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"giddily" poems
So I heard once that there’s always some gnarly looking carrot in every bag of carrots and you’re supposed make a wish on it if you get it. But I didn’t have a bag of veggies I had a jar of Gumby and Poki shaped gummies. Finally the day came when there were only two Gumbys left. One was bent in half and smashed together and the other looked as all the rest had. I pulled out the sad little gummy and made a wish like it was some ugly carrot. I wished my crush would kiss me, And giddily I walked to a coffee house because I was hoping he would be there even though I sternly told myself that he had no reason to be there. I found the coffee house closed and knew my wish wasn’t happening that night. I talked with a friend about my woes and she confessed her heartache. We smiled and laughed and died just a little on the inside. We had hoped that in college we wouldn’t feel like middle school girls with unrequited crushes. The next day he dropped off a fish (and this is no euphemism or pretty poetry slang, I opted to fish-sit while he went home for break). After he left, and feeling more than silly I took out the last Gumby and pretended. I pretended that it was every wish on a boy I had made since I realized boys weren’t completely disgusting. On my way to class I held the little gummy in my frozen, clenched fist and wished that’d he’d kiss me before he left. I made it really specific because every movie I’d ever seen with genies in it had taught me that specifics were key to avoiding mishap and mayhem. Obviously, it didn’t come true. And I feel like I’m back in middle school, wishing on ugly carrots and stars that look suspiciously like airplanes. Everyone has crushes, and still more wishes. Why I thought at the age of nineteen when the glamour of Disney-endings and romantic-comedy plots had tarnished to realism, that a Gumby gummy prayer would come true, well I’m not entirely sure. Maybe it’s no matter how old you are there are always ugly carrots and shooting stars and fast airplanes and romantic comedies and gummies in the shape of kids’ show characters. Maybe no matter how disappointed I am there will always be unrequited crushes and genies for wishes and God for prayers and heaven forbid hope.
0
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Ugly Carrots and Gummy Gumbys
So I heard once that there’s always some gnarly looking carrot in every bag of carrots and you’re supposed make a wish on it if you get it. But I didn’t have a bag of veggies I had a jar of Gumby and Poki shaped gummies. Finally the day came when there were only two Gumbys left. One was bent in half and smashed together and the other looked as all the rest had. I pulled out the sad little gummy and made a wish like it was some ugly carrot. I wished my crush would kiss me, And giddily I walked to a coffee house because I was hoping he would be there even though I sternly told myself that he had no reason to be there. I found the coffee house closed and knew my wish wasn’t happening that night. I talked with a friend about my woes and she confessed her heartache. We smiled and laughed and died just a little on the inside. We had hoped that in college we wouldn’t feel like middle school girls with unrequited crushes. The next day he dropped off a fish (and this is no euphemism or pretty poetry slang, I opted to fish-sit while he went home for break). After he left, and feeling more than silly I took out the last Gumby and pretended. I pretended that it was every wish on a boy I had made since I realized boys weren’t completely disgusting. On my way to class I held the little gummy in my frozen, clenched fist and wished that’d he’d kiss me before he left. I made it really specific because every movie I’d ever seen with genies in it had taught me that specifics were key to avoiding mishap and mayhem. Obviously, it didn’t come true. And I feel like I’m back in middle school, wishing on ugly carrots and stars that look suspiciously like airplanes. Everyone has crushes, and still more wishes. Why I thought at the age of nineteen when the glamour of Disney-endings and romantic-comedy plots had tarnished to realism, that a Gumby gummy prayer would come true, well I’m not entirely sure. Maybe it’s no matter how old you are there are always ugly carrots and shooting stars and fast airplanes and romantic comedies and gummies in the shape of kids’ show characters. Maybe no matter how disappointed I am there will always be unrequited crushes and genies for wishes and God for prayers and heaven forbid hope.
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80
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me, What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul? It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter, Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control; A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control. Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning, Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair; Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me, Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare; Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare? Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision, Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell; Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell; It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell. You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift, Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder; Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain, Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder; You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder. Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing, I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread; Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow, For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread; Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread. -- What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling, Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet; Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry, Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete; She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
0
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
The Devil's Curse
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me, What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul? It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter, Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control; A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control. Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning, Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair; Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me, Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare; Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare? Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision, Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell; Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell; It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell. You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift, Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder; Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain, Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder; You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder. Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing, I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread; Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow, For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread; Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread. -- What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling, Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet; Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry, Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete; She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
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31
Falling down and down, wings melting to wax until he's submerged in inky blackness. Falling from the clear blue sky, away from the glowing, golden orb hung high above in the air that he flew too high, too close to in admiration and enthrallment. Is this treachery, is this betrayal? Of the sky? Of the sun? Of the freedom he'd giddily reveled in? Is he not supposed to consider it as such? Even as he tries to steal a breath from the cruel water of the capricious and cold ocean, gasping and painfully alone?
0
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
Icarus
one tumbled out of the womb convulsing like a breakdancer five posed with lights & cigarettes, light eight lipstick smeared giddily on the backhand twelve bought birth control shared among friends pills split with a jacknife sixteen fascinated by violet waves & crystal castles twenty-one cancer of the soul flask in her ribs she moves among suitors like whispers of fame twenty-two nosering replaced polished for the wake croptop in the casket
0
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
alice
Oh my rose in bell jar! From time to time I watch you from afar, Keeping you in my peripheral vision avoiding the precision to acknowledge your decaying red; But I notice You've become more lively in this unbearable gray time, Tell me is it your favourite crime to mock my remaining solitude? Isn't suggesting doubtful hope to a dying person start of a cruel dispute? Ah! I've known that cruelty you're trying so hard to resurrect, You were the witness once And You know he was the only one That ever charming prince on a white horse Seemed like a promising escape from my fancy confinement, eh? With a swooning smile he bought my hospitality And I fell in hope, He claimed he had never seen such a beauty Oh I wish I told him then this beauty will last till her awaited twenty first; Forbidden to leave the cage doomed with a witch's rage; That could've spared me from this additional catastrophe of heartbreak; Let me continue; Soon shy smiles and secret glances bloomed into hearty laughs and sensual dances And I had never felt more beautiful in anyone's presence; My gloomy fort now welcomed these festive winds And I giddily waited for my blossoming spring ; But somebody should've told me that nothing feels bitter than the failed exchange of hearts ; You see, I gave him colours but with that he painted another visage from his past, Love rekindled in his heart and it was me left with burns and scars; But instead of blood there were sparkles that kept my vision lighted and filled my imaginary with scenes from dreamy novels; And I got addicted these mocking hopes again; So, my dear rose in bell jar! Tell me are these imaginations bewitching you too? Are you blushing or are you angry? You're being too red to give me a  clue;
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Mar 18, 2023
Mar 18, 2023 at 7:21 PM UTC
Rose in Bell Jar
Oh my rose in bell jar! From time to time I watch you from afar, Keeping you in my peripheral vision avoiding the precision to acknowledge your decaying red; But I notice You've become more lively in this unbearable gray time, Tell me is it your favourite crime to mock my remaining solitude? Isn't suggesting doubtful hope to a dying person start of a cruel dispute? Ah! I've known that cruelty you're trying so hard to resurrect, You were the witness once And You know he was the only one That ever charming prince on a white horse Seemed like a promising escape from my fancy confinement, eh? With a swooning smile he bought my hospitality And I fell in hope, He claimed he had never seen such a beauty Oh I wish I told him then this beauty will last till her awaited twenty first; Forbidden to leave the cage doomed with a witch's rage; That could've spared me from this additional catastrophe of heartbreak; Let me continue; Soon shy smiles and secret glances bloomed into hearty laughs and sensual dances And I had never felt more beautiful in anyone's presence; My gloomy fort now welcomed these festive winds And I giddily waited for my blossoming spring ; But somebody should've told me that nothing feels bitter than the failed exchange of hearts ; You see, I gave him colours but with that he painted another visage from his past, Love rekindled in his heart and it was me left with burns and scars; But instead of blood there were sparkles that kept my vision lighted and filled my imaginary with scenes from dreamy novels; And I got addicted these mocking hopes again; So, my dear rose in bell jar! Tell me are these imaginations bewitching you too? Are you blushing or are you angry? You're being too red to give me a  clue;
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47
the beach is for losing yourself i ask you what manner of man or beast could ignore its siren song it dragged our silly smiles across the sand feet trailing giddily behind us we slipped wearied into the warm unceasing avalanche and a year was washed away in the thunderous salt rinse the beach is for best friends and for beer it is for games beneath the stars while a plankton metropolis fluoresced underfoot and a meteor grazed the spine of leo we slumbered through brooding rains that slunk away when we awoke to stare them down white shapes cast slender shadows on the reeds at noon sea breezes crooned tunes every child has always known in languages no man will ever understand the beach is for all of us last night we dreamt of ancestral slimes marching out of it today let us plunge in it is for even creeping snakes and gnawing fleas verily but most of all it is for your glistening face for two sleepy seagreen eyes accustoming themselves to the bright shores of morning while your coffee cooled on the camp stove it is for the sheen of your wild brown arms the surf of your laughter words with which you filled a quiet moment circling in my mind like gulls over the harbor yes most of all most of all it is for you speeding down the narrow cape i was beside you tapping in tandem with your electronic music realizing more with every pastel cottage flickering by that you had found me and i had never felt so safe
0
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 3:25 AM UTC
mare nostrum
People - so many bodies… Some seem to engage for but a moment, of course, before bustling past on hot sidewalks, with varied smidgens of mind and heart; collections of vibrating chemistry, moving to specific oscillations. How to make sense of it all? We can be drawn to warm embers, avoid icy slaps on our cheeks reddening. Grey shapes pass us by, hardly registering a blip - are they nothing more than the flotsam of flailing limbs echoing our own caustic needs and wants pending? Yet we all want much the same things in life: to be noticed with kindness by the benign, safe from the razor-blade elements, find our slot in life that counts, and leave something good for posterity, if it comes… For dots of humanity of which we are a part, in some fashion or another, keep floating giddily past us… Are they up for what will come with stoic resistance, or neglect? Do they expect some dystopia and the terrors of a dark night? Ask the fretting little children, who can’t sleep for their fright! They too need a river of peace ~ the Promise to be fulfilled made by One wiser than all else… ~~
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Mar 16, 2023
Mar 16, 2023 at 7:58 PM UTC
The Promise
it was hard not to notice her suffocating stance eliminating life from breath stark contrasts clashed chemist stench rife clawed nails fought with burnt electric hair face caked with false promise rude lips bled in twisted shapes mismatched words shot giddily from handgun mind long since spent guests' amused disdain stilled at sharp madness flashes of veined sclera screamed woe signatures etched on death warrants coffin lids clamped shut wild assertions rank religious fervor vomited about a hushed room charity's stretched compassion quit in rush to regain a summer's peace efforts to impress stabbed coarsely dense air strangled rational thought guilty images beset tortured space noxious noise begging revolt yet collective dagger falls aside mute lest honour too is lost as raucous gasps fail to impress with anything less than dreams of a quiet book easily wooed by a silent stream
0
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
oxygen thief
God, I miss you   I miss you! (You miss me more) but I highly doubt it Does it ache in your chest when you think of how warm my breath is on your lips? Do your knees tremble and buckle beneath you after imagining our last kiss? Do you find yourself squirming giddily in your seat when you recall something sweet I said to you when we were in bed? Does your skin crawl with anticipation for our next encounter? Do your fingers fidget when the urge to divulge emotion is so strong you want to punch things? Do you fight yourself daily to just keep yourself at bay in fear of smothering me? Something tells me by your delay in replies and your nonchalant guise that you don’t miss me more than I miss you.
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
I miss you [most]
Break your back over my heart three times & claim it's body poetry. Knock on wood & pray Zeus didn't hear you. You say you know no better, but I've seen the malice in your eyes the moment before our lips touch & I am afraid; I love it. Trust you trust you trust you.. Why would you beg I trust you? You knew from the second you saw me that you would end up covering me in kisses the way lava covered Pompeii & giddily watch as I suffer when you leave me to dry. You are so heartachingly beautiful, &, as the daughter of Apollo, I am obligated to let the son of Aphrodite know; my father was the brightest star until nineteen years ago.
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
We Already Have History
He never taught me how to perform the art of the jump-shot. I simply watched. He would dribble down the clumsy circle of our carport, back up behind the exomaed bicycle and detach his body from the world, against gravity’s insistent pull and fade into a legend, his wrist becoming a swan pecking toward the sun. He never taught me how to arc a blade, the gripping bite of a razor, against my cheek. I simply watched. He would lather his face with foam and I sat conversing with him as the blade giddily glided, graceful as a demi-god reaping the crop of auburn from his then young face. When I tried, as a teenager, I nicked my upper lip and only harvested my own blood. When he grilled, he flipped the meat like an ace of spades, magic in his wrist revealed. When he drove, his hands and feet became extensions of the car. When he drove a bus, his eyes sought all angles of the road, chatoyant caution in the flicker of his iris. When he fiddled with our old, beaten, mellow-toned guitar he was articulate though he never knew a chord’s name nor what song erupted from him. He read the Bible, but kept the gospel in his eyes, at the tip of his green thumb. He read the Koran, the Torah, the words of Gotham. I read how he sought truth, beauty, in all people. I simply watched him traverse the dividing line between saint and stubborn, between sinner and relinquish. If there was ever a man after some God’s heart, he was one who asked questions and lived into the answers. He kept his hands clean, kept his chin high and mind was always lofty and companioned with a world of dreams. He would often stare out windows sitting at the dinner table, and I knew he was living into a prayer. I never asked what he was doing, never asked how to do what he could do. What my Father taught me was to listen to my own inner voice, no other’s, and if I wanted to be a man, I was to simply watch what a man did for that spoke a language more fluid than air.
0
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
What my Father Taught Me
He never taught me how to perform the art of the jump-shot. I simply watched. He would dribble down the clumsy circle of our carport, back up behind the exomaed bicycle and detach his body from the world, against gravity’s insistent pull and fade into a legend, his wrist becoming a swan pecking toward the sun. He never taught me how to arc a blade, the gripping bite of a razor, against my cheek. I simply watched. He would lather his face with foam and I sat conversing with him as the blade giddily glided, graceful as a demi-god reaping the crop of auburn from his then young face. When I tried, as a teenager, I nicked my upper lip and only harvested my own blood. When he grilled, he flipped the meat like an ace of spades, magic in his wrist revealed. When he drove, his hands and feet became extensions of the car. When he drove a bus, his eyes sought all angles of the road, chatoyant caution in the flicker of his iris. When he fiddled with our old, beaten, mellow-toned guitar he was articulate though he never knew a chord’s name nor what song erupted from him. He read the Bible, but kept the gospel in his eyes, at the tip of his green thumb. He read the Koran, the Torah, the words of Gotham. I read how he sought truth, beauty, in all people. I simply watched him traverse the dividing line between saint and stubborn, between sinner and relinquish. If there was ever a man after some God’s heart, he was one who asked questions and lived into the answers. He kept his hands clean, kept his chin high and mind was always lofty and companioned with a world of dreams. He would often stare out windows sitting at the dinner table, and I knew he was living into a prayer. I never asked what he was doing, never asked how to do what he could do. What my Father taught me was to listen to my own inner voice, no other’s, and if I wanted to be a man, I was to simply watch what a man did for that spoke a language more fluid than air.
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71
We'll stroll one day Down a country lane, Palms together, flesh to flesh, Stopping to kiss In sunshine-dappled glades. My hawthorne hero, holding me against you as we gaze, Stopping to laze Upon each other, Drunk on heat and sweat and summer *** The scents of oh, everything, including us And we are all. Giddily, we'll fall Together. I will know What it is to lie with you and laugh, *********** happiness in warm spurts As you take me in your arms, Fondling your possession Finding me forever willing Following me, fascinated, into the hot, hot Summer of our lives.
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Come, Summer
stoked lightening, does where your fur stroked unmeeting skin a ribbon grow heating wetly (at fingers tightly coiling sin)? does where from stocky steam ****** ***** effuse drunk blood, a stagger of giggling ****** giddily unstoppably bud? perhaps, or, does (i know) your unknowing skirt a mutter a rill of sweetness (acrid) as like honey and butter? A query, i think, your parting question answers. At cherry pressing; at crimson lancer.
0
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
Untitled
Whisper sweetly into my ear and let your breath caress my neck as your words lap at my mind and flood it. Run your hands gently through my hair and down my spine to rest on the small of my back. Lay your head upon my breast and feel the beat of the wings of a million butterflies on your temples. Mark a path of light touch from my neck and along my collarbone and let your lips follow closely after. Leave blooms of purple roses across my hips and pink half-moons down my thighs. Breathe me in deeply, and feel me taking the place of oxygen, and swimming through your veins. Making your head spin giddily with fancies surreal as I dance in your heart's meadow and set the butterflies free.
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Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 2:13 AM UTC
(10.02.12)
It's funny how when we are young We're taught to be honest Told that the truth is the best By adults who deal only in lies Because honestly they've learned To fear the truth And what do we get in return? Panic attacks from (just thinking about) how our parents will handle precious, treasured truths that we hold in our hearts and giddily whisper to each other in the dark with a sense of danger and adrenaline Yet we can't help but want to share them with each other, with adults, with the world (look how beautiful and new and vulnerable it is this truth that I've hidden in my heart) Because we were taught to be honest We long to be honest But are afraid our precious truths will be tainted By this society of lies Created by people who say they love us and want the best for us But if they really care that much Then why Why make it so painful to let you know What we want the most What we think is best To share with the people we love what we love
0
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
Honesty
The hunky lad passed me smiling. I sat and wondered what he was into. I spent the next short time whiling. Did he like the same things I like to do? Was it possible he’d find me beguiling? Or was I just a romantic Ford Pinto; A bit of data barely suitable for filing? Not worth a kiss let alone a good ***** Thus run the silent mental maunderings Of a fool with little else but fanciful wishes As he went about his chores like laundering Dusting, vacuuming and washing dishes. Dreams like those of a damsel in a castle Drug me away from the drudgery of the day. And helped me not see life as a hassle; Instead it made my mind a place to play. If fortune could send a lucky handyman To fix something I didn’t know was broken I could think it was a very dandy plan And that God was sending me a token. Almost like a voice was whispering to me Everything is gonna be okay, my child. So go ahead and celebrate giddily. Your life is will soon go from mild to wild. Oh yes, I would sing and dance in joy Around my tiny rent-controlled home. God was going to send a perfect boy So he would never again need to roam. He could stop here in his **** travels And I would make him so glad that he did. He could stop pounding the gravel; Just stay with me, almost on the skids. I’d serve him chicken from the Colonel I have lots of coupons I’ve set aside. Maybe he’d like something from McDonalds. I would set the table with great pride. And I would make sure there was wine By the lovely gallon, here for him to drink. If he wanted a more inexpensive kind He wouldn’t really even have to blink. Yes I would make a lower-class heaven With our modest Rent-a-Center stuff. I’d do the scutwork twenty-four seven. I do it all now, it is nothing that tough. He would only have to love me madly. Life would be a fairy tale for both of us. He’d consent to stay forever gladly; Life would be simply, totally marvelous.
0
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
FOOL'S PARADISE
The hunky lad passed me smiling. I sat and wondered what he was into. I spent the next short time whiling. Did he like the same things I like to do? Was it possible he’d find me beguiling? Or was I just a romantic Ford Pinto; A bit of data barely suitable for filing? Not worth a kiss let alone a good ***** Thus run the silent mental maunderings Of a fool with little else but fanciful wishes As he went about his chores like laundering Dusting, vacuuming and washing dishes. Dreams like those of a damsel in a castle Drug me away from the drudgery of the day. And helped me not see life as a hassle; Instead it made my mind a place to play. If fortune could send a lucky handyman To fix something I didn’t know was broken I could think it was a very dandy plan And that God was sending me a token. Almost like a voice was whispering to me Everything is gonna be okay, my child. So go ahead and celebrate giddily. Your life is will soon go from mild to wild. Oh yes, I would sing and dance in joy Around my tiny rent-controlled home. God was going to send a perfect boy So he would never again need to roam. He could stop here in his **** travels And I would make him so glad that he did. He could stop pounding the gravel; Just stay with me, almost on the skids. I’d serve him chicken from the Colonel I have lots of coupons I’ve set aside. Maybe he’d like something from McDonalds. I would set the table with great pride. And I would make sure there was wine By the lovely gallon, here for him to drink. If he wanted a more inexpensive kind He wouldn’t really even have to blink. Yes I would make a lower-class heaven With our modest Rent-a-Center stuff. I’d do the scutwork twenty-four seven. I do it all now, it is nothing that tough. He would only have to love me madly. Life would be a fairy tale for both of us. He’d consent to stay forever gladly; Life would be simply, totally marvelous.
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48
In the Land of Dreams Where no desolation reigns The heart is light and gay Absent the misery of loves pain The soul is unburdened and free To tip toe giddily among the stars Or plunge wildly into green salty seas In the land of dreams There is no echo Of suffering human cries The spirit is cleansed forever of its grief Death’s hand close no eyes In the land of dreams @ Tammy. M. Darby Nov. 18, 2016
0
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
In the Land of Dreams
In this darkness, life I see not I feel not, but you As time passes silently Minutes per minutes Days per days I sense not, but you To helplessness I submit In this pitch intoxication I am not, but you With the desert singers I am back, with you Reclining us all on darkness By the fire, in submission pupils’ burning in eyes closed This tavern serves only Without, within with you To the ones with cups Or no cups at all I smile giddily, with you They sing feverishly Drumming just a plate Strumming just two stings To the universes’ rhythm I drink all, with you Aged in lovers’ veins And they sing Of clay pots and rivers Of birds and prays Of dervishes and kings Of me and you On the desert sand Wine flows like the soul I desire all is more I desire all is you In this darkness, life Open me to enter you Take me from me To vanish me in Darkness and me Life and you
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Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Darkness and you
My heart is a bloodhound, Relentless in nature. Bounding giddily toward oblivion. Without remorse or comprehension. My heart is a hammer, Blunt, forceful. Each obstacle in its path a nail. My heart is driftwood, Lost among the waves, Ebb and flow — Futile. Without destination.
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
What The Heart Wants
My gaze ascends over a hue of celery officially labeled "yellow wax pepper" but most definitely a gentle backdrop holding securely the reminders of all the love the world has given me. My toothless, cow-licked, mussed-up babes.... perfect in every way. Across the room a single stem stands straight and tall deep magenta peony plucked and giddily gifted. A token of sweet adoration and a gentle reminder to receive love when it is offerred.   Under the canopy of my white tree the green green leaves comfort me. A sanctuary, my own little world in which I can listen for the chatter and giggles lose myself in wonder anew awash in a world-true.
0
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
Beholder
I cut my hair just to see if it would grow back. It was long, thick, and somewhere between Light brown and strawberry blonde. I hung my head upside down And ran my fingers through the eighteen inches Of snigs and snags and knots For the final time. It wasn't silky. It wasn't particularly soft. I gathered it into a ponytail And Chop, chop, chop Thousands of tiny hairs cried out And tumbled to the floor en masse. I shook my head about Flinging my shorter hairs into my eyes. I glowed with the feeling of liberation While I shivered from the cold on my bare neck So I stared at the fallen golden rope Part gleefully, part mournfully And I waited, Warily and giddily and wonderingly, For my hair to grow back. I tell you this, not to explain That old photo of me where I look like a boy, But so that you can understand that If one day I decide to push you away, I'll only be waiting.
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
I'll Only Be Waiting
I’m so sick of dreaming of you falling asleep and you’re back in my life the mistakes we made the fights we had we words we said all forgiven I’m back in your arms my heart swells with happiness you’re back! I want to scream I want to cry I want to shout giddily and I’m back! back where I’m always longing to be but then I awake and a bucket of ice water runs down my face down my back stealing the breath from out of my chest I’m needing a life vest I need someone to help me because I am not in your arms we have not forgiven each other and you are so, so far away
0
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
dreaming
I'd at least like to lurk in your subconscious mind if I my hands can't wander through your forest of hair or your smooth sands of skin. At least, I'd like to sit in the smallest chamber of your heart giddily pulling the strings if I can't dive in to a chocolatey iris or curl up in your fleshy twigs. I'd like, at least, for you to wonder if I've melted into someone else's body wonder if I've touched someone who made me feel like a bit more human than you could. Because I sit and wonder often about the past form of you and I, I would die upon any indication that you do not.
0
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
A Small Request
I have not forgotten how it felt to be reckless at 17 and alive Purchasing the cheapest bottle of chemicals with the highest volume from that shabby 24 hour petrol station. I have not forgotten how it felt to stay up until sunrise Tresspassing in privately owned fields before phoning home to say goodnight and lying about sleepovers at well to do houses. I have not forgotten how it felt to giddily kiss my best friend until we fell asleep Only to realise he had fallen in love as the stars fell away and summers amber blaze crept up over the hill. I have not forgotten the quite car journeys home Driving away from those memories those summers and those friends although they have all misplaced the colour of my eyes and the echoes of our laughs - I have not forgotten.
0
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
Recollect