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"dominique" poems
Names are funny. Have you ever wondered what your name would be if your parents didn't name you? I'm one of the lucky few that know. If my parents didn't name me, my name would be Timothy. You see, apparently, when two people love each other, Mommy cheats on Donny with daddy and all three demonize the baby. Unfortunately, abortion isn't an option. Poor Donny believes his little Johnson made a tiny Willie but really it's Mike's Rick. The trick wasn't revealed until Donny signed the birth certificate. Obviously, Karen's husband abandoned their family. Mike ripped his love from her and gave it to Dominique. Karen, twice-scorned, mid-divorce, postpartum, decides a shelter isn't suitable for a nameless infant. At this point, it's a little too late for abortion. Nowhere to go, knowing she can't stay, Adoption became the practical option. The noxious auction caused a nauseous reaction to her conscious. Karen picked the option, least pompus, with the most promise. An intuitively honest Christian was brought to her room so she could sign the synopsis. As she's reviewing the terms of this blood oath, she glances at both of the parents cradling her second baby boy. They turn and ask "What is his name?" "I don't know. I thought he was going to be a she so I had the name Sade." "That's ok, we have a perfect name in mind. Timothy."
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Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 5:26 PM UTC
Blood is Thicker
Jamming jellyfish Top-Me  ((Giddy App Seahorse)) The horseradish on my lap______ The jolly Jelly Gefilte Fish Little help from my friends How we click the laptop One dent to Deceive me The Rock and Rolling Stomach his smoke went Like *** Cheese) he leaves me The spicy tongue map Z-Top Zany Chilli Pepper____ your # tap dance tap Italian top of the cheese designer skirt The outskirts of Naples Her sweet dimples, please The Islands of Sicily So many Cheese forms Terms of Endearment Mama Mia Murano-Positano Her lips of Romano Cheese (To Top Me) Challenge me Cheese doesn't mix with cappuccino, she's the Capri Ala Denti Cheese Wiz chair Mediterranean Wines Bear men doing low sips of time the grisly(Z) pour The car smelled like Flight (Top Me) Swiss air Meet Dominique How it went La Cirque Anti Christ Devil Red-bed cheese mystique SOS to their notes PS the junk car in Midas the makeover Make-up artist counter Clinique I could paint over your hood Creamy mind put at ease He's so displeased New castle disease Mingling social disease She's so infectious ZZ- Top me rock me Eyes bloodshot you got me And nevertheless With twelve and V V- Vamps tramps and 14 karats The French Lieutenant Mistress Brie with heavy bite teeth like garnets Cher turning back time The burlesque striptease Come back little Sheba Z Top Queen of Sheba I know it's coming soon____? All Tight claustrophobic The tight squeeze Him speaking Mandarin Oranges The British Colony Unique Chinese languages Her hills, San Francisco Jack Nicholson Comedy of China town The American Women Smile cheese at the Disco The food Cantonese style Z muscles Hercules Joan Rivers Fashion Police The Cheese of Portuguese Its the meat market With his nifty thrifty Neice All Socrates (Gromet and Cheese) Those Brooklyn workers The Falcon Matese____* More cheese Z-Top Who could ever top The string cheese Silken strings became to rest, I rest my cheese What cheese fascinates you Tell me?
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Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Z- Top Me! Cheese
Jamming jellyfish Top-Me  ((Giddy App Seahorse)) The horseradish on my lap______ The jolly Jelly Gefilte Fish Little help from my friends How we click the laptop One dent to Deceive me The Rock and Rolling Stomach his smoke went Like *** Cheese) he leaves me The spicy tongue map Z-Top Zany Chilli Pepper____ your # tap dance tap Italian top of the cheese designer skirt The outskirts of Naples Her sweet dimples, please The Islands of Sicily So many Cheese forms Terms of Endearment Mama Mia Murano-Positano Her lips of Romano Cheese (To Top Me) Challenge me Cheese doesn't mix with cappuccino, she's the Capri Ala Denti Cheese Wiz chair Mediterranean Wines Bear men doing low sips of time the grisly(Z) pour The car smelled like Flight (Top Me) Swiss air Meet Dominique How it went La Cirque Anti Christ Devil Red-bed cheese mystique SOS to their notes PS the junk car in Midas the makeover Make-up artist counter Clinique I could paint over your hood Creamy mind put at ease He's so displeased New castle disease Mingling social disease She's so infectious ZZ- Top me rock me Eyes bloodshot you got me And nevertheless With twelve and V V- Vamps tramps and 14 karats The French Lieutenant Mistress Brie with heavy bite teeth like garnets Cher turning back time The burlesque striptease Come back little Sheba Z Top Queen of Sheba I know it's coming soon____? All Tight claustrophobic The tight squeeze Him speaking Mandarin Oranges The British Colony Unique Chinese languages Her hills, San Francisco Jack Nicholson Comedy of China town The American Women Smile cheese at the Disco The food Cantonese style Z muscles Hercules Joan Rivers Fashion Police The Cheese of Portuguese Its the meat market With his nifty thrifty Neice All Socrates (Gromet and Cheese) Those Brooklyn workers The Falcon Matese____* More cheese Z-Top Who could ever top The string cheese Silken strings became to rest, I rest my cheese What cheese fascinates you Tell me?
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98
walking thru the valley of words speechless are our soldiers in war times of creative breaks, shootings the sounds of slugs overpower rivals gangstapoets stand tall in gory hoods we dunno what fear is, bloodhoundz as we only need 8 minutes to gather 80 0 traitors, giving bread to hungry ones one tower, one pit, one block, 1LOVE feel me rushing over sparklin' glaciers south florida, 64th floor, ocean fiends snake charmer in crime, 20 to 55, flip kobacobraface scammed one of us unknown were the ties among tizz and gp in the background, jeezy and assi-toni... "still on it", "the realest", "kommenzi" the beats merge in gangstapoet's minds dominique northstar's silky skin on mine tissop, the war zones, fallen gangsta poets dead baby mommas, vamoosing bullets stop! tizzop is yelling, falling on his knees and branko, tizzop's red horse approaches juicy our promises, as sweet as fulfillments olives, red wine, m2 tec bluetooth babe red light district, wondaland's lost avenue in the corner of agony and mania, dey fail gangstapoets gradually winning turf to be continued...
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Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 2:14 AM UTC
Wordless Poem I
glimpse of repressed desires, in rain as i met dominique northstar on a platform life trains passing by in slow motion and we are smiling at each other end of existence's hectic, silver heaven leaves flying around her head, swooshing two hours later, her sounds, my ******** and we talk endlessly, films, food, songs the following weeks are waves in our souls we don't sleep with each other, but laugh in times of hunger are we gathering greed a massage here, a soft embrace there northstar starts to glow more often one day, she wears a darkyellow blouse telling me about it, throwing tender codes and i catch them, and we get closer sleeping with you is wordless, dominique last night i dreamt, you would write to me...
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Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 7:01 PM UTC
Wave Weeks (To Dominique Northstar)
"Between an uncontrolled escalation and passivity, there is a demanding road of responsibility that we must follow." -Dominique de Villepin If I had a nickel-plated anything, I'd eat it and tell everyone I'm a robot. If I had a head full of wires, I'd roll my eyes and say They're called cords. If I had a crate of screws and nails, this town would have a lot more to worry about. If I had the bones of a tiger, I would miss my stripes every time. Tripp'd on the tripwire.
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Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 4:33 AM UTC
Escalation
Mon Père, ce grand Chêne, Je le croyais indéracinable, en ses terres, Comme ce chêne Corse, sur la roche, poussé. Il nous semblait si grand, il paraissait si fort, Si longtemps résistant aux grands vents de la vie, Sous les châtaigneraies et parmi les bruyères, Il marchait, puis rêvait. Parfois, il m'amenait, dans son refuge, y faisait provision de «corned-beef» et de lait en boite "gloria", et aussi de «bastelles», et ces repas hâtifs me semblaient un festin. Mais plus que tout, je goûtais si belle liberté. Disparues les contraintes. D'un pas de montagnard, il nous menait, souvent, En ces lieux de granit, qui semblaient son domaine. Il me mit dans les mains, sa fine carabine, dont j'aimais le canon à l’acier effilé ; mais avant que je presse, le geai était parti. Il ne me gronda pas. Le soir, si peu dormeurs, avec Régis, mon frère, dans la chambre aux obus, des tués de quatorze, dont un panier d'osier exhalait tant les truites, Nous le savions dormir dans la chambre à côté, nous ne cherchions pas trop, sommeil prompt à venir. Je lisais de vieux livre. Et puis nous descendions, furtifs vers la rivière, encaissé dans les roches le «Fiume grosso» grondait. Mon père nous racontait qu'il y avait dormi avec quelques amis, à la flambée des feux. Et le bruit lancinant était une musique qui malgré le soleil nous tenait éveillé. Magie des eaux profondes. Quand un jour de détresse, je perdis «Nils le prince» ressentant mon chagrin, il me facilita L’achat d'un jeune chien, je l'ai encore au cœur, ce cadeau si exquis, qui fut baume sur plaie Merci de m'avoir fait, ce présent plein d'amour. La tendresse d'un père. Il vécut si longtemps, que je ne prêtais guère, attention au torrent qui se faisait ruisseau, aux blancs cheveux venus, au dos un peu voûté, tant les fils ont besoin de croire invincible Le père qui fut grand à l’aube de leurs vies. Besoin de protection. Un père est une force qui paraît infinie pour le jeune enfant qui en a tant besoin peut être imaginaire, qui soutient et le guide. Alors devenu homme, il découvre un soir que le chêne vacille, s'appuie sur une canne. Il est désormais seul. Paul d'Aubin – Toulouse, «Poésie élégiaque», En l'honneur de son père André Dominique, dit, Candria », décédé le 29 novembre 2010.»
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
Mon Père, ce grand Chêne,
Mon Père, ce grand Chêne, Je le croyais indéracinable, en ses terres, Comme ce chêne Corse, sur la roche, poussé. Il nous semblait si grand, il paraissait si fort, Si longtemps résistant aux grands vents de la vie, Sous les châtaigneraies et parmi les bruyères, Il marchait, puis rêvait. Parfois, il m'amenait, dans son refuge, y faisait provision de «corned-beef» et de lait en boite "gloria", et aussi de «bastelles», et ces repas hâtifs me semblaient un festin. Mais plus que tout, je goûtais si belle liberté. Disparues les contraintes. D'un pas de montagnard, il nous menait, souvent, En ces lieux de granit, qui semblaient son domaine. Il me mit dans les mains, sa fine carabine, dont j'aimais le canon à l’acier effilé ; mais avant que je presse, le geai était parti. Il ne me gronda pas. Le soir, si peu dormeurs, avec Régis, mon frère, dans la chambre aux obus, des tués de quatorze, dont un panier d'osier exhalait tant les truites, Nous le savions dormir dans la chambre à côté, nous ne cherchions pas trop, sommeil prompt à venir. Je lisais de vieux livre. Et puis nous descendions, furtifs vers la rivière, encaissé dans les roches le «Fiume grosso» grondait. Mon père nous racontait qu'il y avait dormi avec quelques amis, à la flambée des feux. Et le bruit lancinant était une musique qui malgré le soleil nous tenait éveillé. Magie des eaux profondes. Quand un jour de détresse, je perdis «Nils le prince» ressentant mon chagrin, il me facilita L’achat d'un jeune chien, je l'ai encore au cœur, ce cadeau si exquis, qui fut baume sur plaie Merci de m'avoir fait, ce présent plein d'amour. La tendresse d'un père. Il vécut si longtemps, que je ne prêtais guère, attention au torrent qui se faisait ruisseau, aux blancs cheveux venus, au dos un peu voûté, tant les fils ont besoin de croire invincible Le père qui fut grand à l’aube de leurs vies. Besoin de protection. Un père est une force qui paraît infinie pour le jeune enfant qui en a tant besoin peut être imaginaire, qui soutient et le guide. Alors devenu homme, il découvre un soir que le chêne vacille, s'appuie sur une canne. Il est désormais seul. Paul d'Aubin – Toulouse, «Poésie élégiaque», En l'honneur de son père André Dominique, dit, Candria », décédé le 29 novembre 2010.»
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54
His name, well it is Dominique, wants to be a woman, perhaps, as he slips into his plaid skirt, thought it rather itchy, he could be rather ****** Starts off in high heels, yes, Then he dons his rubbers, I said Dons, not Dom's, then feeds his fetish, pulls up his welly boots, into rubber you know! He traipses to the shop of *** there he buys a gimp suit, gives his girlfriend whips and chains, she locks him up in the cellar, he's a really funny fella, I'm sure he is okay, but, I guess I'll never know! (C) Livvi
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May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Dominique (LOL)
Dominique, The nicer version, He spoke to me with tongue of fork, What did Livvi do, bar laugh. He gave her a giggle, with the words the she wrote, So, in her most indignant style, she said she'd pen something far less vile. He has a heart of gold, but he's just a friend, he's much too old, he's a very good writer, with a mighty pen. He writes of true love and flowers, not as risque, as Livvi, this cute piskie, but he's okay to chat to every day, Dominique, he's my critique, He kinda makes me giggle, not much more as I'm a tad fickle! (C) Livvi
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
Dom Mark 2
My lord I'm black like the night at peace within my heart . My lord I cry for freedom o lord for so many because of the colour of are skin like me o lord. I pray for so many lord as someone out there prays for me too o ' lord. I cry as I see clearly my colour of my skin shows and shines through the lord. We are free in someway lord I ask you for love and fulfelment full freedom lord.
0
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Mr lee Dominique Roberts Asker
He's five years older than me. He stepped up and became a man when our father didn't want to be. When mom was too high and drunk to see and I was too young to make money realistically, he was in the street making sure we all could eat. It's a bad place to be at 14. A brother too young to chase his dreams. A mother so focused on pleasure, she doesn't understand the effects of her schemes. He just wants to escape the Stockton scene where gunshots ring out like wet towels. People shouting out sets like wolf howls. Where the sword is mightier than the pen and defending yourself just puts you in the pen. Somehow this boy became three men. One for me, a man to this day I mirror to be. One for my father, showing him how to be a daddy. One for himself because a real man lets nobody determine his wealth. I have the utmost respect for my brother. We're not friends on Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr. We know, without saying, what we mean to each other. Any day I could call him and ask for a favor. We can have a whole conversation without the need to speak. He's even the reason why I'm such a geek. Nobody can be more of a man than my brother, Dominique.
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Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
Brother (Tiffany H.)
People may say what they want about me, sad thing is they don't really know me In my life there has been pain, it'd be better if I was a girl named Jane Through life I've learned you are truly alone, no one to really hold, none will last forever My name is Dominique I know who I am and what I am capable of I was raised well and all by my nana's loving self January 15 at 6:45 this young soul lost the love of her life by God's grace I survive and I strive Do not ask me why because I do not know why This young soul will remain through the toughness and pain This young soul was created to be strong I suppose I am a sad soul I am a lost soul I am a young soul
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Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
The young soul
I shall build my bathroom vanity to suit my person needs         In a marble glossy white strip featuring tea leaves Where the sunset would lift my morning moods As I quietly sit on the toilet with the latest Bluetooth    I shall lie on my high pillow top bed         And listen to the sound of the larks While the wild baby monkey sits on the ledge         Where tiny soldiers of marching ant crawl in the dark I shall refreshed my house with Natural Aromatherapy Incense         Just to keep evil away, and in addition keeping the blessing in While broods of Dominique hen cackling makes a loud annoying song        In the year two thousand forty-two, I will represent As for now, I am planning and waiting for my long awaited retirement Feeling so worn out:
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Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
Feeling Old By The Day
Hold my hand in yours I'll feel blue, Touch me softly I'll become stone, Kiss me on the cheek I'll cower away, Call me sweetheart I'll paralize.
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
Dominique
“Dominique, you can forgive yourself now. I promise you are much more than who didn’t stay. Please listen, Dominique, because this is very important: the hurt is the beginning of all your poetry. Dominique, you are full of words that have not formed yet. And when they finally do, they are going to be so beautiful. I know it. I know there is such a thing as God, and I know God would drop the world just to hear you laugh. I know He’d turn the tides just to watch the waves give you back to yourself and I know you know I know there’s an ocean sitting inside the both of us. Dominique, we both know you cannot truly be lost if you enjoy the scenery. So take a breath and look around because Dominique, there’s poetry in the sky. It’s in the buildings. The people. The river. Just know that even on your worst day, when your eyes play tricks with your heart, there is a verse inside you so great that not even you are you enough to read it. It’s called Dominique. It’s called who the hell cares as long as it sounds right. And it does. It sounds the way you imagine knocking on your mother’s door. Gently, carefully, saying, “Mom, I know I’m late. But I’m here.” And here you are. All one hundred and seventy-one thousand, four hundred and seventy-six words in the english language of you, as well as a few others. Dominique, you are so here that you are always home. And Dominique, it is time to forgive yourself.”
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May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
you can forgive yourself now (advice to last year's me)
So I'm broke now, And I have no friends. Because friends are stupid and block you on social media. For reasons that will remain unknown. Oh well. At least I'm not pregnant and homeless. But I am failing every class. Javin and dominique until the end. And Becca for now. Most likely. And food is stupid And life is stupid. I will probably end up working at a grocery store For the rest of my life. And end up on the streets. I am not being melodramatic.
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
December 14, 2014
It is with sadness that I report today. My fellow poet has flown away. Collected by angels carrying guitars. Transported him beyond the stars. I have to bade goodbye today. To Dominique Laine, who has flown away. I shall miss silly phone and daft bits of chat. Dom, sweet Dom, eternal sleep brings an end to all that. May you rest in peace forevermore. Goodbye my friend. So glad I got to meet you even tho was only once. (c)LIVVI
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Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
IT IS WITH SORROW
It’s 1:33 as the teacher calls on me.. Dominique, are you in there? I respond with “I’m thinking of my future but not the one you’d hope for me the one I aspire to see, writing things with passion maybe even screaming why I chose to be this way. Why I don’t show up to school until the fourth period bell rings because every Friday we read our feelings out loud that we throw on a piece of paper, I wait at the stairs when the fifth bell calls his name, run up the stairs to see him smile, Everyday. I don’t really know why I’m here and why I’m afraid to speak up this way.” Dominique, are you in there? I respond with a thoughtless look of just go away, you’re too dense to hear what I have to say.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
School ?
Sometimes I am Jean-Dominique Bauby A slack face, without a hint of The turbulent thoughts that lie Beneath the skin
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Diving Bell
I shall build my bathroom vanity to suit my person needs         In a marble glossy white strip featuring tea leaves Where the sunset would lift my morning moods As I quietly sit on the toilet with the latest Bluetooth    I shall lie on my high pillow top bed         And listen to the sound of the larks While the wild baby monkey sits on the ledge         Where tiny soldiers of marching ant crawl in the dark I shall refreshed my house with Natural Aromatherapy Incense         Just to keep evil away, and in addition keeping the blessing in While broods of Dominique hen cackling makes a loud annoying song        In the year two thousand forty-two, I will represent As for now, I am planning and waiting for my long awaited retirement Feeling so worn out:
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Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC
Feeling Old By The Day