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"criteria" poems
Our parents are always telling us , you have to go to school, that you'll learn everything you need to know before you're ready for the big world, and that'll you need it to get into your dream job But now a days our education isn't about learning, its about passing Our education now isn't the same as it used to be It teaches us that if you're not at a certain grade level, you will not succeed That if you don't meet a certain criteria, maybe you're not for fit the course This education system doesn't teach us whats really important for the big world It doesn't teach us how to live, how to do taxes or how to survive It never taught us the living expenses or how to buy a home Never taught us what to expect once we leave for college or how to balance our schedules No. It only taught us homework, about a plant cell, about tangents and circumferences It taught us that homework is more important than family That it's more important than being a kid and having a life It taught us that if you spend time with loved once and didn't do your work, you're setting yourself up for failure They pile us with work it feels like we cant breath They never once thought of the other class assignments that must be due not even 24 hours later They make us memorise things that will no longer be important when we apply for a job We study for hours in hopes to pass that final test that we'll soon forget But what are we suppose to say when someone asks us how we're feeling? We were never taught that We never memorised an equation to help us find the answer We were only ever taught to keep our mouths shut and do our work Its quite funny what we learn in school now Things more than 80% of the students will never have to use let alone see again School was suppose to prepare us for our future For the job choice we pick Instead we meet and learned quadratics and plant cells We were taught homework is what your focus should always be on We were never taught about the future and what to do And most importantly We were never taught how to love ourselves and the things we should be greatful for They've turn us into sad, mindless robots that's are more concerned about grades and passing than whats going on with the family We lock ourselves in our rooms doing homework for 6 hours than talking to our mothers or fathers who wonder about us We were never taught the importance of family before it was too late Every single highschool student wishes they can turn back the clocks, but it'll never work We were taught the hard way that you don't really know what you have until its gone Something we weren't prepared for They never prepared us for the future Instead, we prepare our self for the possible failing outcome How are we suppose to make a living for ourselves when all we have learned was the stress over homework and family? The depression over a failed test or assignment? The lost feeling of the lost time? How are we suppose to love ourselves when all we do is put yourself down because of school? This education system never prepared us for anything Instead, this education system officially has broken all of us.
0
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
Our Broken Education System
Our parents are always telling us , you have to go to school, that you'll learn everything you need to know before you're ready for the big world, and that'll you need it to get into your dream job But now a days our education isn't about learning, its about passing Our education now isn't the same as it used to be It teaches us that if you're not at a certain grade level, you will not succeed That if you don't meet a certain criteria, maybe you're not for fit the course This education system doesn't teach us whats really important for the big world It doesn't teach us how to live, how to do taxes or how to survive It never taught us the living expenses or how to buy a home Never taught us what to expect once we leave for college or how to balance our schedules No. It only taught us homework, about a plant cell, about tangents and circumferences It taught us that homework is more important than family That it's more important than being a kid and having a life It taught us that if you spend time with loved once and didn't do your work, you're setting yourself up for failure They pile us with work it feels like we cant breath They never once thought of the other class assignments that must be due not even 24 hours later They make us memorise things that will no longer be important when we apply for a job We study for hours in hopes to pass that final test that we'll soon forget But what are we suppose to say when someone asks us how we're feeling? We were never taught that We never memorised an equation to help us find the answer We were only ever taught to keep our mouths shut and do our work Its quite funny what we learn in school now Things more than 80% of the students will never have to use let alone see again School was suppose to prepare us for our future For the job choice we pick Instead we meet and learned quadratics and plant cells We were taught homework is what your focus should always be on We were never taught about the future and what to do And most importantly We were never taught how to love ourselves and the things we should be greatful for They've turn us into sad, mindless robots that's are more concerned about grades and passing than whats going on with the family We lock ourselves in our rooms doing homework for 6 hours than talking to our mothers or fathers who wonder about us We were never taught the importance of family before it was too late Every single highschool student wishes they can turn back the clocks, but it'll never work We were taught the hard way that you don't really know what you have until its gone Something we weren't prepared for They never prepared us for the future Instead, we prepare our self for the possible failing outcome How are we suppose to make a living for ourselves when all we have learned was the stress over homework and family? The depression over a failed test or assignment? The lost feeling of the lost time? How are we suppose to love ourselves when all we do is put yourself down because of school? This education system never prepared us for anything Instead, this education system officially has broken all of us.
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44
The freckles on your face blend your skin in a blanket of unique criteria
0
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
Freckles
Your tall body has always enticed me Your long arms have kept me safe Your scruffy beard makes me smile And your smile makes me melt Your hands hold mine and make me feel loved And wipe away the tears Enough of these superficial reasons Your love has comforted me Your humor has made me laugh (Until I snort) Your words have made smile And cry But always out of love Your generosity Has never left me empty handed No matter how much I beg you To keep your money for yourself Your caring heart reminds me I'm not alone Somehow you stopped the shaking trembling in my anxious thoughts You brought me back to reality You stopped me from dying You stopped me from hurting myself You stopped me from starving From expelling the contents of my stomach But most of all you gave me hope A reason to carry on A reason to fight my mind To tell the mirror it's a liar To throw my blades away And eat whatever I want A reason to keep living And to love myself I know you don't feel good enough But look at all this evidence Change the criteria in your head The requirement of "good enough" Should only contain one thing You All you have to be is you To be good enough for me Because I ******* love you
0
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Winky McGee
accept your personality except when you dont meet the criteria accept your body except if it doesnt look like the photoshopped models accept your clothing style except if it doesnt fit into the listed categories accept your weight except if its not in the doctors average range chart accept your loss except if it starts to bring others down too accept yourself except if you dont then i will
0
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
accept//except
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum Nails hammered into wood And trash strewn on the floor I couldn't help thinking What the **** is this **** These can't be the champions of modern art Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective The theater is fine Music is there for those inclined to discover it So what about visual art? I know a few things for certain Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy Trash is not art Trash is trash Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty I will concede that Beauty can be found in everything Depending on analyzation variation But those that live an examined life Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality Those visions are much more interesting in their organic state anyway As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious So what to hang in an art gallery? I have my own opinions At this point in time No visuals elicit more emotions Than dank memes When I'm consuming art Questions are innate in my consumption Is this a vessel for empathy? Is this examining the human condition? Dank memes meet those criteria Satirizing the powerful Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves That we're either proud or ashamed of Memes share a common thread with poetry In the sense that everybody can create memes Or be a poet I get the impression that Universality of art diminishes it's importance In the minds of patrons There's an element of truth to that But what makes art special is quality And what makes art truly special is high quality And that's what belongs in museums
0
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
Modern Art
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum Nails hammered into wood And trash strewn on the floor I couldn't help thinking What the **** is this **** These can't be the champions of modern art Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective The theater is fine Music is there for those inclined to discover it So what about visual art? I know a few things for certain Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy Trash is not art Trash is trash Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty I will concede that Beauty can be found in everything Depending on analyzation variation But those that live an examined life Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality Those visions are much more interesting in their organic state anyway As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious So what to hang in an art gallery? I have my own opinions At this point in time No visuals elicit more emotions Than dank memes When I'm consuming art Questions are innate in my consumption Is this a vessel for empathy? Is this examining the human condition? Dank memes meet those criteria Satirizing the powerful Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves That we're either proud or ashamed of Memes share a common thread with poetry In the sense that everybody can create memes Or be a poet I get the impression that Universality of art diminishes it's importance In the minds of patrons There's an element of truth to that But what makes art special is quality And what makes art truly special is high quality And that's what belongs in museums
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49
Miscommunication serendipity, anticipation, blurred reality - lost in the dialect of a dream, in pursuit of Love find callous irony; subversion of desire what's it all about? to know and be known. Mere seconds of scrutiny inferior, I am shown. Her appraisal eviscerating my warm flesh, her tilted criteria supplanting the interior, voluble with saccharine neologisms and preferences for the exterior. (not mine) Ironic was my attraction to her brain. Lines, features and symmetry, image - the commodity, aesthetics, the currency in this transaction, cursory liaison, incendiary, collapse of the insurgent ego - there was no us in the the affair of nothingness. Bruised in abasement, I'm not the one -   I thought I was. Hyperbole - the center of delusion, a curious diversion - avoid my life. The allure of the illusion, transference, the ordinary to the romantic, the perfect other. Searching, the absorbing project - aquiring wholeness, did she reject me? I rejected me. The escape into fraudulent sadness, to mourn, is to displace, the disowned heart by self is tragic.   Should I not mourn for the one I'm deferring? Inside of me It's safe, to lament the loss of identity - tension is agony without resolve sequestered, in my pain, self-imposed familiar terrain, upon retrieval, awaking in renewal, mystery and destiny providentially, I am free.
0
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
Miss Communication
They say a dog chooses it’s Master and i believe a submissive does too. Because just moments within meeting him, i swear I already knew. Set aside any criteria and any particular credentials. That something you can’t quite put your finger on, Is one of my fundamentals. I let him look inside my soul, i show him I’m a dreamer. Already he’s controlling me and has altered my demeanour. My logic screams inside me NO! -Don’t sell your soul to the devil. But my senses scream inside me YES... “In his presence you will revel! “ The more we talk, the more I feared as he changed my personality. Yet further i delve into his aura, although anticipating fatality. Throwing caution to the wind, i ignored my logic mind, Ready to give him all of me, til he suddenly declined. Confusion strikes, I feel a loss. Not knowing what I’ve done. He tells me you’re not serious and only seeking bedroom fun. I don’t know how to prove myself, wondering if this is just a test. One day he’s here, the next he’s not. I feel so... Dispossessed? ! I’d usually give up once rejected but I know I must persist. My inner sub is telling me she needs him to exist. You see jus moments within meeting him, something was oh so very prominent. I’m sure he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s destined to be my DOMINANT.
0
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
Destined to be mine
If I were ruler of all nations... As one of Gods creations There would be policies created from this societies frustrations I wouldn't waste your time... In fact doing so would be a crime It wouldn't be about politics with all it's dirt & grime It would be about the people It would ensure our rights are equal Spread to all from high above, preached atop the highest steeple And I wouldn't be afraid to say... That expiring some freedoms may be the only way And that would mean taking certain peoples "rights" away Some freedoms are given away too easily They should require much harder accessibility Which will aid in the filtration of humanity One right I would retrieve because it's abuse is so hard to believe I'd make it official that not all persons would have the right to conceive Not unless certain criteria are met, I'd have certain rules that would be set I'd put a hold on this right until one disproves their ignorant And since ignorance is bred I wouldn't allow our future to continue to be mislead Stuck in communities that will never get ahead If I were faced with this position, I have no doubt in my disposition Life skills would be taught in school, a required graduation precondition I'd advocate the importance of community Gone would be the privilege of immunity And with it would go all feelings of disunity To ensure all are exposed to equal possibility Early education would include lessons on life & moral responsibility To ensure guidance to all despite personal accessibility I'd replace things like algebra and womans lit with classes on life knowledge It's more important that the youth learn financal stability and manners, those who want to learn the square root of X can take that major in college Priority should be that each leaves high school with the tools to survive Each would leave with equal opportunity to prosper and to thrive Oh if I ruled the world!!
0
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
If I Ruled The World
If I were ruler of all nations... As one of Gods creations There would be policies created from this societies frustrations I wouldn't waste your time... In fact doing so would be a crime It wouldn't be about politics with all it's dirt & grime It would be about the people It would ensure our rights are equal Spread to all from high above, preached atop the highest steeple And I wouldn't be afraid to say... That expiring some freedoms may be the only way And that would mean taking certain peoples "rights" away Some freedoms are given away too easily They should require much harder accessibility Which will aid in the filtration of humanity One right I would retrieve because it's abuse is so hard to believe I'd make it official that not all persons would have the right to conceive Not unless certain criteria are met, I'd have certain rules that would be set I'd put a hold on this right until one disproves their ignorant And since ignorance is bred I wouldn't allow our future to continue to be mislead Stuck in communities that will never get ahead If I were faced with this position, I have no doubt in my disposition Life skills would be taught in school, a required graduation precondition I'd advocate the importance of community Gone would be the privilege of immunity And with it would go all feelings of disunity To ensure all are exposed to equal possibility Early education would include lessons on life & moral responsibility To ensure guidance to all despite personal accessibility I'd replace things like algebra and womans lit with classes on life knowledge It's more important that the youth learn financal stability and manners, those who want to learn the square root of X can take that major in college Priority should be that each leaves high school with the tools to survive Each would leave with equal opportunity to prosper and to thrive Oh if I ruled the world!!
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29
Not too tall -- Don't want him towering over me Looking down on me Humiliating me In more ways than one. Eyes should be dark -- Not pale. Don't want them Cold, empty, icy Don't need A shark-like gaze To chill me to the bone. Not too large -- Don't need him to tell me Just how big and strong and intimidating he is Can't have him saying Outright or otherwise That he could hold me Or anyone else down. What else are arms for? Not too crude -- In fact, I just might want him to talk Like a woman. Don't get me wrong -- My vocabulary is colorful enough. It would be hypocritical to rule out profanity. But, as soon as you call me or her or him or this or that 'BITCH' The bile will surely be climbing my throat. Not too proud -- Yes, confidence is attractive But conceit is certainly no match. I don't care if he thinks he looks good -- I will most likely agree that he does -- But one who can not admit to his mistakes Let alone answer for them Is a frightening caricature of humanity. I am so flawed, love But my flaws are not the cause of yours. Not too dense -- Anyone who reads this Male, female, or other And calls me a 'man hater' Or asks what I would think of a man If he wrote something like this about a woman Should run along For that is not what I'm saying Not at all. I know what I deserve And it's just what everyone else should get. I just believe That 'do unto others' Should not die Once the ring is on the finger Or the name is on the dotted line. I just believe That 'love' should not be bastardized To mean an unconditional, everlasting loop of 'Whatever you want Honey.' Only give what you'd want to get Only take what you know you need No matter the giver. Bestow and accept nothing less And as much more As you can manage. Believe me I'll keep doing the same No matter what you say.
0
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
the 'issue' criteria
Not too tall -- Don't want him towering over me Looking down on me Humiliating me In more ways than one. Eyes should be dark -- Not pale. Don't want them Cold, empty, icy Don't need A shark-like gaze To chill me to the bone. Not too large -- Don't need him to tell me Just how big and strong and intimidating he is Can't have him saying Outright or otherwise That he could hold me Or anyone else down. What else are arms for? Not too crude -- In fact, I just might want him to talk Like a woman. Don't get me wrong -- My vocabulary is colorful enough. It would be hypocritical to rule out profanity. But, as soon as you call me or her or him or this or that 'BITCH' The bile will surely be climbing my throat. Not too proud -- Yes, confidence is attractive But conceit is certainly no match. I don't care if he thinks he looks good -- I will most likely agree that he does -- But one who can not admit to his mistakes Let alone answer for them Is a frightening caricature of humanity. I am so flawed, love But my flaws are not the cause of yours. Not too dense -- Anyone who reads this Male, female, or other And calls me a 'man hater' Or asks what I would think of a man If he wrote something like this about a woman Should run along For that is not what I'm saying Not at all. I know what I deserve And it's just what everyone else should get. I just believe That 'do unto others' Should not die Once the ring is on the finger Or the name is on the dotted line. I just believe That 'love' should not be bastardized To mean an unconditional, everlasting loop of 'Whatever you want Honey.' Only give what you'd want to get Only take what you know you need No matter the giver. Bestow and accept nothing less And as much more As you can manage. Believe me I'll keep doing the same No matter what you say.
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69
Everyday’s affliction with what we know is missing Countless moments wishing that fishing was as simple as whistling Remembering that willows wither in winters un-warmed and wandering wonders willfully repose when rivaled against ripening woes Come closer potential memories of exposes’ Clothes skydiving with expectations of faceplanting into the floor Lady classifications disguise the actions depicting a ***** Heaping hopefuls cascade over glistening gazes that persuade the perilous to lay dormant Come closer to the oops That second guess in the back of your head that taps the shoulder and says go That same go that was an initial no and now corruption has spidered the criteria It seems the cat may have found the trick to the ball of yarn
0
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
Curiosities Corruption
My job is to bake cakes I once magically created cakes of every hue Cakes that tasted like fruit or cream And others that were super sweet Still, others that were filling and heathy I was only limited to my creativity Then the cake bosses Ordered me to bake only vanilla cakes They said that all cakes are the same And my cakes must meet their standards Yet their criteria was vanilla and plain I was forced to throw off the fruit and cream And mute the rainbow of colors Even to add vanilla and sugar to my heathy cakes If that wasn't bad enough The cake bosses pressured me to fill unrealistic quotas And to treat all of the cakes the same Even though they are, naturally, flavored differently Then my budget was cut and bakers were downsized Next, I had more cakes to bake and less time to prepare I was even told to do without eggs and milk But the cakes must meet even higher standards How does this taste? Does it leave a bad taste in your mouth too? It's not a piece a cake But I choose to bake on Believing that I can still bake special cakes The batter just gets thicker everyday
0
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
It's Not a Piece of Cake!
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment. My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming. My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children. My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done. My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares. My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:              **A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds              More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.              Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.              It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as              such on death certificates.              More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.              Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all              religions and at all levels of education.             About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing the horrible cycle of abuse.             About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one             psychological disorder.** And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included. And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children? When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and **** and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’? I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
0
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
My Greatest Fear
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment. My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming. My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children. My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done. My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares. My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:              **A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds              More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.              Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.              It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as              such on death certificates.              More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.              Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all              religions and at all levels of education.             About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing the horrible cycle of abuse.             About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one             psychological disorder.** And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included. And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children? When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and **** and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’? I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
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22
Tomorrow the baseball Hall of Fame will announce the newest members selected to join her hallowed hall.  Ken Griffey Jr.  will surely be selected. I wish Hello Poetry had a Hall Of Fame. There are so many poets and good friends worthy of.   In absence of, I wish to nominate the following poets for the first class when and if it is ever created. My criteria for selection to this Hello Poetry Hall of Fame are:                     A feeling heart                     loves  poetry                     is a friend to others in the community A Triple Crown. Time and space are the only reason I have not listed all poets here at Hello Poetry: Vicki  (My Queen, a love child of Whitman and Dickinson) Christi Michaels MoonFlower mark cleavenger Musfiq us shaleheen brandon cory nagley The Masked Pimpernel rebecca askew Sjr1000 Pradip Chattopadhyay elsa angelica Eddie Starr Poetry ryn Weeping willow KetomaRose Steven Langhorst Mike Essig Willard Wells Woody Elizabeth Squires SoulSurvivor Pax Grace Dave Kavanagh Sumina Thapaliya FJ Davis SE Reimer Sally A Bayan solEmn oaSis Melissa S Arcassin B ..... and to those I failed to mention I apologize. I am thinking of you, also, but time and space are the only limitations to my list of nominees.
0
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
HP needs a Hall of Fame!
Always scanning Always searching Every face Every glimmer of red hair It's a weakness, that red hair, she said With a self-deprecating smile Are you her? The one we've been looking for The one to complete us A three-part us So many criteria Chemistry Values Maturity But most important, Belonging So much longing To have hands as full as my heart Am I ignoring the possibles? Am I looking too hard, Trying too hard To force something out of nothing? Gaining nothing but Another gaping hole Wounds to lick clean, Scars to soothe His and mine Learning how to trust Again
0
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
Who's There?
having the best of intentions, but lacking good inventions, and criteria I cannot mention, 'cause I lack proper intuition. I missed the final right turn, causing some bridges to burn. I seem to never ever learn to love one, instead of yearn. I always throw the first stone, talk to myself on the phone, use language to cut thru bone. that's how I end up alone. having the best of intentions but lacking good inventions, and things I forgot to mention, 'cause I lack proper intuition.
0
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
intuition
Thank you for registering for our website. You're almost ready to enter a portal of super awesome fun time vibes that will alter your whole being down to it's genetic core. But before you can see the goods, you need to come up with a password that meets our criteria as follows, - Must contain at least one capital letteR -Needs @ least two $ymbols. -Should be a minimum length of an Ernest Hemingway novel. -Add a dash of salt -You will also need to cover your entire body in sacred mud found only in parts of Mesa, Arizona. -Written approval from any pets. -On your webcam record yourself singing the phrase "Lemon trigonometry adversely if but  ***** carrots digital ******** maps" then publish it. You must get at least 537 views within 12 hours. -Burn all your socks and mail us the ashes. -Write to your state representative and senator. -Make an artesian spaghetti sandwich using whole grain golden moon grown quinoa bread and cage free angel hair pasta noodles cooked al dente in a curry sauce with a whisper of coconut oil on each piece of bread and leave said sandwich out by your front door over night.
0
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
Password Instructions
The reason there aren't so many vampyres around these days is they don't like TV hype and the intrusions of TV news crews. It transpires that vampyres prefer late hours and like low light levels because they're egregarious and don't like to be seen inebrious in the middle of their heinous, intravenous revels. Also, unfavorable reviews about transfusions and the confusion caused by AIDS, at this juncture, has definitely reduced the appeal of being seduced by some crazed and gurgling Transylvanian bloodsucker lusting to puncture the jugular, or any other available vein again, especially when you don't know if they've disinfected their fangs or only licked them after draining their last victim. After all, vampyres were brought up in castles when there weren't antiseptics for gargles and they haven't been taught prophylactic criteria against such apocalyptic viral bacteria. And if you've ever seen vampyres with condoms on their teeth, you'll know what I mean.   It's a scream. Everyone finds them hilarious. It'd be easier to die laughing than to go down with anemia. Also, like everyone else, vampyres hate ridicule. No-one likes being seen as the fool.    And the other reason vampyres are scarce now is that there are so many genuine muggers, hoods, crims, druggies, financial leeches, homicidal maniacs, psychopathic liars and genocidal tendencies to conjure up real fears out there, that there's not much room left for quaint old-fashioned vampyres, poor dears.   But do you know something? Even though they were naughty, I miss their occasional **** I know it was gory, but those kisses, oh boy. We got into the femoral artery inside the thigh. It was ***** But when AIDs came along, that was it.  Definitely bye-bye. Nobody wanted to die.   These are the facts.   So these vampyres were starving and they reverted to bats.   Did a midnight flit, and that's the end of my story.
0
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
Goodbye to Vampyres
The reason there aren't so many vampyres around these days is they don't like TV hype and the intrusions of TV news crews. It transpires that vampyres prefer late hours and like low light levels because they're egregarious and don't like to be seen inebrious in the middle of their heinous, intravenous revels. Also, unfavorable reviews about transfusions and the confusion caused by AIDS, at this juncture, has definitely reduced the appeal of being seduced by some crazed and gurgling Transylvanian bloodsucker lusting to puncture the jugular, or any other available vein again, especially when you don't know if they've disinfected their fangs or only licked them after draining their last victim. After all, vampyres were brought up in castles when there weren't antiseptics for gargles and they haven't been taught prophylactic criteria against such apocalyptic viral bacteria. And if you've ever seen vampyres with condoms on their teeth, you'll know what I mean.   It's a scream. Everyone finds them hilarious. It'd be easier to die laughing than to go down with anemia. Also, like everyone else, vampyres hate ridicule. No-one likes being seen as the fool.    And the other reason vampyres are scarce now is that there are so many genuine muggers, hoods, crims, druggies, financial leeches, homicidal maniacs, psychopathic liars and genocidal tendencies to conjure up real fears out there, that there's not much room left for quaint old-fashioned vampyres, poor dears.   But do you know something? Even though they were naughty, I miss their occasional **** I know it was gory, but those kisses, oh boy. We got into the femoral artery inside the thigh. It was ***** But when AIDs came along, that was it.  Definitely bye-bye. Nobody wanted to die.   These are the facts.   So these vampyres were starving and they reverted to bats.   Did a midnight flit, and that's the end of my story.
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37
It’s not a ranking or an achievement As if far from the “top.” It’s an advancement Starting from the “first place”; The greater magnitude being a positive progression. It’s not even a race in the “first place.” A dual-digit place marker can and should indicate you’re moving forward. At this point, you meet the requirements and criteria For adult access to many sights, tastes, And times. Of course, that’s not the ultimate cause of celebration For being in [the] “23rd place.” When you’re in [the] 23rd place, you’re in a comfortable position And not necessarily at a crucial extremum of attention. There will be those behind and those in front, So, though you keep your own pace nevertheless, To know you’re no longer in first place, Yet not in last place of your course of path, Means that you have some to teach And still some who may offer pointers, tips, tricks, inspirations, And the gift of encounter, however brief or long. There are many who long to be in first place or last place Because the extrema tend to get the recognition. The important insight is to recognize that, not only do the numbers matter little, But you can make them stand out, like the number 23. There’s random selection, too, amid those spontaneous humor-goers, And then there’s placement and fixation With purpose, sincerity, and intention. You’re 23 not solely based on record Or coincidence; You’re 23 because you lived out the previous age In every way: what you missed, what you learned, what you offered, And what you planted. On your birthday and every day, The newness longed for arrives in a time not desired or unwanted, But at a time just right, which still causes waves of pain and waves of relief Across space anyway. Happy Birthday Devin! You’re in [your] 23rd place! Celebrate this checkpoint!
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
23rd Place
It’s not a ranking or an achievement As if far from the “top.” It’s an advancement Starting from the “first place”; The greater magnitude being a positive progression. It’s not even a race in the “first place.” A dual-digit place marker can and should indicate you’re moving forward. At this point, you meet the requirements and criteria For adult access to many sights, tastes, And times. Of course, that’s not the ultimate cause of celebration For being in [the] “23rd place.” When you’re in [the] 23rd place, you’re in a comfortable position And not necessarily at a crucial extremum of attention. There will be those behind and those in front, So, though you keep your own pace nevertheless, To know you’re no longer in first place, Yet not in last place of your course of path, Means that you have some to teach And still some who may offer pointers, tips, tricks, inspirations, And the gift of encounter, however brief or long. There are many who long to be in first place or last place Because the extrema tend to get the recognition. The important insight is to recognize that, not only do the numbers matter little, But you can make them stand out, like the number 23. There’s random selection, too, amid those spontaneous humor-goers, And then there’s placement and fixation With purpose, sincerity, and intention. You’re 23 not solely based on record Or coincidence; You’re 23 because you lived out the previous age In every way: what you missed, what you learned, what you offered, And what you planted. On your birthday and every day, The newness longed for arrives in a time not desired or unwanted, But at a time just right, which still causes waves of pain and waves of relief Across space anyway. Happy Birthday Devin! You’re in [your] 23rd place! Celebrate this checkpoint!
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39
Trillions of tiny warm pieces of coral, rock, and sea bones run smoothly through the hands and feet of one female being. She sits upon the shoreline watching the way the tide and waves change...watching the almost reddish-orange sun set. The sun that she is mesmerized by. Mesmerized in such a way it causes her mind to open up, like a whales mouth when it's ready to satisfy it's hunger, looking almost as if its about to swallow the whole ocean itself. With her brain burst asunder by the wonder of God's creation, she starts to think..thinking as she never did before, and putting thought into things that has never even crossed her mind. Time is now infinite. As hours pass, which seem like seconds, thoughts are no longer the only thing that surrounds her. She is now accompanied by a Dream. A dream which is as sweet as the very breeze that swifts across the ocean tops and embraces the most exotic extracts from the fruits and flowers around her. A dream that cannot be expressed with words, but more rather jesters, thoughts, and actions...acts of love and uncontrollable feelings of desire and emotion. Though in the deepest urge of reaching this dream, one never truly realizes how much pain, heartache, and sorrow one must endure to accomplish this ultimate beauty. The understanding of this so called pain or love-sick criteria is, for some, too overwhelming for them to comprehend..and so we, me, you, or whomever simply just give up. So truly, the strongest really do survive the pain love brings. And so now, as the day becomes night, the sunset fades, and the oceans calm...that young female being heads back to another place of paradise, where she will lay her thoughts, dreams, and concerns on a pillow. Yet as sure as the moon is forever, so was once a dreamer who is now the dream. -Bobbie Leigh
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May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 1:45 PM UTC
Dreamer (A Short Story)
Trillions of tiny warm pieces of coral, rock, and sea bones run smoothly through the hands and feet of one female being. She sits upon the shoreline watching the way the tide and waves change...watching the almost reddish-orange sun set. The sun that she is mesmerized by. Mesmerized in such a way it causes her mind to open up, like a whales mouth when it's ready to satisfy it's hunger, looking almost as if its about to swallow the whole ocean itself. With her brain burst asunder by the wonder of God's creation, she starts to think..thinking as she never did before, and putting thought into things that has never even crossed her mind. Time is now infinite. As hours pass, which seem like seconds, thoughts are no longer the only thing that surrounds her. She is now accompanied by a Dream. A dream which is as sweet as the very breeze that swifts across the ocean tops and embraces the most exotic extracts from the fruits and flowers around her. A dream that cannot be expressed with words, but more rather jesters, thoughts, and actions...acts of love and uncontrollable feelings of desire and emotion. Though in the deepest urge of reaching this dream, one never truly realizes how much pain, heartache, and sorrow one must endure to accomplish this ultimate beauty. The understanding of this so called pain or love-sick criteria is, for some, too overwhelming for them to comprehend..and so we, me, you, or whomever simply just give up. So truly, the strongest really do survive the pain love brings. And so now, as the day becomes night, the sunset fades, and the oceans calm...that young female being heads back to another place of paradise, where she will lay her thoughts, dreams, and concerns on a pillow. Yet as sure as the moon is forever, so was once a dreamer who is now the dream. -Bobbie Leigh
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they said he should submit this make submissions and do readings this is the way it’s been done for many years but he didn’t really want to a couple of rejections left him weary and he’s a writer not a performer the contests say “all styles and subjects” but surely they have criteria not this one not this one this one the all inclusiveness is a lie the judges know what they want he wished they’d be up front and specific but it’s all about the entry fee they pretend to be seeders offering everyone a chance to grow and bloom but they’re actually weeders quickly quashing poems rubber stamped with doom they never really stood a chance because it’s all about the entry fee “Don’t self publish”, they said “You’ll regret it” he did the design and layout anyway “Can ‘we’ make changes to the cover?” who the hell is “we”? this is his book? sure he wanted sales that’s what publishing is about but sink or swim he wanted his book, his way especially his first book and he’s a stubborn ******* the internet is accommodating this IT age makes it easier the process has been long with glitches and obstacles doubt and procrastination but the would be destination was worthy available at amazon
0
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
A SHAMELESS PLUG
Glassy eye. While one sleeps, keep the second open blankly. People believe you when you look at them. Stare at them. Break into them. They'll believe in your strength. So you won't have to. Tangled yarn. Matted hair; red. Vibrant. Stand out before you stand up and sink. Pull it. Yank it out in devastation, frustration, desperation. Can you feel it escalate? Ripping thread. Twine comes tangled; tousled ropes of faith strung out. It's all a mess. There's a breaking heart here somewhere. Dig beneath the filamentous skin. If anyone dares to dig that long. Stitching smile. I'm tearing. Falling apart at every seam. Stitch me...pin me back together. Lift me up; I'm weightless. I present to you a plaster smile; don't forget to stab in dimples. After numerous unfaltering years, it's wearing thin. A tiny break appears. All the strings are coming loose. Iron-on teardrop; a permanent stain on a withered face. There are many uses for a Ragdoll. Play with her. Use her. Dress her. Change her. Throw her. Hold her. Hate her. Tear her. Tell her. Everything. She'll never let it go. Dance with her. Sleep with her. Hide her. Break her. Blame her. Love her. Trust her. Her stitching will hold. The perennial line of happiness will always prevail. Ragdolls look brightly into any light. Opening lifeless arms to please. Everyone. Anyone who needs them. Now, someone needs to need her. A Ragdoll is good for many things. Fitting any character and criteria. A Ragdoll can be selfless, ageless, fearless, reckless, seamless. However. Never worthless.
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Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 12:52 PM UTC
Ragdoll
Glassy eye. While one sleeps, keep the second open blankly. People believe you when you look at them. Stare at them. Break into them. They'll believe in your strength. So you won't have to. Tangled yarn. Matted hair; red. Vibrant. Stand out before you stand up and sink. Pull it. Yank it out in devastation, frustration, desperation. Can you feel it escalate? Ripping thread. Twine comes tangled; tousled ropes of faith strung out. It's all a mess. There's a breaking heart here somewhere. Dig beneath the filamentous skin. If anyone dares to dig that long. Stitching smile. I'm tearing. Falling apart at every seam. Stitch me...pin me back together. Lift me up; I'm weightless. I present to you a plaster smile; don't forget to stab in dimples. After numerous unfaltering years, it's wearing thin. A tiny break appears. All the strings are coming loose. Iron-on teardrop; a permanent stain on a withered face. There are many uses for a Ragdoll. Play with her. Use her. Dress her. Change her. Throw her. Hold her. Hate her. Tear her. Tell her. Everything. She'll never let it go. Dance with her. Sleep with her. Hide her. Break her. Blame her. Love her. Trust her. Her stitching will hold. The perennial line of happiness will always prevail. Ragdolls look brightly into any light. Opening lifeless arms to please. Everyone. Anyone who needs them. Now, someone needs to need her. A Ragdoll is good for many things. Fitting any character and criteria. A Ragdoll can be selfless, ageless, fearless, reckless, seamless. However. Never worthless.
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Fish heads for dessert Confetti-saltwater taffy for lunch Canned laughter for snack And peptide bonds for a well balanced breakfast "But whats for dinner?" says The Windbag "But whats for dinner?!" screeches The Mimick Hmm, well we have a choice between the sociocultural criteria and a toxic relationship "Can't we have popsicles with answer-less riddles on the sticks?" asked the Windbag "Can't we have popsicles with answer-less riddles on the sticks?!" copied The Mimick "Leeme alone!" cried the Windbag "Leeme alone!!" yelled The Mimick In the end the decided to eat the pockmarks of bird feeding cohorts They picked their teeth with proven points Then watched The Windbag play the glockenspiel Followed by The Mimick on the xylophone As I put the leftover scraps in Tupperware, making sure to burp it before I put it away -Tommy Johnson
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
A Puerile Repast
My country Nigeria, Am a citizen by birth, That’s the Criteria, A blessed nation on the earth, Driven by atrocities as bacteria, A place I was proud to call home, Am a negros and Nigeria is my home, But she’s going down the pan, Causing mortality in my clan. Due to manifestos, We commercialize with hoes. It started with our independence, We thought love would take Prominence, But rather war, corruption and coups, And Tribalism feed on us My plea goes to the world power, Our corruption is taller than any tower, Our leader convince us that colonization Was necessary, Seems we we have cross that boundary. Please colonize us again, Because decolonization has no gain, Remove all these leaders, The made us cry aloud to mothers. I admit we weren’t ripe, We just wanted to be free, Like the smoke from papa’s pipe, Please colonize us! At least Of these situations we shall be free!
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Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
Please colonize us again
I'm not sure what they said what is done really messes with my head Communicating with butterflies always ends with them in your stomach then we age and wonder why we're aneamic just say yes or no there is no pain in rejecting a question there is only pain in a lack of communication as messing with the senses creates an awful sensation so just stop ******* around and say what you mean Anxiety, depression, migraines, mysteria they never make much sense now i know this isn't in your criteria but just be honest be blunt it will end all pain I may be ambitious you may be delicious but miscommunication is disatrious
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May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC
Miscommunication