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"dah" poems
You’re all alone, Sometimes getting messages, Sometimes not To go on Tinder dates And so sometimes you go. Some go real **** I mean it’s Tinder, dah. But latest one goes kinda well, And so you go with it, You wanna settle down. The only thing He’s a proper ******* You read on Instagram about. So you pretend to be a fuckgirl, No feelings sticking out. The exes really sense it, You’re with another guy. Especially, a full moon Does something real strange, They start to really feel that. The exes either come in packs, Or they don’t come at all. They see you’re sort of happy, So it becomes their master plan - To ******* ruin it all. They text, they call, They start remembering The nicest **** you’ve done. They try to reach that special spot, They’ve reached then shattered many times. But once for all, this time for 'real' You have decided: "I'm ******* quitting it", "This time feelings will be nowhere near it". So you just keep on seeing the ******* You've met on Tinder.
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Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Another One About Quitting It
going to the horror films at ten years old i wanted to be bitten by the vampire ladies you know the ones red brides from the netherworlds with heaving ******* divinities of evil with that dah look in silky white gowns a little messy from sleeping in the dirt culture vulture goth girls with upside down crosses slags all gauzy bats in the belfry deranged but after all they where dead and dreadfully appealing and I'm pretty fussy so what the hell they walked like floats in marshy air never touching the ground above frozen dark crypt terrains with twinkly bare feet and black high glossed toenails staring out of blood spilled eyes drooling cloudy mouth hollows and a yearning hungry countenance encouraging me to get closer to bite me all over pierce me with needly fangs puncturing little holes in tender me making me leak like bad plumbing until i sloped into the bog below of course, i was panicked all trembly but i had a big one for these evil shadowy ******* too so i thought yes no yes no yes no are you gonna **** me? i asked they drooled ooow okay, i thought is it gonna hurt? they shook there heads yes! and drooled real bad? i inquired further ah ha they lingered glaring drooling i guess, waiting for me to make up my mind oh okay anything for you you dark dreamy girls dilapidated queens of hell with ballet derrières "down and down I go round and round I go in a spin, lovin' the spin I'm in under the old black magic called love" after all at ten years old, i already knew i was a horror ***** and just a little turned on
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
HORROR ***** ...IM JUST A LITTLE TURNED ON
going to the horror films at ten years old i wanted to be bitten by the vampire ladies you know the ones red brides from the netherworlds with heaving ******* divinities of evil with that dah look in silky white gowns a little messy from sleeping in the dirt culture vulture goth girls with upside down crosses slags all gauzy bats in the belfry deranged but after all they where dead and dreadfully appealing and I'm pretty fussy so what the hell they walked like floats in marshy air never touching the ground above frozen dark crypt terrains with twinkly bare feet and black high glossed toenails staring out of blood spilled eyes drooling cloudy mouth hollows and a yearning hungry countenance encouraging me to get closer to bite me all over pierce me with needly fangs puncturing little holes in tender me making me leak like bad plumbing until i sloped into the bog below of course, i was panicked all trembly but i had a big one for these evil shadowy ******* too so i thought yes no yes no yes no are you gonna **** me? i asked they drooled ooow okay, i thought is it gonna hurt? they shook there heads yes! and drooled real bad? i inquired further ah ha they lingered glaring drooling i guess, waiting for me to make up my mind oh okay anything for you you dark dreamy girls dilapidated queens of hell with ballet derrières "down and down I go round and round I go in a spin, lovin' the spin I'm in under the old black magic called love" after all at ten years old, i already knew i was a horror ***** and just a little turned on
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71
I know some folks Some new most old Keeping logs swirling It’s a balancing act Lots of plates spinning Whoops! Stretch right! ***** fall Plates crash Notes fall flat Oh! Look over there! Thank you, magicians! TAH-DAH! Take a bow, Sis, bro, boom! You got the room!
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
MAGIC!
While My Guitar Gently Sleeps boogie woogie is on my mind my toe tapping a thousand times slapping snare and top hat crash back to sleep dreamy night fade away is it a festival of jazz marching by raz-ma-taz New Orleans style clarinet and trumpet and tuba blow blind melon singing do-dah do-dah-day Latin fever makes me thrash trying to remember the tricky steps the cha-cha of the island girls watching how the shapely hips sway Spanish marimba mambo twist taps clacking as the flamenco flies big box acoustic cat gut strings fingers twitching wanting to play square dance cowgirls and dudes strut thumbs in their pockets stomping boots fiddles and steel race through my heart gonna do it all do it all someday roll over and change the world another day dreamy night fade away once again screaming guitars in triple tones while my guitar gently sleeps away Gomer LePoet...
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May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
While My Guitar Gently Sleeps
Zippity do dah zippity a My oh my what a FUCKIN' HOT *** day Plenty of sunshine heading my way ........HHHOOOOOOLLLLDDD UUUPP!! Sunshine heading my away!?! HELL NO sunshine I've got something to say: "Your shine is too bright, Your rays are too hot, You weren't invited to hang out, & you take too long to leave!! Staying cool is forever a fight, Rain I sure do miss you an awful lot! I hate being in a ******* drought! Sweet drippin' in places you wouldn't believe!!" Zippity do dah zippity a My oh my what a wonderful day!!
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Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 7:54 AM UTC
Zippity Do Dah ...REMIX
This poem is translate from http://hellopoetry.com/poem/warrior-of-tamriel-warrior-of-realitys-breath/ Zu'u faas nid nuz koraav pah, Dii dovah meyz fod Zu'u for. Zu'u imaar verin voknau dii hadrim, Ol nust swirl tuum tiid. Zu'u kriist firm ahrk faar, Waving dii zahkrii ko ven. Dii lein los nunon kein, Ol Zu'u krif wah juh. Nid uth vis gesaag zey fos wah dreh, Zu'u los Kinbokein do Keizaal. Dii bodein los do krilaan praan, ol dii noot everyday, los raal wah gor. Hi krif fah fos hi korah, Hi dir voth dignity. Zin yoz ko hin sostrah, Ol hi unt wah krif stin. Stinun prenlon fod Kendov kriist veyl, Rok uv rek fent kos, saviik wah lein. Tuum Lein do Taazokaan, Zu'u los Lokolteiren Rahzun, Ahrk Punah. Naangein vis kos kendov voknau strife, Orin tuum daar kein, Hi vis kos ges. Aav reid, Unad hin zen. Hi fent kos krongrahkei, Ahrk fen deserve Kendov Dinok. Jur thy dragonkin nu. Nust fen saraan hin arosend. Voknau hin dovah, Fent meyz thy untak. Kest riin tuum lok do Taazokaan, Ol Dovahkiin meyz, Wah Lein do Keizaal. Fus Ro Dah !
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
Remake
On the sidewalk standing in the rain the old man is a wounded dove. Longish white hair: wet feathers grounded in a storm. The rain is heavy and repeats itself, like buckets of water thrown out of windows. The old man stands there holding a memory or a wish. Under the streetlight his wet hair glistens like tinfoil. The downpour is a creature that’s eating him up. Darkness projects from a deserted apartment building. The ground floor windows and doors are boarded, nailed shut. It appears dead, like an old disease, or stripped, like a despoiled tomb. Its bricks cracked and crumbled, wooden casings dry rotted and helpless. Painted in bold red across the boarded front entrance, a graffiti-message: Girls Rule. Looking back at the old man, he stands the way a king stands alone when doubting himself. Dark crawls around him. The old man stares at the building. He is motionless, in memory. Rain gallops over him. Inside the warmth of a café, my steaming coffee. Outside, the streets are laundered clean of everyone except for the old man who stares at the apartment building. Time has grown over his face and body, has grown over the broken down building. Now the rain is as heavy as mucus and with his tiny body the old man shuffles away into the dark and gradually disappears like a casket being covered with earth. _______________________________________ from my sixth book-length manuscript ©dah / dahlusion 2014 / 2015 all rights reserved "In Streetlight, His Wet Hair" was first published in 'Switch (the difference) Anthology' from 'Kind Of A Hurricane Press'
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Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
In Streetlight, His Wet Hair
On the sidewalk standing in the rain the old man is a wounded dove. Longish white hair: wet feathers grounded in a storm. The rain is heavy and repeats itself, like buckets of water thrown out of windows. The old man stands there holding a memory or a wish. Under the streetlight his wet hair glistens like tinfoil. The downpour is a creature that’s eating him up. Darkness projects from a deserted apartment building. The ground floor windows and doors are boarded, nailed shut. It appears dead, like an old disease, or stripped, like a despoiled tomb. Its bricks cracked and crumbled, wooden casings dry rotted and helpless. Painted in bold red across the boarded front entrance, a graffiti-message: Girls Rule. Looking back at the old man, he stands the way a king stands alone when doubting himself. Dark crawls around him. The old man stares at the building. He is motionless, in memory. Rain gallops over him. Inside the warmth of a café, my steaming coffee. Outside, the streets are laundered clean of everyone except for the old man who stares at the apartment building. Time has grown over his face and body, has grown over the broken down building. Now the rain is as heavy as mucus and with his tiny body the old man shuffles away into the dark and gradually disappears like a casket being covered with earth. _______________________________________ from my sixth book-length manuscript ©dah / dahlusion 2014 / 2015 all rights reserved "In Streetlight, His Wet Hair" was first published in 'Switch (the difference) Anthology' from 'Kind Of A Hurricane Press'
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48
The Sukhumvit Rap   by David John Clare Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom! Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!   Well, she come in to Na Na town on dah midnight sky train, anonymous esan girl she a mysterious Bangkok dame Out of the nite shadows she will walk and magically appear, I'm telling you fresh forang you got some awful things to fear right here She can slave your mind in a minute without talk so lyrical, she's a modern Thai freak, a ****** miracle First She opiates his mind then double you'll see will loose all sense of time and then the trouble will be She knows what she is doing, her instincts are cold Forang men they surrender and just do what they are told Beyond the like of a dibbie girl as you are a sucker for her date she will leave your mind and body in a wicked deadly state A jealous girlfriend could now completes the scene as you walk back to your short time room near Pat Pong soi cowboy libertine...   If you get near her you hear the voice of a Thai Siren Don't you look at her don't you touch you'll start cryin' If you dare embrace her fool you will think you found a rare Silom Road Jem or Jewel? She can tear your heart out and she will do it with your own **** tool !   Tell The brothers not to look the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK!   You can tell by her moves and the slit under her dress she is a one trick thai pony ahead of you by her breast She got a photographic smile Greta garbo movie hair She can tear any man down with that Siamese cat like looking stare... Don't look into her eyes she'll control you blind you want to wine and dine her? ha, it is your mind she will sixty nine Shell try her best to allure you so now don't concede cuz if you touch her now boy your heart will bleed It is a hell of way to take a Thailand vacation but remember this; there is no way of ever stopping this ****** man killer creation.   Tell The brothers not to watch the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK! Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom! Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom! WINK!   (c) 2010 Clairvoyant Music / BMI Los Angeles CA USA  all rights in perpetuity by the author
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Bangkok Rap
The Sukhumvit Rap   by David John Clare Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom! Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom!   Well, she come in to Na Na town on dah midnight sky train, anonymous esan girl she a mysterious Bangkok dame Out of the nite shadows she will walk and magically appear, I'm telling you fresh forang you got some awful things to fear right here She can slave your mind in a minute without talk so lyrical, she's a modern Thai freak, a ****** miracle First She opiates his mind then double you'll see will loose all sense of time and then the trouble will be She knows what she is doing, her instincts are cold Forang men they surrender and just do what they are told Beyond the like of a dibbie girl as you are a sucker for her date she will leave your mind and body in a wicked deadly state A jealous girlfriend could now completes the scene as you walk back to your short time room near Pat Pong soi cowboy libertine...   If you get near her you hear the voice of a Thai Siren Don't you look at her don't you touch you'll start cryin' If you dare embrace her fool you will think you found a rare Silom Road Jem or Jewel? She can tear your heart out and she will do it with your own **** tool !   Tell The brothers not to look the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK!   You can tell by her moves and the slit under her dress she is a one trick thai pony ahead of you by her breast She got a photographic smile Greta garbo movie hair She can tear any man down with that Siamese cat like looking stare... Don't look into her eyes she'll control you blind you want to wine and dine her? ha, it is your mind she will sixty nine Shell try her best to allure you so now don't concede cuz if you touch her now boy your heart will bleed It is a hell of way to take a Thailand vacation but remember this; there is no way of ever stopping this ****** man killer creation.   Tell The brothers not to watch the wink of her eye, tell all of the brothers not to watch her WINK! Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom! Boom boom bah smoke yaba bah bah bah boom! WINK!   (c) 2010 Clairvoyant Music / BMI Los Angeles CA USA  all rights in perpetuity by the author
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0
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
Chanting, chattering.
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1
De Glendy Burk is mighty fast boat, Wid a mighty fast captain too; He sits up dah on de hurricane roof And he keeps his eye on de crew. I can't stay here, for dey work too hard; I'm bound to leave dis town; I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back When de Glendy Burk comes down. Chorus: ** for Lou'siana! I'm bound to leave dis town; I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back When de Glendy Burk comes down. De Glendy Burk has a funny old crew And dey sing de boatman's song, Dey burn de pitch and de pine knot too, For to shove de boat along. De smoke goes up and de ingine roars And de wheel goes round and round, So fair you well! for I'll take a little ride When de Glendy Burk comes down. Chorus I'll work all night in de wind and storm, I'll work all day in de rain, 'Till I find myself on de levydock In New Orleans again. Dey make me mow in de hay field here And knock my head wid de flail, I'll go wha dey work wid de sugar and de cane And roll on de cotten bale. Chorus My lady love is as pretty as a pink, I'll meet her on de way I'll take her back to de sunny old south And day I'll make her stay So don't you fret my honey dear, Oh! don't you fret, Miss Brown I'll take you back 'fore de middle of de week When de Glendy Burk comes down. Chorus
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2.3k
The Glendy Burk
Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Greybeards have summoned thee High Hrothgar, where they stay, Their Thu'ums at play... Fus Ro Dah, Fus Ro Dah, Your spirit is unleashed, In a whirlwind Untamed. Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Learn the deadly Dragonrend.. Shout it in glee, Bring Alduin to his knees... Travel north, Travel south, Travel all through Tamriel In search for a scroll... Untold. Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, Call upon your dragon... Clearing foggy skies In Sovngarde, where we lie... Bring him down, Down to the ground Relinquishing his power... Here lies the slain Alduin... Dovahkiin Dovahkiin, In all of your glory You brought him to his knees, A dragon, obscene... It will be told Forevermore This story of a dragonborn Who slay Alduin... Dovahkiin...
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May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
Song of the Dovahkiin
De Camptown ladies sing dis song -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! De Camptown racetrack five miles long -- Oh! doo-dah day! I come down dah wid my hat caved in -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! I go back home wid a pocket full of tin -- Oh! doo-dah day! Chorus Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag -- Somebody bet on de bay! De long tail filly and de big black hoss -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! Dey fly de track and dey both cut across -- Oh! doo-dah day! De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! Can't touch bottom wid a ten foot pole -- Oh! doo-dah day! Chorus Old muley cow come on to de track -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! De bob-tail fling her ober his back -- Oh! doo-dah day! Den fly along like a rail-road car -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! Runnin' a race with a shootin' star -- Oh! doo-dah day! Chorus Seen dem flyin' on a ten mile heat -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! Round de race track, den repeat -- Oh! doo-dah day! I win my money on de bob-tail nag -- Doo-dah! doo-dah! I keep my money in an old tow-bag -- Oh! doo-dah day! Chorus
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2.3k
Camptown Races
Tell me a story Cuddlekins! Rawr. Rawr. Grr. Rawr. Rawr. Grr grr RAWR!! Wow! That's a good story. Now let me tell you one. A story of a boy who was so afraid of being alone he put himself in the most amazing adventures. Imagine a beautiful forest in the middle of nowhere. Untouched. Unmutilated with. Un-everything. This boy, John, flew here and laid his case down and pulled out his violin. His music went. Dah. Dah. Lalalala. Doooo. Soft. Sweet. Charming with a twist of a faint memory on the tip of your tongue wanting to be known to the world. As he played on and on for hours the animals gathered around and fell to sleep. John inspired by his surroundings played more and more until there was a rustle in the distance. John didn't hear it but again and again the rustle of the leaves grew ever closer still. There was one animal who wasn't sitting at the clearing in the forest. It was the jaguar. He awoke and wondered where everybody went. They were no where to be found As he searched for his friends a scent caught in his nose. It smelled of food but an unfamiliar one. The long lost forgotten food that his ancestors once described. He chased it slowly turning every corner hiding behind branches, bushes, and bark. Finally he found his prey. He creeped slowly and attacked. All the animals could say was that 'ol jagy was at it again just a hungry beast. Not sophisticated or classy enough to understand music. You know Cuddlekins, I think it was on that day the rest of the animals discovered 'ol Jagy was deaf.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Cuddle Chronicle
Tell me a story Cuddlekins! Rawr. Rawr. Grr. Rawr. Rawr. Grr grr RAWR!! Wow! That's a good story. Now let me tell you one. A story of a boy who was so afraid of being alone he put himself in the most amazing adventures. Imagine a beautiful forest in the middle of nowhere. Untouched. Unmutilated with. Un-everything. This boy, John, flew here and laid his case down and pulled out his violin. His music went. Dah. Dah. Lalalala. Doooo. Soft. Sweet. Charming with a twist of a faint memory on the tip of your tongue wanting to be known to the world. As he played on and on for hours the animals gathered around and fell to sleep. John inspired by his surroundings played more and more until there was a rustle in the distance. John didn't hear it but again and again the rustle of the leaves grew ever closer still. There was one animal who wasn't sitting at the clearing in the forest. It was the jaguar. He awoke and wondered where everybody went. They were no where to be found As he searched for his friends a scent caught in his nose. It smelled of food but an unfamiliar one. The long lost forgotten food that his ancestors once described. He chased it slowly turning every corner hiding behind branches, bushes, and bark. Finally he found his prey. He creeped slowly and attacked. All the animals could say was that 'ol jagy was at it again just a hungry beast. Not sophisticated or classy enough to understand music. You know Cuddlekins, I think it was on that day the rest of the animals discovered 'ol Jagy was deaf.
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65
to get back in the water.... Have you noticed how Freaking WEIRD the media has become? I can SMELL THE FISH. Dah dum. Dah dum... Dah dum Dah dum Dah dum Lately I saw the cover of Bazaar Magazine. A model in a **** gold lame' Bathing suit... sexily draped Inside the maw of Jaws. What Is the nose of Jaws Coming vertically out of the Water reminiscent of? A PYRAMID perhaps? The pyramid is a symbol. Of Freemasons and THE ILLUMINATI. I always thought a friend of mine A bit touched. He told me that The 1% are all in collusion. That the Illuminati used SYMBOLS and scenes on the TV and movies (Pictures on the wall in the background, etc) as subliminal Messages for mind control. And to indicate subtly what is going on Behind the scenes. So they can get Their jollies by "telling us", without Really doing so, how we are headed For destruction. And how it will Take place. So they can LAUGH AT US! I don't know. I used to think The guy a bit eccentric... NOW I AM NOT SO SURE...
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
Just when you think it's safe
Some guy eats a ****** bat do dah do dah All I say is "fancy that" all the do dah day keep your distance, give me space do dah do dah remember do not touch your face all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day wash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok. keep your groupings under ten, do dah do day that goes for women and for men all the do dah day stay inside and don't go out do dah do dah the virus is all round about all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day wash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok. toilet paper's hard to find do dah do dah some folks have just lost their mind all the do dah day buying everything in sight do dah do dah i've got to say that isn't right all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day twash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok. if we all play by the rules do dah do dah and quit acting like ****** fools all the do dah day this will pass i promise you do dah do dah do what the doctors tell you to all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day wash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok.
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Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 5:01 PM UTC
Wash your hands
Terrible divides, steep creatures fishing from the fissures. Devil ties, honor cries telling of fable able love lies. Red rug **** from… Ah stomp down pound twice round. Let me in dearth harp melody killing me true internally. Over me, you do du thee or in one to learn to unseen these say said twas. What then spoke big loud a proud voice e bound red to set the turns in a state of decay. Spread death red pestilence. Broken brains with bad temperaments. To know this clever myth, in definitely one word siphon spell check commiserate in-consumption Only fitting to continue after that, twas broken in two-tone spits of ***** Oh how one can be so indiscriminate, yet be so in to it Suckling finger to finger, the artist and his soul slip through one another And **** there it is… why I am drunk, why so earthbound? No, No, that la-la-di-dah sing song, nickname, sick game Ah… already this is where I end, lying before the gate, spread in sprawls of my final death thrall, the spastic convictions, emotional token, so wholly holy that I am certain of this and this alone; they, folk of blend and contrast so steady will carrier this body through the gates, this world or that, bounce and then back, splendor in form, surrender to utter the weight of universal, expressions in the shade of totality Goodnight too.
0
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
Terrible Divides and Somthing else too
ah hear da dog a snorin and da heavy breathin a da wolf ah feel da wind a blowin and da chill dats brought in with it   ah see da tings dey creepin to da shadows where dey creach ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for shelta from da storm   ah feel a mighty shakin comin out chru da broken ground ah see a terrible storm a brewin in da distance waitin out its time   ah watch as tings dey change an no always for da best ah see da way dey act when dey done know dey bein watched   ah know da tings dey be doin now dey tink meh watchin ah see dey know, dey change dey tings dey do   ah feal da change she comin and comin for ya know dey change ah can na keep a runnin away des tings ah went an run to far   meh guess is da was da right ting ta do meh goin no betray da love dey sho meh   meh tinks ah done right by him ah wont betray ah can feel dah silance an da tension in da air   ah know da time she comin for meh but ah hope she no to soon ah see whas goin on an fallin down around meh   ah no goin to pretend no more, des tings bother meh so much ah no goin to hold my tongue when ah've been offend'd   ah no goin ta take tings da wrong way any more too much time be wasted ah got ta find where ah can stole away from da waves of questions raised   ah feel des tings but can na change dem no more than change shes wanted   ah hear da dog a snorin gettin after chasen tails ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for winter warmth   ah know how what wrong ah've done has come back round ah can see she been cryin she wares it on her sleeve   ah can see u no more smilin tryin headed for da bed ah know da whistle ah hear come runnin o da trouble, ah stay out
0
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 4:59 AM UTC
Da **** Dog He Snore
ah hear da dog a snorin and da heavy breathin a da wolf ah feel da wind a blowin and da chill dats brought in with it   ah see da tings dey creepin to da shadows where dey creach ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for shelta from da storm   ah feel a mighty shakin comin out chru da broken ground ah see a terrible storm a brewin in da distance waitin out its time   ah watch as tings dey change an no always for da best ah see da way dey act when dey done know dey bein watched   ah know da tings dey be doin now dey tink meh watchin ah see dey know, dey change dey tings dey do   ah feal da change she comin and comin for ya know dey change ah can na keep a runnin away des tings ah went an run to far   meh guess is da was da right ting ta do meh goin no betray da love dey sho meh   meh tinks ah done right by him ah wont betray ah can feel dah silance an da tension in da air   ah know da time she comin for meh but ah hope she no to soon ah see whas goin on an fallin down around meh   ah no goin to pretend no more, des tings bother meh so much ah no goin to hold my tongue when ah've been offend'd   ah no goin ta take tings da wrong way any more too much time be wasted ah got ta find where ah can stole away from da waves of questions raised   ah feel des tings but can na change dem no more than change shes wanted   ah hear da dog a snorin gettin after chasen tails ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for winter warmth   ah know how what wrong ah've done has come back round ah can see she been cryin she wares it on her sleeve   ah can see u no more smilin tryin headed for da bed ah know da whistle ah hear come runnin o da trouble, ah stay out
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29
Virginia Nicholson How To Build A House In N-Dimensions 1. Begin with lines, pencil to paper (if they could exist) drawing graphite arrangements, N-space reduced to one, a structure viewed in slices. Imagine the bathroom off the foyer, the den off the dining room, viewable only as inked lines, dit-dit-dah, a contractor’s Morse Code. 2. Progress to carpet squares, linoleum tiles, the coral paint pairs well with the eggshell trim.  Dit-dah-dit becomes something useful to the non-contractor, “door” or “Master Bedroom” or “x hundred feet of pipe.” Envision the imagined patterns hidden in the bathroom floor, the kitchen hardwood. 3. Move to volumes, solids, conic sections, height. One story, two stories, a basement, an attic?, take advantage of the introduction of 3D. Upgrade the closet to walk-in, needs more carpet squares. A snapshot of a family barbeque, Charlie’s height 1D penciled in to the 3D door, marring 2D eggshell paint. 4. Adding time, the house is built, ages, gets sold to new families with little Charlies of their own, new markings on the cupboard door, 3-foot-2, 3-foot-5, 4-foot-9. Grass fades from Kelly to sand to Kelly, saturation a cosine function with respect to time. The Zoysia starts in one, breaking ground in two, growing in three, a well-manicured 4D experience. 5-11.    Include the things invisible to us, objects on the order of 1 meter, orders of 10E-2 to 10E9 seconds. Five to eleven drip through leaky pipes, seep through porous flooring, get lost in iron-rich soil and oxygenated exhalations. Five to eleven stay hidden, wrapped up in Calabi-Yao manifolds smaller than graphite hills and valleys marking little Charlie’s height, stronger than the 2-by-4s and stone foundation keeping strong in 4D. Five to eleven circulate undetected, seven dimensions shrunk to sub-pinpoint size, keeping seven dimensions of unexplainables covered until their traces are seen in the blades of Zoysia.
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Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
How To Build A House In N-Dimensions
Virginia Nicholson How To Build A House In N-Dimensions 1. Begin with lines, pencil to paper (if they could exist) drawing graphite arrangements, N-space reduced to one, a structure viewed in slices. Imagine the bathroom off the foyer, the den off the dining room, viewable only as inked lines, dit-dit-dah, a contractor’s Morse Code. 2. Progress to carpet squares, linoleum tiles, the coral paint pairs well with the eggshell trim.  Dit-dah-dit becomes something useful to the non-contractor, “door” or “Master Bedroom” or “x hundred feet of pipe.” Envision the imagined patterns hidden in the bathroom floor, the kitchen hardwood. 3. Move to volumes, solids, conic sections, height. One story, two stories, a basement, an attic?, take advantage of the introduction of 3D. Upgrade the closet to walk-in, needs more carpet squares. A snapshot of a family barbeque, Charlie’s height 1D penciled in to the 3D door, marring 2D eggshell paint. 4. Adding time, the house is built, ages, gets sold to new families with little Charlies of their own, new markings on the cupboard door, 3-foot-2, 3-foot-5, 4-foot-9. Grass fades from Kelly to sand to Kelly, saturation a cosine function with respect to time. The Zoysia starts in one, breaking ground in two, growing in three, a well-manicured 4D experience. 5-11.    Include the things invisible to us, objects on the order of 1 meter, orders of 10E-2 to 10E9 seconds. Five to eleven drip through leaky pipes, seep through porous flooring, get lost in iron-rich soil and oxygenated exhalations. Five to eleven stay hidden, wrapped up in Calabi-Yao manifolds smaller than graphite hills and valleys marking little Charlie’s height, stronger than the 2-by-4s and stone foundation keeping strong in 4D. Five to eleven circulate undetected, seven dimensions shrunk to sub-pinpoint size, keeping seven dimensions of unexplainables covered until their traces are seen in the blades of Zoysia.
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7
The spirited light; the solar-like wind; breath with its passion; the sun’s copious ****** venom. I speak of everything and all things without caution: this noise inside my head; layers of high pitched harmonics; the compressed hours between birth and death; the heart’s heat ascending and descending; the end always beginning and again your Gothic eyes. I have been here and there, a prodigal hawk with the flavor of blood-kisses hovering like steam or mist or a weapon stirring the body’s carbonic magnetic motion; never the sky always the silence disclosing the stillness in death’s fantasy—life and death; love and loss; a fatalistic dream-reel as if two mirrors facing each other reflecting the same vacant image. I remember the faint trail of finger prints; my impatient pulse raced into yours. Deserted passions like roses each one dies the same way —our emotions mumbled through love and into the glazed elixir of a French kiss: In my arms you had fallen asleep not knowing I had left. —————————————————————————— From my second book: 'The Second Coming' ©dah / Stillpoint Books 2012   all rights reserved "never the sky always the silence"—from Andre' Breton Search Amazon: "the second coming/dah" and "in forbidden language/dah"
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Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
The Glazed Elixir Of A French Kiss
In this poem I am not speaking to you but to myself: As I write, sentences form their own voices, their own moods and opinions such as rebellions, loves, harmony and disharmony. The universe is not so perfect. My epiphany: A fathomless consciousness is composed of collective mind stretched across the magnetism of space only to exist as ambitious matter—dense and absurd, light and heavy; humanity has existed for thousands of years in cold-slumber; unconscious and inhumane; thrashing about in between life and death where in the final moment everybody longs for catharsis. ———————————————————————— From my second book: 'The Second Coming' ©dah / Stillpoint Books 2012 all rights reserved "in the final moment everybody longs for catharsis" —from Polish Poet Zbigniew Herbert Search Amazon: "the second coming/dah"
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
Everybody Longs For Catharsis
Late spring. Early morning. Horseflies in my dream, dissonant church bells, legless pigeons I wake to the light’s sharp angle that cuts this day open. A breeze stretches its wrap Lying here, dawn is brief like a banner slowly raised then dropped abruptly Rising from bed I slump a prisoner waiting for a beating The chilled air, a sword stuck into my skin Through the blinds a snap of sun my eyes rollback colors pop I stand barefoot and become the sum of a legless pigeon a horsefly’s faint buzz dissonant bells I think of my dream how it called me inward closer to the core a caravan of pine coffins lined up in the streets a future template Suddenly, church bells, a fly dead on the sill, a mournful pigeon’s coo. -------------------------------------------- from my sixth book-length manuscript ©dah / dahlusion 2015 all rights reserved "Horseflies Pigeons Coffins" was first published in 'Secrets and Dreams Anthology' (Kind Of A Hurricane Press)
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
Horsefly Pigeon Coffins
Pudding pops are good. Ba doga doga do dah.
0
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
Ode to Bill Cosby
Dancin'  shadow on dat wall, white-blues-boy sing yawl song, harmonica cry, guitar scream, to dat beat beat so sweet song, dat dancin' shadow is ah swayin' in ma head. Yawl blues echo like dat shiftin' breeze and shiftin' bayou winds in time dat blow so sweet, like da shiftin' silt and sounds on breezy thoughts about red fiery dusks. Yawl black shadow on dat wall dances like dah vanchee* in heat. Clamorous mixture is dat beat frum dat white-blues-boy smooth-song dat fills dat *** in heat of vanchee*calls and his shiftin' black silhouette on dat wall, dat smooth-song black man yawl becum... RW Dennen (c)  2008
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
New Orleans Soul-Blues Shadow A blues-poem
ah really hope mah words done fall on deff ears ah really hope dey hit home and squash all mah fears   ah really hope mah actions done land on blind eyes ah really hope dey too hit home an silance all mah cries   ah really hope mah love done fall on a broken hart ah really hope it hits home and keaps meh from fallin apart   ah really hope mah faith done find a fallin soul ah really hope it his home and leads mah to dah final gole      ah really hope ahm lisnin when dey speak ta meh ah reall hope wah dey say gets through an saves meh   ah really hope ahm ready when ahm called to prove ah really hope dey prove ahm worthy of her too   ah really hope ahm not da broken hart ah really hope da pieces can na be taken back apart   ah really hope ahm faithful when da sole come callin ah really hope dat sole done do meh in to da dien
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Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 3:14 AM UTC
In To Da Dien
Once upon a time           I wrote this poem because my friends are mean and said rude things on facebook. la tee dah tee dah insert deep poetic words I hate you all. (Grant, Jeff, and Emily.) I'm a poetic genius, *****
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 4:25 PM UTC
F you guys