"hooping" poems
Hooping to me is bringing everything to the court
Basketball is a passion, not an ordinary sport
I play defense like a soldier, defending his fort
You have to go hard no matter what, if you shooting a lay up or a three
When I'm on the hardwood, I lose my mind and go free
I imagine myself not Eric, but the man who wore the Bull's 23
I won't be in the NBA, but I'll be the backyard Kobe Bryant or The City Park MVP
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 10:13 PM UTC
slash, gay, romance, grind house, love, boyxboy, **** fanfiction, angst, horror, death, ****** fantasy, race play ****** sadist ladies friendship, lesbian, school, fanfic, hate, lgbt, music, sad, adventure, alex, boys, cut, emo, harry, humor, hurt, lgbtq, magic, mental, anorexia, aris, axl, blood, blue, boy, boy love, boyfriend, girl on girl on boy on **** spank me daddy burn, cute, dark, drama, edward, fan fiction, pom pom **** dance, femslash, fiction, fluff, gay ***** fun love, toilet slave, hula hooping hula
Because you're worth it
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
There are those that want it
to come to a complete halt,
frozen solid and white,
like an ice sculpture
stuck in a peculiar pose.
This is the only way
to stop that heart-wrenching
moment,
that robs them of their blue skies.
Then there are those that want it
to quicken its footsteps
and flip by, like the pages of
a notepad giving motion
to squiggly drawings,
in order to get the next paycheck
or start that dream job.
Me? Every now and then I want it
to make a stop by the side of the road
and enjoy a leisurely doughnut,
maybe join in on the freckled giggles
of the little girls hula hooping
on the concrete pavements,
and sing nursery rhymes of
broken eggs and fiddles.
But sometimes I just don't care
whether time shoots up the skies
or gets weighed down with iron,
especially when I've got
my favorite chicken goulash
served with fine couscous
on an afternoon such as this one,
where the sky frowns with dark clouds
and spits angry beads of rain.
As far as I'm concerned,
the brown-eyed little boy
on the corner of the street
could be the keeper of time,
making sure it walks on nonchalantly,
with no regard to people's wishes,
leaving in its wake footprints of
sadness, joy and everything in between.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
We will calculate
the weight of your last few months
by measuring the angles
of afternoon sunlight—
fiber-optic puddles with receding shorelines,
and we’ll rain dance every night
for more time.
In my quiet house, I’ll make you
a deep bed with seven layers
of patterned sheets and pink pillows.
Those little bunk beds
that dad built for us,
remember? That we kept
well after our feet dangled over
the edge.
I’ll say to you, remember
hula hooping until our hips bruised.
Remember sneaking out in our pajamas
to the night grass
and calling after constellations
who were not yet born,
who would never be.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
Sitting in my backyard
Soaking up the rays and watching the ants
Suddenly beside me was an ant who could talk
Sure as can be he asked me if I would like to see where he lived
Sadly I said no I needed to practice my cart wheels and hula hooping for the evening circus
So what did the little ant do?
Shouldered me upon his back and marched down a hole that opened before us
Small now I could not believe he had abducted me
Sorry I forgot my hula hoop as perhaps my skill might help set me free
Singing with his ant friends, I was led to the chamber of the queen ant
**** and sleek was this producer of her community
Smile!
She comanded
Silly, I grinned and did a dance
Sigh
Slight of her hand she waved me away
Seems I didn't impress her a bit
Shunned, I was escorted back to the doorway
"Stupid human," an ant squeaked
"Surely with your circus skills we expected much more entertainment."
Softly he put me back on the grass
Some time passed before it sunk in
Stolen by an ant, on a sunny afternoon, was really quite super
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
I am from great grandma Jenny and her distinguished rose.
I am from summers at the beach and heavy winter snows.
I am from a bustling home and a yard bursting with imagination.
I am from a family where “head over heals” is no exaggeration.
I am from “Wait, whatʼs your name again?” on my very first bus ride.
I am from a brain full of secrets and “thatʼs classified.”
I am from the six legged octopus of matching Hello Kitty shoes.
I am from hidden forts at Teusinkʼs made of “rare” bamboos.
I am from cannonballs into the green and blue hut tub.
I am from the old Branch Office that sometimes refused to budge.
I am from soft green grass and sapphire blue skies.
I am from the back of a horse as the world flies by.
I am from cartwheels on old wooden balance beams.
I am from backflips and handsprings on trampolines.
I am from stitches, strained muscles, broken fingers and nose.
I am from insane barn sleepovers where only the glow-stick glows.
I am from dancing, biking, and hula-hooping through Wal-Mart.
I am from B-Town and Profession of Faith that really touched my heart
I am from Tulip Time parades and twirling my baton.
I am from so many things, the list goes on and on.
I am from my remarkable family who loves me in every way,
But mostly I am from God, and Heʼs why I am here today.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
let me love an artist so we can breathe in each other's fumes and get high off of creation and wonder.
let us spill out paints and ink and words and ideas onto a wooden floor and watch as it's corroded and falls away, level by level, until we're so deep that we're reaching into the dirt that surrounds us and slapping it on canvass like cavemen once did.
let you see me fully and not as the crazy girl who can't stop hooping and dancing and moving long enough to see straight, understand that when i run from face to face it's not because i don't want to love you so hard that i'm exploding, it's just that if i don't look into new eyes once in awhile i shrivel up and begin to fade.
let the world look at us and understand nothing, but feel a strange sense of desire to be so unique and drenched in the secrecy of the tiny universe we've created between us to house the wild way we wander over this earth, documenting piece by piece through our hands, eyes, and hearts.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 1:42 PM UTC
I always lose my shoes. I eat a bowl of popcorn every day and never put the bowl in the sink. My hair doesn't always stay in the right side. I told my sister that I wish she killed herself the other day. I have terrible attendence. Deodorant covers up my smell but not my stains. I don't write good enough. I don't like sleeping at night. I'm lonely and I make people leave.
I love deep. I can make kick *** deserts. I tell funny ****** up jokes. I make a mean *** of coffee. I like to swing. I like to dance in the rain. I know every word to the frozen movie. I have good taste in music. I'm impulsive. I like coffee and mini golfing and ice cream and hula hooping in the store.
If you hear me when you are crying wondering if you'll ever meet her. If you need a lover a friend a companion. If too sensitive and slightly child like makes you smile. If your heartstrings play music when you read my words.
Then love me back as much as the moon loves the sun. As much as my galoshes love a puddle. As much as a smoker loves the taste of the inhale. As much as I would love you.
I would love you.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Pain, scars and lots of flaws
Lying about sharp cat claws
Saying this will be the last
All to forget the hurting past
Hiding it with long sleeves
Hooping no one will leave
Never to feel this alone again
She learns to live with the pain
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
When juiced a spore sized embryo, early in utero; fetus
evinces atavistic miniaturization,
where nascent differentiation wrought
physical resemblance to - seek reachers,
sans Tarzan and Jane forebears,
or exemplification of religious embodiments writ upon taut
lee helical real to reel strung nano deoxyribonucleic acid,
where dome min ant
ander recessive traits pop sic cull, and/or mom genes sought
took comb hing gull, where foxy fiery hander chrome hat tick
microscopic threads ineluctably
hired bot to weave warp and woof for naught
heard interpretive soundcloud issue onomatopoetic beat,
whether as:
the Marseillaise, muezzin, or reveille blown in the wind
by alimentary mechanic, *** killed in all manner of ought
tow mobile craftsmanship, which possibly inflated and made pregnant,
when one seem n
thrashes within timed zona pellucida drawbridge,
hooping an ova to snag,
though odds stacked against the most basic cell fish competition fought
in the **** z of evolutionary biology informing **** sapiens
one errant or defiant game gamete perhaps hinting a gamine
tubby wonderfully woven with wisps viz The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
than the Driver of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More than Ropes Will Ever Do a ha at last that renegade oocyte
nabbed, analogously the Michael Phelps re: among the flagellated
madding crowdsource qua squirming sperm-faction caught
thence the commencement when trappings for a newborn bought
years later reviewing prenatal sonograms with grown son or daughter
pointing out how ***** editorialized, epitomized, and exemplified
in miniature (no bigger than any letter of the alphabet),
and closely resembled many creatures extant throughout the briny deep
such as an amphibian, reptile or Argonaut.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
What makes a monster a monster?
Is it his surroundings or maybe it's just life?
Or does he remember graphically the day his mom was knifed?
She said he'd live for greatness as her breath she gave her last.
When no police around because response time wasn't fast.
Police barely even came unless they're trying to **** a culture
Am I a monster because I'm black? And why must your gun leave its holster?
Do I look like a threat when I just came from hooping?
Or do I just look stupid because the books you gave were useless?
Was it because of dreads, you thought I rapped, sold drugs, or used em?
Are did you see I would get my degree and later become a nuisance?
To a system designed against us but you swear this land is equal.
When the only thing that's equal is the way you **** my people.
Give em toxic music and train em to watch the tv.
Watch the youth reduce to fools while we control the things they see.
And we control who they can be.
But I then peeped the game and all the chains that make us "free"
A dog don't need a leash, beat him good and he will listen.
Then give illusions of a freedom while subliminally in a prison.
What makes a man a monster before his life even begins?
When us blacks just want equality thank god it's not revenge.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
something chasing after me, saltine
biscuits trailing my feet, salty tears soaking
them through their flaky meat, lotus dreams and
finite weeks, never running away from time, instead
waiting for it to catch up to our heels and
leave crumbs behind
time was sluggish and easy when I took it into my arms,
pliant when I bent it around my arms, hula hooping
lifting me to the tips of my feet, time knew me
better than the parents I’ll never meet,
dusty paths and soles of feet pattering on
sizzling concrete
time tells me that I should have been a runaway
ennui says I’m ***** souled and
listless and too far away
sugar in gas tanks and fingers plugged in ears kind of thing
chasing cheap thrills to kingdom come
until the moon is a gleam of white and
mixes and melds with the lines of
empty candle wicks
pop bottles popping off, night breezes, a kiss under palm trees
(ennui uplifted momentarily)
southern Arizona and cool synths, runaway dream
onomatopoeia making a home in our daydreams
furtive eyes seeking to find God, but
reality crashing down around me
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 10:37 PM UTC
There must be a cheat sheet
There's gotta be a clue
Is there book on Y.I.Luv.U?
There have to be a problem
There have to be something wrong
Can I fix this problem of "thinking about you ?..umm.
Man I need some answers,
To all my questions!
What if ..Why do I love you is a clue because thinking of you is my problem wait are you answering my questions?!
Okay okay okay calm down Steve
There's no one there
But I could of swore I heard..Na maybe it was just a bird.
But I still feel like there's someone thar..
I mean there.
Well if you're there Why Do you care?
No wait why do I care
Who ....
Hello?
From the outside !! Lol HAHaha okie okie.. Oh
Wait
(Phone rings)
"Aye Steve are u coming to church today then after we're hooping?"
Sure bro
Okie
..no you hang up ..no you hang.. Ohh okie well.
I'm here. Bruuuuuhhh what is that??
Ugh okie ur getting on my nerves!!
Who are you..
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 5:00 AM UTC
Join us!
Join us!
We think you'll like our mission!
We're looking for new members
in the sad girl coalition!
We prefer girls with anxiety
and an affinity for plants.
Feminist views a must,
and a willingness to dance.
Gear needed to fit in here:
a rescue cat, a hammock,
an emotionally damaged cactus,
yoga, knitting, hula hooping,
or some other quirk you practice.
Duties are quite simple;
Defend your girls in online rants
about the current state of the nation.
Comment, "love the yoga pants!"
when a sister nails a headstand.
Click love instead of like
when a member shares the anthem
and keep adding to the ranks
of the sad girl coalition!
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
Most of my Lix spittle existence
found me figuratively
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat with
out an ankh (caws
away) aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker
from without, where two
myopic ocular
orbs did winker.
All thru academia
just barely passing grades
metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,
sans anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
cap (tinned em man hint mettle)
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning satyromania
the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed
triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus
on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC