"dobs" poems - Hello Poetry

Gotta take a ‘selfie’ before I’m outta bed Mum calls me down for breaky - Open Facebook up instead My sister dobs me in – I tell her to take a hike Quick up load the photo, and hope I getta ‘like’. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says it isn’t healthy, my sister says I’m ‘psych’ Take my Ipad into class, gotta get the high score English teachers raving – But poetry’s a bore She catches me on ‘chat room’ and takes away my phone Beg my friend for last year’s modal, I gotta getta loan. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says I should get healthy- I take a gopro on my bike Grumble to my parents – Life just isn’t fair I haven’t got my Iphone and no one wants to share Mum doesn’t want to hear it, she has no sympathy Just as well there’s X-box, and by Mp3 Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Don’t tell me to think healthy, I think my brain’s on strike.

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Jun 22, 2015

Jun 22, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC

Seriassly

'Gotta Take A Selfie' - by Azura Skye

Gotta take a ‘selfie’ before I’m outta bed Mum calls me down for breaky - Open Facebook up instead My sister dobs me in – I tell her to take a hike Quick up load the photo, and hope I getta ‘like’. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says it isn’t healthy, my sister says I’m ‘psych’ Take my Ipad into class, gotta get the high score English teachers raving – But poetry’s a bore She catches me on ‘chat room’ and takes away my phone Beg my friend for last year’s modal, I gotta getta loan. Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Dad says I should get healthy- I take a gopro on my bike Grumble to my parents – Life just isn’t fair I haven’t got my Iphone and no one wants to share Mum doesn’t want to hear it, she has no sympathy Just as well there’s X-box, and by Mp3 Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’ Don’t tell me to think healthy, I think my brain’s on strike.

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If I take too long in the bathroom, it is because I write poems about you while I **** Sometimes typed, sometimes portrayed by morse code: tampons in a wicker basket and toothpaste dobs. I can form your ***** exact in inches and vein just using these utensils in the mornings because I am seventeen and you have just been inside me or inside my reveries. I have enough memories for an old woman and had enough *** for an old man. To be happy, I must feel you swimming through me even when our date-water leaves and sometimes I get wet writing, remembering. If I take too long in the bathroom, it is because I write poems about you while I **** If I take too long in the bathroom, I know you are listening in the room next door.

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May 10, 2013

May 10, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC

sarina

plastic sheets

If I take too long in the bathroom, it is because I write poems about you while I **** Sometimes typed, sometimes portrayed by morse code: tampons in a wicker basket and toothpaste dobs. I can form your ***** exact in inches and vein just using these utensils in the mornings because I am seventeen and you have just been inside me or inside my reveries. I have enough memories for an old woman and had enough *** for an old man. To be happy, I must feel you swimming through me even when our date-water leaves and sometimes I get wet writing, remembering. If I take too long in the bathroom, it is because I write poems about you while I **** If I take too long in the bathroom, I know you are listening in the room next door.

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May I have your attention please This is not a hoax There have been reports Of a mass suicide Death count has reached over 800,000 per 1,000,000 people per year Most commonly happens to youths and females This is a plead with the nation A global catastrophe So please listen and try To understand what is happening In our society today When you see a young adolescent Comment on how hard he works Not on his skin color or his preference in clothes Nor his ideas about life When you see a female Don't call her ugly Don't call her fat Don't disregard her in any means Compliment her on her eyes The way she smiles Make the world a better place If you see a youth in distress Offer some assistance This Is A Public Announcement Please do not disregard A life might just be saved If you listen for once Help your fellow man out We are all we have This is Robert Guerrero With DOBS News saying Thank you and goodnight

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Jul 8, 2013

Jul 8, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC

robert-guerrero

This Is A Public Announcement

May I have your attention please This is not a hoax There have been reports Of a mass suicide Death count has reached over 800,000 per 1,000,000 people per year Most commonly happens to youths and females This is a plead with the nation A global catastrophe So please listen and try To understand what is happening In our society today When you see a young adolescent Comment on how hard he works Not on his skin color or his preference in clothes Nor his ideas about life When you see a female Don't call her ugly Don't call her fat Don't disregard her in any means Compliment her on her eyes The way she smiles Make the world a better place If you see a youth in distress Offer some assistance This Is A Public Announcement Please do not disregard A life might just be saved If you listen for once Help your fellow man out We are all we have This is Robert Guerrero With DOBS News saying Thank you and goodnight

34

There's something about paint That begs to feel skin Something about How smooth it is, How it can rise and fall in little dobs and smudges. Sometimes when it's very late And I am painting and my palette is a whirl of color I press my palms right into the middle of it Like a child And I settle them there, making sure every ridge and wrinkle is covered. When I pull back and see the design I always like my hands much better than before. And then I think Why stop at hands? I stand and strip off what clothing I'm still wearing And look at my body in the mirror, All white and shining in the dimness, a sliver of bone And I make it different with my hands. Handprints. I have always wanted to do it with a lover- To cover her in painted handprints and have her cover me, To wear the evidence of every place we touch In the colors that blend on our skin. Alone in the mirror, I place careful palms on my stomach, my legs, my ******* my shoulder. I do it until I like the dissymmetry of myself. I step back, And wonder why I feel that I look more natural like this Than bare. A tumble of black hair, a sheath of white skin, And on it Crimson Gold Azure Onyx Fiery orange and icy blue Poison green and violet Blood red and blushing pink All swirled and smudged, holding the shape of my fingerprints, And I am more me Than I was before. Later it will dry and crack like clay. Later I will shed it like a second skin, fascinated by its uneven splattering. It will slough off, painless and mesmerizing, and I will be what I was before- A sliver of bone. But for now I am a canvas, and tonight, for once, I have not been left Unaltered.

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Jan 4, 2015

Jan 4, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC

mikaila

Canvas

There's something about paint That begs to feel skin Something about How smooth it is, How it can rise and fall in little dobs and smudges. Sometimes when it's very late And I am painting and my palette is a whirl of color I press my palms right into the middle of it Like a child And I settle them there, making sure every ridge and wrinkle is covered. When I pull back and see the design I always like my hands much better than before. And then I think Why stop at hands? I stand and strip off what clothing I'm still wearing And look at my body in the mirror, All white and shining in the dimness, a sliver of bone And I make it different with my hands. Handprints. I have always wanted to do it with a lover- To cover her in painted handprints and have her cover me, To wear the evidence of every place we touch In the colors that blend on our skin. Alone in the mirror, I place careful palms on my stomach, my legs, my ******* my shoulder. I do it until I like the dissymmetry of myself. I step back, And wonder why I feel that I look more natural like this Than bare. A tumble of black hair, a sheath of white skin, And on it Crimson Gold Azure Onyx Fiery orange and icy blue Poison green and violet Blood red and blushing pink All swirled and smudged, holding the shape of my fingerprints, And I am more me Than I was before. Later it will dry and crack like clay. Later I will shed it like a second skin, fascinated by its uneven splattering. It will slough off, painless and mesmerizing, and I will be what I was before- A sliver of bone. But for now I am a canvas, and tonight, for once, I have not been left Unaltered.

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