"exqusite" poems - Hello Poetry

Minuit à Paris oui, oui Missour, excusez-moi s'il vous plaît, peux je prendre vos sacs, être bienvenu au Ritz Je suis plus sûr, vous apprécierez votre séjour Paris est le plus heureux, vous voir M. Fitz Paris au printemps est une si jolie vue les fleurs tous dans l'éclat, l'horizon la nuit le soleil brillant shinning maintenant, peut-être une ****** d'après-midi planifiez votre jour bien avant vous le trajet en haut dans la tour le fait de promener devant le cathederal de Dame Notre le fait de penser au carillonneur le vieux bossu comme la liberté de Philadelphie, la cloche a un craquement le fait de prendre d'assaut du Bastille, pour soulager la honte au Louvre pour la plupart d'art exqusite Rembrandt et DaVinci à leur meilleur tant de choses à voir c'est juste le début voir tout cela serait une quête fantastique le temps pour un trajet en bas le fleuve de Seine les vues étonnantes cette vieille ville peuvent livrer une bouteille de Vouvray agréable pour améliorer le trajet une jolie femme locale directement par votre côté maintenant vous pourriez lui demander si elle aime danser car les clubs dans Paree sont oh si parfaits le club la Plage aussi un grand endroit pour dîner un temps magnifique, le Minuit à Paris, France Gomer LePoet

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Sep 1, 2011

Sep 1, 2011 at 2:30 PM UTC

david-nelson

Midnite in Paris - in French Minuit à Paris

Minuit à Paris oui, oui Missour, excusez-moi s'il vous plaît, peux je prendre vos sacs, être bienvenu au Ritz Je suis plus sûr, vous apprécierez votre séjour Paris est le plus heureux, vous voir M. Fitz Paris au printemps est une si jolie vue les fleurs tous dans l'éclat, l'horizon la nuit le soleil brillant shinning maintenant, peut-être une ****** d'après-midi planifiez votre jour bien avant vous le trajet en haut dans la tour le fait de promener devant le cathederal de Dame Notre le fait de penser au carillonneur le vieux bossu comme la liberté de Philadelphie, la cloche a un craquement le fait de prendre d'assaut du Bastille, pour soulager la honte au Louvre pour la plupart d'art exqusite Rembrandt et DaVinci à leur meilleur tant de choses à voir c'est juste le début voir tout cela serait une quête fantastique le temps pour un trajet en bas le fleuve de Seine les vues étonnantes cette vieille ville peuvent livrer une bouteille de Vouvray agréable pour améliorer le trajet une jolie femme locale directement par votre côté maintenant vous pourriez lui demander si elle aime danser car les clubs dans Paree sont oh si parfaits le club la Plage aussi un grand endroit pour dîner un temps magnifique, le Minuit à Paris, France Gomer LePoet

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Oh what is it inside russsian, thy tendenes i love u . An exqusite taste better than chicken sausages you are best cooked by a motswana rib i love the taste we give to all humans in sync,we can go all over the wold todae Ooooo u drive me crazy and turn me on ,u make me so high tht i could even tAlk to the rain oh eish i will contiune nxt time

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Oct 28, 2014

Oct 28, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC

billyq

Russian

Oh what is it inside russsian, thy tendenes i love u . An exqusite taste better than chicken sausages you are best cooked by a motswana rib i love the taste we give to all humans in sync,we can go all over the wold todae Ooooo u drive me crazy and turn me on ,u make me so high tht i could even tAlk to the rain oh eish i will contiune nxt time

6

Hardwood floor pushes pressure points into the meat hanging off the bones of ribs and hips Lifelessly staring over head, the false elagant propeller twirls Attempting to make this over priced shoebox seem exqusite Tassles on a silicone breast, spinning as the cockroaches crawl up my back Gag on this sick joke, you gladly will Is this the pipe dream, perfumed reality masking societies sweat All that the populous aims for? A self depreciating laugh I Raw eardrums are about to burst Tearing into nothing, twisted words set off burning fireworks Death rage fights, moronic blame, victims in our own heads only we're right Neither could we ever be wrong, just wronged we make ourselves the prey Fire in the vains over wet brained illusions, stories made up on the spot Enshrining the chip on that shoulder I Hate City teeth a chalk smile, missing a canine seems all more harmlessly passive, the defanged vampire The beast lays in wait licking it's chops thirsty for all it can take Bare your thoat be the willing meal Let it **** you dry, why not? I Hate This Fret and flutter running loose on a lost dime Calm, cool, collected, yeah right Lies, storming rage under too thin skin till it bursts at the seams Lava pouring till everything's gone "Life's what you make it" Spoon fed hogwash to make us feel it's our fault where we end up Dreams held in front of our faces Treats on a stick, can't reach it but it keeps you going Till legs break, lungs cave, and your will is snuffed gone to the gutter. I hate this **** I think bugs are creeping around in my pores, in the stitching of my clothing, each individual focal of hair, running rampage in the creases of my frontal lobe. **** I Hate This ****

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Mar 30, 2017

Mar 30, 2017 at 2:51 AM UTC

felix-sladal

Loath For The Soul *******

Hardwood floor pushes pressure points into the meat hanging off the bones of ribs and hips Lifelessly staring over head, the false elagant propeller twirls Attempting to make this over priced shoebox seem exqusite Tassles on a silicone breast, spinning as the cockroaches crawl up my back Gag on this sick joke, you gladly will Is this the pipe dream, perfumed reality masking societies sweat All that the populous aims for? A self depreciating laugh I Raw eardrums are about to burst Tearing into nothing, twisted words set off burning fireworks Death rage fights, moronic blame, victims in our own heads only we're right Neither could we ever be wrong, just wronged we make ourselves the prey Fire in the vains over wet brained illusions, stories made up on the spot Enshrining the chip on that shoulder I Hate City teeth a chalk smile, missing a canine seems all more harmlessly passive, the defanged vampire The beast lays in wait licking it's chops thirsty for all it can take Bare your thoat be the willing meal Let it **** you dry, why not? I Hate This Fret and flutter running loose on a lost dime Calm, cool, collected, yeah right Lies, storming rage under too thin skin till it bursts at the seams Lava pouring till everything's gone "Life's what you make it" Spoon fed hogwash to make us feel it's our fault where we end up Dreams held in front of our faces Treats on a stick, can't reach it but it keeps you going Till legs break, lungs cave, and your will is snuffed gone to the gutter. I hate this **** I think bugs are creeping around in my pores, in the stitching of my clothing, each individual focal of hair, running rampage in the creases of my frontal lobe. **** I Hate This ****

33

"You make me forget all the bad things" I'm really glad. I wish I could say the same. You make the bad bearable. It's incredible. I can't tell you how incredible. Just like I can't fully explain this sickness. It's physical pain that pulls my mind from the bliss of you To the darker realms This multiplying cocophony of symptoms United to produce A mystery illness Undiagnosable - So far. It's pain, discomfort, sorrow, and a slow ebbing of hope - But you, arms shielding me from the world You, eyes warm and deep with concern You, somehow with the right words, When I didn't believe there were any, You, simply listening, You give me hope. To be alone now could be unbearable That spark becomes inconceivable. You just keep me hanging on And that's more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you Is not adequate For the time and energy you have wasted Cuddling my tears dry Loving me as the worst of it fades Til life is a bowl of oranges once more A still life posed A fraction of experience A page of exqusite poetry Til life is colour and meaning And depth Til life is more than just pain splattered red across a page.

0

Nov 16, 2014

Nov 16, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC

TuesdayPixie

Bowl of Oranges

"You make me forget all the bad things" I'm really glad. I wish I could say the same. You make the bad bearable. It's incredible. I can't tell you how incredible. Just like I can't fully explain this sickness. It's physical pain that pulls my mind from the bliss of you To the darker realms This multiplying cocophony of symptoms United to produce A mystery illness Undiagnosable - So far. It's pain, discomfort, sorrow, and a slow ebbing of hope - But you, arms shielding me from the world You, eyes warm and deep with concern You, somehow with the right words, When I didn't believe there were any, You, simply listening, You give me hope. To be alone now could be unbearable That spark becomes inconceivable. You just keep me hanging on And that's more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you Is not adequate For the time and energy you have wasted Cuddling my tears dry Loving me as the worst of it fades Til life is a bowl of oranges once more A still life posed A fraction of experience A page of exqusite poetry Til life is colour and meaning And depth Til life is more than just pain splattered red across a page.

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