"hugger" poems
An urban legend of sorts they said, of a tree, of a
branch that took any weight given. it has nickname
It had a place in secluded nature where no one seen.
**"The *** tree,**
"Really,
"Ye but you have to watch your step,
"Why??
"Well lets just say its a well fertilized ground,
"The earth and plants feed well on the,
"Sap,
"Seeds,
Not from one but the many, I heard the branch
Can take any weight, a gentlemen of plentiful weight
Tested the legend and got stuck **** naked
Not for a,
"Moment,
"Minute,
"Hours,
"Was he stuck, birthday suit and all,
His lady friend had jogged off with wallet and all,
Its on YouTube,
Called tree hugger nudist,
There is loads of dents little *** holes,
Some say its all the ***** *******
So many hard ones poking dents,
indentations forever of ******* against this tree.
"I've been their done that,
Really,
"Never again,
"Were standing on this branch,
"What's that look for,
"Nothing,
(Giggles under breathe)
"Getting into the moment,
"Thought sap,
"Tree sap,
"Was seeping in to my hair,
"Don't stop what happened stuck,
*"Pants down skinny **** man up tree,*
(giggles loudly)
"Dude I'm 6 foot 5inches,
It was sap of a different kind,
(Gags in mouth)
No Fudging way,
Yep that's not the worst,
"How the hell does some one seed a tree that high,
**"It was like the tree was ******* itself,**
"Old juice, sap, Klingon,
"What ever I throw up on her,
She bit down,
I, we feel three feet out the tree,
"So that's what the plaster cast is from,
"Is that why your walking funny,
Twenty nine stitches its like something
From a Frankenstein film,
Never again my friend a bed is where ill be from
Now on, she fell in a puddle of Jib juice triplets
She had all three different, DNA tests on all
Who visited the tree.
As a video recorded of all who entered,
Just not the naked bits seen.
**"Nature can keep its *** tree,**
"I'll be lucky if mine works again,
"Mine isn't wood its a limp branch now,
*"Dude you got ****** by wood,*
"Bitten limp by teeth,
"Unlucky bro,
"Hahahahah,
"Rather you than me,
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
Prowling through the undergrowth
In our barging juggernaut,
Ploughing the rolling hills of water,
Which crease as the narrowboat sluggishly gliding past,
Brushes the bulrushes like a tiger in the reeds.
For four intrepid days
Our film and photographs are empty to show,
No sign, only missed whispers,
Of the hummingbird blue blur.
A darting flash cresting the morning chill,
Regal turquoise stealthily steals
Our attention, our focus, and our tiller
Noses toward the bank hugger.
And we have him.
Small amber-royal fisherman,
Eclipsing his heron heralds
And the swans silent vigil
In majestic lapis lazuli.
Swift and sure he graces the water,
Fisher King,
Which bends beneath his dive.
Resurfacing, his golden breast
Mottled with silver minnow.
There recluse in his exclusive spot,
Fish foundering still in the ******
The kingfisher's poise frames his catch
Aperture, shutter, captured shot.
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Space and dread and the dark--
Over a livid stretch of sky
Cloud-monsters crawling, like a funeral train
Of huge, primeval presences
Stooping beneath the weight
Of some enormous, rudimentary grief;
While in the haunting loneliness
The far sea waits and wanders with a sound
As of the trailing skirts of Destiny,
Passing unseen
To some immitigable end
With her grey henchman, Death.
What larve, what spectre is this
Thrilling the wilderness to life
As with the ****** shape of Fear?
What but a desperate sense,
A strong foreboding of those dim
Interminable continents, forlorn
And many-silenced, in a dusk
Inviolable utterly, and dead
As the poor dead it huddles and swarms and styes
In hugger-mugger through eternity?
Life--life--let there be life!
Better a thousand times the roaring hours
When wave and wind,
Like the Arch-Murderer in flight
From the Avenger at his heel,
Storm through the desolate fastnesses
And wild waste places of the world!
Life--give me life until the end,
That at the very top of being,
The battle-spirit shouting in my blood,
Out of the reddest hell of the fight
I may be snatched and flung
Into the everlasting lull,
The immortal, incommunicable dream.
4.7k
that’s all I know, title, subject undisclosed,
new morn amourning arrives, when writing~writhing
hunger, comes and remains till fufillment,
sometimes, nagging, sometimes roaring, completion is
the satiation satisfaction when the pouring/
spilling is from within to without, topping off
the nearest receptacle with hugger-muggery,
beauty jumbled, elegantly jagged linen creased
the it of it, must be done, so my heart un-seizes,
breathing to nearly next to normal, yet the distance there
incroyable, inch or mile, meter matters not, until closed it’s a
chasm rupturing,
fingers grasping my temples, to hold the
jumbled tumbling innards within, redirected towards my
screaming fingertips, hoping, relief will come sooner,
making room until the throat and lungs engorged,
when~with this selfsame need returns
on the morrow
if, when,
my eyes open,
and yesterday itself
is a writ,
a realization accomplished
~~~~~~~
perhaps, you recognize yourself?
perhaps, you reconcile yourself?
Sep 26, 2023
Sep 26, 2023 at 9:54 AM UTC
Fire Walker
Angel Talker
Tree Hugger
Technicolor Dreamer
Imagination Jumper
Long time Barber
Recent Photographer
Twisted Big Sister
Missus of the Mister
Wicked Stepmother
to Some
Auntie of Others
Armchair philosopher
Always a Poet
and my Friends
mostly think
a Know- It-All
but in a nice way:)
Karen Newell
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Holly and Ivy
Walked in the woods
Discussing who was the best
Holly was hoping her rosey complexion
Would maybe outshine all the rest.
But Ivy thought Holly was surely forgetting
The shock of her prickly demeanour
She was convinced for sure
The king would adore
All that was so special about her.
Now Ivy was bit of a hugger
You might say a lot of a clinger
But she was convinced
Her warming embrace
Would win over the king no matter.
And when the time came
For the winter queen crowning
The king of the woods was clear
He chose as his queen the lady he fell for
And it's Holly who now wears his ring.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Here's to the...
Calorie counter
Long sleeve wearer
Excessive water drinker
Mirror believer
Professional over-thinker
Clever liar
Hair puller
Tongue biter
Thigh hater
Toilet bowl hugger
Magazine lover
Belly fat ****
At home cryer
Bedroom hider
Internet follower
Social stink bug
One sided therapist
Friend loser
Terrifying truth
Reality dodger
Space-brained
Nicknamed
Love rejector
Anxiety collector
Roller coaster rider
Personal antagonist
Perfection chaser
Hopeless dreamer
Nothing achiever
Unnoticed angel
Silent rainbow
Blood seeker
Soul-searching rebel
Wilting rose
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
As I sat on the backseat of your sister's car,
I knew.
I knew then that it would be the last
Of the unknown that I
Have cherished and loathed
For the longest time.
As I closed my eyes I
Wondered then,
Which one of them was going to fill me in
On what has been going on on
The other side
After all these years?
Father, you left me when I was five
But I couldn't do anything.
You seemed to forget that you had a daughter
But I couldn't do anything.
I searched for you through Friendster
through Facebook
even MySpace
But you wouldn't do anything.
I couldn't do anything.
As I sat on the backseat of your sister's car
About to meet you finally after all these long years
I couldn't do anything.
Had you rejected me
It would have been better
I could have gone crazy and screamed and thrashed and left
But you didn't do that sort of thing.
You hugged me
Along with everyone in the family
Even GrandMama cried as she hugged me
Twas as if the hugs could make up for the years
That went on by
Without you.
I did not grow up on hugs and
Kisses.
I seemed content in the berth of personal space
****** upon me at birth.
But then
Each and everyone of you was a
Hugger. And
I couldn't do anything.
I am not an angry mass of hate
And malevolence.
Gone were the days when
I had wished for your demise.
If anything,
I feared that I wasn't strong enough
For this. But
I couldn't do anything.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 4:23 AM UTC
Had the wrong hair to be cool,
two left feet back in High School,
fell in love in the lunch room
almost every day.
Remember spending those High School years
working so hard on the lines for the right girl,
never even made it past hello.
Saving money to buy the right style clothes,
platform shoes, remember those?
Seems like right when I got them, they went out of style.
It tickles me now , remembering those hip hugger jeans,
half the zipper than on a coin pouch and **** sure less room,
how I even had them fit on me!
Ya, there were the guys with all the right hair,
Daddy's money and all the hot girls,
most of them are single now and all burned out.
Course I still sit and wonder , every now and then,
how that kiss would have felt and to touch that hair in the wind,
it would have been something to always think about.
The old high school days are a training ground,
lets us learn what lifes going to be about.
Reckon I turned out just fine.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
Two-tongued and long,
Slander and smooth,
Naked and wicked.
Moves hissing,
Delivers kisses of death,
With tongue flicking.
A revered reptile.
Lives in dead piles of woods
In trees, and deserts,
The cold earth's hugger
Crawls like nature's gymnast.
Never has he ever laughed
Never made any friends
Never trusted by anybody.
Sadly he has a king,
Black like me
But has no soul
he lives in Africa
And in parts of Asia
He bites and hisses
But I don't bite
only on my food
He doesn't chew.
I do, and I swallow.
Him, his preys whole
I despise him.
I have many reasons
He social-engineered his ways
Around Adam"s woman
One day, he ****** eve up
With smooth lies
What this even implies,
Empirically, logically,
I really don't know,
All I know, I was told!
Hold on, I know not
From whence it came,
Maybe from the good book,
That's a Long and twisted story.
It says he used his tongue
Not on her as a woman,
But to break her home.
Adam was a **** fool,
To leave that girl home alone.
Unannounced, he came in kool
Using his double tongues.
Was she kinda blind?
He isn't even cute.
This story I can't refute
Yet millions have concurred
I'm not a friend.
Not of the story.
Of him, the notorious,
The venomous
The infamous heel biter
Once again, I hate him
Never was a friend
Never will be,
Because of that poor woman.
He's the First home breaker,
Frickin' liar
Cursed by God
His head to be severed
Using a sword,
A stone or stick,
Day or night,
Right or wrong,
Because of poor little eve
Adam's kids will strike
At his tiny little head.
Death to the serpent!
Eternal condemnation
Even if he repents,
Strike his elongated body
With a double-edged cutlass.
Don't you ever feel sorry
For this sorry ***
Chinese add him cooked
segments by segments to curry.
He has no class
He Kills at will.
I hate him very much
And I do have my reasons.
He's the infamous snake
The symbol of evil
Father of confusion
With evil intention
Perpetual guide
To eternal hell
From the garden of Eden
Who gave Eve a heartbreak.
He's toxic and venomous.
©IvanBrooksPoetry
29/8/2018
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC
no. 1, pop perfect record. The energy of dialing wars- each canvas has its temples splintered. Put down the smoking, and you can beat them with nerves. Your new revolution!
My father was your father until you had him shot while he was sleeping under his bed. Now you make popcorn and read the funny papers alone.
even. You bought me that cheap cologne from the mall. Thanks little brother.
[] True [] Love [] Story []
You hugger-mugger, slubberdegullion, crapulous lumming. Then enecate and banjax.
You have always been the logomachous one.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
God of mystery?
I don't think so!
A God who
Embraces
A transformer
Defender
Affirmer
Way clearer
Stand by you whatever-er.
A God who
Endures
A giver
Kisser
Hugger
Commender
Showing favour no matter-er
A God who
Comforts
A deliverer
Protector
Forgiver
Builder-upper-er
Never put downer.
A God who's
Proud of each of yer
His followers.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
I am not a morning person
Sun glaring through the curtains, birds chirping on the tree
Such a pretty sight i know, but you know whats prettier? Sleep.
Wake me up when the sun's shining and i. Will. **** You.
Coffee doesnt do the trick, neither does breakfast
so just let me sleep in — it'll do everyone a favor
"good morning!" Says the starbucks barista who trys to make conversation with me and all the while i am wishing for my drink to come faster as to prevent any further contact with any human being
Good night
I am not a hugger
Being that close to someone makes me cringe
Maybe im just not all about that intimacy thing and showing affection
Also have you ever hugged a girl?
You feel their ***** against you especially when they hug suuuper tight
Or maybe im just really afraid to let my guard down
Which is hard because when people know you dont like hugs
and you actually need a hug
No one will give you a hug and you just learn to **** it up and accept that the only hugging youll ever get is from your teddy bear at night
I am not a good conversationalist
As i have concluded and confirmed with my friends
It is hard to keep a conversation with me
I think its because most of the actual conversation is happening in my mind and my mouth cant follow through
I get scared to speak most of my thoughs because im scared of what other people think
And that leads me to not saying anything at all and that leads them to think i am shy and awkward
So no matter if i say anything or i dont, i will be judged
And theeeen i met him
And he was everything i wasnt
He was a morning person, a hugger, and the best person you can spend hours talking to
Suddenly
I began getting up earlier than usual
I started to eat breakfast and have an actual conversation with laughter at 8 in the morning
I say good morning back to the starbucks barista and find that morning interactions with human beings arent so bad after all
He gave the best hugs — the ones that make you feel warm, safe, and protected you just wanted to hibernate in his arms
When i feel his muscles squeeze me, i feel my sadness squeeze out of me little by little
And the best part? He doesnt have *****
He is the number one person who can hold a conversation with anyone
He always finds something to talk about
And makes the worst jokes
I feel comfortable with him
Like i can say anything and he'd understand
So thank you, because of him, i am a morning person, a hugger, and a good conversationalist
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
A stark realization.
I'm, for lack of a better word, obsessed with South Park.
Not like collectables, clothing, or other cluttered stuff.
But like ingrained into my personality, seriously, like a face hugger planting seeds in my core. Hatching into satirical, political, ridiculous obsession
Half my inside jokes.
The majority of my random noises.
Sewn within my vocabulary.
Constantly murmuring on the TV like old friends at dinner.
In my achievement list on Steam.
On my blu-ray shelf.
Gently nudging me with phone notifications to collect my free pack.
Definitely used in comparisons at work.
Equally tearing down the walls of anyone and everyone.
I eat it up.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 10:19 PM UTC
Alieness
I am a lover not a fighter
Sad that as we walk our ropes get tighter
I am a hugger not a hater
Sad that we hate instead of love one another
I am a nurturer not a nagger
Sad that we enjoy using words as daggers
I am a peacemaker not a pot-stirer
Sad that we lie and lose trust in one another
I am a human not an alieness
Sad that we deny ourselves instead of jointly progress
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
What words can describe the feelings he felt
when he met the girl so full of dreams and hope.
A girl who wanted to fix the world
and when she asked him those questions
his answer always was,
i will follow you anywhere.
He fell in love with a tree hugger
he loved her ways and her mother
but when she asked him the important questions
all he could say was that he would follow her anywhere.
she fascinated him with her power
how she wanted to find shangri-la
and discover things yet to be discovered
she would always tell him that the earth was such a strange and beautiful place
such a strange and beautiful place
that was being slowly wasted away
and all he said was i will follow you anywhere
she wore jeans and plaid shirts
and she wanted to protect the rainforests
she loved kids and all of their questions
but she needed more than he could give.
not all the faith in love in the world
could quench her ambiton
when her ambition
was bigger
than she was
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 12:13 PM UTC
The flower said i wish i was a tree
The tree said i wish i could be
A different kind of tree
The cat wished that it was a bee
The turtle wished that it could fly
Really high into the sky
Over rooftops and then dive deep into the sea
And in the sea there is a fish
A fish that is a secret wish
A wish to be a big cactus with a pink flower on it
And in the sea there is a fish
A fish that has a secret wish
A wish to be a big cactus with a pink flower on it
And the flower would be it's offering
To the desert so dry and lonely
And the desert so dry and lonely
So that all the animals apreaciate the effort
The rattle snake said "i wish i had hands
So i could hug you like a man"
And the cactus said "well don't you understand,
My skin is covered with sharp spikes
That'll stab you like a thousand knives.
I'm sure a hug would be nice
But hug my flower with your eyes"
The flower said i wish i was a tree
The tree said i wish i could be
A different kind of tree
The cat wished that it was a bee
The turtle wished that it could fly
Really high into the sky
Over rooftops and then dive
Deep into the sea
And in the sea we have a fish
A fish that has a secret wish
A wish to be a big cactus
With a pink flower on it
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
started the day hearing jokes about clitorectomies and other female bodyparts being mutilated. at lunch i learned that the bible predicts that a 'dark-skinned leader' signals the end times. the other morning i was the shouted subject of various ****** accusations while i went to **** in the woods, and called a ******* hippie-tree-hugger-faggot"... as a joke, .. test.. target of overspilling hate and ignorance.. i think. i've witnessed extreme homophobia combined with a disarmingly authentic homosexual playacting --a moment of hand-holding or flirtatious banter that almost convinces one of a sincere, sensitive fondness or even a vulnerable sexuality beneath the surface of these men.. yet alongside such blatant racism to drain the hope in humanity from any listener: "Ferguson hasn't made people crazy--it's made black people crazy... And people wonder why there are stereotypes... IT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE TRUE!!!" and comments like, "it's all about the Jews..." and "I think Obama is a **** randomly dot the conversational landscape of each day
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 3:09 AM UTC
No time to Shilly or to Shally.
No time to Dilly or to Dally.
If all you’ve got is Tittle-tattle
I’ll just up and go Skedaddle.
Got no time for Hugger-Mugger
Won’t put up with Argy-bargy
Rigamarole will have to go
Outside to eat yellow snow.
ljm
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 6:03 PM UTC
The first time we said hello, it was 3am on a Saturday and we were both at home working on our respective arts. Some malign god of internet romance decided to connect our two phones together from across the ether.
Three weeks later, you gripped me tight as I stepped off a bus and in that moment I felt like thin ice. Not standing on thin ice, Like I was made of it. Like if every shard of my being was leaning inwards, cracked yet holding itself together. I was afraid, yet the most alive I've ever been.
People say I'm not the best hugger. Those people would be right. But when our two solar systems pulled themselves apart you whispered to yourself. "I want to do that again."
People talk about the one that got away. Those people don't know the first thing about love; Love, love is a train that twists and turns and honestly by the time you get where you're going you don't know who is going to be standing on that station when you get off. Love is hoping that even though she leaves there is some forgotten deity that will pull her back into your arms when the time is right. Love is accepting that she, won't be pulled back. That maybe when the day is right; you'll see her painting in a gallery. Love is hoping that on that day, She'll still have your poems on her shelf.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 3:41 AM UTC
tumultuous tree-hugger terrorizing transnationals
nothing timid about firebombing the research lab
desperate attempt to save cancerous mice
and one old, dazed chimp subject
laws are meant to be outwitted
outdated equipment sit in ***** buckets
sprawled across the 1972 VW van floor
new world freedom fighter
too inebriated to understand injustice is just
the lack of social equality is equal to the abundance of cultural apathy
and yet, someone has to stand up for a cause
someone must right the wrongs
perpetrators perpetuate post-9/11 discord
throwing Muslims under tourist buses
an unshaved face sadly looks to the dirt underfoot
answers evade even nature
matted and disheveled hair hides a mind
bent on defeating the status quo
and limiting monetary political contributions
facilitating sweat-lodges and peyote ceremonies
seeking Zen through external chemical compounds
in a moment of clarity a thought crosses
what would I be doing
had Jerry lived?
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
Just as waves pass through,
My mind races of you
Third eye open
So my deepest dreams came true
Anew are they now
And still just a few
Things I need to keep
And I find them in my sleep
A dark haze is all I can gaze
When blazed the forest seems to end phase
Shifts from a daze to confusion
Or a craze, what happens when fusion
Of two hearts take place
Now I'm back here in this race
Driving on the Interstate, trying to prove
That this new state we created
Is something not to lose
A bruise or two shall surely
Make waves out of ripples
But ******* happens purely
For reasons, none but learning
I'm earning back the empathy
Feeling the telepathy, heart beats in clarity
The charity you gave me was clearly in the way
But you held true, like the pacific being blue
And you held me like a hugger holding trees
Even three blind mice could see your love for me
And they could judge me for churning our to be
To be we still shall, a gal of name Lovely,
And lovely she remains
Even after all the pain
She refrains from judgement or disdain
And the truth be known still
Our journey up this hill
A mountain with a view
So long as I climb it with you
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
My love for you is like the sunset through the tree line:
It shifts, shakes, blights at times and flourishes at others.
One thing is clear every time the day ends and
Those deep red rays touch the crown of my bowed head.
The trees do not move.
They are a constant I rely on far more than I’d admit.
The only way I could get rid of the trees
Would be if I cut them down…
I don’t have the heart to do that.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC