"finder" poems
A doer not a talker,
A finder's keepers,
not a stalker,
first he is A Man,
gentle in his MANnerisms,
but not the knuckles or
his calloused hands.
He does not stand out
in his field, he is too busy
working to increase the yield,
not make best use of fifteen
minutes, OF Few men can
this be said, his hat still fits
his crew cut hairy head.
when he opens his mouth
to speak, his thoughts take
shape and become Words,
not charged with emotion,
not angered or raging,
not with some rite of self-
righteous indignation.
He speaks his peace,
and sits his *** on the
nearest thing he can find,
he has a sound body and
a sound mind, when she
decides and marries him she
will find, treasure. Rare.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
The witch finder general he came to seek them out.
His mistake when innocent witches.
The innocent ones his soul did take.
Dunked Nanna in the ducking pool.
Dragged aunt to Manning Tree.
Wanted to started a mega pyre for the likes of thee and me.
In archaic land of treachery in the land of treason.
Sweet virgins crucified with no justified reason.
Mother turned the milk sour.
Daddy was a warlock.
Brother was magic man.
Kept his grimoire by his bed.
Family of innocence.
Witches innocent,
Spitting fire now deceased after the flames.
Wanted the witch finder's mortal remains.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
Fury sets in.
Daggers sharpened.
Circles surrounds.
Pounding hearts fail.
Subliminal trips.
Scarred memories.
Twisted my soul.
Sinister evil.
Insidious triggers.
Sights are clean.
Minds ruined.
Lost runaway.
Blind alley.
Point of no return.
I see a cruel world through my view finder!!
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Even lions have the strongest hearts
But they still fall weak to lionesses,
A man’s heart can tighten in all parts
It only takes a ´touch´ to bring him to pieces
When a man falls weak to his world
A part of him has leaped over a wall
The tricky phase is to retrieve his part
Searching the world with an incomplete heart,
The finder of his heart is always his near-God
But finders only leave men in a melting ***
Men are known to be tearless
They don’t cry and in pain they remain fearless,
Men are fragile and sensitive
Listen to him and see the world in his perspective,
Men will live on ‘til the last survivor
Because men are forever…
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
As I finish the book,
The guy in the corner says,
Are you a feminist for real or are you the extreme feminist just like they say?
Trouble,
Tugging,
Tension,
Haven't you ever heard these words my way ?
They spill out my pockets as I find a safe route to home today.
I,
I'm a person, I live to see my kids everyday,
I drive my car with the colt in the back to make sure I reach home today.
I,
I'm a fire, I'm a story to be told,
Yet I lock upon your entrance because for you I'm a singular sight to behold.
You,
You Animal,
You Unchastised Beast.
Struggle,
Strive,
Strenuous,
Strength,
Is the only way I fight your ***** hands off my naked body piece.
I,
I human,
I wrong,
I be the woman that calls hell upon.
You,
You be man,
You be government,
You be aid,
You filthy human being,
But I'm the one to blame.
You,
You liar,
You sniveling little rat,
I,
I innocent,
I sorry,
I right,
Yet I hide like a wet cat.
Naked,
Nauseous,
Nightmare,
The words I have befriended in the absence of the lord.
I,
I hungry,
I scared,
I lost,
I join my hands in agony and frustration for the only consented hand upon me is that of the god.
His,
His mother,
His sister,
His friend,
Be nothing to you,
You tear her body with your claws, your vein's pulsing with *****
You,
You drunk,
You wrong,
You animalistic,
Yet as you slide down my skinny jeans, in tonight's bet I'm the innocent one to lose.
I walk upon the sidewalk and all I hear you say,
You ****
You *****
You ***** from across the shore,
Why don't you slide that hoody up above your shoulders and show me some breast?
You look at me like I'm a chicken piece,
You drool and spank as I pass by
And look at me like I'm the one who suggest.
You,
You father,
You teacher,
You preacher,
You barman,
You taxi man,
You footballer,
You man.
I,
I wreck,
I cavity,
I ****
I **********
I slam piece,
I brothel but no church,
I woman and I naked.
So as I walk up home wearing those tiny shorts,
You pick me up in those black tinted window cars,
I scream,
I yell,
I beg,
I plead.
You shove it down my throat.
You tear my humanity,
You make me bleed.
You,
You stupid,
You arrogant,
You ignorant,
You fool.
You don't know my power for I'm the Gaya to your tomb.
You miscreant,
You rogue,
You bleeding stinking wretch.
You see that halo around me,
I'm your mother,
Your daughter,
Your sister,
Your wife,
Your god.
And every time you look at me with those ugly eyes,
I want you to see my halo glow.
As I picked up my book from the table,
A feminist, A masculinist,
A equality finder,
A woman,
A girl,
I find a name to pick and say,
And I look at your rustic self and I say
'You Don't Even Deserve To Know'
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
Vi lovede hinanden hele den store verden dengang
Tiderne var anderledes, klokken var 22 når den var 17.
Vi havde stjerneregn af kæmpemæssige følelser
Som vi åd af hinanden, slikkede og fik kuldegysninger.
Lange aftener, som fik det hele til at vare dobbelt kort.
Jeg er ikke engang sikker på at jeg savner det
Eller dig. Eller noget af det vi gjorde sammen
Men en del har bidt sig fast. Jeg er blevet ramt
Af en virus. En fejl i mit liv, som du har plantet
I mig og min indre globe og færden, når jeg søger
Efter ting, som jeg umuligt kan få, finde eller fjerne
Jeg er syg, og mit immunforsvar svækkes, men
Jeg går i skole. Jeg lever mit liv videre, med
Tanken om at jeg ikke ved hvornår det stopper
Jeg vil lukke følelsen af dig/det/os ud af mig selv
Du styrer alt det du ikke må og du får alt så let
Så jeg lever livet videre, jeg lærer at ignorere det mave
Sår du har plantet i mig. Jeg sover det væk.
Drømmer mig væk fra realiternes smerter. For jeg kan
Ikke klare det hele. Jeg ser ikke klart. Jeg mærker ikke
Det lys som alle siger kommer, og når de andre fortæller
Mig at det hele er hurtigt glemt. Tvivler jeg på mig selv og
På mine følelser. For jeg har ingen følelser, ingen tanker
Ingenting. Jeg har ikke noget og jeg er fortabt. For alt hvad
Jeg vil have og eje er fysisk kontakt med dig. Jeg vil se på
Dig se på mig. Jeg vil have at du fortæller mig at jeg er smuk
Og så er det det, efter vi har kysset. Så er det det. For man skal
Ikke sådan noget. For det spil vi spiller er farligt. Med et hug
Bliver man slået hjem. Hvis ikke man lander på stjernen eller
På verdenstegnet. Så er det hjem, uden noget som helst.
Vi er en tikkende bombe. For hvor mange sekunder går der
IKKE før du egentlig finder ud af hvem jeg er, vi er, du er.
Til du finder ud af at du er bedre. Jeg kan ikke. Jeg tænker
Jeg kan. Men det hele er forkert. Jeg er kommet til at bruge alt
For mange kræfter på ting man kan få kræft af. Jeg er styret af den
Kraft du har. Jeg bliver ved med at bryde mig selv ned, selvom de
Andre nogle gange prøver at få mig op og stå igen. Det (s)eneste
Som jeg ikke har, er alt det jeg ikke kan få. Og jeg ved ikke
Engang hvad det er, eller om jeg er sikker på at jeg ved det på
Et tidspunkt. Jeg løber en tur væk fra mig selv. Jeg prøver
At eskapere fra verden. Jeg er flygtning fra mig selv.
Så kom her. Læg dig sammen med mig. Lad os lytte til din stemme
Bare et par mange gange, så jeg kan høre på alle de kloge ting
Du gør og siger. Ligesom den gang jeg gjorde det før.
Dengang det hele var godt.
Da vi to ejede verden, og hinanden. Men det gjorde vi ikke.
For du er helt ny, opstået så pludseligt, men sådan er det bare.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
I stole myself a keepsake for remembrance of my father,
a bracelet made by he that lasted 3 years, no longer
I picked me out a souvenir in summertime Muskogee
but now they sit so rusted and do of nothing to me
I hang old captured memories, tacked into my right wall
but they still just stand, a memory, that's all their worth in all
I will need no souvenir to remember you
I will need no keepsake hung up with a sticky glue
I will have your hand to hold, forever and again
If I need reminder, I just gaze up past your chin
Even all the words I wrote, someday will be just that
They may still hold a meaning, but I can never bring it back
The pearls pierced through my ears handed down from generation,
even they are getting old throughout this newer nation
Stories ended with their what if's and could have's
are too far passed now, just sit for some good laughs
I will need no souvenir to remember you
I will need no keepsake hung up with a sticky glue
I will have your hand to hold, forever and again
If I need reminder, I just gaze up past your chin
Why do we need bibles and these holy books to say
something once was, and I think again one day
I only can remember that one time I landed hospitalized
because the get well notes be still on my shelf advised
I used to keep a diary when I was just young,
to write down all I saw until it wasn't all fun
I will need no souvenir to remember you
I will need no keepsake hung up with a sticky glue
I will have your hand to hold, forever and again
If I need reminder, I just gaze up past your chin
For you are my souvenir
living life with both so near
Your hand is just a reminder
of the time that we have spent, in you, the meaning finder
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
I was once accused of being the devil under a darkened moon on a foggy night
Now, I've met the devil and let me tell you
The devil once beat me with a curtain rack over my back until I bled
Only to pretend it was in the sport of the game
I've met the devil
In fact, the devil used to show my mom love from the end of a fist and in the sunrise after a long night of crying
Would convince her it was in the name of his love for her
I've befriended the devil
The Devil once taught me how to pick locks and marks minding their own business
And to prey on these people, nay,
Opportunities
Like my life depended on it
I've lived with the devil
The devil kept once locked me in a house-shaped-prison before flinging me into the world unprepared, and dazed
Only to blame me for not watching the outside close enough from my foggy window
I've loved the devil
And eagerly, I gutted myself in the devil's name each time she asked me to see my still beating heart
Only to be confused as to why she hated the mess that followed my orders
I've sacrificed to the devil
I've taken my own heart and soul, and impaled them on a blade made of pure jaded spite, only to lay them with all the other hearts I've stolen and pierced
Unknowingly, yet undoubtedly maliciously.
I've kissed the devil
And in that deal I sealed my fate a lifetime of servitude to a soul I helped created
And created a bond with the devil that was forbidden for good reason
I've lied to the devil
Only to have my mistakes return and slash me across the face like the blade that is the sun's beams shedding light on a long night of forgetting problems
No matter how justifiable he claimed I was
I've seen the devil
He watched me from the bottom of an orange tube only to switch his view finder to something he could swim in
And once more, even now,
As it dances on the end of my blunts
I've met the devil
And I've met the devil many times throughout my lifetime
I've met the devil enough times to identify it by smell, or hearing
Despite it coming with a new assortment of blends, a new chirp every time it appears, and a new look complete with me words
**** at one point, it was me
But I know this Now:
I am not (currently),
Nor will I be ever again,
The Devil.
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 1:11 AM UTC
Born half a frog
Born half an eagle
It's finder was so creative
In naming him frog-eagle
He soared up and down the mighty sky
Loudly Ribbiting at the same time
The Wind rushed through
his feathery head
As he Landed in the pond
to go to bed
And people came from far and wide
With laughs and wonder all supplied
While the frog-eagle
continued on With his life
soon he found a fish-bat wife
They moved into a pond and had a strange thing of a baby
a frog-eagle-bat-fish who they christened Katie
Who didn't give a hoot about the laughs that she got
For looking a tad like an apricot
She even made it
onto the front cover
Of a nature magazine
all thanks to her mother
And soon she had a medley of children of her own
While the frog-eagle laughed as they talked on the phone
'Tell me' he asked to his only offspring
'Have you ever had much trouble fitting in?'
She laughed and replied
'Of course I have dad
But I'm different, I'm unique and boy am I glad!'
The frog-eagle smiled and put down the receiver
As he stared into the eyes of grandson
The frog-eagle-fish-bat-cat-dog-sabourtoothed ******
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Sappho of the South
Sweetest lips upon my mouth
From Tomboy Casanova
To Soft Butch Jehovah
Stone Top, Touch-Me-Not
To chapstick and Birkenstocks
She’s my Strapping Queen
The only flicker of my bean
Oh, Lavender Menace
I’m on my knees in minutes
Stud-finder
Cunt-diver
Love-guider
Me-inside-her
Lover’s lips upon my mouth
Lovely Sappho of the South
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
[Verse 1: MGK]
This ain't no halo over my head *****
But dear God can you forgive the sinnin'
For everything that I did since the beginnin'
Because the devil around me so much
That you would think I got a death wish
Yeah, and the voices in my head get louder
Watchin' my career disappear like powder
Wish I could rewind those hours and get my life back
Strike that, hanging on this **** like a life jacket
**** rappin', I was really livin' everything I was spittin'
***** what's happenin'
Fights daily, nights crazy dream chasin' till the drugs came
I was choppin' up them ******* like Jason
Had a ************* face layin' on the cold pavement
Wake up take 'em now I feel sane
Spendin' every penny in the studio slayin'
Me and my mob workin' any odd job
Prayin' this little dream was gonna feed our babies
Save me Lord, save me Lord, what the **** is this curse you gave me Lord
Everybody think I finally made it Lord, but all I am is now is a slave my God
[Hook:]
This ain't no halo...
Revelations says if people wipe every tear from their eyes than death shall be no more, neither shall their be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore for the former things have passed away, EST 4 Life ************
[Verse 2: MGK]
Put that halo around my neck, *****
And give me death
I'm 22 and this 22 on my left, God bless
Maybe I'll finally see
Maybe they'll return what's originally mine because finder's keep
Maybe I will be great, and this voice of mine was designed to be the finest key
But, I'm losing faith, everyday they got news to break
Like my single flopped, and now I ain't hot
And they don't know if I'm ever gonna see the light of day
My labels mad or my albums bad or you ain't livin' up to the hype we thought you had
Or I lost a fan or I'm in cuffs again and meanwhile I ain't there to be my daughters dad
**** what's left for me? because I don't ever want to become a celebrity
I don't want anyone to feel less than me so put your camera down and stand next to me
Right here, EST, everyone stand together
And if I ever RIP than I know everything I stand for's forever, lace up!
[Hook:]
This ain't no halo...
And when you play this song, hold your head high, ************ don't ever look down, be comfortable with who you are, our flaws are what makes us perfect
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
Colorful colors, colors everywhere.
Afar, maybe near, or just someplace over there.
Colors in quantities,
A copious amount.
Too many colors to keep any count.
Metaphorical colors aren't physically there,
But a good color-finder can sense them in the air.
True colors like to a person describe;
Who's what in what way- the how and the why.
In a colorful world, we all live and stay.
In colorful beds, at night we all lay.
With colors, there's always a great source for play.
Colors make life worth living each day.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
Just hanging around stuck in the background where Echo and the Bunnymen sing sad songs,they're not funny men and I'm not one too.
Going to take my Queen and fulfill a dream,dine in style at Mile End,wend my way down to Nandos,pay for chicken,sticking less to the plan because I'm only a man I travel to Hackney where the wild men of Shoreditch come out to attack me with rolled up newspapers,their capers amuse me until I blink twice, and I see, that my Queens seen it all and goes off in a huff,
Puffs of smoke are no joke when you're born as a bloke because the magic don't last,blast it nearly passed it,the turn off for middle age,junction twenty six on the revolving glass mirrored stage,but I made it and now I'm back in the sun waiting for my Queen to come,my apology accepted along with the promise of a day trip to Poundland,stand and deliver while we shiver our timbers and limber up for the party on interstate four,
sore from the laughter we take a bath shortly after because we like to stay clean,my Queen thinks I'm ***** and men go that way after thirty but I'm not so sure.
I have pure intentions and clean underwear,does she care? I think so but it's so hard to know what she's thinking,she tastes of melons when I'm drinking her in.
In this flotilla where the will of the one doesn't win,we all stick together, whether it's a good thing or not,
but I've got a plan and because I'm only a man it's a good one and so I carry on and she carries me,I meet her mum and she marries me..sounding obscene,I mean I married my Queen,not her mum.
It's all in the spaghetti which I'm sure that SHY YETI'S BEST OF BRITISH - PART 1 doesn't cover,so it won't keep me warm but no harm in me looking through this facebook and cooking a dish,should I wish, for some it's back to interstate four,where the cops will be waiting with a ticket to the potteries and a fine for the finder of the stopped timex watch winder.
where was I
in Mile end?
yes,
going to spend but stay lean as I talk with my Queen,
and so it goes on.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
She is night and day
She will run and play
She is confused and lost
But she knows the cost
For when all is said and done
She is the only one
Who will give it her all
Even knowing she will fall
Because who’s to say
What’s beyond the archway
Of fear and love
Of what you’re free of
To be standing halfway
Between what you can and may
Is a lost path to walk
Don’t be so shocked
When you find it alone
You have always known
It would turn out this way
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Thoughts wander like grains of sand in the desert.
The Bible is my oasis in the drought.
I exhale my own mind
breathe in psalms and scriptures.
Fill my lungs with air of all godliness.
I surrender to a beautiful mystery.
Unknown yet sure.
Inexperienced yet secure.
I'm a seeker that became a finder.
Lift my hands in exaltation of the Almighty.
Waiting for His grace to shower me like precious oil.
God,
Renew in me the visions of life.
Recreate in me a new mind.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
adventures
unforgettable adventures
watch the subject thru
the view
finder, click and whirr
and we stir (up some trouble)
and capture that adventure.
set worries aside, let serendipity be our
guide
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Jeg frygter en verden uden dig
Jeg er bange for om solen vil skinne,
og om blomsterne vil blomstre.
Vil min verden kunne fungere?
For når du spørger mig om,
hvorfor jeg ikke viser dig frem til alle.
Er det fordi jeg er bange for at du forsvinder,
Finder ud af at der er mange smukke mennesker
Og at jeg bare bliver en forvildet del,
Af den fortid, som alle glemmer.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
From the sounds echoed behind juvenile play-figures
To the vocal vibrations that reflect nothing but wonders,
Her voice deepens with every height she reach’
Sharpened in the spine of every speech.
Her voice gets louder as the vocal cords grow wider,
Penetrating through dimensions like a path finder,
Echoing through space and times
Compelled by ignorant minds.
Her voice awakens the deaf with larger ears
And puts to sleep loud mouths with smaller ears.
Hear her voice as she’s about to speak
And don’t let her silence say that she is weak.
Let her voice out this acquired volume of integrity,
Let her voice pierce through generations with simplicity.
Let her tone be comprehensive
And the melody as impressive.
*Your voice has ripened through the ages
You can now soothe pains of all stages
Use your voice to change a nation
And watch as it rejoices from liberation.*
Break the silence.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:53 AM UTC
And in
this
moment
I find
you.
there is
a magician
in your
eyes
that performs
for
me.
and as
your hair
brushes
across
your face,
time
stands
still.
so all
of the
universe
takes
notice
as you
pass.
and the
colors
that are
you ,
bleed
through
me.
knowing
their
way to
heart.
and under
this Capricorn
sky
I confide
to nomad
stars.
and every one
and everything
that is
in the
universe
or ever
was,
and like a
child,
I whisper
your name
up into
the night.
finder"s
keepers...
loser's
weepers.
and I
will
never
give
you
back.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
1.The Serpent
Pensive, she lies alone on her soft feather bed expectant.
Her eyes widely shut, imagining moments wildly exciting.
Serpentine desire contained in the burrow of her mind,
Sneaks out, slithers, snugly coils around her dainty waist.
2.Fact finder's predicament
The fact finding committee at last,
met in silence, in all seriousness,
But each member was found
taking a walk, in a direction different.
Each one's sweet whim, clearly
did reflect in the facts they unearthed.
Reaching a point of convergence,
therefore was not something expected.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
you were my home then,
the warmth in my fireplace, my
chest purifier, key finder;
whenever i leave you clung to me like dirt on the dishes
i carry with me your sickness for
love, for good.
somewhere between morning calls and warm bedsheets, i took
your hospitality for kindness for authenticity for love for truth
i was still drying my hair on your bathroom mat when you rang
the bell, and reminded me it’s time for
my checkout.
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
He looked on down from the higher ground
At the village he held in thrall,
A gaggle of bowers, of steeples and towers
And he ruled them, overall.
They went their way each enchanted day
Unknowingly bound in his spell,
Not able to leave, to fret or to grieve
While he ruled their wishing well.
The wishing well in the village square
That had been since ancient days,
Nobody knew who put it there
Some sage with enchanted ways,
Its spirit was always known for good
Till they dragged her from a ditch,
That haggard harridan, Elsie Hood,
Known as the village witch.
They’d ducked her once in the village pond
To see if the crone would float,
Pricked her skin with many a pin
So the Witch Finder could gloat,
The sentence passed was the first and last
For a witch, in that village dell,
While some were stern, said a witch should burn,
She was tossed, head first down the well.
The well grew an ugly, creeping moss
That gave off an evil smell,
And everything good from it was lost
Some said, ‘It’s the witches spell!’
Then he had come to the village square
And tossed in a coin or two,
Said, ‘I command, let me rule the land
And the village surrounding you.’
And from that day they were cut away
From the villages all around,
Each road would twist with an evil mist
They were lost, and not to be found,
While he looked down from the higher ground
To gloat on each church and bower,
For then by stealth he had taxed their wealth
Though all that he had was power.
A maiden sat in the village square
Selling her flowers and blooms,
Each day, enchanting the people there
By night, in the Tavern’s rooms,
She caught his eye, and he breathed a sigh
When she smiled, so innocently,
So he went to tell the wishing well
‘That’s who I want, for me!’
The spirit flew from the wishing well,
The spirit of Elsie Hood,
‘I’ve done the thing that you want me to,
But now you want her, for good!’
It dragged him screaming across the square,
And tore at his eyes and skin,
His blood was spread almost everywhere
By the time that she dropped him in.
The mist has gone, it has moved along
The roads in and out are clear,
The moss dried up on the wishing well
And the girl, well she’s still here.
They filled the well to the top with sand
So no-one conjures a spell,
They’d rather be part of the greater land
Than wish in a wishing well.
David Lewis Paget
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
THERE will be a rusty gun on the wall, sweetheart,
The rifle grooves curling with flakes of rust.
A spider will make a silver string nest in the darkest, warmest corner of it.
The trigger and the range-finder, they too will be rusty.
And no hands will polish the gun, and it will hang on the wall.
Forefingers and thumbs will point absently and casually toward it.
It will be spoken among half-forgotten, wished-to-be-forgotten things.
They will tell the spider: Go on, you're doing good work.
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