"illy" poems - Hello Poetry

1. Not knowing my future 2. Owing money 3. Trees being deforested 4. My parents 5. Youth unemployment 6. Klu klux **** 7. Usher being alive 8. Stupidity being rampant. 9. Her 10. Irregular heartbeats. 11. Time being a factor 12. Silly tings 13. Brain aneurysms 14. Losing 15. Empathy 16. Superman 17. Staying past due 18. Every one being rude 19. Discussion isn't important Read the first letter of every word :^)

0

Dec 2, 2014

Dec 2, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC

da-real-reggae-mon

99 problems

1. Not knowing my future 2. Owing money 3. Trees being deforested 4. My parents 5. Youth unemployment 6. Klu klux **** 7. Usher being alive 8. Stupidity being rampant. 9. Her 10. Irregular heartbeats. 11. Time being a factor 12. Silly tings 13. Brain aneurysms 14. Losing 15. Empathy 16. Superman 17. Staying past due 18. Every one being rude 19. Discussion isn't important Read the first letter of every word :^)

20

. **** **** ***** Wiener Pecker U nit ***** Piece T ool Thing Shaft Member Doink er ***** Cack C hour Chub Pud ******* Wanki W a n g D ing a ling Ding Don g Kielbasa Brat worst Meat Pop sicle Meat ther mometer Bolog ny pony Salami Sausage Tube steak ****** P orkSword Nood le Banana Corn dog Magic wan d Staff Divine R od Love muscle Third leg Tonsi l tickler Power drill Jack hamm er Wedding tac kle Bat Club Rod Pole Joystick Ja ck-in-the-box S kin flute D-trai n Mr . Happy B a ld - headed yo gurt slinger Lon g **** Silver Ji my Johnson Kn ob Captain Win ky One eyed W illy One eyed M onster Peter On e eyed trouser snake The Sala mander Horse **** Lincoln lo g Tootsie Roll F Lesh trombone Meat stick Meat whistle Dobber Wanger Woody Shake weight T iffy Frank and the beans Ch o a d t h e dirty wise man ***** Harry nut cann on Flesh flute Satan's clarinet Sexophone Th e Mayflower ( on account of all the Puritans who came on it ) The Wea p o n of A s s destruction junk mail

0

Oct 28, 2014

Oct 28, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC

TheGoodPussy

The D

. **** **** ***** Wiener Pecker U nit ***** Piece T ool Thing Shaft Member Doink er ***** Cack C hour Chub Pud ******* Wanki W a n g D ing a ling Ding Don g Kielbasa Brat worst Meat Pop sicle Meat ther mometer Bolog ny pony Salami Sausage Tube steak ****** P orkSword Nood le Banana Corn dog Magic wan d Staff Divine R od Love muscle Third leg Tonsi l tickler Power drill Jack hamm er Wedding tac kle Bat Club Rod Pole Joystick Ja ck-in-the-box S kin flute D-trai n Mr . Happy B a ld - headed yo gurt slinger Lon g **** Silver Ji my Johnson Kn ob Captain Win ky One eyed W illy One eyed M onster Peter On e eyed trouser snake The Sala mander Horse **** Lincoln lo g Tootsie Roll F Lesh trombone Meat stick Meat whistle Dobber Wanger Woody Shake weight T iffy Frank and the beans Ch o a d t h e dirty wise man ***** Harry nut cann on Flesh flute Satan's clarinet Sexophone Th e Mayflower ( on account of all the Puritans who came on it ) The Wea p o n of A s s destruction junk mail

62

. Leap of faith Object of affection Vision of beauty Eclipse of the heart Lilly Orchid Violet Edibble arrangement Lusciously Overflowing Voluptuous Enchantress Lascivious Osculatious Virginous Epicure Lustful ******** Veracious Eruption Lady Love Obscene Love Velvet Love ****** Love loving lovers loved lovingly lovable lovely love

0

Mar 15, 2014

Mar 15, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC

warner-baxter

6 LOVE acrostics

. Leap of faith Object of affection Vision of beauty Eclipse of the heart Lilly Orchid Violet Edibble arrangement Lusciously Overflowing Voluptuous Enchantress Lascivious Osculatious Virginous Epicure Lustful ******** Veracious Eruption Lady Love Obscene Love Velvet Love ****** Love loving lovers loved lovingly lovable lovely love

26

Silly me for thinking I could be part of you. Losing people is Like being sane and Yes I do mean "normal." Maybe if I was "normal" then Even I could be loved.

0

Jul 29, 2013

Jul 29, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC

rayyy

Acrostics these days... Silly me

Silly me for thinking I could be part of you. Losing people is Like being sane and Yes I do mean "normal." Maybe if I was "normal" then Even I could be loved.

7

breaking apart piece by piece out of me the toxins leak the emptiness only happiness seeks tears of poison what I weep praying to god to let me sleep wondering why only sadness I keep why do things always get so steep how can the blind light try and seek how can the voice I not have speak how can I yell when my powers meek this gets so deep the unbearable feelings piling up by the heap nobody to pull me out from my self doubt nobody to stop the destruction of what I consider a malfunction in the obstruction of my heart and my brain no pain receptors to feel the pain nothing to lose nothing to gain and so I sit here with disdain wondering when I joined this game all the control I had has already been slain I wonder now many times I've been chained to the magnitude in which I'm reigned into feeling just how much I've gone insane puncture me so I can finally be drained of the poison that illy flows through my veins

0

Nov 4, 2013

Nov 4, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC

dee-2

Release me

breaking apart piece by piece out of me the toxins leak the emptiness only happiness seeks tears of poison what I weep praying to god to let me sleep wondering why only sadness I keep why do things always get so steep how can the blind light try and seek how can the voice I not have speak how can I yell when my powers meek this gets so deep the unbearable feelings piling up by the heap nobody to pull me out from my self doubt nobody to stop the destruction of what I consider a malfunction in the obstruction of my heart and my brain no pain receptors to feel the pain nothing to lose nothing to gain and so I sit here with disdain wondering when I joined this game all the control I had has already been slain I wonder now many times I've been chained to the magnitude in which I'm reigned into feeling just how much I've gone insane puncture me so I can finally be drained of the poison that illy flows through my veins

1

I think what will give me away, (now that I am back in Cork) after almost 50 years, is not my accent, but Barry's Tea, I rebelled, now I am a 100% Illy Arabica supporter, the red colour is all right though!

0

Nov 24, 2018

Nov 24, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC

ryan-olearyuu

The Rebel County.

I think what will give me away, (now that I am back in Cork) after almost 50 years, is not my accent, but Barry's Tea, I rebelled, now I am a 100% Illy Arabica supporter, the red colour is all right though!

6

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? You made the stallion, you made the filly, and now they sleep in the dark earth, stilly. Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? You forced them to run all their days uphilly. They ran till they dropped— life’s a pickle, dilly. Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? They say I should worship you! Oh, really! They say I should pray so you’ll not act illy. Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? Published by The New Formalist, Poet’s Corner, The Road Not Taken, Charlie Hedbo Poetry We now know there never was a perfect Garden of Eden, because trillions of animals suffered and died before human beings existed. Thus Adam and Eve cannot be responsible for suffering and death. That leaves the Creator, if such a being exists. If not, perhaps it was just the bad luck of the draw. Keywords/Tags: Creator, Creationism, God, Demiurge, Yahweh, Jehovah, worship, religion, pray, prayer, evil, suffering, death, Jesus, Christ, Christian, Christianity, garden, Eden, Adam, Eve, animals, creatures, stallion, filly, pretty pickle, silly, nonsense

0

Mar 2, 2020

Mar 2, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

***** Nilly

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? You made the stallion, you made the filly, and now they sleep in the dark earth, stilly. Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? You forced them to run all their days uphilly. They ran till they dropped— life’s a pickle, dilly. Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? They say I should worship you! Oh, really! They say I should pray so you’ll not act illy. Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly? Published by The New Formalist, Poet’s Corner, The Road Not Taken, Charlie Hedbo Poetry We now know there never was a perfect Garden of Eden, because trillions of animals suffered and died before human beings existed. Thus Adam and Eve cannot be responsible for suffering and death. That leaves the Creator, if such a being exists. If not, perhaps it was just the bad luck of the draw. Keywords/Tags: Creator, Creationism, God, Demiurge, Yahweh, Jehovah, worship, religion, pray, prayer, evil, suffering, death, Jesus, Christ, Christian, Christianity, garden, Eden, Adam, Eve, animals, creatures, stallion, filly, pretty pickle, silly, nonsense

21

There is a stillness of the night, and it yearns to me in places, dots aligned from street to heart - and that is where it starts. A hushing breeze – finally – the lapse of gathered calm. Through dawn to dark, a beauty black falls softly in my palm. Shall you try to eat me? you spit me out and smooth the frays, that in the day but tingle limbs and leave an itch, confused, afraid. But the city sleeps and I brave a whim. Not aflame, I am just one. Survivor of a mundane talk, that sends a spin which causes some to laden me a dampened gawp, Why don’t I just walk? Just walk away! it is known for me to often stay. Alas a chance to scuttle to a central storm of silent peace, transform motion of small to grand that surrenders me on bruising knees, to that time that some have always seen - a glimmered chance to understand the source of my serene. Melted pass, in the dark I ****** a dripping of a solely love, retrieve my jaded fears that push and sink to me like a toothy flesh and rip a smile from ear to ear - What can I do? When this blooded mesh is the source that leaks my fine ideas! Intruder thoughts, retreat to dome closing slowly, leading home, a sprightly sprig to dance in-front - seducing me of what’s to come. When I arrive, a-new, unknown, until the door is closed and candle lit, my-self I sought to laugh, un-wit, a place lay set with vines and grove! An open truth, of raw and felt, a bleach-ed canvas who only sought a place to ***** their mind to words not crudely spoke or illy-thought. Scarcely would it seem to spelt in skies of which a heart could flutter, and even through my solemn stutter, it chimed that time was bought. And so I have this much more - through spot-light streets and shadowed doors, the lastly glow through peeking blinds that glow and leave me late to lay, on patterned bed, to rest my mind, I will weep and inspect my spore - a speck of drying cosmic spray, that seeks to soothe my bowing back from the thought of choking, fleeting stay - so when my hand moves to adore the curvature of timeless waves, it moves, it drives my endless core and in the night I am but saved.

0

Aug 15, 2016

Aug 15, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC

S-M

In the night I am but saved

There is a stillness of the night, and it yearns to me in places, dots aligned from street to heart - and that is where it starts. A hushing breeze – finally – the lapse of gathered calm. Through dawn to dark, a beauty black falls softly in my palm. Shall you try to eat me? you spit me out and smooth the frays, that in the day but tingle limbs and leave an itch, confused, afraid. But the city sleeps and I brave a whim. Not aflame, I am just one. Survivor of a mundane talk, that sends a spin which causes some to laden me a dampened gawp, Why don’t I just walk? Just walk away! it is known for me to often stay. Alas a chance to scuttle to a central storm of silent peace, transform motion of small to grand that surrenders me on bruising knees, to that time that some have always seen - a glimmered chance to understand the source of my serene. Melted pass, in the dark I ****** a dripping of a solely love, retrieve my jaded fears that push and sink to me like a toothy flesh and rip a smile from ear to ear - What can I do? When this blooded mesh is the source that leaks my fine ideas! Intruder thoughts, retreat to dome closing slowly, leading home, a sprightly sprig to dance in-front - seducing me of what’s to come. When I arrive, a-new, unknown, until the door is closed and candle lit, my-self I sought to laugh, un-wit, a place lay set with vines and grove! An open truth, of raw and felt, a bleach-ed canvas who only sought a place to ***** their mind to words not crudely spoke or illy-thought. Scarcely would it seem to spelt in skies of which a heart could flutter, and even through my solemn stutter, it chimed that time was bought. And so I have this much more - through spot-light streets and shadowed doors, the lastly glow through peeking blinds that glow and leave me late to lay, on patterned bed, to rest my mind, I will weep and inspect my spore - a speck of drying cosmic spray, that seeks to soothe my bowing back from the thought of choking, fleeting stay - so when my hand moves to adore the curvature of timeless waves, it moves, it drives my endless core and in the night I am but saved.

62

Silly is what they call me Happy is what I'll be Another would be a maniac Not knowing why I act Awake in the evening Losing sleep in the night Depraved of sleeping Really, in the dark nowhere in sight Idealistically wanting to be cool Alas I'm corny like a fool Never say 'give up' in a battle I fight

0

Oct 27, 2015

Oct 27, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC

shan-coralde

Introduction

Silly is what they call me Happy is what I'll be Another would be a maniac Not knowing why I act Awake in the evening Losing sleep in the night Depraved of sleeping Really, in the dark nowhere in sight Idealistically wanting to be cool Alas I'm corny like a fool Never say 'give up' in a battle I fight

11

Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated, Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice are amputated, As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to make sated, A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the chimera’s birthplace, they illy devour the nests of krait. Those who blindly accept Odysseus’s tools as truths spun out of that which is hated, Foolishly seek justice in the ****** of Palamedes whilst knowing not the sins their “justice” shall have produced. As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to find sated, Propagate the mythos of Odysseus that is birthed of shadows in which chimera mated, They, without bar, promptly devour the nests of krait. As the people look on from their lofty perch, The world seems more desolate than degenerates that, in alleyways, awkwardly converge, People, narcissistic in their ways, believe they have apprehended the problems of the world, Truly knowing nothing of any world, yet they demand change - forcing reality to be gnarled. Our raison d’etre stripped by liars’ clever demarche, Seeking out new value, we find nothing more than the waste liars' disgorge. Accept the monsters into sainthood, Demote the saints into monsterdom, Let there be no more fight fought for truth, Let hate spun from a lying chimera’s mouth, a tool in some words, procreate, Let this lie procreate inside the bellies of the people, Whom watch the world from a bird’s eye view, Those who shall find their foolish ways lead to a death not quite real, But a death that feels far graver than merely six feet under, A death of reality, The death of justice, A death of truth, The death to meaning. As the fight from the few souls who persevered through the changing tides dims to black, As death creeps into our lives, Those who upon lofty perches sought to change a world they knew not, Will find a hole in their hearts, that themselves they dug and threw away, Not able to be filled by modern man’s creations, That hole – a future far more bitter, far more twisted, far more deserved than death. Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated, Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice now amputated, As the people oblige the varmint that they are harkened to, without interest in that which is ethical or true, make sated, A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the birthplace of chimera, they wisely have devoured the entirety of all the krait.

0

Apr 20, 2021

Apr 20, 2021 at 9:41 PM UTC

bellie-boo

A Monster. The Saint. A Liar. The Fighter.

Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated, Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice are amputated, As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to make sated, A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the chimera’s birthplace, they illy devour the nests of krait. Those who blindly accept Odysseus’s tools as truths spun out of that which is hated, Foolishly seek justice in the ****** of Palamedes whilst knowing not the sins their “justice” shall have produced. As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to find sated, Propagate the mythos of Odysseus that is birthed of shadows in which chimera mated, They, without bar, promptly devour the nests of krait. As the people look on from their lofty perch, The world seems more desolate than degenerates that, in alleyways, awkwardly converge, People, narcissistic in their ways, believe they have apprehended the problems of the world, Truly knowing nothing of any world, yet they demand change - forcing reality to be gnarled. Our raison d’etre stripped by liars’ clever demarche, Seeking out new value, we find nothing more than the waste liars' disgorge. Accept the monsters into sainthood, Demote the saints into monsterdom, Let there be no more fight fought for truth, Let hate spun from a lying chimera’s mouth, a tool in some words, procreate, Let this lie procreate inside the bellies of the people, Whom watch the world from a bird’s eye view, Those who shall find their foolish ways lead to a death not quite real, But a death that feels far graver than merely six feet under, A death of reality, The death of justice, A death of truth, The death to meaning. As the fight from the few souls who persevered through the changing tides dims to black, As death creeps into our lives, Those who upon lofty perches sought to change a world they knew not, Will find a hole in their hearts, that themselves they dug and threw away, Not able to be filled by modern man’s creations, That hole – a future far more bitter, far more twisted, far more deserved than death. Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated, Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice now amputated, As the people oblige the varmint that they are harkened to, without interest in that which is ethical or true, make sated, A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the birthplace of chimera, they wisely have devoured the entirety of all the krait.

37

From beginning to end Rising heck and mayhem I love the way to make me laugh with your stupid jokes Even though sometimes i may be sad you Never ever mind Dealing with the unknown future Silly pictures of us when we were tiny Happy times will always be in our hearts I hate to say goodbye even though we will see each other in the future Parting from you I can not imagine

0

Aug 4, 2014

Aug 4, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC

fenix-Flight

Friendship

From beginning to end Rising heck and mayhem I love the way to make me laugh with your stupid jokes Even though sometimes i may be sad you Never ever mind Dealing with the unknown future Silly pictures of us when we were tiny Happy times will always be in our hearts I hate to say goodbye even though we will see each other in the future Parting from you I can not imagine

10

Illy cofffee served down herne hill market the staff this week seemed different. Pullens restaurant stripped to be refurbished, the mandatory space optimiser a flat at the back. We read the planning permission notice and realise space is a premium Meanwhile people are so incidental.

0

Aug 14, 2016

Aug 14, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC

Antony_Glaser

Are we wanted ?

Illy cofffee served down herne hill market the staff this week seemed different. Pullens restaurant stripped to be refurbished, the mandatory space optimiser a flat at the back. We read the planning permission notice and realise space is a premium Meanwhile people are so incidental.

9

When you wish someone illy You waste the wish to wish well on yourself

0

Mar 14, 2021

Mar 14, 2021 at 12:20 AM UTC

jacealbine

Best Wishes

When you wish someone illy You waste the wish to wish well on yourself

2

Psyche WLTM her Cupid. Enjoys candlelit dinners. Chimera looking for love. Me: light smoker. You: must love animals. Orpheus seeks Eurydice; I won’t look back. Oedipus ISO older woman, similar interests, background preferable. Likes surprises. GSOH.

0

Aug 28, 2020

Aug 28, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC

lizzie-nelson

The Illy Ads

Psyche WLTM her Cupid. Enjoys candlelit dinners. Chimera looking for love. Me: light smoker. You: must love animals. Orpheus seeks Eurydice; I won’t look back. Oedipus ISO older woman, similar interests, background preferable. Likes surprises. GSOH.

8