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"lund" poems
Turquoise blues guitars Laughing baby elephants (that paint) Melodies singing lullabies to sleepy baby elephants (tired from painting all day) Blank canvases full of blackberries on the inside The antidote to love All the dotes that didn't get doted And all the ones that did Playing badminton in the backyard of Cupid's summer home in Manarola The ruby that died to make Dorothy's slippers And the shortest hair from the Lion's tail Wine filled grapes Water balloons filled from hot springs and melted mountain snow Two spokes from Steve McQueen's "Great Escape" motorcycle Three kisses from Ilsa Lund And a smile from Sabrina Fairchild Tom Robbins' typewriter (it's magic) A flying dragon A dragonfly (grounded for not doing her homework) Jenny's phone number The pillow that hit the floor at Cecilia's that afternoon The third stair from the top of the Stairway to Heaven (best view) One of the lost souls swimming in a fish bowl And a grain of salt from the sea the other is swimming in An olympic size pool full of melted crayons A vile of sweat from the ever fleeing muse A refrigerator the size of Rhode Island Full of magnificent lines of magnetic poetry Poetry (all of it) The monster under the monster's bed Every foul ball ever caught by any kid Hammocks (any and every) The cardboard boat that never stopped sailing down the gutter of the world The secret to everything (kept securely under the bed of the monster, under the monster's bed) Santa's real address (you won't believe this) The blue ink from the blueprints of Atlantis Golf carts with no maximum speed The energy dust left from dancing, hugging and smiling Freshly climbed trees A warehouse the size of Antarctica completely filled Wall to wall with raw, unfiltered laughter Beer Everything that was left on the field Passionate embraces and embracing a passion Apology free, but full of forgiveness The wild of the wilderness The tame of the un-tame Language Intuition Conception First kisses, waves and winks Goodbye hugs and thrown in kitchen sinks Art Music Pain Puddles that have been danced in under pouring rain Empty film cans Films on screens All of these ingredients Are what makes up Dreams
0
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
What Dreams Are Made Of ...
Turquoise blues guitars Laughing baby elephants (that paint) Melodies singing lullabies to sleepy baby elephants (tired from painting all day) Blank canvases full of blackberries on the inside The antidote to love All the dotes that didn't get doted And all the ones that did Playing badminton in the backyard of Cupid's summer home in Manarola The ruby that died to make Dorothy's slippers And the shortest hair from the Lion's tail Wine filled grapes Water balloons filled from hot springs and melted mountain snow Two spokes from Steve McQueen's "Great Escape" motorcycle Three kisses from Ilsa Lund And a smile from Sabrina Fairchild Tom Robbins' typewriter (it's magic) A flying dragon A dragonfly (grounded for not doing her homework) Jenny's phone number The pillow that hit the floor at Cecilia's that afternoon The third stair from the top of the Stairway to Heaven (best view) One of the lost souls swimming in a fish bowl And a grain of salt from the sea the other is swimming in An olympic size pool full of melted crayons A vile of sweat from the ever fleeing muse A refrigerator the size of Rhode Island Full of magnificent lines of magnetic poetry Poetry (all of it) The monster under the monster's bed Every foul ball ever caught by any kid Hammocks (any and every) The cardboard boat that never stopped sailing down the gutter of the world The secret to everything (kept securely under the bed of the monster, under the monster's bed) Santa's real address (you won't believe this) The blue ink from the blueprints of Atlantis Golf carts with no maximum speed The energy dust left from dancing, hugging and smiling Freshly climbed trees A warehouse the size of Antarctica completely filled Wall to wall with raw, unfiltered laughter Beer Everything that was left on the field Passionate embraces and embracing a passion Apology free, but full of forgiveness The wild of the wilderness The tame of the un-tame Language Intuition Conception First kisses, waves and winks Goodbye hugs and thrown in kitchen sinks Art Music Pain Puddles that have been danced in under pouring rain Empty film cans Films on screens All of these ingredients Are what makes up Dreams
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62
silent march past abandoned store working the burger has got me teary eyed Bowsprit kicks me into 7th and I stop, and I stop. ears ring, head spins, goodbye I'm moving to Lund to hug the red wood.
0
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
on quitting fast-food to love instead
Falen Acon: 1.THE NERD... He liked to read and was a straight A student and was very shy. (1 day relationship) 2. THE HOTTIE... He was in love with himself and he hogged the mirror. (5 day relationship) 3. THE **** He was to obsessed with football, basketball, track, and baseball and didn't pay me any attention and was to rough. (5 week relationship) 4. THE SKATER... He cheated on me pretty much the whole time we went out and he had angry issues. (2 week relationship) 5. THE GAMER... He played to many video games and was kind of forceful. (1 month relationship) 6.THE SMOKER... He smoked to much **** and ciggs and i smelt like it and i don't even smoke and he was way to touchy and he fought to much. (1 month relationship) Alexandria Christine Lund: Top 5 worst boyfriends/girlfriends: 1. The 2 timer- She whined to much and apparently had a boyfriend, she wanted *** and was totally indecisive. (5 days) 2. The Stoner- He spent his time doing drugs and only wanted *** (3 months) 3. The Wannabe- He always wanted something else because I didn't fit in, he always lied he made up excuses even cheated. (5 months off and on) 4. The Fighter- He kept bragging about the military and wanted to constantly fight. (2 months) 5. The Worst- He treated me like a game, I made sure he never won it. (2 weeks)
0
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
Roll call for the worst 6 boyfriends she ever dated. :(
Cups of coffee and plates with sugar crumbs from pastry warm with cinnamon and cardamom, and books overturned on antique tables with scruff marks and scratches, loved, well-used, (and me, in the middle of it all, listening to the heartbeat of this country and its sincerity, learning wisdom through small things). He is a six foot springtide of caffeine and literature, effervescent with sincerity and kindness and warmth. I smile at him over the rim of my cup, and suddenly I am swept up and moving with his current, in love with him and a summer spent scribbling into casebound notebooks and with my hair flying in the wind that rustles the trees around us, and with his lips on my neck. Wild roses on brick walls and wooden window frames, and the lavender growing on the curb all smile, content to witness summer love bloom like all things tend to do, in this season and this place. I let him explain to me the stars in nights that never seem to really begin but last forever; he teaches me in not-quite darkness what they mean, and I tell him under fairy-lights how small I feel in the multitude of this universe. He nods solemnly and I feel his breath in my hair, holding me on this earth as he shows me galaxies. - lund. cs.
0
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Lund
~For Baby Beast It started out, With what it could have been, What we could have done, And what I could have said, It may be too late now, But better late than never. I stand in the shower, As if my mind was traveling through time, Creating new puzzles and challenges, That fulfill my nights. What once was, Will never once be again. I stand and think, As water drips down my neck, I remember of those rides, When it was raining outside, And I looked through my window to the sound of Dejavu, Just imagining what I could be. Long cold thoughts, For my body to feel relieved of the pain. Long burning waterfalls, For my body to never love again. I once heard that we make our own luck, At the time it sounded nice, I tried saying it a couple of times, But never came out the same, Sometimes it was for help, Sometimes it was for knowledge, And sometimes it was the answer. I walked in the shower, Loud voices screaming to the sound of Lund, I closed the doors and the storm started, The ceiling was the cloud, The shower was the rain, My fears turned into acid, As my tears turned into steam. I remember feeling my stomach crumble, My hands shaking, Eyes sweating, I hit the door the first time, The second, she came into my mind, It felt so real, so real that I could hear her laugh, Begging me to hit her, But crying for me to help her, How could I hit such a beautiful being? I want my voices to be heard, Want my screams to be considered, Want my sweat to be seen, And want my poetry to be read. Sometimes I swallow my own nothing, Feel the emptiness bouncing, Feel the guard calling, I created my own little world, For those who fear, To escape and explore, The beauty of my mind, I see, a clearer world, With no belongings and no money, Simply a pen and paper, A world with no rulers, A world in which you feel, The same old sad stories, But with a happy ending, With the dead walking freely, And their causes flying swiftly, With a pretty bird by my side, And a bright blue sky that cries. As I walk through the main forrest, I see a very tall hill, And so I walk and climb, For him to be satisfied. As I approach the top, I hear a familiar voice, That sounds like the one, But screams like the two. My mind is now back to the lab, Where thoughts come and go, Water keeps dripping, And tears keep sounding fake, This so called shower, The one in which I sigh, For my life to become so high, That no shall be capable to buy. I now stand, one thousand feet in the air, Yet still hear Broken being sung, I once again, open my eyes, And check the time for answers, Dry myself and walk, As now I face a detective, “Why the long showers, my dear?” Well, that’s where my mind finds peace.
0
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
Long Showers
~For Baby Beast It started out, With what it could have been, What we could have done, And what I could have said, It may be too late now, But better late than never. I stand in the shower, As if my mind was traveling through time, Creating new puzzles and challenges, That fulfill my nights. What once was, Will never once be again. I stand and think, As water drips down my neck, I remember of those rides, When it was raining outside, And I looked through my window to the sound of Dejavu, Just imagining what I could be. Long cold thoughts, For my body to feel relieved of the pain. Long burning waterfalls, For my body to never love again. I once heard that we make our own luck, At the time it sounded nice, I tried saying it a couple of times, But never came out the same, Sometimes it was for help, Sometimes it was for knowledge, And sometimes it was the answer. I walked in the shower, Loud voices screaming to the sound of Lund, I closed the doors and the storm started, The ceiling was the cloud, The shower was the rain, My fears turned into acid, As my tears turned into steam. I remember feeling my stomach crumble, My hands shaking, Eyes sweating, I hit the door the first time, The second, she came into my mind, It felt so real, so real that I could hear her laugh, Begging me to hit her, But crying for me to help her, How could I hit such a beautiful being? I want my voices to be heard, Want my screams to be considered, Want my sweat to be seen, And want my poetry to be read. Sometimes I swallow my own nothing, Feel the emptiness bouncing, Feel the guard calling, I created my own little world, For those who fear, To escape and explore, The beauty of my mind, I see, a clearer world, With no belongings and no money, Simply a pen and paper, A world with no rulers, A world in which you feel, The same old sad stories, But with a happy ending, With the dead walking freely, And their causes flying swiftly, With a pretty bird by my side, And a bright blue sky that cries. As I walk through the main forrest, I see a very tall hill, And so I walk and climb, For him to be satisfied. As I approach the top, I hear a familiar voice, That sounds like the one, But screams like the two. My mind is now back to the lab, Where thoughts come and go, Water keeps dripping, And tears keep sounding fake, This so called shower, The one in which I sigh, For my life to become so high, That no shall be capable to buy. I now stand, one thousand feet in the air, Yet still hear Broken being sung, I once again, open my eyes, And check the time for answers, Dry myself and walk, As now I face a detective, “Why the long showers, my dear?” Well, that’s where my mind finds peace.
Continue reading...
91
I told myself I would never do it again as my body sank into my best friend's bed "are you okay?" "yeah, you?" "yep." the trip home was silent and the sedan suddenly turned into an eighteen wheeler, the rear view mirrors sticking out like Dumbo's ears. we are in a cartoon. I am convinced we are in a cartoon and we are flying Dumbo could fly, too. through euclid, and vernon, and lund we are mute and we are happy
0
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
euclid
i hope you come to none it’s done i’m done it’s done well done well gone well played well stayed i cant wait for what’s next to an end i just can put the done in its one over due what can you loose? just like a drug i give you a shove to what is none of done and what can’t wait can’t say and what i say is great to what i’ve Lund to what is done Lund to a crud i give you a shove but more harder bigger worser i heard ya but i don’t know ya i don’t wanna get a good if i could i would but i should and i would but i could and i did hope.
0
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 2:30 AM UTC
hope