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"grims" poems
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Drowsy, as the eyes of mine sleeps a joyride of fantasies, a jumping of sheep so, the pages turning mama would red while my feet are falling and my arms up my head, hands unsaid with a gentle rock and a soft abye I'm off to dream land as I fly silk of red swooped to the entrance gate a little slip, a little slide till it fade and gently I landed at the pearly lake A boat by Venice caught me alone with the breeze scented, so cold as snow and Grims hoisting a whooper a sure one they'll never throw passing here and there and off they go storms of Neptune came up the sea big waves flung, I swung towards east clovers led me to an isle and said "How Lucky you'll always be" no more thunders but just all reverie A twirl to the woods, exciting it be with beams of the moon and the stars sitting on the tree lights flashing, a calm of ebb the spiders glistening, an artistic web dream land is promising like vines that whip and crawl bearing fruit to bless us as we call with roses of red, daisies blooms at dew mama's lullaby at once, I knew
0
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
The Diary of Dream Land: I (Drew's Entering)
She is not made to be loved. She is made for hand holding, stares that mean more than they should and tentative kisses that taste like sin. He looks at her like he doesn't quite understand everything, but he isn't the least bit worried and that scared her more than anything, because the girl who has "love exists" permanently scrawled on her arm isn't absolutely sure that this is true, not for her anyways. love is a rose and some people forget that there are thorns, although she never could. She's too apprehensive. But this boy still looks at her like he could love her. She wants to believe that it can exist and she will always have hope, but deep down inside she doesn't think that it can for her. She has seen too many people claim to be in love, but it's rude to say i love you with a mouth filled with lies. And yet she still believes that hope is the most important thing, and maybe that's what she should have gotten tattooed on her, that you must always have hope. because hope gets you through to tomorrow and love is just something that the grims brothers created as a joke and people scrambling to find their soul mate is the punch line, their not so happily ever after. There are people though that give her hope that love can exist and when she is with him, she tends to forget about anything but the way it sounds when he says her name or the way he looks at her like she could give him the world. Green alluring eyes filled with promises of forever, but people have different versions that define the word. what's his? And even though the thought of her opening herself up to another person who has a different definition of the word forever, she can't help but admit that when she thinks of him, which she does often, she's in a trance of smiles and happiness. audacious (adj.) - extremely bold or daring, recklessly brave, fearless - what i want to be with you
0
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
audacious
She is not made to be loved. She is made for hand holding, stares that mean more than they should and tentative kisses that taste like sin. He looks at her like he doesn't quite understand everything, but he isn't the least bit worried and that scared her more than anything, because the girl who has "love exists" permanently scrawled on her arm isn't absolutely sure that this is true, not for her anyways. love is a rose and some people forget that there are thorns, although she never could. She's too apprehensive. But this boy still looks at her like he could love her. She wants to believe that it can exist and she will always have hope, but deep down inside she doesn't think that it can for her. She has seen too many people claim to be in love, but it's rude to say i love you with a mouth filled with lies. And yet she still believes that hope is the most important thing, and maybe that's what she should have gotten tattooed on her, that you must always have hope. because hope gets you through to tomorrow and love is just something that the grims brothers created as a joke and people scrambling to find their soul mate is the punch line, their not so happily ever after. There are people though that give her hope that love can exist and when she is with him, she tends to forget about anything but the way it sounds when he says her name or the way he looks at her like she could give him the world. Green alluring eyes filled with promises of forever, but people have different versions that define the word. what's his? And even though the thought of her opening herself up to another person who has a different definition of the word forever, she can't help but admit that when she thinks of him, which she does often, she's in a trance of smiles and happiness. audacious (adj.) - extremely bold or daring, recklessly brave, fearless - what i want to be with you
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3
Hey ! what are you laughing at? Are you laughing at that girl With freezey hair, Baggy, over sized clothes? You're Giggling meanly from behind Because of those? Her ragged dress is all you can see, Her messy hair is all you notice, Can't u see the pain in her eyes? No she's not fortunate like you To get the love of her mother Or be pampered by her father You  laugh at her dirty,hardened hands? Yeah those are the same hands she puts on her lips And cry every night silently. As silent as the moon above her head. Although just 13, the little girl  is not fortunate like you To run & complaint to anyone When she's mercilessly beaten up By those, supposed to take care of her. She waits for the nights To lay awake under the stars and remember her past Her father, her mother Those happy days. What happened to life? Why her world turned upside down? Why is she so helpless and feeble In this ever known town? With a dust storm in her heart She wakes up. Yet another day to cope. But she has her will and her strong hope. You think she's weird, cz she doesn't gigle in small jokes? Oh she doesn't find them funny. They don't amuse her anymore. What's more amusing than this life? What's more laughable than her will of still going on? Walking miles after miles With blisters in her feet, Along the desserted street. Wearing An worn out, torn out, old muddy sandle. Yeah go on. Laugh at that too. You think she didn't hear what you said? She might be thick skinned But sister she's not deaf. And she knows it's ok to be different. Struck by untimely age That old soul, although 13 But feels like she has seen a lot Lived a hundred lives And left them behind one by one. Now she has learnt to let go. She has taught herself to grow. She's taught herself to live alone. Not look for a helping hand Or reside in a castle of sand. Though she has none to speak to About her grims She writes them down About All her hopes and all her dreams. One day she'll stand by her friend Who was bullided in school for being a boy and still having long hair. One day She'll stand up for her friend  against unwanted stare. She'll know, No one should be subjected to torment. Cz She knows it's ok to be different. So go on. Laugh and gigle at anyone you want. Throw your hatred and your tont. A bullie is all you'll ever see While looking at the mirror. And it'll make the poor little girl stronger. Stronger than you can ever be.
0
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 7:25 AM UTC
Different
Hey ! what are you laughing at? Are you laughing at that girl With freezey hair, Baggy, over sized clothes? You're Giggling meanly from behind Because of those? Her ragged dress is all you can see, Her messy hair is all you notice, Can't u see the pain in her eyes? No she's not fortunate like you To get the love of her mother Or be pampered by her father You  laugh at her dirty,hardened hands? Yeah those are the same hands she puts on her lips And cry every night silently. As silent as the moon above her head. Although just 13, the little girl  is not fortunate like you To run & complaint to anyone When she's mercilessly beaten up By those, supposed to take care of her. She waits for the nights To lay awake under the stars and remember her past Her father, her mother Those happy days. What happened to life? Why her world turned upside down? Why is she so helpless and feeble In this ever known town? With a dust storm in her heart She wakes up. Yet another day to cope. But she has her will and her strong hope. You think she's weird, cz she doesn't gigle in small jokes? Oh she doesn't find them funny. They don't amuse her anymore. What's more amusing than this life? What's more laughable than her will of still going on? Walking miles after miles With blisters in her feet, Along the desserted street. Wearing An worn out, torn out, old muddy sandle. Yeah go on. Laugh at that too. You think she didn't hear what you said? She might be thick skinned But sister she's not deaf. And she knows it's ok to be different. Struck by untimely age That old soul, although 13 But feels like she has seen a lot Lived a hundred lives And left them behind one by one. Now she has learnt to let go. She has taught herself to grow. She's taught herself to live alone. Not look for a helping hand Or reside in a castle of sand. Though she has none to speak to About her grims She writes them down About All her hopes and all her dreams. One day she'll stand by her friend Who was bullided in school for being a boy and still having long hair. One day She'll stand up for her friend  against unwanted stare. She'll know, No one should be subjected to torment. Cz She knows it's ok to be different. So go on. Laugh and gigle at anyone you want. Throw your hatred and your tont. A bullie is all you'll ever see While looking at the mirror. And it'll make the poor little girl stronger. Stronger than you can ever be.
Continue reading...
81
Times when I can’t find the words so right, When happiness turns into fright Times when I want to run away, for I can’t be me And there isn’t anything that sets me free. It hurts to be breathing for the pains too deep to be let gone And no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to go on. I don’t know till when I’d be on a test. I don’t know what they say or is it me that I detest. I can’t shut those eyes for they still seem to cry, Nothing ever works no matter how hard I try. Sometimes the light seems too bright, 'cause grims' gray has replaced all that was in sight. The next day just brings in some more bad luck, And in the end there’s no happiness to tuck. The times when I want to sink in and disappear, For my presence doesn’t count and existence another arrear
0
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
Mutterings
My lyrical ability limits you mental flexbility Swift as agility hinders there intellectual capacity Lock  em up in captivity opened like a cavity Ya chest be split up like an anatomy Blood plasma So ya visions become a liability Who bitter thee Shatter competition like Ghengus Khan dynasty hallowed it be Thy name put many to shame Critics go to flame burnt to a single grain Height takes like a snort of ******* Waxing your brain gas em with these floating propane Light butane flame blows up everything With no remains we nasty baby Quick witted and skilled break through weak wills Fools shootin' at me kill.me. But I'll still breath through my eye gills Ascending hills Like Lauryn nothing even matters Im crazy shatter your bladder Make ya walk 8miles Marshal Mathers You'll be front lined interview With the death version of Don Rathers too many taddler Who running with blabbers back stabbers Wave one hand with other hand with holding the dagger **** swagger id rather be the grims bagger Or better yet a caddy shack with a room full of macks And beautiful women cooties to ****** Fatal attraction causing halo love TKO I'm at the top of my game Chillin' with the Monks meditating my pineal gland with dead sea scrolls in my hand None could touch me cuz my energy band To strong none could withinstand That force held in I'm a combination of antimatter and sin With touch a gin but then again Im just another poetic gem
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Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
Flexibility
Shouldered cold bent deep in grims of collar turns to maddened hash of blustered sleet the walk to wear is work itself, A solemn adamantine morning, pleads me to ignore the well of failing human kindness, by this hand I try to see predicaments of alder whip lacuna from the mindless face that beauty is but symmetry thus ,crudely overrated and then again there's Winter Jasmine, understated, famined stem emblazoned with the gemstones of its flower now the winter sour, sweetens cracks the lip a timid noise pouring forth, some golden ratio, sulphur trill of banished voice
0
Feb 16, 2024
Feb 16, 2024 at 7:37 PM UTC
Some Golden Ratio