Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Levon Tamazyan Dec 2014
Lieve Celina ,
Ik heb gehoord dat je een One Direction fan bent,
een nogal grote ook.
Er schoot Something Great in me te voor ,
Ik weet dat One Thing dat jij wilt is om *** te ontmoetenLieve Celina ,
Ik heb gehoord dat je een One Direction fan bent,
een nogal grote ook.
Er schoot Something Great in me te voor ,
Ik weet dat One Thing dat jij wilt is om *** te ontmoeten
Dus ik was Up All Night
om iets over een energie volle meid te schrijven
die van One Direction houd met No Control
en dat is niet erg want You Gotta be You
One way or another wou ik er iets moois van maken
What makes you beautiful is dat jij jezelf blijft
In de klas of buiten de klas blijf je wie je bent en dat is iets dat niemand van je af kan nemen
blijf wie je bent en One Way Or Another
zullen je dromen uit komen maar Live While You’re Young
wees Alive en Believe in your Heart
Magic Moments zijn er voor even maar die Midnight Memories blijven in je hart
Ik wil dat je Magic Moments in je leven maakt en daarvan de Memories in je hart opslaat
Leef je leven als 1 groot Moment en Happily believe in your Heart
zodat je alle obstakels overwint en dat je je dromen waar maakt.
Stand Up en wees jezelf , kijk de wereld aan en overkom alle moeilijke tijden
door altijd jezelf te blijven , een energie volle meid die toch gewoon wilt slapen
maar ze weet andere blij te houden met haar energie volle houding.
We zijn allemaal heel erg dankbaar dat je ons blij houd als je bij ons bent en
dat is iets dat niemand van je kan afnemen.
You are more than a class mate , you are a Girl Almighty


----Door Levon Tamazyan
Before I became a woman, life was just a collection of childish adventures
Playing "ten-ten" in the evening, oblivious to the chickens coming home to roost.
"Always" was just another word and the only cramps I experienced
were those that resulted from climbing too many trees.
Barry was just "the boy with the big head"
and Joseph was my "play-play" husband.
"Hide and seek" was not a game of hearts
and cartoons always had a moral lesson.
*** was an example of a "three letter word" and life was so simple without having to wear a bra.
Before I became a woman,
fathers were always the men and wives were always women.
Nobody confused those roles becaue
"Ali" was always the boy and "Simbi" was the girl
"Adam was to Eve" as pencil was to eraser.


Before I became a woman,
foolishness was not sold on TV because the truth was preached in black and white.
A ten year old was still her mother's baby  not bride of bearded old man.
Children were going to be leaders of tomorrow,
"Twerk" was not an example of a verb
because Hannah Montana still had her clothes on.
The boys didn't stop to stare and tease because I was unripe for harvest.
Sunday school was about "How the fish ate Jonah"
and not about Salem my newest "crush."
Before I became a woman,
I wanted to marry a doctor, pilot, Jack Sparrow,
or the boy next door.
Then I grew up...


When I became a woman,
Life took on a new meaning
A collection of choices and decisions.
The boys didn't want to play no more and mama said I had to be lady.
Sally and Amina didn't want to talk anymore because puberty had reared its head
and boys were more interesting than our games of old.
When I became a woman,
I learnt about purpose and the ills of society
I stepped back and saw that little girl gradually fade away.
I did not try to run after her, her part in my life was  over.
I watched her go with a mixture of pain and happiness
I stepped into my woman suit and made my own mistakes.
I cried my own tears and bandaged my own wounds
I knew now that life was only fair to those who never gave up.


Now lipsticks and mascara have replaced a lot of play things.
Now I am woman and I want to marry ambition, guts and a man who is not too proud to believe in God.
Now I am a woman but no  child is still a leader.
Now I am a woman and I own my mistakes
Now I am a woman and I am not afraid to love, live or pray.
Now I am a woman but I have more than a figure eight.
Now I am a woman and I understand my mother better.

I pray for you young girl,
may you have the courage to wave childhood goodbye
when the sounds of womanhood begin to reach your ears
May you be brave enough to miss a game of hopscotch
so you can catch a train to destiny.
And when you are ripe for marriage
may you not look for a man that will validate your existence.
Put away childishness as you wait for that boy
that has become a MAN WHEN YOU BECOME A WOMAN.

#EchoesOfChildhood #PoemsForTheYoungMe #Womanhood #Love #Live #Play #MoveOn #Energie
Vat ń slukkie verdriet
En ontnugter jou verstand
Tot dit niks meer
As net ń spookdorp is
Wat tolbos oor
Jou silwerdoek-lewe nie

Jy voed op energie
, maar in ń moeë wêreld
Teer jy jouself uit
Totdat honger straatkinders
Jou ribbes speel
soos marimbas
Vir net ń laaste trek.

Dalk is vandag
Net een van dáárdie dae
, waar jy my sou red
En jou skouers
my vertroosting sou wees-
Jou lippe my spiersalf
Vir ń hart wat seer
geklop is.

Een van daardie dae
, maar jy is nog een van
Dáárdie mense...

Een van mý dae...
Iets wat jy nie is nie-
Myne
Ich will dass ihr mir vertraut
Ich will dass ihr mir glaubt
Ich will eure Blicke spüren
Ich will jeden Herzschlag kontrollieren

Ich will eure Stimmen hören
Ich will die Ruhe stören
Ich will dass ihr mich gut seht
Ich will dass ihr mich versteht

Ich will eure Phantasie
Ich will eure Energie
Ich will eure Hände sehen
Ich will in Beifall untergehen

Seht ihr mich?
Versteht ihr mich?
Fühlt ihr mich?
Hört ihr mich?

Könnt ihr mich hören?
Wir hören dich
Könnt ihr mich sehen?
Wir sehen dich
Könnt ihr mich fühlen?
Wir fühlen dich
Ich versteh' euch nicht

Ich will

Wir wollen dass ihr uns vertraut
Wir wollen dass ihr uns alles glaubt
Wir wollen eure Hände sehen
Wir wollen in Beifall untergeh'n - ja

Könnt ihr mich hören?
Wir hören dich
Könnt ihr mich sehen?
Wir sehen dich
Könnt ihr mich fühlen?
Wir fühlen dich
Ich versteh' euch nicht

Könnt ihr uns hören?
Wir hören euch
Könnt ihr uns sehen?
Wir sehen euch
Könnt ihr uns fühlen?
Wir fühlen euch
Wir verstehe'n euch nicht

Ich will
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnkVjkJEouQ
--
I want you to trust me
I want you to believe me
I want to feel your eyes
I want to control every heartbeat

I want to hear your voices
I want to disturb the peace
I want you to see me well
I want you to understand me

I want your fantasy
I want your energy
I want to see your hands
I want to go down in applause

Do you see me?
Do you understand me?
Do you feel me?
Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?
We hear you
Can you see me?
We see you
Can you feel me?
We feel you
I don't understand you

I want

We want you to trust us
We want you to believe everything from us
We want to see your hands
We want to go down in applause - yeah

Can you hear me?
We hear you
Can you see me?
We see you
Can you feel me?
We feel you
I don't understand you

Can you hear us?
We hear you
Can you see us?
We see you
Can you feel us?
We feel you
We don't understand you

I want
psm Dec 2013
everyday people ask me what depression is like
id always anwer you wouldnt understand.

you wouldnt understand what it feels like to drown deeper in sadness everyday,
or how it feels to cry myself to sleep,and not say a peep.

you wouldnt understand the pain i hide behind that bright smile i constantly put on,
to hide all that shame.

you would never understand the cuts on my body,
people constantly telling me ive been naughty.

i constantly feel like im going insane,
what is wrong with my brain, im sick of hiding all the pain.

but most importantly you would never understand true sadness,
what its like to constantly feel sick,not physicly but mentally.

constantly having no energie, wanting to erase your memory.
depression
but this is the reality of sadness
Yarinya!
Born into a life which gave you little or no choices.
Your basket of options had only oranges for sale and a tray to balance on your head.
Yarinya!
Your small feet tread the path baked hot by the mean African sun.
Yarinya!
Working to cater for the adult mouths of those who forged you.
Yarinya!
Life has so much to offer you but how your arms are deprived their right to reaching out
because they  support the tray on your head.

Yarinya!
The rags you wear shall not mark you out for shame.
Yarinya!
Your kind have shaped the world for the better.
Yarinya!
I heard about another of your kind who once sold bread on the streets of Lagos.
They say she unconsciously walked into a picture
and for her, that was the beginning of a new story.
Yarinya!
The tray on your head shall not suppress the intellect hidden in your head.

Yarinya!
Until I find you, hold on to that tray and sell the best oranges you can find.
Until I find you, bear the blisters on your feet for lack of shoes.
Until I find you, keep your story alive on your lips.
When I find you, we'll sell your story, "Yarinya Mai Talle."
And the world will know that her children
deserve much more than just clean water and UNICEF endorsements
or a tray of hawker's items and a society dead to its conscience.

Yarinya!
Where ever you are,
On the streets of Italy or under the bridge in Lagos,
Under the "dogon yaro" tree in Kano or in your father's house in Brazil
Until I find you,
God keep you from those seeking to marry you at five
so they can wife you at eight.

*Yarinya-means "young female"

#DiariesOfAnAfricanChild #ChildMarriage #ModernSlavery #ChildProstitution #AwakenYourConscience #IfIWereYourChild #PhotosByOlumideOresugun #Liferadio101 #Energie
Élodie BLT Feb 2015
this morning i woke up,
With the feeling i haven't slept in days.
That my voice was gone forever,
but i took a deep breath,
"I can do this"
thats what i told myself
and I got out of bed,
and got dressed.
Went to school.
No breakfast, no lunch.
People were always making comment about me.
"Walk faster, you're slow"
Thanks i know, i don't have any energie.
That's what i said in my head.
"You're not eating."
Are you sherlock holmes? Yes i'm not eating, i'm not hungry
Or thats what i tell myself.
"You look sad"
I am, and i want to throw up.
But i did not say anything
"You look Fat I mean, more than usual."
Thanks. Realy thank.

When i got home,
I went in my room,
Cried in my bed.
Got up,
Took my favorite tool,
And made myself feel beter.
At lest, that's what i told myself when i was hiding the blood runing threw my finger.
That's what i tell Myself.
Yeah.
Deep
And ******.
Amore ardente da dove prendi tutte queste energie?
Dalle memorie confuse tra sogni e paure che vorrei bruciare?

Amore perché persisti e non sei fugace come lei?

Strapperei il mio cuore dal mio petto per non sentirlo più pulsare d'un amore morto.

Amore violento che mi hai reso succube dei miei sentimenti, non vorrai mica bruciare per sempre?

Attendo pazientemente che tu mi illuda della tua fine con le tue ceneri
A D.T.
Spesso ripeto sottovoce
che si deve vivere di ricordi solo
quando mi sono rimasti pochi giorni.
Quello che è passato
è come se non ci fosse mai stato.
Il passato è un laccio che
stringe la gola alla mia mente
e toglie energie per affrontare il mio presente.
Il passato è solo fumo
di chi non ha vissuto.
Quello che ** già visto
non conta più niente.
Il passato ed il futuro
non sono realtà ma solo effimere illusioni.
Devo liberarmi del tempo
e vivere il presente giacché non esiste altro tempo
che questo meraviglioso istante.
My  love for you is like "butter."
Melting at the sight of you
and yet what I feel seems solid.
Like two slices of bread
waiting to be put one on top the other
we compliment each other.

My love for you is like butter,
butterflies in my stomach
and skips and leaps in my heart.
My love for you is like butter
Soft, yet hard...
#Energie #LoveOnlyKnowsYou @eneric24
Daan Mar 2019
Energie uit zien, uit anderen,
ik wil mezelf niet veranderen.
Alleen kan ik niet verder.

Samen terug is ook geen optie.
En het gras groener
Spesso ripeto sottovoce
che si deve vivere di ricordi solo
quando mi sono rimasti pochi giorni.
Quello che è passato
è come se non ci fosse mai stato.
Il passato è un laccio che
stringe la gola alla mia mente
e toglie energie per affrontare il mio presente.
Il passato è solo fumo
di chi non ha vissuto.
Quello che ** già visto
non conta più niente.
Il passato ed il futuro
non sono realtà ma solo effimere illusioni.
Devo liberarmi del tempo
e vivere il presente giacché non esiste altro tempo
che questo meraviglioso istante.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
my god, what am i going to do about Monday morning,
that coffee date?
sure as ****, Sherlock... you'll go to the Turk
for a beard trim, either either tomorrow or
over the weekend...
you'll make this weekend epic...
you'll cycle to either central London
or to Epping... either trip...
you'll do more push-ups... you'll lift some extra
weights... beef up... puff up...
you'll do that...
you'll also think about how you'll spend
your first earned money.... in a long long time...
sure... i'll spend it in a brothel...
i don't gamble: lucky... it's not like i have
*** regularly... it's worth spending money
on art galleries, brothels... alcohol...
after coffee, oh she wanted to meet up:
i know why... 10 or so scrambled messages later:
you have a physical copy of your book?
i have a physical copy of my book?!
it's not merely a pdf file?
it's not merely a pdf file?!
oh, right, right... yeah...
no wonder she wanted to meet up for coffee...
it will seriously take a miracle
for me to become loved up like the teenager
i once was available / able to...
who knows...
   my heart is hardened... yet it's not forever lost...
it will take a miracle...
it would probably require dating a woman
with a child... whereby i could turn my affection
onto the child, rather than stress it for a woman...
that would be so much easier...
a bit like petting a cat... i think loving a child
unconditionally would be so much more easier
than loving a woman within the confines of her...
ahem... expectations... conditions...
yet somehow still "unconditionally":
what a load of *******! seriously...
i was feeling slightly existed, slightly stressed...
hell... one stone, four birds...
took a **** while taking a **** while jerking off
while subsequently taking a shower...
on the throne of thrones... later to the sea of Galilee for
my "baptism"...
me... at the brothel...
what do i see? the worst kind of *******...
honest to god, is it really this easy these days?
this simp: cough up dough?
for what?! a picture?!
no touchy-feely... no *******?!
no feel of the *******... no sniffing of the hair?
no conversation face to face?!
are we talking about men... or ******* pseudo-eunuchs?!
at least eunuchs were put in charge
of the Ottoman harems...

i pay for what i can get... i'm not paying for some
****** video of a girl ******* of showing
off her ****, her vaginal region...
i'm paying for the entire body,
i rub my finger-tips prior to entry to the brothel
against concrete, to rough them up...
to subsequently touch something... soft...

and with the current climate, socio-political and
what not...
oh... oooh... some of us diagnoses as having
a psychotic disorder, complex...
diagnoses as schizophrenic...
how we wait for the S.J.W's...
i'm gagging for some blood sports...
the whole victimhood mentality:
i'm waiting...

over 10 ******* years in a de profundis hell-hole...
no help... helped myself...
i feel... resurrected...
no friends... friends ****** off... **** 'em...
better for them that they did...
better for me...
i could become myself...
will i leave traces of being an arrogant ****?
of course i will... did i break any law?
last time i was hand-cuffed was for *******
in an alleyway...
the police-officer cuffed me, shouted at me...
arrogant little *****...
a female officer was noting it all down...
i was un-cuffed and waked home
scot-free...

oh **** me: i'm charged... my heart is raging...
if the coffee is not enough,
where to? no, not a gallery...
i'll tell her: Havering County Park...
SEQUOIAS... over 100 example of these
gentle giants... just off Havering-atte-Bower...
a village that remembers days prior
to the Hastings invasion...
i guess i'd think about ******* her in the woods
all the ****** time...

perhaps she's like me...
she like the smell of horseshit in the morning...
perhaps she likes the scent of... frost...
an entourage of trees... mud...
sickly sweet mush of...
the gravity of winter... the exiled insects...

ooh... in this little dynamic of victimhood...
where do i lie, on the spectrum?
will they come after a schizoid?
these femnist-fashists?
these trans-gender critical-race-theory
inclusivity coaches?
after a schizoid?
oh... little ol' me thinking that we're off-limits...
i have reached a pinnacle,
now i just hallucinate my name...
when i do... it feels like the wind is speaking...
it's actually very pleasant...
i become doubly aware...

it really wasn't a mistake having to take 2 years off of
my 20s to read Heidegger's Sein und Zeit...
working as a steward at public events...
believe me... dasein?! being: there...
i know where i'm supposedly to be...
i have an added focus...
                my role is only minor...
but it's the optics...
i look the part... and... oddly enough... people
respect me for me looking the part...
i'm not a manager...
i'm just a pawn... but... like Louis XIV said...
appearances guide all fathom-ability
of undercurrents... non-verbatim...

that word should not exist as a hyphen compounding...
fathom-ability ought to be one...
are these English ******* going to keep up with
their forefathers, the Swabians, the Pomeranians...
or are we going to get more of this...
*******... shrapnel?!
conjunctions, definite / indefinite articles...
personal, huh?! pronouns?!
you sick or something, or just ******* *******?!

it truly takes a supposed madman to tell all
the supposed sane people to:
get the **** back in line... to return to a collective
sensibility, to stop appealing to
the irritations of minorities...
no... i'm done...
i'm not here to entertain one minority status
above another minority status...
i guess the S.J.W.s "forgot" to fight for the rights
of... people like us... diagnosed as schizophrenics...
sorry... did you forget?!

i'm not even role-playing... i'm prescribed not working
more than 16 hours a week...
although... i could kick-*** for about 15 hours more...

from under the yoke of ******,
from under the yoke of Communism:
and those ******* Russians...
to... ahem... this?
letf-oids?

*******: hälftenmenschen...
no... not half-people: no, not halbmenschen...
halves-people...
i already employed a verb within the confines
of the noun...
love received: is the love given...
if i'm to be deemed schizoid:
above bilingual... love received:
is the love given... simple, no?

godsmack: awake...
i just want to trap this one little... fly of a lefty
in my architecture of a web...
then again... being a spider is no fun...
this one little rabbit... a dark forest:
and i am a fox... ewignacht!
dehnbarschatten!

       erweitert pupille: ich sehen!
blut mischen mit adrenalin!
   ja! freude! energie! zweck und arbeit!
ja!

bring them my way... i want to eat something...
ich wollen zu schmausen!
(itchy teeth) juckendzähne!

my archetype? Diogenes of Sinope,
i love people...
love them to bits...
esp. when... they don't engage in
giving me their.... ******* opinions!
come one minute, gone
the next!

- guess what, though...
they want to ask me about diacritical
marks in Latin,
Haguel (south korean)....
katakana "vs." hiragana?
sure, i'll reply...
but not here, not now....
Marie Nov 2020
Transzendenter Ort

in stagnierender Energie

im substanzlosen Nichts lauern

Wirklichkeiten
Valentin Eni Nov 19
(Literal Translation from Romanian)

This poem, actually,
it's not even a poem,
just some random text
that
will waste your time
and energy,
will try to hurt you
and rub salt in the wound,
it will mess with you a bit.
That's what happens when you don't read
what you're supposed to.
This text was born
to teach you a lesson:
next time
be more careful
with what you choose to read!

(Alternative translation I)

A Poem Not Meant to Be Read

This poem, in truth,
is no poem at all,
just a simple text,
meant to stall—
to steal your time,
your energy, too,
to wound your soul
and rub in the salt,
mocking you,
it’s your fault.

That’s what happens, don’t you see,
when you read what’s unworthy.

This text was born with a goal in mind:
to set you straight, to make you find
a better path, a wiser way—
be cautious in the books you stray!

(Alternative translation II)

not recommended for reading

this poem truthfully
isn't even poetry,
just some random text
that will steal your time
and drain your energy,
will try to wound you deep
and on that wound will heap
salt, in other words
it's making fun of you.
that's what you get, it's true,
when you don't read what's due.
this text was meant to be
a lesson, you will see:
next time
be more careful
with what you choose to read!

(Original poem)

poezie nerecomandată lecturii

această poezie, de fapt
nici nu e poezie,
ci doar un text oarecare
care
îţi va lua ceva timp
şi ceva energie,
va încerca să te rănească
şi pe rană să-ţi presoare
sare,
adică îsi va bate niţel joc de tine.
aşa-i, când nu citeşti
ceea ce se cuvine.
acestui text i-a fost dat să se nască
pentru a te pune la cale:
altădată
să fii mai precaut
în lecturile tale!
The poem playfully critiques the act of reading indiscriminately, mocking both itself and the reader for engaging with texts of questionable value. It examines the relationship between writer, text, and reader, exploring notions of expectation, disappointment, and self-reflection.

The tone is ironic, self-aware, and lightly admonishing. The poem is a "non-poem," undermining its significance while drawing readers into its trap. Its conversational style, fragmented structure, and casual rhythm reinforce the playful nature, making the critique feel lighthearted rather than harsh.

Mocking its lack of depth, the "poem" provokes the reader to reflect on their choices and consider the value of what they consume. At the same time, it critiques the culture of superficial engagement, urging a more thoughtful approach to literature.
Spesso ripeto sottovoce
che si deve vivere di ricordi solo
quando mi sono rimasti pochi giorni.
Quello che è passato
è come se non ci fosse mai stato.
Il passato è un laccio che
stringe la gola alla mia mente
e toglie energie per affrontare il mio presente.
Il passato è solo fumo
di chi non ha vissuto.
Quello che ** già visto
non conta più niente.
Il passato ed il futuro
non sono realtà ma solo effimere illusioni.
Devo liberarmi del tempo
e vivere il presente giacché non esiste altro tempo
che questo meraviglioso istante.
A Henslo May 2020
At break of day I never fail
to pronto check my personal mail
for a bedding offer by Françoise Saget
From pillow case to duvet set
canopy drape or four-poster veil

Dear madame Françoise Saget
If I surrender to 'douce energie'
or your pattern 'bouquet fleuri'
or better perhaps 'rêverie poète'
Will you serve breakfast in bed?
AH 2020
Françoise Saget © is a French expert brand specialising in home linen
Jonas May 16
Gefühlt
Werde ich Tag für Tag
Etwas asozialer

Entferne mich mehr und mehr
Von euch und eurem Wahnsinn
Das was ihr Leben schimpft
Oder noch schlimmer, "Norm"

Leider damit auch von dir
Mir
Dieses Ich, das ich immer sein wollte
Noch werden sollte
Aufstrebend, auf zu neuen Grenzen
Selbstsicher, kompetent
Der Horizont ist weit
Die Welt steht dir offen
The future is bright

Werd ich wohl alleine sein
Zurück bleiben
Wies aussieht
Naja
Bald bin ich frei
Von euch, von allem

Diese dreiste Ignoranz, Rücksichtlosigkeit
Ihr raubt mir sämtliche Energie
Du bist miserabel und saugst mir das Leben aus
Wenn ich könnte
Glaub mir, ich ginge nie wieder raus
Verlass bloß nicht dein Haus

Leider hab ich Bedürfnisse
Tja
Blöd gelaufen

— The End —