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Harry J Baxter Jan 2014
I don't know man. It just has been different lately, you know?

No not really. What do you mean? Like, explain it.

Okay so you know how you do it and you feel everything dissolve? You know? And that warm fuzzy light fills you up and the back of your head sags all the way to the floor? You know how you can't stop smiling? How nothing matters because everything is going to be chill in the end? You know?

Yeah? So what's the issue?

Well recently, and I mean very recently, I just got this feeling. This ******* feeling for two hours and all I want is for it all to be over.
The thing is - I know that everything is fine. That it's all chill and that I'm just geeking out, but still, the way it makes me feel. I can't do that anymore.

How the hell does it make you feel dude? Jesus can we get to the point sometime soon?

Right, my bad. It's my heart first. I feel my heart going at a thousand ******* miles a minute but when I check my pulse or heart beat - everything is normal. But still I feel it in my chest yapping like a dog at the front door and I can't convince myself that this is chill. Then it's my chest. You know how Jesus died of suffocation on the cross?

I thought they stabbed him before they suffocated?

Whatever, you know what I mean, how people on crosses couldn't breathe because of their arms and lungs and chest or whatever? Well I get this feeling that my chest is thinner than a sheet of printer paper. That every single time that I inhale it's never enough. Then I get this electricity in the back of my head. It creeps up from my sternum, through my throat and then to my brain stem. Like an itch you can't ******* scratch no matter how many layers of skin you go through?

Jesus dude.

Then I convince myself that I can't move my right hand. Convince myself I'm partially paralyzed. Only I'm watching my right hand move. But I feel like it has to be an illusion, because how the hell am I moving a paralyzed hand? It's all gotten so ******* twisted that I don't know which sense I can trust.

Well are you sure that that's the reason? Why don't you take a small geeb or something? For the sake of the scientific method?

Listen to me you fool. There is no method to this. Just madness. But I suppose, in the name of fairness, I should do some more research. Maybe just this one last time. Just to be sure.

Exactly... So you wanna smoke some ****?

Yes. I want to smoke some ****. Just for science and all that. I kinda have to. It'd be unamerican to not smoke, right?

Right.
Gabriel Ibarra Aug 2018
I wanna give you all of my mornings, even though I don't sleep though
Send you endless poems, countless selfies I just hope that you keep those
Locked away to look back on months or years or weeks from now
Make you wonder, make you ponder, make you think somehow
That at one point we were strangers unbeknownst to one another
Now I can't see me as whole if ain't we got each other
There's no me and you or you and I it's just us
Bound by these ties that we create and double knot, praying they never come undone
But if we bend or break I know that you can patch us up
Pray you make me an optimist and keep me from acting up
Hold me down, figuratively or otherwise
Hands pinned down, feign a struggle mesmerized
Look up, see you geeking, cheesing and laughing
Creases deepen on your cheeks and give you wrinkles worth having
Not like the ones when you furrow your brow, pouting and pissy
Mad about some **** I probably did and I hope that you forgive me
Hope the only silent treatment you give me is when you're fast asleep
But if you talk in your sleep I'm cool with it
Just please don't snore
And understand from time to time my hamper is the floor
But I'll always be sure to clean up
Never leave the seat up
And if you've had a long day, let you kick your feet up
Give you a foot rub, let you vent and rant away
And do whatever the equivalent of Netflix and chill is these days
wordvango Dec 2015
five thirty pm

drool
begins

fast life
zoom
seals in aquariums

burst world
is all
under water

just one small
hit  and

i hear my heart
beat

feel the world
outside

every window
flash lights


it's called
geeking
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
here's to getting drunk and writing *******; because mozart did likewise; or said man of the following verse: shouting into a plastic bag thinking it might make a pop' sound. **** get's technical, it's basically a comma on top, akin to diacritical markings; i'll mention the **** star later.

n.b. you emphasise the pop and descend into sound, well that's chiral for emphasis otherwise reserved for italics or bold (text). just about time, when language had to become as complex as comp-sprechen, or that famous censor of oath words: &$#@!

and you will hear no song without the word allah,
and you will not hear
                will not hear
                            a word said about the tetragrammaton,
because it's so, the constructs of language
   can provide categories for the arrangement known
as the tetragrammaton,
        and when it does become apparent,
what gives meaning to thought,
   as a higher tier of what later becomes a *hegel

or the: thinking about thinking,
   and the much esteemed follow-up of what
is like a sinking ship of beggars asking for morality;
i said the word allah, because it's the most
understanding word to use when figuring out
the sudoku equivalent of a lament configuration:
so it opens...
        and so too i see what needs to be seen,
how wahhabism abhors music, and how people
are starving, to simply hear it...
             are we people who really care
to write out an onomatopoeia of an ******?
well... reverse psyche teaches us this:
  that we are indeed bound to write something more
complex than the sounds we make during ***...
animals disguise their pleasure from ***
and therefore remain gravity prone,
sinking in the re-       toward infinity,
again and again, and again - always the same...
modern saudis abhor music, wahhabism
abhors music... yet the adhan: the call to prayer...
and didn't muhammad warn against
the dajjal?
                   the polyphemus,
                   that diabetic ****** that was ibn saud?
so few curses applaud the resurrection of a name
these days so abhorrent...
                then the poetics comes in and we have
a metaphor for something already not
               properly equipped... formerly
it was a television, but now the computer screen,
and hey presto! two eyes!
                 that life would somehow turn uncomfortable,
as it turns out, it has thus happened in saudi
arabia... the killing off of music might as well
equate to a sudden dodo policy of all other birds...
   truely, the shahadan can only be pronounced
in song and in tears...
                 the tetragrammaton i can think of,
and appreciate,
    but i can't appreciate the nag hammadi library
nor the dead sea scrolls...
          my heart forbids such emotions,
for i see a valley and a shadow in it and this shadow
becoming the valley itself...
but thus sung: you walk into a catholic mass in
a church, and they're mumbling their creed,
  like it was indeed a satanic mass incantation,
believe me when i tell you that you need to
experience it: go to a polish catholic mass and hear
this mumbling, hear this cult-like status
   of reciting the creed...
  i'd rather look at a swarm of mosquitos
and hear **** all... that's how scary that thing is.
no wonder then, for all the gothic architecture,
gargoyles 'r' us... so why didn't the eskimos
**** out a horror, given we share the same harsh
environment?
                  the jew didn't have to say anything,
play me anything, he gave me something to look at,
but given that there are 3 monotheisms,
  and that re-confirms the brothers zeus hades and poseidon,
what can be done?
         just as much as what we owe to feel -
what we owe to what's to be necessarily felt...
  for me i wear the y.h.w.h. "niqab" to see past
christianity, and looking past it i listen to something
islamic... at all times: it's very human, unrealistic
to be unified, but still, once in amsterdam i met this
egyptian, and he exposed me to le trio joubran
with the song masar, i had a few beers prior
took three or four tokes from the joint,
then he put the headphones on... minutes later:
i was monged... that slang enough?
   done gone, whatever... i listened to the ****
song with my eyes closed and was consumed by shadow,
and nothing...
                    i could have been imitating a ******
addict to be honest...
   when you become so detached from the world
around you, marijuana and alcohol and really
detach you even further...
     so this pretty dutch girl was looking at me
and i have her the V-peace (not the welsh longbowman-V
about to eclipse the sun with arrows in normandy)
sign and smiled...
                     i could have linked this to a spiritual
homoeroticism, but then she smiled back and replied
with a V-peace using her hand also...
         which kinda reminds me of
watching this sasha grey video about geeking out,
and how, throughout the whole video i'm just
picturing the conversation to a james bond movie:
for your eyes only, and then start thinking
about the niqab... or something along the lines
of self-induced oppresion...
     all this "anti" dialectical "opinions for opinions' per se /
per says" (heidegger's point:
  if you live a simple life... language will have
to become complicated, you can't lead a simple
life and think your language will seem "incomprehensible",
spend a year with a cat and hear meow all
the time: you're bound to come up with some
weird punctuation, as antidote to psyche)...
   so all this anti "dialectical" persuasion lasts
for some time... beauty attracts ugly,
but then beauty turns ugly, and ugly says,
something on the lines: this thing... this reservoir
of oil in the sand? it's not water,
     it's not the water in the sea and the water in lakes
and the water in rivers and it's not rain...
you can't recycle oil...
    sasha grey was really talking about a theoretical
niqab, wasn't she? or did the host just bring up
the salem witch trials?
                 oh i'm not a convert,
   even with all the overtones that i might be,
but given that i'm not working from the concept
of the big bang but rather from φoνoς
i appreciate the word αλλαη... it's a cushion type
word for what you dare only say when lament
approaches... either that or the stupid: why me oh god!
i like that spelling even, it's like the greeks never
laugh, or what's the basis of laughter, a H...
                how would you even say that αλλæ?
like blah blah bleh with a stereotypical Transylvania
accent of vlad the **** genius?
            cos η (eta) doesn't cut into either t or a,
but into the prefix e-    which makes it a grapheme
equivalent married to epsilon (ε)!
          the **** did we inherit?
i love the argument that comes from
  i don't care about your feelings...
                i don't care what you're thinking,
so why don't you simply shut up?
                  ah the pulpits and popes akin to
urban the 2nd...
       thankfully i'm just feeding silence (break line comma        over
^,or what i like to call the white, the canvas of defeat.

^yep, there).
Lauren Pope May 2014
X-Men doesn’t make sense without you here to explain.
Wolverine’s backstory is hard to ascertain.
Geeking out without you just isn’t the same.

I don’t know what comics are worth reading.
And the covers to these graphic novels are so misleading.
I’m trying to expand my comic knowledge without you and not succeeding.

The Game Cube is just gathering dust.
Two player to single player, trying to readjust.
Playing multiplayer alone feels so unjust.

“I’ll see you soon.” You say.
But I know that only means if you don’t work every day.
I’ll just spend our time apart wishing you weren’t six hours away.

I’m sick of Facebook being the only way we communicate.
And even though hearing your voice on the phone is great,
I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth the wait.

I’m sorry if I’m getting hostile.
Lately it’s been hard to smile.
Sorry baby, it’s just been awhile.
She bounces and that's the only way
Of describing her happy
One foot to the other
A hippity-hoppity of the hips
A woncity-bouncity of the biscuits
The hands are busy, but the mood is light
She's irritated, but in a good mood
The only way only she can be
I ask what's wrong
Thinking she has to ***
But it's nothing, she says
She doing her hungry dance;
She loves to eat
So as she spreads the bread
Cuts the cheese
Rolls the ham
And mayonnaise
She bounces up
And side to side
Geeking out
Hips a hoppity-hippity
Biscuits a bouncity-woncity
A sandwich is born
Like the smile
On her lips
Lauren Dorothy Jan 2013
I was skeptical of you at first
Simply because my wandering eyes haven't met yours prior.
But after we were introduced that one Tuesday morning, I noticed you all the more.
I wasn't sure what my feelings were those first days,
And I still didn't know after a week or two.
But I began to realize it slowly
When I would smile absentmindedly when I was alone, or when I would look at the clock when all the digits matched and I didn't know what to wish for.
Or that late night I saw a star fall, and I just wished for us. Or when my favorite color became your eyes.
I chastise myself for not holding your hand, for not leaning against you, for not showing my affection.
Now I realize the little things I miss. The unusual ordinariness which your existence depended on.
I miss you complaining about the sport you play but hate. I miss you geeking out over your favorite comics.
I won't forget my favorite night. When we just sat in the car and talked about nothing and anything. When I hummed along to a song you said you weren't sure you liked, but you hummed too. When you remembered something I said, and I looked at you in awe.
I miss the night where my feelings blossomed, when I began to be comfortable, when I knew what I wanted. I wanted the tall skinny smart guy who was adorably awkward.
I don't blame you for wanting another over me.
I wouldn't want me either.
I didn't mean for this to be so long. It kinda just happened.
Rachel Gosby Oct 2016
My Pain is everywhere I turn. My Pain is what I live from day to day. My body hurt and my Doctor can't do nothing about it . I mean **** they give me medications but do it work, hell no, so I go back and far and still nothing. I see different specialist and still nothing. So pain is my life, I try to run from the pain but can I hide from it, No. Pain is my life no matter where I turn its there. **** I have people in my life  that say you will be alright or God got you. And don’t get me wrong I love my positive people in my life. But they are only geeking me for failure. My Pain is  just what it is for the rest of my life. There no winning from the pain. I'm not going to win this battle, no matter what people  say to make me think otherwise. Before you know it I'll be somewhere and no one will remember me or who I was to them. **** I can pretend to be happy and put a smile but who will I be fooling, no one but myself If I try like everyone else is. I mean there nothing in this world would make me think that the pain is no longer with me. **** I wake up with my pain and I go to sleep with my pain. I mean **** there nothing in the world that will take the pain, **** no medication.  but it's cool just as long as I know that I have the pain and it's not going nowhere or nothing I can do about it. I have to have that what every attitude for the rest of my life my pain.
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2021
lovely day today
grateful for the light

watching Jokic play
his passing my delight

what would Susan say?
yes, I'm desperately seeking

but I live on my own
yes, I keep on geeking

           Ms. Meeking.
Travis Green Sep 2021
He will always be a part
Of my world without end
All the handsomeness
Immersed in hotness
All the man that has me
Geeking with his sensual vibe
His mind is where I long to venture
His body is all I need
To touch and feel an abiding desire
Coursing through my bones
With his mesmerizing brown eyes
His lips I can take in forever and a day
And play with his thick goatee
His black silk du-rag
Bring me into his sheer exhilaration
In the fragrant forest
Of his gorgeousness
Where I feel the most freedom
I have ever felt before

— The End —