"hurls" poems - Hello Poetry

"hurls" poems

in making Marjorie god hurried a boy’s body on unsuspicious legs of girl. his left hand quarried the quartzlike face. his right slapped the amusing big vital vicious vegetable of her mouth. Upon the whole he suddenly clapped a tiny sunset of vermouth -colour. Hair. he put between her lips a moist mistake, whose fragrance hurls me into tears,as the dusty new- ness of her obsolete gaze begins to. lean…. a little against me, hen for two dollars i fill her hips with boys and girls.

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10.5k

In Making Marjorie God Hurried

in making Marjorie god hurried a boy’s body on unsuspicious legs of girl. his left hand quarried the quartzlike face. his right slapped the amusing big vital vicious vegetable of her mouth. Upon the whole he suddenly clapped a tiny sunset of vermouth -colour. Hair. he put between her lips a moist mistake, whose fragrance hurls me into tears,as the dusty new- ness of her obsolete gaze begins to. lean…. a little against me, hen for two dollars i fill her hips with boys and girls.

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Squeeze your feet into synthetic fins. See the world in big rubbery lenses. Don’t forget the snorkel, of course! Bite tight. Hobble to the shore, Where the two worlds meet. The sea splashes gently on the sand. It hurls itself forward And then recedes back. Its motions are like gestures, Telling you to draw close And closer. Its peaceful surface is an invitation itself, Painted blue and glittered with sunshine. Accept the invitation with gladness. Don't be afraid! Let the briny waters embrace you. Let the cold tickle your skin. Let the waves rock you back and forth. You have entered a grand ballroom Illuminated with a majestic chandelier of refracting sunlight. The colorful corals with shapes of mounds, disks, and crowns, Sway with the rhythm of the current. The fishes dance around and about, Each beaded with scales of various vibrant colors. And then the reef ends. The colors abruptly plunge into a black abyss. Look down and allow yourself to be Filled with fear, terror, Or maybe Insatiable curiosity. Now let that curiosity stir discontentment in you: Discontentment with snorkeling. Let it ignite a craving for More thrill, more wonder. It's time to go deep sea diving.

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Oct 30, 2013

Oct 30, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC

marge-redelicia

Squeeze your feet into synthetic fins. See the world in big rubbery lenses. Don’t forget the snorkel, of course! Bite tight. Hobble to the shore, Where the two worlds meet. The sea splashes gently on the sand. It hurls itself forward And then recedes back. Its motions are like gestures, Telling you to draw close And closer. Its peaceful surface is an invitation itself, Painted blue and glittered with sunshine. Accept the invitation with gladness. Don't be afraid! Let the briny waters embrace you. Let the cold tickle your skin. Let the waves rock you back and forth. You have entered a grand ballroom Illuminated with a majestic chandelier of refracting sunlight. The colorful corals with shapes of mounds, disks, and crowns, Sway with the rhythm of the current. The fishes dance around and about, Each beaded with scales of various vibrant colors. And then the reef ends. The colors abruptly plunge into a black abyss. Look down and allow yourself to be Filled with fear, terror, Or maybe Insatiable curiosity. Now let that curiosity stir discontentment in you: Discontentment with snorkeling. Let it ignite a craving for More thrill, more wonder. It's time to go deep sea diving.

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Fingers cut palms as hands turn to stone And a catapult hurls the projectile home Knuckles collapse from bone meeting bone Down in the alleys where miscreants roam Suggestions of violence fill gutters with blood Fill heads with the sense of nefarious thrill Their skin turns to ash and their brains into mud Rage in the kingdom of eager to **** The children are soldiers who train everyday Cowboys and Indians, Robbers and Cops ****** is plot and the actors will play Portraying the place life will come to a stop Violence is cancer, and love is no more Edge of our seats waiting for the next war Dedicated to the deceased and forgotten, Love and Peace

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Oct 5, 2013

Oct 5, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC

Violence, a sonnet

Fingers cut palms as hands turn to stone And a catapult hurls the projectile home Knuckles collapse from bone meeting bone Down in the alleys where miscreants roam Suggestions of violence fill gutters with blood Fill heads with the sense of nefarious thrill Their skin turns to ash and their brains into mud Rage in the kingdom of eager to **** The children are soldiers who train everyday Cowboys and Indians, Robbers and Cops ****** is plot and the actors will play Portraying the place life will come to a stop Violence is cancer, and love is no more Edge of our seats waiting for the next war Dedicated to the deceased and forgotten, Love and Peace

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Partly darkened and part in light A time when the stars and sun shared the sky Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might Impending clash foreseen to go awry Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends Each bearing their own solid ideals Their flags that flew with conflicting brands Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels Almost an eternity, the time is soon Seconds lasted before they finally would meet Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon With war cries of whistles, they would greet No possible way that they could miss War waged in steeled wills and forged metals Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals Sheer destruction as they ate into each other All in tow haphazardly derailed A clash made of brute strength and power A result of when decisiveness had failed All was motionless save for the light of day The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray Signifying that the two have met their goal Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance Determination to overwhelm; never to languish Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance Almost at end this long drawn battle Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out When the last of the debris should settle Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath Shedding light on the devastation incurred Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused Found great solace in the dark words I've governed Life still hurls; it can never be paused Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened

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Sep 29, 2014

Sep 29, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC

Collision Course (III)

Partly darkened and part in light A time when the stars and sun shared the sky Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might Impending clash foreseen to go awry Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends Each bearing their own solid ideals Their flags that flew with conflicting brands Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels Almost an eternity, the time is soon Seconds lasted before they finally would meet Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon With war cries of whistles, they would greet No possible way that they could miss War waged in steeled wills and forged metals Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals Sheer destruction as they ate into each other All in tow haphazardly derailed A clash made of brute strength and power A result of when decisiveness had failed All was motionless save for the light of day The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray Signifying that the two have met their goal Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance Determination to overwhelm; never to languish Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance Almost at end this long drawn battle Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out When the last of the debris should settle Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath Shedding light on the devastation incurred Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused Found great solace in the dark words I've governed Life still hurls; it can never be paused Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened

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Blaze of a rubble-car a man in faded jeans shouts, hurls a bottle -- smash -- a thousand shards of broken glass shine orange on crowded street. Shouts, cries, infants sobbing loud---sirens, car alarms, a man ***** back his hand, holding a brick---the crack of a driver's-side window breaking. Wild yells---everyone is sprinting. Fire & wailing. Sunny afternoon---birds sing in treetops; a woman under shade on sunlit grass in brown rags & an old hijab sobs over a slab of concrete, decorated with flowers and a photograph with a golden frame.

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Nov 4, 2013

Nov 4, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC

Blaze of a rubble-car a man in faded jeans shouts, hurls a bottle -- smash -- a thousand shards of broken glass shine orange on crowded street. Shouts, cries, infants sobbing loud---sirens, car alarms, a man ***** back his hand, holding a brick---the crack of a driver's-side window breaking. Wild yells---everyone is sprinting. Fire & wailing. Sunny afternoon---birds sing in treetops; a woman under shade on sunlit grass in brown rags & an old hijab sobs over a slab of concrete, decorated with flowers and a photograph with a golden frame.

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And now, the sickness presents itself on my face. It arrives in the form of two dark circles, The color of a stranger’s shadow, Which linger beneath eyes That have seen too little of the world. It arrives in the form of skin so sallow, Of cheekbones so sunken, Of a mouth too tired to open And say all the words I wish held more meaning. And I long for sleep, I ache for sleep. As the hours pass, My limbs become as weak as my will. If I only had an enemy lesser than consciousness, I could have won by now. But every time I envision the sweet escape Of unconsciousness, My broken-record-mind violently hurls me back Into my abandoned realm of reality.

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Nov 2, 2012

Nov 2, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC

And now, the sickness presents itself on my face. It arrives in the form of two dark circles, The color of a stranger’s shadow, Which linger beneath eyes That have seen too little of the world. It arrives in the form of skin so sallow, Of cheekbones so sunken, Of a mouth too tired to open And say all the words I wish held more meaning. And I long for sleep, I ache for sleep. As the hours pass, My limbs become as weak as my will. If I only had an enemy lesser than consciousness, I could have won by now. But every time I envision the sweet escape Of unconsciousness, My broken-record-mind violently hurls me back Into my abandoned realm of reality.

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The non-planet, poor Pluto, Circling far out and forgotten, I cast my thoughts around you, Knowing you are like many here, Too insignificant to be noticed, And yet, still worthwhile, for sure. I caress the cold of Neptune, Her super speed winds whip by, She has no thought for me, too busy, As is her sister, Uranus, circling, Unaware that I, or others, even exist, Yet, we are made of the same stuff, Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us. My thoughts come leaping back, Arcing around the rings of Saturn, Slipping between sparkling icy dust, Navigating the dark reaching fingers, Stretching impassively from their host, Guiding my eye to the little moons, Knowing that life might thrive there. I somersault away to King Jupiter, He used to wander, he battled hard, Casting out the rogue gas giant, Clearing the way for the rocky worlds, Giving life to us all, before drifting back, Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages, The red spot storm churning, his moons, Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers. And we, the rocky four, so grateful, As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it, Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn, Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars, Too cold, for now, but one day, yes, As we begin to bake, Mars awaits, To welcome us for a million years, or so, A blink of an eye, universally speaking, But home has hope, hope offers life, Unlike our unwanted distant cousin, The non-planet, poor Pluto. ©Paul M Chafer 2015

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Apr 5, 2015

Apr 5, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC

No hope for Pluto

The non-planet, poor Pluto, Circling far out and forgotten, I cast my thoughts around you, Knowing you are like many here, Too insignificant to be noticed, And yet, still worthwhile, for sure. I caress the cold of Neptune, Her super speed winds whip by, She has no thought for me, too busy, As is her sister, Uranus, circling, Unaware that I, or others, even exist, Yet, we are made of the same stuff, Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us. My thoughts come leaping back, Arcing around the rings of Saturn, Slipping between sparkling icy dust, Navigating the dark reaching fingers, Stretching impassively from their host, Guiding my eye to the little moons, Knowing that life might thrive there. I somersault away to King Jupiter, He used to wander, he battled hard, Casting out the rogue gas giant, Clearing the way for the rocky worlds, Giving life to us all, before drifting back, Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages, The red spot storm churning, his moons, Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers. And we, the rocky four, so grateful, As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it, Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn, Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars, Too cold, for now, but one day, yes, As we begin to bake, Mars awaits, To welcome us for a million years, or so, A blink of an eye, universally speaking, But home has hope, hope offers life, Unlike our unwanted distant cousin, The non-planet, poor Pluto. ©Paul M Chafer 2015

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I - WORDS LIKE PRISMS The crystal awaits the perfect slant of sun. The world turns just so and refracted light Hurls a color blaze against the wall. So it is when a long awaited word Forms on the lips of the wise. II - WORDS LIKE FLAX In the fire of conflict, Words fall to the floor like mounds of charred flax. Red–faced saints gather clumps to themselves To spin into finest thread for self-flattering raiment. III - WORDS WITHOUT WORDS When pain burrows deep in the marrow Where words cannot assuage A gentle touch can bleed some out And channel hope back in. No words can spell a kind caress. IV - POISON WORDS Beware the charismatic Carrying a jar of poison pills! Cover your glass when he passes your way Or he’ll slip one in unawares. V - LAUGHING WORDS Absurdities and failures are the stuff of jokes. Long live non sequiturs and double entendres! We love a clumsy tumble into the drink As long as nobody drowns. VI - WORDS FOR BUILDING Of course you can! I place my total trust in you. VII - WORD PAINTING Mister Frost's words never made a wood Or caused a harness bell to shake. Even so I’d travel many miles To see his imagined snow accumulate. VIII - THE GIFT My cat, Zoe, never says a word to me! He doesn't have the tongue or lips or larynx for it. He cannot fit his paws around a pen. His brain’s too small for metaphors. The gift belongs to us alone. To craft words to build or **** or heal. Forgive us Zoe for doing little with so much. July, 2006

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Jul 30, 2013

Jul 30, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC

robert-c-howard

Mightiest of Swords

I - WORDS LIKE PRISMS The crystal awaits the perfect slant of sun. The world turns just so and refracted light Hurls a color blaze against the wall. So it is when a long awaited word Forms on the lips of the wise. II - WORDS LIKE FLAX In the fire of conflict, Words fall to the floor like mounds of charred flax. Red–faced saints gather clumps to themselves To spin into finest thread for self-flattering raiment. III - WORDS WITHOUT WORDS When pain burrows deep in the marrow Where words cannot assuage A gentle touch can bleed some out And channel hope back in. No words can spell a kind caress. IV - POISON WORDS Beware the charismatic Carrying a jar of poison pills! Cover your glass when he passes your way Or he’ll slip one in unawares. V - LAUGHING WORDS Absurdities and failures are the stuff of jokes. Long live non sequiturs and double entendres! We love a clumsy tumble into the drink As long as nobody drowns. VI - WORDS FOR BUILDING Of course you can! I place my total trust in you. VII - WORD PAINTING Mister Frost's words never made a wood Or caused a harness bell to shake. Even so I’d travel many miles To see his imagined snow accumulate. VIII - THE GIFT My cat, Zoe, never says a word to me! He doesn't have the tongue or lips or larynx for it. He cannot fit his paws around a pen. His brain’s too small for metaphors. The gift belongs to us alone. To craft words to build or **** or heal. Forgive us Zoe for doing little with so much. July, 2006

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Do you think, the earth and the outer space are lovers She asked Do you think even after all of the meteors that outer space hurls towards earth They’re still lovers? Do you think they still enjoy each others company Even though they're killing each other? When all is said and done, the earth and outer space Do not care what anyone says at the end of the day they love each other They let their stars shine rather than their black holes show through Are we, like the earth and outer space? Although we scream and fight and throw awful words at each other Are we still lovers? Are we as stronger as two opposites? Because no matter how much space we may endure my magnetic force Always brings you closer… So I ask are we like the earth and outer space, or are we a lost cause, an ending race?

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May 5, 2013

May 5, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC

The earth and outer space

Do you think, the earth and the outer space are lovers She asked Do you think even after all of the meteors that outer space hurls towards earth They’re still lovers? Do you think they still enjoy each others company Even though they're killing each other? When all is said and done, the earth and outer space Do not care what anyone says at the end of the day they love each other They let their stars shine rather than their black holes show through Are we, like the earth and outer space? Although we scream and fight and throw awful words at each other Are we still lovers? Are we as stronger as two opposites? Because no matter how much space we may endure my magnetic force Always brings you closer… So I ask are we like the earth and outer space, or are we a lost cause, an ending race?

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*Let loneliness' tears explode and be transformed into thousand moaning stars tonight, As... My universe whips with meteors... Slashing the earth's flesh, with scorching ***** of fire. My universe cries an august rain... Leaving the earth in deep waters, breathless, it won't survive. My universe hurls hails... Crashing the earth's face. My universe whispers comets... Making the earth sigh with fiery passion. My universe frets in pain... Deafening sound echoes in earth's hollow station. That... My universe in my arms is collapsing... And I, the earth, am dying with him.*

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May 10, 2015

May 10, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC

iammissbrightside

*Let loneliness' tears explode and be transformed into thousand moaning stars tonight, As... My universe whips with meteors... Slashing the earth's flesh, with scorching ***** of fire. My universe cries an august rain... Leaving the earth in deep waters, breathless, it won't survive. My universe hurls hails... Crashing the earth's face. My universe whispers comets... Making the earth sigh with fiery passion. My universe frets in pain... Deafening sound echoes in earth's hollow station. That... My universe in my arms is collapsing... And I, the earth, am dying with him.*

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Death descends like the statement of a credit card; life goes on in eight columns, sometimes six, dropping out should have been an option, instead my world is turning pages while I am just sitting here listening to atrophy whisper through a megaphone: “It’s better to fade away than to burn out, let champagne supper turn to bile by breakfast, bark up a fake plastic lemon tree till she hurls pomo grenades at you.” The streetlife serenade is recklessly tempting, in the club the girls in ***** shirts come and go, talking of Felu, Neru, Derri… da, what inertia! Sitting in a club with so many fools(,) playing to rules, Hell is a blank generation with no vacancy, I’m doubting Thom: meeting people isn’t easy, Them clones in rubber souls from fab India try to impale me right next to the paintbox, In she walks, head going nowhere close to the oven, eyes me like a Pisces riding shotgun on a WAG, says growing older in the rain ought not be done all alone. Bring on the moonshine, dancing days are here again! Happiness was Scotch Mist, now it’s suddenly a goal, It’s past AM on a holiday, do I wanna know if this isn’t, like always, just un-certain platonish bromance? Or will she journey with me till the end of the night? Optimism is fleeting, afraid to commit, tends to elope, Pray that she lingers long enough: I need a feel-good poem. There’s a restaurant at the end of the universe, I’ve heard the well-done steak they serve is actually rare but their awesomesauce can make us live forever, we can make it there in time if we slide away right now, and if in the morning we don’t know what to do, I’ll toast the bread, I’ll make the bed, she can make my day.

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May 15, 2015

May 15, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC

Death descends like the statement of a credit card; life goes on in eight columns, sometimes six, dropping out should have been an option, instead my world is turning pages while I am just sitting here listening to atrophy whisper through a megaphone: “It’s better to fade away than to burn out, let champagne supper turn to bile by breakfast, bark up a fake plastic lemon tree till she hurls pomo grenades at you.” The streetlife serenade is recklessly tempting, in the club the girls in ***** shirts come and go, talking of Felu, Neru, Derri… da, what inertia! Sitting in a club with so many fools(,) playing to rules, Hell is a blank generation with no vacancy, I’m doubting Thom: meeting people isn’t easy, Them clones in rubber souls from fab India try to impale me right next to the paintbox, In she walks, head going nowhere close to the oven, eyes me like a Pisces riding shotgun on a WAG, says growing older in the rain ought not be done all alone. Bring on the moonshine, dancing days are here again! Happiness was Scotch Mist, now it’s suddenly a goal, It’s past AM on a holiday, do I wanna know if this isn’t, like always, just un-certain platonish bromance? Or will she journey with me till the end of the night? Optimism is fleeting, afraid to commit, tends to elope, Pray that she lingers long enough: I need a feel-good poem. There’s a restaurant at the end of the universe, I’ve heard the well-done steak they serve is actually rare but their awesomesauce can make us live forever, we can make it there in time if we slide away right now, and if in the morning we don’t know what to do, I’ll toast the bread, I’ll make the bed, she can make my day.

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8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables And is mute again— But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted Brother Gave his breath away. Wherever runs the breathless sun— Wherever roams the day— There is its noiseless onset— There is its victory! Behold the keenest marksman! The most accomplished shot! Time’s sublimest target Is a soul “forgot!”

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2.3k

Emily Dickinson

There is a word

8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables And is mute again— But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted Brother Gave his breath away. Wherever runs the breathless sun— Wherever roams the day— There is its noiseless onset— There is its victory! Behold the keenest marksman! The most accomplished shot! Time’s sublimest target Is a soul “forgot!”

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Cities aren't cities, The people are the cities, she'd say, and I didn't understand what she meant until I realised That Hauz Khas was our first stroll ever, Khan Market- our best cup of coffee, Humayun Tomb- our first stolen kiss, Dilli Haat- our first quarrel, The Lodhi Gardens- our biggest quarrel! The Jama Masjid was where we'd always make up. Now I know which market sells her favourite bags, which gully keeps the anklets she loves most, which discrete stall in the by-lanes of Old Delhi is her best chaat-wallah ever, Every nook, I know by the fragrance of her memory, I try forget, I try erase, But oh, I remember, For she is my Delhi Delhi is her, only her, The city of first love, first dreams, a million rights, a devastating wrong, The city that now stings with the thorns That make my feet bleed when I try to enter, Even with my back turned, The city hurls Stones at my fragile heart and screams at me to never return. I'll never return.

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Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC

Cities aren't cities, The people are the cities, she'd say, and I didn't understand what she meant until I realised That Hauz Khas was our first stroll ever, Khan Market- our best cup of coffee, Humayun Tomb- our first stolen kiss, Dilli Haat- our first quarrel, The Lodhi Gardens- our biggest quarrel! The Jama Masjid was where we'd always make up. Now I know which market sells her favourite bags, which gully keeps the anklets she loves most, which discrete stall in the by-lanes of Old Delhi is her best chaat-wallah ever, Every nook, I know by the fragrance of her memory, I try forget, I try erase, But oh, I remember, For she is my Delhi Delhi is her, only her, The city of first love, first dreams, a million rights, a devastating wrong, The city that now stings with the thorns That make my feet bleed when I try to enter, Even with my back turned, The city hurls Stones at my fragile heart and screams at me to never return. I'll never return.

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*the droplets of water are singing a trail down the bricks of the houses through the alleys of the glassy-eyed broken people with soft hearts, a pre-disposition for death weaving a tabooed trail across the sidewalks that when gazed upon reeks of obscurity and leaving faint lines on the creased skin of all the sinewy fatalities the mildewed rain peaks across the rusted windowsill that sighs with familiarity it sloshes against the children’s playground and slaps at the pavement with a sudden clarity it empties itself into the spiked maze of the tree branch hoping the leafs will cling onto to it dearly it mellows into a pond that breaks apart with sharp staccatos when mushy feet run down the street and it hurls itself into the bitterly sweet lips of two frost-bitten lovers who will soon meet it daintily steps into the burning embers of the flame, only to be flushed out in shame it turns to the shower as a last resort, but whines in dismay when it’s slurped down the drain it embraces the eyelashes until it’s shaken in misery and then watches wearily as it’s blinked away in positivity it lumbers down the path of the bruised ego, a shattering of phrases that leaves the person’s mouth and before it has the chance to drop it is scooped up and chastised until it moves no more the tears and the rain drops wander listlessly for all of eternity only to be hastily thrown away or brushed into cotton for fear of a restless divinity it is never to reach a destination and only doomed to be forgotten and so it seems dear friends, that raindrops are simply you and me*

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Sep 18, 2013

Sep 18, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC

the weary tale of a raindrop

*the droplets of water are singing a trail down the bricks of the houses through the alleys of the glassy-eyed broken people with soft hearts, a pre-disposition for death weaving a tabooed trail across the sidewalks that when gazed upon reeks of obscurity and leaving faint lines on the creased skin of all the sinewy fatalities the mildewed rain peaks across the rusted windowsill that sighs with familiarity it sloshes against the children’s playground and slaps at the pavement with a sudden clarity it empties itself into the spiked maze of the tree branch hoping the leafs will cling onto to it dearly it mellows into a pond that breaks apart with sharp staccatos when mushy feet run down the street and it hurls itself into the bitterly sweet lips of two frost-bitten lovers who will soon meet it daintily steps into the burning embers of the flame, only to be flushed out in shame it turns to the shower as a last resort, but whines in dismay when it’s slurped down the drain it embraces the eyelashes until it’s shaken in misery and then watches wearily as it’s blinked away in positivity it lumbers down the path of the bruised ego, a shattering of phrases that leaves the person’s mouth and before it has the chance to drop it is scooped up and chastised until it moves no more the tears and the rain drops wander listlessly for all of eternity only to be hastily thrown away or brushed into cotton for fear of a restless divinity it is never to reach a destination and only doomed to be forgotten and so it seems dear friends, that raindrops are simply you and me*

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I've Heard These Words ... Throughout My Life ... "TWO WRONGS Virge, DON'T Make A Right !" If ... That's The Case ... ? These Quests For WAR ... Would Seem To Be ... Somewhat ................................................ Misplaced ............... !?! If You ... PUNCH Me In My Face ... Should I ... PUNCH You Back ... ?!? These Days I'd Say ... YES ... !!! How'd You ... Feel About THAT ... !?! Do You ... Think I've ... FLIPPED ... !!! ? !!! Do You ... Think I'm ... SICK ... ?!? Do You Think ... You're EQUIPPED ... To Be My ... " Shrink " ... ??? I'm Writing This Piece ... cos' of ... DANGEROUS Streets ... !!! cos' of People Like ... " Blair " ... !!! Who ... Should NOT Speak ... !!!! What Kind of ... " Leader " ... ? Is ... SO weak ... To KEEP Talking of War ... Instead of ... Peace ... ?!? People Over Here ... Are Losing ............................................................ Sleep .......... While Things He Says ... PROVES ... " Talk Is Cheap " ... !!! People Are Murdered ... ..... EVERYDAY ..... !!!!! So ... Killing MORE ... CAN'T BE The Way .... !?!?! Maybe ... It IS ... ?!? What Do You Say ... ??? TWO WRONGS Folks ... So ... What's The Quote ... ? "TWO WRONGS Virge, DON'T Make Things Right !" Phrases ... Like THIS ... Are SO ... " Contrived " ... "NEVER Say NEVER !" "But You've Said It TWICE ?" Those Words AREN'T MINE ... !!! But Are ... DIVINE ... !!! and SHOW YOU ... TRUST ... What's In ... " Your Mind " ... !!! ... Everything ... Is NOT ... Clear Cut ... !!! ... Contradictions ... Are ... Messed Up ... !!! How Many WRONGS ... ? Do Governments DO ... ? But Are ... QUICK To Say ... What's Right For ... YOU ... !?! How Many Girls ... Say ... " Men Are Fools !" ... ??? But Then Have *** ... Cos' A Guy ... Looks Cool ... ? See What I Mean ... ? Well ... If You DON'T ... Let's Go Back ... To My ... " Favourite Quote " ... "TWO WRONGS Folks, DON'T Make Things Right !" Like ... TRYING To .............. "hide" .... A .... BLATANT LIE .... ?!? When You ... Get ... FOUND OUT ... DON'T ... " SCREAM and SHOUT " ... !!! Just Let THESE WORDS ... Come Out Your Mouth ... "TWO WRONGS, Just DON'T Make Things Right !" Is It Getting to you ... ? Cos' It's ... Part of Life ... !!! But I'm NOT Sure ... ? If It's ... SO PURE ... ?!? Could TWO WRONGS ... Provide A ... " CURE " ... ? Let Me ... Explain ... What I Mean ... If Your Girls' ... UNFAITHFUL ... This Might ... FIX HER ... Jump In Bed ... YES ... With Her ... SISTER ... !!!!! This Will ... Probably ... Get Her ... VEX ... But Should ... "Control" ... Her Wandering ......................................................... Legs .......... !!!!! Girls' .... How's THIS One ... ??? Just For YOU ... If Your Man Hurls ABUSE ... Put Some ... SOAP In His ... " Food " ... !!! This May ... Get You ... In A ... " Fix " ... ?!? But ... May ... "CONTROL" ... His ... FOUL MOUTHED Lips ... !!! Let Me ... Make This ... CLEAR TO YOU ... !!! These Are Things You ... ... SHOULD NOT DO ... !!!! I'm Merely Suggesting ... Things You Could Do ... ? To BALANCE ... Wrong Doings ... Done To ... YOU ... !!! But If You'd Rather ... ... " Play It Cool " ... You Probably Have ... A ... " Peaceful Life " ... !!! and ... Like The AD Says ... " Your Future Looks Bright ! " But DRAMAS Now ... Aren't SHORT But ...... Looooooooooooonnnnnnnnnngggggggg ...... !!!!! So Maybe ... " Sometimes " ... ??? What's Right .... IS .... ... " TWO WRONGS " ...

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Jun 29, 2019

Jun 29, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC

"Two Wrongs" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 12/7/2005

I've Heard These Words ... Throughout My Life ... "TWO WRONGS Virge, DON'T Make A Right !" If ... That's The Case ... ? These Quests For WAR ... Would Seem To Be ... Somewhat ................................................ Misplaced ............... !?! If You ... PUNCH Me In My Face ... Should I ... PUNCH You Back ... ?!? These Days I'd Say ... YES ... !!! How'd You ... Feel About THAT ... !?! Do You ... Think I've ... FLIPPED ... !!! ? !!! Do You ... Think I'm ... SICK ... ?!? Do You Think ... You're EQUIPPED ... To Be My ... " Shrink " ... ??? I'm Writing This Piece ... cos' of ... DANGEROUS Streets ... !!! cos' of People Like ... " Blair " ... !!! Who ... Should NOT Speak ... !!!! What Kind of ... " Leader " ... ? Is ... SO weak ... To KEEP Talking of War ... Instead of ... Peace ... ?!? People Over Here ... Are Losing ............................................................ Sleep .......... While Things He Says ... PROVES ... " Talk Is Cheap " ... !!! People Are Murdered ... ..... EVERYDAY ..... !!!!! So ... Killing MORE ... CAN'T BE The Way .... !?!?! Maybe ... It IS ... ?!? What Do You Say ... ??? TWO WRONGS Folks ... So ... What's The Quote ... ? "TWO WRONGS Virge, DON'T Make Things Right !" Phrases ... Like THIS ... Are SO ... " Contrived " ... "NEVER Say NEVER !" "But You've Said It TWICE ?" Those Words AREN'T MINE ... !!! But Are ... DIVINE ... !!! and SHOW YOU ... TRUST ... What's In ... " Your Mind " ... !!! ... Everything ... Is NOT ... Clear Cut ... !!! ... Contradictions ... Are ... Messed Up ... !!! How Many WRONGS ... ? Do Governments DO ... ? But Are ... QUICK To Say ... What's Right For ... YOU ... !?! How Many Girls ... Say ... " Men Are Fools !" ... ??? But Then Have *** ... Cos' A Guy ... Looks Cool ... ? See What I Mean ... ? Well ... If You DON'T ... Let's Go Back ... To My ... " Favourite Quote " ... "TWO WRONGS Folks, DON'T Make Things Right !" Like ... TRYING To .............. "hide" .... A .... BLATANT LIE .... ?!? When You ... Get ... FOUND OUT ... DON'T ... " SCREAM and SHOUT " ... !!! Just Let THESE WORDS ... Come Out Your Mouth ... "TWO WRONGS, Just DON'T Make Things Right !" Is It Getting to you ... ? Cos' It's ... Part of Life ... !!! But I'm NOT Sure ... ? If It's ... SO PURE ... ?!? Could TWO WRONGS ... Provide A ... " CURE " ... ? Let Me ... Explain ... What I Mean ... If Your Girls' ... UNFAITHFUL ... This Might ... FIX HER ... Jump In Bed ... YES ... With Her ... SISTER ... !!!!! This Will ... Probably ... Get Her ... VEX ... But Should ... "Control" ... Her Wandering ......................................................... Legs .......... !!!!! Girls' .... How's THIS One ... ??? Just For YOU ... If Your Man Hurls ABUSE ... Put Some ... SOAP In His ... " Food " ... !!! This May ... Get You ... In A ... " Fix " ... ?!? But ... May ... "CONTROL" ... His ... FOUL MOUTHED Lips ... !!! Let Me ... Make This ... CLEAR TO YOU ... !!! These Are Things You ... ... SHOULD NOT DO ... !!!! I'm Merely Suggesting ... Things You Could Do ... ? To BALANCE ... Wrong Doings ... Done To ... YOU ... !!! But If You'd Rather ... ... " Play It Cool " ... You Probably Have ... A ... " Peaceful Life " ... !!! and ... Like The AD Says ... " Your Future Looks Bright ! " But DRAMAS Now ... Aren't SHORT But ...... Looooooooooooonnnnnnnnnngggggggg ...... !!!!! So Maybe ... " Sometimes " ... ??? What's Right .... IS .... ... " TWO WRONGS " ...

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To see this old man shaking here In rage at boys whose apple-throwing jeers Reduce him to impotent rage and tears Is to know Odysseus, home from Troy, Battle spent, no Cyclops left to blind, And no more Stygian puzzles to unwind. The threats he hurls are hollow stones Coming now from a man whose bones Once cracked beneath a decking plank As Scylla searched with serpent heads For men to crush and swallow, dead, But Nob'dy now remains to save the day. The hapless tree whose apples green are peltering his home Is now an oar, pole-planted tall a thousand miles ashore As penance for the years of taunting gods of wave and foam, And boys be savages unaware of what an apple's for.

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Apr 22, 2015

Apr 22, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC

My Grandfather, Odysseus

To see this old man shaking here In rage at boys whose apple-throwing jeers Reduce him to impotent rage and tears Is to know Odysseus, home from Troy, Battle spent, no Cyclops left to blind, And no more Stygian puzzles to unwind. The threats he hurls are hollow stones Coming now from a man whose bones Once cracked beneath a decking plank As Scylla searched with serpent heads For men to crush and swallow, dead, But Nob'dy now remains to save the day. The hapless tree whose apples green are peltering his home Is now an oar, pole-planted tall a thousand miles ashore As penance for the years of taunting gods of wave and foam, And boys be savages unaware of what an apple's for.

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sometimes life, it hurls pain at our window we are forced to dodge deafening blows touch the glass, just to pray it won't shatter take a chance, just to see how it goes but the trials that we face could destroy us the decision: cave in or survive and sometimes we feel like we're dying whilst the fire in our veins stays alive but the pain that we feel simply tests us we tell a story with every scar one day we'll sit back and remember while rejoicing in all that we are when the light filters through in the morning the shadows at your door will subside as your strength rises up with the sunlight you'll forget all the tears that you cried

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Jun 24, 2014

Jun 24, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC

sometimes life, it hurls pain at our window we are forced to dodge deafening blows touch the glass, just to pray it won't shatter take a chance, just to see how it goes but the trials that we face could destroy us the decision: cave in or survive and sometimes we feel like we're dying whilst the fire in our veins stays alive but the pain that we feel simply tests us we tell a story with every scar one day we'll sit back and remember while rejoicing in all that we are when the light filters through in the morning the shadows at your door will subside as your strength rises up with the sunlight you'll forget all the tears that you cried

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The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain. Read on the mighty pall, The **** of funeral That covers praise and blame, The -isms and the -anities, Magnificence and shame:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" The Fates are subtle girls! They give us chaff for grain. And Time, the Thunderer, hurls, Like bolted death, disdain At all that heart and brain Conceive, or great or small, Upon this earthly ball. Would you be knight and dame? Or woo the sweet humanities? Or illustrate a name? O Vanity of Vanities! We sound the sea for pearls, Or drown them in a drain; We flute it with the merles, Or tug and sweat and strain; We grovel, or we reign; We saunter, or we brawl; We search the stars for Fame, Or sink her subterranities; The legend's still the same:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" Here at the wine one birls, There some one clanks a chain. The flag that this man furls That man to float is fain. Pleasure gives place to pain: These in the kennel crawl, While others take the wall. She has a glorious aim, He lives for the inanities. What come of every claim? O Vanity of Vanities! Alike are clods and earls. For sot, and seer, and swain, For emperors and for churls, For antidote and bane, There is but one refrain: But one for king and thrall, For David and for Saul, For fleet of foot and lame, For pieties and profanities, The picture and the frame:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" Life is a smoke that curls-- Curls in a flickering skein, That winds and whisks and whirls, A figment thin and vain, Into the vast Inane. One end for hut and hall! One end for cell and stall! Burned in one common flame Are wisdoms and insanities. For this alone we came:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" Envoy Prince, pride must have a fall. What is the worth of all Your state's supreme urbanities? Bad at the best's the game. Well might the Sage exclaim:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!"

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1.6k

William Ernest Henley

Double Ballade on the Nothingness of Things

The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain. Read on the mighty pall, The **** of funeral That covers praise and blame, The -isms and the -anities, Magnificence and shame:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" The Fates are subtle girls! They give us chaff for grain. And Time, the Thunderer, hurls, Like bolted death, disdain At all that heart and brain Conceive, or great or small, Upon this earthly ball. Would you be knight and dame? Or woo the sweet humanities? Or illustrate a name? O Vanity of Vanities! We sound the sea for pearls, Or drown them in a drain; We flute it with the merles, Or tug and sweat and strain; We grovel, or we reign; We saunter, or we brawl; We search the stars for Fame, Or sink her subterranities; The legend's still the same:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" Here at the wine one birls, There some one clanks a chain. The flag that this man furls That man to float is fain. Pleasure gives place to pain: These in the kennel crawl, While others take the wall. She has a glorious aim, He lives for the inanities. What come of every claim? O Vanity of Vanities! Alike are clods and earls. For sot, and seer, and swain, For emperors and for churls, For antidote and bane, There is but one refrain: But one for king and thrall, For David and for Saul, For fleet of foot and lame, For pieties and profanities, The picture and the frame:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" Life is a smoke that curls-- Curls in a flickering skein, That winds and whisks and whirls, A figment thin and vain, Into the vast Inane. One end for hut and hall! One end for cell and stall! Burned in one common flame Are wisdoms and insanities. For this alone we came:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!" Envoy Prince, pride must have a fall. What is the worth of all Your state's supreme urbanities? Bad at the best's the game. Well might the Sage exclaim:-- "O Vanity of Vanities!"

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My soul clanks when the hammer of Truth hits And beflats my whole existence, that rusty one sits On the anvil, there I lie half conscious, half sleep stricken, My Smith hurls and my soul clanks! Had I been plastic rust wouldn't dare to touch it! I would be perfect to be moulded into a dummy, A gentle lifeless creature, dancing on the notes of their fingers, Loved and longed, and the sleep's harbinger; In a sick fluke as metal I was sent, Strong against storms yet vulnerable to the wind. O my Smith! Would you make a tool out of me? Or am I long gone? An useless fish out of the pond? Are my pores too many? O my Smith! Hit me Until I be the sword of a king's pawn.

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Sep 5, 2018

Sep 5, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC

My soul clanks when the hammer of Truth hits And beflats my whole existence, that rusty one sits On the anvil, there I lie half conscious, half sleep stricken, My Smith hurls and my soul clanks! Had I been plastic rust wouldn't dare to touch it! I would be perfect to be moulded into a dummy, A gentle lifeless creature, dancing on the notes of their fingers, Loved and longed, and the sleep's harbinger; In a sick fluke as metal I was sent, Strong against storms yet vulnerable to the wind. O my Smith! Would you make a tool out of me? Or am I long gone? An useless fish out of the pond? Are my pores too many? O my Smith! Hit me Until I be the sword of a king's pawn.

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The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain. Read on the mighty pall, The **** of funeral That covers praise and blame, The--isms and the--anities, Magnificence and shame:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' The Fates are subtile girls! They give us chaff for grain. And Time, the Thunderer, hurls, Like bolted death, disdain At all that heart and brain Conceive, or great or small, Upon this earthly ball. Would you be knight and dame? Or woo the sweet humanities? Or illustrate a name? O Vanity of Vanities! We sound the sea for pearls, Or drown them in a drain; We flute it with the merles, Or tug and sweat and strain; We grovel, or we reign; We saunter, or we brawl; We answer, or we call; We search the stars for Fame, Or sink her subterranities; The legend's still the same:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' Here at the wine one birls, There some one clanks a chain. The flag that this man furls That man to float is fain. Pleasure gives place to pain: These in the kennel crawl, While others take the wall. She has a glorious aim, He lives for the inanities. What comes of every claim? O Vanity of Vanities! Alike are clods and earls. For sot, and seer, and swain, For emperors and for churls, For antidote and bane, There is but one refrain: But one for king and thrall, For David and for Saul, For fleet of foot and lame, For pieties and profanities, The picture and the frame:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' Life is a smoke that curls-- Curls in a flickering skein, That winds and whisks and whirls A figment thin and vain, Into the vast Inane. One end for hut and hall! One end for cell and stall! Burned in one common flame Are wisdoms and insanities. For this alone we came:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' Envoy Prince, pride must have a fall. What is the worth of all Your state's supreme urbanities? Bad at the best's the game. Well might the Sage exclaim:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!'

0

1.6k

William Ernest Henley

Double Ballade Of The Nothingness Of Things

The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain. Read on the mighty pall, The **** of funeral That covers praise and blame, The--isms and the--anities, Magnificence and shame:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' The Fates are subtile girls! They give us chaff for grain. And Time, the Thunderer, hurls, Like bolted death, disdain At all that heart and brain Conceive, or great or small, Upon this earthly ball. Would you be knight and dame? Or woo the sweet humanities? Or illustrate a name? O Vanity of Vanities! We sound the sea for pearls, Or drown them in a drain; We flute it with the merles, Or tug and sweat and strain; We grovel, or we reign; We saunter, or we brawl; We answer, or we call; We search the stars for Fame, Or sink her subterranities; The legend's still the same:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' Here at the wine one birls, There some one clanks a chain. The flag that this man furls That man to float is fain. Pleasure gives place to pain: These in the kennel crawl, While others take the wall. She has a glorious aim, He lives for the inanities. What comes of every claim? O Vanity of Vanities! Alike are clods and earls. For sot, and seer, and swain, For emperors and for churls, For antidote and bane, There is but one refrain: But one for king and thrall, For David and for Saul, For fleet of foot and lame, For pieties and profanities, The picture and the frame:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' Life is a smoke that curls-- Curls in a flickering skein, That winds and whisks and whirls A figment thin and vain, Into the vast Inane. One end for hut and hall! One end for cell and stall! Burned in one common flame Are wisdoms and insanities. For this alone we came:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!' Envoy Prince, pride must have a fall. What is the worth of all Your state's supreme urbanities? Bad at the best's the game. Well might the Sage exclaim:-- 'O Vanity of Vanities!'

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(10w x 6) Grass hurls back raindrops as wet soil clings to feet rain no longer pours gray disappears sky turns pale cerulean eyes journey, to where soft colors make a heavenly arch telling of zephyr a bit of sun rains, on hold i wind over...close my eyes unicorn's music is soporific "somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly .................................... ....... why can't i."....... Sally Copyright July 11, 2015 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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Jul 12, 2015

Jul 12, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC

After the rains...

(10w x 6) Grass hurls back raindrops as wet soil clings to feet rain no longer pours gray disappears sky turns pale cerulean eyes journey, to where soft colors make a heavenly arch telling of zephyr a bit of sun rains, on hold i wind over...close my eyes unicorn's music is soporific "somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly .................................... ....... why can't i."....... Sally Copyright July 11, 2015 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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god sieves and strains, heaps and hurls, molds and unmakes, unmakes and molds, blood and clay, fire and ‘nay’ to frailties before sculpting our hearts.

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Sep 10, 2025

Sep 10, 2025 at 4:48 AM UTC

god sieves and strains, heaps and hurls, molds and unmakes, unmakes and molds, blood and clay, fire and ‘nay’ to frailties before sculpting our hearts.

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Underneath the rushing world our situation at a glance has yet to quietly unfurl. I am only a lonely girl who's never had a slow-song dance above the big rushing world. And you, you look like you could twirl me, and trap my heart in a trance, which has yet to slowly unfurl. On these tracks, there is a pearl among the others in a stance, underneath the rushing world. Suddenly the train stops and hurls you toward me. This is my chance. I should take it. But it unfurls, I need to say before this whirl I have not met you. In advance underneath the rushing world our love will not ever unfurl.

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Nov 12, 2015

Nov 12, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC

Underneath the rushing world our situation at a glance has yet to quietly unfurl. I am only a lonely girl who's never had a slow-song dance above the big rushing world. And you, you look like you could twirl me, and trap my heart in a trance, which has yet to slowly unfurl. On these tracks, there is a pearl among the others in a stance, underneath the rushing world. Suddenly the train stops and hurls you toward me. This is my chance. I should take it. But it unfurls, I need to say before this whirl I have not met you. In advance underneath the rushing world our love will not ever unfurl.

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monistical transcendents from complex algorithms in dancing neosouls growing formations of unaware intelligent abstract patterns as truth conceals the ever evolving dimension of another time space feeling lumbering freely among the stars Judging by apparence it falls unnaturally easy for the unconcerned to numb the emotions into whatever green is at hand as an underexposed line overreacts as it hurls itself into a verbal echo ...

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May 3, 2013

May 3, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC

monistical transcendents from complex algorithms in dancing neosouls growing formations of unaware intelligent abstract patterns as truth conceals the ever evolving dimension of another time space feeling lumbering freely among the stars Judging by apparence it falls unnaturally easy for the unconcerned to numb the emotions into whatever green is at hand as an underexposed line overreacts as it hurls itself into a verbal echo ...

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