"fantastically" poems
Congratulations for you, my dear nephew
as you have become today two, so very few
years still, but your future is growing now
can only tell you, you'll be greatest, don't know how
but in some way you manage your life brilliantly
I can see at your eyes, your love and life be fantastically
I'll pray and ask the Lord to bless you immensely
dear Hudson, my happiest wishes for Mum and Daddy
be happy at heart and be wise from the start
God has blessed you with brains that smart
P.F. 2 July 2014,
your auntie Sylvia
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Sickly might,
cravens and craving demon drooling bite.
That fleshly flaunt of fool and privilege,
he burned to smoldering.
Lapped his blood from crowned jewel
and corroded golden spires.
The lost cadaver,
pride driven manicured demon of self
driven greed and godly hunger.
Such as fiendish that ******
the sulfured serpent,
tis a sickened beast in dread black suit,
raffled in silken red tie
it's but the psychopath's blood smeared human hide.
Crave the flesh,
tear and splatter the soul from within,
fiends of fantastically practiced to perfect parallel smiles.
They'll slip your soul from the bars of your throat,
reap every inch of the body's hold.
Steal friendships to lips,
lives to hips,
slurp the killing,
seize the blind weeping cold.
You've got nothing not to be swept and stole.
Soulless has a studded luster,
but the ****** socio bleeds liquid sins,
bears fangs plastic wrapped in blades,
human game is the psychopath's wet dream.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:27 AM UTC
Lately I've been a little moody
I get triggered by comments made
on a video or a tweet or the supposed
leader of our nation spouting his views
on ****** assault victims....
The real victims....men and boys that
are being accused of a horrible act
Innocent yet treated like they're guilty.
Please, don't get me wrong.
Being falsely accused is terrible.
Any one guilty of it should be held liable.
But, after all of the victims, women and men alike
coming forward to tell their stories, he speaks on
behalf of the accused.....Am I stupid for being angry?
What really disappoints me are the people that get upset
when women react to such insensitive views.
They tweet or comment and I try to have conversations
with these people and end up screaming into a pillow!
I walk away wondering if it's worth my time to make
my point of view understood.
Will I ever change any ones mind?
It's the black lives matter vs all lives matter struggles
all over again!
The argument of should players stand for the anthem!
Why don't people understand that saying black lives matter
doesn't mean ONLY black lives matter, it's a way of saying
Please remember!!! Black lives matter TOO! Stop the hate!!!
People of color are being discriminated against and we are tired.
So finally a man decides to protest by calmly taking knee during the anthem aaaaannnd......here HE comes to manipulate the meaning of it all and makes it about disrespecting the flag and
our troops.
And don't even get me started on gay rights! To be treated like
second class citizens is ludicrous! How fantastically absurd to
be told by your own government that you cannot marry the
person you love! And because life has to be just a little more
unfair the LGBTQ community are at high risk for ******
assault and hate crimes too!
I realize none of this is new....I guess the Kavanaugh hearing
triggered me and I can't seem to get it off my mind. I heard
Dr. Ford's testimony and watched as so many people, including
the man himself, come with more and more ****** excuses
and a half *** investigation and in the end he sits on the supreme court any way.
I'll do my duty....I'll use my voice and vote, but I live in a red
state and I know it's an up hill battle. One that may be lost.
But I've said my piece. If you've read through it all, thank you.
If you agree with me, keep fighting. If you don't, I respect your
opinion, but I'll never understand it.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion—
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This—all this—was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more.
5k
Are you fatigued?
Do you have irritable bowel syndrome?
Are there irreconcilable differences in your life?
Are you Homophobic...
"I climb 1,576 stairs"
"But I have a lot of gay friends"
once we've reached the top,
there are no two quarters for the lens.
What's driving us, this feeling, this wander?
Could you imagine,
If kind was ****** compassion.
Could you imagine,
If kind has no reaction.
What a day, what a day, what a day, what a day;
it will be.
Like children lost in corn mazes.......
filled with glee.
Hollow are those shallow times,
don't you
forget
about me.
What a day, what a day, what a day, what a day;
it will be.
Luckily those prickly vines, are fading fantastically.
_TRF
sometimebforehalloween_
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
I haven’t caught feelings in 4 years and it’s just as terrifying as I remember it.
You drive me ******* crazy. I can’t sleep, I can’t work, I can’t focus.
But **** I don’t want to be without you. I don’t ever want to leave you.
You don’t think you’re pretty and I don’t know you any other way. You’re fantastically funny and caring. You care about me, you listen to all my crazy banter.
How did you find me? How can you call me yours so easily?
I don’t deserve that.
I’m drowning in Frank Sinatra songs and sugary coffee, I am on cloud 9 with a stomach full of knots.
I have all the confidence in the world and none at all.
I’ll write all my best music for you.
Being lovestruck is as much about being struck as it is about being in love with you.
I’m scared to be crazy about you.
I think I’m more scared of you being into the train wreck I am.
But **** it you’ve got me.
They say love hurts, but I don’t really mind right now.
It almost kills me that I gotta keep you a secret. Crushes are weird like that.
I’m stuck looking at you, not knowing what to do, but incredibly happy to be where you are.
You make me better.
Stay with me a bit longer.
I love you.
And saying that terrifies me.
But I’m willing to risk being scared for awhile.
I am so neck deep in this, I might pass out.
I love you so much, it might **** me.
I feel crazy. This might be crazy.
But you say you love me anyway.
And that’s good enough for me.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
Soup should be heralded with a mellow horn,
Blowing clear notes of gold against the stars;
Strange entrees with a jangle of glass bars
Fantastically alive with subtle scorn;
Fish, by a plopping, gurgling rush of waters,
Clear, vibrant waters, beautifully austere;
Roast, with a thunder of drums to stun the ear,
A screaming fife, a voice from ancient slaughters!
Over the salad let the woodwinds moan;
Then the green silence of many watercresses;
Dessert, a balalaika, strummed alone;
Coffee, a slow, low singing no passion stresses;
Such are my thoughts as -- clang! crash! bang! -- I brood
And gorge the sticky mess these fools call food!
2.3k
Mood stabilizers, they call them, but in some ways, they're more like painkillers for your heart. They numb the feelings so that you don't have the extreme moods you are accustomed to.
When you have a mood disorder, everything you feel is so much more intense, and so much more certainly snowballs out of control. That's most of the problem; the complete lack of control you have over your chaotic emotions.
But then you go to a doctor, and they give you happy little pills called stabilizers to do just as they're told to. Stabilize you. Normalize you.
Funny thing is, even with the little heart painkillers, you'll never be normal. Even if you keep up a fantastically ordinary facade, you will never be ordinary. You will always have those little pills in your pocket telling you that you are not good enough the way you are, that you must change.
Its a double-edged sword, these pills. Because some days you wonder why you can't just be you, why do you need these drugs in your veins, but then you remember the cuts on your arms and the painful nights where you drowned in your own tears and you remember why even you don't think the person you are is acceptable. Get better, Grace, be better, Grace. The words pound in your ears until you forget who you used to be and you are always striving to be something more, something better. You strive until it kills you.
You are stronger, you can beat it, they say.
What if I don't want to beat it, though, just want to have control of it? I never want to feel less than everything, I never want to feel so dull and numb that it kills me more than the pain ever did, I never want to beat myself, I simply want to be me but controllable.
Because right now I'm uncontrollable and that's terrifying.
Painkillers for your heart, numbing you until you can't feel anymore. But sometimes I wonder if I really want to feel numb.
Do I want to be me, or who everyone wants me to be?
One is safer than the other, but which one is really living?
Because all I want is to feel alive, but I don't know whether surviving will entail that.
Painkillers or killer pain.
That is my decision, one I'm not ready to make. Maybe tomorrow, when mania is not so close to my throat.
Maybe tomorrow, because I am far too afraid of today.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
no matter how far I've come
how much I've been doing better
I always return and succumb
to this deep and chronic fetter
the darkness slowly creeps back in
too tired, to scared, to restless
maggots wriggling under my skin
psyche becoming monstrous
I know the feeling all too well
like an old friend I can't let go
encasing me in a protective shell
personally fitted not to show
I find I've changed drastically
yet still not much at all
just a child dreaming fantastically
a forest fairy in the fall
the more I learn to love myself
the less I'm fond of others
a dress up doll atop a shelf
with poor emotional buffers
I wonder what it's like to live
as oblivious as you are
what it feels like not to give
your years to itchy scars
Nov 2, 2022
Nov 2, 2022 at 2:24 AM UTC
she won't say a single accursed word to me, those angelic lips won't even curse me out. I think I'm upset but ?? it doesn't really matter. I've still got her black lace ******* hidden away in my second place in the 800 meter relay trophy: metaprize. they still smell like she tasted; I still know that she was fantastically insecure about her gorgeous ***** so much that she spent the majority of her summer researching labioplasty under the guise of a newfound interest in cosmetic surgery: her parents would never understand. I still know she takes deserved pride in how her deltoids flex beautifully in her mirrored closet doors with her hands on a boy's chest, not mine any longer but that's okay, as she rides him not like a cowgirl but like a demanding coach, like a kid freed from training wheels, like the Hell's Angel of epifemme *** I still know she's the best thing that ever happened to me and I still know that I ****** it up. I still know I loved her and I still know I love her. I still know.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
I don't want
To break with you.
Can't we still be babies
In a tub,
Tattling to our mums;
Watching our worlds end,
And still falling asleep as friends?
I want to still be
The angle-face good one,
To your fantastically beautiful spiky one,
But you see, with age,
Comes bitchiness and a sense of
Self respect.
I never had that before
Around you.
Oh, I was your good little dolly,
Darling of your heart
But you like to beat that muscle well,
Don't you?
Much harder than necessary.
So why then
Do you think that
This constriction and skipping of a beating
Was a surprise attack of the heart?
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Knowing you is serendipity
I knew deep inside I couldn't get enough of your beauty
the effort and courage it took you to willingly
to say "hey" to me
got me smiling so happily
stomach starts to get giddy
always making my mood fantastically
you have this sort of ability
to get me believing to the positivity
instead of the negativity
and I've got to admit
that you're sometimes very witty
there's something about you
that brings out my curiosity
for once I actually like living in reality
because you're not like the others
you have morality
and doesn't treat people poorly
really digging your mentality
for ever since
I've learned to keep my sanity
and been treating myself more equally
because you showed me of how chivalry
still exists
so I'm amazingly
grateful for meeting you, my greatest serendipity
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
inside is fantastically
amazing
beyond poetry
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
The notes began to float like bubbles through the air
And I, in unprecedented wisdom, made no move
To catch them as they wound about my hair.
Excitement flowed through my feet climbing the airport stair,
Which the fresh pine and salt scents did nothing to soothe,
Nor abandoned me with a ridiculous ferry fare.
Poetry invaded the streets with contentment so bald-faced and bare;
In the hills I found my name in their Louvre.
Here, no aggression exists, only dare.
Fresh fruit, fresh fish, fresh dreams, and fresh care
Are piled high upon crates with nothing to prove
But being luminous and righteous and rare.
But wafting by richly, us mortals to ensnare,
Is a dark roasted legend, fantastically smooth,
Like the reiteration of every writer’s prayer.
It promises faithfulness and none of the despair
For which we yet remain desperate in this creative youth
That propels our souls forward until the final swear.
They say the climate’s bite is lucky, that it will take us there
And for now I’m emboldened, my old self removed.
So I guess it’s what they call a rather tricky affair,
Because on my face this place I will always wear.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:41 PM UTC
Upon the announcement of my arrival
my ancestors weaved brillant threads to make a quilt for my bed
with steadfast hands, they weaved themselves a plan
who i was to become, what kind of man
upon the days of my arrival
my ancestors fantastically wrapped me up in the quilt of blue and red
this quilt housed me for many seasons
itched me, pinched me, left me cold at night
bit me, tripped me, straggling my rights
the brillant quilt made to protect became my golden cage instead
their plan created my strife
their plan corseted my life
after years spent suffocating in the threads
i decided to break away from the plan
emerging like a little chick out of an egg
i chose to live my life today
still the foundation laid was unscathed
every trigger sent my heart into disarray
independence fortified, return to the egg
the quilt might be itchy, it might be tight
but it is easier than learning how to fly
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 1:55 PM UTC
I'm going to fly away
I've strung two diamond kites to my back as wings
And I've tracked down the winding river-like patterns of the wind
I'm going to fly away
Because my kites will have no trouble
Picking up my hollow body, empty of life and experience and substance and
everything that defines what it means to be alive, up into the sky.
I'm going to glide on the air
and slowly make a parabola as I slide down the air current like
I'm on a water slide and then curve upwards
as if I'm a rocketeer testing out the power of my engine.
I'm going to glide on the air
because my feet are too tired of carrying the weight on my shoulders.
I want to feel the weightlessness that has encompassed my heart
every time it got its hopes up and every time it was broken.
The weightlessness that my empty lungs felt as
I lurched for oxygen in the smoky air
The weightlessness that my arms felt hugging
every one of imaginary friends that never felt real enough to believe in.
I want to feel the same physical weightlessness,
yet know it carries a much different meaning than all the others,
The one you feel when things are just where you want them to be,
The small floating instant in the transition from your upward velocity running out and
your momentum building as you are suddenly falling down.
The weightlessness of balance that I have only felt in the wrong ways.
I'm going to fly away
Because as a teenager I specialize in the concept of hating
every human being out there including myself.
and yet I'm dressed in all white save for the vibrant color of my kites
because I'd rather the world paint me into what it really is instead of me
painting the world into my skewed perceptions.
I'm going to fly away
and fly so far away and for so long
that my skin will turn the color of the sky
my kites will become a part of my body
my eyes will turn into every color humankind has failed to see
and I will feel alive,
my body full of the mass of life
that has replaced the weight on my shoulders
Which tried to hold me down to walk the concrete ground,
face the gray brick walls, and breathe the misused air
I'm going to fly away,
So I will learn to catch my breath the same way a landscape will take it away,
So I will hear the raw wavelengths of our earth,
So I will reach back to the trees reaching up to me from the ground
So I will feel the air currents take me along its route to nowhere in particular,
So I will live in fantastically unimaginable ways
So that when I land again,
I will be full of weight I don't mind carrying on my shoulders.
Yes,I'm going to fly away.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
how shall be written
to be done
with an immaculate
percission
percussion
personae
your soul is frequent
gaze at night, at stars to moon
my main
mystique
morph
there is silent
self observer
doing everything
while just
breathing
there are
still
pure
flowing
fantastically
fullfiling
channels
of fresh air
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
I have all this chaotic energy seething through my body with last nights creations and today's destroyers. It's so intense I don't even know where to direct it most of the time so I swallow that salty oyster.
It dances heavily on my squishy innards, with high heel slippers, they even had heels for beginners.
My guts churn and reluctantly become tangled. Holes and tears for this glitter girl perfectly mangled.
Ohhh this energy is fantastically painful. It's so mad my heart wants to burst and my love seeks to strangle. I love life, especially from this energetic, chaotic, messy kinda angle.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC
A cocoon of silk wraps the final breath of day
When feelings stir fantastically
Touching my dreams in mighty ways
Then softly clothing me
Deep flutters celebrate within the trees
Believing, blessings will abound
Wishing they could only feel like me
In this silken wrap, I have found
My spirit calls unto wings I once sealed away
In walls filled with ancient granite dust
When I myself, did betray
To walk upon this earthen crust
How close I view those clouds from here
Where I once flew so free
Above these trees that deeply flutter near
And this world that now holds me
The final breath of night will soon arrive
My cocoon of silk will float away
Shall I return to where I once derived
Or myself again betray
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 5:35 PM UTC
i. a summer day, sticky hot, i can feel the sweat running down my back. the sun shines without mercy. an ice cream cone sits in my hand as i wonder who will come to end my bitter loneliness.
ii. the boy reeks of summer, his smile radiating from his mouth just as the sun radiates heat. he doesn’t eat ice cream, he says, something about being lactose intolerant? i can’t focus on anything but his sparkling hazel eyes.
iii. it’s still warm but not uncomfortably so. we’re seated on the green grass. it’s evening and the sun has begin to sink beneath the horizon. purple and rose hues take over the blue of the sky as we watch in awe. i don’t know what happens but suddenly our eyes are off the sky and on each other. his lips taste like a cherry popsicle.
iv. we have late nights every day watching the stars. each star makes me wonder, in a world as fantastically cosmic as ours, how did i have the fortune to meet you? i wonder if you are thinking the same thing. every day the same thing happens and every day i don’t know what led to it but now our eyes and sticky hands and sweet lips are on each other and now it is the stars’ turn to watch us.
v. he loves ice cream but it isn’t good for him.
vi. every time i eat a cherry popsicle i think of the boy with the hazel eyes.
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 4:28 PM UTC
Fantastically fashioned fingers,
running smoothly through hair;
past present post-
Father Time struck by Sand Man's stare.
Heavenly hanging hair,
draping gently over lips;
tantalizing teasing tendrils-
Aphrodite's mien, Venus' hips.
Lusciously loving lips,
smiling softly at wandering eyes;
delirious delighted daze-
Pyramus and Thisbe's kiss--butterflies.
Efficaciously effervescent...
enchantingly endearing...
enticingly euphoric...
exultantly excited...
[Simply] ethereal! Eyes,
diamonds, starlight, life, of Earth, sky, and sea;
bejeweled boundless bless'ed-
If thou were Medusa, stone I'd be so readily.
Simply said Shakespeare,
thou art the sun;
falsely framed fairness-
for the sun is not brightest,
tis You tis You,
my wonderful, beautiful One.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Appreciation amid glorious people
They sound speak resound
Fantastically
Ah and we are just as they say
In the grand sphere
Of poetic masterpieces just
Amateurs
When if you read much
Feel
HP poets are masterpieces
Writhing psalms odes
Songs and heartfelt
Artworks daily
As poets are defined by effort
Heart and good designs
I know no place
Other where all these
Parts exist in better people.
I am often lack in
Saying or plussing or recognizing
This very fact.
HP poets are the best.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Time stood still that day, for me it never really caught back up again . I can still see that black smudge mark on the pristine white wall, it was what I focused on thoughout the pain,
You entered my world and within seconds you left again, I'll never forget that eerie silence,with just the ticking of the clock to be heard, and the nurse's face, how quickly the colour drained.
I knew at that moment but I still waited, hoping to hear the cry that never happened.Now I'm left with an emptiness no one can fill, The worst thing was the waiting, hearing cries from all other room except this one... but wait there were cries here, mine.
How can they tell me to move on?
How can they make out you never exsisted?
I still have the swollen ******* that have harden where you're not there to suckle the milk from them, I still see mum's with their newborns in the street, yet I come home and your room is empty where they packed your things away and repainted it a dull yellow.
I want to scream, but I don't, I just give a small smile, what's the point of saying anything they think I need help anyway.
You were a part of me, everytime you moved I felt it, I knew when you had hiccups cause it felt like a bouncing ball in my stomach,and at night you reminded me you were still there with your kicks to my ribs I'd already fallen in love with you, maybe that's why time can't move on, for I pray to go back to the seconds before that final push, when you and I were still connected, maybe than I could change the outcome, but that's not going to happen is it?
What I can't understand is why, why let the whole nine months go by so fantastically, I was glowing now my world is dark, just darkness with no light at the end of the tunnel.
I pray you saw that light and it took you to that better place, where one day we'll meet again. Until that day my life will be stuck reliving those seconds you were still there inside of me, I'll still feel your heart beating next to mine, and you will not have died.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
I created a couple on Sims, once.
They were so fantastically in love.
Together they made Gabby,
And a roughling, named Danny.
And, they all lived together,
In Flat 1.
One day, the dad dropped the kids at school,
And, off he went, to work.
I let Taylar, the mum, cheat,
With a stud, on repeat.
Now, I’m just waiting,
‘Cause I know what will come.
Gordy, the dad, who’s still in the dark,
Went to meditate in the park,
There, he saw Taylar,
With Benny, the sailor.
Cue, the planned brawl,
In the street.
Gordy, the dad,
When it was done, had won.
Taylar, crawled back, so sweetly.
But Gordy’s no fool,
He said they were through,
And, sat her junk out on the street.
Taylar the *****
Went down to the bank,
To clear out Gordy’s account.
But, smart Gordy had listened,
And, cleared out his pension -
Knocked Taylar right off her feet.
So, now, Taylar’s reflecting,
And Gordy’s out flexing,
His muscles he found,
In pastime.
Gabby, so sweet, has started to teach,
While, Danny leads group rock climbs.
Soon enough -
Mum’ll find a new beau,
Dad - a darling, in tow.
Everyone broken -
Now mended.
They all will be fine,
Everything works, in due time,
By the point, at which the story has ended.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
When I was 11 or so
my friend who was fat and I
would feed meat to dogs behind gates.
They would look at us
so hungry
inside their grey gardens
dangerous and solemn
and I would look at them
so angry
so livid
so fantastically superior
and we would reach a mutual understanding:
that man's best friend is power.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 2:52 PM UTC