"larson" poems
arson farson
larson? pio
leo trio el feo
angle fangle
his mite
is frite
scrap flap
trap slap hlap,
harun al rash
enter trash, mash
grate great
***** sheikh
eel feel meal really real
aeal steel molecular
trust bust, shrekular
even bush
shrugs off
the north tower.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
REHAB
MY PARENTS WANTED ME TO GO TO REHAB
BUT I JUST SAY NO, I HATE REHAB CAUSE IT’S WHERE CRAZY PEOPLE GO
CRAZY PEOPLE WHO BASH PEOPLE UP, FOR BEING THERE OWN PERSON
CRAZY PEOPLE, WHO GET UP TO MISCHIEF, FOR GRAND LARSON
YOU SEE MY FOLKS WANTED ME TO GO TO REHAB
BUT I SAY NO, THEY WANTED ME TO GO AND GET BETTER
BUT I SAY I AM BETTER OFF AT HOME
SITTING ON MY COUCH WITH MY ART AND COMPUTER BY MY SIDE
IS WAY BETTER THAN GOING TO REHAB
TO SEE SOME BIKIE RIP THE TV OUT OF THE WALL
I HATE GOING TO REHAB, CAUSE I AM NOT THAT SICK
YOU SEE ONLY NERDS GET BETTER, AND I AIN’T NO NERD
I WANT TO STOP BAD THOUGHTS, BUT I CAN DO THAT ON THE COUCH
I DON’T NEED NO MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL TELLING ME HOW TO ACT
I DON’T WANT TO GO TO REHAB, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME
I HAVE MY OWN WAYS OF REFORMING MYSELF RATHER THAN LISTENING TO IDIOTS IN THERE
THE ONLY ****** I AM IS A YOUTUBE ONE
AND I IF I SEE ANYONE FROM THERE, I SAY I BETTER LEAVE THEM ALONE
AND THEY WILL COME HOME, TO TELL ME THEIR PROBLEMS, AS IF I CAN HELP OH ****
MY PARENTS WANTED ME TO GO TO REHAB, BUT I SAY NO
MY LIFE IS SITTING ON THE COUCH WITH MY TAPESTRY AND COKE AND COMPUTER, OH YEAH
AND NOW, A SAILOR WENT TO SEA SEA SEA, TO SEE WHAT HE CAN SEE SEE SEE
AND ALL THAT HE CAN SEE SEE SEE, WAS A PACKET OF CHEDDAR CHEESE CCs
AND BRIAN ALLAN YELLED OUT WHERE’S THE SALSA, MY DEAR BOY
MY PARENTS WANT ME TO GO TO REHAB AND I SAY NO
REHAB IS A PLACE FOR LOSERWS
AND I SAY NO, I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE MY COMPUTER, OR MY ART
JUST TO GET YELLED AT IN REHAB, NO NO NO NO NO
THE ONLY ****** IN ME IS AC YOUTUBE ******
I AM OBSSESED WITH YOUTUBE AND MY ART
IF YOU WANT ME BACK IN REHAB, YOU CAN GO AND KISS MY ***
CAUSE I HATE REHAB, WITH A PASSION, DUDES
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
AN Angel AND A Pair OF Shoes Book Launch Today ON Face Book From 12 Noon Central TO 4 PM/...
https://www.facebook.com/events/1478598202406197/
https://www.facebook.com/events/1478598202406197/
I want to invite everyone to Meet My friend and Author Kim Kruse Thompson
and Illustrator and friend Sannel Larson.....
book event today on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/events/1478598202406197/
come join us .. and win free free books and gifts..
and help raise money for the kids..
http://www.beanangel.org/donate.html#.VEJ7-hZFEpH
Be An Angel ....
https://www.facebook.com/events/1478598202406197/
Come have fun with us... get to know the Author and Illustrator and have fun..
This is a children's book.. it is so precious
http://www.amazon.com/Angel-Pair-Shoes-Sunnie-Day/dp/1500967831/ref=asap_B005Irabw2_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1413635122&sr;=1-1
The book is on Amazon...
50 % OF THE Proceeds go to helping the Children..
http://www.beanangel.org/donate.html#.VEJ7-hZFEpH
Come check us out today starts at noon today central time till 4pm
God Bless you all...
Debbie
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
I stood slumped into the corner
of two converging granite counter tops,
struggling to focus on what
he's remembering next—some bland anecdote
or an irrelevant detail: *Larson,
I think,* he says finally.
Between pauses—with small, contemplating eyes
set deep, split by his dark, Italian nose—
and dragged uhhh's and hmmm's,
a sowed adoration splits and grows,
a seed (a supernova now).
A man—half my connection
to this world, to existence,
to a trickling, patient bloodline.
He, I; a rambling, scatterbrained mess
of neurons and hard-wiring, sparks and electrical fires.
My father: plagued by anger and impatience,
a sitcom of clumsiness and a tied-tongue,
blessed by conviction, faith and reason.
I don't say any of this. He'll die first,
never knowing how easily I'm reminded
of what I am to become, 32 years from now,
unless he finds me drunk, perhaps after reciting vows,
now vulnerable to cheapening emotion into language.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Kate Larson, Carol Ulverness--
19-year-old goddesses
I knew at college:
beauty so inward and effortless--
like Botticelli's "The Birth of Venus"--
that that of even the most celebrated actresses and models
seems to be contrived and self-conscious.
Like all of us, they're in their 40's now--
I wonder what they're like. . . .
Does some inner flame
still illuminate their faces and bodies?
Or were they flowers--
whose petals now have faded and fallen?
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
They still weep;
Not as often in those early days
When the telegram delivery boy,
Every bit as foreboding as the Grim Reaper,
Had arrived at their particular doorstep,
But at odd, importune times:
When the light shines just so in his old bedroom,
(Some instances just as he left it,
Other times clean and empty
As if never occupied at all)
The sound of boys playing baseball
In the field on the Klondike Road,
The bells at the Methodist Church
Ringing for another young couple.
Still, the world rolls along
In its own diffident manner:
There are cars, butter, and gasoline now,
Young men who were at Midway and Omaha Beach
Are back on the line at the mill,
Their mothers plan weddings
And buy dresses from Larson’s down in Ridgway.
They may pause briefly if they catch something
In the eye of a friend
Who has no need to buy frocks
Or reserve banquet halls,
And they will say, casting down their eyes a bit
Life goes on, I guess.
Yes, but they still weep
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
Born- my parents hadn't planned me.. I wonder why?
One- life is good- no worries except if I should drop this bowl on the floor- I think I will.
Two- same old, same old- I'm beginning to talk..
Three- learning all about the interesting things in the house- is that a stove?
Four- pre-K, I'm learning that my brother is a little weird...
Five- kindergarten- I don't really enjoy school at this time..
Six-school starts- I'm weary at first but then I start to love it. I also get my first look at love- his name was Jonathan- but then he moved
Seven-I get to see my first taste of snow, breathtaking
Eight- I begin helping the special kids at my school- I think one if them falls in love with me.. I was the only one who could calms him down.
Nine- I begin my journey of my obsession with books. Ms Newman helped with that.
Ten- I enter fifth grade- my last year- I loved my teachers- they were preparing us for the middle school changing of classes
Eleven- middle school- I'm in band, playing french horn- it was exciting. I loved it. I also learning about real friends during this time...
Twelve - in band again- I play a solo- and I did good. I form a club at my school first priority. My brother has an open heart surgery- I realize how precious life is.
Thirteen-eighth grade- I cried at the end of it- mainly about band.. I made a lasting relationship with my director, Mr. Williams and Mrs. Larson- I loved being with the band.
Fourteen- high-school- I wasn't prepared for the drama and problems that would arise- I meet my largest problem- my section leader in band- let me tell you that I loved marching band it was(and still is) the best.
Fifteen-I was still having problems with my section leader- now turned drum major.. But I think that we are good now..I also fall for him as well. So..
Sixteen
I haven't gotten that far yet- only two weeks and I'll be 16, but let's hope that my life has taught me well.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Promise yourself to be strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind. Look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true. Think only of the best, work only for the best, and expect only the best. Forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future. Give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others. Live in the faith that the whole world is on your side so long as you are true to the best that is in you!
-Christian D. Larson
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
Shady eyes, Shady times
Im not sure if im fine
Got lies and lines laid out
Like what the **** Ima rewind time
Pay dont rise, paying fines
School only taught me to align
its lies, so i did lines railed out
like ima rewind time; **** this clout
Eighty nights, bubbly fine
Killin lines, killin my
Empty nights, bubbly like
Killin ryhmes, killin myself
Became fine in this blue life i laid out
But what the **** im in a drought
In the muck, bout to sell out
my soul to the devil, but im not ready now, its a buyers market
And i need a lot for my soul to darkin
Trying to get in my pocket? ... ya just sharkin
Try to harkin back to the old days
Might be a farce when forest fires alarm us of incoming disaster
Were caught in its larson
Stealing from the earth like they bought it
Maybe were brought in by those who've fought sin
By the lawful, justice but rarely applauded
By those who other dimensions have allotted us
Maybe were caught in an ascension
Too much for some men to mention
In these shady times. shady nights
Wth lies n lines laid out to hold minds in detention.
What the **** time to rewind time
Go back to the new dimension
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
There should be a
Hello **** Poetry
Site
For soccer moms
Basement dwellers
Gothers
And those who
Think they can write
‘This is how we feel...’
Is what I’ll hear
But I’ll tread without fear
Take my time
To rhyme
For about 80% of my poetry
Is **** too
Ask my exes
My 2nd year creative writing
Teacher ms Larson
Would agree
‘Your Words go nowhere Eric...’
Except to
Hello **** Poetry
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
The myth of the house
Is that it's tasteful.
But your mother exalted its beauty.
Cover your eyes,
Sit still in blindness,
Let her take the wheel,
Wait in line.
The light shrieks in chorus.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC