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Brian McDonagh May 2018
Curveballs can be hit,
But dodgeballs are impossible to dodge.
Comparing dodgeball to a summer’s day?
Shakespeare, try again.
Dodgeball, you are synonymous
To a hellfire confined to a perimeter
That destroys everything it touches,
Especially at summer camps.
I walk away from dodgeball alive,
But dead in self-esteem:
Always getting hit,
And any clever maneuver of mine always seems to be a violation
Of game rules.
Dodgeball, you only fuel my aggression.
When I am the only one in play,
And see beyond the half court line
Stronger, more agile and athletic demons
Ready to pelt their confidence against my hope,
My mind defaults to “bad-sport” ideas
And just wants to get the match over with,
Lose or win.
With a POW!
Or even the slightest brush of orb to skin,
I give in
And have to wait until opposing victory cheers melt
Before grudgingly submitting to a pointless rematch
That tortures me, vaccinates me with sulky feelings.
Crying over spilled milk is negotiable,
But I cannot undo the rash from the whiff of a dodgeball
By screaming “That’s so not fair!”
Instead, I force out good sportsmanship,
My eyes wincing, my throat and mind hardening
In the struggle to keep vengeance contained.
If only the interest in dodgeball would cease
And suffocate on the taste of its own humiliation.
Boy, would I ever love to burn some dodgeball rubber.
Never liked dodgeball...and probably never will lol.
Kenna Nov 2012
During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.

How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
What are you thankful for?
-----------------------------------------------------------­------------------------------------------------------------
What­ am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.

I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.

Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.

I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.

I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.

I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.

I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.

I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.

I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.

I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.

I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
-----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------------------
How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word  is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
For my dearest, lovely Isabelle <3
I **** my enemies
I got critical strike
on all my nemesis
I ain't got hybris
Running for my life
Running with my dear love
Away, dodging all problems
We do not get killed
We are the perfect team
To win a dogdeball match
I once got on a dodgeball team with my crush, and we won! That totally maded my day
Zuzu Petal Apr 2014
His nose was Cairo’s Bent Pyramid or a pair of ergonomic pliers
And his loyalty was a slumped tower of Jenga pieces
And his skin was a film of thick oatmeal or cream of mushroom soup, coating the bottom of an untouched ***.
His teeth, little tombstones sinking into the earth.
His logic was a pair of safety scissors chewing through corrugated fiberboard
And his insults were sharp staccatos
And his humor was a steeped tea bag or curdled milk
And his laughter was a Singer sewing machine choking on tangled thread.
His eyebrows were gargoyle wings
And his hair, a bushel of dry bear grass  
He sang, and it was cough syrup
And his beard was a soiled litter box.
His fingers, dried seaweed
And the palms of his hands were month old dish sponges.
His spine was a curved dipper gourd rotting in the sun
His grin was a snagged zipper
And his temperament pad-less brakes or a wasp in September  
And his kisses were apple cider vinegar and radishes
And his eyes were two bottomless stone wells, foaming with moss.
His gait was a vulture scrutinizing its prey.
His chest was the backside of a dung beetle.
His insight was a cataract ridden car headlight lost in a curtain of fog
And his knees were skulls
And his touch was a snug pressure cuff  
And his compassion was a guillotine
And the last time we spoke, it was crucifixion.
Take me back to the days of a Ghanaian sunset.
When hope dwelled above the waters of despair
And I gazed into the eyes of a sinking soul.
Where trust and fear were honest and pure --
Felt in the mountains, cities and fishing boats alike.

I want the hot air, the mango juice dripping down my hand, the dirt kicked up around my shoes, the roosters in the streets, the taxi cab dodgeball games, the eggshell passenger rides, and the shy children singing across from me on the shore. Because I want it all back.

It's the feeling I had when I was there in a wide space so open -- it is a feeling I call free.
Ted Scheck Jan 2014
I'm a Prisoner Trapped Inside a
Little Rectangular Marvel
Which knows, to six decimal ...'s,
My position on Earth

And the irony is that...
Electronically found,
I feel lost.

Way before we knew about
Jeep *** EssSs...
I lived 300 miles away,
In a little town called
Bettendorf, Iowa.

Few days after last
Christmas.
I made the journey
Back. To the
Former.
Place I existed, survived,
Lived, thrived (albeit briefly)

I took my family with me.
Or, I went with my family.
The four of us in the same vehicle,
Anyhow.
300 miles in December.
There was snow everywhere
Else. Not on the road, thank
You.

You leave bits and pieces of
Yourself in the place that is
The home for your feet, blistered
And toe-stubbing sidewalks and
Your hands grasping frozen Gym-
Door handles on Minus 10 Saturdays
When you bundle up and slog 1.3 miles
To play Dodgeball all Saturday afternoon.
(And returning it's twice as cold and dark is
Edging its fangs over the dim, muted horizon)

You sweat in the summer. Profusely,
Drops of the stuff watering brown
Grass. You bleed in the snow,
Stark red on even pastier
White, though it feels
Painful only in the abstract.
Sometimes numbness is better
Than painness.

You get blisters from raking leaves
In that season that seems
To have gone palavering somewhere
East of here.

These fringes of leavings, like
The tiny toenail clippings you spy
As you use a foreign bathroom, balefully
Eyeballing someone else's Medicine
Cabinet of Curiosities.

So we went to the place
Formerly known as home.

You can travel a linear or
Non-line-like distance back
To the place where you cut
Your teeth on life, and life cut
Its own bicuspids on you, but fading,
Fading,
Only the shimmering
Ephemeral memory of an
Equally diaphanous memory
Of those teethmarks exist.

Or, succinctly put:
The past is dead.
Long live the passed!
(But not the vaporous
Kind)

Still, we pine for the earlier
Times, younger and much,
Much more innocent, gull-
Able, even: When time had
Not yet painted and varnished
Us so much, the years piling on
Our faces deeply and thickly,
Lined canyons of worry criss-
Crossing our brows, the feet
Of those ****** crows nestling
Where our eyes end in points;
The sagging, the
Lowering of once springly,
Spritely flesh. 3 chins.
Since when do I need two
Extra chins?
**** you, Gravity!
**** you to Heck!

We travel back on new
Roads over the great
Old ones that used to be
Concave asphalt trips to
Anywhere and Nowhere
Special, they all were, even
The ones that led to hilarious
Dead ends.

Wow! There used to be a
(Insert memory here)
But hey! Lookit that!
A Yarn Barn. Hmm.

And oh! I lost my
(Insert memory here)
In that very back parking
Lots of Tots? What kinda name
Is that for a Pre-School!
Open on CHRISTMAS? Whaaaat?
My hometown has lost
Its mind.

And then silence, as the
future that passed us by
Reasserts itself so strongly-
It might as well be screaming
At us from useless billboards
Selling crap we don't need.

This place is a foreign
Country to me. I don't know
When it stopped being home
And now, I really don't care.
Let's do this thing, family, this
Familial obligation, and then kick
The stupid dust from this town
Off our tailpipes.
Go, Bettendorf!
Go, Bulldogs!
Go, next-town-over!
Go on with your bad
Selves.
Because, people of these
Towns, in 30, or 25, or 12, or
4 years, you'll blink, and find
That you no longer recognize
The place you can't call
Home any longer.
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
Fireworks are a blast
Until they go off
In your garage
With you trapped inside
adam hicks Aug 2013
when i was young
i drew hearts that looked like the letter "B" -
B for battle
- for bullies
- for boys who would sting me
a thousand times over
and i worry about my allergies.
when i was eight i was a cub scout
enlisted in a group on how to become a man
i didn't want to play dodgeball,
you stupid ****
i just wanted to sit back and look
at the other boys in their uniforms
my heart pounding like a moth on glass
i promise that i will do my best
to keep it inside of my chest
to try and suppress the urge
to walk over to peter
and kiss him like i ought to kiss girls
well, i didn't earn many activity badges
and i never won a game of dodgeball
but i've washed away the shame,
come to learn it's okay to kiss boys
like i ought to kiss girls
infact,
it's
*******
great
Clifford Smith Aug 2015
Suited up as I try to maintain
In this ground cracking weather.
Heavy bags on my back
And artillery in my hands.
Goggles dusty
From the blistering sand
That slice my face like razors
With every gust of wind.
The scorching temperature
Is on hell and every breath
I take is so dry that my tongue's stiff.
One canteen,  a few packs of food,  
And a mission to complete.
My boots are laced,  
With my feet feeling like people
Trapped in a burning building.
The further I go the more my body
Feels like it's being cremated.
I must reach my destination....
As helicopters pass through
Dropping explosives the size of a
Small child with the impact of
Several meteors hitting the earth.
Running like a track meet and
Maneuvering like a game of Dodgeball.
Gunfire,  bodies,  and thick smoke
As I bypass fallen aircrafts.
Approaching my target which
Will be my final destination.
BOOM! I found myself airborne to
Only hit the ground in unconsciousness.
BEEEEP! Is all I hear as I try to get
Up and regain consciousness.
Just a little over a hundred yards to
Go with a blurred vision
Feels like a lifetime.
As I'm reaching my target with
Bullets whistling pass my ears....
It's time. I set up my shot....
I hold my breath
Heart pounding with adrenaline
I'm studying
I'm focused
I'm ready....
POW! As my 50 caliber jerks
Back into my shoulder kicking
The dirt off the ground like a horse
At the Kentucky Derby.
MISSION COMPLETE!
As I'm going home with a bad case
Of paranoia and a Metal of honor...
I still have disastrous flashbacks
And ****** nightmares.
But....Nothing compares to that
STORM in the DESERT.
I have never been in the service but I can only imagine what those guys who have been go through. #R.I.P. To all fallen soldiers that fought for our country bravely. #SALUTE
Bob B Dec 2022
I've been playing dodgeball with COVID,
And up to this point, I have succeeded
In dodging the many ***** tossed my way.
I haven't let warnings go unheeded.

True, it's been a wild game,
And all the ***** sing a medley
Of different tunes; some are muted,
Some are stronger, and some are deadly.

As they all go whizzing by,
I twist, I turn, I shelter in place.
Protecting myself as much as I can,
I'm finding it hard to keep up the pace.

It's an equal opportunity
Virus, for COVID doesn't care
Whom it hits. Whoever gets
In the virus's way had better beware.

Extra precautions help us immensely.
Our chances are better that we won't fall
If perchance we're caught off guard
And suddenly get hit by the ball.

Some folks are pelted ever so slightly,
And as each one of them disappears
From the circle of COVID escapees,
Other folks are knocked on their rears.

The ***** keep flying. The game gets even
More befuddling, more demanding.
It makes one wonder if any of us
Can win the round and be left standing.

When this game's over--if ever it is--
Will a new one have its say--
A brand new virus, much more virulent--
A new game we'll be forced to play?

-by Bob B (12-29-22)
Matalie Niller Jun 2012
Let's go for a naked dip-
my bathing suit is cute but so is my birthday suit-
oh egg head
don't fall and crack
spill brains and embryo everywhere,
not good for the kids at all
might leave mental scars on long-term memory
let's get tatted like good old native americans
I am Chief Awesome
you are Franchise Emperor
pouring fries and salt into my arteries,
slow, delicious death
why must thou be so appealing?
Don't be so stupid
taste buds are my best buds
blooming like beautiful bulbs in berry season
blossoming
absorbing flavors and releasing neurochemicals
oh so sensible and seductive
get a hair cute Mr. Scrutiny,
you are outdated and overrated
Power-aded lemon-tossed
concluded in cuddling under stars and blankets
blame the infantry
they couldn't save themselves
poor things
just doing duties
just not all appreciated
but we do the appreciating
graphite collages and collagen fills
spill orange juice on tables
perpetually sticky
dodgeball eyes
yes we will be friends.
Alexa Sz Jan 2011
Morning

the alarm goes off
I wake up
I turn it off
I go back to sleep
My mom or dad comes in
they wake me back up
I lie in bed
for 10 more minutes
then I get up
I go to the bathroom
and stare at myself in the mirror
I sigh...
I pretend to wash my face
I go back to my room
I stare at my closet
and decide what I'm going to wear
I get dressed
I go down stairs
I eat one of the following items:
oat meal
   -Chocolate chip
   -Maple brown sugar
   -apple cinnamon
Whole wheat bagel with almond butter, peanut butter, cinnamon, and/or jam
cereal if there are any good options
   -Peanut butter bumpers
   -GOOD granola
   -organic chocolate *****
with coconut milk
toast with the same things as bagels
I say good morning to parents
I argue with my sister
I drink my orange juice
eat my vitamins
bring my stuff up to the sink
go up stairs
I lie on my bed
I go into the bathroom
I brush my teeth
I go downstairs
I pack my backpack
I pick out some shoes
I yawn
I go to school

School
I go to advisory
We play cake(a game)
First class
I space out
I draw pictures
unless that class is of the following:
PE
Writing lab (if it's not about grammer or spelling)
Art
Music(Because all the string instruments make it impossible)
I go to math
I get too confused to know what the hell is going on
I go to writing lab
we write and then teacher goes into some speech about commas
I go to french
I have no idea what the teachers talking about
I go to PE
If we aren't playing soccer, basketball, dodgeball, batmitten, capture the flag, or volleyball than I ****

Lunch
Yay!
I eat
I talk
I chill

More classes
Art
I tell my teacher how much I love her outfit
I read the board
and I make art

Music
UGHHHH
THE TEACHER IS SUCH A GRUMP!!!
I listen to her yell at people
I play my instrument

Study

Almost done with school
I finish a bit of homework

Going home (Or going nordic skiing)

I get a snack
I do homework
I have dinner with the family
I do more homework
I get ready for bed
I read
I go to bed

Every day is the same
the weekend is just a bunch of chores
hanging with friends some times
and stay up late watching my favorite shows:
Bones
Glee
CSI NY
CONAN
SNL

Ugh I need a change.
Ryan Jakes Jun 2014
Messages from strangers
Speak of waging war.
Go play jump roap,
Marbles, hopscotch.
All are fine playground games
British bulldog or dodgeball
tag or kiss-chase....
What's the time Mr Wolf?
Games....so many.
skyler molina Apr 2014
I appreciate you for kissing me when no one else would & holding my hand no matter how cold it was;
& for always remembering that i'm more delicate than your lips & this kind of love can only happen once;
& the fact that I always loved you more, but you somehow always showed me more love;
& no matter how angry I made you, you always forgave me because you knew that the ocean would sink itself if it could;
& for always crawling past the bad times, because you knew how beautiful the good times were; because you knew how beautiful we were.

If you ever read this I want you to know:
The one thing I loved more than your smile was the way you smiled at me;
& the reason I couldn't love you any harder was because I put all of my love into writing about you, not actually giving that love to you;
& I forgive you for giving up on me, I would have given up on a fully lit moon also;  i'm sorry I couldn't illuminate the night sky every night for you;
& all of the reasons I couldn't kiss you as hard as I wanted to were all the same reasons why I want to die with you in my arms;
& the way you used to look at me felt like skydiving with no parachute on, or being the last one standing in a game of dodgeball, or sinking to the bottom of a bathtub that's filled with your love & affection, or running a marathon while running on no hours of sleep, or seeing the moon for the first time, or realizing that the love we had is more meaningful than any high paying dead-end job, or traveling the world, or feeling something for somebody they said was an impossible feeling.

If you ever read this I want you to know, thank you, for everything.
Maddie Wright Oct 2014
Birds of a feather flock together,
which explains why I don't have many friends.
I'm an outcast even on the island of misfit toys.
I'm your childhood doll,
we're inseparable until you outgrow me,
until you stuff me in the bottom of your closet
for me to wait for you to take advantage of me again.
"Best friend" is a foreign expression
when everyone you let your guard down for rids themselves of you like the shedding of old skin.
I'm the last one picked for dodgeball,
for partners in English class,
for weekends out,
for a phone call,
for a text message.
If friends are supposed to be forever, I guess I forgot to read the fine print.
I'm what happens when lonely is less an adjective and more a personality trait.
TheBroet Feb 2018
Trip or dive
Slip or slide
In the end...
Does It Matter?
Life is a game
In the end...
Did you thrive?
Or merely
Survive
Brianna Jan 2014
I want to go back to when I could curl up in bed and Disney movies would make everything feel better.
I could watch Peter Pan and feel as though Neverland was around the corner waiting for me.
As though all the princesses really got to live happily ever after and I didn't know that their lives were probably ****.
Take me back to when I didn't have bills.
Or rent.
Or work.

Take me back to when happiness was a simple crayon drawing of the sky and some grass. When stick figures were considered great art!

I want to go back to before I knew what heartbreak was. Or how hard it was falling in and out of love. Before I knew that boys meant something more than just playing dodgeball with and girls were more than just a pretty face they actually had your back.

I don't know how I ever thought being a kid was so hard when being an adult is so much harder and much more sad than being a kid ever was....
I have never felt this lonely before
TR Saucier Nov 2012
Playing outside
Do kids still do this?
Breathing fresh air
Getting scrapes
Bee stings
What happened?
Texting
Games
Facebook
These have taken over
We hooked cups to strings
Made our own games
Our social network was our neighborhood
To go back to those days
Get the band aids ready
Get your sunscreen out
Lets go out and play
Fresh air
Sun shining
You dont have to buy a game
Combine things
Baseball with a football
Trampoline dodgeball
Sockball
Those were the days
So, lets go out and play
And enjoy the easy things in life
DAVID Mar 2015
my everlasting eyes,
shine, at the sight,
of you, and your eyes,
deep as the sea,

mi everlasting soul,
bares a curse, heavy
and strong, the shine of
those eyes, in a time,
give the broken heart hope,

the chance was given, and
not accepted, now is all over,
almost lose my freedom, the pedofile's
cousin, and your corrupted and
lying **** up world, disgust me.

the backwards world,
and the loss of freedom,
was the end, of it, you lose
me, now you know, what
you want.

finding, what you lost,
is a chance, but find it in
someones elses eyes.

my everlasting heart, can't died,
but, suffers like a human heart,
the zen monk in me, is out
of your lying world, out of my life,

never a friend, or a lover, just
a lying world sended,
trying to con me, not interested
in a crying game,
je sui templer, mon chere.

truth is part of me,
she is my faith, mine,
and the world's renaissance,

the sacred ancestor,
of some of my family,
your world,
the transginger world,
girls on ties,
playing dodgeball,

burning templars
like if i could be burn,
or destroyed,
i shot my head after 22 years,
of pain and deceit,
not even i, could **** myself,
you putts

and maybe in some way ,
i could love you.
and still miss you,
but not a gay boy mate,

so keep the gay boys,
and carrie on, find some truth,
in your life, truth is more,
than the ****, is a state of mind.

is the sacred moto, on the heart of a lion.
keep the chu chu train, the give and take crap,
and be free, and out of my life.
after all, i'm too sweet for a tv girl.

my soul is everything,
don't know if you even have it,
or lost it, for being there, but c'est fini
mon cheri, c'est fini, je sui templer,
even science is templar, under the new
brake truths.

so, all is forgiven,
even the pato yañez, even the lies,
i can see you love me ,i know,
but sometimes, we lost what
we don't know we want.

cause, after all the lies,
after all those gay boys,
still you want, a man in your life
all is over, and keep the faith
relax and be free, away from me.

no favors, from this,
old everlasting soul, maybe i
could find some love, know what you want
alive and kicking, and ready, for it all.

nothing to say, if you have something to say,
say it to my face, and vaya con dios,
away this everlasting ship, has sail.

from the other side of the world,
i say, keep those friend's of you,
and stay, the **** away from me.

and make it count,
i can see your end mate,
alone and wrinkled,
and bitter to the bone,
like the wife of the creep,
the male dog on a wig.

my everlasting heart, is ready
for some truth, after all the lies, of
your creepy, world of WANKERS,
NEVER MIND THE *******,
SOME OLD FRIEND SAY,

my heart is  healthy,
and operative,
this everlasting heart, and this
everlasting soul, is gone,
from your beautiful, but deceiving eyes,

maybe some sweet sweet barbie ,
with a mind and soul, and a heart,
or some bellissima, or even
that **** and sweet clown.

farewell,mi bitter sweetness,
keep the one, who think is me,
that crazy transginger, whose
fatal attraction,made a titanic,
of the droit ship,

they are out of my life,
and with them are you,
out of me.

you lose me, at pato yañez.
you and all your gay boys.
this heart is deep and black,
and ready for use.

can't help, but not look at you anymore
listen avientame, by cafe tacuba,
the urban myth wrote that,
but he's not writing no more,
no calls and no favors, for the one
trying to save a creep, ask paula ***** for help,
or the little ****, no wait, they are inside me,

after the rapes and the harassment,
trying to save, what they destroy,
but keep on rapping, that is out
of my life.
and you are proud of defending a child molester

vaya con dios.
lose me , can't be with you, adios.
Tony Anderson Jan 2019
Two teams
One on each side of the court
***** lined up on the center line
We stand focused
We stand ready
Waiting for the GO

The Whistle blows
Off we run
Like bullets being shot from a gun
Run to the center
Grab a ball
Then throw

Grab the *****
Throw them about
But do not get tagged by an opponents ball
Or else be called out
Lucky Queue May 2016
L--- is the thick, adrenaline-wrought catharsis of a summer rainstorm on the highway at night.
It's the ridiculously advantaged team in a game of dodgeball;
and the hail in March as you run from work to close your car's skylight;
and the wave that rakes your hair with the teeth of the sand and surf;
and the pebble on the downhill ***** that your bike trips over and you fly off, eyes wide and gracelessly flailing;
and L--- is the way you lose yourself in the cosmic threads of their eyes;
and the breath you forgot you were holding.
5.30.16
Today I graduate
I realize how short life is
It seems like yesterday I was on the playground
Playing dodgeball and other rowdy games
Picked last from the bunch but kept smiling
I was always the shorter one
The weaker one
Inside I always was stronger
Stronger then even Hercules
Middle school I was pushed around
Bullied for being myself
But I still stayed strong
High school I made real friends
I could be myself
Now I will be starting a new chapter
The book of life is only just beginning
I am the acorn on the tree
I fell far from it
One day I'm going to be a bigger tree
My life in a nutshell
Literally
Just finished my last day of high school forever in existence and I decided to write this poem thing. Hope you like it.
DAVID Apr 2015
the shadow in the corner,
looks at me, whispers,
and whispers, at me ear,

looking for a way, to
become and merge with me.
as an insisting parasite,

as a shadow inside me,
but  futile, and vain,
i'm too egotic, to let him.

enjoying my years of pain,
as a heartless man,
but the whispers, share his
childish flashes, a futile pursuit.

to myself, to be merge,
with creeps, cowards,
and annoyingly vain.

the poets secret crown,  of
lovers in heaven, golden and
invisible, but made of pain.

cover my head, as a dead poet,
passing at this era, not blind or
vain, but true, and loving every girl.

even those i hate, the sexi hip bones.
the ego of a lion, never can be merge,
with a creep, pathetic and weak,
but he tries still.

wise by pain and deceit,
a lover in the prime, longing,
loving, watching, smelling them all.

with or without, gauche or droit.
tout le femme, e belle et magnifique,
comme le pleure de madeleine,
le sacre femme.

and this shadow, in me ear,
wants to be me,and make them feel,
complete and divine, as a goddess.
as y make them feel.

or a lioness, in the hand of a fouling,
and feverishly beast. burning and longing,
for the tresor, in their chalis, as mother earth,
smelling as her, as a jungle, and a door,
to infinite delights, between their thighs.

the shadow in my ear, y can see her pain,
but, it was his ******* choice, trie to be me,
and didn't make it, for being weak.

as an adult, inside the veil,
of a mouse's in a suit, the persistence
is futile, a shadow, trying in vain,

to be as me, but can't be but himself.
a lame little shadow mouse, in loved,
with a beast, can't love until she love
herself.

can't live or know anybody,
until he knows himself, and accept
his truth, until that happens, nothing,
will save him from him,
and his shame, is a cross.

as a man, can't live, as a boy either.
just as a shadow, in my body, trying to be me.
but failing at it, to weak and vain, to be me.

all y think, as i watch her, is thinking,
and for this  ****,  almost burn my ***,
and destroy my life, good choices, babes

but all wrongs, can't be forgiven,
or excused. all the pain was
hell on earth, but still unbreakable.


and loving even those that y still
hate, the lover's love even **** haters.

covered by lies, y emerge from the hell

some girls create, for the one, who wasn't.
an they where never me.
and now anyone can see. it was only
lies and deceit, little girls playing dodgeball,

for the shame of the creeps
not everything can be forgiven,
as y say,  good choice babes.

20 years later, they still can't be me,
or not feel ashamed for their weakness,
or accepting their fate, and being without
feeling a ******* disgrace,

but nothing to
be ashamed of,
just their cowardness,
like tigers not accepting
the stripes,

creepy shadow on my wall,
you will never be me.
accept it and be free,

or you'll end up blowing lucy,
in the basement, loving the burning,
of HELL.

as THE shadow of a mouse,
in Lucy's playground,
suffering, and being only
you, the one you hate.

but you never were me.
RATATOULLES SONG F REGRET, AN FOR HATERS S EDTED NOD AND SORRY FOR THE SPELLNG, SPELLNG POLICE, M PAYNG MI TICKET, SO BACK OFF HATER.
storm siren Jul 2016
A sensation
Of cold air
Shivering
Chattering teeth.

I'm back sitting by the chain link fence,
Waiting for them to pick teams for dodgeball,
Or basketball,
Or what was it?
"Fred" ball?

I remember looking for you.
Wondering where you'd gone.

It was overcast,
I could smell the rain coming in.
First time I realized,
It was late in fall that I remembered,
Snow had a smell.

And dragons and dogs and animals filled our days at school,
We played games, different name, same game of tag over and over
When at home I'd go back to the screaming,
To the cold,
To the hunger.
A girl and her dog,
Wondering what her friends were up to.

Black outs and ****** paper clips
Turned to livid men and bruised abdomens and hips.

And every other month,
During September and January,
I wondered what would have happened if I had
Given you that valentine I threw away.

I want to tell you so many things,
But how do I tell you,
How do I tell you
I care more than
I knew.

I was shivering when I got home,
Teeth clattering,
Bad day,
Tears in my eyes.

I put on my nightgown,
Your sweatshirt,
And wrapped myself in a blanket,
Wanting to hear back from you.

Is it odd
That I don't know how to say
You've made my day.
I hope you know
I was okay without you,
But part of me is a little (a lot)
More whole by your side.

And sometimes I think of your laugh,
Then and now,
And I remember
The butterflies then,
And the warmth now.

And it's just ******* crazy,
Because I was a little bird,
With a broken wing.
Who was convinced I couldn't fly.

You were the bluebird of peace,
I had been searching for
For so long.

And I could listen
To your voice
Your heartbeat
Your words
All day.

I don't know what this means,
But it's easier by your side,
Than any place I've ever lived,
Any halfway house I've ever been.

I've always wanted to belong,
And finally I can see
The problem wasn't me.
It was a me without a you.

Tonight I want to dream
Of spiraling sunset red and soft oranges
Draped over a background of
The most beautiful seafoam blues and greens
I've ever come to know.
To my bluebird of peace (he might be offended if he knew that's what I refer to him as)
Barton D Smock Apr 2014
mother of the hour-
I have
no clue
which.

-

dodgeball, no one sad.

-

praying mantis
eating blood
from a bowl
of dreams.

-

toy phone
imprisoned

why, toy phone, has wheels
ask

your father.  

-

here somewhere
my nose.
Ty Apr 2017
You were fire
And I was rain
Somehow we convinced ourselves
That we were the same
Our ideas, sure, were not all that different
But our personalities
Collide in the distance

You played with my heart
And I played with yours
Did you know
I was silently keeping score
No matter how much you plead
You were never enough for me

Oh wait
I said that wrong
I was never enough for you

I'm not the only girl
In the world that feels
As if my heart is a guitar
Plucking the strings
Until they snap back
Like rubber bands
In Chemistry class
When all they boys
Use it like a toy
Whipping each other
Leaving marks
Like they do with our hearts
All they ever do
Is tear us apart

See I’m not that pretty
Funny, or small
I'm not even close to tall
My skin often gets compared to ****
But i'm suppose to sit
And pretend like I don't hear the names behind my back

Because of these things
I get no respect
Because of these things
My life is a mess
Like my bedroom floor
On a Saturday night
Because Sunday is clean day
And then we can wash
Our emotions away

Monday’s a new day to start again
We can pretend to be friends
And laugh in the halls
Fake just like my barbie dolls

Acting like someone we’re not
Hiding who we are
So we don't get shot
With words so cold
They’re basically stone
Breaking our bones
With each strenuous throw
Like dodgeball during gym class
You must be fit if you wanna pass
The games people play
To destroy everyone else
Who cares if it's not affecting their health
Just the ones with the mental illness
Because believing you don't belong
Is so very wrong

But that's why we drink
We feast
On the broken ones
Who are incomplete

We steal parts of them
To fill the caverns of our heart
Empty from the diamonds
That had been stolen inside

They say we are poor
But we have wealth
Full of depression beyond despair

The horizons we seek
Cannot be seen
Through the peephole
Of sight we are given

No
We are taught

Our actions are learned
To behave this way
To treat others like they're nothing
Much to my dismay

And in a perfect world
My words mean nothing
But we are not perfect
Nor will we ever be
All we can ever do is plea
That we treat others like we want to be treated
Like we’re in elementary school again

But don't you understand
We accept the love we think we deserve
So how can the love we give be any worse
Than the love we choose to hold for ourselves
How can we determine someone else’s wealth
When we can't even begin to describe our own

You see
I was rain
And you were fire
Flushed with desire you tried to climb higher
Tried to push yourself off the ground
You burned so high, too high
That's why I had to drown
Out your flames
Until they were no more
Until you were soaked to the core

Gone were the days
Of hot and humid
Yes I know
It was kind of stupid
But if fire took care of rain first
It might have ended much worse

You see you were fire
And I was rain
And no matter how hard we tried to convince ourselves
We will never be the same
b e mccomb Sep 2016
the past
how frightening

(i got to thinking
too hard today
this morning driving
by my past)


the thought that what
we call tomorrow will
soon be what we call
an elusive yesterday

(choke your way through
asthmatic games of dodgeball
and forward rolls on blue gym mats
friday midnights of twirling and
swirling through some
bb-gun pockmarked
plate glass reflection of the
lonelier girl you used to be)


that the moment we
put a thought down on
a page is the moment it
no longer holds control

(drown in the square idea
of blue glasses of water under
your chair and a thousand
and one calibrated mistakes
a one-millionth of a light-year
distilled to a drop of sweat)


because it's just
plain gone and
nobody can get it
back except in retrospect

(i think i spent a lifetime
of ten and twelve a.m's
sliding over the
worst of your tiles
but ten and twelve
a.m. are very different
times and that was a very
different lifetime ago)


growing up is
the worst when
it's done in the
worst ways

a childhood to
exist and a
lifetime to
forget.
Copyright 8/11/16 by B. E. McComb
Poetic T Apr 2020
I like to blow bubbles In the rain,
           to see them play dodgeball

with the raindrops.


And as they  floats beyond my sight,
           I see the sunrays glisten off them,

Pocket rainbows floating above my head.


Its the little things that bring a smile to a day
Ashly Kocher May 2018
Mother may I?
    Red light, green light
Tv tag
     Hopscotch
Skip it
     Riding bikes
Kickball
    Redbutt
Dodgeball
    Climbing trees
Collecting acorns
     Raking leaves
Catching lighting bugs
      Street lights on
Back on your property
      We still have fun
Playing outside
     Huge group of friends
Endless possibilities
     When we were young
Can we go back to that again?
Before the age of cell phones were the best of times, can we rewind the clock and go back to our younger days. Always outside playing games, having fun and having no worries. Amazing memories with all my friends.
Robin Carretti Apr 2018
I could see for miles                    Up $ Up
Why so difficult to move
a smile stay put to raise      so upliftingly +
A new existence a phrase
You could move miles          2-  Praise                            
                                                                ­  
                                                        way up and away  
You're voicing the big hit         uptowards you
Mentally sing rejoicing            
The slightest smile                                                          
 ­ Where did it go??                                      

I see your smile sadly

Oh! No

Down
Move the frown
Miles way down                                  

Smile*

Oh! no  downward
          10
           09
            08
             07
              06
              05
              04
           ­   3 times
              Love me more
              Amore'
              Mentally
              Chosen 1
                     On 1
              One more chance

              Oh! God



Godly wait the smile++
Welcoming so inviting
"The Meeting" his smile
How it timed us the door
Smiles hit us through the floor
Winding moving staircase
What goes up must come
down picking up
Their smile's the love pair

U-R going down
Somewhere mentally
Bonded together
physically

Hot-headed The Pillsbury
Dough man you are the
Miles of lovey
He's "Gooey Oh! Joey"
smashing

The cool landing
You were marked
"The Given"  To give and love
but feeding the poor    
The next time your           
   "Smiley face"  
                                                      
  ­  Brings
more lifts
More gifts @ the door
Gifts of happiness
God first
Not always about being
first class

Having any luck? love labeled

Such a sprinkled mind

Mental telepathy
Mentally everything

Wearing his College
school ring was something
The bell rings
swinging jazz pitch

In school remembering
the lost and found
His eyes were striking out
Dodgeball telling her

He didn't want to lose her
She made the Robin Joy Fly
the home run became all her
She won him over the shooting
Stars "Godly smiles nothing
compare to their love look above
Mentally we all need a smile escape relax and sit back and enjoy the smiles

— The End —