"ender" poems
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
jumped off the bridge, hung out with bros, floated a log down the river chilled in the back of a van, skated, bombed a hill with a guy playing the acoustic guitar...coconut icecream and a ******* would be a great ender but either way im happy
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
Jeg svarer dig ikke længere på snapchat
(uanset hvor meget det frister)
For jeg vil godt have noget med dig
(men jeg er bare pisse bange for at det ender som sidst)
Det knuste mig fuldstændigt
(og jeg ville ikke kunne klare endnu en omgang)
Så i stedet ligger jeg her
(og tænker på alt det der måske kunne ske)
Hvis jeg svarede dig på snapchat
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
1
Grey sky greyer sea
a litter of rocks balance
coat bright hat blue mittens striped
as on these November steps
you collect the gifts of the ebb tide
2
Glint green this living tapestry echoes
Jilly’s field with tractor not Devon
but salt-flats rocky revetments moorland rising
a map crossed by a chiromatic line
our destiny marked out on this concrete wall?
3
Beached clinkered double-ender
a bay-courser sjekte strand-crunched
fit once for Viking raiders two abreast
now daubed with tin ends of patriotic paint
a sea-steed hobbled hard on the shore
4
Bow faced a sea helmet thrice rope strapped
slow moulded over the boat builder’s ribbanded jig
a spanglehelm of wood
curved sheer straked plank bilged a tuck stern
raising its proud head seaward
5
Viewed from the air a map rolls out
north to the tilted curve of the horizon’s rim
cloud scattered mountained red
betwixt seas sun chalked wine-stained a volcanic isthmus
provokes desert the western waste land of a brooding city
6
Oh face of ropes knot eyed!
you blue cheeked wide smiler
wild wild your head of hair
beachcombed and splayed
wrapped on the sternest post
7
She sewed sugar kelp on the sea shore
a sporophyte with sheltered frond
strap-like stem stiff and smooth
of the species saccharina a spring-tide
stalk set among substrates shells and stones
8
I the camera turned and caressed
by her slight fingers (the pinky raised)
my viewfinder close to her blue grey eye / I
focus on this kelp-needled novelty feel her breath
wait for the thumb press the electronic click
9
Here is the beach walked in darkness
the fishermen shadows against the moonstruck ebb
fingers laced the sea’s breath in our ears
wave upon wave un-folding on the sand and later
we unfold then draw back in love’s relentlessness
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 4:09 AM UTC
Where I live, you see, is the future
which nobody saw coming but me,
and I guarantee, its truth,
I consider ants sentient, indeed.
I cringe for my imaginary Jain friends,
I just smashed another dozen scouting sugar ants,
and I sang to them as I did,
hoping their tiny antennae
knew the deal,
we throw ant-edibles in rodent safe containers,
out past the edge
of the motion sensors,
ants of all common sorts are welcome.
- because our fire ants have some how mellowed
- since arriving from Texas
on waves of dread… fire ants,
maybe that kind never got here. any way
- now, we live with them and all the others
- on the edge of the eastern pacific
- super colony that has no war
- on its inner or outer edges.
But one must consider ants
as sapient sentients,
senders of signals, wireless radio,
wee-tiny antennae vibes,
to sing a song ants can translate that says,
This human says: I shall **** all you send to my kitchen.
It is a thought song, you think it, as you ****
You might try it if, you consider
ants are not just pests, but
interesting life tools, for living in dirt
with no screens, lack so obvious it is
noticed by any with attention to antennae
as intense as
that that of Everest Pax, who in April began his sixth year…
Now, who
can hold the ant mind
long enough to imagine the queen,
with Ender-vision?
Through the eyes that watched me **** the scouts,
and signal boundaries to the Queen.
Jun 12, 2021
Jun 12, 2021 at 4:36 PM UTC
Adrift on her very first voyage
With the sea coursing in through her bow
Lay the cruise ship, the S.S. Lumbago
There was scarcely a chance for her now
But Ahoy! On the western horizon
In a flurry of yellow and green
That ender of blight and a damsel’s delight
And he’s always on cue for his scene
It’s Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
It’s got seating for seventy people
And the service is well above par
There’s an adequate medical unit
And a modest but elegant bar
What more could a man ever dream of
In a Luxury Budgerigar?
Well…
The forests of England were burning
So the foxes escaped to the city
The badgers had taken to looting
And the squirrels had formed a committee
But who should arise from a manhole
With a confident gleam in his eye?
That destroyer of woes with a spring in his toes
And he’s quick with a witty reply…
Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
With adjustable hose pipe attachment
It’s got wheels like a feathery car
The forests were dowsed and the fauna re-housed
With a three day retreat at a spa
It’s a thing to admire and surely acquire
The Luxury Budgerigar!
But…
Susan was stricken with sorrow
Twas her darkest, most fearful hour
A spider had wrestled her out of her bath
And set up his home in the shower
But who should jump out of the wardrobe
With an innocent look on his face?
That singer of shanties, remover of *******
And first in an obstacle race
Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar
With a sucker for spiders and beetles
That deposits them into a jar
There’s a tiny wee restaurant to feed them
It was given a Michelin star
A remarkable thing with retractable wings
Is a Luxury Budgerigar
So if you should be in a pet shop
And you see just the critter for you
Please heed this advice: make a note of the price
Then proceed to the back of the queue
When you ask for your preference of creature
Should it whistle, slither or waddle
Do as Sir Patrick Stewart did
And opt for the Luxury model
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
eye cantaloupe
batshit Midas
writer's iambic
within usurp
ender's egret
wherewithal
nearly Mykonos
orangutan elsewhere
eye dye.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
i am a survivor, i am a scavenger, i am a man with
no shame. i am an artist, i am a writer, i am an
iconoclast. i am a lover, i am a creator, i am a
destroyer. i am quality, i am worthless, i am absence.
i am man, i am conqueror, i am world-ender. i am an
addict, i am old, i am wizened. i am free, i am
young, i am unnurtured. i am secret, i am becoming,
i am a wreck. i am a shadow, i am oblivious, i am
obvious. i am obscene, i am abhorrent, i am hidden. i
am a seeker, i abstain – i am a liar. i am a deceiver, i am
an actor, i am unknowable. i am entirety, i am
citizen, i am insolence. i am thought, i am concept, i
am revoked. i am wanderer, i am thoughtless, i am
lost. i am undying, i am inured, i am fleeting. i am
alive, i am mythologized, i am end. i am a thief, i am
a monster, i am alive. i am a philosopher, i am a
thinker, i am superfluous. i am good, i am evil, i am
unaligned. i am pragmastic, i am irrational, i am
common sanity. i am emotional, i am withheld, i am
interred. i am new, i am ruined, i am interregna. i am
proper, i am erased, i am discrection. i am sought, i
am not, i am simple. i am somnolent, i am erratic, i
am errancy. i am abstinence, i am uncontrolled, i am
the world. i am fraught, i am emptiness, i am
humanity. i am dandelion, i am magnolia, i am an
albatross. i am talent, i am intelligence, i am
fettered. i am here and now, i am then and when,
i am done.
i am malice, i am harm, i am self-destruction.
i am a fighter, i am encephalic, i am lost.
i am alone, i am alive, i am free.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 2:46 AM UTC
~
*I'm an exit wound
I'm a numinous obstacle
I'm about to make landfall
I'm about to break free
I'm a nerve ender
A fascinator
A purifier
A world populator
And I'm about to break through
I'm the push and pull
I'm a counter argument
I'm dissonance resistance
I'm viral replication
I'm about to break out
I'm a singularity
I'm a spark
I'm the perfect detonator
To mind and heart
And I'm about to break up
I'm a simulacra
I'm an oscillation
Made of breath only
I'm a living, moving imprint
Of what no longer is
Yet somehow seems to be*
~
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 2:02 PM UTC
Can you hear leftover nightlife leaving veins?
Can you feel stumbling heartbeat tripping on nicotine?
This is the horrible trance of your world's youth in distress
You doomed us with war paint, war games, war school
We respond with war song, war faces, war spirit
When will we outgrow Ender's game?
"Every seed dies before it grows"
Do you take any responsibility for the outcome of selfish politics?
Have you left us here to die?
We are your future
We are caring for the elderly
We advance your technology
We fill your classrooms
We eat your chemicals
We buy your products
We will cry to your great-grandchildren
We will cry at your graves
This is the sound of a billion hearts ingrown, spines breaking
You help us waste our youth, our vigor, our intelligence
Will you help us die?
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
de er hårdt at sige farvel
til en du elsker
eller har elsket
lige meget hvad der bliver sagt
eller hvordan det bliver gjort
fordi ordet farvel er symbolet
på en afsked og ikke løsrivelse
i den forstand at man sagtens
kan sige farvel uden at give slip
og jeg tror aldrig helt at jeg har
sluppet dig
eller at du har sluppet mig
selvom vi sagde farvel for
længe længe siden
og jeg savner dig stadig
nogle gange når tiden går baglæns
og jeg mindes alle de gange du
rørte mig med dine lange fingre
og dit skæve smil der afslørede
skæve tænder
og jeg elskede hvert sekund med
dig
selv de sekunder hvor jeg havde
lyst til at rive dit hovede af
fordi du frustrede mig så meget
da du var inkompetent i forhold
til at være ærlig overfor dig selv
og mig
nu ville jeg bare ønske at jeg havde
holdt fast på dig og sørget for at
du følte dig tryg så du kunne være
ærlig
men nu ligger vi i to forskellige ender
af landet og savner hinanden
for vi ved ikke hvordan vi skal være
venner for det var vi vel egentlig aldrig
men jeg har ikke sluppet dig fri endnu
du vil stadig altid være min store kærlighed
og hvem ved om du finder din vej
ind i min radius igen
så vi kan smelte sammen
og ligge i din seng på en gade i København
og drømme om et mere spændene liv
men lige nu har du en anden
som ikke er mig
og selvom jeg godt ved at du ikke
elsker hende som du elsker mig
er det stadig kærlighed
og jeg elsker at du endelig har turde
at satse lidt på dig selv
for du ved jeg syntes du var det hele
værd, selvom du ikke selv kunne se
at du var andet end ét stort rod
du ved jeg ønsker dig alt det bedste
så indtil vi mødes igen
skal du vide at det altid er hårdt at
sige farvel
og da jeg fortalte dig at det var for sent
nu
var dét det sværeste jeg nogensinde har
gjort
fordi jeg ikke har givet slip endnu
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
See that girl
She’s a try hard
She likes to play with her hair
She bites her nails off when she tries to talk to people
Such a disgusting and annoying one
She thinks that she’s amazing
But she’s no prima donna
She sings
She dances
She writes
But she *****
She’s not pretty
She’s not tall
She’s not skinny
Not at all.
You see me don’t you?
Your eyes are filled with hatred
I can feel them glaring at me
Trying to **** me with your stares
Trying hard not to tear me up
Pulling my hair to ease up the moment
I bit my nails off to **** the tension
I pretend that I am ok, that I am grand
I sing
I dance
I write
They’re my outlet for everything
Don’t take them away
But, I don’t care anymore
Not at all.
She irritates me
She’s numb
She does not feel how negative we are towards her
Or is she that dumb?
Drama Queen!
Always making a scene!
Attention seeker!
Someone give her a time out!
Enough with her antics already!
You’re just another girl bullying yourself
It’s not our fault
That you hate yourself
That you cut yourself
In fact we don’t give a **** about you
Not at all.
I’ll go away
I’ll vanish
I don’t want your attention
Your attention is focusing on me
The reason why you see everything
The reason why you hate me
You said enough
You said I’m bullying myself
It’s all my fault
I am my destroyer
I am my own demon
I am my ender
I am nothing
Did I care to live another day in this Earth?
Not at all.
-jnldm
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
en integral
har den funktion
at hvis man differentierer den
ender man op
med den originale
ligning
uændret
alt er
som før
måske er det derfor
jeg troede
at endnu en chance
til endnu en idiot
ville give mig
ro i sjælen
styr på livet
og mine udregninger
var korrekte
12 næsten 13
men resultatet
var katastrofalt
og jeg kunne
strege det over
men
jeg satte
to streger under
i stedet
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC
Christ’s glaring birth in a
Holy exquisite manger to
Ring the arrival of godsend
In this grim world with a
Sacred peaceful smile and
Tender divine eyes in
Mother Mary’s pure hands
Arising like a graceful
Shining star full of love!
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
my conniving, cunning cat
so quick to pivot on paws,
but caring enough to walk the alleyways that are my
head and heart.
your claws cascade on my soul,
and i know you love me,
but you are a collective culling..
i can't bring myself to return to sender,
love my ender.
my alley cat,
i can't help but surrender,
to your every rake and take of my being.
you are the poison i crave,
the liquor on the top shelf.
the cat that possesses the power,
to bleed me raw and,
steal the love i can't help.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 10:34 PM UTC
I find I am hollow
Empty
Serene in the silence
Alone
My feet soundless, swift
My face unmemorable
My hand shook by men of passionate deceit
And I find myself filled with their purpose
Purpose of others drives me
Craving no prize, praising no God
Only me
Only violence
Soul pushed to the cages in the back of me
My body is honed
My weapon part of me
I fly but no wind follows
I break the unmendable
Harbinger of silence
Deliverer of death
Revealer of mortality
Ender
Money and treasure for blood and breath
Unrelenting, unavoidable
Hands choking pulse from veins
Slowing
Necks crack as they swing out of place
Breaking
Gun hot from parting lead bullet
Body heavy as it drops
Death will come swiftly to any, to all
Until I am emptied once more
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
Der er mørkt over København
Som en dødstrussel.
Den, du fik i foregårs
på lægens kontor
Der hvor han tøvede og sagde
"Du må hellere sidde ned"
Siden har du været tavs.
Tavs som ind i Helvede. Et sted
du ikke ender, men et sted,
som du føler du er.
Kræften æder dig op,
gør dig svag og lille.
Tankevækkende, når du burde være den store.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
diskolysets skær strejfer henover mine blødende fingrespidser, mens hvert evig eneste lille ord fra sangen, så fint lader sig skære dybt ind under min hud, og efterlader mørkerøde blodaftryk på det ellers så hvide lagen. dog tvivler jeg på, om det kan være værre end den knugende tomhed, der finurligt forfører sig ind mellem de lydløse skrig og misantropiske tankegange, når ikke kassettebåndets søde klang af musik udløser rotationen af drømmescenarier, rundt i mine efterhånden slidte tankestrømme.
for ja, kærligheden til dig ramte mig som en syngende lussing, og mine våde kinder er stadig tydeligt afmærket fra slaget.
jeg tror aldrig jeg lærer, at leve med din signifikante tilstedeværelse, og dets påvirkninger på mig.
hver gang du vender hovedet, har du mine øjne i nakken, strålende af fascination, over dit æteriske jeg. for smuk, er du altså ikke kun - du er nærmere en spiritistisk ektoplasma, og jeg frygter altid, at det hele blot var en række af illusioner, der fuldstændigt uplanlagt, men gang på gang, plantede sig helt inden i mig.
jeg tager mig selv i at ønske ved hvert et stjerneskud, for ikke at nævne alle de gange jeg har siddet og pillet enkelte rosenblade af ad gangen, i et ihærdigt håb om, at ende med; "han elsker mig"
men som virkeligheden afspejler sig i denne latterlige metafor, så ender jeg altid med det forkerte sidste blad, hvorefter jeg med en apatisk bevægelse, smider alle de afrevne rosenblade ned på den kolde jord - som var de alle håbende, der dalede.
i en elegant slutning, afspiller jeg den hjerteskærende sang igen, mens jeg ganske nydeligt danser let henover rosenbladende, som en ironisk præsentation af, at livet burde være en dans på roser
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
Det er jo på mange måder klart
at jeg stadig er sur
Det er jo effekten
ved at være svigtet
Det gør ondt i hjertet
så hjernen ender op
vred og bitter
Så det er jo klart
at jeg kigger tomt på dig
og råber af dig
hen over køkkenbordet
Det er jo effekten
ved at være svigtet
Og hver gang vi taler om det
så er det som
at det fungerer i teorien
men virker bare ikke helt i praksis
Vi ender jo stadig op med
døde blikke
og vrede i lungerne
Den her aften skændtes vi
helt indtil en vigtig sandhed
røg ud af mig;
at jeg nok egentlig bare er vred,
fordi jeg sad
en time
i bus
for at komme i skole
dengang
og måtte dele seng
med mor
og de andre
siden der ikke var penge
til varme
dengang
Den vigtige sandhed om;
at jeg nok egentlig bare stadig er vred
i dag
fordi jeg blev svigtet af dig
dengang
Vrede er jo en effekt af svigt
så det er jo klart
at jeg stadig hader dig lidt
Nu ligger jeg i min bunke af vasketøj på gulvet og tænker;
at det nok egentlig var meget godt at jeg fandt ud af det nu.
Nu har jeg formodentlig sparet mig selv for hundredevis af psykologtimer som 64årig
Bare ved at vide det, som nok egentlig
er klart
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
My dear you had surprised me,
My friends you had planned.
To help you in giving me,
That something in your hand.
Obvious? A little bit,
But sweet as you ever were.
A rose as blue as the sky,
Another friend saying hi.
A white chocolate for more sweetness,
And doubled as ever for your concern.
My life's beginner and Ender,
Thank you, I may be scared,
But I will endure,
Any relationship,
We might conjure.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
Parlamentarisme rimer ikke på
Flertalsdiktatur
Men i mit snævre hoved
Kommer det til syne på tur
patriarken er autoritær
De lyver oppe på borgen
Synger sange om at være os nær
Efterlader os til sorgen
Relevansen er ligegyldig
De lod en matriark drage stemmer
Væltede patriarken med alle lemmer
Bankede hele folket ned
Som endnu et af borgens spil
Det er ligegyldigt hvad de siger
Man kan da ikke have en statsminister
Til at støtte vores piger
Kampen for feminisme
Blev hurtigt frosset af hans isse
De har fandme bare at holde kæft
Ingen af dem burde arbejde i den gesjæft
De skal alle brænde en dag
Skærsilden lader ingen gå tilbag'
De kan alle spinne som de vil
Men en dag så er det **** som et spil
De ender deres omgang
Synger den samme sang
Skattesnydere alle sammen
Jeg føler mig så vammel
En dag skal jeg stemme
Om min tanke vil væmme?
Jeg stemmer blankt
Mens jeg lytter til skambankt
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
This life
Can be boiled down
To a few out of body experiences
In my boxers
In my bed
With my dog
Laying on the floor
Between the clean pile
And the ***** one
It can be traced
By borrowed books
And cigar butts
And little bits of broken glass
That I still find on the back porch
It can be measured
If you hold it up to the light
And see how much shines through,
Leaking out the other side
Like the drip of a faucet
To be carried away
By the river
That takes all life
Eventually
I found myself
Washed up in the dark
On the cool wet stone
Of the shore.
I couldn’t see the river
But the current rumbled
With the voice of the ender
Reaching out to pull me in.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC
My swirls,
My calm.
My deepest resolves.
Come undone with you,
My beginning, my end.
I thought a lie,
Another wrong.
You made my thoughts go AWOL.
Ender of my life
Beginner of my rebirth:
Will you let me be yours?
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
Relaxed in a state of absolute calm,
The air of serenity a soothing balm
To ease the imminent struggle ahead
As I sit on my throne of porcelain and shed
The anticipation tugging at my bowels
And out come the mud dogs wearing brown cowls.
Out they come and my tension is released,
In a violent cacophony the silence has ceased!
It has been replaced by a beautiful sound
Like the music of nymphs, with voices all crowned.
The release is a final stinky-sweet ender,
As the *** paper flows my world lights up with splendor!
The sunlight filters through my one bathroom porthole
And the warm rays splay playfully across the hairs of my ********
This is the moment, ***** all the rest.
Nothing else can compare...a good **** is best.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
There’s this list:
an almost perfect year-ender,
a chord that didn’t fit so
you had to play it broken,
drafts written for the purpose
of being great poems
but remained as is because
they were missing powerful
words.
The deafening silence.
The feelings you tried to ****
The misunderstood hints.
Or tropical countries waiting for snow
and insightful books selling poorly.
Somewhere, a boy caught up
in a scenery and bright sunlight.
He wants to be a photographer
but fails to capture passing moments.
“They were too fast”, he said.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 2:27 AM UTC