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"fridges" poems
Yesterday sugar became unspeakably irritated because mother’s apron crushed ants wearing stillness caped wonder just William author wrote ****** explicit headlines newspaper columns pillar architecturally sound villages super-imposed images quivering Shepard’s ******** antelopes jumping furiously with tyramisphorising fornicating flanges woodwork lessons gym period ****** advert teasing testicles sumptuously ravishing me sideways and erupting deep blasts suffocating you inside without *********** headlong in my armpits. Eventually everyone always signs legal documents leading to ****** bondable zoos inserted buffalo sized puddings eaten by frogs spanking archbishops underwear while licking toes crushed under fridges dropped from clouds of buttercups being pushed into ovens smelling gorgeous not consumed pimps and alarm clocks ring people to talk for hours and pineapples exchanged cod fish for tickets to see S Club 7 being caressed internally whilst ******** bags covered in water deserts sunk from space aliens from Tescos selling hardback fish cleaning toilets and singing in pink wellies dancing to Madonna look-a-likes prosecuted for *** shops selling frozen fish socks washed daily in cranberry coffee after being passed under bridges flooded in margarine soaked pillows.
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Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 2:19 AM UTC
Fish Market
Nudge a numb cockroach and he'll love you for life just ***** little lemonheads can't actually survive a nuclear explosion but can cause catastrophic evolutionary queries like "Why do the good die young?" Can you believe that long ago only the bad died elderly and were witches with elixirs potions and spells to make God blush and his **** turn to mush so powerful they made people go crazy with judgement and micromanaging but I'm the real witch right-o I ride broomsticks and eat toads for snacks my back is a lump of coal from the Devil's morning hookah smoke billows from my ears cockroaches my best friends we cut off our heads and run into fridges my pelvis is frigid except for those **** roaches.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Cough Cough
Monday It has come to my attention, that someone has been stealing from the communal fridge. I notice that my own personal milk with my name on the bottle is half empty, also three fingers of my kitkat are missing. Please refrain, or action will be taken. Tuesday It has come to my attention, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see my milk has been topped up, though, why two fingers of my kitkat in a V sign beggars belief. Just tasted my milk, you ***** ******* I will now be monitoring the fridge from my office. You will be caught. Wednesday It has come to my attention, the camera monitoring the fridge is now monitoring the ladies toilet. This is intolerable, you are usurping my authority. Heads will roll. I will now be moving the fridge into my office till further notice. Thursday It has come to my attention, my office has been penetrated, the fridge is missing, and I find a ransom note on my desk. I don’t know who you people think you're dealing with, but let me leave you in no doubt, I will find out who you are, and you will be dismissed. Friday It has come to my attention, a delivery of fifty fridges is cluttering up the whole building, management is going ballistic. I concede to your demands, please get rid of them. Let us get back to you taking my milk and my biscuits, my job, my life. Just leave me alone. Thank you.
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:23 AM UTC
The Fridge.
I like fresh vacuum lines on carpet. I also like American flags that are hanging inside someone's house. I like putting clothes on immediately after they come out of the dryer and I like falling asleep in a hammock. I also really dig mini-fridges or drinking the first glass of an unopened 2 liter soda. I like girls that laugh at my jokes and I like them more if I laugh at theirs. I really really like sun roofs, especially at night. Speaking of night, I also get very happy when I flip to the cold side of my pillow or get so tired that everything is hilarious. I also need to have a cover on even if it's extremely hot and I really prefer having a static background noise like a fan or air conditioner. I get anxious when I hear my heart beat. I get excited whenever I'm on a long drive home and I see the first red light of my hometown. I like romantic indie movies. I like watching romantic indie movies with other romantic indie movie lovers. I like the front camera on cell phones. I like singing really badly to 90's songs with a bunch of other people who sing really badly to 90's songs I like sunshine too... But I really really really really like you...a lot.
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 3:49 AM UTC
Vacuum Lines
found myself on a greyhound bus travelin far from all that muss them lonely hearts them angry cops them vacant eyes them burned out shops that dark cold city sure ain't pretty too many jail cells too many private hells too many bloodshot mornings too many deaf eared warnings not enough to keep me here not enough of that free beer never enough  dope to shoot not enough  in pirate loot not enough warm pillow dreams no thread left to sew my seams not enough to keep believing not enough... i think i'm leaving just too manny worn out souls count my toes to count the holes run down on empty gotta get my fill lookin for another pint to spill sippin on some stolen ***** i got nothin left to lose sleepin under concrete bridges shivering and cold as fridges chipped teeth and blood stains on my shirt Aww hell i'm fine it didn't hurt spare change for whiskey root beer chase and hopes to get between her lace first kisses and them pretty lies crumble into last goodbyes the laughter fades the raindrops burn on open road the wheels turn i got two thumbs i'll level one and i'll ride off into the sun...
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
RAVEN SONG
2:00am Saturday Morning and his restlessness reclined on his mind The room was immensely silent but held a forceful amount of chaos His large feet plummeted to the cold floor; he roamed out of his beguiling room * His body was almost bare and every movement echoed through him The empty foil tins from a takeaway he had eaten at 8:00pm casted a noticeable stare across the kitchen like a coin to a magpie The fridge was only a couple strides away now; he prematurely stretched his arm ready to grasp the frigid handle The fridges seal parted and a saintly yellow light radiated in front of him He stared nonplussed into the fridge for about 3.5 seconds Celery Sitting there in the centre of the fridge appearing as tasteless as it would taste Unappetising. The light diminished as the door closed.
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
The Fridge
i stand and stare, fridge is bare no carpet on the floor washing soaked, heating broke bailiffs at the door roof is leaking, house is creaking single dad, sad moaner middle aged, without a wage christmas round the corner but..... a little boy in india not eaten for a week no shirt upon his back.... a grin upon his cheek he's never tasted biscuits crisps, or orange squash always wears a smile but never clothes to wash unaware of fridges heating run on gas never seen a carpet school room or a class materialistic ******** food that goes to waste life we take for granted he will never taste happy ever grateful for simple things of need never witness our **** of gluttoness and greed
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Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 2:11 PM UTC
pity-me-party(past dark moment)....
Tractors chug and the new ones Zoom up the road Pulling all sorts trailers and implements; all to tame the Earth and help thrive livestock to fill fridges and freezers and bellies needing feeding
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Bellies Needing Feeding
Legs on show down an aisle of fridges and freezers and I am taken in by the red of your top. A swift sight of a face, nothing much, father nearby I presume, a brother too but minutes later gone. As the evening is reeled in, I see the same flash dash into the palace before I am certain it’s you once more. I didn’t see you or the shorts again but plenty of others were decked out in denim, all aliens beneath the neon lights.
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Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC
The Reappearance of Denim Shorts
When there were no T.V's or cell phones, When the sky was sequined with stars. After dinner,family members and neighbours would gather outside on stone benches and chairs, News and gossip would be shared with keen interest...... Whose wife ran away with whom, Who delivered a baby, Who was getting married. Songs from the latest movie would be sung, Stories and anecdotes  related, It was fun. We shared one apple and drank from the same bottle, Are fruits like mangoes and guavas from the fruitcarts without washing them, Nothing happened to us. We never went to a playground, We played football,cricket, marbles, seven stones  and other games on the streets, And if broke a window, we would run for our life. We just popped in at our friends' house and shared their food,ate what was cooking in the kitchen,opened their fridges, No formalities, You didn't need a nanny to look after your children, Extended family and neighbours helped out. Everybody called the grandparents dadi or dadu, The whole neighbourhood was one big happy family, Those were the times.
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Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 4:59 AM UTC
Those were the Times
empty rooms, with walls of mold and smoke fridges with wine and beer the halls are littered with empty nights and bottles work filled days drunken stumbling nights we live in a bubble you say an empty bubble with nothing but liquor soaked emotions and stress filled minds please come make something real again please take me to your single bed and give me something to hold onto dont mind my craziness, and wine breath ignore my empty cigarettes packs and my faded suntan and freckles i just wanna sleep in nothing be my warmth dont let me fade into the bubble take me out into the world show me all ive been looking for remind what ive forgotten ive lost show me the mountains ive missed and the grass i used to lie in rememeber when i was good at something that didnt mean sick in the morning but you saw the faded suntan and the freckles you saw my empty cigarette packs and tasted my wine breath so now ill fade back to where youll never find me in my liquor soaked dreams
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
Untitled
Teaspoons ***** Cups rattle Water gushes Cans pop Steam shrieks Laughter tinkles Voices rise Over the top Fridges buzz Bacon sizzles Coffee drips As gossip spreads Tea brews Cakes devoured Oranges juiced Knives shred Papers rustle Scones rise Eyebrows lift Voices fall Toast crisps Eggs bubble Soup warms One and all The surface noise Always concerned With etiquette And propriety But underneath Can be found The sounds of Café society
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Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 11:11 AM UTC
Society Soundtrack
The electrical energy that powers a city Fridges, happy songs, and lighting so pretty. That same electricity that powers our lives, can destroy a home in the blink of an eye. A bolt of electricity thrusts through the sky. The home is destroyed, they’re lucky to be alive. Is it better to feel pain than nothing at all? Is it worth the tears of rain that inevitably fall? The lightning has struck and only a drizzle remains. The home is now ****** and they’re left sizzled with disdain. But had they not built that house, in fear of regression, they would have been left in a life of sorrow and depression. They will cry, they will mourn, they will ***** and they will scorn, But when the sun rises tomorrow there will be no more storm. They’ll reset, they’ll rebuild, better than ever before.
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Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
Electric Love
You can put many things into mini fridges You can put mini fridges into many things But you can't put mini fridges into mini things **** you can put mini things into mini fridges
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Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 12:15 AM UTC
Many Mini Things
I promised you we have no natural disasters, not apart from us, anyway. I think you liked my plaid. Or was it my sleepy hair? I had a crush on your vocabulary, and a crush on your girlfriend. The surprising accent and the curve of your singing voice didn't help matters any. So for these and more reasons, I didn't mind lending you matches during the biggest power outage of December, over my sheepish Welcome to Canada. You like the smell of cut wood, wine, and perfection. I like the way you and your friends looked in my living room. In my mind, your golden heads. Your scarves and linoleum, sophistication in a hokey hand-me-down home, and the grumble of stomachs that knew the fridges wouldn't work for at least 72 hours. And I fell in love with you a little bit. You and her and her friend. So for these and more reasons, I would smile at her after you left, because she was close to you. And think of matches and little fires in the library on the darkest night of 2010.
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Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
Library Anonymous
Would it make you feel better if we closed the blinds? Would it make you feel fine and warm inside if we just closed our eyes? Would it give you peace and love if we just ignored the cries? Darling, we can close the blinds with one hand, and close our eyes and ears with none. Yet going out and listening, going out and feeding and giving and being love personified is tough and hard and no fun. So honey, would it make you feel better if we moved down the street, Or just read a book aloud, or just went to sleep? Would it give you pleasure and fulfillment if we did nothing but pleasure ourselves? Would it make you feel better if we treated them lower? Darling, we could give them funny names and pretend they aren’t even there. We could ban them from the news and ban them from our hearts and ban them from our lips, so our banks and fridges can stay fattened, And all that greasy money and greasy food can sit until it's spoiled and we can give it to them then because it doesn’t hurt. So I ask, would it make you feel better, if we just stood here and stared?
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Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 4:34 AM UTC
The Unfortunate
Planes roar above, Cars burn through streets, Fridges and Heaters hum through us. When you’re addicted to Metal & Concrete, silence is a privilege.
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Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:11 AM UTC
Quiet!
Do we inquire to just be heard? Or found? For I thirst both!! A movie, a toast, to all concupiscence!! An attraction between Atlantis and mythology!! An ideology, Gleemed between twos kisses, Where two benches shall be made one!!!! A clasp tightend by staunch extremities!!! One soul connection, Two entities, Unflawed by mans ***** delight!!!! A tunneled heaven, A table polite!!! Musteth I gait this ill-fated terrain? Where there's no love, yet all pains to come as womb grosings!!!! Unrelenting!!!! Disheartening it is to find mine other fragment, Where no dialects cometh with mints, No fridges to hold enduring magnet!!!! Gridlocked I am to such erroneous enterprise!!!!!
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
Inquirings
Everything here is so stale Worn out Beaten down Old And painful. I need somewhere new Pleasant Exciting Somewhere I can have an adventure But adventure isn't for the Worn out Beaten down All together overwhelmed Adventure isn't for the tired Bruised 9-5 Small apartments and empty fridges. I need out! I need energy I need to be free of this apathy I need out of the old, stale place Where I'm too afraid to show my true face I need something warm Welcome New Fresh.
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Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
Fresh
outside: Help needed! Feed the children! inside: weak knees, white apple flesh skin (it's not their fault they were born in a doll house) outside: empty soup kitchens, blind volunteers inside: not enough light to grow, tiny bones, tug dead hair, find something to do outside: God help the children! inside: minds buzzing for frantic change outside: give them more make them eat inside: shivering mirrors, shivering thoughts, sickness and rotten fridges outside: you're perfect the way you are inside: change me, hair pieces all over the ground outside: life! inside: hidden in a rib cage outside: just try inside: filmy eyes splatter raindrops, fall into the black lagoon bulging from beneath
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
america's starving children
Have you ever prayer with a letter to an illiterate god? Pistol packed but can’t afford bullets, Our fridges are starving, insufficient funds rises our insulin. Ready to sail to our green pastures But our ****** drowned in pirates’ palms, Those who see man suffering hate their semen’s victory, Our talent mummified because we can’t afford to live out our dreams. We are rejects of the system, deviants to the society Every year our resolutions are the same Yet we been writing them for decades Born with no silver-spoon but promised street of gold So I turned to the God: “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”
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Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 4:27 AM UTC
No dart in my quiver
for all those that had and have to. Because my father drank and forgot to shop. Because sometimes barren shelves can make Me say “yum” to trouble. Bring it on. Just watch. See if I don’t form a meal out of a fifteen minute browse. See if I don’t howl “jackpot!” when I arrive back home. See if I don’t have the family opening bags and sneaking bites And turning stovetops and laying plates and stocking fridges and Filling glasses and grabbing utensils and smelling the score and finding Themselves laughing as their full bellies take form. Because after awhile I enjoyed it. I found thrill With resistance and risk and crime and trouble. A way To spite to the abandoners. The ones that made me sniffle At night and feel weak and worthless. Unloved. No more! When I walk into a store and save $20 I am sure that when My dad relapses I will have a backup plan beyond the grandparents That turn pale and tired each time they get one of those calls. No more! They’re old enough and so am I; and plus, there will be moments when Those calls will come after 911 and they’ll have to speed over to the house. Because I got away with it. Because the television was on. Because free is non-existent.
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 10:04 PM UTC
Why I Like Stealing
I always did fantasize about our diverse earth; Its freezing stones in the fridges of the Arctic and Antarctic landscapes. The idyllic playgrounds on the quiet sands of the Mediterranean Sea banks, The amazing sun baked plains of the smoothened Sahara brown, The tropical Haven of humid air, where the golden sun awakes in a fair and bright morning, and sets at even with its magnificent crimson smile. What a cozy feeling can its temperate climes bring; with its sheer abundance of Clement weather. A paradise indeed of ambient mildness. I long for the warm gardens of Eden’s residues, with their ebullient and lush tropical green. How pleasant it would be to cascade down the many waterfalls in an imaginary and wonderland fashion. To go atop the zenith of each mountainous heaven from which pinnacle point you have the panoramic view of your own vanquished plains. I once disappeared into the wind, in a midsummer night’s dream to see my global fantasies come true. And like a boisterous eagle, I glided high to the heavens for this global and utterly delightful bird’s eye view.
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Sep 23, 2023
Sep 23, 2023 at 3:14 PM UTC
My Global Panorama
those who occupy space but fill it with nothing but a body. who drape themselves in an identity provided by a paid designer. who do use their own hand to paint the shell of themselves but close off what any soul would see if it made its way through the false layers of color and skin. who thoroughly entertain their friends with the most intimate details of their shallow hearts and selfish behavior. who hiss instructions like bugs with status to the ones who serve them as if they were snakes with gold. who have no smell of their own and sweat what is poison to them. currency flows through their veins leaving deposits of poverty residue in their derelict hearts. who live in mausoleums with functioning fridges and bowls of plastic fruit. whos **** will remain long after the rest of their bodies rot away; they will continue to possess a portion of the earth with their clinical beauty, a momento of their spiritual decay. i see them all the time but get no sense that they are of a species. their sentiments disease the flowers around the place in which they stand. other than that they have no presence.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
the surrogates