"jiggled" poems
you asked me to come:it was raining a little,
and the spring;a clumsy brightness of air
wonderfully stumbled above the square,
little amorous-tadpole people wiggled
battered by stuttering pearl,
leaves jiggled
to the jigging fragrance of newness
—and then. My crazy fingers liked your dress
….your kiss,your kiss was a distinct brittle
flower,and the flesh crisp set
my love-tooth on edge. So until light
each having each we promised to forget—
wherefore is there nothing left to guess:
the cheap intelligent thighs,the electric trite
thighs;the hair stupidly priceless.
19.4k
*On a bright and delightful Easter morning
A furry white rabbit, wiggled her pink adorable nose
Peeking through lush bushes
In a lovely and distinctive pose
And jiggled her cottony soft scut
Aiming into a vegetation
On this sunny day
With so much motivation
Quietly hopping into a blissful garden
Placing decorative filled eggs in pastels
With little time to rest
As she quickly inhales
Adding vibrant colours, to an emerald spiky blanket
And into a rainbow of unfolding tulips
Enlightening her way, like a dazzling carnival
For little peeps enjoyment, upon soft winds movement
Beginning in the latter daylight hours, as tots of all ages
Eagerly carried empty interwoven baskets, on their quest
Pacing through, as in peekaboo
And observing who competes the best*
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
it's night now
and events have stopped.
Stillness evades the froth of evening
calm leather moves none under the fabric.
This home -- older than our world -- flushed
with wisdom -- flushed with glee -- flushed
with the violent storm of transience and
correction -- eyesight jiggled and adjusted
for new intentions -- meaning frisked for
rocks on a Boeing --
it's night now
and events have stopped.
you have stopped.
I have stopped.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
In the world of lines and curves,
I was questioned at the doorstep,
"Are you a line or a curve?",
I decided I was a curve, and they let me in in the group of curves.
Somebody asked, "Why is your curve not curvier? You must go to the lines instead."
I said, "Fair enough", and moved over to the group of lines.
Somebody said again, "You are too crooked to be a line. Go away!"
Disappointed, I realized I had nowhere to go.
There was no group for me. I was a curvy, crooked line.
I was a ******
Then,
Along came a curve, and a line,
They were curious of what it would mean to push their boundaries.
So I asked them to hold hands.
And suddenly I realized I was not alone.
I held their hands too, and we were transformed,
We wriggled and jiggled, and broke our molds,
And formed a perfect circle.
From our imperfections.
Now I belonged somewhere.
And I am not a ****** anymore.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
All I saw was an *** - twitching;
as it sashayed through the doorway,
pert n tight n denim clad,
think the legs were rather fine too,
not too sure though,
the *** kinda jiggled in an intoxicating
hypnotic rhythmic fashion,
sorta *** didi *** didi *** *** ***
it was muscular, without being overly developed,
I had a really deep desire to bite it;
chew on it a liddle !
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
Adios England's Venus flytrap
May you ever overflow inside our rectums
You were the ornament that inserted itself
Where spunks were pelted to pieces
You ********** in the open air to our promontory
And you squirted to those inside ********
Now you reciprocate to Abraham's *****
And the black holes crack spew out your barber's pole
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never drooping with knobs on the cherry lips
When the ooze congeal within
And your smells will always regurgitate here
Along England's juiciest blast—offs
Your cigarette lighter's exploded spew out long before
Your whiff ever go the whole hog
Voluptuousness we've jiggled
These frenzied wombs of time needing your clenched fist
This lava lamp we'll always get pregnant
For our breed's fair—haired brats
And even though we have a finger in
The clean breast seduces us to moistness
All our foghorns cannot ****
The ecstasy you stimulated us throughout the age groups
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
Peace! God’s Peace upon you all! The Bishop blessed
The dyed-young congregation: dyed fathers ‘n mothers,
Grandpas ‘n grannies, great-grandpas and great-grannies.
The demons of decadence--Hair dye, ****** and Spirits –
Chuckled and giggled, crouching well under the pulpit.
Dyed gurus ‘n financiers, dyed lawyers, doctors n’ nurses,
****** entrepreneurs and ****** entertainers, dyed judges
Dyed ‘n spirited evangelists, priests and vergers on ******
Peace be upon thee all! Blessed the Bishop from the pulpit.
Now, the demons in the hiding iterated and reiterated it.
A Sunday spirited chat—all smiles! -- in the church portico:
The Viagra-dyed banker in later life smiled a dyed smile
At the elderly dyed mother of three; and she said: they say,
In spite of my age, you know, I look so young and pretty!
And the thick flanks under her chin jiggled in approbation.
The ****** great-grandpa said to the dyed Justice of spirits:
Milord, they say: “The stuff brings cancer;” Fools! Idiots!
“The gloves—the condom-like device—that’s our safety!”
“Milord! This trinity wizard, they bring a million crores
To the exchequer of this famished democracy, milord!”
“Milord! The nature lovers say, we wash billions of bottles
Of these magic stuffs into their rivers and the seas, milord!”
“They say we all-- dyed ****** men-- are sissies and doofuses!”
“Milord! Our tubby women dye young, lest they’d be labelled
Mammy, Granny, Grandma, Old Granny, the decrepit ‘n that!
Now, the dyed media reported: father mated with his daughter,
Mother with a teenager, grandpa with an infant; and Ministers,
MLAs, MPs—all spirits-Viagra-dyed-- are in a ******* spree!
Now the Dark Trinity cried “Wow! In this world of ******
The Kingdom, the Power and the Glory--all are ours! Amen!
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
There once was a world
that stood on it's head
and wriggled and jiggled
and shook out the dead
and shook off the living
and all of their stuff
'til nothing was left
in it's pockets but fluff,
'til nothing was left
but a world upsidedown
that shakes in the wind
as it's spinning around
like a ragged old lady
with thin and threadbare
clothing she's no
longer willing to share..
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
A couple wuz beading up
for a chi chi day
She drunkenly laughed
**** stained her dress
A olive skin woman
in golden glitter pasties
Offered neon *** shots
near 10 in the morning
A chubby girl dressed
in a black fishnet body suit
selling face paintings
while her supple *******
Jiggled in your face
A black man occupied
A most different plain
Sat behind two chess boards
wasn't gettin paid
Two SAP cars parked
At Royal Sonesta curb
idling to taxi exec sappers
back to the friendly skies
****** whippin glitter girl
Shakin her money maker
Lookin hard at her wares
What the hell she sellin?
Across the street
miked up bible thumper
Doin his groove thing
Raged against the ***** show
Ca ching ca ching ca ching
I ducked a bity bee
Flying at my face
I'm walkin Bourbon
Full of mighty grace
Hard Rock Guys
selling cannabis lollis
crowded corners bumpin
Ain't no trollies
boom box blastin
back beat samples
Who Dat Jazz?
muskrat rambles
Three card monte
Obstructive beggers
Kids banging on
5 gallon drums
Gimme a dime mister
Louie Armstrong Park
Congo Square
Where it at?
Gotta get there
***** Glitter still barking
Mardi ****** Gras tees
Snapchat Me Your *****
Ducked another bee
Kid put his two pails
In mid of the rue
Gotta pay the toll
Whatcha gunna do?
Music:
Mardi Gras Music
From NOLA Notes
2/18/17
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
Once upon a thyme
In an herbed house
Their lived a witch
Whose ripe rampion
Was so overpowering
That the neighbors
Left bottles of febreeze
On her doorstep.
The witch didn’t care
- But
In the flat-ironed town
Of Lunch time lipo
Where you were defined
By your eating disorder
She looked like
An Omish escapee
*With hips that wriggled
And ******* that jiggled*
So her cell phone number
Wasn’t in anyone’s top five
-Except
For one confused neighbor
Who never made it to college
And got to experiment
Like a true Gemini.
Now imagine the witch’s surprise
When this neighbor confides
That she would love to eat
Her ripe rampion.
- Naturally
The witch agreed.
It was nice to have something
That somebody else wanted
Though it was exhausting
For the neighbor
Who munched day and night.
And if one surprise
Wasn’t enough
The witch discovered that her
Neighbor was pregnant.
Now the witch had many powers
But that wasn’t one of them.
It appeared that her neighbor
Found her husbands
Carrot patch to
Quite esculent also.
And the witch
Being a picky Virgo
With a jealous Scorpion moon
Thought that her neighbor
Should not
Have spun around the vegetable
Color wheel quite so fast
And so in a fit of temper
She stole her baby
And locked her away
In an ivory tower.
Initially everything worked out
Until the oil crisis
And then the witch couldn’t
Visit Rapunzel quite as often
As she would have liked
Not with gasoline
Being so expensive
And so Rapunzel became bored
And started chatting to
Prince charming
On her face-book wall.
The witch took all the hopeful Trojans
That the prince had left
On previous visits
And tied them together
To form a rubbery step ladder
And when she heard him shout
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel…let down your hair!"
She threw this at him…angling it
With just a little thread of hate.
Prince charming grew all shivery
And put on his worst
Austin powers "Oh behave" accent
*Thinking of the delights
That awaited him*
However, his shivery-ness
Soon became a full body tremor
When the witch met him
On the top rung
And he knew quick enough
This wasn’t a
Ménage à trois.
The prince spent many months
In traction
Recuperating from his fall.
Rapunzel was sent off
To boarding school.
And as for the witch…
She dropped twenty pounds
And got her own reality show
Housewives of Salem county.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
I ate too much for breakfast today
And lunch was spent wondering if I should slip away
Wondering if I should go back for seconds
**** it, why not?
My feet jiggled nervously under the table
Trying to think of an excuse to leave
Trying to figure out how much the barbeque chicken pizza would hurt on the way back up
Trying to figure out how much I’d regret it
Trying to figure out if my body was okay
My self esteem balloons up and down
Somedays I look in the mirror and like what I see,
Think I look cute and quirky in my glasses and skirt,
Think my body is almost okay
And then like black crossing over to white, like a light switch flipped on
No inbetween
All of the sudden I am ugly
My body takes up too much space
Loving myself, loving this body seem like an impossible feat
The little critic in my head is back
And he wants to move back in,
I’m not cured
Recovery is not about loving your body
Recovery is accepting it
I’m still working on that
The calculator in my head wakes up,
Regenerates every time I’m around food
My hands still hover over the diet soda before forcing myself to pick something that scares me more
I still have to bargain in my brain
Eat a salad so I can eat ice cream and cookies
Skip lunch so I can have a big dinner
Strip naked in front of a full mirror,
Watch my body standing up, bending over, sitting
Grabbing, pinching, prodding, poking
Surveying this piece of meat
This thing
This body
That I know I need to be kind to
I weighed myself for the first time in almost a year
My toe lingered over the cold surface of a scale
Like a child about to dip his feet into water
I knew standing on that scale could drag me under
And I did it anyway
Loving myself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done
When self hatred has been tamped into my soul
When my eating disorder was the only thing I good at
This secret lover, the most attentive one you could have
Took my hand and showed me how an empty stomach could feel like love
My eating disorder was my best friend,
The abusive relationship I kept going back to,
The most interesting thing about me,
The thing that was killing me
Having an eating disorder is easy;
Allowing yourself to slip into a disease out of your control
Having someone else make all your decisions
Your life reduces itself to the numbers on the scale
The slipping numbers on the scale assure me that everything is alright
But I can’t live like that
Having an eating disorder is easy;
Recovery is hard
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
caught a young lady staring at me
one morning; with a look that said
I want you, but, I was with my wife;
she was beautiful and I thought to
myself, if, I wasn't married I lick her lips
then...
the next day went to the supermarket,
and there we caught each others eye; I
couldn't look away, she winked with a ****
smirk, under my breath I had to repeat
I love my wife
but...
that didn't stop me from wanting to flirt;
every time she moved her buttocks jiggled,
inwardly I cupped her jiggle and she giggled
moving closer; her scent hypnotic to say the least,
calling me to touch her taut *******
which...
sent a ripple up my spine and my mind whined,
but, the vision of my wife popped in my head as
I saw myself sliding one finger at a time across
her luscious behind; wanting to wine and dine,
her movements were about to blow my mind;
again inwardly drooling...
I cut a corner in the produce aisle to settle my
ache, I felt lust showing all over my face
I followed her down each aisle acting like I was
looking for something and bumped into
her on purpose, just to get another whiff of her
scent, for a man I blushed flustered; stumbling
over my words saying excuse me
in the meantime...
I wanted to just taste her full lips; run my hands
through her long curly locks, she turned towards
me saying it was ok
but...
my wife popped in my mind again, I blinked twice;
fore, she had no clue of what I wanted to do to her,
mentally and physically, if, I didn't have a wife; she'd
never knew to this day I still salivate whenever I see
her, she was definitely a sight to behold but, she
wouldn't give me the time of day, especially, after
seeing me with my wife
anyway, a man can daydream
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
"let's be still"
Blared through comforting headphones
"No, no, let's dance, let's dance"
The little tendrils jiggled in anticipation
"let us join that glorious dance"
But no, 'tis not the time
Though the energy rises
And yearning, yearning, yearning
My heart does cry
- too soon! Too soon!!!
Jumping into a dance
With one foot
Does not bide well for any dancing partner
The little tendrils sighed
- but may continue to grow
Time over time over time
The blood will settle in this wound
Coagulate
Cover over
And soon
- time over time over time
Fall off to reveal shiny new
And stronger, much stronger
And the dance will be all the sweeter
Devouring
Let's be still
Let's be still
Oh still my beating, acheing, yearning heart!
**** it!
Won't you still!
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.
My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.
A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.
College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.
College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.
Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.
I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.
Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 7:13 AM UTC
I am distracted by
my love for you girl from
California
Who thrived on the needle..
the drip drip of bliss supreme I
see your passion for
all things living
a spirit was never known to
be more free
your ever-so-dirty blonde
hair
soft against my touch the
way your cheeks
jiggled
as we played
the constant journeys
to
and
fro
you would always go...
but you always came back
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
I. Sincerely
To the girl that decided
my time
wasn't worth hers.
II. Declarations
I love you.
I miss you.
I care about you.
III. Present
All I wanted was your
presence,
but you consistently
faded.
IV. Attachment
You wanted me unattached,
but being unattached
I walk away.
V. Conditionally Unconditional
My conditions are
presence
loyalty.
Sorry I lied about unconditional.
VI. Someone
You've got time for someone.
Not me,
but for someone.
VII. Simply Enough
I cannot give my time
for those who do not.
VIII. Giving
You can't ever
get
what you're not willing
to give.
IX. Complete
I love wholly.
I don't switch.
It's all
or nothing.
X. Home
I tasted home upon your lips
where you tasted distance.
XI. Lost
I lost a home.
Another place
I called my own.
XII. Closed Doors
I knocked.
I jiggled the ****
No one ever answered.
XIII. Small Chapters
I was a page to you.
You were a chapter.
XIV. Discarded
A book forgotten upon a floor.
Pages torn, Chapter 1.
XV. Poetry
I turned you into poetry.
That's what you wanted,
right?
XVI. Past
I will write about you
long after you've been gone.
XVII. Self-Worth
I may have lost you,
but you lost me too.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
TABLE DANCING
The family were sat at the table.
Dinner was served.
They picked up their knives,
they were coated with honey.
Picked up their peas,
Flicked them over the trees.
It was alfresco,
And they sat in the sun.
Naturally having bundles of fun.
The wasps invaded the honey clad knives,
Drove the men crazy,
as well as their wives.
Piles of sarnies, gracing the table,
With lettuce, tomatoes, and thin sliced cucumber.
Complete with slices of fresh cream cake.
Thought they'd try dancing,
"Bring on Swan Lake".
They all wriggled and jiggled upon the green grass,
the ballet got boring,
so they changed the beat,
now they're doing the rumba instead.
It wasn't the dance they hoped it would be.
So it turned into romance under the tree.
They sent the youngsters off to the shop,
so the time was theirs to bunny hop.
(c)Livvi
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Fiddling with filing, as she stood by the cabinet.
Smiled discreetly, as both their eyes they met.
He undressed her with his eyes.
While she fiddled with his flies.
Grabbing hard at true perfection.
Knowing, now there's no rejection.
F***king perfection.
Her lips, they smacked him fiercely.
****** spontaneity.
He responded with passion.
At work, of course, never in fashion.
He slammed shut the door.
As they rolled on the floor.
Hell, he responded.
For he had absconded.
Escaped today's parliamentary debate.
The honourable member of the house.
F***ked his secretary.
Never his spouse.
In a rash moment, she wriggled and jiggled attached to the end of his powerful finger.
Waiting expectantly, for manhood to enter.
She did it for free, cos no-one would rent her!
The rolled about on the solid oak floor.
Bumping and ******* with wonderful wails.
Those footsteps came banging down the hall.
As secretary # two came to call.
She listened to screams of positive pleasure.
Turned her on buckets.
She didn't knock.
Peeped through the keyhole watching his ****
Wanted to play too.
She really did.
Didn't dare knock.
So she listened some more, for a moment or two.
Thought of his ****
Then she wandered into the loo.
Gave herself an ******
Like no other, better than a real lover!
Never played at work before.
The parliamentary freaking *****
She wriggled and jigged while she fiddled, did she get very wet?
You bet!
(c) Livvi
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
They collected cockles on the seashore,
Purely for their crunchy shells,
To decorate the rockery, in the flower garden,
They were washed up in abundance,
The rock pools alive with shrimp things,
And worms, that wriggled and jiggled, all twisted and turned.
The rocks round the edges were slippery and slimy,
Crabby creatures were kind of nippy, as was the water of spring time tides,
And the **** of the sea, predicted the weather,
Again, their predictions, they were never ever right.
Youngsters with nets, collected their pets,
Poor little pool fish, destined to die,
In an old preserve jar,
Left on the side in the kitchen,
The one with mid-brown melamine,
Under the cupboard, by the door,
Mummy keeps ********
She never wants sea fish alive in her kitchen,
Mummy never made their flamboyant offspring, set them free,
The fishes day out died,
Minute silver things, skirting about,
Too small to even splash.
Kids curiosity got them, as down the loo they slipped,
Dead fish, on the sewer dash, repatriated to the sea.
(C) Livvi
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size ******
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's ****** marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
It shouldn't break my grounding,
Muscle under blubber under skin.
But I feel sworn into a secret club
It wasn't for lonely virtual lust
(mostly)
I just needed to remember.
I stared at that skin soft as mine
Goose bumped as mine
Folded
Bulging
*****
Curving
Jiggled
****
Unsightly
So many categories it can be tricky.
How do I know if this body was posted as beauty
Or horror?
I'm part of that club.
LIVING ORGANISM.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
I used to starve myself for him
I would go days without eating because
I wanted to look like the posters of women in their underwear
he had hanging in his bedroom
I would make excuses as to why I could never
go eat with him at a restaurant
I didn't want him or the world to see me as a pig
I would make myself sick trying to look good for him
My hair wasn't thick anymore
His mom used to make comments about my face sinking in
I had to wear more makeup to cover up the dark circles
that began to form under my eyes
I made sure my arms never jiggled
I didn't care that my hands hurt all of the time
I was able to go without wearing a bra because
my ***** were disappearing
I could see my hip bones perfectly
My thigh gap made me smile
Exercising became addicting and
anything involving weight loss was all that I spent money on
*** was great
I never worried about hurting him while being on top
because I was small
Pregnancy wan't a concern because lack of eating
took away my menstrual cycle
I never felt pretty unless I got his approval
I did everything I could to look good for him
To be good enough for him
Two years of this insane unhealthy roller coaster
only to be cheated on and broken up with before my favorite holiday
I starved myself for him
and still that wasn't good enough
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
To all the skinny girls who think they are fat, I want to ask you a question. When was the last time you saw a dress you wanted, but you couldn't wear it because it was way too small? When was the last time your arm jiggled and drooped to where you can grab a fistful of skin? When have you seen stretch marks litter your skin? When have you had to take off stockings because your thighs rubbed a hole in them or because you got a bad burn? When have you been able to hold your own stomach? Yet some of you will say try exercising if you don't love your own skin. When you're chunky like me, you can't because you get ridiculed. The jerks will say "run faster ****** "Ew hide your ugly *** from me", "look at that thing trying to exercise". People ridicule you when you stay fat AND when you're trying to lose it. They still judge you, yet some will admire you. However it's the same everywhere. It's almost like a common plague that haunts you. Then you turn to food because food doesn't judge you. Food makes you feel safe. Yet it isn't. It's killing us as well. Nowadays you are scared of food because of what's in it. Why don't you get liposuction or other weight loss surgeries? It doesn't solve the problem, it's a temporary thing that can easily go back to original and even worse when you don't do exercise. Leading to another viscous cycle of people judging you again. To those of you who have lost weight and changed your lives, congrats you made it. To those of you who judge us, at least stop doing it when we're trying to change it and exercise. To those skinny girls who think they're fat, a lot of us wish we can be you and wish we can wear those dresses or clothes you wear. To us obese women, you can change your life if you want to. I apologize when I say fat. It's just that it's a word that will continue to hang onto us. It's your choice but someone needed to say this to inform others. Someone needed to be a voice to this problem. I'm tired of inconsiderate people who makes fun of us. I'm tired of idiots trying to pull us down. So good luck to you all and may we finally shed some light onto the blind people that refuse to see our own problems. I apologize if I offend anyone, I don't mean to. I just want you all to see that there is a problem.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
Maturing into big round melons,
Yet bearing that youthful flair.
Designed for turning Atul mad,
Arch back – let them be pronounced,
Ride an imaginary gorgeous horse,
Lock them together or let them free,
Ingrained is her mark on my heart,
Narcos get so much dwarfed by her,
Gorgeous is her stupefying self.
Kissing above her asleep father's head,
Remember her I do by what she did,
Introduce me to true love she did,
Pierce she did deep inside my heart,
In my life she has such a special place.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC
Imagine if light was
Slower;
Like:
The speed(-+) of
Fog rolling along a dewy grass hill.
If you turned on a flashl
L
Light
And the light
jiggled out with a
plop like
(COndensed) chicken soup from a can? Or if
Light was like a Bright yellow cloud of poison gasthat wasnt poison( and smelled like butterscotch
Imagine turning on the hose
And spraying thick jets of
Heavy light wouldyou drink light?
i dont knownif i would id probably get around to it one day
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC