Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"halve" poems
When, how or where we are born Matters in which we have no choice… and Dying is something we do All alone… At the appointed time... In the when and the why of the thing, We may or may not Have a voice But it is these Hard and Wonder-full Seconds… Minutes… Hours… Days… Between The moment we’re born And The moment we die This accumulation of lessons and experiences Known as Life These are the moments To make a difference! To share smiles and tears To halve our worries To help shoulder our loads To make lighter The Moments of Strife Don’t give me flowers When I am dead Give me my flowers Now And don’t be heart-broken When I leave If in your heart When I arrive There is no smile Don’t “fall out” or swoon... or Hug my casket and wail Rent your clothes... and with ash, Your head, Anoint Because If you have the chance to be loving Right now But do not… Could be supportive Right now But choose to not… Beloved You’re missing the point... I’ve got nothing but love And will love just as much And for just as long As allowed… So don’t give me flowers when I am dead Give me my flowers Now
0
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
Give Me My Flowers Now
What better human quality than generosity? They say sharing is caring, who could disagree? Sharing bread, sharing bed, sharing deep intimacy Sharing souls, sharing hearts, sharing vulnerability But a world without sharing is a world that stopped caring Without care, love will fade and cause lack of compassion Division of humankind, is what causes war of nations Borders are border line, they impede freedom of roaming Don’t you think it’s absurd how people will decide How much they’ll share with you, How much they’ll care for you Depending on where you’re born or you reside Whilst the truth is that we share - the same entire planet Borders caused our division - and used us all as puppets To get richer and be better than those outside our borders Made us greedy, made us needy to increase our own possessions Some might think sharing means - losing parts of what is yours But where true love persists - all that is mine is also yours Sharing doesn’t halve happiness; you’ll see it multiplies it Possession is what grows greed and the bad weeds that surround it
0
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 5:26 PM UTC
Sharing is Caring
Glowing bright in the dark is the moon the half of the sun! The sun from the heavenly blue colour in the midday rose to bear the light and basks into the other half of the night. Goodness knows when but God willing the ancient bird of time once will fly. Numbering the numberless stars filling the one halve the half of the sky! Maybe each star is a shining piece of one half cut halve that's yet to reunite. As the cream always rises to the top and God promised the believers paradise. Perhaps then without cutting in a fraction, once paradise is packed with the folks of the good ones there will be no more partial decimals of the pi! I wonder then how will it look, a full moon picture? If then the forever intact paradise lends a mirror of the ‘immanent feminine’ In Shaa Allah God willing that will still be my better half!
0
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
The Better Half
Go out to the tarmac shove a pig into dirt Listen to the squeal make sure it hurt Hogtie'em smack'em on the *** into the van collect'em off the street and can them in the tan Ford Transit then we off to the chop shop The ****** butchers gonna cut some cop Drag them up feet first arms tied to the side Hang em up to dry over a reservoir for the gore Cut the cartery artery while they cry no more Whats it all for, whats it all for, a long pig cookout A hairless goat bled out now its time to get guts out Bleed slows to a drip time to take a head simply twist Off it comes like pop easy as a ******* croptop Get your blade nice and sharpish cuz next on the list Is skinning a cop shave off fuzz into the slop Then drag a knife from the plexus to the **** Tie off the **** and yank the excess its painless **** up and you can try again pick another off the herd Cut up again and again plenty of pork to slaughter Almost ready for the grill party just gotta get meat ready Detach arms, halve and quarter, keep your hands steady Time to get out the coriander and chili powder Hammer with a tenderizer on the counter Cuts of steaks without any guilt, all free range As I bite into a roast I make a toast to my rage That made this deranged cookout, pig liver on toast With some grits and cornbread as the feds approach Hundred cops'll will roll on the grillmaster Hundred shots out swiss cheesed by the ******** Read in the paper a monster cop killer Killed for fighting the terror with terror
0
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC
Grill Party
Go out to the tarmac shove a pig into dirt Listen to the squeal make sure it hurt Hogtie'em smack'em on the *** into the van collect'em off the street and can them in the tan Ford Transit then we off to the chop shop The ****** butchers gonna cut some cop Drag them up feet first arms tied to the side Hang em up to dry over a reservoir for the gore Cut the cartery artery while they cry no more Whats it all for, whats it all for, a long pig cookout A hairless goat bled out now its time to get guts out Bleed slows to a drip time to take a head simply twist Off it comes like pop easy as a ******* croptop Get your blade nice and sharpish cuz next on the list Is skinning a cop shave off fuzz into the slop Then drag a knife from the plexus to the **** Tie off the **** and yank the excess its painless **** up and you can try again pick another off the herd Cut up again and again plenty of pork to slaughter Almost ready for the grill party just gotta get meat ready Detach arms, halve and quarter, keep your hands steady Time to get out the coriander and chili powder Hammer with a tenderizer on the counter Cuts of steaks without any guilt, all free range As I bite into a roast I make a toast to my rage That made this deranged cookout, pig liver on toast With some grits and cornbread as the feds approach Hundred cops'll will roll on the grillmaster Hundred shots out swiss cheesed by the ******** Read in the paper a monster cop killer Killed for fighting the terror with terror
Continue reading...
31
I know we won't replace, The vacant hole you once embraced, Our hearts were full and solid gold, Now there’s sadness and bitter cold, You gave us love, you gave us time, Beside us through every fall and climb, Words can never explain the tears, We cry now for the wasted years… …years… …years… The many times we had laughed, The emptiness can’t hope to halve, And yet I can’t help but reflect upon, The days and weeks and times; long gone, But in my memory, that secret place, Is the joy and magic I can trace, Those times that only I can share, With you, myself – a connection so rare… …rare… …rare… Though now your soul is far away, We’ll have thoughts of you each passing day, Of superman at Christmas and Guinness for a saint, The scolding of Tim Henman, that passionate complaint, The stories of Las Vegas, and of the times we shared in France, Will light up all our broken hearts and the mind can have its dance, You were a special lady, we don’t want to release, But I know that you are with us and your body is at peace… …peace… …peace… (This poem was written in memory of my Nan, An Cronin. R.I.P.)
0
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:52 AM UTC
Peace
glows a rose nearby the dandelion compete for petunia to grow near her; in the harsh of daylight, swinging and proud both, two sides to the coin, beauty and beast, flower and **** as we all do halve. competition in the garden, in recreation, or reproducing, reseeding, repopulating, a woman, sees in glory the flower. I wither. the ****
0
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
**** and flower
You smell like rain kissing dry earth. Your magnificent torso rises over buttocks I want to sculpt. Your skin is softer than cocoa butter and I am lost. In your eyes, I see stories. In your taste, I forget. The rhythm of your heartbeat lulls me to safety. But will you stay to steep the tea? Or halve my pills? Everywhere is mulch and moss. And fog and despair. But I come back to the smell of rain. And wait for the sun to shine.
0
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
Enyoranca, catalan: n. a state of longing
WAS it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: "There is a waterfall Upon Ben Bulben side That all my childhood counted dear; Were I to travel far and wide I could not find a thing so dear.' My memories had magnified So many times childish delight. I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild. Even accusing Heaven because It had set down among its laws: Nothing that we love over-much Is ponderable to our touch. I dreamed towards break of day, The cold blown spray in my nostril. But she that beside me lay Had watched in bitterer sleep The marvellous stag of Arthur, That lofty white stag, leap From mountain steep to steep.
0
2k
Towards Break Of Day
Man enters the tavern                             Claps down some cash and outbursts ;                                                        'Thirsty Things Firstly !' The barman evaluates his condition       And provides a session brew Man tilts toward potential company (a ferrety bloke in the shadows) "Pull up that stack of milk crates                          And halve a heart with me" (he earns a quick friend                                                in a tolerant stranger) Soon fellow gaspers fill out the gloom And an eve of humour descends Though soon upending Gourds downed the gullet Sunk ugly into the scene The tippling wit drags the night               to the Slurry Pit things turn Psychologically Rugged his Mates soon round on him bulldozing at the Elbows saying he's a Cheapskate they Berate him with rigorous Rattleprat he's been goated with the Cain's mark they tousle his crown malicious Thorough in his cups and eaves he mumbles and leaves heaving up bile words unheard               gurgle over his shoulder outside is dark and harsh Outside the whole wild world does wail and weary drunkenly he sings to match its melancholy but sadness lifts with his altered view he sees 'a flock of moons' weigh down the sky and natures churn                                                          makes a phosphorescent stew of it all ... decay                                          to lifes' celebration
0
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 9:04 PM UTC
a Flock of Moons (decay to life II)
Man enters the tavern                             Claps down some cash and outbursts ;                                                        'Thirsty Things Firstly !' The barman evaluates his condition       And provides a session brew Man tilts toward potential company (a ferrety bloke in the shadows) "Pull up that stack of milk crates                          And halve a heart with me" (he earns a quick friend                                                in a tolerant stranger) Soon fellow gaspers fill out the gloom And an eve of humour descends Though soon upending Gourds downed the gullet Sunk ugly into the scene The tippling wit drags the night               to the Slurry Pit things turn Psychologically Rugged his Mates soon round on him bulldozing at the Elbows saying he's a Cheapskate they Berate him with rigorous Rattleprat he's been goated with the Cain's mark they tousle his crown malicious Thorough in his cups and eaves he mumbles and leaves heaving up bile words unheard               gurgle over his shoulder outside is dark and harsh Outside the whole wild world does wail and weary drunkenly he sings to match its melancholy but sadness lifts with his altered view he sees 'a flock of moons' weigh down the sky and natures churn                                                          makes a phosphorescent stew of it all ... decay                                          to lifes' celebration
Continue reading...
43
I halve the flesh for leaf And regret and retreat This is Divinity; seize What words He gives And you are a Soul And will never cease Milky Novae, a ****** reborn when you end breathing Genesis, Revelations Endocrines endocrines.   Or molecules that sin Tithe the seed, breede; bleed Hatred and war From digesting protein My body For the remembrance of me
0
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
Lystery
Stamped, I said; don't you dare let go of my hand. Until the day my breath and your hair turn silver. Holding my jugular, I let you watch me undress daily My love for you was bulletproof, but you're the one who shot me What you don't know, is you missed the cavity I romanticised the cocking and pulling nightly, murdering beauty. I ran away from home, to sleep in a manger I ran from a man, a man I never knew Same genes, same jeans. Denim was my choice, and yours. Rotten, like and old pair. Chromosomes. I lay on your thick neck The weight of a field mouse, tiny bones, pulled, curled in the straw, invisible to everyone but you Your shoes always faced upwards Walking the line where the barbed wire tore your chest Your heart was a runway, our family horse, chocks away Twelve stitches, those same twelve stitches in my mother's neck, at twelve years old, Twelve years on and it's taking thirteen to heal I learnt how to pick locks at eight years old, A lost boy in the body of a girl, skin of a thistle, no **** Purple and armoured A chameleon soul, belonging to no one No compass due north, a ***** needle She said; 'Baby, you're like cyanide, and I liked you for that.' I believe in madness Holding your breath for sixty seconds, because you can Like a bird flying into a windscreen voluntarily Throw me into it, If i'm going, i'm going, Pull me down harder, bind my ankles to make a tail Hit me harder, hit me until I find it acceptable to hit back, No halves, of the halves that halve us in half I'm all
0
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
***** Needle
Stamped, I said; don't you dare let go of my hand. Until the day my breath and your hair turn silver. Holding my jugular, I let you watch me undress daily My love for you was bulletproof, but you're the one who shot me What you don't know, is you missed the cavity I romanticised the cocking and pulling nightly, murdering beauty. I ran away from home, to sleep in a manger I ran from a man, a man I never knew Same genes, same jeans. Denim was my choice, and yours. Rotten, like and old pair. Chromosomes. I lay on your thick neck The weight of a field mouse, tiny bones, pulled, curled in the straw, invisible to everyone but you Your shoes always faced upwards Walking the line where the barbed wire tore your chest Your heart was a runway, our family horse, chocks away Twelve stitches, those same twelve stitches in my mother's neck, at twelve years old, Twelve years on and it's taking thirteen to heal I learnt how to pick locks at eight years old, A lost boy in the body of a girl, skin of a thistle, no **** Purple and armoured A chameleon soul, belonging to no one No compass due north, a ***** needle She said; 'Baby, you're like cyanide, and I liked you for that.' I believe in madness Holding your breath for sixty seconds, because you can Like a bird flying into a windscreen voluntarily Throw me into it, If i'm going, i'm going, Pull me down harder, bind my ankles to make a tail Hit me harder, hit me until I find it acceptable to hit back, No halves, of the halves that halve us in half I'm all
Continue reading...
32
Into the blender- Pineapple juice, half a carton Ice, a handful Coconut cream, a well shaken tin Bacardi, a goodly dollop Justine says I should add half an eggwhite For the froth But how the hell do you halve an egg white So I leave it out. A few seconds unholy racket And it’s ready to pour Into my favourite thick heavy glass Put the pitcher in the fridge And take on impulse. ****** good Brings back a tiled balcony in Puerto Vallarta A small boy wearing an iguana Tricia Lambert
0
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
PINA COLADA
It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck. I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation. “You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion. I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before. Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike. Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.” OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could **** he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie. By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed. In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.” I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.
0
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 4:00 PM UTC
pressure
It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck. I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation. “You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion. I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before. Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike. Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.” OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could **** he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie. By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed. In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.” I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.
Continue reading...
10
I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it's the halves that halve you in half. I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me. I do not know the technical name for this poem, nor did I right it. It is read aloud by the character Anna in the movie Like Crazy, so the credit for this poem I suppose, is due to the writer of the movie script. I think it is absolutely beautiful and hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
0
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
It.
Salina The Nomad arrived Cold, windy Waiting on a ride. Nine hours later Waiting like a gator Lynda arrived, Train wreck, heart ❤ ache, The Knight decided to ride. Belly of the Beast. The gangstA *** forward, So all could survive. Minues to halve, Hours to days,. Played, lonely moonless nights, The Traveler prayed. And the Yellow Brick Road opened With the sound of a laugh, Oz came into being, When Mona Lisa smiled....
0
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
MONA LISA'S SMILE
*"I thought I understood it That I could grasp it But I didn’t Not really I knew the smudgeness of it The pink-slippered-all-containered-semi-precious eagerness of it I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole The wholeness was a rather luxurious idea Because its the halves that halve you in half Didn’t know Don’t know about the in between bits The gore-y bits of you And gore-y bits of me"* -Anna from Like Crazy
0
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
A Poem That i Love
get this cold take it inside feed it to those you are traveling with through this space. tell them love is a glacier it endures and is not remembered. halve the cold minute. nurture it and then set it free. in its absence the warm will return. a tiding a small child who laughs at the bitterness of the crime you hold. a song to be rehearsed a misstep to be forgiven.
0
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
cold
One day Luke walked to an ice show But was quickly lost and looked around He saw a guy who started to mow Blades ripping the grass being cut down In terror as it held the ground so tight Little farther down the road A beautiful girl was standing there He asked for help which she bestowed Sophia felt great with her loving care As they walked together with the sun so bright Soon they sat with each other at the ice rink Luke with his way with words Made her blush with cheeks so pink With the sweet songs composed by birds Their love went to a whole new height After years of compassionate dating Sophia began to feel a bit wary She for too long halve  been waiting Until finally he got down ready to marry And she said yes as she started to cry Later that month at the city hall Luke and Sophia said their vow The love they shared stood so tall As the two would be together forever now And live their life as each day go by Soon they had a girl named Lily Once Luke had to watch her on his behalf So he acted foolish and silly Just so he can hear her beautiful laugh He did everything his mom would apply A decade later in the midst of the sun Lily came across a snake during the tour Luke confronted the snake and won Afterwards Luke told her he would endure Anything that would harm her he consign As Lily and her parents grew older Sophia goes to the hospital and receives a terrible answer Lily begins to cry on her dad's shoulder As she finds out her mom has cancer Luke calmly tells her everything will be fine Miraculously Sophia beats the disease As she fought hard in the long combat All three of them can live life in ease They sing in harmony while darkness grew flat And their love was the most divine But the sad truth is this was just a dream As Luke awoke to start the day He got ready for the ice show theme This year was dress like a cast away So he put on his best and now was set As he walked to the ice show He started to think it was deja vu He saw the same guy starting to mow Grass shredded like his life and dreams spew Luke was alone and wish he could reset He sees Sophia but unexpectedly receives a text Luke checks it as he walks past her He sits at the ice show uncertain what to do next And now life for Luke is just a blur Take every chance at love you get
0
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
The Unimaginable Two
One day Luke walked to an ice show But was quickly lost and looked around He saw a guy who started to mow Blades ripping the grass being cut down In terror as it held the ground so tight Little farther down the road A beautiful girl was standing there He asked for help which she bestowed Sophia felt great with her loving care As they walked together with the sun so bright Soon they sat with each other at the ice rink Luke with his way with words Made her blush with cheeks so pink With the sweet songs composed by birds Their love went to a whole new height After years of compassionate dating Sophia began to feel a bit wary She for too long halve  been waiting Until finally he got down ready to marry And she said yes as she started to cry Later that month at the city hall Luke and Sophia said their vow The love they shared stood so tall As the two would be together forever now And live their life as each day go by Soon they had a girl named Lily Once Luke had to watch her on his behalf So he acted foolish and silly Just so he can hear her beautiful laugh He did everything his mom would apply A decade later in the midst of the sun Lily came across a snake during the tour Luke confronted the snake and won Afterwards Luke told her he would endure Anything that would harm her he consign As Lily and her parents grew older Sophia goes to the hospital and receives a terrible answer Lily begins to cry on her dad's shoulder As she finds out her mom has cancer Luke calmly tells her everything will be fine Miraculously Sophia beats the disease As she fought hard in the long combat All three of them can live life in ease They sing in harmony while darkness grew flat And their love was the most divine But the sad truth is this was just a dream As Luke awoke to start the day He got ready for the ice show theme This year was dress like a cast away So he put on his best and now was set As he walked to the ice show He started to think it was deja vu He saw the same guy starting to mow Grass shredded like his life and dreams spew Luke was alone and wish he could reset He sees Sophia but unexpectedly receives a text Luke checks it as he walks past her He sits at the ice show uncertain what to do next And now life for Luke is just a blur Take every chance at love you get
Continue reading...
60
Ups and downs Ups and downs Ups and downs We had so many grounds To not enjoy what we had We used to be so mad But now it’s all over The year should had go slower We miss what we had We cry because we are so sad It’s gone All the joy and fun Enjoy what you have Maybe it will be halve It will never come back The life will give you a smack But there is Ups and downs Ups and downs Ups and downs We had so many grounds Now I see what it was But we couldn’t see it cause We thought it would last forever But now I am cleaver I will love all I have now I will balance on the life’s bough I know how it fells to lose I must be strong like Robinson Crusoe Enjoy what you have Maybe it will be halve It will never come back The life will give you a smack But there is Ups and downs Ups and downs Ups and downs
0
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
ups and downs
I thought I’d teach them some looking. the well’s bucket I was careful to quietly lower. I meant to halve the rope with my tied legs and arms, to bewilder it with hugging. I saw myself do it twice before I gave three. the dark above me seemed jealous of the dark below; my long hair took on a glitter of crickets but would not be led away. I waited for my name to sound its foreign bid but instead heard only the silently local. I could see the bucket if I closed my eyes; and it, me, in my puny dress. when my feet began their sleep they were napped in by circus water. how cheered I would be for slipping. yet it was another took audience- I made the junkyard breathless; my fingers already forgetting to stay their swollen proofs. I called her name with the others, she whose own fingers had cleared the closing of a refrigerator’s door and so would not be found in a lesser hiding place alive and ******* a knuckle. I strayed to my brother’s punishment for inappropriate play- a scene with his therapist saying one can’t die from nothing. there has to be something. my brother having his hands pinned to his knees for covering his ears. his therapist wishing he were someone else and someone else him.
0
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
propria
livet passerer gennem spejlet drager parallel hudløs uærlighed, den halve sandhed vi skriver uden at tænke os om, hvorfor tidlig bustur, fastfood-køb; pludseligt indblik i en andens hverdag forbløffelse er en mærkelig størrelse en skikkelse personificerer tanken om en andens liv at føle sig tiltrukket af ideen om, at have kendt dem i en anden sammenhæng det magiske hvis bearbejdet, gennemtænkt, finpudsning et øde *** drænet for mennesker, lagt øde (ødelagt) at kultivere kulturarven ønskebarnets strabadser et savnet ord
0
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
én dag, en tanke
i met a mongol once in amsterdam, we exchanged a tearful stare and said a melancholic hello, as if we were to be brother in cement or sandstone of what the sun rememebred and man forgot but nonetheless carved for enshadowed suave of the shadowing hand on hand upon handed down remnant of the handless kanji... the motherless thus tongueless river of sight utilising hand and hand as sophistication of spying thanks to the hands’ shadows: thus no shadow tongue unless that shadow be thought or the abstract off thought: pre-meditation and the subsequent minded courtsey as requested of the blank page or the buddha’s slitted eyes faking intoxication by western standards of that green plant the mongols despise: and western societies fare to tax and thus exploit. and it would be easiest to withhold making talks with the slavs by compensation of the northern-most mosque being established as true progression... but then having insulated the slavs who are "primarily" plumbers and electricians to make any dent in the politics of the other monotheists... where the european excludes the european from europe there you will see war as encouraging the asian or the arab... there you will see war, should a european exclude european from europe there you will see war caucausian againts the rooster against the morn! TAR TAR! TAR TAR! TAR! TAR! (in japanese tora tora tora!) because you did not cherish our shared values thus become devalued therefore value your integral anti-economic evaluations that have no place in my land but concern of keeping brown in the noun and not in the verb of racism and sun; i've become a barabbas among you, you messiahs, you messiah selfies and messiah implants, what gave you the jews scorned has given me you as the "jews" scorned in your disorientation of the fathomed atom bomb already spoken of in the book of the apocalypse.... but a man ejecting an european from europe to fantacise a non-invoked colonialism will halve in carving this world in half for multi-cultarism! no pole ever spoke of colonialism to see you speak of post-colonial re-colonialisation of remote areas so ardently cared for: conquer... and subsequently fall: your sons the additive bullets: я и pоссия demand: the caucaucus tribes to fake unity with the danube fools of erected bohemia.
0
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
TATAR! TATAR! TA! TAR!
i met a mongol once in amsterdam, we exchanged a tearful stare and said a melancholic hello, as if we were to be brother in cement or sandstone of what the sun rememebred and man forgot but nonetheless carved for enshadowed suave of the shadowing hand on hand upon handed down remnant of the handless kanji... the motherless thus tongueless river of sight utilising hand and hand as sophistication of spying thanks to the hands’ shadows: thus no shadow tongue unless that shadow be thought or the abstract off thought: pre-meditation and the subsequent minded courtsey as requested of the blank page or the buddha’s slitted eyes faking intoxication by western standards of that green plant the mongols despise: and western societies fare to tax and thus exploit. and it would be easiest to withhold making talks with the slavs by compensation of the northern-most mosque being established as true progression... but then having insulated the slavs who are "primarily" plumbers and electricians to make any dent in the politics of the other monotheists... where the european excludes the european from europe there you will see war as encouraging the asian or the arab... there you will see war, should a european exclude european from europe there you will see war caucausian againts the rooster against the morn! TAR TAR! TAR TAR! TAR! TAR! (in japanese tora tora tora!) because you did not cherish our shared values thus become devalued therefore value your integral anti-economic evaluations that have no place in my land but concern of keeping brown in the noun and not in the verb of racism and sun; i've become a barabbas among you, you messiahs, you messiah selfies and messiah implants, what gave you the jews scorned has given me you as the "jews" scorned in your disorientation of the fathomed atom bomb already spoken of in the book of the apocalypse.... but a man ejecting an european from europe to fantacise a non-invoked colonialism will halve in carving this world in half for multi-cultarism! no pole ever spoke of colonialism to see you speak of post-colonial re-colonialisation of remote areas so ardently cared for: conquer... and subsequently fall: your sons the additive bullets: я и pоссия demand: the caucaucus tribes to fake unity with the danube fools of erected bohemia.
Continue reading...
37
og pludselig sidder du pakket ind i +5 dyner og burde egentlig ikke fryse, men der er så fandens koldt over det hele. laver flere liter te for at få det bedre men hælder kop efter kop ud i vasken, for bare lugten giver dig brækfornemmelser. modern family er ikke så sjovt længere og de eneste sange der får lov at spille færdigt er dem han linkede til dig. hans ******* musiksmag ramte plet hver gang. du kan ikke finde ud af om smerten mellem dine ribben er pga den halve flaske tequila du formådede at hælde ned i går eller om det bare skyldes de ord han sagde og hvor let han havde ved at droppe alt det han selv havde været med til at bygge op. du er ikke sikker på om han lagde mærke til dig da du løb gennem byen med en veninde i hånden og prøvede alt hvad du overhovedet kunne for ikke at lade ham se dig græde. du ved bare at lige nu gør det hele ondt og du tør ikke bevæge dig uden for din dør i frygt for at se dem sammen - han har jo tydeligvis ikke noget problem med at vise hende frem foran dig - end ikke på din egen fødselsdag. tillykke. du sidder i stedet i din dobbeltseng hvor jeres kroppe for første gang kolliderede. og du kan ikke slippe for det uanset hvad du gør. stryger tændstikker, for forhelvede, hvor ville det være let bare at lade det hele brænde væk. du vil bare væk. jeg vil bare så gerne væk.
0
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:52 AM UTC
Untitled
Delivering the magic at the tip of the Moon. The silken blue half-light beaming in full! Ah, let there be a gap between the one peeled halve and the unleashing other half. The vanished sun will bridge it far from the unseen pyramydon shining upon a crescent moon! It doesn’t have to be in a mo leave some rooms. Let it flow to chockablock over the running brook. Heading to the up and down ocean Let the rivers flow in all diversions. By the way, shorting it to half would do my half full glass is half full.
0
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 9:59 AM UTC
Half Full Glass is Half Full