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"dodged" poems
How treacherous. How boring. It was a time between three and four. A time between eleven and one. The pre-emptive witching hour. The incidental grey area. My mind was a-buzz. My thoughts were flashing. I knew not what they were, But I was morose and melancholic. I could not work. I could not sleep. I could not think. Chaos had become my order. And infinity had become my moment. Then, there ahead of me,   Stood two women, Straight and strong. One was a Siren The other, a Muse. I thought hallucinations. Perceived ideas through a ******* mind. But alas, they were real. I touched them and reacted. Warned against their poison. Their mercuric tongues. Their stolen hearts. Their arachidonic souls. And their odd Tsavorite eyes. They walked. I followed. Into a labyrinthine hive, They sauntered. Nonchalant angels, Indifferent to my stalk. In the centre, there lay An abyss. They sat on the edge And beckoned me Forth. I accepted, curious, yet cautious. And through the Song of the Siren, And the Myth of the Muse, The blackness beckoned. I fell, I flew to my mind’s end. Accepted my descent, unknowingly. The air was still. The tunnel black. And I landed softly. Alone. Safe. Hungry. So, I walked to the edge. The Siren waited. Offered her tail And walked. Crawled into smoke, was a Rat. The Siren pointed, then followed The smoke. Rat awoke, to run to my foot, Up my leg and towards my shoulder. Rat pointed too, So I walked to the edge To appear in water. Glistening and moist Stood the Muse, With a smile on her lips. Again her tail led me, As Rat jumped to the Muse. We glided in the water, Blinded in the dark, Until we reached a cave, having dodged the rocks. Inside, I was left, Save for Rat. The Muse flew off, a smile on her lips. Drowning, by my waist, was a rodent. Erinaceous and small. I lifted it up and placed Hedgehog on the opposite shoulder. Hedgehog thanked me, And showed me the way. A niche in the rock. We entered, all the same. On the other side was a bed. There lied the Siren and the Muse. Seductive and Bare. I was pulled forth. Their tails were strong. Their tongues were mercury. Their hearts were stolen. Their souls were arachidonic. Their eyes were Tsavorite. I was poisoned all along. In vapid lust, Morose passion, Melancholic ecstasy, It ended. They have left me Only with Rat and Hedgehog. Here I will die. Led to be abused. All that shall be known Of my boring and treacherous Witching hour Is this story. I dedicate it to The Muse, The Siren, Who are but one girl. And to Rat, Hedgehog and me Who is but one *******
0
May 30, 2011
May 30, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC
The Muse and The Siren
How treacherous. How boring. It was a time between three and four. A time between eleven and one. The pre-emptive witching hour. The incidental grey area. My mind was a-buzz. My thoughts were flashing. I knew not what they were, But I was morose and melancholic. I could not work. I could not sleep. I could not think. Chaos had become my order. And infinity had become my moment. Then, there ahead of me,   Stood two women, Straight and strong. One was a Siren The other, a Muse. I thought hallucinations. Perceived ideas through a ******* mind. But alas, they were real. I touched them and reacted. Warned against their poison. Their mercuric tongues. Their stolen hearts. Their arachidonic souls. And their odd Tsavorite eyes. They walked. I followed. Into a labyrinthine hive, They sauntered. Nonchalant angels, Indifferent to my stalk. In the centre, there lay An abyss. They sat on the edge And beckoned me Forth. I accepted, curious, yet cautious. And through the Song of the Siren, And the Myth of the Muse, The blackness beckoned. I fell, I flew to my mind’s end. Accepted my descent, unknowingly. The air was still. The tunnel black. And I landed softly. Alone. Safe. Hungry. So, I walked to the edge. The Siren waited. Offered her tail And walked. Crawled into smoke, was a Rat. The Siren pointed, then followed The smoke. Rat awoke, to run to my foot, Up my leg and towards my shoulder. Rat pointed too, So I walked to the edge To appear in water. Glistening and moist Stood the Muse, With a smile on her lips. Again her tail led me, As Rat jumped to the Muse. We glided in the water, Blinded in the dark, Until we reached a cave, having dodged the rocks. Inside, I was left, Save for Rat. The Muse flew off, a smile on her lips. Drowning, by my waist, was a rodent. Erinaceous and small. I lifted it up and placed Hedgehog on the opposite shoulder. Hedgehog thanked me, And showed me the way. A niche in the rock. We entered, all the same. On the other side was a bed. There lied the Siren and the Muse. Seductive and Bare. I was pulled forth. Their tails were strong. Their tongues were mercury. Their hearts were stolen. Their souls were arachidonic. Their eyes were Tsavorite. I was poisoned all along. In vapid lust, Morose passion, Melancholic ecstasy, It ended. They have left me Only with Rat and Hedgehog. Here I will die. Led to be abused. All that shall be known Of my boring and treacherous Witching hour Is this story. I dedicate it to The Muse, The Siren, Who are but one girl. And to Rat, Hedgehog and me Who is but one *******
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105
I swear to god I am going to die, My heart beats irregularly, The seconds passing me by, Wide-eyed and trembling, I can feel my eyes twitching, The iron flowing through my arteries, Oxygen diffusing through my lungs, The decay of cells, The renewal of organelles, All in a blink of an eye, I imagine falling out of my chair, I should yell, Scream even, But it passes, I move my hand from my chest, The flesh over my ribs still red, Nails embedded in my skin, Hair swaying in the breeze, Jesus Christ I can’t take it, I’ll throw a chair, Write a final letter, Call someone and tell them I love them, I know this is it, The feeling of finality, If only I had more time. I wake up today, Having dodged yet another bullet, The power button on this computer is cold beneath my finger. I’ll sit here for hours. I still can’t believe it, I should have died yesterday.
0
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:13 AM UTC
Lunatic
11/24/2017 Everybody says i dodged a bullet But the bullet landed As for the trigger, was it him or me that pulled it? I thought he helped my heart expand its hard to think i even could with Both feet braced on solid ground Our situationship wasnt planned I know its hard to understand From the outside its easy to brand me Can we analyze every time i noticed how masterfully he handled me? I understand that time is the only poultice But for a moment Id like to be candid please The bullet landed and it travelled It ripped a path through my flesh Day by day i ate less and less Let this be as many lessons As you can manage to pull from this The side pieces and the rest is all fluff and ******** He put strings on my heart and pulled it And i danced and said “how high” And my soul became dull it became harder and harder to wake up every day Is it ok to say the only redeeming quality is that he never struck me? But i wanted to escape the pain of being stuck he told me never, ever again to cut He didnt see that he was the reason i needed release The Mona Lisa was out of luck Finally the bullet festered The pain became so great And the benefits so much less The bullet ripped a path I cut it out and sealed it back Now the bullet is nothing but waste And i can find a new way to relate New tissue to create It takes talent to close, to suture they say “Approximate, dont strangulate” And now the bullet is disposed So they say i dodged a bullet But the bullet landed It ripped a path through my flesh Til i became so much less And the wound began to fester So i cut out the bullet and cleaned up the rest Now i have a scar to show the truth The bullet landed And i still choose Not to be bulletproof
0
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
Bulletproof
11/24/2017 Everybody says i dodged a bullet But the bullet landed As for the trigger, was it him or me that pulled it? I thought he helped my heart expand its hard to think i even could with Both feet braced on solid ground Our situationship wasnt planned I know its hard to understand From the outside its easy to brand me Can we analyze every time i noticed how masterfully he handled me? I understand that time is the only poultice But for a moment Id like to be candid please The bullet landed and it travelled It ripped a path through my flesh Day by day i ate less and less Let this be as many lessons As you can manage to pull from this The side pieces and the rest is all fluff and ******** He put strings on my heart and pulled it And i danced and said “how high” And my soul became dull it became harder and harder to wake up every day Is it ok to say the only redeeming quality is that he never struck me? But i wanted to escape the pain of being stuck he told me never, ever again to cut He didnt see that he was the reason i needed release The Mona Lisa was out of luck Finally the bullet festered The pain became so great And the benefits so much less The bullet ripped a path I cut it out and sealed it back Now the bullet is nothing but waste And i can find a new way to relate New tissue to create It takes talent to close, to suture they say “Approximate, dont strangulate” And now the bullet is disposed So they say i dodged a bullet But the bullet landed It ripped a path through my flesh Til i became so much less And the wound began to fester So i cut out the bullet and cleaned up the rest Now i have a scar to show the truth The bullet landed And i still choose Not to be bulletproof
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46
Not ready That's what you told me Yet you're already dating someone else Not even a month after I feel like I should be mourning But I think I dodged a bullet You still call other girls for hours Even though you have a girlfriend You still cuddle with others too So in hindsight thank you for leaving You gave me temporary pain For a lot more happiness longterm So thank you? I still hope you suffer a bit for the ghosting though After all I am a petty *****
0
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 2:21 AM UTC
Dodging bullets
All day yesterday was the best day of my life Nothing went wrong, everything went right Tracking all the factors that helped make it so Reinvigorates me to continue with my goals There’s a thought that returns, maybe coincidental, But there is a common thread that is sequential Early in the morning is when I first saw you And at the end of the day you were in my rear view So you were there with me from sunrise to sunset Any moment we had together I never felt upset No awkward instances, only natural feelings No pressure to make myself seem more appealing You make me feel like I’m almost where I need to be To have something that you may one day need from me Leisurely I will continue to approach the situation Because this is a path that I want to keep straightened At the prime of our lives for the time of our lives We just have to be willing to hold on for the ride Hopefully I’ll have you before the towel’s thrown in Together we will laugh at what could have been All the bullets that we dodged and the ones still lodged Deep into our hearts, but they’ll seem like a mirage Compared to the dreams that we’ve chosen to live After each other’s hearts that we’ve chosen to give It feels so strange to be so close to these emotions I’m hopeful for the future, for once my mind’s open To all of the possibilities that life could deal to me I’m so thrilled to see what will be revealed to me Whatever happens to me, I need you to be there too Since I know with you there we could see it all through I can’t recall a single bad day in which you were involved Even in one of your foul moods I was still so enthralled That’s just the kind of person I will always choose to be Doing whatever it takes to always have you with me Especially when extreme patience is all that’s required I’ll work hard at this job, no way am I ever getting fired Committed until I’m beyond the age of being retired Whistling while I work until the day I might expire One day, to all these thought you won’t be oblivious One day I’ll pursue you with an attitude that’s vigorous Until that day comes I’ll patiently wait off to the side For an opportunity to make you my source of pride
0
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
The Dreamer
All day yesterday was the best day of my life Nothing went wrong, everything went right Tracking all the factors that helped make it so Reinvigorates me to continue with my goals There’s a thought that returns, maybe coincidental, But there is a common thread that is sequential Early in the morning is when I first saw you And at the end of the day you were in my rear view So you were there with me from sunrise to sunset Any moment we had together I never felt upset No awkward instances, only natural feelings No pressure to make myself seem more appealing You make me feel like I’m almost where I need to be To have something that you may one day need from me Leisurely I will continue to approach the situation Because this is a path that I want to keep straightened At the prime of our lives for the time of our lives We just have to be willing to hold on for the ride Hopefully I’ll have you before the towel’s thrown in Together we will laugh at what could have been All the bullets that we dodged and the ones still lodged Deep into our hearts, but they’ll seem like a mirage Compared to the dreams that we’ve chosen to live After each other’s hearts that we’ve chosen to give It feels so strange to be so close to these emotions I’m hopeful for the future, for once my mind’s open To all of the possibilities that life could deal to me I’m so thrilled to see what will be revealed to me Whatever happens to me, I need you to be there too Since I know with you there we could see it all through I can’t recall a single bad day in which you were involved Even in one of your foul moods I was still so enthralled That’s just the kind of person I will always choose to be Doing whatever it takes to always have you with me Especially when extreme patience is all that’s required I’ll work hard at this job, no way am I ever getting fired Committed until I’m beyond the age of being retired Whistling while I work until the day I might expire One day, to all these thought you won’t be oblivious One day I’ll pursue you with an attitude that’s vigorous Until that day comes I’ll patiently wait off to the side For an opportunity to make you my source of pride
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42
The markets up, the Markets down For weeks it just meanders. Alas, my stocks are always down Each time I take a gander. GM, Lehman, Citicorp My broker bought for me- And you can guess the net result- I’m broker now, not he. Those friends who don’t avoid me Say I’ve reversed Midas’ touch. I don’t turn things I touch to gold I turn gold into rust. I’d heard dart tossing Simians Can best the S & P So I went to the Zoo this March to consult a Chimpanzee. He perused the chart then flung a dart to pick a stock for me- And now I’m getting margin calls because I bought BP. He seemed the sage of Omaha before he ruined me. I should have tried Orangutans And paid their higher fee . They wanted five bananas My monkey worked for three. But now I’m bust because I used a discount Chimpanzee. I might have dodged a massive loss And profited besides Had I but heeded the baboons’ Sell signaling behinds
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Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC
Monkey Business ( March 2009)
Breathing heavily running back and fro. They throw me the ball, it's my call. So I dodged the opponent going for a score. Just a few yards and for the referee who loves drawing card, you'll find it hard. The bliss inside I can never hide. I forced a kick, I heard it was 'sick'. I'm no pro but when I play, I call it a day. -A 8/12/14
0
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
Goal!
Does she notice the four sugars, You sneak into your tea? What’s she like, this girl? The girl who isn’t me? She hasn’t even realised, The weird dent on your knee. Who even is this girl? The girl who isn’t me. It’s been more than a fortnight, Since you made me leave my key. Did you give it to the girl? The girl who isn’t me? She’s thinner, smart and cooler. No one can disagree. But can you learn to love, A girl who isn’t me? Your clothes are where you left them, in piles on the settee. That girl calls it a ‘sofa’. The girl who isn’t me. **** this, I’m getting wasted. One shot turns into three. I’m tempted to drunk text her. The girl who should be me. It’s not like I’ve been stalking Your profiles frantically. I just can’t believe you’re seeing A girl who isn’t me. Does she put up with your mood swings? When you’re loathing your degree? How can you stand to be with? A girl who isn’t me? Just answer this one question: What do you really see? In that wretched girl you’re dating? That girl who isn’t me? I must be going crazy. Who still writes poetry? I bet your girlfriend hates it. The girl who isn’t me. I’m keeping your new console, And your comfy blue hoodie. That’s what you get for kissing A girl who isn’t me. Maybe I’m just jealous? I think it’s clear to see. You clearly love your girl, Your girl who isn’t me. You told me all your secrets, Under that big oak tree. Can you trust this girl? This girl who isn’t me. You can’t, that’s why you grab her. Silence her every plea. You laugh and call her stupid. That’s what you did to me. I must have dodged a bullet. I know I’ve been set free. I hope she breaks your heart. The girl who isn’t me. I cannot be the girl, The girl I used to be. I guess that’s why you’re now with A girl who isn’t me. I see this as a blessing, It surely has to be. You’re now stuck with a girl, A girl who isn’t me. Your days, my friend, are numbered. You listening to me? ‘Cause I still know your secrets. And they’re not safe with me. The cuts, the bumps and bruises, I claimed I could not see. Does your girl have them too? The girl who isn’t me? I’ll do my best to save her. She’s too naïve to see, that you can’t control your temper, with a girl who isn’t me. I wear these scars like war paint, For all the world to see. They show how hard I fought, For that girl and for me. I did my best to save her. I tried to help her flee. But you damaged, hurt and ruined the girl who’s now like me. The creaking of your window. How cold your house must be? You’ll always have to live with, the girl who once was me. I hope this poem haunts you. I’ll never say sorry. That girl you called a weakling? That girl just isn’t me.
0
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
The Girl Who Isn't Me
Does she notice the four sugars, You sneak into your tea? What’s she like, this girl? The girl who isn’t me? She hasn’t even realised, The weird dent on your knee. Who even is this girl? The girl who isn’t me. It’s been more than a fortnight, Since you made me leave my key. Did you give it to the girl? The girl who isn’t me? She’s thinner, smart and cooler. No one can disagree. But can you learn to love, A girl who isn’t me? Your clothes are where you left them, in piles on the settee. That girl calls it a ‘sofa’. The girl who isn’t me. **** this, I’m getting wasted. One shot turns into three. I’m tempted to drunk text her. The girl who should be me. It’s not like I’ve been stalking Your profiles frantically. I just can’t believe you’re seeing A girl who isn’t me. Does she put up with your mood swings? When you’re loathing your degree? How can you stand to be with? A girl who isn’t me? Just answer this one question: What do you really see? In that wretched girl you’re dating? That girl who isn’t me? I must be going crazy. Who still writes poetry? I bet your girlfriend hates it. The girl who isn’t me. I’m keeping your new console, And your comfy blue hoodie. That’s what you get for kissing A girl who isn’t me. Maybe I’m just jealous? I think it’s clear to see. You clearly love your girl, Your girl who isn’t me. You told me all your secrets, Under that big oak tree. Can you trust this girl? This girl who isn’t me. You can’t, that’s why you grab her. Silence her every plea. You laugh and call her stupid. That’s what you did to me. I must have dodged a bullet. I know I’ve been set free. I hope she breaks your heart. The girl who isn’t me. I cannot be the girl, The girl I used to be. I guess that’s why you’re now with A girl who isn’t me. I see this as a blessing, It surely has to be. You’re now stuck with a girl, A girl who isn’t me. Your days, my friend, are numbered. You listening to me? ‘Cause I still know your secrets. And they’re not safe with me. The cuts, the bumps and bruises, I claimed I could not see. Does your girl have them too? The girl who isn’t me? I’ll do my best to save her. She’s too naïve to see, that you can’t control your temper, with a girl who isn’t me. I wear these scars like war paint, For all the world to see. They show how hard I fought, For that girl and for me. I did my best to save her. I tried to help her flee. But you damaged, hurt and ruined the girl who’s now like me. The creaking of your window. How cold your house must be? You’ll always have to live with, the girl who once was me. I hope this poem haunts you. I’ll never say sorry. That girl you called a weakling? That girl just isn’t me.
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96
I dodged a desert eagle bullet and disappeared As the swan's trumpet rusted During the Pentecost As the ordained minister pressed play Chiang Kai-sheck pressed on against communists My horse got spooked by some type of anomaly Making me late for my two o'clock train So now I have saddle bags of useless words My cigarette's one giant granny ash And my bowl is cashed
0
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Jargon
Everyone keeps saying that I dodged the bullet And they wonder why I never wanted to say Actually, I was held at gunpoint And the trigger was pulled anyway
0
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
"You Dodged a Bullet with that One"
I am like the bicycle you let sit in the rain, turned sideways, wheels still spinning in reverse-- an abrupt split second call once my small SUV showed its dull red color and token dents, signs of an irresponsible me (and a still judgmental you). Once upon a time you prized me, snatched me from the wall of Grandest Biggest Rewards for those who throw their money and efforts into impossible pursuits. My hair gleamed. My skin glistened. My eyes glinted. but my legs would not spread. they could not for fear of Eyes of a Watchful God. when the day came, the day that no one believed you would come, not even me, you closed your eyes; I squeezed mine shut, as did my doors, never to let you in. Not even when you begged, bargained, bribed. When you flung insults like the beagle's feces, fresh, frenzied, frantic, I dodged each smear physically, but let the memories haunt my fading floral youth. Now, that the doors have opened to admit those who may be trusted, and have closed deep within a secret, discarded like a rush of blood-- just as meaningless, just as insignificant, Now, you've found another bike to prop against the cool sheltered garage wall, newly painted-- both the garage and the bike, and her arms emerge months from now with baby and baby and baby. Brimming with baby. And I sold that bicycle months ago, the one I fought so hard to retain. I was never the material, nor the istic. Just used goods gone sour.
0
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
a bicycle built for you
Someone’s world jumped onto a cold set of tracks at Jamaica station early last week. Someone’s world jumped into the universe next door, leaving us all for being too human. At the time, I was trapped at Penn Station. A pain spread about my stomach like a pen pressed against a sheet of looseleaf. MTA officials made announcements, calling it a mechanical malfunction. 9 to 5 businessmen in deep black suits with bluetooth headsets groaned and bargained for passage home, ready to ride through a stranger's graveyard. Little kids ran through shops, fingers sticky with frozen yogurt and popcorn- surprise treats used as pacifiers. I sat in a well known coffee shop pondering life and death. The word suicide didn’t hurt like it used to, but I felt connected to this stranger. I thought about that person’s lover, that person’s sister, that person’s mother, that person’s friend. I thought about how all of their galaxies stirred and switched gears. A planet of theirs- tremendous or trifling in their own imagination- collapsed and changed the course of everything. I wondered if their galaxy halted and each star and planet mourned or if their galaxy smoothed over the craters and dodged all the meteors and didn’t even blink. My galaxy shifted and clouds laid thick. Stars dimmed their lights in harmony. A few years ago or even a few months ago, I would’ve cried and thought about following this stranger to train station heaven. But now, I thought about my sister’s galaxy, my mother’s galaxy, my best friend’s galaxy. Now, I felt sadness but I also felt love.
0
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
one-way ticket home, please
Someone’s world jumped onto a cold set of tracks at Jamaica station early last week. Someone’s world jumped into the universe next door, leaving us all for being too human. At the time, I was trapped at Penn Station. A pain spread about my stomach like a pen pressed against a sheet of looseleaf. MTA officials made announcements, calling it a mechanical malfunction. 9 to 5 businessmen in deep black suits with bluetooth headsets groaned and bargained for passage home, ready to ride through a stranger's graveyard. Little kids ran through shops, fingers sticky with frozen yogurt and popcorn- surprise treats used as pacifiers. I sat in a well known coffee shop pondering life and death. The word suicide didn’t hurt like it used to, but I felt connected to this stranger. I thought about that person’s lover, that person’s sister, that person’s mother, that person’s friend. I thought about how all of their galaxies stirred and switched gears. A planet of theirs- tremendous or trifling in their own imagination- collapsed and changed the course of everything. I wondered if their galaxy halted and each star and planet mourned or if their galaxy smoothed over the craters and dodged all the meteors and didn’t even blink. My galaxy shifted and clouds laid thick. Stars dimmed their lights in harmony. A few years ago or even a few months ago, I would’ve cried and thought about following this stranger to train station heaven. But now, I thought about my sister’s galaxy, my mother’s galaxy, my best friend’s galaxy. Now, I felt sadness but I also felt love.
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62
I didn't mean to bother you. I know you're busy. And as it turns out, I'm bad at apologies. So here's a poem: Rose are red, Violets are blue, I'm also bad at rhyming, So here's a Haiku: Haiku's aren't easy. So I'm having some trouble. How about a song: This is a song without music So it's not very good But you should know That I'm sorry Hey, Hey, I'm sorry for bothering you Hey, Hey, Maybe I should try a Limerick instead: There once was a guy named Dan He had just eaten some ham He tried to write stories To say he was sorry But everything he wrote was bland Alright, so maybe the Limerick thing didn't work out either . . . Hmmmmmmm . . . Oh!  Oh!  How about an epic story!?                                                                                                     (But you just said you were bad at those) It was a dark and stormy night.                                                                                                                                    (Come on, that's lame) SHUT UP, BRAIN.  I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS APOLOGY CUTE. . . . Ahem . . . So there we were, alone out on the battlefield.  A single hawk circled above. "I don't know how much more of this heat I can take," you told me. We continued walking when suddenly, a giant tiger with teeth as sharp as a knives jumped out in front of us! "Why is there a tiger in this desert!" you screamed in horror. "Don't question the plotline!" I yelled raising my sword. The tiger leaped at me with all its might. "I'll protect you, my dear!" I dodged left; sword still at the ready.  The tiger turned around slowly, his dark eyes burning into my soul.  What could I possibly do to defeat this huge beast?  The tiger jumped again, but this time I was ready.  I ran at him and slid onto my knees.  As the tiger lept over me I thrusted my sword upwards into its stomach, killing it instantly. We had survived the attack, went to find shelter, and lived happily ever after.  The End Long story short:  I'm bad at saying sorry, I don't know what that story had to do with saying sorry, and I hope this made you laugh a little.  It certainly made me feel better writing it. This Thanksgiving, I'm happy you're back in my life.  :) Peace.
0
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
I'm Sorry
I didn't mean to bother you. I know you're busy. And as it turns out, I'm bad at apologies. So here's a poem: Rose are red, Violets are blue, I'm also bad at rhyming, So here's a Haiku: Haiku's aren't easy. So I'm having some trouble. How about a song: This is a song without music So it's not very good But you should know That I'm sorry Hey, Hey, I'm sorry for bothering you Hey, Hey, Maybe I should try a Limerick instead: There once was a guy named Dan He had just eaten some ham He tried to write stories To say he was sorry But everything he wrote was bland Alright, so maybe the Limerick thing didn't work out either . . . Hmmmmmmm . . . Oh!  Oh!  How about an epic story!?                                                                                                     (But you just said you were bad at those) It was a dark and stormy night.                                                                                                                                    (Come on, that's lame) SHUT UP, BRAIN.  I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS APOLOGY CUTE. . . . Ahem . . . So there we were, alone out on the battlefield.  A single hawk circled above. "I don't know how much more of this heat I can take," you told me. We continued walking when suddenly, a giant tiger with teeth as sharp as a knives jumped out in front of us! "Why is there a tiger in this desert!" you screamed in horror. "Don't question the plotline!" I yelled raising my sword. The tiger leaped at me with all its might. "I'll protect you, my dear!" I dodged left; sword still at the ready.  The tiger turned around slowly, his dark eyes burning into my soul.  What could I possibly do to defeat this huge beast?  The tiger jumped again, but this time I was ready.  I ran at him and slid onto my knees.  As the tiger lept over me I thrusted my sword upwards into its stomach, killing it instantly. We had survived the attack, went to find shelter, and lived happily ever after.  The End Long story short:  I'm bad at saying sorry, I don't know what that story had to do with saying sorry, and I hope this made you laugh a little.  It certainly made me feel better writing it. This Thanksgiving, I'm happy you're back in my life.  :) Peace.
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57
I bid thee welcome to the masquerade! T’is a place in which we dance circles around each other, Dawning a facade. We dodge, turn, and promenade All to elude one another All to trick the other into fraud. And yet, we still dance. Fanciful gowns, embroidered in gold! Shined shoes and a powered nose, Hidden by thy mask. Thy game is defunct and old T’is all concealed by magnificent clothes! Do not scrape the skin, but in its glow thy must bask. Be thy wary not to trip on thy skirts. Secret rendezvous down a dark rue! A place where a white lie springs Onto thy heart’s soft flesh - slashed. "I love you!" A heart beat faster than the hummingbird's wings. "Nah, good woman, t’was a feeling long surpassed." A heart with no beat, imploded and crumbling. I bid thee adieu from the masquerade! T'was a place where we danced circles around each other, And shall closet our facade. We have dodged, turned, and walked our promenade All to elude one another All to trick the other into fraud. And yet, thy mask never truly retires.
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
Masquerade
When addiction runs deep, Like the blood in our veins, Its impossible to kick, Unlikely to abstain. For we are what we love,   And we love what we are; It’s said that an apple,  From its tree won't roll far. Her parents were junkies, Generations gone by, So deep in her blood, It’d be cruel to deny. I’ve found in resistance, I beat my head on a brick, So no longer at odds, I embrace life as her fix. “Honey, can you fix this?” She says, smiling at the sale. At the lamp I look closely, It stands tired and frail; It's brass tarnished dark,  Its wire is frayed. In my head I say, “No," then, “Sure babe,” someone else said. Believing I’ve dodged one,  I breathe a sigh of relief; We return to our Jeep, and Drive away down the street. Then I glance in the mirror, And what do I see, It’s that LAMP in my back seat, Staring smugly at me. *“This dresser will be cool, In robin's-egg-blue;”* Just describing the hue, I see her almost drool. *“Yeah, natural on top, It's frame painted, then glazed... You’re the best at glueing drawers!”* She adds icing with praise. *“Look, here’s a chair I found, with pretty calico; If you fix it's broken arm, You’ll be my hero! Cuz I am sure it will fetch,  Ten times what I've paid.”* I’m a wage earner no longer, She pays me in accolades. That bowl with mustard yellow, Picture frames of wood & plaster; An old tin box, and this small broach, A barrel chest with leather straps. A jewelry box,  (A lover’s locket found inside) Each purchase she makes, Adds satisfaction, and pride. Her addiction runs deep, She’s my bargain-maker; Not a corporate girl,  But she’s a mover and shaker. Yes, she's my ****** And I am her fix; Together we’re a duo, "Can we peak in your attic?" In my chair as I write this, I feel something, turn and see; And there pinned to the cushion,  Is a price tag poking me. Now I’m nervous as a cat, Wouldn’t want to fall asleep; For fear I could wake up,  In the back of someone else's Jeep!
0
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
The ****** and Her Fix
When addiction runs deep, Like the blood in our veins, Its impossible to kick, Unlikely to abstain. For we are what we love,   And we love what we are; It’s said that an apple,  From its tree won't roll far. Her parents were junkies, Generations gone by, So deep in her blood, It’d be cruel to deny. I’ve found in resistance, I beat my head on a brick, So no longer at odds, I embrace life as her fix. “Honey, can you fix this?” She says, smiling at the sale. At the lamp I look closely, It stands tired and frail; It's brass tarnished dark,  Its wire is frayed. In my head I say, “No," then, “Sure babe,” someone else said. Believing I’ve dodged one,  I breathe a sigh of relief; We return to our Jeep, and Drive away down the street. Then I glance in the mirror, And what do I see, It’s that LAMP in my back seat, Staring smugly at me. *“This dresser will be cool, In robin's-egg-blue;”* Just describing the hue, I see her almost drool. *“Yeah, natural on top, It's frame painted, then glazed... You’re the best at glueing drawers!”* She adds icing with praise. *“Look, here’s a chair I found, with pretty calico; If you fix it's broken arm, You’ll be my hero! Cuz I am sure it will fetch,  Ten times what I've paid.”* I’m a wage earner no longer, She pays me in accolades. That bowl with mustard yellow, Picture frames of wood & plaster; An old tin box, and this small broach, A barrel chest with leather straps. A jewelry box,  (A lover’s locket found inside) Each purchase she makes, Adds satisfaction, and pride. Her addiction runs deep, She’s my bargain-maker; Not a corporate girl,  But she’s a mover and shaker. Yes, she's my ****** And I am her fix; Together we’re a duo, "Can we peak in your attic?" In my chair as I write this, I feel something, turn and see; And there pinned to the cushion,  Is a price tag poking me. Now I’m nervous as a cat, Wouldn’t want to fall asleep; For fear I could wake up,  In the back of someone else's Jeep!
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72
Nigel the soldier Shoulders big as boulders Up over the top Tried not to stop Tripped on some wire Dodged all gun fire Jumped back up again Then it started to rain Got to the other side In one giant stride Took some enemy out They began to shout Nowhere else to go In a place he didn't know Nigel the brave Resting forever in an unmarked grave
0
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Unmarked grave
I love you. My heart screamed for you alone from the moment we first drew breath. How can you not see what I would do for you? You're so beautiful. I only wish to show you that. Seeing you in the morning sets my soul afire. The other girls i've been with, they are nothing. Nothing, to what I see in you. I long to hold you in my arms, keep you close. Never let you go. You don't seem to understand, the clothes I've bought for you, yes they may be a little..uh..skimpy but trust me! You'll look great in them! Declined offer after declined offer, you reject my advances. Do I smell? No, I'm sure you're just being too polite and would rather not waste my time. I know I'm a great guy, but you're a great gal. We're two of a kind, you and I. It's so amazing that I met the love of my life right here at work. Look. I know I've been a little pushy, following you home, but It's only to make sure you make it home alright. Maybe I did find your number in the phone book and send you one..maybe 100 texts and calls, but it's only because I love you. Why don't you see that? I've done so much for you, and yet you throw it all away. Is there something wrong with you? Stop being such a ******* ***** and give in! Oh, I see how it is. I bet you're having *** with any guy you can, making sure to pass around all the STDs i'm sure you have. I may be a ****** but it's because I'm saving it for the right person. Unlike you. You're so disgusting. A nice guy like me is so much better off without an ugly **** like you. Wow, really dodged a bullet there, amiright?
0
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
Corporate "Love"
I love you. My heart screamed for you alone from the moment we first drew breath. How can you not see what I would do for you? You're so beautiful. I only wish to show you that. Seeing you in the morning sets my soul afire. The other girls i've been with, they are nothing. Nothing, to what I see in you. I long to hold you in my arms, keep you close. Never let you go. You don't seem to understand, the clothes I've bought for you, yes they may be a little..uh..skimpy but trust me! You'll look great in them! Declined offer after declined offer, you reject my advances. Do I smell? No, I'm sure you're just being too polite and would rather not waste my time. I know I'm a great guy, but you're a great gal. We're two of a kind, you and I. It's so amazing that I met the love of my life right here at work. Look. I know I've been a little pushy, following you home, but It's only to make sure you make it home alright. Maybe I did find your number in the phone book and send you one..maybe 100 texts and calls, but it's only because I love you. Why don't you see that? I've done so much for you, and yet you throw it all away. Is there something wrong with you? Stop being such a ******* ***** and give in! Oh, I see how it is. I bet you're having *** with any guy you can, making sure to pass around all the STDs i'm sure you have. I may be a ****** but it's because I'm saving it for the right person. Unlike you. You're so disgusting. A nice guy like me is so much better off without an ugly **** like you. Wow, really dodged a bullet there, amiright?
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33
Growing up, a girl watches, learns, The truths of boys and men— so often unturned. “Boys will be boys,” a phrase we know, implying girls must shoulder the load. Girls mature fast, women pick up the cast— an unspoken burden, a silent decree: Bear the weight of their irresponsibility. In a world gripped by misogyny, women face judgment, their futures unclasped. Absorbing shame for games they play, men walk away, free to go their way. Homes abandoned, men now free, their true selves unknown. Disgrace drapes women—a heavy yoke, neglect shatters hope. Promises unkept, fathers vanish as children wept. Guilt escaped with practiced ease, duty dodged, a ghost on the breeze. Children and wife he never knew, society laughs at the pain he withdrew. Children carry his woes— identities shaped by the hurt he chose. Shame shouldered early, remembering blame. Love claimed, but never there. Strain felt in his name, unfairness echoes. Abandoned women and children grow— a daunting endeavor men overthrow. Shadows linger, burdens remain; a future carved where hope will maintain. Every struggle faced—a dawn, strength carries on.
0
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 11:24 PM UTC
Left To Carry His Name
I think of the first guy who let me down Just as his Ex came back to town And though I can have a laugh and joke with him now I will never see him in the same light ever since that night Out of cowardice he thought it was alright After knowing me for a good part of my life To do me like he did I guess I dodged a bullet... But not for long Tell em how you really feel And they run But when you can't be direct You lose my Respect And I don't think That anyone has ever Won it back And when you can't be straight up You forfeit my Trust And I know for a fact That nobody has ever Gained that back Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever will And I don't know if this is due to my lack of understanding, or any hurt that I feel But I doubt it cause I was born to relate Tread the emPATHy But I find it winding and tiring of late But what is the other option? Hate? No, I just wasn't made for that So I seek to understand the reasoning And see if this should lead to an acceptance of  the action Whether it's a justification For the jagged fragments I stand upon of all that can be shattered in a fraction cause we all make Mistakes right? My prison is a prism of insight I constantly have to negotiate One I wish I could crack But I guess if I'm Bound to the Rebound I'll always bounce back
0
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
Rebound For The Reload
I killed then what I now love, offended then what I now defend. Practiced what I preached but now I’m preaching something different. I could care less about it then, honestly, but today I feel more alive than ever. I dodged a bullet or two, don’t get me wrong. But the good die young because they never belong in a world of flesh, where it’s “dog eat dog”. And cannibalism is hidden under a thick, sick fog. Some said “maybe you should end it all”, but perseverance stood me up tall. And even if I have to crawl, I swear to God I’ll get there, to the top of the mountain. ‘Cause I robbed Peter to pay Paul, but don’t you know, I used to be Saul.
0
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 8:51 AM UTC
Missionary
Came out of the heat and into a strange simmering *** my mother accepted the responsibility of a baby for about half an hour or so. It cried. It cried so **** much. She tried to hand it off to me, and I dodged that mother-sucker like the plague. Of the top three things I "don't", babies are two. God **** it cried so much. That's all I have to say.
0
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
"A Baby Crying is Like Being ****** By Razors Driven by a Revenge of Fantastical Proportions."
i’ve been photoshopping old memories in attempts to bring back color to over-faded, twice-forgotten black-and-whites tried dodge and burn but that’s too close to what happened you dodged so i burned like a stack of photographs and albums in a house fire started by christmas lights maybe if i crop myself out you’ll turn bright again until your whole face washes out and i can feel like you’re a stranger again replace all your blues with harsh reds and sharpen all of my blurred edges for a while things felt like polaroids, instant results but then i realized that i was just wasting film by taking one photo per roll at a time i was ruining prints of thirty five other potential moments we were never digital but we were only ever digitalized, conversations only spent on snapchat and half-second smiles in hallways i’ll layer all of our photographs because we sure as hell never had layers then your smile is the same in every single one of them, but my expression is always off and my eyes are never quite the same level of jaded somewhere along the line i’ve realized that no photographic evidence was ever taken of our life i’m just looking at bad sketches with too many filters i don’t even remember the sound of your voice i’m writing poetry about strangers again, people who have never existed outside of my head maybe that’s just a bad coping mechanism, pretending that you’re just pretend but i’ve been struggling with hallucinations lately because photographs and light and sound is so **** easy to bend into whatever shapes you want memories to take i haven’t trusted myself for three years now and i’m not about to start overconfidence leads to the edges of cliffs and i’m all too familiar with the steep drop of the ravine when did photographs of you become a foreign language to me? when did i stop recognizing either of us? why can’t i look myself in the eye anymore? photoshop steals the life from my laptop battery and reminiscing on things that may or may not have actually happened steals energy from me so i’ll try to see if we can forcefully power down this crooked old machine unplug me i don’t want these memories saved anymore delete everything delete everything unplug me delete me delete me
0
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
photoshop
i’ve been photoshopping old memories in attempts to bring back color to over-faded, twice-forgotten black-and-whites tried dodge and burn but that’s too close to what happened you dodged so i burned like a stack of photographs and albums in a house fire started by christmas lights maybe if i crop myself out you’ll turn bright again until your whole face washes out and i can feel like you’re a stranger again replace all your blues with harsh reds and sharpen all of my blurred edges for a while things felt like polaroids, instant results but then i realized that i was just wasting film by taking one photo per roll at a time i was ruining prints of thirty five other potential moments we were never digital but we were only ever digitalized, conversations only spent on snapchat and half-second smiles in hallways i’ll layer all of our photographs because we sure as hell never had layers then your smile is the same in every single one of them, but my expression is always off and my eyes are never quite the same level of jaded somewhere along the line i’ve realized that no photographic evidence was ever taken of our life i’m just looking at bad sketches with too many filters i don’t even remember the sound of your voice i’m writing poetry about strangers again, people who have never existed outside of my head maybe that’s just a bad coping mechanism, pretending that you’re just pretend but i’ve been struggling with hallucinations lately because photographs and light and sound is so **** easy to bend into whatever shapes you want memories to take i haven’t trusted myself for three years now and i’m not about to start overconfidence leads to the edges of cliffs and i’m all too familiar with the steep drop of the ravine when did photographs of you become a foreign language to me? when did i stop recognizing either of us? why can’t i look myself in the eye anymore? photoshop steals the life from my laptop battery and reminiscing on things that may or may not have actually happened steals energy from me so i’ll try to see if we can forcefully power down this crooked old machine unplug me i don’t want these memories saved anymore delete everything delete everything unplug me delete me delete me
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39
I Dodged a bullet but got hit by a train.
0
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
random thought.
Hey (It was sunny; You and I dodged the rays all day) How are you? (You smiled at me; I felt like I had a place with you) It's rainy, today. (You said it was poetic; We spent the day with hot espresso and black umbrellas) It's weird, not seeing you. (Every day you hugged me; I didn't like hugs, before I knew you) I miss you. (You are gone now; We promised to stay together always) I love you. (You told me first; It came like lightning in the summer and took my breath away) I can't live without you. (I don't often tell the truth; If I am honest once, let it be this)
0
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
Across Oceans (IMs I Never Sent)