Hello Poetry
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"hola" poems
Don’t release your ******* Just release my single I don’t think it’s stunning When that thing is jingle ******* taste like Pepsi-Cola ******* taste like Marabou See a ***** – I say hola Eat that thing like caribou
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 5:59 AM UTC
PU$$Y
*I find myself lost In a never ending frost For is my anger that dwells Even when I should not, and well I hate the way they joke And talk like regular folk They laugh about suicide And they mock and lie and hide They talk about Ebola As if saying Hola I hate the way they make me feel As if I'm a useless wheel I want so bad to hurt them But if not for my friend, who keep my hem I would gladly go to jail For an attempted ****** in which I would fail I hate those who laugh at the less fortunate And I hate those who smile with amusement So thank your lucky stars That my best friend cares from afar For if not for her compassion I would wear you as my latest fashion*
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
Angry
Read random books And take some pics Eat bacon, soup and.. oh a Sandwich Add it to your story And add stickers, lips Drive a BMW and sing a silly song Of? Not even the words of Your "speachless" mind Don't forget to talk out loud Start a live While going out, mad Add "thinker" to your bio pretend You're different than the others, oh not my dear lad! Eww Go to the gym Take pics of your body,  Hola! Isn't that a dream? Make some more friends Then make them cry For your fake pains Dance with the "kiki" song Post it somewhere (mostly to girls) Make sure You are walking on *** son Send follow requests to some **** barbie girls Do not accept guests, and make fun of  fat nerds That's your life Bro! Did I ever protest?
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
Insta Lad
senorita her name is ****** living in a half empty cup under neath the stars of a lofts stairs. ****** dances and dreams wonders if life is all it seems as its perceived, questions her thoughts traces her dreams chases the feelings that so desperatley brings ****** to her knees perhaps there is a plan maybe its all just a test as ****** sips her cup under the stairs a man comes and says hey bonita como se llamo ****** she speaks softly and smiles hola senorita he replys
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Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 1:35 PM UTC
Senorita
Hace frio. Llueve. Me gusta Cuando llueve. El agua Baila En las casa. Yo Miro. Escucho A el agua; Yo estoy Feliz. Hoy es Sábado. Y llueve, Siempre. Pero, Yo corro. Yo corro y yo corro Cuando llueve. Llevo Los pantalones cortes Además llueve En sábado. Yo descanso. Yo estoy cansada. “Yo no trabajo más,” yo hablo. Pero yo aprendo, Yo trabajo, siempre. Pero, yo estoy feliz Cuando yo trabajo Porque, me gusta sábado Y llueve, siempre, Y yo bailo con el agua. Canta, el agua. Canta a me. En sábado frio, Nosotros cantamos, El agua y me. Sábado es bueno. Sábado es simpático. Me gusta sábado Cuando el agua y yo Cantamos y bailamos. Pero no me gusta lunes, Martes, miércoles, Jueves, viernes. Porque yo estoy en la casa, No en la escuela. Mi madre, no, mi madrastra Es mala y seria. “No les gustas,” ella habla. “Tú eres débil y pobre. No les gustas,” Ella habla otra vez y otra vez. Pero, en sábado, Yo corro. Porque yo no trabajo Para mi madrastra En la casa mala. Yo corro, cuando Miro una la chica. No ella baila en el agua. No ella canta en el agua. ¿Por qué? Ella mira me. Ella habla, “Hi. My name is Basil.” Yo hablo, “No hablo inglés.” Ella habla, “Ok. Me llamo Basil.” Basil. Un nombre bonito. Basil habla, “¿Cómo te llamas?” Yo hablo, “Catrin.” “Mucho gusto, Catrin” Basil habla. “Igualmente, Basil” Yo hablo, Pero no nosotros paseamos. “¿Estas tu nuevo aquí?” Basil habla. “No,” Yo hablo. “¿Estoy yo tu amiga?” “No.” Ella habla, “¿Por qué?” “El agua es mi amigo uno,” y yo corro. Yo estoy en la casa. No me gusta la casa. No mi madrastra está aquí. Pero, el gato está aquí. Me gusta el gato. Nombre del gato es Licorice. Nosotros descansamos. Yo leo mi libro inglés. Yo práctico mi inglés. “Hello,” yo hablo, “es Hola.” El gato habla, “¡Miau!” Licorice gusta comer. “Paseas con me,” Yo hablo. Él come. Yo miro. Yo miro y yo dibujo. Yo dibujo Licorice. “¿Miau?” Licorice habla. “Está bien, Licorice.” Pero no está bien. Adiós sábado noches. Hoy es domingo y mañana. Mi madrastra no está aquí. Mi madrastra no está aquí sábado noches. Que es bueno. Hoy, yo corro, otra vez. Yo miro la chica otra vez. Basil pasea a me. “¡Tú estás ilegal!” Basil habla. “¿Qué?” yo hablo. Yo miro. “¿Por qué?” yo hablo. Yo estoy triste. Pero el agua baila y canta. Mi casa es en Dallas Texas, Pero yo soy de Chihuahua, México. ¿Soy yo libre? Sí y no Yo soy libre en México. Sí, en Dallas, Yo soy ilegal. Pero cuando yo canto y bailo con el agua, Yo soy Libre.
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Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 9:42 PM UTC
Ilegal
Hace frio. Llueve. Me gusta Cuando llueve. El agua Baila En las casa. Yo Miro. Escucho A el agua; Yo estoy Feliz. Hoy es Sábado. Y llueve, Siempre. Pero, Yo corro. Yo corro y yo corro Cuando llueve. Llevo Los pantalones cortes Además llueve En sábado. Yo descanso. Yo estoy cansada. “Yo no trabajo más,” yo hablo. Pero yo aprendo, Yo trabajo, siempre. Pero, yo estoy feliz Cuando yo trabajo Porque, me gusta sábado Y llueve, siempre, Y yo bailo con el agua. Canta, el agua. Canta a me. En sábado frio, Nosotros cantamos, El agua y me. Sábado es bueno. Sábado es simpático. Me gusta sábado Cuando el agua y yo Cantamos y bailamos. Pero no me gusta lunes, Martes, miércoles, Jueves, viernes. Porque yo estoy en la casa, No en la escuela. Mi madre, no, mi madrastra Es mala y seria. “No les gustas,” ella habla. “Tú eres débil y pobre. No les gustas,” Ella habla otra vez y otra vez. Pero, en sábado, Yo corro. Porque yo no trabajo Para mi madrastra En la casa mala. Yo corro, cuando Miro una la chica. No ella baila en el agua. No ella canta en el agua. ¿Por qué? Ella mira me. Ella habla, “Hi. My name is Basil.” Yo hablo, “No hablo inglés.” Ella habla, “Ok. Me llamo Basil.” Basil. Un nombre bonito. Basil habla, “¿Cómo te llamas?” Yo hablo, “Catrin.” “Mucho gusto, Catrin” Basil habla. “Igualmente, Basil” Yo hablo, Pero no nosotros paseamos. “¿Estas tu nuevo aquí?” Basil habla. “No,” Yo hablo. “¿Estoy yo tu amiga?” “No.” Ella habla, “¿Por qué?” “El agua es mi amigo uno,” y yo corro. Yo estoy en la casa. No me gusta la casa. No mi madrastra está aquí. Pero, el gato está aquí. Me gusta el gato. Nombre del gato es Licorice. Nosotros descansamos. Yo leo mi libro inglés. Yo práctico mi inglés. “Hello,” yo hablo, “es Hola.” El gato habla, “¡Miau!” Licorice gusta comer. “Paseas con me,” Yo hablo. Él come. Yo miro. Yo miro y yo dibujo. Yo dibujo Licorice. “¿Miau?” Licorice habla. “Está bien, Licorice.” Pero no está bien. Adiós sábado noches. Hoy es domingo y mañana. Mi madrastra no está aquí. Mi madrastra no está aquí sábado noches. Que es bueno. Hoy, yo corro, otra vez. Yo miro la chica otra vez. Basil pasea a me. “¡Tú estás ilegal!” Basil habla. “¿Qué?” yo hablo. Yo miro. “¿Por qué?” yo hablo. Yo estoy triste. Pero el agua baila y canta. Mi casa es en Dallas Texas, Pero yo soy de Chihuahua, México. ¿Soy yo libre? Sí y no Yo soy libre en México. Sí, en Dallas, Yo soy ilegal. Pero cuando yo canto y bailo con el agua, Yo soy Libre.
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To my Sisters and Brothers in Arms: Hello, Hola, Guten Tag etc. and Salutations For the Tribulations and Trials we've Endured... ...I'm sure by this Present Frame You all (or most) know who you R and what you THINK? You're Supposed to B DOING. I'll start to unwind and Integrate slowly from here on --> This Q.C.[O.I.^3] I already have a ready (but nearly untapped) Network that should be able to Mesh me into the Bigger Picture, At both the Local and Global Scale. Chow, for now (or until I get bored/BOAR'D/Barred?!/Abroad again); I'm sure to see you (or you'll see me) down the track sometime SOONISH!!!? P.S. Would someONE look after me missus until I make it Home? Hasta pronto, me Amigos. Col
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Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
A Letter Home (...of Sibling Rivalry/Revelry)
Boring and rude? That's a rich call, coming from you! But rude I'll concede, Given the circumstances - You pester me with calls and texts, And invade my private domain, And won't listen when I say, "No" - What would you expect? That I'd be grateful towards A drunken lush intruding my peace? That I'd be receptive to a needy egoism More entrenched than Catholic Dogma? No, that is not my way - No! You can get f**ked! And I told you - I had to spend an hour Convincing you I wasn't interested; That your infatuation wasn't reciprocated; That, when you're drunk, you're not worth knowing; That I've heard of your glory days And your present travails a million times; That you can't offer me what I need - A decent conversation, nor a decent ******* And I told you - I didn't pull punches; I didn't lie - I wasn't playing games. I told you in no uncertain terms And you didn't like my Truths - Perhaps they touched a nerve? Rude? Sure, maybe I was, But there was no other way To sink these facts through your alcoholic haze. As for boring - I'll not concede boring. I may not lead an exciting life, But boring? No - anything **** You've a hide, when every conversation Begins with an "I", "Me" or "My"; Anyone would think the World revolves around you! You take egocentricism to a new level; So self-involved and hard-done-by, You feel the need to inflict yourself on others. Adios, me amiga! And, Hola, me Amigos!
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Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Miss K - A Rose: Maybe She'll Bloom Frangipani One Day?
"Hola mi amigo" That is how they greed us in the states, but don't blame them, because we are the Latino's lost twin Next time don't let them judge the book by it's cover tell them that within the book it reads: *we are pohnpei the garden island in the pacific on the map we are midnight stars in broad daylight, but through the lens of a telescope one shall be blinded by our beauty for we are sweet harmonies of birds singing before sunrise, and sweet perfumes of island flora pouring through your nostrils we are reflection of sunsets stretching out into the open sea glittering, like diamonds beneath the sunlight we are children in Christmas crowding along the roads clutching onto plastic bags waiting joyfully for Santa to ride into town and rain candies on them we are dusty old tires diving and splashing into muddy pool *** holes on a paved road we are coconut milk leaking through the valley of ten fingers wedded in a shape of a ball and pouring onto breadfruits we are wooden hulls of canoes smashing through the waves like a bull through a red cape we are grandmothers telling ancient local tales to her kids and fathers showing his sons how to become island men we are the powerful kava repeatedly pounded on a flat stone forming a liquid brown as a chocolate milk and when one drinks the world suddenly becomes a quiet peaceful place we are pig meats heated beneath flaming rocks covered with banana leaves we are proud and peaceful we bow to show respect towards one another, visitors and their highness we have five kings and we are one our home abounds with mysteries but we see what is behind the cover some of us have left to pursue their curiosities but we will always be one and when the rain falls on a sunny day we understand that one of us is at peace we don't have any museums but we see our history through Nan Madol we don't have any towers but we see our lands from towering mountains and we have seen them burnt to ashes, but we survived, and we never left*...
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Serehds We Are
"Hola mi amigo" That is how they greed us in the states, but don't blame them, because we are the Latino's lost twin Next time don't let them judge the book by it's cover tell them that within the book it reads: *we are pohnpei the garden island in the pacific on the map we are midnight stars in broad daylight, but through the lens of a telescope one shall be blinded by our beauty for we are sweet harmonies of birds singing before sunrise, and sweet perfumes of island flora pouring through your nostrils we are reflection of sunsets stretching out into the open sea glittering, like diamonds beneath the sunlight we are children in Christmas crowding along the roads clutching onto plastic bags waiting joyfully for Santa to ride into town and rain candies on them we are dusty old tires diving and splashing into muddy pool *** holes on a paved road we are coconut milk leaking through the valley of ten fingers wedded in a shape of a ball and pouring onto breadfruits we are wooden hulls of canoes smashing through the waves like a bull through a red cape we are grandmothers telling ancient local tales to her kids and fathers showing his sons how to become island men we are the powerful kava repeatedly pounded on a flat stone forming a liquid brown as a chocolate milk and when one drinks the world suddenly becomes a quiet peaceful place we are pig meats heated beneath flaming rocks covered with banana leaves we are proud and peaceful we bow to show respect towards one another, visitors and their highness we have five kings and we are one our home abounds with mysteries but we see what is behind the cover some of us have left to pursue their curiosities but we will always be one and when the rain falls on a sunny day we understand that one of us is at peace we don't have any museums but we see our history through Nan Madol we don't have any towers but we see our lands from towering mountains and we have seen them burnt to ashes, but we survived, and we never left*...
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Naghihintay ang tasa malinis, walang laman sa tagpuang mesa kahapo’y may kabatuhan ng "¿Hola? at ¡Puñeta!" at kanina’y may kapalitan ng "Hello Sir! Wanna? Wanna?" nasingitan pa saglit ng malupit, galit sa langit na si "Arigatou Nakamura" At nakipag-rigodon ang mga payaso’t pirata at mga magnanakaw – mas ganid pa sa apatnapu ni Alibaba Nasaan ba si Ina? Wala na po dito, nandun na s’ya’t kahalikan si "Xie xie, Duō shǎo? Ni hao ma?" Pagkatapos kumulo ng tubig sa kaldero ng lipunan inilagay ko ang isang kutsarang balawbaw ng galapong nanggaling sa inipong butil ng kagitingan mula sa paanan ng Malarayat na kabundukan - kaagad-agad ay bumulwak, nagngangalit na umawas Kumakalat ang halimuyak ng kapeng bagong luto Naiinip na ang tasa sa tagpuang mesa ng bayang talisuyo Kailan kaya may uupo, yaong hindi bugaw na pinuno na pagpuputahin ka kung kani-kanino, kundi bayaning lingkod na hindi ka ipagkakanulo? Kapatid, kahit isang lagok lang, Malayo ang lakbayin, dapat nang simulan Ang mahalaga’y kumikilos, humahakbang Sulong tayo mga Kabayan . . .
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
Kapeng Barako VI (Ang Kawawa Nating Ina)
Hello morning. Hello afternoon. Hello Evening. Goodnight sunshine. Hello. Hey. Hi. Hola. Greetings. Goodnight. Goodbye. Bye. Au revoir. Tootles. Let's just say Goodnight sunshine. Not hello sunshine.
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Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
Goodnight Sunshine
ashy shins sit above worn nikes pedaling slowly, back and forth, back and forth, as she calls out, "hola," again and again to the little boy who lives next door she's waiting, and sitting still isn't what she's about, so she pedals, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth wide grins reveal missing teeth, worn out tanktop bares prison tattoos scratched into sagging skin, i bet she was beautiful once, but all that's left is a carcass now she stops to light a menthol, and adjust her head scarf, then she's at it again, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth hummer pulls up with the rims spinning, blasting biggie like they just got free, front door opens an inch, rolex hand reaches out to give our girl the goods nothing to go back and forth for now, crack in hand, lips wet from licking, she rides away almost as high as she'll be once she hits that rock
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Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
back and forth
My mom and my dad do not speak English how horrible is that RIGHT why, why, why do they speak Spanish i hate when they say things in Spanish like hola,que asen ,or even buenas noches,like hello i am English I HATE THIS! NO ABLAR INGLES! WHAT!
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
NO SPEAK ENGLISH!
Um, hey? Hi? Hello? Hola? As you can see, i'm not really good at this conversation thing, i mean, it's always been hard for me, i could sing before i could talk, hell i could even walk before i could talk, i'm sorry if i avoid you a lot and ignore you without thought, it's just that i don't want to embarrass myself, in front of you you're like a bookshelf, filled with different stories that i want to discover, but as soon as i see you, i quickly hide and take cover. Ah, love don't get me wrong, trust me i want to explore the universes in your mind, and the galaxies in your eyes, and the lies in your smile, that can maybe stretch a mile, i want to trace the canvas, your skin, with my fingers, the brush, and tell you to hush so i can hear your heart beat, i want to watch the art in your heart, flow through your veins, it keeps me sane, i want to be able to know every part of you, i wish you'd want to do the same to me too. You probably do, but i'm just to nervous to introduce myself to such a beauty like you.
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Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
[thoughts of an introvert]
WELCOME To planet earth; Abode of the free willed Of men whom **** land of the cursed. GREETING'S From planet technology; Wherein mankind's forgotten themselves They loveth ****** horror, dreary scene's, noone else. BONJOUR A message to anyone who seeith; A concoction of disaster, nuclear bomb's; Gang's, mob's, political master's. CHAÍRETE Cometh on in, greedy men Get greedier; Ninety-nine percent, just one left to plot and grin. KUMUSTA Don't forget to view ourn land; Stolen, controlled, ruined, hellion in Armani suit's; Turneth river's into poison, mountain's into sand. HOLA No need to rescue us No time left, were doomed with demonic consent This purgatory long ago, left God in the dust. HELLO Art thou ready for the end soon; As angel's of wrath art to release the bowl's Of prediction's long ago, oh head filled up to much? No room. WELCOME TO PLANET EARTH A PLACE OF SIN; STITCHED IN AT BIRTH........... ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
ברוכים הבאים לכדור הארץ ( WELCOME TO PLANET EARTH) hebrew tongue
Aloha! Buongiorno, uomo Hola Hi Hey Hello How does the devil say hello? Goodbye! With death.
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Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 7:40 PM UTC
#1
Hace frio allá afuera La brisa trae consigo el invierno Y todos sacan sus abrigos y chaquetas Entonados a una sinfonía de cremalleras. Son los gélidos vientos de Noviembre Que sacuden vigorosamente la ciudad Del Norte bajan fuertes ventoleras Que rompen la cotidianidad. La furia de Bóreas templa Contraria a la ira de sus victimas Retrasos por calles cerradas Maldiciones por enfermedad Dolores despiertan de sus camas Aquellos a quienes el frio tormenta. Mas debo decir que esto no me afecta Desnudo por la calle puedo andar Pues el frio de mi es el hilo Que tejió mi vida y normalidad. Frio es mi corazón diariamente Un paramo helado sin sensación Frio es la cámara de mi alma No hay dulzura, no hay amor Como frio es la vida de los otros Calor no encuentro a mi alrededor Tan frio es el desprecio A un hombre en precaria condición Y frio es el silencio A las plegarias de un hombre en desesperación Frio es el trato de la gente Sonrisas mas duras que el hielo Frio son los besos Que marcan el hola y el adiós. Y pienso yo en este frio Y noto que es invierno ya Y gélido es el viento Pero mas frio es el tratar ¿Sera que llamamos este céfiro? Con actos y palabras sin calor Que ya el frio encontró hogar Dentro de la gente, su corazón.
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Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC
Como hace frio alla afuera
the beep sounds from distant slowly fades inside my head the box quivering with agitation gives more sound of beeps something i never felt before hits me hard, inane race stirs up I- stand back, not knowing when the senses left and came back Thrills - run wild over ups and downs of not so lovely brains the beeps buzz around like the never end ceasing sound of 'OM' something I never desired for me, mockingly banters around I- stand back, not wanting to feel the same air again and the heat What new it possibly could fill me with when everything around is ragged and rusted; When there is no paint to color them and there is no scrubs to clean. What can I possibly speak on my behalf, there is nothing more I have left for explanation. Like some dementia, I circle around my own periphery to find out what could I have left behind and end up questioning all the things which were there with tags of well-accepted meanings. The meanings now slowly rises up like smokes from the chimney of the distant brick factory. It suffocates me already! yet the distance so far and it will never reach me. And I pick out my pen and start giving every subjects and objects disposed in me with the marks of asterisk. Now then, I go for the corner which I can't find anywhere because I am already floating in the space of nowhere land like a nowhere man. Just plain agitating suffocation is the feel you get in nowhere land. Blood ***** up all my stored energy to rush and cover a distance of less than one hand from heart to my brain. It fountains out through my eyes. But no reds!!! Just blue! Let me clear some space from the middle of everything and give a big asterisk with a big question mark '?' on its side. The last (for today) beep sound bring me back to my senses. The message from the other corner of telecom network doesn't seem to make everything alright but I seem to collect my own image on this world. "Maaf garnu hola tapai le samparka garnubhayeko number uthena" I hurl my bag and zip my jacket. Take me where you want to, take me where now I need to Take me home or let me crawl;or just let me kiss the ground Enough is never enough. More is less than more. take me out if you can I- stand back, moving just means passing out and coming back . Let me pass or take me through. Its a cold new year day, isn't it? Well, HAPPY New year!
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Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
NEW YEAR FEELS
the beep sounds from distant slowly fades inside my head the box quivering with agitation gives more sound of beeps something i never felt before hits me hard, inane race stirs up I- stand back, not knowing when the senses left and came back Thrills - run wild over ups and downs of not so lovely brains the beeps buzz around like the never end ceasing sound of 'OM' something I never desired for me, mockingly banters around I- stand back, not wanting to feel the same air again and the heat What new it possibly could fill me with when everything around is ragged and rusted; When there is no paint to color them and there is no scrubs to clean. What can I possibly speak on my behalf, there is nothing more I have left for explanation. Like some dementia, I circle around my own periphery to find out what could I have left behind and end up questioning all the things which were there with tags of well-accepted meanings. The meanings now slowly rises up like smokes from the chimney of the distant brick factory. It suffocates me already! yet the distance so far and it will never reach me. And I pick out my pen and start giving every subjects and objects disposed in me with the marks of asterisk. Now then, I go for the corner which I can't find anywhere because I am already floating in the space of nowhere land like a nowhere man. Just plain agitating suffocation is the feel you get in nowhere land. Blood ***** up all my stored energy to rush and cover a distance of less than one hand from heart to my brain. It fountains out through my eyes. But no reds!!! Just blue! Let me clear some space from the middle of everything and give a big asterisk with a big question mark '?' on its side. The last (for today) beep sound bring me back to my senses. The message from the other corner of telecom network doesn't seem to make everything alright but I seem to collect my own image on this world. "Maaf garnu hola tapai le samparka garnubhayeko number uthena" I hurl my bag and zip my jacket. Take me where you want to, take me where now I need to Take me home or let me crawl;or just let me kiss the ground Enough is never enough. More is less than more. take me out if you can I- stand back, moving just means passing out and coming back . Let me pass or take me through. Its a cold new year day, isn't it? Well, HAPPY New year!
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Yeah I am a **** No I don’t want a hug Being a **** is a way to survive Living is what life provides I have been to the ******* Ward A place called Jail In Jail you had to be tough ******** is about being rough There would often be fights It would often be dark bearing no lights But you had to be strong and use might Sometimes Correction Officers look the other way This could be on any given day Being a **** is about having a stance The mean streets were about taking a chance As a **** you don’t advance A ******** **** is about having control within the Hood Showing no fear is how a **** stood Crying is definitely not an option Fright, but never showing it Other Thugs know how to communicate It’s interaction in relate Hand Grasps in **** Unity Brotherhood **** power to establish **** knowledge to accomplish Yeah I am a ******** **** My picture being on the Most Wanted List bearing my mug Being a **** can also be your death The shorten time a **** shall live Bullets can have a Thug’s name in the aim Yet the focus is consistently on blame Being a **** means sometimes you verse a Rap At times it might sound like a forbidden trap Hola if you know what I am talking about **** being a ******** **** The idea of enforcing ******** is being a **** in stating none of your business
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May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
A THUG’S OWN SPOKEN WORDS
Ciao. Bonjour. An nyeong. Hej. Hola. Hallo. こんにちは Simply Hello.
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Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
Simply Hello.
*He de extrañarte amigo, muchas veces más en la vida. Porque decir hola es la educación. Cambiaré el adiós de la tarde por una mirada en el parque. He de vivir en otros lados lejos de aquí, he de sentir los sabores del vino y del café los amores prohibidos, aquellos que calientan el alma y endulzan las ganas. He de ser feliz en esta vida o en la otra, que miles de historias contaran mis andadas y miles de pasos **** mis palabras.*
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Vino y café
May be I missed something… Sitting lonely by the fireplace, in the rocking chair, just like the one he always wanted to have since childhood, and to sit just like that with such a serious face… thinking really widely and broadly about own… like Sherlock or Epicur… and with a glass of Merlot.. In the whole house just crackling of the fire and hissing of the conditioner… May be I missed something.. Said he, but now out loud to himself… Something started vibrating, flashing with an idle melody through the dark silence of the house… - Да.. answered he, in hope that it is some of the “close” people that remembered him in the New Years Eve.. - Hola! Puedo hablar a Sr. Miguel. Esta en el casa ahora? - -Discúlpeme, está equivocado el número, señiorita… - -Lo siento… And she hang up the phone… wrong number… She needed somebody called Miguel… hmm.. I should’ve said that I was Miguel. Then, shoud've reserved the table in a restaurant and asked her out… And when she woudn’t meet Miguel there, just before she starts leaving, accost her and tell: -Hola, Senioritta. Me llamo Roberto. Esta muy bonita y estoy solo esta noche. Quiere beber algo comigo? You don’t have to wonder that people treat a woman with such beauty like that. You’re not first, you’re not the last… And she responded: -Gracias y Mucho gusto Roberto. Me encantaria… And then with projectors and street lights through bars and clubs until the dawn… and then it’s not lonely and very hot in your bed… and in the morning, a little bit ill and tired you ask her: -Como te llamas? -Maria… That would be the last word you would hear from her.. and she gets dressed and gone, gone… You’re lonely again.. inside just the fantasies and at front of you their reflections on the burning down fire…
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Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 8:29 PM UTC
Maria
May be I missed something… Sitting lonely by the fireplace, in the rocking chair, just like the one he always wanted to have since childhood, and to sit just like that with such a serious face… thinking really widely and broadly about own… like Sherlock or Epicur… and with a glass of Merlot.. In the whole house just crackling of the fire and hissing of the conditioner… May be I missed something.. Said he, but now out loud to himself… Something started vibrating, flashing with an idle melody through the dark silence of the house… - Да.. answered he, in hope that it is some of the “close” people that remembered him in the New Years Eve.. - Hola! Puedo hablar a Sr. Miguel. Esta en el casa ahora? - -Discúlpeme, está equivocado el número, señiorita… - -Lo siento… And she hang up the phone… wrong number… She needed somebody called Miguel… hmm.. I should’ve said that I was Miguel. Then, shoud've reserved the table in a restaurant and asked her out… And when she woudn’t meet Miguel there, just before she starts leaving, accost her and tell: -Hola, Senioritta. Me llamo Roberto. Esta muy bonita y estoy solo esta noche. Quiere beber algo comigo? You don’t have to wonder that people treat a woman with such beauty like that. You’re not first, you’re not the last… And she responded: -Gracias y Mucho gusto Roberto. Me encantaria… And then with projectors and street lights through bars and clubs until the dawn… and then it’s not lonely and very hot in your bed… and in the morning, a little bit ill and tired you ask her: -Como te llamas? -Maria… That would be the last word you would hear from her.. and she gets dressed and gone, gone… You’re lonely again.. inside just the fantasies and at front of you their reflections on the burning down fire…
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hi, read the title prolly you are catching ladies’ eyes hatching new chicks every now and then tell tales writing promises on water play with their feelings say you only love one oh geez there’s alot read again the title making someone fall deeply and stuck inside wont make you cool hola, read again the title im not being oppressive there’s a reason we all have given you this title 7 words ****
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Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
oh *********
I saw something today and it raised hell and flipped it over I was walking and then on the other side of the road, there was a Mexican lady walking, minding her business, not bothering anybody and then a kid, some 10 year old child, shouted to her from her window "Hola! Como Estas?" the lady turned around and kept on walking and that kid yelled "No ingles?" and laughed and hid behind her house then when she came back out again, I stopped and glared at her. She looked like she was going to say something back, but she just went back in the house. I was fuming and when I was crossing the road, I ran to that sweet Mexican lady, and told her, "She doesn't know what she's saying , ignore her, Have a beautiful day." she smiled and it **** made me cry. She was a beautiful hardworking person. How she probably works hours and hours for her kids at home How she would be a loving mom, hard worker, and a kind hearted too It was as if God's telling me, Anna do something. and guess what, I will.
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
Guess what Holden? Innocence died today.
the steady  undertone of darkness that i see in me in you mama ocean's star fish i knew that i was lucky to see this but i better high tail it out of there fast before mama gets angry - you be steppin on her babies her babes - all she cares to tend is the babes and she will not stop until they are taken care of you have no idea you have no idea , how much it hurts when you **** a child any thing with a heart beat is sacred sacred ground that has been birthed from the very earth we pillage from , we are killing ourselves forget killing each other, we are killing our own children - we are killing the future before it has even begun - making time , i , am a woman of nature - you are a man of nature - we are the nature that holds steady and rocks hard we are the star children of mama earth and we are not happy when you squish the creativity   we won't punish you but mama will just and fair Earth MAMA thank you for your abundance and your care and your energy that pervade the all clearing seeing humus of life (environmental interested minds - hola!!!)
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC
WANTED FOR TREASON : ALL THOSE WHO DE - GRADE AND DIS - RESPECT MOTHER EARTH AND FATHER SKY .........JUSTICE IS A DISH BEST SERVED ON ONE PLATE.
Hola bonita Estas la flor de viva Mi Amor
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Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
Haiku de Espanol