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"gumdrops" poems
I breath in the misty air The birds are chirping everywhere I pass by a nearby stream Where fishes looked a sparkling green The waterfall sprays cold mist Where Romeo and Juliet once kissed The sun shines on the forest floor While I eat an apple to its core Insects fly and crawl around A rainbow stone was also found The leaves are green with big raindrops They are as big as two gumdrops The ground is wet and full of mud The flowers are about to bud A beautiful and gracious butterfly It's wings the color of the sky But now my trip is over My souvenir is a four leaf clover But what I will never forget Are the animals and insects I met
0
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Rainforest
i was there with the locked up free they stared straight through the bars at me the gate was open no one had to stay they spoke of church in exchange for food lights out with 50 smelly-ass bad moods i saw it superseded rude so, i walked down and ate the trash i had no church no shame no cash the garlic bread was free the sweet rolls weren't for me so, i walked back down to the dead-soul church to find a name i could besmirch with lust, debauch, an empty purse she told me she had her own room and bath we tried to pull one on the ***** said that we were legal hitched she asked for proof and I.D. we didn't have a thing that ended our sad little fling goody gumdrops ain't gonna get my ring grab my gear as i walk i sing i know the words to everything if i happen to forget i'll make up better ones you'll bet raised my sign and i raised my thumb hoped a car was gonna come sat there in the Yakima heat sign propped up next to my feet a nice redneck stopped and said "have a seat" he was welfare office bound i was just a broke road-hound waited for him in the shade told him jokes for smokes he made a good trade got dropped off at an angry sunning truck-stop flew my sign one eye out for cops a white guy in a small red car pulled up and said "i'll go that far" soon we broke down on the road i was sure my luck would soon implode instead we put our heads on think we woulda fixed the kitchen sink but waters last to beer when i drink we got some bolts and ******* 'em on before we knew it we were gone he got a smile i got this song then we hit Seattle like a **** nothins' right if ya don't know wrong NOTHINS' RIGHT IF YA DON'T KNOW WRONG
0
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
I'D **** ANYTHING BUT YAKIMA, WASHINGTON
i was there with the locked up free they stared straight through the bars at me the gate was open no one had to stay they spoke of church in exchange for food lights out with 50 smelly-ass bad moods i saw it superseded rude so, i walked down and ate the trash i had no church no shame no cash the garlic bread was free the sweet rolls weren't for me so, i walked back down to the dead-soul church to find a name i could besmirch with lust, debauch, an empty purse she told me she had her own room and bath we tried to pull one on the ***** said that we were legal hitched she asked for proof and I.D. we didn't have a thing that ended our sad little fling goody gumdrops ain't gonna get my ring grab my gear as i walk i sing i know the words to everything if i happen to forget i'll make up better ones you'll bet raised my sign and i raised my thumb hoped a car was gonna come sat there in the Yakima heat sign propped up next to my feet a nice redneck stopped and said "have a seat" he was welfare office bound i was just a broke road-hound waited for him in the shade told him jokes for smokes he made a good trade got dropped off at an angry sunning truck-stop flew my sign one eye out for cops a white guy in a small red car pulled up and said "i'll go that far" soon we broke down on the road i was sure my luck would soon implode instead we put our heads on think we woulda fixed the kitchen sink but waters last to beer when i drink we got some bolts and ******* 'em on before we knew it we were gone he got a smile i got this song then we hit Seattle like a **** nothins' right if ya don't know wrong NOTHINS' RIGHT IF YA DON'T KNOW WRONG
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56
Being weird is important to me. I find it's a gift because it means that you are different than everyone else. I know I am weird because not very many 9th girls have my hairstyle. I say weird things. Instead of saying, what's up, I say "wasabi". I tell corny jokes. I'm weird because I like hugs and not very many teenagers like hugs. I'm weird because I eat olives and sunflower seeds, for snack. I'm weird because I believe in fairy tales characters like mermaids, fairies and unicorns though people tell me that they're not real. I'm weird because I'd rather read a good book than watch T.V. I'm weird because I have at least 20 nerd glasses and 5 snap backs. There are so many ways to be weird. I'm the weirdest person I know so I'll use myself as an example. I know I'm weird because not very many girls have dreads at 14 years old. I also say weird things. Instead of "what's up? "I saying "wasabi". I also tell corny jokes that I know aren't funny like, what did the penguin say when his friend asked "why did you slap me? ! " He said, ¨I didn't slap you, I high fived your face." It's not all that funny is it ….Thats why its weird to say it. I'm weird because I like to give hugs to show someone I care, but others only do that with boyfriends and girlfriends. A ****** like me might have a fairytale land of their own, where fairies, mermaids and unicorns live. I have a fairytale land of my own, full of candy canes and gumdrops, fairies, mermaids and unicorns. I have a black unicorn with a green and neon yellow horn, green tail, and a neon yellow mane. His name is Lucky. His favorite snack is Skittles and, his favorite food is graham crackers. His favorite drink is strawberry milk. We have dinner under my tree full of hearts. I'm weird because all that I just said is childish, but I don't care. A ****** like me might rather read a good book than watch television. A ****** like me might have twenty pair of nerd glasses and five snapbacks. A ****** like me might not wear dresses, skirts, or shorts. A ****** like me might write books and poems.A ****** like me might fall on purpose to make someone laugh. A ****** like me might like school. A ****** like me might stare into space without noticing. I do this five times a week for at least two minutes; weird right. A ****** like me may dance, sing, or look up at the sky randomly without knowing. I'm me and you're you. I'm not you and you're not me. So, please don't judge weirdo's for being who they are because they're gonna be them and you're gonna be you because that's how its suppose to be. So how weird are you? I bet it is not weirder than me.
0
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC
******
Being weird is important to me. I find it's a gift because it means that you are different than everyone else. I know I am weird because not very many 9th girls have my hairstyle. I say weird things. Instead of saying, what's up, I say "wasabi". I tell corny jokes. I'm weird because I like hugs and not very many teenagers like hugs. I'm weird because I eat olives and sunflower seeds, for snack. I'm weird because I believe in fairy tales characters like mermaids, fairies and unicorns though people tell me that they're not real. I'm weird because I'd rather read a good book than watch T.V. I'm weird because I have at least 20 nerd glasses and 5 snap backs. There are so many ways to be weird. I'm the weirdest person I know so I'll use myself as an example. I know I'm weird because not very many girls have dreads at 14 years old. I also say weird things. Instead of "what's up? "I saying "wasabi". I also tell corny jokes that I know aren't funny like, what did the penguin say when his friend asked "why did you slap me? ! " He said, ¨I didn't slap you, I high fived your face." It's not all that funny is it ….Thats why its weird to say it. I'm weird because I like to give hugs to show someone I care, but others only do that with boyfriends and girlfriends. A ****** like me might have a fairytale land of their own, where fairies, mermaids and unicorns live. I have a fairytale land of my own, full of candy canes and gumdrops, fairies, mermaids and unicorns. I have a black unicorn with a green and neon yellow horn, green tail, and a neon yellow mane. His name is Lucky. His favorite snack is Skittles and, his favorite food is graham crackers. His favorite drink is strawberry milk. We have dinner under my tree full of hearts. I'm weird because all that I just said is childish, but I don't care. A ****** like me might rather read a good book than watch television. A ****** like me might have twenty pair of nerd glasses and five snapbacks. A ****** like me might not wear dresses, skirts, or shorts. A ****** like me might write books and poems.A ****** like me might fall on purpose to make someone laugh. A ****** like me might like school. A ****** like me might stare into space without noticing. I do this five times a week for at least two minutes; weird right. A ****** like me may dance, sing, or look up at the sky randomly without knowing. I'm me and you're you. I'm not you and you're not me. So, please don't judge weirdo's for being who they are because they're gonna be them and you're gonna be you because that's how its suppose to be. So how weird are you? I bet it is not weirder than me.
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4
with skin of ivory that blushes at the sight of sun even when the clouds are out, i turn into a silly shade of pink with a heart that drops falls down, down, down into a rabbit hole at the sight of anything remotely shattering, gasping at little cracks on the sidewalk carefully tiptoeing around bumblebees with lungs that fill with cotton in fear of a hansel and gretel gingerbread house; lead me to the witch where i will cry and wonder, “how did i get here?” and forget about all the gumdrops in my stomach with poise that only lasts seconds in the face of spiders, they crawl into my mouth kept there until given the chance to spit them back into your face i will hold my breath and picture fields of lavender where a tanned girl spins carelessly until my tissue-paper limbs learn how to hold me up
0
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
a sorry sort of snake
They said the world tasted bitter, But I didn't know the taste Sitting on my high pedestal I hadn't found my place. They said life was pain, But I jumped right on the train The box was cold, damp Dark heat, a burning lamp Of judgment. I caught it, This sweat-soaked fever A penny for a heartless demeanor It came back, the conflict within Shivers down my skin. Why- that gifted nymph, It lurks in nails, toes, grins A flashlight on throats The world was grim. They said life was pain, But I didn't know the feel My reflected thought Held back, bitten at the heel. Wasn't I seeing gumdrops and candy ladders Pie contests and glowing lanterns Cherry soda and harmless banters Butterfly wings and hula dancers? They said life is pain, But to seek fun and games Look at oneself first Here lies change. Here lies paradise.
0
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
The World's Taste
There is a blue stain from my pajamas blotched upon the white wall from where you pushed me up against. From when your hips gridded against my thighs, a graph with linear equations that doubled and doubled and tripled. From when your fingers found the furrows inside my skin, planting seeds I am eager yet scared to see blossom. There is a blue stain from my pajamas specked upon the wall, from when our hunger was too ravenous for even the wolves I tried to suppress. From the sweat I licked off and tasted sweeter than gumdrops coated with honey. From when my legs found your waist, squeezing, Medua’s hair demolishing a man too good, too tasty. From where your palms collided with my wrists, blacks and blues and yellows shooting through closely knit pores. There is a blue stain from my pajamas splattered upon the wall, and I pass it with a smirk, feeling the presence of you. What will be our next victim, I wonder
0
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
graphing theory
Gumdrops come in many colors Yellow, orange and green My gumdrop hides his color So his feelings can’t be seen His character is charming His humor can’t be beat He’s loving, kind; a friend of mine Yet, he creates his own defeat Avoidance is an issue, Procrastination set in stone His fears are locked so deep inside He fights the world alone. I understand his silent walk My feet step in his tracks Circumstances changed the soul; True confidence we lack. When tragedies besieged him His body young in years He coped the only way he could While fighting back the tears He lost himself eventually Gave in to worldly sins But, Gumdrop has the strength of few He stood-up, once again. With work, he rose above the clan Temptation everywhere He faithfully now walks the walk Recovery he shares Sadness still surrounds him Eyes open for dark skies Preparing for the looming breach, He limits joy inside Why would he risk familiar odds? Reality is rough To avoid the possibilities, Is safer than to trust Don’t try to understand him He won’t let you in He’s had to learn the hard way He won’t get kicked, again. But I am pretty lucky, I’ve known him for so long With memories and good times and Billy Joel’s top songs I wish for him bright colors Prayers I’m always sending But Gumdrop holds the steering wheel He writes the script and ending Yep.  Gumdrop is a blessing My friend he’ll always be Can he step outside his comfort zone? I guess we’ll have to see.
0
Mar 20, 2011
Mar 20, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
Gumdrop.
Gumdrops come in many colors Yellow, orange and green My gumdrop hides his color So his feelings can’t be seen His character is charming His humor can’t be beat He’s loving, kind; a friend of mine Yet, he creates his own defeat Avoidance is an issue, Procrastination set in stone His fears are locked so deep inside He fights the world alone. I understand his silent walk My feet step in his tracks Circumstances changed the soul; True confidence we lack. When tragedies besieged him His body young in years He coped the only way he could While fighting back the tears He lost himself eventually Gave in to worldly sins But, Gumdrop has the strength of few He stood-up, once again. With work, he rose above the clan Temptation everywhere He faithfully now walks the walk Recovery he shares Sadness still surrounds him Eyes open for dark skies Preparing for the looming breach, He limits joy inside Why would he risk familiar odds? Reality is rough To avoid the possibilities, Is safer than to trust Don’t try to understand him He won’t let you in He’s had to learn the hard way He won’t get kicked, again. But I am pretty lucky, I’ve known him for so long With memories and good times and Billy Joel’s top songs I wish for him bright colors Prayers I’m always sending But Gumdrop holds the steering wheel He writes the script and ending Yep.  Gumdrop is a blessing My friend he’ll always be Can he step outside his comfort zone? I guess we’ll have to see.
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52
Diamond beads roll off my skin Sweaty hands and age old gin Sunshine pupils in candy eyes, Crying gumdrops and sugarcoated lies. Raindrops on my fingertips Poison blood on broken lips Black and blue painted thick Cheeks flushed red; a simple trick **** yourself but stay alive On your rotting soul they'll thrive. The shadows of forgotten thoughts, Who rap themselves around your heart And suffocate the breath you wished was gone Turned my sunshine into war I don't feel better anymore.
0
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
Relapse
i’d love to sugar your mouth, gumdrops a sour lipstick compared to umami tongue flickering with laughter your hands are like syrup around mine and i find it fitting to drown often infinitely into the parfait puzzle piece. “i haven’t eaten in days” i breathe on your face while we forget that the playstation whines still. “me either” your eyelash falls on my shoulder and we dine on eachother instead.
0
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
annie rexie
Gumdrops in Candyland, teardrops in soup; Tomato red, I spin my head; And jump now through the hoop. In the rain I walked, in the rain we kissed; Paper hats, playful chats; Forgetting what I missed. Forethought for me, an afternoon with you; Flick the light, to day from night, More love, your love, I do.
0
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 10:06 PM UTC
Passive Love
Your my anatomy antidote. Mentor, a friend to the broken. You know I'm not a prodigy. But honestly you've always believed in me. In perfect peacei dream of the secrets in store. At utopia door. I wish I could sneek. To this place of harmony. In a waterfall in a rainbow. There are gumdrops. And Beauty. So much love. Walking in a fog of colors. Chorus Your sending me to the promise land sending me and someday I'll see water change to alchol. The miracle man healing the blinded. Walking on water is no challenge in the promise land. Ohh the promise land. Flowing out comes a river of milk. Spreading trees with trinkling honey. Dripping in cinnamon. There are sins cast down. In the mist of the ocean. As the blue tide comes in it washes them all away.Forgiven and forgotten are our past mistakes. Here Emotions. settle and don't rot in the sun. The ocean is full of water you breathe under. And there are no bugs. Only the ones that benefit us by fluttering by with vibrant wings. This is my mission to touch this utupia that many have called heaven. At the gate of destiny. Chorus Your sending me to the promise land sending me and someday I'll see water change to alchol. The miracle man healing the blinded. Walking on water is no challenge in the promise land. Ohh the promise land. Flowing out comes a river of milk. Spreading trees with trinkling honey. Dripping in cinnamon. They call this place magic with grace. And theres a canal filled with unfamous greats. Anyone can swim in just for enjoyment. Lifes great cause here it lasts forever, never ending. .And there's no disease that sends you to the grave. And when he gave his life away. He gained the world it's victory. Because. Of this humble servant I can honestly say I believe. I believe. Beleive i am saved. When he bled on the cross. He took my heart and mended it into clay. So he could mold a perfect being. Out of sinful me. Beautiful flawed l. Chorus Onward we walk. Together we stand. Forward we soar to the promise land We lift our swords to slay the beasts that live here in this human air. And on the beach we will dance a soldiers victory prance. From here you can Look at the sky. Feel the heat on your skin. Hold the sand just to watch it slip. Stare near the clouds see the gulls float. With perfect unity they land in unison. Reminding me that there's is even better above the clouds and in the heavans.
0
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 6:00 PM UTC
Promise land
Your my anatomy antidote. Mentor, a friend to the broken. You know I'm not a prodigy. But honestly you've always believed in me. In perfect peacei dream of the secrets in store. At utopia door. I wish I could sneek. To this place of harmony. In a waterfall in a rainbow. There are gumdrops. And Beauty. So much love. Walking in a fog of colors. Chorus Your sending me to the promise land sending me and someday I'll see water change to alchol. The miracle man healing the blinded. Walking on water is no challenge in the promise land. Ohh the promise land. Flowing out comes a river of milk. Spreading trees with trinkling honey. Dripping in cinnamon. There are sins cast down. In the mist of the ocean. As the blue tide comes in it washes them all away.Forgiven and forgotten are our past mistakes. Here Emotions. settle and don't rot in the sun. The ocean is full of water you breathe under. And there are no bugs. Only the ones that benefit us by fluttering by with vibrant wings. This is my mission to touch this utupia that many have called heaven. At the gate of destiny. Chorus Your sending me to the promise land sending me and someday I'll see water change to alchol. The miracle man healing the blinded. Walking on water is no challenge in the promise land. Ohh the promise land. Flowing out comes a river of milk. Spreading trees with trinkling honey. Dripping in cinnamon. They call this place magic with grace. And theres a canal filled with unfamous greats. Anyone can swim in just for enjoyment. Lifes great cause here it lasts forever, never ending. .And there's no disease that sends you to the grave. And when he gave his life away. He gained the world it's victory. Because. Of this humble servant I can honestly say I believe. I believe. Beleive i am saved. When he bled on the cross. He took my heart and mended it into clay. So he could mold a perfect being. Out of sinful me. Beautiful flawed l. Chorus Onward we walk. Together we stand. Forward we soar to the promise land We lift our swords to slay the beasts that live here in this human air. And on the beach we will dance a soldiers victory prance. From here you can Look at the sky. Feel the heat on your skin. Hold the sand just to watch it slip. Stare near the clouds see the gulls float. With perfect unity they land in unison. Reminding me that there's is even better above the clouds and in the heavans.
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5
(when I forget to take my pills) everything round becomes a gunshot, a bullet your freckles fall off one by one and shoot down the road towards me ( as fast as bullets go still I never can catch them) I can never paste your freckles to my face of everything I want to put my mouth on, kiss, then never touch again pillows shrink to the size of gumdrops ( I will never sleep again) and I swallow them, cushion my heart say it is okay baby baby soul baby arteries everyone hurts when the pupils still have to grow it takes time to snow, to become quiet.
0
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
gunfire
She was Different, just a little In school the Kids would taunt To escape the Pain she, Went To the Medicine Cabinet Robitussin, Oxycodone or, Whatever she could find For the Taunts on the Internet To Stop What's on her mind As the taunts went by Twitter All she had, was nothing but grief To the Medicine cabinet she went Searching for her only Relief Soon she found a guy, who would Tie her off, and cook the Spoon For a good blow job he..... Would keep her from the gloom The scream of the Sirens Sliced like a Knife, And Flashing red and blue Lights Cut through the Night, The EMT's rushed with urgent Speed, This young girl was in need, they checked For the pulse of a heart now stopped..... Its not all Lolipops and Gumdrops All the Work here is licensed under the Name ®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
It's not All Lolipops and Gumdrops
Your first love is meant to be sweet Gumdrops Bubblegum shared chocolates and giggles Texting late into the night, long after we were meant to go to bed Your heart skipping a beat when a notification from That Person appears Holding hands Sharing popcorn knowing each other's favorite snacks Your first love is meant to be gentle making snow angels pillow fights watching your favorite movies stolen kisses and fumbling through your first makeout session together like the love-drunk kids you are Sometimes when I tell people about the things that defined our love They get scared They ask if I'm okay They wonder why I stuck around I guess when it's your first love, you can't tell that it's painfully sour because you've never tasted something sweet before From C.C.
0
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
Sweet as Candy
she tastes like cinnamon gum i want to inhale her smell honey, you are sweeter than before she smells like cherry pie her sharp breath against my red lipstick her green eyes like gumdrops on a hot summer day she is my gingerbread fantasy warm to my touch (b.d.s.)
0
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
gingerbread houses
Don't be afraid, Don't hold a grudge Just ease back your fears And smile. Look at a young child and wonder what makes them smile, Lollipops, Gumdrops, Butterfly's? Chocolate, Rainbows, Blue sky's? What makes you smile? Sun sets, Sun rise, Blue sky's? Roses, Noses Kisses, love? A Fairy Tale, A happy ending, A white dove? Bring the things that you have that your already smiling at. Family. Friends. Children. Mom. Dad. Shelter. Food. Money. Growth. Comfort Love. Just relax. And Smile.
0
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 5:08 AM UTC
Smile
the boy I am sitting cross-legged in front of shares the same bruises as me and we create new ones on each other, swelling like sweet gumdrops or ripe fruit. his hands mold me into a mulberry – I bleed sugar and water and sap. I close my eyes so that it can be a surprise, the stains I will wear for weeks. we have loved so hard since we met, we created puncture wounds into each other ****** the salt out then bandaged each other up and smiled at the soreness. the togetherness of it all, opening ourselves up so that the other can love our insides, too. his is the burn of incense with the silk of warm milk, and I am laying down in the happiest ache from him knowing we wear our skin down until it is so thin that we can't help but feel all of one another.
0
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 3:09 AM UTC
mulberry skin
psychic infantile bopping play silent drum kits in ear canals. screeching like whales in caverns of sea and stalagmites. servantile shrapnel leaking into abyss: feeding on skin and bones, parasitically. eating through biting cries, viciously. gumdrops streaking sidewalk in musical rhythm stain glass windows and blurry red eyed sun high in the sky shines down crystalline tear drops over your singularly secular shadow.
0
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 3:45 AM UTC
Something about the Smithsonian
Huffah! Rise up! Today a new day So glamorous So grand and gay That each passing of tree frogs shall Slither Spoil and spit My naked toes never touch ground Or do they? My flitting flee turns heads around Upside-down I bemuse continually Continue to follow through Weightless in flight In plight Black-tailed hawks soar shrivingly with might I gather and twirl and spill Arms afloat and fingers outstretched I greet the world Hello! Lovely lures linger in my spine Ascend to my neck only to Explode with confetti out of my ramby ringing ears Explode with laughter! Such yippity yap cannot view Such vague heights They don't catch me I spill thrice with slender legs ahooved We all come crashing down I give a smile Take a frown Such grace and beauty An epiphany to some An engagement to all Bliss meets ground in the fall It rains colors Tickling tiny eyelashes Clickety-click I blink! Oh woe! How my soreness traps all reds! Shades of yellow Shades of gold orange brown Teet and totter Only to divide and conquer My fellow Autumn leaves as Autumn comes For I make no rule away Grass grasps and clings Leaves no trace but in my hair How it curls and shines with flings! I lick the sweetness of blue Gumdrops begone I beg of you Clamber to my lips I kiss the sweetness in pips Of more than two
0
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
Blissful Ramble
Gave me a locket with your name inscribed there are little rubies on the side, a white gem in the center and it lays right across the ******* you ****** slow in my bedroom’s night. The moon came through the lace curtains, you came inside me. Both looked like a shadow against the walls of something smooth, untouched, virginal. It was Christmastime but I was not cold when you slipped my ******* off: felt like I had warm eggnog swimming around in my belly and your handprints on my bottom was holly wrapped around the tree, your ****** hair mistletoe hanging. This locket says your name, it says that I kissed you and you kissed me. It says before winter could end, I knew you tasted like cinnamon and you knew I come like vanilla gumdrops.
0
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
christmas present
hello, sweetheart in the lightbluejeans, what’re you thinking of whatever happened to gumdrops and thankyou notes and long skirts that say ‘I am a forward thinking woman’ how your eyebrows in self-photograph are the spitting image of your grandma’s and how she never had a funeral and neither did you, but you’re shit-sure not living anymore, not since the world-bruise and the ankle-bruise and your protruding soul-bruise (your soul is in your hip bones; it bangs on the doorframe when you walk into the kitchen every time) you don’t remember the year but there was one when you knew it all would be beautiful for you how could it not back up to that long-gone January. that evening in your best friend’s car when you choked on the phone that it physically hurt to listen to the sharp voices no matter what, but especially when you knew what you knew and you ******* knew what you knew and you couldn’t forget not that January not that May, when you told him you’d decided to be better not that December, when you told somebody else not ever—you were better but you wouldn’t forget not ever you set your course on what you didn’t know—what you didn’t know would never, never hurt you, and your best friend said go. he said do what you love he said no one loved like you and you had a smile and a way with words and the world deserved you and your big, big love you were full of love you were love and then he left—your big love wasn’t the kind he needed and you survived, but a little less wholeheartedly because you were missing a little bit of it and you saw that sharing the whole thing was what everyone said it was after all you were a little smaller the next time when somebody else told you what you were—beautiful and big and worthwhile—so many times that you said what the hell and you kissed him and he took that kiss and turned it into red red red wine and you had no heart to tell him you preferred white; he had you already you had him already and no one would go un- bloodied and what do you love? your best friend that day assumed you had an answer—so did you but what the hell was it, you ask through the vodka-fog what do you love? do you? and now what’re you thinking of, honey how the next one and the next and the sunglasses future is cracking summer ice, not stone, and you’ll kiss but not say iloveyou it will be misty and gray for you you’ll plan on only what you know in sweatshirts and quilts and you’ll shut the shades and even this January not forget not since the world-bruise and your own
0
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
No Story
hello, sweetheart in the lightbluejeans, what’re you thinking of whatever happened to gumdrops and thankyou notes and long skirts that say ‘I am a forward thinking woman’ how your eyebrows in self-photograph are the spitting image of your grandma’s and how she never had a funeral and neither did you, but you’re shit-sure not living anymore, not since the world-bruise and the ankle-bruise and your protruding soul-bruise (your soul is in your hip bones; it bangs on the doorframe when you walk into the kitchen every time) you don’t remember the year but there was one when you knew it all would be beautiful for you how could it not back up to that long-gone January. that evening in your best friend’s car when you choked on the phone that it physically hurt to listen to the sharp voices no matter what, but especially when you knew what you knew and you ******* knew what you knew and you couldn’t forget not that January not that May, when you told him you’d decided to be better not that December, when you told somebody else not ever—you were better but you wouldn’t forget not ever you set your course on what you didn’t know—what you didn’t know would never, never hurt you, and your best friend said go. he said do what you love he said no one loved like you and you had a smile and a way with words and the world deserved you and your big, big love you were full of love you were love and then he left—your big love wasn’t the kind he needed and you survived, but a little less wholeheartedly because you were missing a little bit of it and you saw that sharing the whole thing was what everyone said it was after all you were a little smaller the next time when somebody else told you what you were—beautiful and big and worthwhile—so many times that you said what the hell and you kissed him and he took that kiss and turned it into red red red wine and you had no heart to tell him you preferred white; he had you already you had him already and no one would go un- bloodied and what do you love? your best friend that day assumed you had an answer—so did you but what the hell was it, you ask through the vodka-fog what do you love? do you? and now what’re you thinking of, honey how the next one and the next and the sunglasses future is cracking summer ice, not stone, and you’ll kiss but not say iloveyou it will be misty and gray for you you’ll plan on only what you know in sweatshirts and quilts and you’ll shut the shades and even this January not forget not since the world-bruise and your own
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I stand on the gleaming rocks and gaze out toward the pond. I've been coming here for years now, ever since I could throw bread crusts to the mallards without screaming and running away. Across the lake are mansions dripping with frosting and gumdrops, but their pretention gets no heed. I dream of inhabiting the island between us that measures about six steps wide and just as far long. There's a "no boating, no fishing, no swimming" sign to my left, so I don't know how the dilapidated shack sits between two steps and four, but I want to sit there forever and stare back at the people who stand on the gleaming rocks and stare out at me and don't run away from the shrieking mallards or the East Eggers on their gingerbread balconies who rock back on their heels and laugh at the show as birds rip open their sandwiches then turn to top off their schnappes. I'd pay attention to that island, though. I think it's made of breadcrumbs. I don't own a boat, fishing is useless, and I'm too afraid to break the rules. So I let the waves lap my feet and convince myself that I'll come back and do the deed at sundown, even though I know I won't.
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Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:47 PM UTC
Duck Island
Feed the people, feed them the forsaken fruit. Shove the sugary sweets, frosted with sugar coated frosting and a cherry on top, down their unsuspecting throats. Top it all off with a bed time story, about gumdrops and rainbows. Then retreat to the catacombs, where you, like all the others before you, will die. Famous for nothing, but ******* an unsuspecting country, you'll die a hero.
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
Feed The People
I'm laying in the ruins of my own new lifestyle. Tipped over bottles of ***** aside, I still feel okay. I wonder if the world's crusted over pedestals still condescend to me or if I have gone beyond their gaze. There are little plastic fairy tales dancing around in my head like tipsy gumdrops. What wonders shall spring from this: (the new day, the old day, the ever increasingly frequented day) except hangovers and light thoughts about how I'm handling this well, I'm handling this extremely well. Again. I still feel okay as long as there is 80 proof to wake up to.
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Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 12:43 PM UTC
*Feeling* Okay
When she was but eight And the world was kind A winter struck world Was a Snow Queen palace. City buildings of crumbled brick Under the scowl of a cumulus gaze Were castles dusted with snowflakes Like in her fairy tale book. And the knot of **** choked by the rusted iron fence Was a magical beanstalk That towered into the sky Not impaled by cold gray metal Or stifled by flakes of iron rot Nor kneeled in a final prayer Or in the last cry of a hungered beggar. When she was but ten And the world was still kind She wore her hair in pigtails That boys pulled for as she ran. And she heard giggles As she put on her new glasses to read the board And wondered what the worth of sight meant As much as any ten year old could. But the cracked, ashen sidewalk Was still a cobbled walkway Leading to an enchanted forest of gumdrops Like in her fairytale book. When she was fourteen And the world was more strange She wore her mother’s makeup And the boy with dimples smiled at her. And she tucked her glasses into her bag Even though she couldn’t see Along with her book of fairy tales Because boys didn’t like girls who were smart. When she was sixteen The world grew cold And as was the instinct of lightning to strike Was the spark of her tongue. Crumpled papers slashed with red And threats of a future looming meant nothing Because of the boy next to her in the seat of his car And the promises his smile held But as the palm of his hand slid up her thigh And she felt the lust in his soul roll off him The beat of her heart spoke trepidation But his smile reassured her and she succumbed. When she was of twenty And the world was one bleak She held close to her chest the head of a babe And rocked him gently as they cried in unison. Papers scattered on a wooden table In a room flickering with dying light Asked for more than what they implied And for more than what she could give. And in the cold light of day snow fluttered past her window, Fermented teardrops singed and bitter The walkways on which they lay just broken sidewalks The castles upon their touch crumbling to dust.
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Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
The Snow Queen
When she was but eight And the world was kind A winter struck world Was a Snow Queen palace. City buildings of crumbled brick Under the scowl of a cumulus gaze Were castles dusted with snowflakes Like in her fairy tale book. And the knot of **** choked by the rusted iron fence Was a magical beanstalk That towered into the sky Not impaled by cold gray metal Or stifled by flakes of iron rot Nor kneeled in a final prayer Or in the last cry of a hungered beggar. When she was but ten And the world was still kind She wore her hair in pigtails That boys pulled for as she ran. And she heard giggles As she put on her new glasses to read the board And wondered what the worth of sight meant As much as any ten year old could. But the cracked, ashen sidewalk Was still a cobbled walkway Leading to an enchanted forest of gumdrops Like in her fairytale book. When she was fourteen And the world was more strange She wore her mother’s makeup And the boy with dimples smiled at her. And she tucked her glasses into her bag Even though she couldn’t see Along with her book of fairy tales Because boys didn’t like girls who were smart. When she was sixteen The world grew cold And as was the instinct of lightning to strike Was the spark of her tongue. Crumpled papers slashed with red And threats of a future looming meant nothing Because of the boy next to her in the seat of his car And the promises his smile held But as the palm of his hand slid up her thigh And she felt the lust in his soul roll off him The beat of her heart spoke trepidation But his smile reassured her and she succumbed. When she was of twenty And the world was one bleak She held close to her chest the head of a babe And rocked him gently as they cried in unison. Papers scattered on a wooden table In a room flickering with dying light Asked for more than what they implied And for more than what she could give. And in the cold light of day snow fluttered past her window, Fermented teardrops singed and bitter The walkways on which they lay just broken sidewalks The castles upon their touch crumbling to dust.
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