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"lumineers" poems
What tastes salty? Obviously potato chips. Obviously a Californa girls hips. Your lips after your tears What tastes sweet? Obviously the candy shop Obviously an affair with a cop. Your kisses in the morning What tastes refreshing? Obviously a cup of water. Obviously a spring from the Alps. Your skin in the shower. Move me like the music and the rhythm. Mold me like the sculptor and the ceramics. My mistakes I have always shown on the surface, But yours you have hidden deep beneath the sea. These little black submarines, They show in the shallows. From encased in the hands of the small bird that sits on your brain stem all day; a little hope comes of me. Or at least I muse it would. I dream of you the whole night through, and when winter comes I still dream of you. And when age comes I still dream of you. And when death comes to you, I still dream of you. And in death I will come to meet the true you. Don't take that the wrong way, no one is behind me to back me up on this, but you always say I don't know you, believe me I really try too. If you ever flew, I would go with you and the little birds would carry me through.
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Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
Lumineers.
P eople all Around the world, Singing along to the radio; Screaming along with WCYY! I love how they play newer music mixed with the classics. Only on 94.3fm you can hear Neon Trees to Green Day to Metallica to Passion Pit to The Lumineers and Imagine Dragons! CYY is the station That one needs for life. I am CYY!
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Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Passion Pit
looking up for your twinkling eyes above cloud covers, it's nights like tonight filled with feelings of indiffence unsure of my place or if youre missed silver / white gleam moves accross the sky in view of steps where i sip on red wine tommorrow is the begining of another week i'll search out work, food and a place to sleep but nights like tonight are lived moment to moment unsure, but at peace with whatever gets thrown at... (deep breath) [Sounds of the "Lumineers" drift accross the yard ... and out into the darkness of the nite with all thoughts of nothingness creep and smoke from the last cigarette that sits perched 'tween lips with glass, half full, dangling from fingertips]
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Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
quiet night
The music filled my silver SUV It matched the sky, my car that is. My mood. The music. Grey, with a twinkle. Looking back now I can feel the velocity of the car pulling at my body Around the gradual turn, the road is wet from the snow melting. Next to the deep grey asphalt that screamed for summer, There are sad looking piles of it that glimmered with soot. It was one of those weird days one the cusp of spring where it was like 40 degrees. I was on my way to the tall boy's house the one who tears at my heart today. What I would give to feel that moment at its fullest again. The vibrations of the song I fell in love with, filling the vehicle. The chill of the seat, The heat on full blast and leaving it there when I became plenty warm. I had my driver window open an inch to snag a whiff of the clean still crisp winter air. I want to be where I was, comfortable; in my warm car singing harmonies to that one Lumineers CD
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Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
singing harmonies to that one Lumineers CD
it takes a boy to live, it takes a man to pretend he was there. it's a long road to wisdom, but it's a short one to being ignored. it takes a man to live, it takes a woman to make him compromise.
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Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
flowers in your hair / the lumineers
Sometimes I think about the things that have happened in my life. Mostly, that night I sat on a rooftop with a boy. God, I get butterflies just thinking about it. It was one of those perfect moments, like you see in movies and think, "Nobody does that." But.. They do. The lucky ones anyways. He had his guitar and he said, " I learned how to play a song that reminds me of you." *"hey ** by the lumineers."* "Will you sing?" He asked me so nicely I couldn't say no. So, he started playing and I started to sing, and it became this magical thing and I didn't even care about how bad my voice was, because I was happy. That song reminded me of him for months after he left. I couldn't listen to it without wanting to cry.
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Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
hey
While constipation kept me in arrears, asper daily writing, thus ordinarily straight forward practiced process culling material, (a daily endeavor generally mastered by your truly), this moment bares with more difficulty, thus derriere's functionality created backlog (of personal business), hence presenting literary chops, a real ****** today, disgruntlement with ***** Pack, (which gripe flares cheeks) pitted me considerably behind schedule, so...here's the scoop (hoop fully solid explanation for my absence) amidst virtual chattering class otherwise known as Face booking, Instagramming, and Whatsapp pin with ma Jeers zee Boyz'n the hood, ah...also dem "Back Street Boys" oh mother f***er..., I just learned day got eliminated and blocked, (cuz o' their wiped out, wasted, sunken, flushed, dumpy untidily bowled over appearances), Sargeant Scott Coreless forced their evacuation citing Lumineers as more *** toot, hence the emcee then welcomed, opening dreck "Johnny On The Spot," and the "The Proctologists," who performed before nares Naked Lady sighted spectators, with lovers spooning within cheeky pairs otherwise, essentially a pooped out crowd sitting on their haunches, while myself perched some distance away with my comfortably numb tuckus atop the porcelain Goddess a awaiting emetic to expel for iCloud to finish updating before continuing with sign out... from this Macbook Pro, which aye sheepishly pro state as the long winded soup peer re: or (flatulence riddled) explanation.
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Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
Godot Paid Me A Visit...
While constipation kept me in arrears, asper daily writing, thus ordinarily straight forward practiced process culling material, (a daily endeavor generally mastered by your truly), this moment bares with more difficulty, thus derriere's functionality created backlog (of personal business), hence presenting literary chops, a real ****** today, disgruntlement with ***** Pack, (which gripe flares cheeks) pitted me considerably behind schedule, so...here's the scoop (hoop fully solid explanation for my absence) amidst virtual chattering class otherwise known as Face booking, Instagramming, and Whatsapp pin with ma Jeers zee Boyz'n the hood, ah...also dem "Back Street Boys" oh mother f***er..., I just learned day got eliminated and blocked, (cuz o' their wiped out, wasted, sunken, flushed, dumpy untidily bowled over appearances), Sargeant Scott Coreless forced their evacuation citing Lumineers as more *** toot, hence the emcee then welcomed, opening dreck "Johnny On The Spot," and the "The Proctologists," who performed before nares Naked Lady sighted spectators, with lovers spooning within cheeky pairs otherwise, essentially a pooped out crowd sitting on their haunches, while myself perched some distance away with my comfortably numb tuckus atop the porcelain Goddess a awaiting emetic to expel for iCloud to finish updating before continuing with sign out... from this Macbook Pro, which aye sheepishly pro state as the long winded soup peer re: or (flatulence riddled) explanation.
Continue reading...
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sitting in the backseat watching their love. pure, clean, together. I stared into the stars and they stared at the road or at each other. the Lumineers CD, I wanted to sing along but I didn’t want to sever the thread of silence and comfort tying them together. As I watched her lean and put her head on his shoulder and he put his hand on her arm I realized I missed R so much more than what I thought. I wanted what they have. Presence. what a gift… taken for granted most times I think. I laughed a little to myself when we were on the freeway and knowing that I was fifteen minutes from your house and my heart knew that we couldn’t stop. I stared at the infinity wishing it could be as little as the space they had between them in the driver’s and the passenger's seat so when her and I kissed into infinity we could be together. Sunsets can only be so long when you’re alone and in love. I’m reminded of that almost every night. and then her letter came. I cried and held it and read it like the treasure it is and imagined what it’d be like to be next to her sleeping and our cat meowing like crazy because she sure as hell is not going to feed it.
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May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
071116 2310
Josephine, the train carriage in front of me wobbles and it is eerie, I wonder what it would be like to press my hand into its rubber sides, testing out for some sign of reproach. I love you something rotten. Like a stuffed bear toy with the nose chewed off, a book dropped in the bath, something where my toes won’t dare stop to uncurl and sighs, slow down into somewhere around the place of deep, warm comfort. Eric Clapton’s Layla played slowly, Elvis hasn’t stopped, can’t stop falling in love with the way your eyes close, Fleetwood are still waiting at the bus stop where we left, and the Lumineers croon in the voice of Cleopatra. You’re crying on a train listening, thinking ‘Oh dear. I can’t get enough of this’, it’s like burying my head in the sand. It’s a nice crinkle in the corner of his eyes, it’s like coming home to everywhere at once. Like seeing it all hug you into one, the place where you lost everything welcomes you home, you find your house keys, your blue scarf, the basket of odd socks. Josephine, you seem like the road sign for stop and road works and this way to the Midlands all at once. You’re the last human left.
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Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
JOSEPHINE