"dang" poems
I hitch a ride on the Battle Bus,
Everyone else jumped out, I must.
I deploy my parachute below,
I glide my way to Moisty Meadow.
As I land I slurp some shields,
Extra health and a pistol I wield.
I loot the houses and **** the squads,
Which would not be possible without my mods.
I run from the storm throughout the game,
I post on the 'Gram that I won for fame.
Everyone that saw my Victory Royale,
Commented below and said "Dang, Wow!"
Now that I won, I'm the coolest around,
I walk down the halls with a figurative crown.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
She looks up,
Tears swelling in her eyes,
And looks into his,
Searching for a reason to hold out hope
She delays just a moment-
Waiting for a sign,
A wavering tear,
A slight gesture,
One word to make her worries disappear
She's hoping he will fight for her,
Dang it.
But instead, she walks away,
Stronger than ever,
Cradling a broken heart.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
Our family got the news today
Our bubba's gettin' hitched
Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen
Got our boy bewitched
He's sayin' that he loves her
He's making her his bride
She's the first to get him this close
Though not too many tried
We've got to get things ready
Send invitations and make candles
We've got to get the good jars out
The one's that still have handles
The minister is on alert
We've got to make some shine
Grandpa says he'll make some up
But, it will not all be mine
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
This time there'll be no shotgun
Like the last time for old Ben
This time the guns are empty
Not the way they were back then
The banjos will be tuned up
There'll be music in the air
The cops won't try to stop it
I think most will all be there
The ladies will be planning
Just how to serve up all the grub
While Bubba has to find a suit
And therein lies the rub
He's never worn a suit at all
Not even for a day
He's only dressed in coveralls
And that's how he's gonna stay
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
It'll be a **** dang doodle
A hell of a good time
It'll only be completed
When they run out of the shine
there'll be singing and some dancing
Underneath the harvest moon
We can't wait for it to happen
It cannot come too soon
There'll be readings from the bible
Which the minister will read
And as good holy Christians
Everyone will heed
There's sure to be some fighting
Before the couple say "I do"
I mean, they are both cousins
I'm gonna go...aren't you?
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
My dear summers dream was to the taste cream
Pass me the triple beam the microphone fiend
Back on the scene simplicity is your complexity
So amazingly like grace I be rockin' the place
Like we Studio 54 shut down the doors
Once the bubbly pours and the **** adores
Ya mental **** ya sentimentals and these new aged millennials
They too satirical I make miracles flow potholes
Creatin' mass mayhem your an inconvenience
Cuz of ya hesitance my presence is known
Without even being shown paragraphs of stone
Hard to crack waxing tracks like a shark attack
Felonious acts we never back down
Til my soul drown in the core of the earth
Royalties since birth new my worth they tried to mirth
At my pain tryna change the game cuz all these cowards
Saying the same thang got dang got dang
Time to chess box like Wu Tang leavin' a stain
On ya reign no tears though I'll be on solo
Rippin' up instrumentals ya know how we do so...yeahhh
From the Sunny to bees that make the honey
Sticky icky like my spliffs be call me smokey
Puttin' fire to mother natures forests check the creases I
unleashes
Rap game mafiaso so so better back back
Or else get dropped lika Domino so here we go!
Here we go!
With the ghetto jams love girls with the derriere's of Pam
Got **** once again it's time to slam
Mics harder than Shawn Kemp ya flows shrimp
That's why ya girl calls me Mr **** no limp
Slick as Rick hello young world tilt and a whirl
Catch the swirl of Qatar Pearls on the neck of ya girl
Suckas better know I'm coming with a blow
Harder than Bowe combined with a super glow
black Saiyan raps slayin' turntables layin'
So I can get wicked lyrics Pickett
like Wilson
Flows in unison formation
of words
Herds a violent surge
feel the purge
We high rising no disguisin'
knockin' out Suckas who jivin' ain't none survivin' ?
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
Her mind is corrupted.
The thought of *** is always lingering.
She's only 16.
Why is she having wet dreams?
She's such a ***
That little thot.
She's always wearing shorts or tights.
I mean, although the weather's hot,
that's still not right!
Her makeup looks nice,
Her curves are right.
But why does she carry herself that way?
She wants all the guys eyes on her.
Dang.
Such an attention seeker!
Her hair is right.
Her heels are high.
I gues you can say she dresses nice.
But wait...
Isn't it normal for teens to think about ***
Or even imagine it?
Everyone wears shorts in the heat.
She's not fat,
She's not anorexic.
She does have a nice figure.
When she steps out,
her shoes are nice,
her hair is nice,
her make up is right.
She looks fabulous.
She's smart
she has a good personality.
I guess she doesn't hang around girls because guys are cooler.
Most girls are just like me.
Judgemental.
She's actually pretty.
Pretty cool too.
She's comconfident about herself.
That's all.
Maybe she does it all for herself.
I guess it's just my mind that's corrupted.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
*is there nights still exist..
and helpless cries..
i always remember the part of missing stories...
i slept with dry eyes..
as the sun sets in the sky..
my hopes go along with it..
everything’s seem leaden in solemn..
until i’m alone again without you come into my night..
i guess i should be thankful...
at least we have one thing in common..
all i think of is you..
and i know that you do the same too..
when moon's climb in the leaden night slowly...
i can see your face figure in the stars..
don't you know that i’m always thinking of you..
i wish you’d think of me too..
if i wonder how this will work..
when you think of nothing but,
yourself, your poems, your life
and i can’t help but love the way you telling it into the poems..
but maybe this what the fate is..
a twisted series of two soul and mind's fused..
and maybe i’m destined..
to be the victim of my feelings ..
but how can i blame the fate..?
for something that i have control over...
i know you don’t thinking the same as mine..
and i know i’ve fallen too deep into my imagination of your figure..
you have them lined up..
just another notch on your belt..
am i the fool...?
am i the one who fell...?
but i definitely don't mind at all..
you twist my yearning around your sincerity...
and your lies around my words..
you’re the definition of beauty..
horror, pain, desire and love...
should i run...?
should i give up..?
sometimes i wish i could just sleep...
or never get wake up when i was dream of you..*
┈┈┈┈┈»̶·̵̭̌✽✽·̵̭̌«̶ ƦУ »̶·̵̭̌✽✽·̵̭̌«̶┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
apakah masih ada bentuk malam itu.. .
dan ketidak berdayaan sebuah tangisan...
masih teringat aku akan sepenggal kisah yang hilang itu..
saat kuterpulasi dengan mata yang kering..
bak mentari yang tebenam dilangit..
begitupun keinginanku yang melaju turut..
segalanya tampak kelam dan hening..
hiingga aku sendiri tanpa engkau singgahi malamku..
harus kusyukuri..
setidaknya kita memiliki satu kesamaan ..
aku mengenangmu ..
dan kutahu bahwa engkau melakukan hal yang sama ..
saat rembulan mendaki malam kelam perlahan ...
aku dapat melihat gambar wajahmu diantara bintang ..
tahukah kamu bahwa aku selalu mengenangmu ..
...... dang... why i should made two ver for my poems anyway.. lol.. just writing...
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
man who wears a hat sits still near the back unmoved by the world or the exposed breast of a statue (brain waves do not discharge through a fedora)
tag attached: bald is sanitary
oranges have more delicacy raw smelly and afterward singing allons enfants de patrie ding dang **** like that, all frog-ese so we don’t understand chanteused stiff basso profundo to excite to let us see with the clarity of a dream curled with hate set firm, firmer in the arms of a sleeveless girl then slung to sea level white as a leopard’s eye
remember its peroxide bathed, bleached inclined on the pillow just at the angle of expectancy without a hat sideward glance and the crippled heels of angels sparking down the hall
bulletin: young man willing to wear false beard to ease the pain for all
or trumpet blues broken played horizontal touched by seaweed hands in the light of boats (unfurled)
slowly
and the memory dies slowly half-forgotten, half-remembered
halved again
slowly
only
to begin
again
grim molecules of love
4.9k
There will come a day
When you will run out of second chances.
There will come a day
When everything you've ever known will be gone in an instant.
There will come a day
When disaster strikes
And you can't do a dang thing about it.
We all have become so prone to the idea of disaster.
We think that it will always happen to someone else.
But it can happen to you at any moment.
Your loved ones:
Gone.
Your possessions:
Gone.
Your life as you know it:
Gone.
In the blink of an eye,
Everything can disappear.
You are not safe from the evil of the world.
If anything,
You are at your most vulnerable point.
In merely seconds,
You could get cancer,
Or a tornado could strike your house,
Or you,
Or a loved one,
Could die.
This is not a call to scare you,
Or make you run away.
This is just to make you realize how special life is.
And how you should cherish it,
Every single day.
But most importantly,
Remember:
You can not run from disaster.
Disaster will strike you.
Just be prepared to take it.
And know that it was all for
The Better.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Free concerts
are full of potheads,
they get all in your ear
and start talking about
the land of milk and honey,
DENVER ******* COLORADO.
The beers cost
15 bucks
for pisswater
and barely a pint.
The girls
all wear pink spaghetti straps
sagging acid-wash jeans,
and a smell like
old milk.
The old people
dance.
the old people dance;
there wrinkly
pterodactyl arms
flapping as they swirl the air
with bad knuckles.
The air smells,
like sweat.
Sweat smells like
toilet water.
Free concerts are usually outside,
so hope to ******* Gaia that it doesn't rain,
because you're stuck there,
drunk and yelling
dancing and laughing
******* and falling.
Matt, Dang and Me.
We spent our summer going to free concerts,
because the girls that go to free concerts
think tattoos and ************* and toilet humor
is more ****
than money.
The old people dance with you
performing some type of necromancy
in the air
that brings dead things inside of you
back to life.
And the bud,
it's so ******* sticky,
and it causes a hacking
paroxysm of coughing
to the point that you can
taste the blood in your mouth,
because those people from
DENVER ******* COLORADO,
really know their ****
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:05 AM UTC
The devil's speech say they:
Rolling, clattering, frolicking, hungry.
Billows of charred skeletons embrace the air
Black soot pumped straight from the pyres of Hades
Congealing to clouds of evil intent wherever it roam.
That charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
In the coughing desert
Not a thing dares roam
Neither wind nor creature
And neither stick nor stone.
But then the silence disturbed by a horrible shriek -
The railway screams in horror and the train itself speaks, saying
"Tell me, thou innocent,
Why feel you special and best?
For when all is done I take you
And return you to my nest;
Your world is bright and happy
Full of high spirits and song,
Though soon you too shall step aboard
And join my faceless throng."
Hot saliva on the heaving engines:
Weeping, groaning, ghostly, parched.
Rusted joints spewed onwards grinding resisting
Movement spat out like a violently beaded string of curses
Sloppily uttered as incantations of a malformed mouth!
From that charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
That dark train cries out and all around
A mourning whimper rises like slumbering fog-
Bleak and yellow it obscures the land
Seeping out insidious in strange locales all:
The old lonely fisherman
Sleeping on his wharf,
The frustrated hawker's
Windblown barefaced booth,
Silent streets crying for attention,
Dark places hidden at the corner of every eye.
That solemn train cries out and all around
Her mourning whimper rises like harrowing fog
Calling all to upright attention and fear.
Looming like a spectre but a breath-span from your window
Slowly closing cold dread claws-
Naked numbness dumb as ice-
Cold dread claws upon thy waist.
And you,
You poor old thing,
Shivering in your pitiful shack of bones,
You never had any chance!
You were only human.
You were only human, you poor old thing.
Barreling on with brimstone slang:
Clang clang! Dang dang! Beelz Bub!
Sputtering an ocean of curses from turgid goat-flesh
Born of sadness to cause even more, yawning great maw
Jowls clanking with fresh hot oil drool steaming stark and lewd, and yet
That charred old shell so terse,
Blacker than sadness and slain like a hearse,
Is all that gives meaning to our every gain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 12:10 AM UTC
Look what the cat done drug in
Slow on down... darlin’!
Hol’ yo horses!
Don’t go get’n a conniption fit
Or get’n your knickers in a knot!
Hush up
Or’n I’m a goin **** a knot in yo tail!
I’m busy as a one legged cat in a sandbox,
but I’m fixin tell what we got here at JuJu’s
Now lookie here...
we got
crawfish mild spicy
crawfish medium spicy
crawfish spicy spicy
we got
crawfish with corn
crawfish with sausage
crawfish with potatoes
we got
crawfish with red sauce
crawfish with pink sauce
crawfish with melted butter
If y’all a bit dry...
we got
crawfish with canned soda
crawfish with bottled water
crawfish with beer
crawfish with BYOB
Or we gots
jus’ crawfish
Go on an pick how yo’ want yo’ crawfish spiced, then go on an decide what yo’ wanna add! I reckon we gots dang near 362,888 ways to eat these here mudbugs
You might could get
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage
spicy spicy crawfish with corn
spicy spicy crawfish with potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and corn
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage, corn and potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with corn and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with potatoes and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage, corn, potatoes
and beer
I could go on...
till I’m plum tuckered out... but...
Got it? You good??
You want mushrooms
Well, I’ll be
Don’t go axin... what we ain’t got
No siree bob, no mushrooms
We also ain’t got tea, sweet or unsweet
But sweet’s the only way to have tea sweetie
If you want soda, you can get
Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Dr Pepper
Diet Dr Pepper, Hawaiian Punch, Brisk Tea
Or Root Beer
We also got shrimp... just boiled
We also got gloves... half a dollar
Well, I’m worn slap out!
Watcha have a hankerin for?
Take your own sweet time!
Sit a spell
You’ll soon be full as a tick on a big dog!
Happy as a dead pig in sunshine!
You’ll wanna slap yer mama!
Can’t decide hon?
I do declare!
Aren’t you precious?
(now... he startin get on my last nerve)
Still...can’t make up your mind?
Well... I can’t do it fer ya!
(bout aggravatin as a rock)
You picky?
(Lawd have mercy!)
Bless your heart!
© 2019 Jim Davis
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 11:41 PM UTC
Smooth, strong, deep, therapeutic.
Hands playing on my skin like a virtuoso pianist.
Stroking, kneading, pressing.
With every stroke, his hands melt my stress.
Sooth my pains, physical and mental.
My anxiety fades. My mind rests.
Stroking, kneading, pressing.
His hands are sensual.
His eyes are closed, so his hands move on their own.
No distractions. Just natural. Instinctive.
Stroking, kneading, pressing.
I’m open and vulnerable, self conscious.
But his hands even sooth my flaws, and imperfections.
Press against places I keep covered.
Unflattering angles I would rather keep hidden,
But somehow his hands seem to find beauty even in that.
Stroking, kneading, pressing.
Dang....the hour is up.
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 12:08 AM UTC
Oh. sorry for disturbing you but
I forgot my toothbrush.
Oh I am so sorry. I left my spare keys on the mantle.
Oh my bad. Could you look in the closet I forgot my heavy jacket.
Oh dang. I forgot my purpose.
Oh by the way. I forgot to love you.
Goodbye my love.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
Someone asked how old I am,
and this was my reply;
“I’m about as old as the dirt
that’ll cover me when I die.”
I’m the oldest dead person living,
according to Guinness’s book.
A record once held by a bible guy,
but one from him I took.
Friends who have all gone before
wonder if they should fret.
They think I’ve likely gone to hell,
‘cause I’m not in heaven yet.
I have grandkids in rest homes.
They don’t mind it there.
But when I go to visit
you should see the people stare.
Went to a senior Citizen’s club
‘til the day that I was told,
“Sorry, but you can’t come back
because you’re too **** old.”
At my last birthday party,
all the candles lit the sky
Fourteen cakes to hold ‘em all…
Three fire trucks stopped by..
So, you want to know how old I am?
Well, that’s just too dang bad
At my age I can’t remember squat,
and really….I’m kinda’ glad.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 9:41 AM UTC
The Milkman Cometh
It could be Margie or it could be Pearl
bringing us our refreshment we trust
though we are all old dead beat boozers
we still enjoy sweet cookies dunked in lust
we waited for Hickey for as long as we could
to get this party off with a bang
but we've waited long enough I say
time for a grand toast gosh dang
Rocky gave us the okay to get started
but he asked us to leave Cora alone
she was busy baking a surprise cake
for the captain who was finally coming home
Hickey finally shows but wont raise his glass
says he sees better now that he's sober
but he couldn't take the kiss from her lips
and quickly began to disrobe her
got milk they all yelled as the night wore on
the police finally shut it all down
the chocolate had been spilled everywhere
the news was all over the town
Gomer LePoet....
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
Frustration does me no good
It hurts, neglects me & builds resentment
I want to overcome my frustration
I will do it too
But for now, I am too dang frustrated
to get over my frustration
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Dont hate me cuz I am beautiful
Looking Hijabi-licious for Allah, devoutly dutiful
Shaking your head at me cuz I cover
Wouldn’t take you nor your wingman as a lover
Glaring at me crazily cuz I’m veiled
An ocean of chastity you’ve never sailed
And you’re all alarmed cuz I’m devout
I’m hijab-tastic! Not even a single toe is out!
You can quit cat-calling me too; Cuz I’m chaste
Aint’ no welcome sign wrapped ‘round this waist
Tryna peer pressure me cuz I’m concealed
And ain’t out here tryna cop a feel
Pontificating that I’m oppressed cuz I’m different
“miss Muhammed is much too modest, we like ‘em ignorant”
And you’re kinda curious cuz u cant cuddle this Jelly
Joker, Lord knows ur stupid tail ain’t ready
So don’t hate cuz you, your boy, and your girl cant touch this
I’m a female manifestation of feminine justice
*********************************************
And girl, now you’re just jealous cuz you think he likes it
Said “wonder what her hair’s like when she unties it?”
Yeah She’s hoping to high heaven that I’m hot in my Hijab
So she can get me to join her in flashing flabby flabs of abs
Don’t be mean to me cuz real men find me appealing
Kindly consider concealing all the cleavage you’ve been revealing
You’re surprised because our boss recognized my mind?
Could it be because he isn’t busy admiring my behind?
I heard there was insane party where the office nicknamed you Lil “Miss loose & cray cray”
Oh, Dang. Anyway, they nicknamed me Lil Miss gotta go pray pray
You out here hating cuz my beauty is discreet
But if I was half naked, girl you know you couldn’t compete
So later for you, your lewd dude, and your half **** crew!
It’s not your pleasure that I seek
Allah, the Beautiful Fashioner, formed this physique
Verily Allah made everything valuable a challenge to achieve
Pearls, diamonds, gold, heaven, and— yes!— even ME
He, Almighty, offered me a trade treaty,
His commands for my Destiny
So I traded in ****** for decency
I traded in popularity for modesty
And I’m trading in your knuckle-headed opinion
For His highest heavenly dominion
Hijab-ulous 4 life!
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC
I wander into this dark, misTearYous room
—and there he was...and wow! What a Fig!
He with the long, lustRuse hair,
sitting at a corner table, nursing a cup of hot cocoa.
Dang. He has better hair than I do!
“I’m a gin at Ion’s,” were his first words spoken.
“I’m a gin at Ion’s.” And then sighlens.
I was trying to look through his lens, and figure out his sighs,
when he utters, “I can see you are number—“
“Huh? I am number what? I don’t see any lines here..."
“Ah, yes you are, as I was... NumBer as in more than numb.”
Epicfunny!
He definitely got me, he with the misTearYous eyes
so I sit down and ask him what he means
(but I refused to ask how he saw through my numbity)
“What do you mean that you are a gin? And where is Ion’s?”
“Exactly just that. I’m a gin at Ion’s. A **** t’Eve.”
He tells me that Ion’s is nowhere, everywhere and knowhere,
of how anyone who takes even a sip of that gin can hold on to it—
too much, so much so, as to lose that grip on ReAhhlity...
I ask him what he does there.
Seemingly one word, two meanings—
"aMuse," says he...
He reveals he is also part-tickles, part abs-tackles
then he also exhails at wind ‘o pains,
to fog or clear up views and relayshunships...
But oh! How at one point he felt tieurd, of how he had so many callUses—
numb, tired of how it reCurse, of always being called upon, of being used
Sighlens.
Been used So many times, he didn’t know who he was anymore...
a Duke at Ion’s,
a con’s front at Ion’s,
an ex pecked at Ion’s,
a lucid at Ion’s,
a rebel at Ion’s...
Oddly enough, even if he has been ‘d sign at Ion’s,
he still felt blahtantly invisible,
even if at one point he wore only a V-bra at Ion’s!
He chalks everything up to exPeerience, and has learned from it.
And that's why he's also known as a sensei at Ion’s (his personal favorite)
He says even if he can go beyond infinity, he—
He stops (ah gain!) and yes, there it sneaked in...Sighlens.
Telling me through the void, through his sighs, through his lens
To close my eyes, and figYour out myself.
And then I do...
ReAhhlieZing how much I could relate,
how I have been in DenyAll of my possiBElities.
It is all a matter of perSpeck'tEve, of looking at each tiny speck of life,
of creating something from each of it, entire universes even—
boundless
How odd that I myself felt like I'm a gin at Ion's...
Scrunchscrunch...Imaginations.
Addictive, yes, so I best be careful with where I take it.
I oh!pen my eyes and the fig meant to show me ReAhhlity had gone...
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 1:12 PM UTC
Listening to George Jones.
Or Mel Tillis.
Or Maybe Mickey Gilley.
I'm just a country boy listening to a country song.
Good loving.
Or a good feeling.
I'm just a country boy listening to a country song.
Listening to the original Statler Brothers.
Singing Flowers on the Wall.
Or Marty Robbins singing My Woman, My Woman, My Wife.
There's nothing greater then a good country song.
Whether it's by Johnny Cash.
Or Johnny Paycheck.
Or Roger Miller singing Dang It.
There's just nothing like a good country song.
Sure they reminds you of the blues.
Or the blues reminds you of country.
Either way the message is cleared.
There's nothing like a good country love song.
Throw in some Tammy Wynette.
Or Loretta Lynn.
Or play you some Dolly.
And you'll see the story happening.
Cause there's nothing like a good country song.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
I'm curious
if there will be an us.
If I'll have a plus
one
to all these weddings coming up.
I wonder
what you're thinking...
If you'll ever know that I've been dreaming
of you
of all the things we used to do
And all that I hope to do.
I wonder what you think of me,
how you view what we used to be
If you hope to find a different side of me
Because I want you to see
all of me.
I'd open up to you
If I knew for sure that we'd make it through.
And I don't doubt that I will anyway
Because I have some things I want to say
to you.
Some things I want to finish, too.
I want to pick up on that last conversation
that we had
where I ended up so dang sad
Because I never considered the idea
But I think I knew somewhere inside
And still, all I wanted to do was hide.
But I've conquered the fear, I think,
of knowing what's inside of me.
And you know my demons
and you were there through the fight
You're the only one who held me while I cried.
Thank you for always being there by my side.
I just cant help but wonder
after all this rain and thunder
(as if it will ever end)
You'll ever be more than my friend.
But you know what they say about curiosity.
It kills.
So does that apply to dreams?
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
.
oo
oo
oo
oo
o oo
oo oo
ooo ooo
ooo ooo
oooooooooooo
oooooo
**•an
eternity it
seems like•dang-
ling your hook in the
sea of life•hoping for bre-
am, salmon or pike•one of
which would make the perfect
wife•many a fish in rivers and lakes
•plenty more awaiting in oceans and seas•
many would do whatever it takes • battling
the days' heat and nights' breeze • wishing
upon many moonbeams•followed by
• the passing of indifferent •
sun-rays •waiting an
entire lifetime
it seems
•just to
finally land
that coveted catch
of the day
• •**
.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
the pages of my notebook are probably more lovelorn than i'll ever be
idk
i never longed to be a tree burying my roots deep into Her soil, moaning
okay maybe i did because sometimes i only exist in crumpled up shreds of graphing paper between my awkward handwriting and
things i wish i'd have told you,
residing at the bottom of the ******* bin
(we're all writing about somebody)
fundamentally, i only exist between the blue lines and the margins
i want to be a tree again
Mother Earth is a **** (i mean, dang bruh, she's beautiful)
want my roots reaching as far into her as they'll go / want her attached to me in every way possible / want her in every way possible
i want to stay here forever
if i fall alone in the forest **** right i'll make a sound:
symphony of the lovelorn branches in C-minor except it's not really a symphony i'm just giving an impromptu solo to my ******* bin,
i have played the viola since 6th grade and
heartstrings since 7th
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
I was once in a rough & gruff biker gang
figthing with tough as nails bikers, dang
and I knew all of the sick biker slang,
but then I woke up when my cell phone rang
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
I want to smush my face in a big fat delicious frosted cake,
and blow out candle after candle and watch ice cream melt
as I dig through the moist sugary cake-bread with my fists,
and I eat everything I want in this delicious, nice restaurant
I want to pout at anyone else who makes grumpy faces,
I am the **** queen so it's my gosh **** party, dang it
I want to drink until I almost throw up and then do drugs
and grab ******* and scream with laughter and true fun!
I want to flash strangers and get birthday kisses and hugs
I want to smear lipstick all over my face, I want GLITTER
I want to roll in checks from relatives in far-off places
with the clothes and money and drugs that I will buy
I want to cry big crocodile tears over wrapping paper
and wear a pretty crown and take pictures, please yes
I want to smile so hard my cheeks hurt, ouch, and get away
with being a little ******** because I'll say sorry tomorrow
I want firecrackers and free things and fun fun fun fun fun fun fun
because it's my birthday, and I get to do whatever the **** I want!
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
'Sneaky''
he's watching your every move
awaiting for you to fail
once he sees your back is turned
he'll pounce over the rail
he's eyeing your every step
snickering upon its lips
once he sees he has a chance
he'll break out and zip
low and behold the watcher
no one knows from whence he came
once he thinks you surely failed
he'll swear to do it again
cowering in the corners
awaiting for you to subside
once he thinks you are gone
he will no longer hide
he's watching your every move
awaiting as to attack
dang cat isn't so smart
Master is coming back
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC