"iiiii" poems - Hello Poetry

. *•vile plumes reaching to the sky•killing the earth as days go by•cutting corners, we dump our waste•the easiest of solutions exe- cuted in poor taste•there are many signs, how could we miss•when we are the ones who did this• scores of geniuses and inte- llects•can't come to consensus and drive a pact•to save the world for our children• to save what's left for future gene- ra- ti- o n s •* **IIIIII o o o I I OO OO OO I I OOOO OOOO OOOO I I OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

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Nov 28, 2015

Nov 28, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC

ryn

Plumes

. *•vile plumes reaching to the sky•killing the earth as days go by•cutting corners, we dump our waste•the easiest of solutions exe- cuted in poor taste•there are many signs, how could we miss•when we are the ones who did this• scores of geniuses and inte- llects•can't come to consensus and drive a pact•to save the world for our children• to save what's left for future gene- ra- ti- o n s •* **IIIIII o o o I I OO OO OO I I OOOO OOOO OOOO I I OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

31

i'm getting drunk off rain water. it's been hiding in the gutter for hours. along with the leaves and tree flowers. i sing a song as i stumble down the street. "and IIIII-I-IIII-III will always lo-uh-ve youu!" it's true. there's a string attached from me to you. and hung from it are not-so-shiny stars. spring has sprung, love is in the air. i choke as i inhale the pair. hands entwined with their pail white string. what if i were to sprout wings? i doubt i'd stay on earth for long. i've always thought i don't belong anyway. i tucked my heart away in a sock drawer. that's the safest place i could think of. i trace the scar with my fingertips. another star fell down tonight. this town never sees a thing. i add the fallen to our stretched-out string. i had a dream in black in white. where i had caught a beam of light. and i kept it safe all through the night. all through the year. all through my life. and as i died, as all of us do, the beam of light died too. i used to think the beam was you. i scream to the moon. my rain strewn across the ground. i found myself lying in my reflection. i point my thumb in one direction. hoping you will soon come pick me up. i kick a cup left here by a stranger. "danger", the smudged sharpie reads. "love is", written on the other side. i chuckle at the irony-smittened phrase. i graze over my scar once more. i swore to the sun i would visit someday. i'd bring with me my hidden heart. ridden with love the sun would burn up. she'd turn my heart anew. in it will be hope i knew had gone. and happiness i had given up on. i dipped the cup in the rain and took a sip. i held the styrofoam lip to my own. five fingers grip it tight. love is danger, this i've known to be right. i'm getting drunk off rain water. and stumbling off into the night.

0

Mar 28, 2010

Mar 28, 2010 at 3:13 PM UTC

shelby-easley

i'm getting drunk off rain water.

i'm getting drunk off rain water. it's been hiding in the gutter for hours. along with the leaves and tree flowers. i sing a song as i stumble down the street. "and IIIII-I-IIII-III will always lo-uh-ve youu!" it's true. there's a string attached from me to you. and hung from it are not-so-shiny stars. spring has sprung, love is in the air. i choke as i inhale the pair. hands entwined with their pail white string. what if i were to sprout wings? i doubt i'd stay on earth for long. i've always thought i don't belong anyway. i tucked my heart away in a sock drawer. that's the safest place i could think of. i trace the scar with my fingertips. another star fell down tonight. this town never sees a thing. i add the fallen to our stretched-out string. i had a dream in black in white. where i had caught a beam of light. and i kept it safe all through the night. all through the year. all through my life. and as i died, as all of us do, the beam of light died too. i used to think the beam was you. i scream to the moon. my rain strewn across the ground. i found myself lying in my reflection. i point my thumb in one direction. hoping you will soon come pick me up. i kick a cup left here by a stranger. "danger", the smudged sharpie reads. "love is", written on the other side. i chuckle at the irony-smittened phrase. i graze over my scar once more. i swore to the sun i would visit someday. i'd bring with me my hidden heart. ridden with love the sun would burn up. she'd turn my heart anew. in it will be hope i knew had gone. and happiness i had given up on. i dipped the cup in the rain and took a sip. i held the styrofoam lip to my own. five fingers grip it tight. love is danger, this i've known to be right. i'm getting drunk off rain water. and stumbling off into the night.

50

Let me indulge you, and tell you the only story than I can ever tell. Last night, I dreamt of our pub. It was as gold and black as a caviar tin, a short walk away from school, aching with sun and ready with my pint of London Pride. The grubby green booth kissed your cricket whites and you were seventeen forever, seventeen and as blonde as a mothered statue of a prince, bone-idle, as blonde and as young as dreams can make you. “Jesus died, for somebody’s sins…” My hands were sweating around the pint glass and I could feel the promise of a **** in the air, a good **** in some pink carpeted upstairs room in that ****** little pub from ten years ago where they played old music over tin speakers, where my youth dribbled **** into the flowerpots, where you and I had our first shut-eyed kiss in front of all of our friends and they never said a word about it, not one word. “…But not mine.” I fell in love with you in this pub where all I wanted to do was love you, touch you, tell you that you were the most amazingly screwable piece of **** this side of the Milky Way, when just your wayward finger could give me the hardon of my life – and in this dream, darling, you were as real as you ever were, as gold and compact as a star, pink crowned and already wet and I took you between my lips to soak you G L O R IIIII A I dreamt of the whole length of you inside my throat, with my body so young and beautiful, and you coated me in your own saliva covertly, always hiding the things that I most desperately wanted to see - batting my head and my hands away... (Come on - let me see, le us both be suspended in your spit, insects caught in the molten gold, gold -) “Jesus, died, for somebody’s sins… But not mine.” ……….

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Apr 14, 2015

Apr 14, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC

a-mareship

gloria (pt 1)

Let me indulge you, and tell you the only story than I can ever tell. Last night, I dreamt of our pub. It was as gold and black as a caviar tin, a short walk away from school, aching with sun and ready with my pint of London Pride. The grubby green booth kissed your cricket whites and you were seventeen forever, seventeen and as blonde as a mothered statue of a prince, bone-idle, as blonde and as young as dreams can make you. “Jesus died, for somebody’s sins…” My hands were sweating around the pint glass and I could feel the promise of a **** in the air, a good **** in some pink carpeted upstairs room in that ****** little pub from ten years ago where they played old music over tin speakers, where my youth dribbled **** into the flowerpots, where you and I had our first shut-eyed kiss in front of all of our friends and they never said a word about it, not one word. “…But not mine.” I fell in love with you in this pub where all I wanted to do was love you, touch you, tell you that you were the most amazingly screwable piece of **** this side of the Milky Way, when just your wayward finger could give me the hardon of my life – and in this dream, darling, you were as real as you ever were, as gold and compact as a star, pink crowned and already wet and I took you between my lips to soak you G L O R IIIII A I dreamt of the whole length of you inside my throat, with my body so young and beautiful, and you coated me in your own saliva covertly, always hiding the things that I most desperately wanted to see - batting my head and my hands away... (Come on - let me see, le us both be suspended in your spit, insects caught in the molten gold, gold -) “Jesus, died, for somebody’s sins… But not mine.” ……….

20

I like chocolate So creamy and filled your wildest dreams, all in one bite. I like chocolate the chocolate I love sweet and unhealthy, thats right Yet chocolate is curious, and different. The emotions inside are not always machines. The feelings you give and take think about it, aren't these kind of...mystic. They hold memories or futures, thoughts, and dreams. Dreams of futures and thoughts of memories. Sure there is outside taste but, don't you taste it? The feelings, hopes, thoughts and dreams only by a nibble on it's seams? Well if you don't it can't be helped. Savoring taste can't always be developed. However, I still want to let you know chocolate is just as good as cookie dough

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Jul 7, 2013

Jul 7, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC

deanna

Iiiii Liiiiike Chocolate

I like chocolate So creamy and filled your wildest dreams, all in one bite. I like chocolate the chocolate I love sweet and unhealthy, thats right Yet chocolate is curious, and different. The emotions inside are not always machines. The feelings you give and take think about it, aren't these kind of...mystic. They hold memories or futures, thoughts, and dreams. Dreams of futures and thoughts of memories. Sure there is outside taste but, don't you taste it? The feelings, hopes, thoughts and dreams only by a nibble on it's seams? Well if you don't it can't be helped. Savoring taste can't always be developed. However, I still want to let you know chocolate is just as good as cookie dough

26

I'm dying, Don't you understand, Each and every day, I'm dying. I used to think being dead, Was to mean, Your heart beat, Went flat. But, Being dead? Not so much a state of being sometimes... I'd wake up, Every morning, Saying... **** I'm still here? How am IIIII, Still here?" With not much will power for life, Every day mundane, Every hour, pointless. Until it drove me mad, I became so mad, I gave that girl in the mirror the finger And walked The hell Away. She was no good, And saying to myself after I said... "Hey bro, I'm dying each And every day! I don't have time for ******** I don't have the years for hatred, I don't have the months for grudges, I don't have the days for no success, I don't have the hours for wasting, I don't have the minutes for standing still, But what I do have, Is millions Of itty bitty moments, Placed together So perfectly, That I notice... I never saw that before i died. Before the brain waves took a vaction To lets be depressed and unsure, unworthy of life No, I'd never seen how beautiful Life is, When you slow her down, To a slow dance, A graceful pause, A gentle breath, A simple laugh, A single tear, A precious moment. And Time, She is just an odd one. Letting you decide when her dance is done. But willing to offer so much more, If you stay. And There is, Always, Always, Always, More, my friend. I would know, I'm still here, By some magic of this universe I got plopped into 21 years ago. And I've seen enough, Telling me, "ehy, They still want you here, Your family, Your pet, Your friends, They need you here, Its not about you!!! Its about us." Time will whispers gentley Into my ears "its about us, You are dying, You will never be eternal, And life, Well, He's a ******* sometimes, Don't always listen to him, But never Never ever, Take him for granted." She reasons with me. "in the end, You will go, But now, Is not the end. I have much more, much more, To show you" Still, I'm dying, And every moment counts. Every encounter, Every butterfly in your stomach, Every bruise you take, Every battle you fight, Every love you have, Every person you care for, Every memory you hold close, Every blink, Every word, Every whisper, Its all worth it. Let it be, Worth it. You are dying Make it worth something to you.

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Dec 16, 2014

Dec 16, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC

SunnySnow

Im Dying

I'm dying, Don't you understand, Each and every day, I'm dying. I used to think being dead, Was to mean, Your heart beat, Went flat. But, Being dead? Not so much a state of being sometimes... I'd wake up, Every morning, Saying... **** I'm still here? How am IIIII, Still here?" With not much will power for life, Every day mundane, Every hour, pointless. Until it drove me mad, I became so mad, I gave that girl in the mirror the finger And walked The hell Away. She was no good, And saying to myself after I said... "Hey bro, I'm dying each And every day! I don't have time for ******** I don't have the years for hatred, I don't have the months for grudges, I don't have the days for no success, I don't have the hours for wasting, I don't have the minutes for standing still, But what I do have, Is millions Of itty bitty moments, Placed together So perfectly, That I notice... I never saw that before i died. Before the brain waves took a vaction To lets be depressed and unsure, unworthy of life No, I'd never seen how beautiful Life is, When you slow her down, To a slow dance, A graceful pause, A gentle breath, A simple laugh, A single tear, A precious moment. And Time, She is just an odd one. Letting you decide when her dance is done. But willing to offer so much more, If you stay. And There is, Always, Always, Always, More, my friend. I would know, I'm still here, By some magic of this universe I got plopped into 21 years ago. And I've seen enough, Telling me, "ehy, They still want you here, Your family, Your pet, Your friends, They need you here, Its not about you!!! Its about us." Time will whispers gentley Into my ears "its about us, You are dying, You will never be eternal, And life, Well, He's a ******* sometimes, Don't always listen to him, But never Never ever, Take him for granted." She reasons with me. "in the end, You will go, But now, Is not the end. I have much more, much more, To show you" Still, I'm dying, And every moment counts. Every encounter, Every butterfly in your stomach, Every bruise you take, Every battle you fight, Every love you have, Every person you care for, Every memory you hold close, Every blink, Every word, Every whisper, Its all worth it. Let it be, Worth it. You are dying Make it worth something to you.

121

I II III IIII IIIII IIIIII IIIIIII IIIIIIII IIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIII a glass bottom boat in central park the snowflakes all have your smile (their mother of the ice) stirred her drink with a finger and fell asleep in the sun

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Jul 24, 2013

Jul 24, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC

brian-oblivion

listen, the snow is falling (some time in new york city 1972)

I II III IIII IIIII IIIIII IIIIIII IIIIIIII IIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIII a glass bottom boat in central park the snowflakes all have your smile (their mother of the ice) stirred her drink with a finger and fell asleep in the sun

20

I am a deformed pudding cup I am the lid that never opens I am the spoon that bends when you try to get ice cream I am the piece of tape that never sticks I am a thumbtack that never goes into the wall when you try to put me in I just break and fall somewhere on the floor youre afraid youll step on me I am the rock underneath your slip-n-slide I am the grass floating in your pool I am a burnt dry burger with no salt I am a water gun that doesn't shoot as far as you thought Iiiii am everything unfortunate I am the little thing that has to annoy you I am the pebble in your shoe I am a forgotten password I am physics I am a low quality image

0

Mar 8, 2016

Mar 8, 2016 at 5:15 PM UTC

emtem

Untitled

I am a deformed pudding cup I am the lid that never opens I am the spoon that bends when you try to get ice cream I am the piece of tape that never sticks I am a thumbtack that never goes into the wall when you try to put me in I just break and fall somewhere on the floor youre afraid youll step on me I am the rock underneath your slip-n-slide I am the grass floating in your pool I am a burnt dry burger with no salt I am a water gun that doesn't shoot as far as you thought Iiiii am everything unfortunate I am the little thing that has to annoy you I am the pebble in your shoe I am a forgotten password I am physics I am a low quality image

16

i. your ribcage is not a ladder for demons to crawl their way up your body ii. your eyes aren’t black pits in which everybody can see every part of you reflected iii. remember that you are the only person who can look in the mirror and see you staring back, iiii. you cannot creep up on yourself iiiii. and just because blackberries taste sweet doesn’t mean they won’t rot over time iiiiii It’s okay to feel like the roots that anchor you are mangled underground

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Dec 6, 2014

Dec 6, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC

villinarium

Small Reminders

i. your ribcage is not a ladder for demons to crawl their way up your body ii. your eyes aren’t black pits in which everybody can see every part of you reflected iii. remember that you are the only person who can look in the mirror and see you staring back, iiii. you cannot creep up on yourself iiiii. and just because blackberries taste sweet doesn’t mean they won’t rot over time iiiiii It’s okay to feel like the roots that anchor you are mangled underground

23

i have tea bags hanging from a tack they are tangled like our legs and you whispering "i want to hold something of yours" i will create a *** for you you're welcome to carry it and ask for donations because God knows Lord knows Buddha knows that *** will never never never be enough.

0

Jan 14, 2013

Jan 14, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC

kalena-leone

IIIII.

i have tea bags hanging from a tack they are tangled like our legs and you whispering "i want to hold something of yours" i will create a *** for you you're welcome to carry it and ask for donations because God knows Lord knows Buddha knows that *** will never never never be enough.

15

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Jun 23, 2015

Jun 23, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC

sam-stone-grenier

Untitled

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214

Friday oh Friday the 13th that's my day, June oh June how consistently you tend to loom. One time it was power rangers and clay Another, IIIII just went out to play. I remember very few and yet the years stick like glue. I am dissatisfied with the skin and bone I was supplied, yet I bet With all my heart. That I will wake with a smile, even when I'm falling apart

0

Jun 10, 2014

Jun 10, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC

TheCourier

Friday the 13th

Friday oh Friday the 13th that's my day, June oh June how consistently you tend to loom. One time it was power rangers and clay Another, IIIII just went out to play. I remember very few and yet the years stick like glue. I am dissatisfied with the skin and bone I was supplied, yet I bet With all my heart. That I will wake with a smile, even when I'm falling apart

10

i. I fell into this hell at the age of twelve on a warm Sunday in Texas. While the rest of my family left to church, I was to remain at home with my 16 year old cousin. They thought her harmless because of her physical ailments. I soon found out anyone could be a Roman. She held both my skinny arms far apart as though she was preparing to nail me to a cross; Later on that night she taught me how to dance like a demon; I've never been burned by an effervescent fire since. ii. This hell does not define me, but has marked me forever as an outsider to pure happiness. I've been set ablaze for life. My relationships have sunk into the depths of the inferno; their remains are stories now. The kind you tell at campfires to ***** all the naive children. iii. It's a long climb when you start at the bottom. Where the scarlet teeth gnaw at your insides, where the claws tear away at your badly drawn design. iiii. Mother, you have forsaken me. A fool who only wanted proper nurturing. Goddess of Neglect, Your imprint has stained everyone who wants to love me. iiiii. I can live with these tattered wings. Bruised skull. Punctured Lungs. Aching muscles. Taut body. I can fly if only for a little while. Be free. Be free. Be Free. Love myself. Love others just as well.

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Apr 16, 2016

Apr 16, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC

afinitecreature

The Art of War and Peace

i. I fell into this hell at the age of twelve on a warm Sunday in Texas. While the rest of my family left to church, I was to remain at home with my 16 year old cousin. They thought her harmless because of her physical ailments. I soon found out anyone could be a Roman. She held both my skinny arms far apart as though she was preparing to nail me to a cross; Later on that night she taught me how to dance like a demon; I've never been burned by an effervescent fire since. ii. This hell does not define me, but has marked me forever as an outsider to pure happiness. I've been set ablaze for life. My relationships have sunk into the depths of the inferno; their remains are stories now. The kind you tell at campfires to ***** all the naive children. iii. It's a long climb when you start at the bottom. Where the scarlet teeth gnaw at your insides, where the claws tear away at your badly drawn design. iiii. Mother, you have forsaken me. A fool who only wanted proper nurturing. Goddess of Neglect, Your imprint has stained everyone who wants to love me. iiiii. I can live with these tattered wings. Bruised skull. Punctured Lungs. Aching muscles. Taut body. I can fly if only for a little while. Be free. Be free. Be Free. Love myself. Love others just as well.

46