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"leon" poems
Pinuro ang lupang buhangin ang kulay Mga yapak, pawang sadsad sa konsensya Nagpapawis ang sarili Pati mata’y may butil na di sadya. Gamit ang sariling lakas, *Babaunin ko sana * ang bughaw na nakaraan Bagkus kumikinang ang dibuhong Sampal sa pagkatao. Hindi ko sya matitigan May kurot sa puso Kahit minsa’y walang emosyon. Mabuti pa sya Yakap na ng Ama Habang ako’y makikibaka pa Pagkat paglisan ko rito’y Buhay ko naman Angpagtitibayin – Susulong ako na parang leon Ngunit walang pangil Pagkat sa kahirapan pa rin Dadapa at magpapaagos Matalim ang kamndak nito.
0
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
Libing
Yo Terry, you gone loco? talking to yourself all the time now oh, yeah? is that a blue tooth or a blue ear? is it surgically attached? do you wear it to bed? take it with you into the shower? Man, you would never be so crazy it can’t be you it’s got to be your cell phone clone hey lady, can you see that green arrow it won’t last forever what’s up…honk, honk you’re on the phone? we’re gonna to miss the left …turn honey, you must be blind how’d you get your license? is that Lynne? **** girl it can’t be you got to be your cell phone clone A. K., another call? and we’re supposed to be having a conversation kickin’ it now you’re text messaging under the table and you think I don’t notice? Dude, I’m not that stupid and you, my brother, would never be that rude to me it can’t be you got to be your cell phone clone yo Brenda, who you talking to out there? oh…(whispered) cell phone clone Leon, dude! How many cell phones you need? You’re talking on the one you got pressed onto your ear There’s another on the table in front of you Do you have one more? You could be a juggler Join the circus Girlfriend, don’t you realize the light has changed and you’re standing in the crosswalk in the middle of the street? hang up the phone and step—yeah, you Jeez...I…I see cell phone clones They’re everywhere
0
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
Cell Phone Clone
kailan ba nabuhay ang mga manunulat? sa lahat pagkakataon, kumukuha lang sila ng materyal, ng inspirasyon, ng hangin sa baga ng apoy. kung iniisip **** ibinigay na nila ang lahat sa'yo, pakaisipin mo ring marami silang nakuha mula sa'yo: ang alon ng buhok mo, ang tsokolate **** mata, pantay na mga ngipin, nakakaakit **** ngiti ngunit higit sa lahat nang 'yon, ikaw pa rin ang talo, bakit? dahil minahal ka nila upang iguhit nang tulad nang sa mga pintor: delikado, misteryoso at orihinal. kahit pa ilang tauhan na ang nagdaan, makikita mo ang pagkakaiba ng oras, panahon at lugar; pagkapusyaw at pagkalamlam, katingkaran o putla ng kulay mo sa tuwing magkahawak kayo ng kamay. ikaw ang talo, dahil kahit sinong gagawa ng sariling istorya, ikaw; na tinutukoy niya ay ang laging kontrabida. 'hanggat hindi natututong magsulat ang leon, palaging papupurihan ng mga istorya ang mandirigma.' ikaw ang nang-iwan, unang nilapitan, unang bumitaw sa magpakailanman, ang hindi lumingon sa bawat pagtawag sa pangalan **** kirot na ngayon ang katumbas para bang kalamansing piniga sa sugat na kailanma'y di naghilom at naglaho. pero sa panahong bumakat na sa papiro ang mga letra, hindi na lamang siya ang luluha sa pagkawala mo, ni maiihi sa kwentong una kayong nagkatagpo kailan ba nagkaroon ng pagkakataong inisip lamang ng manunulat ang ngayon at hindi ang bukas na isusulat niya ang mga nangyari nang araw na 'yon? ang unang beses mo siyang halikan sa pisngi, ang panay na pagdantay mo sa kanyang balikat at pagkahawak sa kanyang braso? kailan ba niya malilimutan at ilang beses pa niyang pauulit-ulitin ang gunita ng pagpatak ng mga luha mo sa harapan niya nang walang dahilan kundi dahil masaya kang kasama siya? kailan ba nabuhay ang isang eskribo? sa simula pa lamang ng panahon, kasiping niya gabi-gabi ay ang tinta ng pluma at papel sa harap ng init ng gasera at nagbabagang puso. mamahalin ka niya gamit ang buhay na mga salita papatayin ka niya hangga't di ka na makaahon sa lalim ng bangin kung saan inimbak ang pagtingin niya sa'yo nabuhay siya nang dumating ka nang mga panahong ang mga oras ng kabataan ay itinatapon na, ikaw ang naging gasolina upang magliyab siya oo ikaw na irog niya nabuhay siya upang buhayin ka magpakailanman
0
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
Ikaapat na Taon ng Pagluluksa
kailan ba nabuhay ang mga manunulat? sa lahat pagkakataon, kumukuha lang sila ng materyal, ng inspirasyon, ng hangin sa baga ng apoy. kung iniisip **** ibinigay na nila ang lahat sa'yo, pakaisipin mo ring marami silang nakuha mula sa'yo: ang alon ng buhok mo, ang tsokolate **** mata, pantay na mga ngipin, nakakaakit **** ngiti ngunit higit sa lahat nang 'yon, ikaw pa rin ang talo, bakit? dahil minahal ka nila upang iguhit nang tulad nang sa mga pintor: delikado, misteryoso at orihinal. kahit pa ilang tauhan na ang nagdaan, makikita mo ang pagkakaiba ng oras, panahon at lugar; pagkapusyaw at pagkalamlam, katingkaran o putla ng kulay mo sa tuwing magkahawak kayo ng kamay. ikaw ang talo, dahil kahit sinong gagawa ng sariling istorya, ikaw; na tinutukoy niya ay ang laging kontrabida. 'hanggat hindi natututong magsulat ang leon, palaging papupurihan ng mga istorya ang mandirigma.' ikaw ang nang-iwan, unang nilapitan, unang bumitaw sa magpakailanman, ang hindi lumingon sa bawat pagtawag sa pangalan **** kirot na ngayon ang katumbas para bang kalamansing piniga sa sugat na kailanma'y di naghilom at naglaho. pero sa panahong bumakat na sa papiro ang mga letra, hindi na lamang siya ang luluha sa pagkawala mo, ni maiihi sa kwentong una kayong nagkatagpo kailan ba nagkaroon ng pagkakataong inisip lamang ng manunulat ang ngayon at hindi ang bukas na isusulat niya ang mga nangyari nang araw na 'yon? ang unang beses mo siyang halikan sa pisngi, ang panay na pagdantay mo sa kanyang balikat at pagkahawak sa kanyang braso? kailan ba niya malilimutan at ilang beses pa niyang pauulit-ulitin ang gunita ng pagpatak ng mga luha mo sa harapan niya nang walang dahilan kundi dahil masaya kang kasama siya? kailan ba nabuhay ang isang eskribo? sa simula pa lamang ng panahon, kasiping niya gabi-gabi ay ang tinta ng pluma at papel sa harap ng init ng gasera at nagbabagang puso. mamahalin ka niya gamit ang buhay na mga salita papatayin ka niya hangga't di ka na makaahon sa lalim ng bangin kung saan inimbak ang pagtingin niya sa'yo nabuhay siya nang dumating ka nang mga panahong ang mga oras ng kabataan ay itinatapon na, ikaw ang naging gasolina upang magliyab siya oo ikaw na irog niya nabuhay siya upang buhayin ka magpakailanman
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24
TO PUT the art and talent of Mindanaoan fashion design into the spotlight, Kagay’anon fashion designers put their hands together to organize the 5th Mindanao Fashion Summit at the Limketkai Center Rotunda from August 4 to 6, every 4 p.m. “Being a core event of the Higalaay festival, the opening salvo, the Mindanao Fashion Summit can really highlight fashion designers here in Cagayan de Oro and also in different points of Mindanao to let everyone see what they can do in the world of fashion design especially now that there are only so few opportunities for these designers to show off their works to the public. This is why we have the Mindanao fashion Summit because Kagay-anon designers believe that even if they join national fashion shows like the Philippine Fashion week, most of them still aren't getting the right encouragement as a fashion designer.” said Robbie Pamisa, the overall organizer of the event. The Fashion Summit is a three-day event composed of seven sub-categories such as the Mindanaoan collection, the Menswear collection, and the Ororama orange collection for the first day, the Guest Designers’ collection, the Fashion Institute of the Philippines collection and the Loop Lifestyle Fashion Show for the second day, and the Holiday Grand collection for the third day which will serve as the culmination of the fashion event. Mindanaoan Fashion designers from Cagayan de Oro as well as Davao, Butuan, Iligan, and Bukidnon have come to showcase their talents. Some of the fashion geniuses of the event include Alma Mae Roa, Angela Soriano, Ann Semblante, Benjie Manuel, Boogie Musni Rivera, Gil Macaibay III, John Mark Magellan’s, Joshua Guibone, Juniel Doring, Kiko Domo, Mark Christopher Yaranon, and Mavy Cooper de Leon. One of the highlights of the event is the Oro Fashion Designers’ Guild and the Designers Assembly featuring a collection of clothes using Mindanao material such as the Mindanao silk. Sponsors such as Ororama and The Loop Towers will also be showcasing their products in the fashion event. “Even student fashion designers from the Fashion Institute of the Philippines have been encouraged to participate so that they will be able to experience how a fashion show works. This is also a way for us to fulfill our mission to be another avenue for fashion designers to show what they have,” Paisa said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
0
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Mindanao Fashion Summit opens
TO PUT the art and talent of Mindanaoan fashion design into the spotlight, Kagay’anon fashion designers put their hands together to organize the 5th Mindanao Fashion Summit at the Limketkai Center Rotunda from August 4 to 6, every 4 p.m. “Being a core event of the Higalaay festival, the opening salvo, the Mindanao Fashion Summit can really highlight fashion designers here in Cagayan de Oro and also in different points of Mindanao to let everyone see what they can do in the world of fashion design especially now that there are only so few opportunities for these designers to show off their works to the public. This is why we have the Mindanao fashion Summit because Kagay-anon designers believe that even if they join national fashion shows like the Philippine Fashion week, most of them still aren't getting the right encouragement as a fashion designer.” said Robbie Pamisa, the overall organizer of the event. The Fashion Summit is a three-day event composed of seven sub-categories such as the Mindanaoan collection, the Menswear collection, and the Ororama orange collection for the first day, the Guest Designers’ collection, the Fashion Institute of the Philippines collection and the Loop Lifestyle Fashion Show for the second day, and the Holiday Grand collection for the third day which will serve as the culmination of the fashion event. Mindanaoan Fashion designers from Cagayan de Oro as well as Davao, Butuan, Iligan, and Bukidnon have come to showcase their talents. Some of the fashion geniuses of the event include Alma Mae Roa, Angela Soriano, Ann Semblante, Benjie Manuel, Boogie Musni Rivera, Gil Macaibay III, John Mark Magellan’s, Joshua Guibone, Juniel Doring, Kiko Domo, Mark Christopher Yaranon, and Mavy Cooper de Leon. One of the highlights of the event is the Oro Fashion Designers’ Guild and the Designers Assembly featuring a collection of clothes using Mindanao material such as the Mindanao silk. Sponsors such as Ororama and The Loop Towers will also be showcasing their products in the fashion event. “Even student fashion designers from the Fashion Institute of the Philippines have been encouraged to participate so that they will be able to experience how a fashion show works. This is also a way for us to fulfill our mission to be another avenue for fashion designers to show what they have,” Paisa said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
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6
black girl burnt fingertips on blunts and radio knobs singing along to the words pretending to fall in love black girl stuck with scratches ashes burnt skin a taste for female friends that benefit black girl can't hide her DNA as easily as her true colors black girl best friend back girl white for a black girl black girl lives on the north side has a side girl on the south black girl plays blues bumps Kings of Leon and Future wondering which of the two will be her future black girl never cusses in front of her sister even though all she says is 'fuck it' black girl white car black girl no license black girl speeds black girl art school black girl need scholarship black girl raps and forgets the words black girl gossip girl black girl breaks cigarettes black girl never laughs at me when I think she will black girl psh black girl so much better than who she thinks she is black girl can't take a compliment won't take credit black girl so beautiful black girl never pays for drugs but gets high every night black girl sometimes makes me jealous sometimes I want to make black girl jealous
0
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
black girl beautiful: (after Terrance Hayes's "BlackGirl Plays the Dozens with Doctor Seuss"
Magnesium strip brighter than a diamond Sierra Leon blood Stings like an eye-pin, lobotomy, JFK's sister, but this is not democracy, Vatican city, oppression and atrocity Iran, What a theocracy, Brainwash religion, for the jihad, and crusades, Rawanda Armenian, genocides, aids, killing a minority, might gives authority, but the greatest tragedy, is the world wide apathy.
0
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
Apathy
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band King Khan and the Barbeque Show, Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival. Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys Florence + the Machine Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant *** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bob Dylan Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova, Modest Mouse, The Doors Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes: all gnarly
0
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
all gnarly
Sinuway ko ang langit, Hiniwa ko ang dagat, Kinalbo ko ang kabundukan, Mapasa-akin ka lang! Pinatumba ko ang puno, Pinaamo ko ang leon, Pinatay ko ang bulkan, Mapasunod ka lamang. Pinataob ko ang barko, Hinila ko ang eroplano, Sinalo ko ang kanyon, Makuha ko lamang ang iyong puso. Sinungkit ko ang mga bituin, Sinisid ko ang perlas, Dinukot ko ang aking puso, Matanggap mo lamang.
0
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 4:42 PM UTC
Sakripisyo
On a long stretch of highway his thumb to the road, Leon set off to lighten his load. No thoughts of tomorrow no plans set in stone just a few hundred bucks, and a dream of his own. Leon was weary of playing the game. His boss and his girl, they both thought the same. Their griping and wanting was keeping him tied to a life that he loathed, left him weary inside. He would act on an impulse, and finally be free to do as he liked, and be who he'd be. A fantasy stirring could finally come true! No end to the wonderful things he could do. For hours he walked, while the headlights flashed by light on his feet and a smile to the sky. While on that same blacktop Jenny drove on anxious to make it to Phoenix by dawn. It may have been fate or say what you will that she spied him on time as she came up the hill. Surely this guy must be needing a ride so she pulled to the shoulder, letting Leon inside. Jenny felt guarded while driving along, not accustomed to helping who didn't belong in the world that she lived, and the life that she led, ain't it funny how sometimes we do what we dread? Her worries subsided in such a short while, for he talked with such ease. He had such a nice smile! It's true what they say, you just never know who you might meet if you give it a go. Just outside Phoenix the sun started rising when Leon said "Jenny, ain't it surprising? I feel like I've known you my entire life." The last words she heard, as he pulled out his knife. Ain't it funny how sometimes we do what we dread? Leon's still dreaming, while Jenny lies dead. .
0
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
Leon and Jenny
On a long stretch of highway his thumb to the road, Leon set off to lighten his load. No thoughts of tomorrow no plans set in stone just a few hundred bucks, and a dream of his own. Leon was weary of playing the game. His boss and his girl, they both thought the same. Their griping and wanting was keeping him tied to a life that he loathed, left him weary inside. He would act on an impulse, and finally be free to do as he liked, and be who he'd be. A fantasy stirring could finally come true! No end to the wonderful things he could do. For hours he walked, while the headlights flashed by light on his feet and a smile to the sky. While on that same blacktop Jenny drove on anxious to make it to Phoenix by dawn. It may have been fate or say what you will that she spied him on time as she came up the hill. Surely this guy must be needing a ride so she pulled to the shoulder, letting Leon inside. Jenny felt guarded while driving along, not accustomed to helping who didn't belong in the world that she lived, and the life that she led, ain't it funny how sometimes we do what we dread? Her worries subsided in such a short while, for he talked with such ease. He had such a nice smile! It's true what they say, you just never know who you might meet if you give it a go. Just outside Phoenix the sun started rising when Leon said "Jenny, ain't it surprising? I feel like I've known you my entire life." The last words she heard, as he pulled out his knife. Ain't it funny how sometimes we do what we dread? Leon's still dreaming, while Jenny lies dead. .
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51
en la hora de monet tus ojos me arrullan mi cabeza despejada me da un sorbo de realidad mientras tus ojos me acarician en la hora de monet los ojos me duelen, pero veo mas claro que nunca absorbo la luz, y los olores de las damas hermosas que se cruzan en mi camino, busco en sus ojos un rastro de los tuyos. mientras el sueño me acorrala, otro dia de pesadillas y llamadas funestas pero todo brilla aun en un cielo de monet, con tu hermosa mirada en el rabillo de mi ojo. asi en la hora de monet, tus ojos brillan mas, y la soledad pesa menos quel corazon funesto de algun creep en esta hora la cobardia del mundo pesa menos, todo es menos ****** tu actitud de pato feo contraste con tu belleza de cisne en un cielo de monet, con la vista hermosa en mi cabeza, todo se aclara la realidad ya no es funesta, en un dia claro la realidad me golpea el pasado ya no pesa. LA CALIDEZ PERDIDA EN LOS OJOS EQUIVOCADOS ENTRE PERDIDA Y DESEO ME FUI DISOLVIENDO, COMO LA LUZ DEL ALBA FRENTE AL SOL DE LA TARDE QUE GANA FUERZA EN UN CIELO OBSCURO, EL PASADO VOLVIO, ROMPIO EN DOS EL DESEO HERMOSO. asi en un cielo de monet la realidad me golpea la cara, tus ofenzas y el desden borraron el deseo, que se deshizo como arena entre mis dedos. EN UN CIELO OSCURO VOLVIO LA FARZA Y EL CAPRICHO, LO QUISIERON TODO, Y OTRA VEZ CON TRAMPAS BORRARON TODO RASTRO DE BELLEZA. EN UN CIELO DE MONET EL DESEO SE VOLVIO UN PESAR, Y TU MUNDO FUNESTO SE VOLVIO A METER EN MI CAMINO. PERO AHORA LA REALIDAD NO ME PESA, SE VUELVE HERMOSA. EN UN CIELO DE MONET ENCONTRAR UNA MUJER HERMOSA DARLE PLACER Y DELEITES MIENTRAS EL MUNDO MIRA, Y LA CALLE RUGE, LA DROIT   MIRA Y LADRA POR ALGUIEN QUE PERDIO POR DEFENDER BASURA . BAJO LA BOVEDA ESTRELLADA , TODO BRILLA AHORA EN LIBERTAD , CAMINANDO ENTRE LA GENTE COMO UN LEON QUE CAMINA ENTRE CORDEROS OBSERVANDO A LOS OJOS , ESPERANDO A MI LEONA O MI TIGREZA.
0
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
TUS OJOS YOUR EYES
en la hora de monet tus ojos me arrullan mi cabeza despejada me da un sorbo de realidad mientras tus ojos me acarician en la hora de monet los ojos me duelen, pero veo mas claro que nunca absorbo la luz, y los olores de las damas hermosas que se cruzan en mi camino, busco en sus ojos un rastro de los tuyos. mientras el sueño me acorrala, otro dia de pesadillas y llamadas funestas pero todo brilla aun en un cielo de monet, con tu hermosa mirada en el rabillo de mi ojo. asi en la hora de monet, tus ojos brillan mas, y la soledad pesa menos quel corazon funesto de algun creep en esta hora la cobardia del mundo pesa menos, todo es menos ****** tu actitud de pato feo contraste con tu belleza de cisne en un cielo de monet, con la vista hermosa en mi cabeza, todo se aclara la realidad ya no es funesta, en un dia claro la realidad me golpea el pasado ya no pesa. LA CALIDEZ PERDIDA EN LOS OJOS EQUIVOCADOS ENTRE PERDIDA Y DESEO ME FUI DISOLVIENDO, COMO LA LUZ DEL ALBA FRENTE AL SOL DE LA TARDE QUE GANA FUERZA EN UN CIELO OBSCURO, EL PASADO VOLVIO, ROMPIO EN DOS EL DESEO HERMOSO. asi en un cielo de monet la realidad me golpea la cara, tus ofenzas y el desden borraron el deseo, que se deshizo como arena entre mis dedos. EN UN CIELO OSCURO VOLVIO LA FARZA Y EL CAPRICHO, LO QUISIERON TODO, Y OTRA VEZ CON TRAMPAS BORRARON TODO RASTRO DE BELLEZA. EN UN CIELO DE MONET EL DESEO SE VOLVIO UN PESAR, Y TU MUNDO FUNESTO SE VOLVIO A METER EN MI CAMINO. PERO AHORA LA REALIDAD NO ME PESA, SE VUELVE HERMOSA. EN UN CIELO DE MONET ENCONTRAR UNA MUJER HERMOSA DARLE PLACER Y DELEITES MIENTRAS EL MUNDO MIRA, Y LA CALLE RUGE, LA DROIT   MIRA Y LADRA POR ALGUIEN QUE PERDIO POR DEFENDER BASURA . BAJO LA BOVEDA ESTRELLADA , TODO BRILLA AHORA EN LIBERTAD , CAMINANDO ENTRE LA GENTE COMO UN LEON QUE CAMINA ENTRE CORDEROS OBSERVANDO A LOS OJOS , ESPERANDO A MI LEONA O MI TIGREZA.
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Through halls of cloud his spirit soared Through countless skies of gold In windless corridors of air Through vistas vast and bold. Across the checkered fields of green Above those mountains high My friend would wing his aeroplane Into an endless sky. The windswept beauty reaching out The world so far below This freedom to spread out his wings Would make my friend’s heart glow. His spirit soaring like a bird Into a sky of rain The sunlight setting in the West In shades of sweet refrain. Alone, aloft in peacefulness Is where he means to be, To fly as one with eagles High above a distant sea. To reach up through the heaven’s gate To be at one with God To spiral round like feather down And touch down on the sod. With a heavy heart and weary hands He shut his motor down Forever more to be with us Imprisoned on the ground. A sunbeam I see yonder there At play amongst the shrouds And I fancy seeing Leon’s ghost Flying up into those clouds. Marshalg Mangere Bridge 11th June 2008 Dedicated to my flying mate, the late Leon Denize.
0
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 8:31 PM UTC
Ode to an Aviator
More than just mounds of muscle galore A curiosity where one must experience in explore A body composition from before to present The use of weights in repetitions These are the forces in bodybuilding’s condition Bodybuilding is about construct It is all about proportion if one decides to compete You must be committed and not take shortcuts known as cheat Yet one’s physique must be complete from the shoulders to the feet Lifting heavy weights is like Hercules in a feat Intensity will play being the determination all the way However, one must understand how much intensity their body can take Yet you must have good health conditions in exercise before attempting any heavy training you decide to make Bodybuilding means having a goal and what you want to achieve Never listen to anyone about enhancing drugs, as it is a deception for you to be deceived Bodybuilding is about bringing and contouring all the muscles together Being a true destined Bodybuilder like no other The mystique will be one’s desired physique I have met Bodybuilding champs in their day such as Arnold Schwarzenegger, Serge Nubret, Harold Poole, Leon Brown, Flex Wheeler, Kevin Levrone, Mike Ashley and many others They had assurance and confidential in being determined to win Mr. Schwarzenegger became the top ranking Mr. Olympia Mr. Olympia being the highest honor throughout Bodybuilding Those Bodybuilding champions mentioned had their plan from their beginning from when The new breed of Bodybuilders are following in their footsteps and making their mark Bodybuilders in general are thinking from their own fitness from then They put determination in making it a can Bodybuilding is truly about how your body can respond to certain exercises and how it can be shaped The training principles come together in how they are relate So you now know how Bodybuilding functions A masterpiece constructed from sculptor with a posing stand The array of applause under the spotlight A determination in the Bodybuilder become the step out pose The thinking of revelation I suppose But Bodybuilding is about the flex and not become perplexed.
0
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
WHAT MAKES THE SPORT OF BODYBUILDING?
More than just mounds of muscle galore A curiosity where one must experience in explore A body composition from before to present The use of weights in repetitions These are the forces in bodybuilding’s condition Bodybuilding is about construct It is all about proportion if one decides to compete You must be committed and not take shortcuts known as cheat Yet one’s physique must be complete from the shoulders to the feet Lifting heavy weights is like Hercules in a feat Intensity will play being the determination all the way However, one must understand how much intensity their body can take Yet you must have good health conditions in exercise before attempting any heavy training you decide to make Bodybuilding means having a goal and what you want to achieve Never listen to anyone about enhancing drugs, as it is a deception for you to be deceived Bodybuilding is about bringing and contouring all the muscles together Being a true destined Bodybuilder like no other The mystique will be one’s desired physique I have met Bodybuilding champs in their day such as Arnold Schwarzenegger, Serge Nubret, Harold Poole, Leon Brown, Flex Wheeler, Kevin Levrone, Mike Ashley and many others They had assurance and confidential in being determined to win Mr. Schwarzenegger became the top ranking Mr. Olympia Mr. Olympia being the highest honor throughout Bodybuilding Those Bodybuilding champions mentioned had their plan from their beginning from when The new breed of Bodybuilders are following in their footsteps and making their mark Bodybuilders in general are thinking from their own fitness from then They put determination in making it a can Bodybuilding is truly about how your body can respond to certain exercises and how it can be shaped The training principles come together in how they are relate So you now know how Bodybuilding functions A masterpiece constructed from sculptor with a posing stand The array of applause under the spotlight A determination in the Bodybuilder become the step out pose The thinking of revelation I suppose But Bodybuilding is about the flex and not become perplexed.
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34
Defender Fiesta Focus Zaphira Vectra Leon Astra Ibiza
0
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
Emblems of an Autopista
I've seen criminals act heroic, Heroes walk as thieves, Humans must be at a steady downfall Because all I see are leaves Tarzan stood half monkey, half man Until he let all those apes escape Now he's running with Specter in this primate land. I play mario in a tanooki suit, as a statue would stand Sure he could take on a world of weight, But I still miss the days he wore a cape. See because you only get one master ball to capture, Still unable to catch a politician who isn't a lying ******* I am backed by deep words quoted by Mewtwo Even in minds they create from scratch, they won't believe you. The heartless can swallow your heart whole Leaving your shell cold, walking as a nobody Created as a somebody glitched through the system like Xion When no one remembers your soul what planet would you be on Fighting for a right like Seifer  versus Leon. I am looking at a world frozen like Shiva's diamond dust With Eve pumping through my veins, Getting stronger, selling all the Adam in my clutch. You will never find me, how I look no one knows I'm a master of disguise with a Poppit full of clothes I'm storing all that I know in my roots Collecting memories like wumpa  and paopu fruits Stealing loot from crooks like Captain Hook As time tick-tocks, in time we are all late So follow the white rabbit, this red pill won't wait.
0
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
Nerdy Poetry
The time must come when we put aside recipes untried, socks unmended, old fabrics too pretty to be used -when the bottled nuts and bolts -the springs, the locks unused -waiting, wait unused -the memorabilia of hope, the rusty steel of life. The time must come when cease to lie -lotions, Elixirs de Leon -when we fail our bite to the night-soak and think not -care not, of that breath that does not count anyhow -when reason mirrors wrinkles -undreams romance. -hooked rugs of might-have-done, school albums, what not become, leather bottles, convalescing sun -and the quieting ice. When I read the Sports/ Society page, I ask myself -them, 'How will you go down? -willingly? -with, if not a Bang, a Whimper? -if not with, without the Apotheosis of Drug? (-from http://www.condition.org/ )
0
Jun 9, 2010
Jun 9, 2010 at 5:05 PM UTC
Eskimos
We were unknowingly stuck at a broken stoplight as I was watching you dramatically mouth the words to Use Somebody by Kings of Leon. I was cracking up in the passenger seat but all of a sudden the song changes and I'm wondering why the light is still red. We brush it aside and listen to the next song while paying close attention to the stoplight cycles. The third song comes on and at this point everyone is aware something is up. We look around for that line up of cars and sure enough. Cars from behind are turning around and cars in the front of us take the safe right turn instead. It was funny. The way all the cars reacted at the same time. As if a plane with a banner was in the sky saying: THIS LIGHT IS NOT FUNCTIONING. All this to say that sometimes, if not always, humans are secretly on the same wavelength.
0
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
Broken Stoplight
Creased felines crossing lines, Pressing claws into dust. Western hemisphere, Reviving the pilgrimage. Bubbles and logs Satiate their under garments. Enhancing hair follicles Resembling shards and spurs. At a woodsy bar, A tabby liberated the fangs He rented last holiday. The bartender shook with perplexity. Reacting simultaneously- A minor character, Little Leon. The dusty town called him Leon, for he was alone. Little Leon got taller In a basement full Of water. The dusty town Was an adjustment. The tabby and Little Leon Faced off for recognition. Leon wretchedly charged The floor boards with sopping ends. Crayon versus colored pencil; They chose their weapons Anxiously.  It was Bring your son to work day. The bent bartender Spared his child’s eyes. “I’m not your little boy,” The child shrilled at him. “I don’t want trains, Or fake guns meant for play. I miss my mom, And dresses on Sunday.” Cats on a pilgrimage, Rarely stop from Slurping a drink. Pity refilled Cups, as tails twitched in trial. The tabby and Leon Came to a halt, seeing as Punishment was engraved atop The bartender’s grungy mitts. The clowder gathered, As the Tabby scolded the man Behind the bar. “Remember where you leave your beverage.” And that was that. Leon’s internal complexity, Being left with only himself, Dissipated. There are others Who feel more alone. Tabby picked up his crayon. His spurs clanked And spun, as his guided His feline friends out the front. Tumbleweed skidded Outside the bar. The bartender finally saw That his son was not a son.
0
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
Role Theory
Creased felines crossing lines, Pressing claws into dust. Western hemisphere, Reviving the pilgrimage. Bubbles and logs Satiate their under garments. Enhancing hair follicles Resembling shards and spurs. At a woodsy bar, A tabby liberated the fangs He rented last holiday. The bartender shook with perplexity. Reacting simultaneously- A minor character, Little Leon. The dusty town called him Leon, for he was alone. Little Leon got taller In a basement full Of water. The dusty town Was an adjustment. The tabby and Little Leon Faced off for recognition. Leon wretchedly charged The floor boards with sopping ends. Crayon versus colored pencil; They chose their weapons Anxiously.  It was Bring your son to work day. The bent bartender Spared his child’s eyes. “I’m not your little boy,” The child shrilled at him. “I don’t want trains, Or fake guns meant for play. I miss my mom, And dresses on Sunday.” Cats on a pilgrimage, Rarely stop from Slurping a drink. Pity refilled Cups, as tails twitched in trial. The tabby and Leon Came to a halt, seeing as Punishment was engraved atop The bartender’s grungy mitts. The clowder gathered, As the Tabby scolded the man Behind the bar. “Remember where you leave your beverage.” And that was that. Leon’s internal complexity, Being left with only himself, Dissipated. There are others Who feel more alone. Tabby picked up his crayon. His spurs clanked And spun, as his guided His feline friends out the front. Tumbleweed skidded Outside the bar. The bartender finally saw That his son was not a son.
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61
Alexander K Opicho Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected] when i start by name perhaps in a flap of fault exculpate my soul for maximum rectitude is the true fill of my heart glory to the sons of Russia Kudos to you all and your foremen; Nikolai Gogol the master in the dead souls Alexander Pushkin the effeminate poet Vladimir Lenin who knew what was doable Alexander sholenestysn the Siberian jail bird who was on the poetic phone by five Feodor Dostoyevsky the epileptic Karamazov Maxim Gorky and Antony Chenkoy leave them alone Ayn Rand the woman who shrug the atlas for we the living Vladimir Nabokov the school master who asked for *** from her student the adourous ****** Boris Pasternak the Muzhik like Leo Tolstoy who wanted land beyond the horizon for doctor Zhivago the **** peasant or Vladimir Makayavosky who slapped the public in the face of their capitalistic taste, Glorified be you all you sons of Russia your Muse is beautiful and erotically crazy glory for your humour and your finer threads with which you have woven for me my poems of dystopia glory be to you all in the stark oblivion of Leon Trotsky and his penman Leonid Brezhnev
0
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
ode to all the Russian Poets
. Zodiac Killer Tsuomy Miyazaki T e d Bundy Saeed Ha nuel Robert Pic ton Robert Mau dsley Robert Ha nsen Moses Sith ole Mary A n n Cotton J e f f rey Dahmer Huang Yong G regorio Cardenas Herna Dez Gary Leon Ridgway Eliza Beth Bart hory Dean Arnold Corli Pedro Lopez Mary Bell Louis V a. n S c h o o r
0
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
Killer ****
I lived in a town where Sunny D dreams rested lazily on Mondays. Nothing is go go go - no - it’s lazy to rise. Lazy to bed. Lazy to meet up with friends at the beach. Lazily chewing on donuts while we listen to songs that lazily leak through the teeth of our radio free censorship both lazily digesting in our sour guts making us lazy in the way we think. Feeding off the television, white noise static permeating the folds of our lazy minds. We now regurgitate headlines at parties lazily arguing, debating, though not a single thought is our own.  We are lazy in the way that we say we’ll accomplish something. Making up little kid dreams for broken promises of “I’ll get to it tomorrow”. But we never do. Never did. Just lazily puff on ***** shards. Our crushed bits of ignorance. Every night. Lazy sods. Working, sleeping, working, smoking, sleeping, working. The cycle goes on. In this land where time takes a nap. Where magnolia groves now rest lazily in the space of an old man’s memories.  You see, even time is lazy among salty air humidity that clings to lungs in a wet rag sensation so that we are lazy even in the way that we breathe. That’s why our grandparents tell us all those stories. So that we are not caught up in the lazy way light filters through the leaves of citrine sunsets that mingle into dawn. Still, we yawn a question “what was I supposed to be doing again?” Here in this land where we all seem to exist in a static myth. Start another lazy day. Lost to IT. The big IT. The ever growing IT. The IT that consumes our lazy days with lazy work and lazy sleep and too much lazy play. It’s easy here to let go of what this land used to be. Back when gold ships carried Ponce de Leon upon God’s wings to a place where Highway 19 was no pavement or brick or man made industry but rough and raw and hot and undiscovered Timucuan territory. We effortlessly lose sight of our own history to lazy daydreaming   That slow,     drip          drip              drip of time leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow Until your future    leaks into tomorrow Until you wake up from this lazy hell. Until you realize there is nothing left ahead on your lazy path Until the future has become your present and you are out of Days to dawdle and to say “I will deal with it tomorrow” before it all None too slowly Rather abruptly Comes to a clashing end.
0
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
Lazy Sunny D
I lived in a town where Sunny D dreams rested lazily on Mondays. Nothing is go go go - no - it’s lazy to rise. Lazy to bed. Lazy to meet up with friends at the beach. Lazily chewing on donuts while we listen to songs that lazily leak through the teeth of our radio free censorship both lazily digesting in our sour guts making us lazy in the way we think. Feeding off the television, white noise static permeating the folds of our lazy minds. We now regurgitate headlines at parties lazily arguing, debating, though not a single thought is our own.  We are lazy in the way that we say we’ll accomplish something. Making up little kid dreams for broken promises of “I’ll get to it tomorrow”. But we never do. Never did. Just lazily puff on ***** shards. Our crushed bits of ignorance. Every night. Lazy sods. Working, sleeping, working, smoking, sleeping, working. The cycle goes on. In this land where time takes a nap. Where magnolia groves now rest lazily in the space of an old man’s memories.  You see, even time is lazy among salty air humidity that clings to lungs in a wet rag sensation so that we are lazy even in the way that we breathe. That’s why our grandparents tell us all those stories. So that we are not caught up in the lazy way light filters through the leaves of citrine sunsets that mingle into dawn. Still, we yawn a question “what was I supposed to be doing again?” Here in this land where we all seem to exist in a static myth. Start another lazy day. Lost to IT. The big IT. The ever growing IT. The IT that consumes our lazy days with lazy work and lazy sleep and too much lazy play. It’s easy here to let go of what this land used to be. Back when gold ships carried Ponce de Leon upon God’s wings to a place where Highway 19 was no pavement or brick or man made industry but rough and raw and hot and undiscovered Timucuan territory. We effortlessly lose sight of our own history to lazy daydreaming   That slow,     drip          drip              drip of time leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow Until your future    leaks into tomorrow Until you wake up from this lazy hell. Until you realize there is nothing left ahead on your lazy path Until the future has become your present and you are out of Days to dawdle and to say “I will deal with it tomorrow” before it all None too slowly Rather abruptly Comes to a clashing end.
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22
1. Led Zeppelin two.Football 3.sex four. Kings of Leon 5.intimacy six. Trust 7. skateboards eight. Hazel Eyes 9. Subway 9.the sandwich shop Ten. Love
0
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
ten things you ruined
The sounds are astounding My mind is completely at its wits end The scents of our bodies The compassion Unison ****** and powerful intakes The many desires are out spoken Pain strikingly pleasurably Stopping is impossible Rapid thumps This is serious Becoming over the top The gasps become groans The sounds become screams Names We are climbing The ****** The ground shaking truth The beautiful sensual release of it all Our minds become faint Our bodies now in a exhausted state The heart is pounding We drift Into a seducing slumber Until we wake again For another addicting ****** ****** Leon Wolf
0
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
Making Love
Everyone’s so **** far away Everything is on steroids And as all we know Swells to sizes more Than even god planed They inevitably come in between us The way a 70 inch TV splits a family apart To opposite hemispheres of their “living”- room -world “Can you hear me over there Brother? Sister?” “Not listening.” “Can’t see you.” Electronic wedges that push us farther And farther from our fathers “Dad I just called because you never answered my textual message And email is too slow as you well know.” “Come home son.” He concedes “I lost my way home pop.” “You’re right, I guess the 50’s are done and The Wonder Years is long out of syndication.” So I’m an alien on this ******* like stretch of land. Ponce de Leon would claim it for his peninsula as A peninsula of eternal life A greater man than I would label it “The happiest place on earth.” But all I know is this: This earthen ***** might as well be an island off the coast of nowhere Gainesville might as well be in Russia, rather The Steppes of Asia Minor And you most certainly are An aberration from a softer night far ago I guess I’ll see it all half full and live In my State of Confusion Located somewhere between the North and South Pole Call it self pity, but no one but people like me understand The concept of one million miles Meet me halfway, someplace if you agree Live in States of Unknown So then you will Always have a home
0
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 2:19 PM UTC
Lesley’s Tattoo Proves True
There once was a TV network That made me want to exult But now I am sad and despondent And it’s mostly Steven Moffat’s fault I enthusiastically started Doctor Who Who’s chronology is twisted and bizarre It seemed like such fun to travel through time and space with a man Who used a blue box as his car But soon the companions’ aspirations To travel to planets and stars Were crushed by the Void, lost love, and gargoyles And the Doctor is lonely and scarred. Not yet wise, I began watching Sherlock His deduction left me amazed and bamboozled He and John drank some tea, and solved crimes with glee Although each case took quite some perusal. They lived happily with their cool flat decorum Mrs. Hudson made biscuits below Then along came the menacing, mean Moriarty There was nothing that he didn’t know. Because of the fallacy that Sherlock’s a fake He’s dead and John’s in the doldrums The only thing done to commemorate him Are John’s “I do believe in Sherlock Holmes” Hoping for a show that was boisterous and happy Instead of the peaceful, yet sad I turned to the medieval Merlin who was quite a cheery lad He worked for the king’s son, Arthur who eclectically chose his knights There were sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon The bravest people in sight. Merlin used his job as camouflage, His secret he did not divulge for if they all knew he was a powerful wizard In his execution King Uther would indulge. Since Merlin’s destiny was to keep the prince safe He faced many scary things He would cower in fear, but when Arthur was near He felt brave enough to sing Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were obvious But does Arthur feel the same way? When Arthur deigns to exchange dialogue with him It instantly brightens his day. But Lancelot died doing Merlin’s job And Arthur is in love with Gwen Morgana, a wizard who was once Merlin’s friend Is evil and wants Camelot dead. So the Doctor is lonely and growing old Sherlock left John all alone And Merlin feels guilty and outcast They’ve lost all the good they’ve ever known. And I am left crying and angry. How could the writers do this to me? But still, they’re the best shows I’ve ever watched And I’ll always love the BBC.
0
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
The BBC
There once was a TV network That made me want to exult But now I am sad and despondent And it’s mostly Steven Moffat’s fault I enthusiastically started Doctor Who Who’s chronology is twisted and bizarre It seemed like such fun to travel through time and space with a man Who used a blue box as his car But soon the companions’ aspirations To travel to planets and stars Were crushed by the Void, lost love, and gargoyles And the Doctor is lonely and scarred. Not yet wise, I began watching Sherlock His deduction left me amazed and bamboozled He and John drank some tea, and solved crimes with glee Although each case took quite some perusal. They lived happily with their cool flat decorum Mrs. Hudson made biscuits below Then along came the menacing, mean Moriarty There was nothing that he didn’t know. Because of the fallacy that Sherlock’s a fake He’s dead and John’s in the doldrums The only thing done to commemorate him Are John’s “I do believe in Sherlock Holmes” Hoping for a show that was boisterous and happy Instead of the peaceful, yet sad I turned to the medieval Merlin who was quite a cheery lad He worked for the king’s son, Arthur who eclectically chose his knights There were sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon The bravest people in sight. Merlin used his job as camouflage, His secret he did not divulge for if they all knew he was a powerful wizard In his execution King Uther would indulge. Since Merlin’s destiny was to keep the prince safe He faced many scary things He would cower in fear, but when Arthur was near He felt brave enough to sing Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were obvious But does Arthur feel the same way? When Arthur deigns to exchange dialogue with him It instantly brightens his day. But Lancelot died doing Merlin’s job And Arthur is in love with Gwen Morgana, a wizard who was once Merlin’s friend Is evil and wants Camelot dead. So the Doctor is lonely and growing old Sherlock left John all alone And Merlin feels guilty and outcast They’ve lost all the good they’ve ever known. And I am left crying and angry. How could the writers do this to me? But still, they’re the best shows I’ve ever watched And I’ll always love the BBC.
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56
Summer means smoking in your car with Paul A couple guys and I A couple guys, that's all. In the studio we sat while I helped you with tap and you needed the help but repayed me back so heavily you did with your words and your wis- dom high wisdom at that Oh Devin, I miss you- How's Montreal? I bet you're doing great I hear it's beautiful in the fall Kings of Leon Gogol Bordello and a little bit of Fun. This music is your voice a slight breeze and summer sun Sometimes I take a listen and reminisce Eating ice cream on the Quay a stoner's bliss You always said I was special "Not so sixteen" Had a mind that had aged like good cheddar cheese God, I hope you were right, Devin. Cause I always fall too deep. You know I felt like dying. I long for eternal sleep. I think of you sometimes, you really do help me. Bringing it back to this summer when I actually felt healthy.
0
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
How's Montreal?