies of autumn, Musky as a lovebed the morning after. My nostrils prickle with nostalgia. Henna hags:cloth of your cloth. They tow old water thick as fog. The roses in the Toby jug Gave up the ghost last night. High time. Their yellow corsets were ready to split. You snored, and I heard the petals unlatch, Tapping and ticking like nervous fingers. You should have junked them before they died. Daybreak discovered the bureau lid Littered with Chinese hands. Now I'm stared at By chrysanthemums the size Of Holofernes' head, dipped in the same Magenta as this fubsy sofa. In the mirror their doubles back them up. Listen: your tenant mice Are rattling the ******* packets. Fine flour Muffles their bird feet: they whistle for joy. And you doze on, nose to the wall. This mizzle fits me like a sad jacket. How did we make it up to your attic? You handed me gin in a glass bud vase. We slept like stones. Lady, what am I doing With a lung full of dust and a tongue of wood, Knee-deep in the cold swamped by flowers?
0
14.7k
Sylvia Plath
Leaving Early
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers. When you kick me out, that's what I'll remember, Me, sitting here bored as a loepard In your jungle of wine-bottle lamps, Velvet pillows the color of blood pudding And the white china flying fish from Italy. I forget you, hearing the cut flowers Sipping their liquids from assorted pots, Pitchers and Coronation goblets Like Monday drunkards. The milky berries Bow down, a local constellation, Toward their admirers in the tabletop: Mobs of eyeballs looking up. Are those petals of leaves you've paried with them --- Those green-striped ovals of silver tissue? The red geraniums I know. Friends, friends. They stink of armpits And the invovled maladies of autumn, Musky as a lovebed the morning after. My nostrils prickle with nostalgia. Henna hags:cloth of your cloth. They tow old water thick as fog. The roses in the Toby jug Gave up the ghost last night. High time. Their yellow corsets were ready to split. You snored, and I heard the petals unlatch, Tapping and ticking like nervous fingers. You should have junked them before they died. Daybreak discovered the bureau lid Littered with Chinese hands. Now I'm stared at By chrysanthemums the size Of Holofernes' head, dipped in the same Magenta as this fubsy sofa. In the mirror their doubles back them up. Listen: your tenant mice Are rattling the ******* packets. Fine flour Muffles their bird feet: they whistle for joy. And you doze on, nose to the wall. This mizzle fits me like a sad jacket. How did we make it up to your attic? You handed me gin in a glass bud vase. We slept like stones. Lady, what am I doing With a lung full of dust and a tongue of wood, Knee-deep in the cold swamped by flowers?
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44
You ask me a query, You ask, "Where Are You, Honey?" I have an answer for you, I say, "I'm inside your heart, honey." You let it extend, your doubt, You implore, "But why is it so hazy?" I fire a ******* in response, I say, "It's hazy because you're lazy!" You smile but get perplexed by now, You ask, "Will you stay if moving on I fail to?" I am mature and couth, I say, "I find no reason good enough to not to." You wonder to yourself, You ask, "Where from I got you?" I remind you that I came back, I say, *"I consider it my responsibility to imbue your life with the brightness, The light lacking in your life, And to provide you with warmth, So that you are free from your shivers, And so that you can be my wife, I want to fill that void in your day, Maybe I was sent back only for you, On your mother's recommendation, And so wise was her receptivity, I know that I am a man of my words, Surely I will make it large for us, And you are such a hardworking lady, Our children will have it healthy, And they will surely have it wealthy, The wealth won't just be material, But they will be taught fine civility."* You now ask me your final query, You ask, "Who will be their tutor?" I smile and simply end this discussion, I say, "Obviously, me and you." Even you are satisfied by now, You smile & say, "I love you, honey." I hear what I have been longing to, I say with a broad smile, "I love you too, honey." ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆
0
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 11:11 PM UTC
Atul
My Answers To Your Queries
You ask me a query, You ask, "Where Are You, Honey?" I have an answer for you, I say, "I'm inside your heart, honey." You let it extend, your doubt, You implore, "But why is it so hazy?" I fire a ******* in response, I say, "It's hazy because you're lazy!" You smile but get perplexed by now, You ask, "Will you stay if moving on I fail to?" I am mature and couth, I say, "I find no reason good enough to not to." You wonder to yourself, You ask, "Where from I got you?" I remind you that I came back, I say, *"I consider it my responsibility to imbue your life with the brightness, The light lacking in your life, And to provide you with warmth, So that you are free from your shivers, And so that you can be my wife, I want to fill that void in your day, Maybe I was sent back only for you, On your mother's recommendation, And so wise was her receptivity, I know that I am a man of my words, Surely I will make it large for us, And you are such a hardworking lady, Our children will have it healthy, And they will surely have it wealthy, The wealth won't just be material, But they will be taught fine civility."* You now ask me your final query, You ask, "Who will be their tutor?" I smile and simply end this discussion, I say, "Obviously, me and you." Even you are satisfied by now, You smile & say, "I love you, honey." I hear what I have been longing to, I say with a broad smile, "I love you too, honey." ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆
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40
Minnehaha Park is hot in the summer Even by the water Who knew it would be so hot Even down by the water? But all of it is hot And there are acorns everywhere Scattered on the ground Below our butts as we try to sit And have a little picnic On a brightly checkered blanket Between two tall trees That tower above us And grant us shade While pelting acorns down Into our cheese and crackers And fancy rosé wine Whatever that means I thought wine was wine But I guess they have personalities Like people Like couples Some things pair well together Like my crisp pineapple and cheap fuckin' pizza Or your stinky blue cheese and weird cookie-like ******* Like us And the cheese sits on a green marble slab Elegant as **** Because that's just who you are But that marble slab sits on top of a pizza box Simple as **** Because that's just who I am And we pair well On this hot *** summer day While we drink rosé And "I love you" is all we say Because sometimes we don't have to say anything We're okay without words In the middle of a park On a hot *** summer day
0
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC
SerenePineapple
Minnehaha Park
Minnehaha Park is hot in the summer Even by the water Who knew it would be so hot Even down by the water? But all of it is hot And there are acorns everywhere Scattered on the ground Below our butts as we try to sit And have a little picnic On a brightly checkered blanket Between two tall trees That tower above us And grant us shade While pelting acorns down Into our cheese and crackers And fancy rosé wine Whatever that means I thought wine was wine But I guess they have personalities Like people Like couples Some things pair well together Like my crisp pineapple and cheap fuckin' pizza Or your stinky blue cheese and weird cookie-like ******* Like us And the cheese sits on a green marble slab Elegant as **** Because that's just who you are But that marble slab sits on top of a pizza box Simple as **** Because that's just who I am And we pair well On this hot *** summer day While we drink rosé And "I love you" is all we say Because sometimes we don't have to say anything We're okay without words In the middle of a park On a hot *** summer day
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39
my subject, mrs. ((brown?)) for this speech is going to be: obesity. ish. you see I remember the article you handed out to us, loos-leafed, fresh-pressed, a dry white piece that told, in simplest terms, the most inarguable & bland facts about !healthy eating & !weight loss! but mrs ((whatever)), I want to tell n and the entire ******* crisp class, that obesity is a load of steaming **** from someone who’s really fucki ng sick (you know how much better it stinks then) that obesity was made to be glorified, I don’t tell you this— I ****** jiggle it to you, grab my santa clause puch and shove it at you-- tick tock we wait for the clock to tell us what s to come, except it makes us guess --see this: a mid-age woman, mother, fat & previously fat, goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or chronic diarrhea, seeing stars & no energy left. ((this happens)) the doctor says, well let’s weigh you n see if you’ve lost the weight I told you to lose before remember Sharol now Sharol..,,,, sweety….. you weigh 55.62 lbs over the state-set “healthy limit”k, so we’re just gonna give u these diet pills & I promise they work,. all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that waterweight ******** [! excuse my language] and in about 3 months you’ll lose half that overweight, and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll feel right tip top okay now that’ll be $60 & come bac k in a month to tell me how much you’ve lost okay haha but that’s alrightright? she was unhealthy & doctors make you healthy only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon cancer or literally anything other obesity kills her in about 3 months bc the **** doctor would only pretend that she cared what was wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,, im sharol and so are you and so is your uncle & so is your mother, probably because most of us are “obese” & the only cure for obesity is the cure for the term “obesity” you see
0
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
clementzobel
Obesity
my subject, mrs. ((brown?)) for this speech is going to be: obesity. ish. you see I remember the article you handed out to us, loos-leafed, fresh-pressed, a dry white piece that told, in simplest terms, the most inarguable & bland facts about !healthy eating & !weight loss! but mrs ((whatever)), I want to tell n and the entire ******* crisp class, that obesity is a load of steaming **** from someone who’s really fucki ng sick (you know how much better it stinks then) that obesity was made to be glorified, I don’t tell you this— I ****** jiggle it to you, grab my santa clause puch and shove it at you-- tick tock we wait for the clock to tell us what s to come, except it makes us guess --see this: a mid-age woman, mother, fat & previously fat, goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or chronic diarrhea, seeing stars & no energy left. ((this happens)) the doctor says, well let’s weigh you n see if you’ve lost the weight I told you to lose before remember Sharol now Sharol..,,,, sweety….. you weigh 55.62 lbs over the state-set “healthy limit”k, so we’re just gonna give u these diet pills & I promise they work,. all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that waterweight ******** [! excuse my language] and in about 3 months you’ll lose half that overweight, and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll feel right tip top okay now that’ll be $60 & come bac k in a month to tell me how much you’ve lost okay haha but that’s alrightright? she was unhealthy & doctors make you healthy only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon cancer or literally anything other obesity kills her in about 3 months bc the **** doctor would only pretend that she cared what was wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,, im sharol and so are you and so is your uncle & so is your mother, probably because most of us are “obese” & the only cure for obesity is the cure for the term “obesity” you see
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74
this is a medical emergency ossified in utero part the hair to cover pink earwax scar innervated this cochlea this ******* that steals the spotlight and rooster’s comb braised sockets for teeth wired through the rafters kissing corner braces shallow chromium double-eye poke like a pile of face bones stacked paul bunyan forest slide and jump from the peak to the pool shallow and undisturbed to dunk your face and see future pure voodoo spirit board and voice box locked with tongue-ectomy removal of cough through neck hole cardboard cut stickers in half to write ***** I’m done.*
0
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
KingPanda
blood and guts folklore
this is a medical emergency ossified in utero part the hair to cover pink earwax scar innervated this cochlea this ******* that steals the spotlight and rooster’s comb braised sockets for teeth wired through the rafters kissing corner braces shallow chromium double-eye poke like a pile of face bones stacked paul bunyan forest slide and jump from the peak to the pool shallow and undisturbed to dunk your face and see future pure voodoo spirit board and voice box locked with tongue-ectomy removal of cough through neck hole cardboard cut stickers in half to write ***** I’m done.*
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17
they say you're terrifying scorpio I think you're stagnant and not in the mouldy water way you're a mountain always there looming above they say you're intense scorpio and i know you love intensely and hate intensely and find nothing in between you're ongoing and everything pulling the world towards you you're not mine scorpio and I don't know if I want you to be but I think we'd work born with the moon in scorpio I was and i'm a little bit you and i'm not sure if it's that or that i'm a little bit not you that makes this a fire ******* You're definitely a fire scorpio even though they say you're water I'm an air sign even though I know i'm earth I guess in another world you'd set fire to me but in this world I'm only rippling your surface bubbling up to the top of you and you can't bother to set me alight it's okay though we're a firecracker either way
0
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
n-t
born with the moon in scorpio
they say you're terrifying scorpio I think you're stagnant and not in the mouldy water way you're a mountain always there looming above they say you're intense scorpio and i know you love intensely and hate intensely and find nothing in between you're ongoing and everything pulling the world towards you you're not mine scorpio and I don't know if I want you to be but I think we'd work born with the moon in scorpio I was and i'm a little bit you and i'm not sure if it's that or that i'm a little bit not you that makes this a fire ******* You're definitely a fire scorpio even though they say you're water I'm an air sign even though I know i'm earth I guess in another world you'd set fire to me but in this world I'm only rippling your surface bubbling up to the top of you and you can't bother to set me alight it's okay though we're a firecracker either way
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31
They say having good friends is like winning the lottery, Well who gave me a fake winning ticket? Every friend that comes and goes is just a mockery, Of my undying kindness even for those who don’t return it. Is it dumb to believe in the phrase “Best friends forever”, Or am I just stuck in my 2002 kindergarten playground? People seem to drop me like a bird sheds a feather, And I am unwillingly isolated by the time I am found. I was not aware that friends were like snacks in a vending machine, Picked and chosen when it is most convenient for you. I guess I am the little pack of crackers stuck in between, The chips and the Mountain Dew. God forbid that machine runs out chips and drinks, Because then you may have to settle for my boring ******* *** And maybe for once it actually won’t be a jinx, But it’s too late I am no longer a convenience so I shall pass.
0
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
maxine-robbins
Friendship
They say having good friends is like winning the lottery, Well who gave me a fake winning ticket? Every friend that comes and goes is just a mockery, Of my undying kindness even for those who don’t return it. Is it dumb to believe in the phrase “Best friends forever”, Or am I just stuck in my 2002 kindergarten playground? People seem to drop me like a bird sheds a feather, And I am unwillingly isolated by the time I am found. I was not aware that friends were like snacks in a vending machine, Picked and chosen when it is most convenient for you. I guess I am the little pack of crackers stuck in between, The chips and the Mountain Dew. God forbid that machine runs out chips and drinks, Because then you may have to settle for my boring ******* *** And maybe for once it actually won’t be a jinx, But it’s too late I am no longer a convenience so I shall pass.
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16
Constitution pollution: the constable ruining the ******* consecration A soluble solution: grape sipping blood letting to fully bless the humors
0
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
cecelia-francis
Constitution pollution
Constitution pollution: the constable ruining the ******* consecration A soluble solution: grape sipping blood letting to fully bless the humors
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7
If she studies you with that particular look, and you know the one I'm indicating. Kick off your shoes and glide across the floor towards your loved one. Place your palm firmly on the back of her neck and your other at center mass. With your lips pressed firmly against hers, open her mouth and clean her teeth, stroke her taste buds, feel her heat and free your minds together as one exploding fire ******* soaring vertically with the sporadic curvature of the bottle rocket. Don't stop there, you've got her. She wants you to take complete control. Push her with gentle pressure against the nearest wall and allow progression. Fuse her neckline with your bite and move south to utilize her forearms and thighs. All the while you've cupped her **** cheeks like palming a basketball. From there on, use the organic passion that comes from within. She's giving herself to you. She will not hold this against you. On the contrary, this memorable concession of unbiased surrender is a gift, from your other to you. When it comes to a woman's love, these are some of the best times that you will be offered. Keep desire on fire and make your way to completion together. This recollection you guys are developing will hold years of reminiscence.
0
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
JudLove
This timeless glare transmission
If she studies you with that particular look, and you know the one I'm indicating. Kick off your shoes and glide across the floor towards your loved one. Place your palm firmly on the back of her neck and your other at center mass. With your lips pressed firmly against hers, open her mouth and clean her teeth, stroke her taste buds, feel her heat and free your minds together as one exploding fire ******* soaring vertically with the sporadic curvature of the bottle rocket. Don't stop there, you've got her. She wants you to take complete control. Push her with gentle pressure against the nearest wall and allow progression. Fuse her neckline with your bite and move south to utilize her forearms and thighs. All the while you've cupped her **** cheeks like palming a basketball. From there on, use the organic passion that comes from within. She's giving herself to you. She will not hold this against you. On the contrary, this memorable concession of unbiased surrender is a gift, from your other to you. When it comes to a woman's love, these are some of the best times that you will be offered. Keep desire on fire and make your way to completion together. This recollection you guys are developing will hold years of reminiscence.
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5
Decorate this Diwali with the depth of relations, Not with the height of decibels in explosions. Let's spread the fragrance of mutual joy and laughter, It's unfair to pollute with the smoke of ******* Let's make noise together when our country shines, Let's not annoy the neighbors with the unwanted sounds. Let's scatter the light of love and care, Let's illuminate the heart's with concern and share! Let's respect the five valuable gifts of nature, Freely available are fire- water-earth-space-air! Volunteer for safety health and friendliess, In this way "HAPPY DIWALI" makes a true sense!
0
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
jayantee
Happy Diwali
Decorate this Diwali with the depth of relations, Not with the height of decibels in explosions. Let's spread the fragrance of mutual joy and laughter, It's unfair to pollute with the smoke of ******* Let's make noise together when our country shines, Let's not annoy the neighbors with the unwanted sounds. Let's scatter the light of love and care, Let's illuminate the heart's with concern and share! Let's respect the five valuable gifts of nature, Freely available are fire- water-earth-space-air! Volunteer for safety health and friendliess, In this way "HAPPY DIWALI" makes a true sense!
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24
What am I? I am not White. I am not Black. I am not Hispanic or Asian or Native American. I am a Human Being. What am I? I am not a Christian. I am not a Satanist. I am not Jewish or Muslim, or Hindu. I am a Human Being. What am I? I am not a Racist. I am not a Sexist. I am not a ****** or a ***** or a ******* I am a Human Being. What am I? I am not a Number. I am not a Sheep. I am not a Folder or a Report or a Profile. I am a Human Being. What am I? I am my Mind. I am my Heart. I am my Soul. I Am. What are You?
0
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
dustin-postlewait
I Am
What am I? I am not White. I am not Black. I am not Hispanic or Asian or Native American. I am a Human Being. What am I? I am not a Christian. I am not a Satanist. I am not Jewish or Muslim, or Hindu. I am a Human Being. What am I? I am not a Racist. I am not a Sexist. I am not a ****** or a ***** or a ******* I am a Human Being. What am I? I am not a Number. I am not a Sheep. I am not a Folder or a Report or a Profile. I am a Human Being. What am I? I am my Mind. I am my Heart. I am my Soul. I Am. What are You?
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26
Every year at Christmas The tree goes by the wall I drag the **** thing from downstairs And I tug it down the hall The lights go up with tinsel The ornaments and star Then I go downstairs and knock one back Behind my little two tap bar I've done it now for forty years Each year, the tree and lights The tinsel and the ornaments To brighten up the nights The cards I get go on the wall No baking do I do I go downstairs and have a drink Sometimes I might have two The kids, not here, they have their lives I get a call on Christmas Day It's far to far to come out here And there's just no room to stay The boys have hockey, the girls as well So they won't be coming soon They play their first game at three So I get their phone call right at noon I put my little Cornish hen In the oven for my meal I've got some frozen veggies And a Christmas ******* for the "feel" I sit alone at Christmas I watch the telly, have a beer It's not the same with out you It's not Christmas, you're not here Still every year the tree comes out I put it where you'd say We'd move it at least fifteen times Until it found a place to stay I drag the decorations out I've not yet bought something new I'm here alone at Christmas With my memories spent with you.
0
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
roger-turner
Alone at Christmas (repost)
Every year at Christmas The tree goes by the wall I drag the **** thing from downstairs And I tug it down the hall The lights go up with tinsel The ornaments and star Then I go downstairs and knock one back Behind my little two tap bar I've done it now for forty years Each year, the tree and lights The tinsel and the ornaments To brighten up the nights The cards I get go on the wall No baking do I do I go downstairs and have a drink Sometimes I might have two The kids, not here, they have their lives I get a call on Christmas Day It's far to far to come out here And there's just no room to stay The boys have hockey, the girls as well So they won't be coming soon They play their first game at three So I get their phone call right at noon I put my little Cornish hen In the oven for my meal I've got some frozen veggies And a Christmas ******* for the "feel" I sit alone at Christmas I watch the telly, have a beer It's not the same with out you It's not Christmas, you're not here Still every year the tree comes out I put it where you'd say We'd move it at least fifteen times Until it found a place to stay I drag the decorations out I've not yet bought something new I'm here alone at Christmas With my memories spent with you.
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40
.simone biles (the gymnast)...                  miles davis (the trumpet guy)...      must be black privilege; wasn't there a movie... starring woody harrelson and wesley snipes? you sure? i thought it was called: white men can't jump... sure as **** ****** can sing church gospel! how's that for privilege?     if you're going to culturally box, and repeatedly punch below the belt... you're quiet likely going to get a reaction... i have an acne wart growing on my *** the size of a cauliflower, it's itchy my brain, it's differentiating between agitate and: lying back... i guess the excess of... look... you may have the excess melanin...     i have lactose tolerance... we're even?!    no?   so how come some smurf, some European hobbit shackle your N.B.A. Goliath(s)?! explain that one to me... if these people were so cock-unsure... how they **** did they tame the Zulu Apache Goliath bodybuilders?!   what the **** i already said, and it was proven... IQ... i don't like it...      but i'm pretty sure that the whites **** more people in terrorist attacks than... camel-jockeys...          it took 3 or over three... to perform the Bataclan Massacre... three... the third of the IQ that required a Breivik...    130 in France... dissociated among 3 attackers that gorged on testicles after the spree... fun, fun fun fun... like: you're trying to say that without irony...     and how many in Norway?     77... i only look at the IQ of killers... so... what's the ratio?     77 / 1    130 / 3 = 43...          like i said... low IQ...               you really want your little racial insurrection? you'll have it, don't worry.. i'll just the narrative...   must be black privy... if you can mash up a jazz compos., right?                 crackers read from a prepared script... you ******* just, "improvise"...           rapping contra talking... **** come to think of it... ******* boys took it too far from your Oreos...            like... too much drums... not enough wind, or strings... too much drumming... pulverizing the ears with drum & bass and what not... if i wasn't deaf prior, i'm deaf by now; ******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops boy; same **** different cover.
0
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
you want war, you'll have your war: came an Oreo for every *******
.simone biles (the gymnast)...                  miles davis (the trumpet guy)...      must be black privilege; wasn't there a movie... starring woody harrelson and wesley snipes? you sure? i thought it was called: white men can't jump... sure as **** ****** can sing church gospel! how's that for privilege?     if you're going to culturally box, and repeatedly punch below the belt... you're quiet likely going to get a reaction... i have an acne wart growing on my *** the size of a cauliflower, it's itchy my brain, it's differentiating between agitate and: lying back... i guess the excess of... look... you may have the excess melanin...     i have lactose tolerance... we're even?!    no?   so how come some smurf, some European hobbit shackle your N.B.A. Goliath(s)?! explain that one to me... if these people were so cock-unsure... how they **** did they tame the Zulu Apache Goliath bodybuilders?!   what the **** i already said, and it was proven... IQ... i don't like it...      but i'm pretty sure that the whites **** more people in terrorist attacks than... camel-jockeys...          it took 3 or over three... to perform the Bataclan Massacre... three... the third of the IQ that required a Breivik...    130 in France... dissociated among 3 attackers that gorged on testicles after the spree... fun, fun fun fun... like: you're trying to say that without irony...     and how many in Norway?     77... i only look at the IQ of killers... so... what's the ratio?     77 / 1    130 / 3 = 43...          like i said... low IQ...               you really want your little racial insurrection? you'll have it, don't worry.. i'll just the narrative...   must be black privy... if you can mash up a jazz compos., right?                 crackers read from a prepared script... you ******* just, "improvise"...           rapping contra talking... **** come to think of it... ******* boys took it too far from your Oreos...            like... too much drums... not enough wind, or strings... too much drumming... pulverizing the ears with drum & bass and what not... if i wasn't deaf prior, i'm deaf by now; ******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops boy; same **** different cover.
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Mistletoe with berries red chestnuts roasting, kids in bed glass of eggnog cheeky kiss how I live for times like this wrapping done and stockings filled brandy warmed and champagne chilled baking done put up our feet and sip the drips from lips so sweet turkey thawed ready to roast cards all sent by last nights post treats left out for old St Nick but maybe add a carrot thick snowman built and robins fed so now my love it's time for bed midnight bells and wicked grin as one last glass of port and gin maybe dear before they rise you could unwrap just one surprise if you can't find it Neath the tree then maybe baby. your gifts me so Merry Christmas all my friends as with a bang this poem now ends xx<3xx
0
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
dieingembers
Pulling a *******
Mistletoe with berries red chestnuts roasting, kids in bed glass of eggnog cheeky kiss how I live for times like this wrapping done and stockings filled brandy warmed and champagne chilled baking done put up our feet and sip the drips from lips so sweet turkey thawed ready to roast cards all sent by last nights post treats left out for old St Nick but maybe add a carrot thick snowman built and robins fed so now my love it's time for bed midnight bells and wicked grin as one last glass of port and gin maybe dear before they rise you could unwrap just one surprise if you can't find it Neath the tree then maybe baby. your gifts me so Merry Christmas all my friends as with a bang this poem now ends xx<3xx
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23
He was only three foot tall, but He wanted to be like his Famous daddy "The pirate" long  bob Plated Silver Toe A renowned pirate or so He told me. So he looked around the house to what he could find, A hook was out of reach As it was dangerous you know, it could take an eye out or if trod on cut your toes, He would have defiantly have shed a Tear Or Three, So he found a spoon, not Gold or Silver Not plated precious, It was copper it would have to do. So he put his hand up his sleeve, Holding the spoon quite Menacingly, I'll scoop your ice cream From right under your nose, One scoop, Two scoop, Three, "Ill bounce the bowl upon your head" "Then run so you never knows it was me" "Who had eaten your desert from" "Right under your nose you see" He giggled and smiled a child's grin, What next does a pirate need to be "King of the sea" A hat he thought, As he looked around his fathers hats Covered his head, He walked in to Table & Chair, For it was to big over his eyes, He was unable to see. He bounced Off the door, the bed, the Window sill too, with holes cut he still Was unable to see properly, So he got a sock with a patch on the heal Putting it on his little head looked in the mirror amused By what could be seen. I need one more thing To be like me pa.. A ship to sail the high sea, But he was only tiny 3 foot tall was he, So he looked around Finding a table in the yard, Discarded but could be used by he. "A sail was needed" A table cloth tied to the back legs To catch the gusts of wind yar see, A crew was needed?? But there was only room for Him And his parrot Reginald, ******* *******   He would squawk at me, A I dry one given and a pat on the Head from me. I was known as a captain on My Green Sea, Plundering the apple tree The raspberry bush All the berries were now mine That I could see, I wanted to be like my father when I grew up But lets be realistic I'm three foot "I'm four and three months" Who would be scared of little spoon pirate me.
0
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
poetic-t
Little Captain Spoon
He was only three foot tall, but He wanted to be like his Famous daddy "The pirate" long  bob Plated Silver Toe A renowned pirate or so He told me. So he looked around the house to what he could find, A hook was out of reach As it was dangerous you know, it could take an eye out or if trod on cut your toes, He would have defiantly have shed a Tear Or Three, So he found a spoon, not Gold or Silver Not plated precious, It was copper it would have to do. So he put his hand up his sleeve, Holding the spoon quite Menacingly, I'll scoop your ice cream From right under your nose, One scoop, Two scoop, Three, "Ill bounce the bowl upon your head" "Then run so you never knows it was me" "Who had eaten your desert from" "Right under your nose you see" He giggled and smiled a child's grin, What next does a pirate need to be "King of the sea" A hat he thought, As he looked around his fathers hats Covered his head, He walked in to Table & Chair, For it was to big over his eyes, He was unable to see. He bounced Off the door, the bed, the Window sill too, with holes cut he still Was unable to see properly, So he got a sock with a patch on the heal Putting it on his little head looked in the mirror amused By what could be seen. I need one more thing To be like me pa.. A ship to sail the high sea, But he was only tiny 3 foot tall was he, So he looked around Finding a table in the yard, Discarded but could be used by he. "A sail was needed" A table cloth tied to the back legs To catch the gusts of wind yar see, A crew was needed?? But there was only room for Him And his parrot Reginald, ******* *******   He would squawk at me, A I dry one given and a pat on the Head from me. I was known as a captain on My Green Sea, Plundering the apple tree The raspberry bush All the berries were now mine That I could see, I wanted to be like my father when I grew up But lets be realistic I'm three foot "I'm four and three months" Who would be scared of little spoon pirate me.
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I look at you and melt. This feeling, before never felt. I taste you with my eyes. Like ******* Jack you hide the prize. You are to me like sweets. The kind you lick, and **** and eat. A tootsie lolipop. And in the center- a gumdrop. When I see you I drool. Sometimes you make me act the fool. Your words are honey-dipped, Remind me of when nectar drips. Caramel Marshmellow pie, Your sugar shock, it gets me high. Your mouth's a chocolate kiss, Hershey's aint gat nothing on this. You're sweeter than desert, The best desert on earth. The kind that I want all the time, Until my belly hurts.
0
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 8:41 AM UTC
norris-rolle
Sweetness
I look at you and melt. This feeling, before never felt. I taste you with my eyes. Like ******* Jack you hide the prize. You are to me like sweets. The kind you lick, and **** and eat. A tootsie lolipop. And in the center- a gumdrop. When I see you I drool. Sometimes you make me act the fool. Your words are honey-dipped, Remind me of when nectar drips. Caramel Marshmellow pie, Your sugar shock, it gets me high. Your mouth's a chocolate kiss, Hershey's aint gat nothing on this. You're sweeter than desert, The best desert on earth. The kind that I want all the time, Until my belly hurts.
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20
Melted marshmallow Kisses And Hershey hugs Are what you’re made of A smore delight A part of my desperate appetite You starve me And turn into A cheater A liar A schemer Graham ******* smiles crumble Your kiss My mouth Diseased with regrets A loss of innocence A stolen breath Poisoned my heart Sugar coated truths gave me the stomach flu But I still love you Because I can’t stop thinking of... Your Marshmallow kisses And all the sweet things You used to be made of.
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May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 3:43 AM UTC
jacqueline-ivascu
Graham ******* Smiles
Melted marshmallow Kisses And Hershey hugs Are what you’re made of A smore delight A part of my desperate appetite You starve me And turn into A cheater A liar A schemer Graham ******* smiles crumble Your kiss My mouth Diseased with regrets A loss of innocence A stolen breath Poisoned my heart Sugar coated truths gave me the stomach flu But I still love you Because I can’t stop thinking of... Your Marshmallow kisses And all the sweet things You used to be made of.
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26
Why don't you eat? Simple question, right? You'd expect a simple answer that's not what you did though. So, why don't I eat? I'm tired, I'm tired of not feeling good enough. I'm tired of looking like this. I'm tired of wanting to be one of those skinny ones. When you look at me what do you see? I see myself and I see fat. I see not good enough. I see not skinny enough. I see ugly. So why is it that I don't eat? I want to lose weight. I want to be one of the skinny ones. I want to fit in. I want someone to notice how much weight I'm losing. I want someone to notice me. You eat and think nothing of it. I eat and I think about how I'm going to have to work it all off. How I must get rid of it, I must not eat, how it's not worth it. So, I don't eat. I say I'm not hungry, in my head I say I'm not good enough. I step on the scale and see as lost weight. I get happy, it doesn't last though. I want to lose more. I go days without eating trying to lose weight, I pass by mirrors and keep my head down, afraid to see how I look. Afraid to see I'm not losing weight fast enough. I eat something small and feel guilty, thinking something small will only make me gain weight. There are days when I want to eat, I want to give up and eat a huge meal. I have to get past the urges. Telling myself that I don't need to eat. A ******* here and a ******* there, a glass of water to keep myself alive. I run into my body hurts, until I can't breathe. As the days go by my body gets weaker and weaker, it gets harder to focus, I wake in the middle of the night wanting food. I tell myself I don't need it. I tell myself that losing weight is worth more than food. So, why don't I eat?
0
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
MaxTate
Inside the mind of an anorexic
Why don't you eat? Simple question, right? You'd expect a simple answer that's not what you did though. So, why don't I eat? I'm tired, I'm tired of not feeling good enough. I'm tired of looking like this. I'm tired of wanting to be one of those skinny ones. When you look at me what do you see? I see myself and I see fat. I see not good enough. I see not skinny enough. I see ugly. So why is it that I don't eat? I want to lose weight. I want to be one of the skinny ones. I want to fit in. I want someone to notice how much weight I'm losing. I want someone to notice me. You eat and think nothing of it. I eat and I think about how I'm going to have to work it all off. How I must get rid of it, I must not eat, how it's not worth it. So, I don't eat. I say I'm not hungry, in my head I say I'm not good enough. I step on the scale and see as lost weight. I get happy, it doesn't last though. I want to lose more. I go days without eating trying to lose weight, I pass by mirrors and keep my head down, afraid to see how I look. Afraid to see I'm not losing weight fast enough. I eat something small and feel guilty, thinking something small will only make me gain weight. There are days when I want to eat, I want to give up and eat a huge meal. I have to get past the urges. Telling myself that I don't need to eat. A ******* here and a ******* there, a glass of water to keep myself alive. I run into my body hurts, until I can't breathe. As the days go by my body gets weaker and weaker, it gets harder to focus, I wake in the middle of the night wanting food. I tell myself I don't need it. I tell myself that losing weight is worth more than food. So, why don't I eat?
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38
Where is my Campbell Soup Can? My Candy Darling, Edie Sedgewick, my "Factory"? I was promised 15 minutes, it said so on the box, on the manual of life, now where is it? Did I pass it? Dismiss it? Was it at the bottom of the ******* Jack box I so carelessly tossed aside? I think not. I think it does not exist, and therefore I think Andy failed me. Andy lied.
0
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
UnopenedPackage
Andy Lied
Where is my Campbell Soup Can? My Candy Darling, Edie Sedgewick, my "Factory"? I was promised 15 minutes, it said so on the box, on the manual of life, now where is it? Did I pass it? Dismiss it? Was it at the bottom of the ******* Jack box I so carelessly tossed aside? I think not. I think it does not exist, and therefore I think Andy failed me. Andy lied.
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5
maple-cured, smoked, rawhide hands, tarantula hands bulldozing rice onto tines like an icebreaker ramming through glacial bergs, Holly Golightly on the tv, on mute, and oh those hips, that figure, in that black dress, banana hands cracking Alaskan king crablegs and ******* the juice and eating the meat, legs spindly and hairy and soaked in butter, dripping, liver cooking, roasting, sloshed on gin, cribbage board patinaed in dust, he eats his liver, downs another gin, cracks another leg, crab hair caught in his teeth, Holly talking about getting the mean reds but he can’t hear it, his luck run out, his luck a prize from a box of ******* Jack, and the snarling throb in his head, cinderblock face, cinderblock house, 3-day-stubble, has he had enough (to drink)? not by the stubble of his chinny-chin-chin, liver is gone, crab is gone, so he eats the eyes, dowsing his ******* Jacks in gin, yesterday wine-in-a-box and Cheez-Whiz, sprayed right into his unbrushed maw, a one-person wine- and-cheese fête classy as it gets, he’s Mister High Society, Cheez-Whiz crust in his stubble, and a cinderblock CRASHES to the floor and it’s lights out, and Holly, still no one to hear her, saying she’ll never let anyone put her in a cage.
0
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
mike-jewett
******* jacks & gin (Dinner at Tiffany’s)
maple-cured, smoked, rawhide hands, tarantula hands bulldozing rice onto tines like an icebreaker ramming through glacial bergs, Holly Golightly on the tv, on mute, and oh those hips, that figure, in that black dress, banana hands cracking Alaskan king crablegs and ******* the juice and eating the meat, legs spindly and hairy and soaked in butter, dripping, liver cooking, roasting, sloshed on gin, cribbage board patinaed in dust, he eats his liver, downs another gin, cracks another leg, crab hair caught in his teeth, Holly talking about getting the mean reds but he can’t hear it, his luck run out, his luck a prize from a box of ******* Jack, and the snarling throb in his head, cinderblock face, cinderblock house, 3-day-stubble, has he had enough (to drink)? not by the stubble of his chinny-chin-chin, liver is gone, crab is gone, so he eats the eyes, dowsing his ******* Jacks in gin, yesterday wine-in-a-box and Cheez-Whiz, sprayed right into his unbrushed maw, a one-person wine- and-cheese fête classy as it gets, he’s Mister High Society, Cheez-Whiz crust in his stubble, and a cinderblock CRASHES to the floor and it’s lights out, and Holly, still no one to hear her, saying she’ll never let anyone put her in a cage.
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37
the night of the fake dead has become eternal (i will wear Susan Lucci's face for it) staggering through excesses unknown and the uncertainty of this ranking system, you tried to eat my earlobe but lost interest in it quickly. your scent safe in this butterfly net, i am surrounded by the murderous howls of your perennial buttercups, determined to tempt my animal ******* instincts.      (enuma elish la nabu shamamu)      (shapiltu ammatum shuma la zakrat) i have tripped in the garden of Eve's desire and felt torrents across my cheeks of alternating salt and sugar-sweet nectar. i have held the red locks of wort and danced on the blossom-littered ground in remembrance of wandered attention.      (When in the heights heaven had not been named)      (and below, firm ground had not been called...) i have wept in the shadow of Adam's twin towers and seen the rift between the continents ebb and fall under silence's blanket. i have leathered my skin under this star to defend my eyes and tongue from the bite of the turtle goddess. i have seen the feast of the water, devouring the naked soil of Pangea, and tasted its salt with my eyes. i have undertaken the toil of the shaduf, churning mud and planting seeds for the return of the floral messiah.      (Amaru baur rata)      (Shagane Ir Imshi) i have borne the yoke of the oxen and reaped stalks of wheat in the summer's first harvest i have broken bread with companions under starlight mixed embers glowing log light orange dynamo      (The Flood swept thereover)      (His heart was filled with tears) Will you scream for me? Can you profess the holiness of my mission? My name, my motif, echoes across the ages... Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq! In the end we are called upon by stronger forces, blank expressions, glassy eyes Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq! the cold of the world's knife, pressed against the flesh of our selves, unconscious rhythm heartbeat pounding twisted sense rhumba of a thousand tiny shards Siaynoq! Call me to a greater purpose Siaynoq! Spill my blood across the sand
0
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
derek-yohn
The Creation of Man
the night of the fake dead has become eternal (i will wear Susan Lucci's face for it) staggering through excesses unknown and the uncertainty of this ranking system, you tried to eat my earlobe but lost interest in it quickly. your scent safe in this butterfly net, i am surrounded by the murderous howls of your perennial buttercups, determined to tempt my animal ******* instincts.      (enuma elish la nabu shamamu)      (shapiltu ammatum shuma la zakrat) i have tripped in the garden of Eve's desire and felt torrents across my cheeks of alternating salt and sugar-sweet nectar. i have held the red locks of wort and danced on the blossom-littered ground in remembrance of wandered attention.      (When in the heights heaven had not been named)      (and below, firm ground had not been called...) i have wept in the shadow of Adam's twin towers and seen the rift between the continents ebb and fall under silence's blanket. i have leathered my skin under this star to defend my eyes and tongue from the bite of the turtle goddess. i have seen the feast of the water, devouring the naked soil of Pangea, and tasted its salt with my eyes. i have undertaken the toil of the shaduf, churning mud and planting seeds for the return of the floral messiah.      (Amaru baur rata)      (Shagane Ir Imshi) i have borne the yoke of the oxen and reaped stalks of wheat in the summer's first harvest i have broken bread with companions under starlight mixed embers glowing log light orange dynamo      (The Flood swept thereover)      (His heart was filled with tears) Will you scream for me? Can you profess the holiness of my mission? My name, my motif, echoes across the ages... Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq! In the end we are called upon by stronger forces, blank expressions, glassy eyes Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq! the cold of the world's knife, pressed against the flesh of our selves, unconscious rhythm heartbeat pounding twisted sense rhumba of a thousand tiny shards Siaynoq! Call me to a greater purpose Siaynoq! Spill my blood across the sand
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64
●^●                                                                                                                         Mistletoe with berries red, chestnuts roasting, kids in bed.                             Glass of eggnog,cheeky kiss, how I live for times like this!                                Wrapping done, and stockings filled, brandy warmed                         and champagne chilled. Baking done, put up our                 feet, and sip the drips from lips so sweet x        Turkey thawed, ready to roast. Cards       all sent by last nights post. Treats left out for old St Nick, but maybe add a carrot, quick! Snowman built, and robins fed. So now hush my love, it's time for bed. Midnight bells, and wicked grin, as one last glass of port and gin.    Maybe, dear, before they rise         you could unwrap just one surprise?                        If you can't find it 'neath the tree, then maybe,                                   baby, your gift's ME! So Merry Christmas, all                                                  my friends, as with a bang                                                    this poem now                                                      ends                                                      x
0
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
linda-1
Pulling A ******* (reworked for DE)
●^●                                                                                                                         Mistletoe with berries red, chestnuts roasting, kids in bed.                             Glass of eggnog,cheeky kiss, how I live for times like this!                                Wrapping done, and stockings filled, brandy warmed                         and champagne chilled. Baking done, put up our                 feet, and sip the drips from lips so sweet x        Turkey thawed, ready to roast. Cards       all sent by last nights post. Treats left out for old St Nick, but maybe add a carrot, quick! Snowman built, and robins fed. So now hush my love, it's time for bed. Midnight bells, and wicked grin, as one last glass of port and gin.    Maybe, dear, before they rise         you could unwrap just one surprise?                        If you can't find it 'neath the tree, then maybe,                                   baby, your gift's ME! So Merry Christmas, all                                                  my friends, as with a bang                                                    this poem now                                                      ends                                                      x
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25
in the pit I'll visit tonight with her said the yellow ******* of cordial and skylight in Monserrat  she ought to treasure my Abacab with séance with her quilt of resilience that she'll muddle
0
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 11:21 AM UTC
poetman
a blue daiquiri
in the pit I'll visit tonight with her said the yellow ******* of cordial and skylight in Monserrat  she ought to treasure my Abacab with séance with her quilt of resilience that she'll muddle
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