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"kidney" poems
My mother should be an author She carves her soul into millions of pieces Leaving it behind all of the family photos When I see my mother I see a woman Who wants to hide her soul in a needle Just so the screaming can stop in her mind, These bottles are rattling in the living room You see they have put shackles on her heart, She can't love anymore Without having ***** in her water bottle. Where is she hiding her beer? I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields My mother used to take me to. You know she always wasn't like this She was strong minded and had a big heart Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites To the ****** Mary’s. Let's rewind time See how to **** the soul in ten years 10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore 9- I refused to bail her out of jail again Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again 8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play, My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother? 7- I had to hold my mothers hand Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol 6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again 5- My mother throws the bottle across the room And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic 4- My mother overslept for my piano recital, I didn't think it was a big deal But I remember she spent the whole night crying With a wine glass in her hand. 3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle 2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day why are you taking 6? 1- My mother went to the doctor Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis I don't know what that means, But I know she will still be strong right? 0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday. I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself
0
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
How To **** The Soul In 10 Years
My mother should be an author She carves her soul into millions of pieces Leaving it behind all of the family photos When I see my mother I see a woman Who wants to hide her soul in a needle Just so the screaming can stop in her mind, These bottles are rattling in the living room You see they have put shackles on her heart, She can't love anymore Without having ***** in her water bottle. Where is she hiding her beer? I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields My mother used to take me to. You know she always wasn't like this She was strong minded and had a big heart Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites To the ****** Mary’s. Let's rewind time See how to **** the soul in ten years 10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore 9- I refused to bail her out of jail again Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again 8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play, My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother? 7- I had to hold my mothers hand Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol 6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again 5- My mother throws the bottle across the room And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic 4- My mother overslept for my piano recital, I didn't think it was a big deal But I remember she spent the whole night crying With a wine glass in her hand. 3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle 2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day why are you taking 6? 1- My mother went to the doctor Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis I don't know what that means, But I know she will still be strong right? 0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday. I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself
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47
I am hungry and it is reflected in the contours of every inch                   of skin every cell a-flutter tiny wings and heartbeats activated within right down to the ribosomes and kidney-shaped mitochondria right up through epidermis woven as threads of softness penetrating your inner hard, dark parts causing them to melt into                 my light I am craving to feel your absolute heart's raging core my aching flesh burning, my heart, wrapped in a love               so pure My need to be devoured surfaces in smoothness, at a glance You feel it acutely, no room for doubt or subtle chance                I am ravenous for muscle-worked arms (arms that could easily try to break) to be supremely gentle as you part my thighs like the ocean and sacredly partake the slickness of your tongue in my feminine grace the stains of my love drenching                 your noble face your eyes on mine as I sharply breathe          need to hold your head stroke your            hair know that for me               the king takes off that garland of gold breaking free of all symbols of status the only real treasure the queen who gives to him, and who he now pleasures      and I let myself be consumed with the reverence of a psalm my love pouring into you healing your hurts,                like a balm in this private landscape we are the most ferocious of tender estuaries in an eternal vista in this hour of somewhere, the sea hauls us in like ancient creatures,      bringing the fossils back to life in lustrous foam as they          inch their way into the spirals     that we feel we could call      home‎
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Tender Estuaries
I am hungry and it is reflected in the contours of every inch                   of skin every cell a-flutter tiny wings and heartbeats activated within right down to the ribosomes and kidney-shaped mitochondria right up through epidermis woven as threads of softness penetrating your inner hard, dark parts causing them to melt into                 my light I am craving to feel your absolute heart's raging core my aching flesh burning, my heart, wrapped in a love               so pure My need to be devoured surfaces in smoothness, at a glance You feel it acutely, no room for doubt or subtle chance                I am ravenous for muscle-worked arms (arms that could easily try to break) to be supremely gentle as you part my thighs like the ocean and sacredly partake the slickness of your tongue in my feminine grace the stains of my love drenching                 your noble face your eyes on mine as I sharply breathe          need to hold your head stroke your            hair know that for me               the king takes off that garland of gold breaking free of all symbols of status the only real treasure the queen who gives to him, and who he now pleasures      and I let myself be consumed with the reverence of a psalm my love pouring into you healing your hurts,                like a balm in this private landscape we are the most ferocious of tender estuaries in an eternal vista in this hour of somewhere, the sea hauls us in like ancient creatures,      bringing the fossils back to life in lustrous foam as they          inch their way into the spirals     that we feel we could call      home‎
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84
Look in the mirror. Let us both look. Here is my naked body. Apparently you like it, I have no reason to. Who bound us, me and my body? Why must I die together with it? I have the right to know where the borderline between us is drawn. Where am I, I, I myself. Belly, am I in the belly? In the intestines? In the hollow of the *** In a toe? Apparently in the brain. I do not see it. Take my brain out of my skull. I have the right to see myself. Don’t laugh. That’s macabre, you say. It’s not me who made my body. I wear the used rags of my family, an alien brain, fruit of chance, hair after my grandmother, the nose glued together from a few dead noses. What do I have in common with all that? What do I have in common with you, who like my knee, what is my knee to me? Surely I would have chosen a different model. I will leave both of you here, my knee and you. Don’t make a wry face, I will leave you all my body to play with. And I will go. There is no place for me here, in this blind darkness waiting for corruption. I will run out, I will race away from myself. I will look for myself running like crazy till my last breath. One must hurry before death comes. For by then like a dog ****** by its chain I will have to return into this stridently suffering body. To go through the last most strident ceremony of the body. Defeated by the body, slowly annihilated because of the body I will become kidney failure or the gangrene of the large intestine. And I will expire in shame. And the universe will expire with me, reduced as it is to a kidney failure and the gangrene of the large intestine.
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12k
Large Intestine
Look in the mirror. Let us both look. Here is my naked body. Apparently you like it, I have no reason to. Who bound us, me and my body? Why must I die together with it? I have the right to know where the borderline between us is drawn. Where am I, I, I myself. Belly, am I in the belly? In the intestines? In the hollow of the *** In a toe? Apparently in the brain. I do not see it. Take my brain out of my skull. I have the right to see myself. Don’t laugh. That’s macabre, you say. It’s not me who made my body. I wear the used rags of my family, an alien brain, fruit of chance, hair after my grandmother, the nose glued together from a few dead noses. What do I have in common with all that? What do I have in common with you, who like my knee, what is my knee to me? Surely I would have chosen a different model. I will leave both of you here, my knee and you. Don’t make a wry face, I will leave you all my body to play with. And I will go. There is no place for me here, in this blind darkness waiting for corruption. I will run out, I will race away from myself. I will look for myself running like crazy till my last breath. One must hurry before death comes. For by then like a dog ****** by its chain I will have to return into this stridently suffering body. To go through the last most strident ceremony of the body. Defeated by the body, slowly annihilated because of the body I will become kidney failure or the gangrene of the large intestine. And I will expire in shame. And the universe will expire with me, reduced as it is to a kidney failure and the gangrene of the large intestine.
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57
I see the soft, charming ringlets bounce up, down, and around As my little cousin opens her gift. I hear the tinkling sound of her excited voice, but feel sick to my stomach when she tells Mommy and Daddy what it is. She squeals "Barbie!" And I want to scoop her up and run, Far, far, away from the little plastic doll, On, on, onward toward a safe view of beauty. Her ignorance is bliss, but I know better, And I pray with a heavy heart For that beautiful, creative mind underneath the ringlets. I desperately ask some higher power How we can protect her from that little doll. What were you thinking, I want to yell at the grown ups. Didn't you learn from us? Don't you know that Barbie cut open our hearts and sewed in her plastic ideal Before they had beaten long enough for us to walk? That she shoved sharp words in our head Before we could string together full sentences? That we never stood a chance, From the moment we tore open the shiny paper Dotted with cartoon Christmas trees? That the "must-have" gift for a little girl Would enslave our bodies and minds to a "must-have" torture for the rest of our lives, And teach our brothers and classmates to look for the woman With not enough calories in her body to sustain a simple memory, With not enough room in her waist to hold a kidney? Maybe it's not all your fault, you grown-ups. Maybe you've been chained to the unattainable images for so long That you've forgotten the shackles were even there. But does that not scare you? Maybe you'll remember the strain When you see a beautiful young woman's scars, When you hear a breaking voice speak about her friend's final breaths At her own fragile hands filled with little pills. But most of all, I pray to God that you won't have to remember too late, I hope you don't have to remember when you're chained to her hospital bed Because the insufficiency you gifted her in a shiny plastic box Started a cycle of sinister self-hate and destructive delusion That she cannot outrun. I won't let you forget, because you cannot remember that way. I won't let you forget, because she can't end up that way, like we did. You think you gave her a pretty little toy in a shiny little package. Didn't you learn from us? You gave her Pandora's box. You look at me funny, When I replace the impossibly-sized plastic "woman" in her hands With a toddler-sized plastic piano. You may not remember, but I always will, And I will dedicate my life to making sure These beautiful ringlets will never have to.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
Barbie Rules.
I see the soft, charming ringlets bounce up, down, and around As my little cousin opens her gift. I hear the tinkling sound of her excited voice, but feel sick to my stomach when she tells Mommy and Daddy what it is. She squeals "Barbie!" And I want to scoop her up and run, Far, far, away from the little plastic doll, On, on, onward toward a safe view of beauty. Her ignorance is bliss, but I know better, And I pray with a heavy heart For that beautiful, creative mind underneath the ringlets. I desperately ask some higher power How we can protect her from that little doll. What were you thinking, I want to yell at the grown ups. Didn't you learn from us? Don't you know that Barbie cut open our hearts and sewed in her plastic ideal Before they had beaten long enough for us to walk? That she shoved sharp words in our head Before we could string together full sentences? That we never stood a chance, From the moment we tore open the shiny paper Dotted with cartoon Christmas trees? That the "must-have" gift for a little girl Would enslave our bodies and minds to a "must-have" torture for the rest of our lives, And teach our brothers and classmates to look for the woman With not enough calories in her body to sustain a simple memory, With not enough room in her waist to hold a kidney? Maybe it's not all your fault, you grown-ups. Maybe you've been chained to the unattainable images for so long That you've forgotten the shackles were even there. But does that not scare you? Maybe you'll remember the strain When you see a beautiful young woman's scars, When you hear a breaking voice speak about her friend's final breaths At her own fragile hands filled with little pills. But most of all, I pray to God that you won't have to remember too late, I hope you don't have to remember when you're chained to her hospital bed Because the insufficiency you gifted her in a shiny plastic box Started a cycle of sinister self-hate and destructive delusion That she cannot outrun. I won't let you forget, because you cannot remember that way. I won't let you forget, because she can't end up that way, like we did. You think you gave her a pretty little toy in a shiny little package. Didn't you learn from us? You gave her Pandora's box. You look at me funny, When I replace the impossibly-sized plastic "woman" in her hands With a toddler-sized plastic piano. You may not remember, but I always will, And I will dedicate my life to making sure These beautiful ringlets will never have to.
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52
En l’an trentiesme do mon aage Que toutes mes hontes j’ay beues… Pipit sate upright in her chair Some distance from where I was sitting; Views of the Oxford Colleges Lay on the table, with the knitting. Daguerreotypes and silhouettes, Her grandfather and great great aunts, Supported on the mantelpiece An Invitation to the Dance. . . . . . I shall not want Honour in Heaven For I shall meet Sir Philip Sidney And have talk with Coriolanus And other heroes of that kidney. I shall not want Capital in Heaven For I shall meet Sir Alfred Mond. We two shall lie together, lapt In a five per cent. Exchequer Bond. I shall not want Society in Heaven, Lucretia Borgia shall be my Bride; Her anecdotes will be more amusing Than Pipit’s experience could provide. I shall not want Pipit in Heaven: Madame Blavatsky will instruct me In the Seven Sacred Trances; Piccarda de Donati will conduct me. . . . . . But where is the penny world I bought To eat with Pipit behind the screen? The red-eyed scavengers are creeping From Kentish Town and Golder’s Green; Where are the eagles and the trumpets? Buried beneath some snow-deep Alps. Over buttered scones and crumpets Weeping, weeping multitudes Droop in a hundred A.B.C.’s
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10.6k
A Cooking Egg
Authors and actors and artists and such Never know nothing, and never know much. Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney. Playwrights and poets and such horses' necks Start off from anywhere, end up at *** Diarists, critics, and similar roe Never say nothing, and never say no. People Who Do Things exceed my endurance; God, for a man that solicits insurance!
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6.7k
Bohemia
humans for sale you can lick their body you can trade their kidney you ignore them, and pretend you can't see. Ignorance is the key to their death Poverty is their destiny Hunger is their enemy Darkness is their only escape. And you want to take them getting all the benefits selling their soul exploiting their body. How do you see these black children? How do you see these poor people? Robots? Slaves? For sale? For *** For money? For power? Well, I see them as human they cry, they love, they laugh. I see you as the Demon, you know nothing but evil.
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
humans for sale
I've been focused on nutrition sense before recognition of a requirement of nutrients for my life. I eat for nutrition I shunned the processed chemical ick a lifetime ago it seems no longer remembering the taste of chemically created food stuffs. though I know if I were to get a taste it would satisfy my buds they were made with my buds in mind hijacked my senses lied and lied and lied told my body it didn't need nutrition that is could live off of intuition and stuff in boxes and bags and cans I've become my own food processor now I have mouths to feed now I know what to feed and where they make feed from so we stick to the grass-fed I'll teach them how to eat even before how to read its just how I see it once that sugar laden red chemical construction touches their lips they will instantly desire more Twain and Fitzgerald will take them longer to digest. so these are my priorities now. I am a nutrition seeker a truth seeker and I believe I come from a line of healers all who knew nutrition is the key to life, here. the basic building blocks, the amino acids of life, here. when you're nourished it all makes more sense but stay out of those center aisles their chemical composition is too dense my kidney could no longer clean the code of food stuffs. My strong little kidney I'm so proud of it for releasing its grip on its twin. it wasn't for us anyways
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
nutritious
My head is spinning My vision is blurring My neck is paining My whole body is aching My fingers are numbing My arteries are clogging My fate... I am hating My life is shattering My suffering is neverending... Am I dying? My kidney is teasing... My blood is aggressively pumping My glucose is cynically laughing My heart is still beating... Death... am I cheating? Tick.. Tock... Tick... Tock... Am Still breathing...
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 10:42 AM UTC
Cheating death...
I am in a room made of glass, sorry, let me clarify, the walls and doors are glass, the carpet is woven by a machine where the workers are limited to toilet breaks, the plants are plastic in pots of gravel but the walls are glass and everyone can see in and I can see out. The table is shaped like a kidney, don't ask me why, it just is, manufactured by a factory making furniture shaped like human organs. That's the shape of the table, I can't change that, and the chairs are moulded from one piece of plastic, in bright colours and people look in through glass walls. I look out and I am really not there.
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Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 4:21 AM UTC
table like a kidney / not really there
Coke holiday commercials got me drinkin', New Years day, expect to pass a kidney stone.
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Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Coca Cola holiday commercials 15w
Amadou awakened with a start, it was Omar one of the guardians(security guards) of Yaldagou (the largest Hospital in the capital of Burkina Faso) knocking on the window of his taxi, Amadou had just settled down for the night after a long day in the heat and fumes that was Ouagadougou it was just after midnight on Sunday, he struggled to wake up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Omar explained in Mori(local language), that there were two white people in need of his special service. After a quick explanation that someone had died in a private clinic nearby and the body needed to be transported to the morgue at Yaldagou,  he snapped out of his sleepiness and thought for a moment how much he could charge the rich white people, it was two days after Eid and as a strict Muslim he had been celebrating the holidays and now he had been offered an opportunity to supplement his taxi income, someone had to do it and it was an unsavory job and anyway on the few occasions he had done it, it had been lucrative, it might as well be him! Amadou thought to himself, if you had the misfortune to die in the day time there was a private service but in the night dignity went out the window and it was up to people like Amadou and a select bunch of taxi drivers with seats that could be configured to accommodate the corpses of the recently deceased to perform this service, so taxi 87 driven by Amadou would take this lady who had died from kidney and other ***** failures, after struggling for some days she eventually lost her battle and slipped into unconsciousness and finally died. Amadou finally settled on 10000 CFA(local currency) a fair price, after all the so-called professionals would charge 30000 CFA three times more and it was around Eid "Allah Akbar".   A quick "Thank you" to Omar for helping them and the two white people left with him for the short journey to the clinic, after the usual discussions the body was released and  transported to the morgue to join the other recently deceased waiting for burial in the morning, Amadou, rearranged the seating in his taxi after parking up in his favourite place under the trees of Yaldago it was just after one thirty, a good ninety mins work he thought to himself, yawned, and settled down to sleep a few more hours before dawn prayers. This was Africa and "someone had to do it" was his last thought.
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Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
An unsavoury job - "someone had to do it"
Amadou awakened with a start, it was Omar one of the guardians(security guards) of Yaldagou (the largest Hospital in the capital of Burkina Faso) knocking on the window of his taxi, Amadou had just settled down for the night after a long day in the heat and fumes that was Ouagadougou it was just after midnight on Sunday, he struggled to wake up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Omar explained in Mori(local language), that there were two white people in need of his special service. After a quick explanation that someone had died in a private clinic nearby and the body needed to be transported to the morgue at Yaldagou,  he snapped out of his sleepiness and thought for a moment how much he could charge the rich white people, it was two days after Eid and as a strict Muslim he had been celebrating the holidays and now he had been offered an opportunity to supplement his taxi income, someone had to do it and it was an unsavory job and anyway on the few occasions he had done it, it had been lucrative, it might as well be him! Amadou thought to himself, if you had the misfortune to die in the day time there was a private service but in the night dignity went out the window and it was up to people like Amadou and a select bunch of taxi drivers with seats that could be configured to accommodate the corpses of the recently deceased to perform this service, so taxi 87 driven by Amadou would take this lady who had died from kidney and other ***** failures, after struggling for some days she eventually lost her battle and slipped into unconsciousness and finally died. Amadou finally settled on 10000 CFA(local currency) a fair price, after all the so-called professionals would charge 30000 CFA three times more and it was around Eid "Allah Akbar".   A quick "Thank you" to Omar for helping them and the two white people left with him for the short journey to the clinic, after the usual discussions the body was released and  transported to the morgue to join the other recently deceased waiting for burial in the morning, Amadou, rearranged the seating in his taxi after parking up in his favourite place under the trees of Yaldago it was just after one thirty, a good ninety mins work he thought to himself, yawned, and settled down to sleep a few more hours before dawn prayers. This was Africa and "someone had to do it" was his last thought.
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7
STOP HURTING YOU $@*-@%-#-&^!%#!!!!!!!
0
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Ode to a kidney stone
The pharmacist is not your friend He may put you up in a high hotel With slip streams of ****** pills Paxil and Wellbutrin Designed to defeat depression To facilitate a fog like Fugues of perfected moods With drugs made to create The perfect drone state So you can pay your bills So you can **** and sleep well So you can keep your health But it is poison Kidney killing swill And while you are under the influence Perfectly sedated so you forget how to feel One hand is in your pocket Thinning your wallet draining dollar bills While the other hand holds your heart Crushing what is left of your already weakened will
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
Untitled
"Bulimia nervosa, an eating disorder that involves bingeing on food followed by purging, can cause gum disease, osteoporosis, kidney disease, heart disease, and death. Bulimia affects mostly women and teens." - WebMD.com My eyes blurred as I wiped away the remaining evidence from my mouth. I cried. It seems that bulimia had taken over my life these past couple of months. Even my hands shake now. For some reason, I didn't seem to care that I could give myself cancer with this, that I could die from this. My headaches have gotten worse, my depression even more intense. And my poor, sweet mother, willing to believe that I am sick and NOT doing this to myself. Could I really do this to her? She now has the duty to care for several children that are not hers because she cares too much. She tries, but she no longer listens to her own children. My mother is broken. Revealing this to her will only break her more. So I'll keep quiet. Purging and ridding myself of my shame and self respect. What could possibly be worse?
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Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
Story of My Past Few Months
Inspiration is a funny thing It can come from anywhere Anyone What's been done Is a preview of what's to come Life hard Only getting harder My goals are far And seem to be getting farther I'm a father And a poet Though at present I don't see her I hope she can see later That we're not so bad Me and her mother She's angry with me I'm hurt by her But like a kidney stone This will pass I ask Does anyone understand? Can anyone relate? No? That's okay I've always been patient. People try to shake me Break me And take me Down There is a quote here That has driven these words Like bees they swarm You say You cannot fight the storm I say You're right I cannot fight myself I am the storm.
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
I Am The Storm
You've seen a mother Nursing a child, Giving freely Of herself. So altruistic, She finds maternal pleasure Through nurturing. My close friend Gave his son a kidney. His very own ***** Putting himself in jeopardy For his son's prosperity. The pleasure of altruism Wasn't lost on me. Have you seen the picture Of the man on the cross. He wears a smile Behind his blood mask. He found pleasure In offering salvation. No greater gift, Can be bestowed From man, woman or god, Than the innate pleasures Of self-sacrifice.
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
The Pleasure's in Self-Sacrifice
More than any other food item, Rajma chaawal can brighten my day up, Bring back to my lips a lost smile, Kidney beans is rajma and rice is the chaawal. A different flavour tickles my taste buds, Divine is this taste vegetarian, Few are not so lucky to have tasted it ever, It should be declared the national food of the kitchen north Indian.
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:58 AM UTC
My Perennial Favourite
If the heart guards love and purity, And the brain controls intellect, What doth, I ask of you, reside within the kidney? Not rhyme, nor reason, asketh thee, ('Tis true, I must confess) but why Deny its place to the kidney? Power embodied in the arms, you'd see Within a man, immediately, But it seems, unfortunately, That none respect the kidney! For wherein doth cleanliness stay? Surely in the mind somewhere, shorely lock'd away And what of pride and greed, if I may, Inquire where they rest today? They lie in the foul'd heart, entombed for eternity. So what attribute, dear reader, can attribute A shrine within the kidney?
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
The Youthful Ode to the Kidney
An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone Body composition improvements will be shown There are health risks that aren’t known The outside body appearance you will in the enhance But the health issues you are betting on chance Your heart will enlarge Let that awareness give you a charge Next you will have kidney problems Later everything in your body will shutdown Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound The utterance will be no sound Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up It is not worth the rush of death When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb The signal will be its own sounding alarm Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.
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Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
STEROIDS ANONYMOUS
Kid Kidney Necessary Not a problem Quite surprising Question priorities Think I am overthinking Thanks for using it wisely Want to say something but Wish it was simpler than telling I am proud of you
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
A Kidney for my Kid
Pharaoh Tutankhamun graced the Egyptian throne, A ***** brisk and spry. From his majestical hands, dangled a scepter And on his handsome head, sat a crown. His empire was at its peak For he wielded influence all over africa. The bearded Europeans and nubianS sought his protection For egypt, was a haven. So organised was the land: Amun-re and maat protected the people, The country grew with the help of viziers. Agriculture was a noble profession in the land, As her economic markets were the best in the world Egypt gave light to Greece and Mesopotamia For her civilisation altered many a life. And also, was the birth place of man Such, was the land of egypt The middle ages stroke and Europe went to sleep But mama africa gave birth to many strong children: Ghana, Mali, Songhai and many more These children shoke the world with their riches and organisation. Such was the history that africa recorded before they came. Fredriech Hegel in want of speech said: “Africa never had a history before the whites came.” Such a mediocre declaration from an illiterate For in place of his brain, graced a kidney. Africa was well civilised before the bearded people came: We had a religion We had education as seen in egypt We had a well organised system in all aspects. We had everything needed for prosperity, We attracted them with our gold, thus they came. But most of all, we believed in equality. Such was africa before they came But when the bearded people came, They altered our ways and put us in stocks Then said: “we had no history.” Oblivious that africa had made history, BEFORE AND BEFORE THE
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
before
Pharaoh Tutankhamun graced the Egyptian throne, A ***** brisk and spry. From his majestical hands, dangled a scepter And on his handsome head, sat a crown. His empire was at its peak For he wielded influence all over africa. The bearded Europeans and nubianS sought his protection For egypt, was a haven. So organised was the land: Amun-re and maat protected the people, The country grew with the help of viziers. Agriculture was a noble profession in the land, As her economic markets were the best in the world Egypt gave light to Greece and Mesopotamia For her civilisation altered many a life. And also, was the birth place of man Such, was the land of egypt The middle ages stroke and Europe went to sleep But mama africa gave birth to many strong children: Ghana, Mali, Songhai and many more These children shoke the world with their riches and organisation. Such was the history that africa recorded before they came. Fredriech Hegel in want of speech said: “Africa never had a history before the whites came.” Such a mediocre declaration from an illiterate For in place of his brain, graced a kidney. Africa was well civilised before the bearded people came: We had a religion We had education as seen in egypt We had a well organised system in all aspects. We had everything needed for prosperity, We attracted them with our gold, thus they came. But most of all, we believed in equality. Such was africa before they came But when the bearded people came, They altered our ways and put us in stocks Then said: “we had no history.” Oblivious that africa had made history, BEFORE AND BEFORE THE
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i want to love you. braid your hair and make cupcakes love drive full speed to the mountains love friendship before *** love i want to love you like a unique tatoo that only we know the meaning of. i want to love you. newborn fresh innocence love give you half of my kidney love break myself in two in order to catch you love yeah, i want to love you.
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Mar 18, 2022
Mar 18, 2022 at 12:05 AM UTC
i want to love you
Why oh why do I love pie? The ABCs of it and the LMNO-Pie of it A Apple Pie B Boston cream Pie C Cherry Pie D Dutch Apple Pie E Equation Pie 3.14 F Fruit Pie G Grandma's Gooseberry Pie H Humble Pie I Ice Cream Pie J Jell-O Pudding Pie K Kidney Pie L Lemon Meringue Pie M Moon Pie N Nutty Pecan Pie O Oreo Cookie Crust Pie P Pud'nin Pie Q Quick Set Frozen Cream Pie R Rhubarb Pie S Sweet Tater Pie T Tuxedo Pie U Upside Down Pineapple Pie V Velvet Truffle Pie W Whip Cream Pie X PIE IN THE FACE Y Yummy Pie Z Zesty Lemon/Lime Pie Now you have the XYZ of it and the PIE of it Why oh why do you love Pie?
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May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
The ABCs of PIE