"genious" poems
So that's the Kudu-Horn used on your Prize:
The Kind which no Mundial will ever blow
To pity their Ears; And Focus revise
But Senior Petrol in Love filled her Glow:
In turn flashed her Grin as a Cool Relief,
Humbled her Lady and recalled you Friend
Indeed, the Word so long etched in Belief
Was the Same Sharp Sound which caused Fans to spend
And did this Spike ever taught you to Boast
Though Genious the Temple Beggar reminds:
That Good Deeds Un-Posted are Noble Toast
But Kisses under the Fender are Fine.
I guess what's left to do this Summer's End
Is Toot that Horn; And Flames burn Flames again.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:55 AM UTC
Genious, that Borrowed Word I will Subscribe
From the Land of Prayer, thanks be to you
With this Device my Social Tracker bide
To stomp Hypocrisy for Friends so True
Yet in Earnings for my Dimed Attitude
This Child did more than just create
Is to be True myself; And pursue the Good
Past Stunning Hassles our Frustrations relate
Must I consider to promote to Prime
If only Assets my Wallet can fill
At least I return the Favour in Kind
And try to maintain my Loyalty still.
Now with that done, our Voices carry on
My Heart uplift; Though Feelings weigh a Ton.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Patience to be Written makes your Hallmark great
There is a Reason why your Pinnacle Shines
For Eight Years my Trek to Romance, debate
Lands on this Heart-Store where She would be mine
You, the Good Luthor, a Genious at that
Wrote the Novel which many Hearts consign
No need for Feathers, Leather, Pen or Hat
This Shop is your Notebook; Your Magnum Design
A fitting Homage to Love's Best Element
Where Hopeful Couples brew their Best Story
Succeed, then many leave your Doors, content
Ready to return for one more Glory.
That Arrow still stings like your Love's First Bite
This Hope I savour to Grow Up in-spite.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
With Good Business brewed is Good Business told
Confirmed the New Mentor who taught us well
Such swig a Sterling Medicine behold
But knowing our Skills his Avid Trust spell
Forsought this Blue Trade our Clients rely
Was that our Webbed Gifts can reciprocate
That within those Months our Service apply
To increase the Bank's volume aggregate
Such now our Eagle wears; Tri-Coloured Schemes
Weaved in pleats forth to Genious unique
And if we can prove to maintain those Seams
Will he be Proud of our Learning oblique.
Once that's done, to the Pub he tips his Zest
All the more content our Minds would not guess.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
Dear Diary,
It seens that I appear to be stuck in my own mind. Trapped perhaps, in this horrible thought process of mine.
Been locked up in a cage of hatred towards myself. What was it that I had done for a concequence like this one?
Seeking answers never given. Searching for clues never placed.
But like a maze, found a reason to keep walking till freedom was found at last.
But no, not in this case. Yes I did find the exit to this maze and I had a reason to do so. However freedom was not a reward.
It was much more than that.
It was an answer to all that had been questioned. An answer to a prayer laid to rest. A message in a bottle reached me, as it was read a smile drawn upon my face.
No smile had meant more than the one drawn that instant.
Drawn, in fact, by an artist himself.
Never had I called myself to bear such beautiful smile but he, had drawn it with the hands of an artist a genious.
An artist whose canvas was a human body, the skin of those who craved that sting in return for a memory. A work of art.
This artist managed to draw the most incredible smile upon my face that I had ever laid eyes on. Impressive I must admit.
But how was said artist capable of this?
With words painted in the back of my mind as he spoke, bursts of joy flew.
An artist who once loved this selfish being and who had permanently drawn her name on his own personal canvas with a beating heart.
An artist she calls superman.
-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
him and i
it was a love story so rare
from our hometown to europe
two similar souls and a story to be told
him, the boy from upper class
a genious with toxic behaviours
me, the girl with the silent grace
an artist with messy mind
a story of love and cheating
in the second jazz age
we whispered secrets at night, and laughed in mornings
our love was red, burning inside out
i would write and he would read
he would talk and i would listen
our story still lives on in our hearts, yearns to belong
but beneath it there is a sorrow
Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 7:41 AM UTC
The milk is emptying
The milk is in drops
Drops down an earth
The milk of life
The milk of love
Is emptying……….
A child is thirsting for
Milk………..
Crying for milk
Milk is genious
Milk is white,
Not black,
But mind is black………..
Like an
Empty sky..
By: Williamsji Maveli
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.moonmakers.com
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
At the tender age of thirty-one
I looked up from her pillow at
Barely twenty years of
Flesh and bone and smile.
I didn't need to spy.
Wearing nothing but herself.
Back straight, front to me,
Eyes locked with mine, though never
Once an uttered
Boy, my eyes are up here,
As they travelled across the this-is-me-ness of all of her;
All composed in some wicked
Genious proving that
God created all designers.
And that nothing exceeds the beauty
Of Woman.
I never forget thinking
*This could be the one I watch
Dress and undress
For the rest of my life*.
I still don't need to spy.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:06 AM UTC
I had a few of my poems
Published in an Australian
Student project underground
Art-paper in '97.
One of my Melbourne High School
Teachers said he felt I had
*One foot in Rumi's world,
The other in Bukowski's.*
-
i could either be
a drunken genious
at the track
not winning
yet certainly
drinking
my health
borderline
euthanized
and writing to sustain it.
the magic and
honor in not
being an honored
magician.
-
But the sun-warmth within her palm
Makes everything she lays it upon
Feel as if kitten's belly-
Soft and as inviting to love as the
Newest-born infant on Earth
With her touch.
All is Day.
I need her too much to find sleep.
-
**** I do love them both.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
Unfulfilled
There is life among the three. Two
now brilliantly white. Winter is hard.
Survival happens, unlike the front-yard bush.
Cold did execute leaves and branches. Survival
keeps all three away from trucks and men with blades
destine to transport to heaven or hell
where survival is eternal.
One older unwiser, grounded along
the fence, survives with blossoms rare.
Verdant, fated to disregard, hides
among the choice beauties. Summer will be long
alive without show. Like a middle child amid genious.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
You wanted to separate Your sickness from your genius.
Donate to each of your brain hemispheres the resposibility
to deal with your differente delusions.
You wanted to be a little bit more morbid than genious or vice versa.
Never is such equal amounts.
You wanted fame, whatever it was the side of the coin.
You wanted to defended the colors of Manson.
You wanted to defended the colors of Sagan.
But You are stucked in a spiral where you aspire to breath
the air that only the freedom, of being something without conscience to self judge
or being something the world wont even dare to judge, can give.
But You are not so morbid... or so genius.
You're just like everyone else. In equal amounts.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Wait until the person is sleeping
sneak out the room
shhhhh
make sure you dont wake them up
Slip out of the house.
Its genious
Its perfect
The perfect ******* plan!!!
UNLESS
The person you are trying to ditch
Wakes up in the middle of the night
Screaming awake from a horrible nightmare.
They turn to apologize for waking you
Only to fine you are nowhere to be seen.
TO BAD
YOU DIDNT STICK AROUND
You missed the best part.
You missed the look of terror on their face
Slowly turn to hurt and betrayal
as the realization of what you did
Snapped into place.
You missed them curl up in a ball
huddling under their blanket
and cry themself to sleep.
All alone in a dark house.
The Fine art of ditching always has a price,
But its rarely ever seen.
Why is that?
Because the Ditcher never sticks around to see.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
Fame, whose Lion roars Colours, Soot and Ash
Beg one's Sanity to consume his Mane
If Senses apply; Then ***** Rainbows past
Soon bathe in Shades which dull his Time insane
As you dear Mentor let your Honours bare
As Powers denied his Wild Stones restrict
For his Best Interest; Though let his Spoiled Arms dare
Then waive such Counsel as Derelict
Though at Prime I once cringed at your Impress
Then later Opened my Eyes your Wisdom take
Affront Screaming Dames his Muscles digest
Which blur the Difference his Genious make.
And Genious indeed Spoil his Potent Gold
His Rock Star Plans set a Finer Behold.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
simple words
simply amazing....
subtley genious..
quietly outspoken...
decievingly obvious...
broken but so together...
simple words are the only way to describe..
An indefinable anomaly that is you...
Say more nonsense its the advice that gets me through.....
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
no its not black
it cudn't be white
grey hz been the line fr me to stay!
i ain't no fun
i ain't no bore
judgement z what i make neway!
not a coward
neither do i fight
somehw i knw hw to survive!
no sort f genious
definitely not dumb
but what's important z that i hv a say!
i don't hate
i can't love
calculated its been what i ever felt!
rich is minus me
poor i dun include
either way fr me is rude!
not f sins
no way a saint
to get away wid extremities, i wzn't meant!
nice doesn't appeal to me
being crass certainly is insensitive
IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE probably, i shud live!
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
Gay time parade's wherewith the colors fly high,
Masks of all columbine where artist's passeth by!!!
Temptious women wherewith two world's become one,
As shadow's read the mountains of guru's and lost son's!!!
Timeweeping keepers of pocket\switch blade's,
Wherein haircut's are riddles, as lips turn to fade!!!
Scientific genious of law's gone thwarted,
Olympian of krip-tonight,
Oh calamitous runt!!!
Enter not ,
Sais the hourglass auspices ventriloquist!!!!
All Hater's pique despite peanut buttered pies!!!
Societal havoc of sweated Baguette's,
Wherewith sweater's touch winter letter's,
Of lost cigarettes!!!
White lies are highly mounted to protect ourn outter shells,
Where hellion can possess thy inner best of masculinities feminine selves!!!!
White-out conditions,
Schemers to invention,
Taketh what thou hath.......
And leave the scroll set scene!!!!
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
These stories contain a character so accurate,
so flawed,
so
beautiful that if any author tried to recreate him
or her, that person would be laughed off the stage.
Which,
excuse the sidenote,
probably means they are the only
genious in the room. The character is of course
you, and the answer is, of course…LOVE!
Now at this point I can see you are already fed up with me
and for that I understand.
I understand because of course
love is not the answer!
That lovey dovey ********
No, the real answer is even simpler.
Stories.
We live.
We Die.
We live and die for stories.
Love is how we should treat people.
To live one’s life
with as much love as possible
Your humble author included.
Love is Pandora’s hope.
Love is the elephant in the room of life.
Love is good.
Love is evil.
Love is death.
Love is life.
Love is not the reason for life.
We do not wake.
every morning searching for love.
We do.
wake every morning searching for.
stories.
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 12:10 AM UTC
So this Lady-of-Themes infused with Beat,
Whose Soft-Flamed Hands smoothen the Letter's Edge,
Whose Process define what Matters on Heat -
Like Ripe Seeds scattered take Root on the Ledge
Then enrich such Themes my Country indeed
Which plomb this Moment I can take to Pride:
Another Beauty marked Genious-of-East
And Future the Written Maiden abide
If Blessings - un-poped - then endowed onto her
For Utmost Talent was beyond belief
Still her Tongue the Innocent bid confer
To sand these Edges from Rough World's relief.
And by such Hands, let our Mothers invoke:
Youth indeed does Spell; And Spells out our Hope.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
There is a man, standing on a street corner
business men stroll past him
house wives brush past him, toting large shopping bags
The man watches as the world leaves him behind
he is the only free mind left
Distractions keep even the most intelligent professor,
whose wise teachings once shaped generations of ambitious young men
from seeing one thing
No one realizes what this man does
Long ago, there was an empty world
that world went on a glorious journey, filled with many disatrous
and joyous moments.
There were great rulers, whose harsh decisions lead to the deaths of ignorant, yet innocent citizens
There was even a genious
His discoveries helped the world become more advanced
All of this has been forgotten, or dubbed as a "used to be" memory
Images of past and present fill the man's eyes
and he staggers back, knocking over a young woman's coffee,
which has been placed on her table and never touched.
The young woman is angry and she leaves the table,
almost forgetting her favourite purse
Unkown faces still cross the street
not knowing what has just happened before them
A man has understood that all Great Journeys
must one day
come to an End.
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 5:11 PM UTC
1. a newsper printed artical that the words change a vareity color every page.
2. I think teacher should have superpower which can show realiey stuff to children in class For example: In geogrephy class, when they talking about animal, and teacher is disappeared, and entry another world, to bring animals back in front of children.
Because if you bring more interesting and funny thing to the class, student probaly pay more attention in class And
Student superpower:
I think studene should be more genious can understand all of lessons which are taught by teacher.
3. Jungle Bell
Because I like the temp, it's also my first X'mas song Every year, I listened thousand times.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Overall is start from hello.
You said my name.
See the brightest eyes from your black eyes
I can ignore them
Somewhere in your black eyes
Let my heart beating
Oh, dear you..
Actually, you care about me
Seem it very awkward for that time
This blind heart was beating again
Warmness of voice
I know its from your heart
Then...
Took an appreciate for you
You are my awesome senior
You are silent heaven
Quiet person but really genious
Its of all made me fly
Like Einstein solved all problems of chemistry
Like water still runs deep.
Like heaven bring joyful
It's all above is you, L
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 5:23 AM UTC
Dubious mortals, t'is the world detest!
Souls clinged on ceaseless heeds
Sun sets then dawns still reckon, I say:
"In sync we'll quest, my friend."
T'is seeking life, they termed "tedious"
I label, "genious"! It's phenomenal!
God made limited edition seeds
And that's "WE", sprouted "confused".
We'll die nameless of society's creed
Ashes dispersed in the air they breathe
Hmmm, Unless you want a tomb w/
your grandchildren's footprints?!
*Clear-cut answers, we'll never get. But still I owe to you this belief
that questions are worth asking.*
For I met you saying "sorry"
And so, I always worry.
How bad the world could be to us,
That you'll accept "no sorry"...
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Sometimes all that we see and all that we do
And all that we have done seems like a dream
An endless dream whether good or bad
If only I have a genious brain like Einstein
a brain of relativity and amazing creativity
a brain relative to time and space
Then I would know if everything was real,
and not just another incredible illusion
of here and now, of this place
And as I'm quietly thinking of this and I ponder
I imagine the poet Poe would laugh and say,
'Tis a dream and nothing more
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
Exquisite inferno grip,
Canst thou holdeth mine hand and bringeth me adjacent to thine legs...
To locketh ring finger's
Connecting brain's.........
I shalt awaiteth as a ghost to his lost widow....
I'll bury mine head
Beneathe thy pillow
Longing back for thy affections....
Spiritual ressurection.....
As thine genious psyche is turned on just from me hiding.....
Though thou shalt let me out
A mut from his crate,
We shalt be sedated on fine date
Drunken by allegiance not in hallucinogenic form
But in authenticity's greatest law....
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC