"hel" poems
Whenevel I clied hungly,
Chhe would give me milk.
Whenevel I do not dlink it,
Chhe will tly that I dlink it.
Whenevel I am chho angly,
Chhe will tly that I dlunk it.
Whenevel chhe loshesh hope,
Chhe will look at my papa.
My daddy will only shmile,
Lift shweetly in hiz armsh.
They would then shuksheed,
Togethel they enteltain me.
They dichhtract & feed me,
Milk I lyk not chho vely hot.
Twichhe they tly & I leject,
They sing me some lhymsh.
Mom then poulsh two dlops,
On back of hel hand chhe tlies.
'Tsch! It's hot,' chhe ekchclaims,
I let out a shmall shlieky laugh.
Daddy lent hel a helping hand,
He blung a khup of cold watel.
Finally they togethel feed me,
Calefully & lovingly they do it.
Whenevel I lemembel my lisp,
I am chho happy & smile bloadly.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Benedict Arnold
We see them. Lying in the terrorist trap known as
The Uncomformers. What happened to them?
Did they say enough is enough? Stab their
Old buddies in their already turned backs? Well,
I guess some people just don’t understand….
Look at them!
They’re laughing!
How preposterous! They’re supposed to be lamenting or even just
Giving hushed whispers to someone about everyone else.
I can’t fathom—
How absurd!
The Good Girls
Ohhhhhh My Gosh! Can you like,
See how lame they are?
They just, like, don’t do anything.
I mean, I have never seen any of them at, like, any party!
Crazy! I know. They just keep to themselves,
I guess. But, I mean, come on? No parties!
Do they even know what fun is!?
Last night there was this really awesome one where,
I was dancing…..and drinking….and then I threw up in my boyfriend’s car!
Oh yeah,
Were exes now.
Anyway, I just, like, IDK.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to have the ultimate makeup and beauty?
It’s mind-blowing!
I swear their worlds are all, aerobics and songbirds.
But, whatever, you know?
Peacemaker
Talk about irritating. I hate people
Who stop fights before the crescendo finishes!
Bor-ring! Drama is what I live for.
Just let people ruin their lives already!
I’m dying for some action over here.
Hel-lo! Your “sensible justice” is causing me to have serious
Gossip underload. Stop getting in the
Way of everything! If you would just come in
One second after you usually do, there would be so
Much more to say.
It would be beyond belief if you just,
Go where you belong and stop
Interrupting before some of the most spectacular
Moments in people’s lives.
Iron King
This person is not so simple.
Loners that shield themselves from the world
Freaks that don’t want to experience reality
Maybe he’s evil
Attempting to hide a dark inheritance
Living in his mind, the Devil’s oasis
Visions of wonder and agony expressed throughout
Sending out blind waves of hatred to all who will not follow him into Hell.
Super creep.
I hope he leaves me alone.
I haven’t done anything to him…
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
Daar was g'n tyd vir bybelversies nie
, want die brood van lewe was te duur
En wie wil nou regtig wag om ring
As die manne vir jou hoogliedere sing.
Aan die begin was daar niks nie
Maar hyt gepraat met sy hande
En toe was daar lig en oh die gode
Dit was goed! Dit was goed!
Maar hy was aleen in n wereld met als
En almal was sonder naam
, toe hy sy laaste een gee en ek
Deur bloed en been vir hom geskep is.
Dit was goed, dit was goed
En ek huil snot en trane van seer
Maar die appel proe soet
Of jy hom in die hemel of die hel hap...
Jy is die fontein van lewe,
Ek drink van jou en raak dors
Vir meer as net een aand van sterrevolg.
Mag ek dronk raak op jou wyn?
Of is jy my een reeds voor!?
En ek kan.nie kerk toe hol nie
En die Bybel vloek my skel
Want jou lyf voel soos die Hemel
Maar Hy se jy is die Hel.
Mag ek langs jou bed op kniee neersak
En jou hand in myne neem??
Kom ons raak besope...
Genoeg om liefdesliede
vir mekaar te kreun.
More bid ons om vergifnis
En vergeet wat sonde is
Tot die vlees te veel begeer
En die lewenslig so bietjie blus.
Dit is *** die liefde werk,
Dis my lewe dié
Die struikelblok wat my versmoor
Van n vel religie.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
A Lone Walker nowe Ah!
Intae Theis Murky Naycht
‘Yont Whin-Rock menacin’,
Ewry Wound bygane an’ the Scar
Freish Bluid o’ mine fuelin’,
Lang, lang, IT! the Blacklyn Howr,
Unfathomable, Unearthly,
Verra Guid Fyre wearin’,
Burnan Hye! Gore o’ mine
Awa, awa, IT owre spilled!
Soil o’ Alabaster gravin’,
An’ abön, Great Orrah! a Presence yirr,
Near-hand ay flashin’,
Rumblin’, guid tremblin’,
Lyke a Rhodium-Demon Hyear
Unco! stick-an-stowe towerin’,
An’ a Mirror-Vision ay broo!
O’ Red Gore fuil an’ pruid!
Great Rowth ragin’!
Human nae, nae IT laanger!
Heyne intae Theis Skye-Mirror,
Image o’ mine! nae, nae IT laanger!
Ma Rubye Brooch Micht, och!
Stylle haiwin',
An' wae Veins o’ Deep Lowe imbued,
Ma ain stylle! Glamis’ Orrah! Dearest!
Athwart ma Solitarye Gait
Ays a Storm-Blast fallin’,
An’ wnto me! wnto me noo, IT!
O’er an’ o’er! Carham’s Scyld-Hel Orrah!
Stylle Theis Dangerus! Verra Dangerus, IT!
Highlan’ Thwndir-Rode o’ mine
Intae Theis Guid Kintra whooshin’,
An’ the nae ****** Cauld Landis Micht,
Swaird-Wounded, stylle Ironclad Ah!
Fore’er unco! wi’in Oun Hye Fyre
Thro’ nae croud strollin’,
Ays yf frae Hye Þunor His-sel
The Lone War-Whisper Weel-Gaun!
Wae Thae Verra Woirds o’ Battle-Angyr
Lewdlie! Theis Specular Bluish Fyre o’ mine!
Thus Thwndir-Taukin’:
NUNC IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
QUIA FOCUS TEMPESTATIS MODO EST TIBI
ET VEXILLA FULMINIS PRODEUNT UNIVERSI
IN FERRO CAERULEO SANGUINEQUE
AD TE PICTORUM NOCTE TETRA
ET IN SPECULO RESULTANTE FORMA
THOR GOTHORUM UBI DESCENDET LAETO
AB ULTIMA GLITNIR MAGNO MALLEO
DEUS FLAVUS QUI ALTO FERRO SECURIQUE
TONITRUO INDIGNAM VIAM MALEDIXIT
FULMINIS IGITUR TETRA UMBRA TUA
ALTA FLAMMA CALIGINEA VEXILLAQUE
SUPREMO IGNE OVERMAN ULTOR.
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 6:54 AM UTC
Die rede vir die vlamme in hel is nie om die Duiwels te martel nie, maar om ons warm te hou. Onthou ons is koudbloedig...
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 7:02 AM UTC
Och! Airn an' Thwndir!
An' Urquhart's Wae Verra Hel!
Great Warlike Glamis' Firey,
An' Hwmyd Loch Doon's Orrah!
Downe! Downe! tae thad howch owre miserable!
Ye a' swithe hame, hame! wae ma Airn ***
An' weile 'yont yondir Suthron!
Waefu', waefu' heyre Ah! War-Ironclad heyne Ȝell,
Wae burr-thistle’s Gowlin’ Storne Micht!
Frae ma verra, verra! Ah ageyne!
Tae the Cauld Enraged Wynde
Unco! intae Æternall Battle Scorchin'
Towardis Moorlan Chain Mail-Bosom o' mine!
O'er an' o'er IT! increasingly thro' Force returnin',
Wae ma verra Blacklyn Tartan o' War heyne,
An' Silvery Brooch, wi'in yondir Lone Sceadewe!
Unco! wae the Rubye Stane deep-shimmerin'
Naixt tae Carham's Gory Landis, an' the Targe-Hell,
Thro’ nowe Tune Martial, stick-an-stowe Ȝell!
Airn-Curse Core-Firey, Hye-Flamin' IT!
Heyne unco rychte Airn-Moorlan o'er ye a'!
Ah, bye nowe the FEUDAL OWAR-MANN!
'Yont thad Auld Whunstane Tower-Shrine
Togider wae Lang Titanium-Claymore, Airn-Dazzlin'
An' ne'er, ne'er, IT! stick-an-stowe tae wane!
Wi'in theis Bluish Fyre syne! Verra War-Swaird Rairan IT,
Intae Thae Hringiren Æternall, Thwndir-Devastatin' o' mine!
QVOAD FEODALE MEA CVM RVBRA SPATHA
ET RELVCENTE HOC SCVTO AC FVLMINE NIVEO
SCOTORVM INTRA HANC TEMPESTATEM MAGNAM
QVÆ FLOS IGNEVS EST TONITRVO NOMINE ALTO
NEMO GELIDO HOC LOCO IMPVNE ME LACESSIT.
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 4:42 AM UTC
Ivan had completely lost it;
Teenage Satan in town
to see his father
for money;
Eli hated this kid;
a minor prophet
in his own scene;
Hel kept a photo
of Satan stuck to
her mirror; mirrors
going out of
style & magic making
a comeback;
drinking [Ivan could've
sworn the kid was dead
it was bad news that he
showed his face at all;
Ivan would've sworn he
was dreaming: pressing
in on the scared kid,
& growling in his face:
"I watched u die in the
gutter, u rotten *******
Ivan had indeed been there
when the satanic | kid got run over
by the yellow cab driving
headlong into hell;
[Ivan's blackouts increased after that]
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
Igor & Ivan
smoked ***
before going
into the club
to see Hel's show;
a dwarf stripper
who'd started
out as a clown
in the circus,
Hel was fired for
being a *****
however, since
clown prostitution
isn't exactly illegal,
Hel quickly
bounced back
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
A red **** crows,
A ****** hound howls,
Their mistress awakes at dawn,
Comely is she,
A gorgeous bride,
When viewed from one side,
But turning around,
A hideous face,
Like a corpse that has rotted through,
Up she rises,
From the bed,
That is called by the name of Disease,
Through the Gleaming Bale,
She rises and stretches,
And dresses to meet the throng,
On her hip she straps,
Great Famine her knife,
And through the halls of Sleet-Cold she walks,
The people they rise,
And the gods there asleep,
And each takes up a great sword,
The the threshold they go,
The Pit of Stumbling,
And follow their mistress's call.
The time has come,
The dead arise,
And march along the Hel-Way.
~Muninn's Kiss, December 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
Turning all of the lights off and pretending like there's nothing due.
Conditionals, conjuncts, and disjuncts to name a few.
The condition is that my naked body has been revealed to you,
uncomfortably in the light
and confidently in the dark.
The conjunct is musky, old-timey undertones
of Sam Beam's voice.
Dr. Pepper, eventually, convinced me to be reckless
and rot my teeth, and give myself a stomach ache
for the sake of making out upstairs,
in a chair,
next to home-ade sound absorbers, made of fiber glass.
The disjunct:
deciding between two and a half hours of utter hell,
driving a broken down dust buster van in the middle of
hell's ******* half acre, chugging up frosty hills and into a town,
a foreign town,
to be greeted with, "Hel-low,"
Versus, not having to do that.
The biconditional is that I will be with you if and only if I can be with myself first.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
når jeg går forbi
storkespringvandet
og dufter
de nybagte croissanter
deres varme sødme
der fylder luften
denne søndag morgen
kan jeg høre
mit hjerte
knuse
og lyden
er altoverdøvende
så jeg drejer
rundt om hjørnet
og lader mig selv
fare vild
i københavns
snoede gader
og husker
de morgener
jeg for vild
i dine øjne
og mine
kolde hænder
møder mine
kolde læber
berører
piller
kradser
og begynder at bløde
og dråberne
er ikke alene
de er aldrig alene
tårerne falder
løber langs min
snehvide hud
falder foran mig
og går i et
med regnens pytter
og for ikke at gå i stykker
for at føle mig hel
falder jeg
sammen med
mit blod
sammen med
mine tårer
til jorden
og drukner
i en pøl
af croissanter
sort kaffe
kolde morgener
varme lagner
og tanken om
at det hele blot
er minder
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Du forstår ikke, jeg føles ikke levende.
Svævende mellem ingenting, men håbefuld for alting.
Indre kanaler af tårer og billeder.
Strømmende, flydende, men fastsiddende.
Jeg kan elske. Lykkelig, kvalt i en amourøs erotiskstorm.
Føles helt alene, med mit hule indre, vejrtrækninger som gør ondt.
Verden forsvinder i mit indre, og tunge sorte skyer fylder mig op.
Trædende på mig, liggende nede i dybet af tanker
Fæstner mig ved roden af dig. Klamrende efter dit sind.
Et sommerlykkeland. Efterårsparadis. Vinter Wonderland. Forårshimmerig.
Du redder mig, gør mig hel, men du gør mig halv, du glemmer mig.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
with shovel in hand,
I go to the back of the barn.
earth broken, I begin digging.
My heel driving into the shovel,
and tossing the remnants over my head.
As the anger subsides to a calmer demeanor,
I take a second to breathe.
sitting next to a tree fronting the purple and blue sky with scattered stars
he stares at me, not with sadness or pity,
but of curiosity.
What are you doing?
i ignore the cat and keep digging..
teeth tight against each other,
i dig until my arms are weak and
i can't see straight-- until my body trembles
Why? why do you continue to do this?
there is nothing down there for you.
looking down at my shovel, i pause and with a heavy breath;
There's nothing here for me anymore,
i gave this life a chance,
i found love-- i had dreams and i had life
i can't bare the disappointment anymore.
i'm done here
nothing satisfies me here
nothing
with hopeful intentions;
There's so much more to life than what you see before your eyes my friend
with a scowl, i look up
My time here is done, there's nothing more that i can do, i've given them everything i have
and i've gained nothing but misery, and hopelessness--
there's no sun to my moon,
my path ceases as dawn rises
i won't be a victim to life's cruel taunts anymore
a tear runs down the cat's soft face as he pities the stranger,
i begin digging again
with a brave intent, the cat speaks out of pure compassion;
I'm sorry you feel that way
if you let me hel---
with a swift movement, the digging ceases and
the shovel is thrown at the cat with lethal intent
terrified and frantic, the cat flees for his life.
after a far enough distance where the cat feels a brief sense of security,
the cat glances over his shoulder one last time with concern and worry,
only to see a black silhouette staring at the ground with a glistening speck falling from his face growing smaller as he continues to run.
the cat went back the next morning--
no one was there, just the shovel where it had landed the night before,
and a hole dug so deep, no light could find the end.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Luften er tyk af tanker og løgne.
Foragt og fordærv
Det regner som syreregn
ætsende med depressioner og angst
der gør luften giftig og usigtbar.
Vores lunger giver op.
Lykkepiller flyder i grundvandet,
lammer al ægthed fra livet,
der ikke længere er noget værd.
En hel nation på stoffer,
der har glemt
-
skaderne er for store,
tilværelsen intetsigende.
Det er ligemeget.
Vi er høje på materialisme og transparent lykke.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
'TWAS THE MORNING OF CHRISTMAS
AND THE WORLD WAS CONCERNED
NO GIFTS WERE DELIVERED
WE WOKE UP AND LERARNED
WHAT HAPPENED TO SANTA?
WHY DID HE NOT COME
THE PARENTS WERE WORRIED
THEY WERE FEELING QUITE GLUM
HE'D NEVER FORGET US
ON PURPOSE, THEY SAID
PERHAPS SOMETHINGS HAPPENED
PERHAPS SANTAS DEAD
THIS SURE COULDN'T HAPPEN
OUR DEAR SANTA DIE
WHEN THE WORLDS CHILDREN HEARD THIS
THEY ALL STARTED TO CRY
ALL THIS WATER IS RISING
AND IT'S GETTING QUITE HIGH
THEY SAT AND THEY THOUGHT
THAT THERE MUST BE A REASON
THAT ST. NICK PASSED US BY
DURING THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON
PERHAPS WE'VE FORGOTTEN
WHAT CHIRSTMAS IS FOR
IT'S FOR LOVING EACH OTHER
NOT JUST SHOPPING IN STORES
PERHAPS SANTA THOUGHT
THAT THE WORLD HAD GONE BAD
WE MUST ALL HEAD OUT NORTHWARD
TO THE POLE WE MUST GO
WE;LL TELL WE'RE SORRY
HEL'LL BELIEVE US , I KNOW
WE'LL HEAD OUT DIRECTLY
BEFORE THIS DAY ENDS
WE;LL HEAD OUT TOGETHER
AND WE'LL MAKE OUR AMENDS
IT TOOK 14 HOURS TOGET TO HIS HOUSE
WE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR
AND WE SPOKE TO HIS SPOUSE
WE TOLD HER WE'RE SORRY
AND WE'LL TRY TO BE GOOD
WHEN BEHIND HER CAME SANTA
HE WAS DRESSED WITH A HOOD
HE SAID "THANK YOU FOR COMING"
"I COMMITTED THE SIN..."
"MY ALARM CLOCK IS BROKEN...
"AND I GUESS I SLEPT IN!"
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
på fredag
tømmer vi endnu
en papvin
og lægger vores
rene uskyld
i hænderne
på beskidte drenge
fylder
vores lunger
med røg
vores hjerter
med håb
og glemmer
at drømme
ikke varer evigt
som røgen pustes ud
forbliver håbet
selv efter han
har vasket sine hænder
er du plettet
og præcis
som din samvittighed
kan du ikke vaskes ren
du er ikke hel
du er i stykker
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
there are no words
for the way my ski
n electrifies when y
our smoke wraps ar
ound our bodies and
sends shivers down m
y spine because you a
re trickling your finge
rs down my ribs and s
ometimes i can not hel
p but think about how
blood felt trickling dow
n my wrists and by the
time you came around
i was so far gone that i
'm more than surprised
about how someone wh
ose smile is always six m
iles wide could love some
one who wants to be bur
ied six feet under and if i
lost the chance to tell you
that i love you, then i don
;t know where i would be
and if i make my bed in a
grave before you do i hop
e you never pick up the bo
ttle again and try to find s
olace because we both kno
w that anesthetics are neve
r any different from poison
s and if your nerve endings
remember my touch and y
our breath gets short but h
eavy when you think you j
ust got a text from me but
you remember that the te
xt will never come; i want y
ou to know that i love yo
u and that you can make it
through anything and if yo
u do just one thing in my r
emembrance then i want y
ou to never ******* drink
my taste away because no
matter how strong you se
em i still think that my p
assing will make you a lit
tle uneasy and a little diff
erent maybe and i wonde
r if you'll cry anywhere c
lose to as much as i used t
o cry on a nightly basis a
nd will you sneak out an
d walk down to the stop
sign where we exhaled a
nd inhaled smoke and we
held each other and ****
man when i laid on the as
phalt i still wished a car w
ould come speeding by e
ven though that's so ****
ed up and this isn't even a
poem it's just a ****** up
story but if you ever love
d me at all, you won't pi
ck up the bottle- you wo
n't take a shot even if it m
eans remembering the tr
igger.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
I feel like everything I do means nothing,
like what I say doesn't affect anyone.
I feel like walking away from it all,
but I just don't want to give up.
He used to make my heart fly and feelings soar,
but now he only makes me cry.
I don't want to give up on all we had,
I know we can be so much more.
She was my very best friend,
someone who I could always confide in.
Now she won't even talk to me,
and I can't figure out why...
I'm trying to make myself happy this time,
but everyone else gets mad.
It's like what I want doesn't even matter,
and what I need isn't relevant.
I've spent my life trying to make everyone else happy,
and for once I'm trying to do stuff for me.
But everyone else is throwing fits,
and everyone is ****** at me.
I can't make you all happy,
I can't make my life make sense.
I'm lost and confused and I'm sitting here crying,
I'm waiting for someone to come and climb over this wall.
Doesn't anyone see the signs?
don't you all see me, sitting here, crying, alone.
Why don't you try to help me along,
what is so wrong with me that I can't do it on my own.
I can't make my life make sense anymore,
and I'm reaching for the blade.
As long as I was clean before,
that changed and I can't make it stop.
I'm struggling and I'm fighting and I'm crying out,
but no one around seems to hear.
Please someone just make some sense out of life,
please send me some kind of guidence....
I need an Angel
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 7:00 PM UTC
Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?
A: Heart only good for so many beats, and that it... Don't waste on exercise. Everything wear out eventually. Speeding up heart not make you live longer; it like saying you extend life of car by driving faster. Want to live longer? Take nap.
Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake? ...
A: Oh no. Wine made from fruit. Fruit very good. Brandy distilled wine, that mean they take water out of fruity bit so you get even more of goodness that way. Beer also made of grain. Grain good too. Bottom up!
Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of one, sorry. My philosophy: No pain...good!
Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU NOT LISTENING! Food fried in vegetable oil. How getting more vegetable be bad?
Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: You crazy?!? HEL-LO-O!! Cocoa bean! Another vegetable! It best feel-good food around!
Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming good for figure, explain whale to me.
Q: Is getting in shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is shape!
Well... I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets.
And remember:
Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO-HOO, what a ride!!"
AND......
For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.
1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.
Concocted (for a sort of reconciliation) ...for our weekly fatty club weigh in.
Ha!
M.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Du samlede mig op.
Stykke for stykke.
Jeg er ikke hel, men det er okay.
At spejle mig i dine nat-klare øjne heler mere end tiden nogensinde vil
og det sendte et samsurium af alt det gode verden stadig gemmer på
igennem mine glasknogler og trætte organer,
der langsomt heledes når mine isblå negle forenden af mine fingre
trykkedes i din ferskenbløde hånd.
Endeligt var det rigtigt.
Endeligt er jeg hjemme.
Endeligt kan jeg mærke dig,
beundre din marmor-hud hvorunder toner af liv, jeg ellers aldrig har hørt, spilles.
Et endeligt øjeblik, hvor lyset slipper ind, og jeg har det som om,
at der vokser fløjls roser i min krop.
Natten omslutter os med ét og jeg ser igennem dine øjne.
Tegner ekliptika langs din rygsøjle.
Endeligt flyver vi.
Ikke længere skal vi forestille os.
Endeligt.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
I can't breath.
I can't ******* breath.
I feel like I should be freaking out.
Like the
Kicking
Screaming
Lock me up
Because I'm going crazy
Kind of freaking out.
I just feel really calm
And ice cold
And slow
And shaky.
I can't breath though
I CAN'T ******* BREATH.
I can't
brea
th.
Please help me.
I don't know what happened.
I don't know what he gave me.
I don't know why it happened.
I don't know why I did it.
I am an awful person.
I CAN'T ******* BREATH.
It was so slow.
I can't
remem
ber
it
all.
I don't remember when he came back
In the room.
I really don't.
I can't remember
The point where he
I CAN'T ******* BREATH
Got on top of me.
He was just there.
I don't know.
I DON'T REMEMBER.
I was almost asleep.
WHAT DID HE GIVE ME.
I can't remember anything
With any detail.
I ALWAYS REMEMBER DETAILS
I CAN'T BREATH.
I don't remember it all.
I can remember the things he said
And I can remember where he
I CAN'T BREATH.
I CAN'T ******* BREATH.
WHY IS NO ONE COMING TO HELP ME.
started to **** me.
Why did I let him do it.
I DON'T REMEMBER THIS.
I NEED HELP.
I don't remember screaming.
I really don't.
I don't remember them coming in.
I don't remember all of the guys tearing him off me
And throwing him against the wall
And starting to hit him.
And Adam rushing me out to his car.
I don't remember hearing him scream in pain
As I left the room.
I don't remember falling asleep in the back of the car.
I don't.
I ruined my life.
It's all my fault.
I CAN'T BREATH.
SOMEONE ****
ING COME HELP
ME I CAN'T
*******
BREATH.
PLEA
SE.
I don't remember everything.
It just feels like.
I don't ******* know.
It's just so unclear.
There's one thing I do remember.
But I promise
I don't remember when I started to scream.
I just felt like I wanted to die.
I didn't know where anyone was.
WHERE IS EVERYONE.
I don't remember screaming.
PLEASE
******* SOMEONE.
I can remember him covering my mouth.
I CAN'T ******* BREATH.
WHY IS NO ONE HELPING ME.
I
CAN
'T
****
ING
BREA
TH
PLEASE
SOME
ONE
*******
HEL
P
M
E.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
en kold januars morgen - tak fordi du smilte så sødt, og kyssede så godt, undskyld fordi jeg ikke krammede så godt, da vi sagde farvel for altid.
en forårs dag - tak for de søde blikke og håndholdning på stranden, til den konfirmation, undskyld fordi jeg glemte dit nummer
en sommer aften på grøndalsvej - jeg ved godt du har taget en omvej, kun for at følges med mig, tak for håndholdning og kram, undskyld at jeg ikke svarede på dine opkald
endnu en sommer aften men på godthåbsvej - tak for den sprite, undskyld fordi jeg bare gik
endnu en sommer aften dog i et kolonihavehus - tak for alle de søde kindkys og en hel masse brændte skumfidusser(det var ligeså meget min skyld), undskyld fordi jeg blev veninder med din lillesøster
en varm efterårs eftermiddag/aften - tak for turen på din Christiana-cykel, og for vores små kys i din pool, undskyld fordi din bedsteven faldt for mig
endnu en efterårs aften dog knap så varm - tak for isen, tak for din varme-jakke, hænder og kys, undskyld fordi jeg ikke var tydelig nok
en kold nytårs aften - tak for hele december måned, undskyld at du skulle finde ud af det igennem hende, men jeg troede ikke det var seriøst, undskyld.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
din historie rodfæster en sandhed i mig
om cigarrøg og fremmede mennesker
deres magt over kønnet og min krop
i forestillingen;
jeg mister arme
jeg ser mit kød hvordan det forsvinder
(det nemme er at falde fra)
indersiden af låret
mavens rundhed brysternes buen ansigtets rene træk
mine læber; deres måde at skille på
nu vender jeg dem altid på vrangen før jeg går ud
i alle disse berøringer
disse berøringer
i én smeltet masse af hud og hår
*
I just want you to know (jeg ser ikke længere hendes ansigt)
i minderne;
kun krop
kun krop
kun krop
*
der vokser et svigt i mig
i mine øjenvipper
når jeg græder tårer som rammer andres hudlag
diffunderer
fra væske til følelse til en berøring to mennesker imellem
vores relation er ikke andet end tag på hud
og afstumpede nik gennem bevoksede ***
*
I metroen;
altid metroen et ikke *** vi kører imod
et transportmiddel der opsluger. du kan se det i øjnene på disse ”mennesker” i ikke-rummet.
og ud på skinnerne, de drømmer, stigende over kanten. En stemme;
attention à la marche en descendant du train
og jeg retter opmærksomhed, for jeg stoler mere og mere på stemmer uden ansigter
på højtalermagt
end på alle de mennesker, jeg kender.
*
I metroen;
jeg er så træt af at være træt af hans opførsel
catcalling som fænomen, der stammer fra metroens ikke-rum
det må det gøre !
den opslugende kraft, han kan lugte den den hænger i luften,
og alle er usikre
må man gerne efterlade sit liv inden man stiger ind?
attention à ton corps et ta voix
du ved aldrig hvilket ansigt han bærer
*
det er en forventning om at være utilpas, der bor i mig.
en forventning om
at blive catcallet
at mærke fremmede mænds hænder på min krop
at iklæde mig tøj jeg tør gå alene hjem i
at sove på gulvet hos venner for at undgå natbussen
*
jeg ved godt
at ikke alt er mit eget valg
*
og jeg brækker mig i metroen i en uber på gaden i min egen opgang
og jeg skammer mig over skammen
den skam forbundet med fremmedes ord og handlinger
*
du ventede engang på boulevard Saint-Denis
og en mand spurgte dig om hvor meget du kostede for at være hans
én hel nat
og det tog mig én hel dag at forstå din tavshed overfor ham
han kan ikke gå og forvente at alle kvinder på gaden potentielt kan være hans til den rette pris
VI EJER IKKE HINANDEN
OG JEG ER TRÆT AF MIG SELV
NÅR JEG LØBER VEJEN FRA MIN METRO TIL MIN HOVEDDØR
og ånder lettet op
bag en låst dør
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 9:08 AM UTC
Kan jeg?
brænde mig selv ned
med hud og neglerod
hver en sprække
af fregnede smil
og skarpe vinterknogler
havde man fingre af kul
kunne man tegne sig selv op i silhuet
en skælvene kvindes
begyndende skygge tager form
på halvmånens blege papir
under fuldmånen er jeg
en lysende diamant
indtil da
danser jeg på tåspidsen om bålet
kan jeg se mig selv
gå op i røg og damp
stolt som den enøjede konge
Skal jeg?
presses sammen til
noget du ikke genkender
når vi støder ind i hinanden i gaderne
tilfældigt, selvfølgeligt
gyderne af vores
måneskinsvandringer
hvor vi drømte om en måne der var hel
skal jeg samle månens stykker sammen
uden dig til at smile når jeg ikke blot er konturer af vores drømme
og jeg lyser gyderne op
Må jeg?
glemme at du fandtes
den dag hvor der var måneformørkelse og du
ikke dukkede op i gyden
jeg så dig gå op i røg jeg så
at ilden i dit hjerte aldrig brændte for mig
må jeg vide at jeg kan blive en funklende diamant også efter at
jeg brændte mine fingre på dit hjerte
da du sagde at du elskede mig under månen
og jeg vidste at du var aftagende
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
She had a beauty that would tangle your tongue if you ever tried to describe it..
You form a stutter as your heart tried to reiterate the words fumbling from your lips.
She would just look at you..
Then a knot would twist.
Your mind would echoe you idiot as you just tried to put together a simple sentence.
He.. hel..lo.
You couldn't really look up but you knew her smile has risen kissing her face as her eyes glowed in awe or complete amazement.
Her love was a tongue twisters. Hearts collapsing falling in this evident love that couldn't be denied not even by the tongues tied.
Lyricist she spoke more like sang her voice mesmerizing.
Have you ever choked on the alphabet & threw up nothing close to what you were thinking especially when all you could think is oh god she is beautiful.
Tongue twisted with the romantic poison of a crush everlasting..
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC