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"cutely" poems
i had thought the boy in my computer science class with the foreign skin and army outfit was the epitome of adorable breaking into spanish when he got overexcited about learning which was always and i was excited when we were paired together today until he seemed genuinely impressed by my competency and contributed nothing suddenly his misunderstandings of gender and sexism no longer seemed like something i could cutely teach him about but a tragic flaw and a person i didn't want to be around
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
i don't have a crush on him
You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept. The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost. Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short. Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:34 AM UTC
Coca-Cola at 2:00AM
You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept. The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost. Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short. Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.
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7
I Peered Out Of The Room Windows, I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse, It Was A Comfortable Rest House, And Here I Was In Anticipation, Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited, Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too, Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion? Was All That Really Just An Illusion, Thinking This I Prepared For Bed, Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing, Looked Into Sound's Direction, All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night, My Own Reflection Was Also Visible, Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen. I Recalled The First Night At The Sea, She Did Appear On The Towed Raft, A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen, Now I Did Remember It Clearly, My Face Was No Longer Mine, Yes It Was The Beautiful Face Of Hers, She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember. She Was Smiling So Very Divinely, Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely, More Divine Felt She Was Really, I Thought That It Was So Early, My Pocket Watch Showed Three, I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed, Then & There She Was Lying For Me. I Again Let My Mind Play Games, Never Did Imagine Turning Mad, Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad, Neither I Wanted To Break It, Nor It Felt Like One Anymore, This Was The Dream I Loved To Live, As If The Boon Was Presented To Me. She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed, I Asked Her, "Are You Real?" "Yes, Just As Your Thoughts," I Then Stared At Her Lips, She Then Touched Me Again, Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea, I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch. I Blankly Smiled And Thought, 'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,' Then I Just Let Her Guide Me, The Moon Shone So Bright, It Just Felt Really So Very Right, Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win, It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
Angel Illusion?
I Peered Out Of The Room Windows, I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse, It Was A Comfortable Rest House, And Here I Was In Anticipation, Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited, Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too, Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion? Was All That Really Just An Illusion, Thinking This I Prepared For Bed, Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing, Looked Into Sound's Direction, All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night, My Own Reflection Was Also Visible, Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen. I Recalled The First Night At The Sea, She Did Appear On The Towed Raft, A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen, Now I Did Remember It Clearly, My Face Was No Longer Mine, Yes It Was The Beautiful Face Of Hers, She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember. She Was Smiling So Very Divinely, Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely, More Divine Felt She Was Really, I Thought That It Was So Early, My Pocket Watch Showed Three, I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed, Then & There She Was Lying For Me. I Again Let My Mind Play Games, Never Did Imagine Turning Mad, Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad, Neither I Wanted To Break It, Nor It Felt Like One Anymore, This Was The Dream I Loved To Live, As If The Boon Was Presented To Me. She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed, I Asked Her, "Are You Real?" "Yes, Just As Your Thoughts," I Then Stared At Her Lips, She Then Touched Me Again, Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea, I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch. I Blankly Smiled And Thought, 'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,' Then I Just Let Her Guide Me, The Moon Shone So Bright, It Just Felt Really So Very Right, Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win, It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.
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49
Ever so softly, ever so sweet, I listen to your heart, it's slow, slow little beat. I brush your hair cutely over your ear listening to that beat, soon to disappear. Lying softly, lying sweet, I watch you twitch, cutely wiggling your feet. with your eyes wide open and your mouth dripping red, softly and sweetly my job here is done, on your cute little bed.
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Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
Softly, Sweetly, Cutely. . . Incubus.
off the asphalt five miles down south she catches prawn her skirt the catching net feet quietly feather weight she looks a muddy heron beneath sky grayish pale swimming wind with fishy smell on her no man's patch intent on her solo search head bowed down cutely arch she must have her catch streaks of mud on her hair only what she does care a bunch of wriggling store fire it up when day is dead have the catch thinly spread and nothing more
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
Catch
My name is Sandy My twin sister's name is Suzy We hang out together Dressed up so cutely We look so much alike This is so very true But there are some things Only I like to do She is funny and laughs so loud I am the thoughtful one in the crowd She likes green I like blue She likes the playground I like it too We do look alike Sometimes you can see But  there are all the times When I am just me!
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Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 3:46 AM UTC
My Twin Sister
Can you see me? I see you, I see you even in my dreams. The ones with you painted in them are always my favorite. ~ Can you hear me? I always hear you. On days when I'm alone I wish nothing more than to hear your handsome voice fill the room with life and colors. ~ Can you feel me? When my fingers touch yours, or when I watch the way you so cutely do certain things, or even when as I listen to you speak through my eyes I scream at you "I love you"? ~ But more importantly, can You love Me too?
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Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Can U?
I have so often wondered more, Who wrote you in my destiny. The question has cutely lingered about here, In the newly glorified days of my life. You seem so carefree to me on the outside, But you are a lovely-lovely angel in the inside. We must learn patience & conservancy from birds, They travel across oceans to breed in the seasons. I enjoy gazing at your pretty name, Just like I stared at stars in the clear night-sky. A date will bolster the waiting time, But we will keep in touch with you till then. Such is the grandeur of the feeling we have for each other, We are so steeped in love that it has seeped into our blood.
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Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
Steeped In Grandeur
I am just a name No money, no claim to fame Just an ordinary guy Who holds his head high! You can count me as any One among the countless many Just another face in the crowd Who has not stopped being proud! You may ask why the vanity You can pity the humble's dignity Not knowing the true measure Of the possessions in my treasure! I have a richly simple life An undemanding girl as a wife My heart she really does win She's a woman no boasting queen! We have a son (a daughter it could be) A bubbly one that babbles in glee I don't mind missing the sunrise We see it every moment in his eyes! I have a house with little to show But a patch of blue from window And a backyard so cutely thin To barely hold a streak of green! But it's not the house so much The wonder is my wife's magic touch That tides whatever the weather And keeps our home together! So you know dear reader my mate The key of my pride the secret With all the world's wealth on my side Shouldn't I bear myself with pride?
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Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
Secret of my Pride
Today, is 4/6/16. It is 7:46 pm. And my childhood friend just died 41 minutes ago. No lie, no joke. I cry as I write this one, my eyes are probably swollen, and I know he wouldn't want me to cry. But, I look at the pictures I have of him, how he seemed so happy. I held him in my arms, just hoping he'd eat something, at 5:10 pm today. He hadn't been eating for days, he couldn't stand up. My friend's name was scooter. Scooter was the best pet I could have asked for. He was the main attraction at my home, because he was a pig. Such a lovable pig. He was just like a dog, but better. That pig could make me smile any day. He used to dance. He used to oink so cutely. I am gonna miss him for sure. I just know it. With that, I end this one. With tears in my eyes, I wish you a final goodbye. I will always love you, buddy. R.I.P my dear, dear scooter.
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
To my buddy. I'll miss you alot.
little people cutely small politically inconsequential speeches on tee vee teachin us how not to think til we learn to never think at all cutely obeying the law eating popcorn at the mall
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Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 2:40 PM UTC
poetic license revoked
She walks delicately, carefully, easily. Right on by you. She talks quietly, beautifully, gracefully. Right next to you. Quickly she locks you in. She whispers seductively, huskily, sexily. Right into your ear. She says sweet things, cute things, great things. Straight to you. And now she's getting through. Her heels clack. He nearly spat. But all you do is stare. The way she talks is planned. The way she walks--rehearsed. All those things were petty lies. But it's too late. She smiles cutely, quickly, embarrassed. Just to get to you. She blushes deeply, innocently, easily. While getting ready for you. She has got you chained now. She acts timidly, shyly, less boldly. To get closer to you. She treats you well, kindly, graciously. Just to lie to you. She's got you begging. Her heels clack. He nearly spat. But all you do is stare. The way she talks is planned. The way she walks--rehearsed. All those things were petty lies. But it's too late. She holds your heart frighteningly, tightly, brightly. Making her own you. She looks strong, powerful, unforgettable. Showing herself to you. And now you see through it all. She steps lightly, passionately, happily. Over to you. She seems cruel, evil, sinister. Having played you. Too bad it's nearly the end. Her heels clack. He nearly spat. But all you do is stare. The way she talks is planned. The way she walks--rehearsed. All those things were petty lies. But it's too late. She holds herself dignifiedly, highly, gloriously. As she brings the knife to you. She cuts deeply, thrillingly, chillingly. Straight into you. If only you had known. She moves smoothly, willingly, cutely. Right on by you. She is biter, sinister, crazy. As she continues. And it restarts, nothing new.
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Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC
Lying Devil
She walks delicately, carefully, easily. Right on by you. She talks quietly, beautifully, gracefully. Right next to you. Quickly she locks you in. She whispers seductively, huskily, sexily. Right into your ear. She says sweet things, cute things, great things. Straight to you. And now she's getting through. Her heels clack. He nearly spat. But all you do is stare. The way she talks is planned. The way she walks--rehearsed. All those things were petty lies. But it's too late. She smiles cutely, quickly, embarrassed. Just to get to you. She blushes deeply, innocently, easily. While getting ready for you. She has got you chained now. She acts timidly, shyly, less boldly. To get closer to you. She treats you well, kindly, graciously. Just to lie to you. She's got you begging. Her heels clack. He nearly spat. But all you do is stare. The way she talks is planned. The way she walks--rehearsed. All those things were petty lies. But it's too late. She holds your heart frighteningly, tightly, brightly. Making her own you. She looks strong, powerful, unforgettable. Showing herself to you. And now you see through it all. She steps lightly, passionately, happily. Over to you. She seems cruel, evil, sinister. Having played you. Too bad it's nearly the end. Her heels clack. He nearly spat. But all you do is stare. The way she talks is planned. The way she walks--rehearsed. All those things were petty lies. But it's too late. She holds herself dignifiedly, highly, gloriously. As she brings the knife to you. She cuts deeply, thrillingly, chillingly. Straight into you. If only you had known. She moves smoothly, willingly, cutely. Right on by you. She is biter, sinister, crazy. As she continues. And it restarts, nothing new.
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77
And so I asked my future wife, With a smile on my calm face, When we made a new decision, About getting a new apartment, To which she replied innocently, "How would it be helping us now? If we made away with Craig's list, Wouldn't he be at significant loss?" I didn't reply and merely smiled, It was a slightly pleasant surprise, Taken by her cutely innocent reply, I told her that what a Craigslist was, Even she was laughing at herself now.
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 6:47 AM UTC
"Madame, Would You Like A Craigslist?"
I feel the need To type hello To ask if you want company I feel the need To keep it short To slightly tease To arouse your curiosity I feel the need To shave my legs To cutely dress To match my bra to my ******* I feel the need To ready myself For an answer I've yet to receive I feel the need To hope That you'll finally See me I feel the need To sleep Because you never reply Why can't I be the guy? Why can't I just ignore... Not feeling the need To adore To miss or to love Why can't I just feel the need To give up? Why can't I give less of me? Why can't I feel the need for more? Alas, I'm bound to this heart.... I feel the need To rip it out of my chest To allow myself rest To fall apart...... ©MV
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
Untitled
True endeavor ----- He took off his Poverty and slipped out the Door •• You wanna see a ****** up reality ? Look around! All we got is a ****** up reality ! •••• Why is it ****** up? CAUSE IT'S NOT REAL -- That is to say: WE DO NOT SEE THE POWERS OF TRUTH AT PLAY •• (There is no LOVE In the garbage can of twisted personality ---- All the BROKEN ONES that you claim you can save By simple being cutely adored) •• True endeavor -- He took off his Poverty and slipped out the Door
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Evolution evolving
Oh my I know you want me i'm such a pretty mess a painted doll with bright green eyes and cuts that you can mend I bat my eyes so cutely when i'm trying not to cry I turn my head and you grab me Still in poised and in my dress and what you see's not what you get Because i'm no prize my dear and I fall down when I cry because my body shakes so horribly and i'll always ask you why why you care about my health my mind and why you care to look at me when my eyes are red and swollen and i'm trying not to bleed My lipstick smears away across my face and on my hands I will push you I will fight you ball my fists up and i'll scream till you can't stand the thought of me and I slump down in defeat because i'm no doll and I don't play i'm just a little mess a formerly pretty girl with scars on her legs and sweetie scars don't mend
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Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
If you don't read my poems than you can't hold me when I cry
She, and me! She's my best friend, She makes me proud of my destiny. She rhymes just so cutely with me, Her name is Mummy, Mummy, and me! Here 'me' is Atul Kaushal!
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
My Favourite Rhyming Words Are
When I shooed the cat It spoke out kinda human voice So all your knowledge has come to that Acting only on selfish choice! Answered him without losing my grit Pretentious cat a sly mean thief Wise words in your mouth don’t befit Most misplaced would be in you a belief! Ha I laugh when you say I steal A crumb of fish few drops of milk Tribe of men when have belly’s fill Gorge some more your hungry ilk! Had been you a little kind and fair And not just mindful of own wellness Learned to live with caring share The world would have been a lovely place! In such a world never a cat would steal Needn’t have to when kept well fed Would discard all its furtive skill Live cutely cuddled on human bed!
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
When I Shooed the Cat
Where women aren't quite women They're Menstruating folk, Their gender simply Human, The world gone truly woke. Grasping for atonement, The art of double speak, The fancy of the moment Our words they cutely tweak. Political correctness, Not He, nor She, but It, In search of urban fairness, With some a glowing hit. For others who stay silent, Not knowing what to say, On tact sorely reliant, For this to pass they pray. But how about this thought To brighten up your day, Good sense is rarely taught So why should wokes hold sway? We the startled masses Muted for so long, Know Thoroughbreds from ***** That's how we get along.
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 9:23 AM UTC
Wokes Run Wild
Awareness appeared like a virus cutely attached to my brain stem. I am a terrible person. I say misgivings  like u wld say thanksgiving and I speak it aloud to those gathered @ the Table // The Table touched by each person I've hurt & [yet] they are cool with me // This is the bluest I've ever been.
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
Self portrait
LONDON TIME Sprawls across the skyline. Ancient and newly alike. Busy wheels and politics. Backstreets of culture with pickpocket vultures. Stations and bankers, And other posh tankers, Otherwise known as rich classy wan**rs. Sea museums and see museums Plague victims under common land lay. Sleeping for years. And time changes. Smiles very cutely, as he makes the suggestion. Let's go sight seeing "dear lady" Come along and see my life. I'll hold your hand forever, but you will never be my wife. He will never be your husband, as he knows not how. The man who stopped time in London town. (c) Livvi
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
LONDON TIME
Helen of Toy she liked them of plastic she liked them of wood she liked to insert them as deep as she could cutely painted or plainly plain it really did not matter gradually with practice they got longer and fatter the pleasure they bring she had a hole army they were not whiskered sweaty or swarmy they never cheated or broke her sweet heart they're always there to completely finsh what they start though never in France she was stolen by Paris starting a fierce war meant to embarrass no need of a horse no need of a Trojan no waiting for phones no need for a dumb man Gomer LePoet ....
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May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
Helen of Toy
There he lays with killing claws so snug, on my warm lap I smile as he looks so cute he even left a bird by my feet Oh Bas it's a mucking sparrow you little ******* with eyes so narrow I know you know what I am saying but goodness sake it's a sparrow I don't think I should pat you you murderous little brat does that poor bird warrant a cat slap And you purr so Juvenal and in contentment you cutely snug saying Here you are daddy I hope you will eat a Sparrow for Monday to bury and keep By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris By NeonSolaris © 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
So Juvenal