Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"hipper" poems
I'm so in love with Fridays Fridays Fridays I'm so in love with Fridays yeah hipper cooler Fridays ya gotta love them Fridays yum yum yummy Fridays rubbin tummy Fridays slappin ass-in Fridays get your giggle Fridays all together Fridays I'm so in love with Fridays Fridays Fridays
0
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
Fridays
I'm sorry God, but they've taken you prisoner. Their words indubitably once streamed from your lips, as your fingers projected beams of light, falling from the Heavens: people dumbly read your signs so literally. They've closed you in a book and recalled your name when such mentioning benefited their own name, hypocrites they are; for there was never a hypoChrist capable of making wine a commodity and bread a demon, unless it is gluten-free. How your intentions are clouded in veils. ****** in your name. To glorify you. Pushing scared young lovers--two men-- against barbed wire fences and insisting they are sinful, foul--better off dead. Maybe the hate is right because it wins ten times out of nine. God, they constantly judge each other when they don't believe in the "right" version of you. And they represent a new hipper you for the youth: they want to understand you, when really they just want to be understood. Some days I walk past strangers and wonder, "Who do you want me to be?" Am I not Muslim enough unless I cover my hair? Am I too Moz-lim if I say Allah and mean God-- just God, not whatever inane misnomer you'll tell me I really believe you to be. I think you tire of our piddle paddle, how we puff up our chests, only to blow out a tiny breath of air, that in one instant you can extinguish: the candle had no choice. We think we give the world meaning. We feel so special when we hear ourselves think, but sometimes, I wish you'd speak instead of all these false prophets.
0
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
endangered deity
I'm sorry God, but they've taken you prisoner. Their words indubitably once streamed from your lips, as your fingers projected beams of light, falling from the Heavens: people dumbly read your signs so literally. They've closed you in a book and recalled your name when such mentioning benefited their own name, hypocrites they are; for there was never a hypoChrist capable of making wine a commodity and bread a demon, unless it is gluten-free. How your intentions are clouded in veils. ****** in your name. To glorify you. Pushing scared young lovers--two men-- against barbed wire fences and insisting they are sinful, foul--better off dead. Maybe the hate is right because it wins ten times out of nine. God, they constantly judge each other when they don't believe in the "right" version of you. And they represent a new hipper you for the youth: they want to understand you, when really they just want to be understood. Some days I walk past strangers and wonder, "Who do you want me to be?" Am I not Muslim enough unless I cover my hair? Am I too Moz-lim if I say Allah and mean God-- just God, not whatever inane misnomer you'll tell me I really believe you to be. I think you tire of our piddle paddle, how we puff up our chests, only to blow out a tiny breath of air, that in one instant you can extinguish: the candle had no choice. We think we give the world meaning. We feel so special when we hear ourselves think, but sometimes, I wish you'd speak instead of all these false prophets.
Continue reading...
37
. Whipped Whipped Whi Whipped Whip Whipped Whipp WhippedWhip ped Whipped Whipped Wh ipped Whippe d Whipped W hipped Whipp ed Whipped W hipper Whipp Whipped Whipped Whipped Whipped Whipped Whip Whipped Whipped Whipped Whipp Whipped Whipped
0
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
***** - whipped
im suger high so hipper that i could bounce off the wall
0
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 6:51 PM UTC
suger high
there was a tiny girl who lived in a shoe she had so much footwear she didn't know what to do: itsy-bitsy teensy-weensy sneakers and pumps and microscopic oxfords that made her heart jump the little clogs she wore were custom-made in france they went well with leisurewear like her blue capri pants she loved her ballet slippers (the ones that did not pinch) and preferred stilettos with heels a sixteenth of an inch her favorite choice of footgear was a gift that could not be hipper: a resplendent miniature pair of magical ruby slippers and she looked quite lovely always wearing a minuscule diamond crown and was the belle of every ball as she twirled in her wee princess gown
0
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
tiny dancer
Normally, at this hour of night, I'm fragile and emotional and yearning for reinforcement. Tonight? No.t at. all. Tonight, I'm on fire. Tonight, I realize that I have what you want. Rather, I am what you want. You may not be aware of it, you may be in denial. It doesn't matter. Because I know it. I realize that I provide for you so much more than you give to me. I am a rock, a shield, and a dose of reality; all on demand! I would say you are lucky to have what I provide, but it isn't luck. It's choice. A choice I make, daily. A choice that has little to do with you. If you don't have need of me tonight, so be it. It's not my loss; it's yours. Tonight, I know the truth. You need me. You may not want me. You may not be proud of the fact that it is so. You may wish I was hipper, hotter, or more adventurous. But it doesn't change the fact that you need me. It's not the other way around. It could be. But you have to work at it. I know the truth, and the truth has set me free,
0
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
It's Not You, It's Me
Just my fate to live in a state Where things are so... .... backward That the mirror view Is a forward glance And backward progress Is no difference ...from a forward Advance It's not really part Of the Bible belt It's just below The buckle And right behind the zipper Been here...... ...most of my life And though it has tried From time to time To become a smidge hipper So far ... It has been an absolute failure Even though we reach ...out To touch the tiniest shadow Of the Color filled wonder A state of bliss ..a state known As Color.....COLORado..... Though the chords are severed And the fingers no longer Are doing Their earthly strumming I will fullfill the promise...I made Before you departed , and I stayed To set up a life there ,and in your memory I say my fate lies up in the Rockies .......hold on ....I will soon be coming !
0
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:42 PM UTC
Cut Chords break not the connection !