Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"likeable" poems
I’ve been told that I am thoughtful, that my feet are on the ground. Some say that I am likeable and fun to be around. It’s been said that to my principles I stand firm and true. That I’m dependable and honest In the things I say and do. But the single greatest compliment that I have ever had, Is when somebody told me, “You remind me of your dad.”
0
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 10:28 AM UTC
Compliments
The Story by Kamal Nasser translation by Michael R. Burch I will tell you a story ... a story that lived in the dreams of my people, a story that comes from the world of tents. It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror. It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees. Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels. It is the story of the suffering ones who stood waiting in line ten years, in hunger, in tears and agony, in hardship and yearning. It is a story of a people who were misled, who were thrown into the mazes of the years. And yet they stood defiant, disrobed yet united as they trudged from the light to their tents: the revolution of return into the world of darkness. Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser. Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people. Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
0
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Translation of "The Story" by the Palestinian poet Kamal Nasser
The Story by Kamal Nasser translation by Michael R. Burch I will tell you a story ... a story that lived in the dreams of my people, a story that comes from the world of tents. It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror. It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees. Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels. It is the story of the suffering ones who stood waiting in line ten years, in hunger, in tears and agony, in hardship and yearning. It is a story of a people who were misled, who were thrown into the mazes of the years. And yet they stood defiant, disrobed yet united as they trudged from the light to their tents: the revolution of return into the world of darkness. Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser. Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people. Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
Continue reading...
25
The ultimate joy of life, Without strife, A virtue, A necessity, Hard work. We think we are the masters of our fates, It creates impatience. Nip the fumes of impatience in the bud, Endure and be tolerant, Don't get worked up, Have patience. You need it in abundance, To be a good parent, A perfect teacher, A likeable boss, All modes of life. Patience is the hallmark of the righteous, So restrain your anger, Forgive others, Avoid snap judgements, Very difficult but we can. Without patience wisdom becomes foolishness, Success turns to defeat.
0
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
Patience
Okay, so maybe I'm just a little bit Sentimental What's wrong with that? So I want to keep pictures So I want to hold things dear Nothing wrong with that Nothing wrong at all So what if the last thing you are Is sentimental So what if you're a total ******* So what if I'm just kicking the pavement three steps behind you It's not like I'm like Awfully sentimental You don't like junk You don't think I think things through I just wanna jive and be a human bean You think I'm just too Sentimental But what the **** is wrong with being Sentimental You know what? I really don't care that much anymore You've lost your luster So what if I'm no longer sentimental Maybe it was all a show Maybe neither of us are all that likeable Maybe we should all just stop being Sentimental Maybe we should all be a little more Sentimental **** it, but I don't care that I'm Sentimental No, not anymore.
0
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sentimental
I need you to text first Just one time I always go first and it makes me feel like **** Like you don't care Like nobody cares Perhaps nobody does? Maybe I'm just not a likeable person? Maybe I'm just the secret keeper, the agony aunt? Dump your **** on me and leave Just to rub it in You're not the only one Others do it too Which makes it worse Perhaps I'm destined to be alone? But maybe, Just maybe There's a tiny glimmer of hope.
0
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
I need you to text first
Oh the Archer, so brave in the sky! Think not, fool. Ruled by Jupiter, you liked to be liked by everyone, be the life of the party. Awwwwww, so transparent you are. This likeable, likey-like-like thing you try to weld translates to your horrific sense of insecurity, a second close to Cancer. You push your way through life, not out of real accomplishment, more out of riding the **** tails of others. You're the ******* scrub behind the velvet rope. In all reality, you simply drive a 325i from 2001. Sagittarius, the Universal world traveler in hearts and minds - lover of philosophy, you couldn't scratch your way out of local knitting club convention. You don't travel, you just write or yap about it. Good for nothing, what's the point of having a bow if you have no target, jack *** Advice: Stay home please, stay out of my way.
0
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
SAGITTARIUS: NOVEMBER 23rd-DECEMBER 22nd
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive. It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror. I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality. We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous. Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that. But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'. But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
0
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
On Networking...
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive. It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror. I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality. We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous. Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that. But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'. But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
Continue reading...
7
Sleepless nights I dream of things that seems to be, initially fantasies of a boy These dreams tend to focus me on what I want and who I am Role models and mentors help to shape who you see so casually So casual I seem to be but my mind races frantically Suave and cool are not my descriptors although my shell tends to be That shell hides me from view to show a more likeable me But hides the true me Behind a wall of ********
0
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 5:17 AM UTC
A Wall
Long lasting likeable lifestyle, On the best possible place, Vexing me never ever, Eternal & truthful. It is the real definition, So surreal it always is. Far away from loneliness, Reading mutual fun daily, Eternal is this true feeling, Exceptional are all its ways, Dominion of my familial home, Obvious empress is my mother, My father the obvious emperor.
0
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
Freedom For Me (2° Acrostic)
So You've found a girl who can hold your gaze You've found a girl with those sinful curves                 that    girl    with the     lips     that you want sayin' your name Oh she's beautiful alright.  How did you get so lucky? Maybe you're not as lucky as you think you are? Does being     luscious, limber, lavacious, and alluringly lustworthy make up for being     lewd, lethargic, and a lackadaisical liar? So what that she's     ogle-worthy, optically pleasing, orgasmically ideal if she's     offensive, ostentatiously ornate, and overbearing? She may be     vivacious, voluptuous, and sexually voracious She's also      vain, vapid, vacuous, a vengeful ***** Don't let her    exotic, ****** efficaciousness Blind you to her   egocentric, evasive, envious  nature    Those lips won't look so   enticing   when they're spitting poison barbs into your heart Wouldn't you rather  have a girl Who is likeable? Who is original? Who is vibrant? Who is enough to make you happy? It's all you need Do I have to spell it out for you?
0
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
It's all you need
It's people like me who can rule the world, just by knowing simple little things like Fear. Fear is one of the main driving forces behind all of mankind's actions. Fear eternal torment? **** up to "God." Fear the unknown? Deny it or mock it. Fear superiors? Make yourself the superior one. Without fear we won't do anything, with fear we can only get worse as a species; We're really slowly moving towards constantly fearing everything; Especially each other. Along with things known like; No humans are equal. With differing talents, differing thoughts, differing opinions, how can we claim to be the same? The strong will enslave the weak, humanity will revert to olden times, with fear we deny yet again, though it matters not. The only question is, who will be strong and who will bow down? the basics of human nature will come back, Dominant verses submissive mindsets, manipulators verses manipulated, corruption verses purity. People like me don't have much to worry about; People always naturally follow and listen to me, and if they don't; I can be forceful. I'm a master organizer and networker, throwing together alliances, plans of revolution, takeover, by the time the sun rises. Differences are seen in how you train your people, much like dogs at that point, with either fear or affection. Affection and care yields listening and following, kind cooperation and content with and for a likeable face and likeable words. Ingrain fear, order, into them and reap the profits, they'll listen because they have to, and won't revolt because they fear what would happen. I wouldn't hurt 'em (usually), I'm highly capable of doing damage; It's important they know that. Throw a demonstration of power, knowledge, in once and a while, so they don't get used to me, and boom; With all of this you have an overlord. I don't think I'm a bad person though, people like me are just human-smart.
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
People Like Me
It's people like me who can rule the world, just by knowing simple little things like Fear. Fear is one of the main driving forces behind all of mankind's actions. Fear eternal torment? **** up to "God." Fear the unknown? Deny it or mock it. Fear superiors? Make yourself the superior one. Without fear we won't do anything, with fear we can only get worse as a species; We're really slowly moving towards constantly fearing everything; Especially each other. Along with things known like; No humans are equal. With differing talents, differing thoughts, differing opinions, how can we claim to be the same? The strong will enslave the weak, humanity will revert to olden times, with fear we deny yet again, though it matters not. The only question is, who will be strong and who will bow down? the basics of human nature will come back, Dominant verses submissive mindsets, manipulators verses manipulated, corruption verses purity. People like me don't have much to worry about; People always naturally follow and listen to me, and if they don't; I can be forceful. I'm a master organizer and networker, throwing together alliances, plans of revolution, takeover, by the time the sun rises. Differences are seen in how you train your people, much like dogs at that point, with either fear or affection. Affection and care yields listening and following, kind cooperation and content with and for a likeable face and likeable words. Ingrain fear, order, into them and reap the profits, they'll listen because they have to, and won't revolt because they fear what would happen. I wouldn't hurt 'em (usually), I'm highly capable of doing damage; It's important they know that. Throw a demonstration of power, knowledge, in once and a while, so they don't get used to me, and boom; With all of this you have an overlord. I don't think I'm a bad person though, people like me are just human-smart.
Continue reading...
42
Average.         A statistic.      A normal percent of a population. Nothing great...                             Just average. Typical Common Ordinary.          Nothing special. How can one overcome normal when being average is out of our control? Hmm... Being average is harder than one could predict. Clawing one's way to the top only to realize that the top is only slightly above average and the true top would be classified next to the great minds of einstein and issac newton, of course. Every one of the population considered average either accepts their fate or decides they could be better. An even smaller amount of those average people have the courage and strength to hope there might be something...                             Special about them and without even trying there could be something likeable and charming about them.       Maybe. A typical kind of person            Could grow tired of always flowing with the crowd and one day         Change direction... Who knows?        Maybe just maybe we'd find on a different path a place where home can be felt by the presence of a stranger and love could grow on trees and in the spring, bloom.      Maybe. Maybe average is harder than people realize. Every one trying to stand out just a little bit and succeed! Show the world who they are What they can be and How they will break everyones old expectations ! And maybe once be special.. Being average is hard work. Sure, you had to work your way up to being above average and intelligent but you were born with that genetic upperhand of being smarter than everyone else, ya know. And i mean the people who are below average harbor doubt in themselves and usually come to term with the fact they can do no better. But the people who are average. The people who are average just Ache To be special for one moment And in that one moment they need To find the one person Who could make them feel special all their life. These are the thoughts of a hindered mind.
0
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
Sentiments from my hindered mind...
Average.         A statistic.      A normal percent of a population. Nothing great...                             Just average. Typical Common Ordinary.          Nothing special. How can one overcome normal when being average is out of our control? Hmm... Being average is harder than one could predict. Clawing one's way to the top only to realize that the top is only slightly above average and the true top would be classified next to the great minds of einstein and issac newton, of course. Every one of the population considered average either accepts their fate or decides they could be better. An even smaller amount of those average people have the courage and strength to hope there might be something...                             Special about them and without even trying there could be something likeable and charming about them.       Maybe. A typical kind of person            Could grow tired of always flowing with the crowd and one day         Change direction... Who knows?        Maybe just maybe we'd find on a different path a place where home can be felt by the presence of a stranger and love could grow on trees and in the spring, bloom.      Maybe. Maybe average is harder than people realize. Every one trying to stand out just a little bit and succeed! Show the world who they are What they can be and How they will break everyones old expectations ! And maybe once be special.. Being average is hard work. Sure, you had to work your way up to being above average and intelligent but you were born with that genetic upperhand of being smarter than everyone else, ya know. And i mean the people who are below average harbor doubt in themselves and usually come to term with the fact they can do no better. But the people who are average. The people who are average just Ache To be special for one moment And in that one moment they need To find the one person Who could make them feel special all their life. These are the thoughts of a hindered mind.
Continue reading...
38
Kooky Young Lazy Imaginative Earthborn Likeable Open minded Tempered Hopeful
0
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
Kylie Loth
A Stick was placed next to another stick the other stick was taller in this stick land height was a measuring stick your height signified your potential not every stick grew into their young bodies in fact most didn't sticks would shrink as they aged until they had reached what they would be forever This Stick didn't get it how was he so short He was smart, funny, likeable all the sticks would stick to him he had to look up to see them why does no one believe in me The Stick asked himself at night no matter, I will prove them wrong The Stick learned all he could listened all he could talked all he could experienced all he could The Stick threw himself in everything he wanted to and while the sticks around him shrank This Stick Grew
0
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
This Stick Grew
Why have I made myself hate me so much? Why are society's standards so incredibly high? Why won't people acknowledge ones true beauty? It's not about the flat stomach, ladies. Not the make-up, either. Nor the hair. Do you need extensions, fake nails or fake eyelashes to feel pretty? The whole messed-up idea is wrong. Why would you put funny-looking, plastic, artificial things on your body? Because we want to look nice. Feel nice. And for us, low-self-esteem girls, well... Lets say we want to accomplish our happiness by being eye-candy. And for that to happen, we have to change our whole selves, of course. Not any part of ourselves will do. We have to become a different person in order to be likeable. We have to be fake, giggly idiots who wear way too much make-up, fancy designers clothes, and expensive jewelry. We have to eat miniature salads to stay fit, and go to the gym everyday. On top of that, if you go to the beach you have to be lady-like and sunbathe all day long (the most boring thing ever). And there you are, amazing tanned body, incredible hair and impeccably dressed. But you know what, little Miss Perfect? You are empty inside. You are shallow. You have nothing left, apart from you looks and your expensive clothing. No real friends. No memories. No life. You were so worried working out and shopping that you didn't notice your life passing by right past you. And you are not growing younger as the minutes go by, sweetheart. One day you'll wake up and realize that you have nothing. Your life is meaningless. It lacks of passion. Love. Adventure. And you start to get wrinkles in the corners of your eyes and mouth. Your hair turns white and you skin is frail. You can't sleep, for one thought haunts you: You haven't really lived.
0
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
Untitled
Why have I made myself hate me so much? Why are society's standards so incredibly high? Why won't people acknowledge ones true beauty? It's not about the flat stomach, ladies. Not the make-up, either. Nor the hair. Do you need extensions, fake nails or fake eyelashes to feel pretty? The whole messed-up idea is wrong. Why would you put funny-looking, plastic, artificial things on your body? Because we want to look nice. Feel nice. And for us, low-self-esteem girls, well... Lets say we want to accomplish our happiness by being eye-candy. And for that to happen, we have to change our whole selves, of course. Not any part of ourselves will do. We have to become a different person in order to be likeable. We have to be fake, giggly idiots who wear way too much make-up, fancy designers clothes, and expensive jewelry. We have to eat miniature salads to stay fit, and go to the gym everyday. On top of that, if you go to the beach you have to be lady-like and sunbathe all day long (the most boring thing ever). And there you are, amazing tanned body, incredible hair and impeccably dressed. But you know what, little Miss Perfect? You are empty inside. You are shallow. You have nothing left, apart from you looks and your expensive clothing. No real friends. No memories. No life. You were so worried working out and shopping that you didn't notice your life passing by right past you. And you are not growing younger as the minutes go by, sweetheart. One day you'll wake up and realize that you have nothing. Your life is meaningless. It lacks of passion. Love. Adventure. And you start to get wrinkles in the corners of your eyes and mouth. Your hair turns white and you skin is frail. You can't sleep, for one thought haunts you: You haven't really lived.
Continue reading...
3
he was a smile in the crowd inbetween the pale faces and angry hair. ushering me between the antiques. he swept me through drumming beats. he kept by my side. he laughed with me. he shared my humour. why is it, that this stranger, could see that I am worth spending time with. how is it, that he could take the time, to show me something new. and yet, the man i a married, the man who i share a life with, tells me that i am not likeable. tells me i have an attitude. tells me i dont care. tells me i am an embarassment. could i be such a dismal spot of filth? that i can be of such little worth to the world. through technology, i can see his face. and his smile, makes me want to go to him. i feel a need to be enveloped by arms. arms that doesnt judge, or expect, or remember. i want to speak my heart, and not be admonished for it. i want to share my dreams, and not have them trampled. the light i once thought was my soul, has been kicked under dust, because it was deemed too bright. and now i watch the world go by.
0
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 11:03 PM UTC
the merry man
The fact that history may ever be a burlesque leaves villains space to make themselves likeable disguised as they are in our very own neighborhood Rubes and so winsome by a default predisposition for the merely familiar whereas the superior is merely strange.  It is an almost endearing flaw.
0
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
A Local Thing
"It's just so hard to live with someone who is         so ******* miserable         all the ******* time." "He's always been such a frustratingly         depressing guy." "I don't like you." "You do nothing. You're useless." "What do you mean, you feel like a failure?         Never mind. I don't want to talk         about that." "You've got so much potential." "Well, you're a ray of ******* sunshine." "Have you tried being happy?" "You're giving off vibes of tension and         frustration." "The kids are scared of you." "Jesus! What are you so sad about?!" They're not wrong. Eggshells,         eggshells,                 step gently around Joe. I don't bring joy,     and I don't get more likeable. I am miserable.         I just wish I didn't bring others                 down with me. No, they're not wrong, but I really wish they were.
0
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC
sad sack
I UPSET MY DAD SO MUCH IN NOVEMBER 2013, AND HE DIED THE FOLLOWING MARCH AND WE HAD THIS STUPID LITTLE FIGHT, ABOUT ME SPENDING ALL MY MONEY BECAUSE I GET THE IMPRESSION, THAT MUM AND DAD, BELIEVE IN REFORM AND REFORM ALIKE, I DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO SAY BE LIKE US, ALL THE TIME, I LIKE PEOPLE, I LIKE THE COMPUTER AGED NEW AGE PEOPLE, THEY ARE REALLY COOL AND WHAT I AM SAYING, WHEN DAD DIED, DOING SOMETHING HE HAS NEVER SUFFERED FROM BEFORE, I TRIED TO KEEP DAD ON A LEASH, WELL IT'S BECAUSE I AM CRONUS, AND I WANT TO GIVE HIM AN AWARD FOR NOT BRINGING HIS OLD FOGIE AT MY DINNER TABLE, THOUGH HE TRIED, AND JUST THE OTHER DAY, I PUT DADS PICTURE WITH BUDDHA ALONG WITH HIS NEXT LIFE, ELIZABETH CAMPBELL, SO I CAN LET DAD GO FROM MY LEASH, AND GIVE ME THE PICTURE OF HIS WHOLE NEXT REINCARNATION, TWINNED UP WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS BUT I LOOK AT THIS PHOTO, WHEN I MISS MY FATHER DEARLY, I WANT TO LET DAD FLY OVER AND WORK ON GIVING HIS NEXT LIFE ELIZABETH CAMPBELL A CHANCE TO IMPROVE THE LIFE CYCLE, I JUST MISS MY FATHER HE WAS A GOOD BLOKE, DESPITE OUR ARGUMENTS, I WRITE THIS, CAUSE I WANT TO BE REFORMED FROM FIGHTING THE ADULTS A VOICE IN MY HEAD SAID, WE DON'T WANT YA TO BE REFORMED, I SAID WHY NOT, IS IT BECAUSE I LIKE FISH AND CHIPS, CAUSE I DO I LIKE POETRY SLAMS CAUSE I DO I LIKE FOOTY AND ALL SPORTS CAUSE I DO I LOOK AT LIFE AS BEING ONE BIG ADVENTURE, CAUSE I DO WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TRYING TO BE A LIKEABLE FIGURE CAUSE I AM, I DON'T WANT TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT MY VOICES ARE SAYING I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A LITTLE COOL KID TO A TEASE AND BEING YEAH MATED AT, JUST BECAUSE, I LIKE COMPUTERS I LIKE COMPUTERS FOR THE INTERNET, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX A COMPUTER BUT I KNOW HOW TO UPLOAD, CAUSE I DO I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A TRYING TO BE LIKE OTHER PEOPLE KIND OF PERSON IT MAKES ME FEEL WEIRD
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
I HATE PEOPLE PRESUMING I HATE COMPUTERS
I UPSET MY DAD SO MUCH IN NOVEMBER 2013, AND HE DIED THE FOLLOWING MARCH AND WE HAD THIS STUPID LITTLE FIGHT, ABOUT ME SPENDING ALL MY MONEY BECAUSE I GET THE IMPRESSION, THAT MUM AND DAD, BELIEVE IN REFORM AND REFORM ALIKE, I DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO SAY BE LIKE US, ALL THE TIME, I LIKE PEOPLE, I LIKE THE COMPUTER AGED NEW AGE PEOPLE, THEY ARE REALLY COOL AND WHAT I AM SAYING, WHEN DAD DIED, DOING SOMETHING HE HAS NEVER SUFFERED FROM BEFORE, I TRIED TO KEEP DAD ON A LEASH, WELL IT'S BECAUSE I AM CRONUS, AND I WANT TO GIVE HIM AN AWARD FOR NOT BRINGING HIS OLD FOGIE AT MY DINNER TABLE, THOUGH HE TRIED, AND JUST THE OTHER DAY, I PUT DADS PICTURE WITH BUDDHA ALONG WITH HIS NEXT LIFE, ELIZABETH CAMPBELL, SO I CAN LET DAD GO FROM MY LEASH, AND GIVE ME THE PICTURE OF HIS WHOLE NEXT REINCARNATION, TWINNED UP WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS BUT I LOOK AT THIS PHOTO, WHEN I MISS MY FATHER DEARLY, I WANT TO LET DAD FLY OVER AND WORK ON GIVING HIS NEXT LIFE ELIZABETH CAMPBELL A CHANCE TO IMPROVE THE LIFE CYCLE, I JUST MISS MY FATHER HE WAS A GOOD BLOKE, DESPITE OUR ARGUMENTS, I WRITE THIS, CAUSE I WANT TO BE REFORMED FROM FIGHTING THE ADULTS A VOICE IN MY HEAD SAID, WE DON'T WANT YA TO BE REFORMED, I SAID WHY NOT, IS IT BECAUSE I LIKE FISH AND CHIPS, CAUSE I DO I LIKE POETRY SLAMS CAUSE I DO I LIKE FOOTY AND ALL SPORTS CAUSE I DO I LOOK AT LIFE AS BEING ONE BIG ADVENTURE, CAUSE I DO WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TRYING TO BE A LIKEABLE FIGURE CAUSE I AM, I DON'T WANT TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT MY VOICES ARE SAYING I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A LITTLE COOL KID TO A TEASE AND BEING YEAH MATED AT, JUST BECAUSE, I LIKE COMPUTERS I LIKE COMPUTERS FOR THE INTERNET, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX A COMPUTER BUT I KNOW HOW TO UPLOAD, CAUSE I DO I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A TRYING TO BE LIKE OTHER PEOPLE KIND OF PERSON IT MAKES ME FEEL WEIRD
Continue reading...
27
There is a dollhouse in the middle of the bedroom. It is pink. The dolls are sitting in the kitchen. They drink. They sit in silence. They drink in silence. No clink. Their hair is long and blonde. The makeup on their faces is too strong. The conversation was dead Even before it started They just stare at the table – The only thing that is stable. They are gentle, petite and nice Are they the candy for your eyes? Every morning they put on their mask Which makes them reliable The scripture on their grave will read ‘Likeable’. One of them is pregnant There is a baby in her belly. She can give birth anytime if you need A programmed life is not a crime. Indeed! We should celebrate her capability Of making it easier for society. There is a dollhouse in the bedroom. It is pink. The dolls are sitting in the kitchen. They drink. What’s in the tiny cups? Some tea. Exactly the way it should be Because ladies are modest They never do their best It can be intimidating And might reduce their chances of dating. And little girls follow. They obey. Nobody tells them that they can disobey. They are captives of their homes And they don’t even know. Of course. It’s part of the show. This is how the world is constructed: Women are the pillars and men construct it. They hold the weight of the world Without even noticing. Their possibilities of moving aren’t promising. Each direction is blocked: If they come out from under their burden, Fewer people will be bearing the same weight. And boy! The world will see the hate! Men would have to step in and take responsibility But they don’t want to acknowledge how strong gravity is. Earthly forces keep you on the ground And you cannot move upwards The invisible ceiling is pushing you back Your feet sink in the soil under the pressure. We are in it together. We are in it together. In the dollhouse. In the bedroom. Our clothes are pink. We sit in the kitchen And drink. We sit in silence. We drink in silence. No clink. Our makeup is strong and we know It’s wrong but nobody mentions there is a way out of conventions. A man pours tea into our cups. We don’t know any other beverage Though its quality is below average. We were raised on a potion Brewed with patriarchal notion.
0
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 3:59 PM UTC
The dollhouse
There is a dollhouse in the middle of the bedroom. It is pink. The dolls are sitting in the kitchen. They drink. They sit in silence. They drink in silence. No clink. Their hair is long and blonde. The makeup on their faces is too strong. The conversation was dead Even before it started They just stare at the table – The only thing that is stable. They are gentle, petite and nice Are they the candy for your eyes? Every morning they put on their mask Which makes them reliable The scripture on their grave will read ‘Likeable’. One of them is pregnant There is a baby in her belly. She can give birth anytime if you need A programmed life is not a crime. Indeed! We should celebrate her capability Of making it easier for society. There is a dollhouse in the bedroom. It is pink. The dolls are sitting in the kitchen. They drink. What’s in the tiny cups? Some tea. Exactly the way it should be Because ladies are modest They never do their best It can be intimidating And might reduce their chances of dating. And little girls follow. They obey. Nobody tells them that they can disobey. They are captives of their homes And they don’t even know. Of course. It’s part of the show. This is how the world is constructed: Women are the pillars and men construct it. They hold the weight of the world Without even noticing. Their possibilities of moving aren’t promising. Each direction is blocked: If they come out from under their burden, Fewer people will be bearing the same weight. And boy! The world will see the hate! Men would have to step in and take responsibility But they don’t want to acknowledge how strong gravity is. Earthly forces keep you on the ground And you cannot move upwards The invisible ceiling is pushing you back Your feet sink in the soil under the pressure. We are in it together. We are in it together. In the dollhouse. In the bedroom. Our clothes are pink. We sit in the kitchen And drink. We sit in silence. We drink in silence. No clink. Our makeup is strong and we know It’s wrong but nobody mentions there is a way out of conventions. A man pours tea into our cups. We don’t know any other beverage Though its quality is below average. We were raised on a potion Brewed with patriarchal notion.
Continue reading...
70
I know myself, and i know i'm nice, So why would you act as cold as ice?, You're horrid to me, and it hurts me so bad, And i thought you were a funny, likeable lad. But my skin is thick, and i have many friends, Who will step up to the plate, and see me to the end, So bring it, this unprovoked attack at my expense, I'm blameless, nice, and will never sit on the fence. If you wanted to blame me, why didn't you just say?, Instead of attacking me, and then running away?, It seems like you target who you feel like, at that time, So please, leave me and mine, to do what we love, to just rhyme..... This is my attempt at speaking my mind, as everyone keeps saying, we are welcome to do so. But when i do,, i get attacked,albeit from afar, which frankly ****** me off!!!!!
0
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 6:46 AM UTC
unprovoked
violet lips on violet lips why would you like me (i                                               changed                                                               this                                                                       line                                                                              10 times                                                                                               for                                                                                                    you) look at other boys, 10000000 times more loveable than me 10000000 times more likeable than me but yeah me, i change lines 10 times for girls as magnificent as you so one chance would be appreciated p.s. violet lips on violet lips
0
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
Violet lips
I resist the temptation to become fond of politicians who entertain me with clever lines said with likeable energetic-charisma; Instead, I do my best to evaluate how a politician’s policy-proposals will affect the joy and happiness of myself and others in society.
0
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
Are Politicians Entertaining?
i saw you the other day and you tried to stop me to say that you liked to practice with me some day .... some words you thought gelled with your thoughts but i was in a rush kept on walking i didn't look back i didn't turn back .....till i .. i stopped to look back oh no!! ...poor nettie do come back .... im  so selfish .... so inhuman i ran back.. but you you   where gone #hey ...i called wait.....lets stay and chat come join me come ...don't be sad but you kept walking just walking further ,further away ............................................................................. you never thought you were special or likeable .... but im telling you that you are beautiful and flawless never thought you mattered or held any importance but your the most human of any human Ive met you feel and felt deeply and that's what makes you human for Antoinette
0
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
for nettie
I don't know if I deserve to be sad that you died It feels like I didn't earn it Like if I'm sad I'm pretending for attention I don't know if we were close enough I don't think I texted you back enough or respected you enough After so many years of resentment I don't know if I get to love you It doesn't feel like my loss. It feels like my siblings lost their dad And my mom lost her husband And I'm so sad for my family but it doesn't feel like my father died. Everyone tells me that you were a good person And I believe them But I don't think I thought so when you were still here And now we share the same sins It's the first thing we've had in common When I was writing your eulogy it felt like I was writing a paper It was like I was writing it for someone else Someone who knew their dad Someone who liked their dad Someone who was liked by their dad. The only thing we understood about each other was the bad parts Because we recognized them. And neither of us liked either of us. If you were such a bad person I think I am too The passive aggressiveness The drinking to be likeable The sneakiness The lust The pride My personality is like mom's but my vices are from you. I don't think we were so distant because we didn't understand each other I think we disliked each other because we understood each other perfectly.
0
Dec 13, 2022
Dec 13, 2022 at 4:14 PM UTC
Dad