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"lyfe" poems
**** SON I see your name glisten, your heart races And with this multikill you will reach high places scream aloud and build up the streak Listen to fggts as they critique MLG m9, Don't play if your noob hardc0re the only way we do 1v1 m3 if your so tough Il nock you out, im 6ft and buff **** dont even try to stop me Im a genius, im pro, im to mlgee The more you boast, the harder you'll crash *** off m9 your just jealous of my ca$h ******* HACKER **** off scrub you dont even lift Hubris and Pride, condemned and forsaken Act like a god, treated like Satan The game is over, you've won and congrats. I'm sure your more of a man after that. mlg for lyfe yeah right onto the next game because you're alone and need people online to call your own
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
mlg p03m
Most glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day, Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin; And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away Captivity thence captive, us to win: This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin; And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye, Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin, May live for ever in felicity! And that Thy love we weighing worthily, May likewise love Thee for the same againe; And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy, With love may one another entertayne! So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought, —Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
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3.2k
Easter
Satisfyed with friends Satisfyed with family Satisfyed with place Satisfyed with lyfe Tell me, are you satisfied or happy?
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
Eid
www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4UqMyldS7Q&list=PLbM5LMVZad0YmCXr99fAtAHetTUX2BWj8&index=2&t=0s
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Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 1:02 PM UTC
lyfe
Whose pizza here, I do not know. He's partying in the dorm below; I do not think that he would mind Me taking seven slices home.
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May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 5:39 PM UTC
The Dorm Lyfe
I was just thinking about lyfe and my mind decided to run away and come up with some weird questions. Here they are! If you were a squid, what would your favorite kind of muffin be? If you were a riptide sqiud what would your----OSTRICH ATTACK!!!! OH NO! Sorry. Just got attacked by an un-adhesified ostrich. I will continue now. If you were a riptide squid, would you have a white car? If you were a cat what would be your favourite type of human? If you were a Cat food truck driver, on a scale of 1-10, how tasty would you consider yourself to be? What would your reaction be if you were at your favorite restaurant and suddenly a dolphin wearing a fake mustache as a disguise, and eating a fajita appeared on your head and began to tap dance while singing twinkle twinkle little star in a high opera voice?
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
a series of slothified quEstiOns
I am dyslexic, And I can spell: D-e-p-r-e-s-s-i-o-n. Font wards and backwards. I can invent new ways, How it looks, sounds. I am dyslexic And I stumble over the word: L-I-F-E. This lyfe's Syllables I have yet to conquer Or the ability to make it possible. Life                                Lyef            Liph                                                                             Lief
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
Dyslexia
Smoking out of your roommates' hookah, we blow smoke rings into the center of the room as our heads press into the backs of couches. Drinking out of plastic cups and writing **** LYFE" on our knuckles we dabble in the witchcraft of half-truths. I feel beautiful in this moment. Wearing combat boots, torn tights and a cardigan I stomp through your living room not giving two ***** I flirt with the table, the chairs and even your brother. Tonight is about me. I had woken up this morning with a ****** piercing and curls stuck to my neck, my fists balled up in soft blankets. Doubting everything, I tried running through my thoughts with my eyes shut, only picking up fragments of sentences and bad music. A full moon and a monroe the only tangible proof that last night even happened. I have grown accustomed to holding my own hand in public, taking up the place that I had reserved for you. With our lunch date canceled, I'm free to go dancing with poets and *** heads. Twist my fingers into the hem of the skirts that tickle my knee caps, I laugh as loud as my lungs will allow. If you looked at the back of my throat you might see the words I am saving for a much anticipated stranger. A beautiful doe-eyed stranger who drinks me in like his favorite liquor. "You can never have too much of a good thing, babe."
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Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
all the days before tomorrow.
waited for your calle todaye when it did not come i kurst' this cold and krewel daye oft played are the games of love and lyfe skillfullye laide are the snares and traps we playe the hunter we are the baite be it known to alle we are the prey and i knowinge the price of painfulle lessons learned forsooke that knowledge which thru livinge alle mustte earne and thought to safely lure you in withe mine open hearte yes i kurse this bryghte and sunnye daye shoulde not the skye be fulle of kloudse an' fey ? 'twoulde match my moode... . . Pic Poem http://oi65.tinypic.com/dq2i48.jpg . .
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Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 12:09 AM UTC
We Playe the Hunter
The Holy Bible, th'historie of man, And God and man, and God as man on earth;      The true account of how the world began; The treasure mapp that leades to love and mirth; The looking glasse wherein is seene the faire      Image of God, and all mans ugly sinnes;      The written word of God for ev'ry heir Of saving grace who runnes the race and winnes; The booke of lyfe writ in my Saviours bloud,      Dictated by the Spirits whisper'd breath;      The foil for ev'ry curse; the cure for death; The greatest booke about the greatest good;      The pasture for the sheepe; the sheepefold rod;      Manna from heav'n; the ladder up to God.
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Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 2:21 PM UTC
The Holy Bible
Life is good, I have a beautiful girl I can't believe I have. Life is good, I have awesome friends Who stick by my side through Thick and thin Life is good, My Girl loves me and I feel the same This boils for a... Budding romance
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Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
Lyfe is Gud
KITTY ZITTY AND P-DITTY WERE BFFS FOR LYFE BUT THEN ONE DIED AND WE ALL CRIED THE WHOLE NIGHT LONG BOO-HOO
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
triplets
AS SURE AS SHOES IS SHOES out of the interlocking needles a sock grows hanging from its needles the sock a chrysalis Auntie Marge's socks as if a rainbow had grown two feet Auntie Marge's infamous rainbow socks flying off for Christmas Paris..New York...Termonfeckin nieces nephews children grandchildren all wearing rainbow socks the half grown sock tick of a grandfather clock wait for the mourners to return her needles in a cigar tin standing to attention sticking their heads out of the bin some large crochet needles "As sure as shoes is shoes I kept warm the feet of this here family!" clock cuts up Time into little bits so that the humans can understand *** Her grandfather was a cobbler and would always say this whatever the situation. People would always need shoes...although the family of the cobbler often did without as shoes is what put food on the table. But who is wurs shod, than the shoemakers wyfe, With shops full of newe shapen shoes all hir lyfe? [1546 J. Heywood Dialogue of Proverbs i. xi. E1V] All languages have same sounding adages...whatever the profession. Les cordonniers sont les plus mal chaussés. with a first quote by Montaigne : Quand nous veoyons un homme mal chaussé, nous disons que ce n'est pas merveille s'il est chaussetier in In German: Die Kinder des Schusters haben die schlechtesten Schuhe. In Spanish (En casa de herrero, cuchillo de palo "In a blacksmith's home, knives are wooden"). In Chinese "the lady who sells fans fans herself with her hands", In Arabic, "at the potter's house water is served in a broken jug". *** Her grandfather was a cobbler and would always say this whatever the situation. People would always need shoes...although the family of the cobbler often did without as shoes is what put food on the table. "Chomh cinnte is bróga atá bróga!" as she would say in her Irish. Her grandfather would shorten it to" is bróga atá bróga!" or" shoes is shoes."
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Feb 12, 2024
Feb 12, 2024 at 7:18 AM UTC
AS SURE AS SHOES IS SHOES
AS SURE AS SHOES IS SHOES out of the interlocking needles a sock grows hanging from its needles the sock a chrysalis Auntie Marge's socks as if a rainbow had grown two feet Auntie Marge's infamous rainbow socks flying off for Christmas Paris..New York...Termonfeckin nieces nephews children grandchildren all wearing rainbow socks the half grown sock tick of a grandfather clock wait for the mourners to return her needles in a cigar tin standing to attention sticking their heads out of the bin some large crochet needles "As sure as shoes is shoes I kept warm the feet of this here family!" clock cuts up Time into little bits so that the humans can understand *** Her grandfather was a cobbler and would always say this whatever the situation. People would always need shoes...although the family of the cobbler often did without as shoes is what put food on the table. But who is wurs shod, than the shoemakers wyfe, With shops full of newe shapen shoes all hir lyfe? [1546 J. Heywood Dialogue of Proverbs i. xi. E1V] All languages have same sounding adages...whatever the profession. Les cordonniers sont les plus mal chaussés. with a first quote by Montaigne : Quand nous veoyons un homme mal chaussé, nous disons que ce n'est pas merveille s'il est chaussetier in In German: Die Kinder des Schusters haben die schlechtesten Schuhe. In Spanish (En casa de herrero, cuchillo de palo "In a blacksmith's home, knives are wooden"). In Chinese "the lady who sells fans fans herself with her hands", In Arabic, "at the potter's house water is served in a broken jug". *** Her grandfather was a cobbler and would always say this whatever the situation. People would always need shoes...although the family of the cobbler often did without as shoes is what put food on the table. "Chomh cinnte is bróga atá bróga!" as she would say in her Irish. Her grandfather would shorten it to" is bróga atá bróga!" or" shoes is shoes."
Continue reading...
47
Im right here waiting with you. She calls and we're both worried sick. Her mom seems to have lost it And she couldn't avoid not being hit. Our blood boils, till our brains no longer think clearly. Until finally we both become wearily. You love her like any best friend should, No it goes beyond that, more like a never ending sisterhood. I hear it your voice the way you care for her. And I try talking and just being here, However she hangs up on me, And I hope shes not sheding tears. But who could avoid it? No crying for someone you love dear. Even I cried for her friend. The one who is not saying a word because she doesnt reprimand. The way her mom is treating her must've torn a hole. Inside her now 16 years of lyfe that she has treated as a toll. She's a beautiful person that doesnt deserve this. And my friend the one that hung up on me, She knows no matter what we do all we can do is wait. For the next day to come along so we can be there and give, A life she deserves surrounded by love. A life that reminds her we need her to live.
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Don't Fight It Alone.
I fantasyse a fodder/ who myght feeed mye goost/ amende it atnyght/ when thee darke nd dreade onlee drenche/ nd drowne my hart in sorowe/ I am lost/ softlye now tale me/ all thee preteee thyngs I wont to heere/ tale me/ you love me/ that I am evrythynge u’ve wonted neer/ that mye prestencts dose not alarm you/ that thes sun is bryght/ yellow/ fool of energee nd lyfe/ that you are proud/ of me/ not ashamed/ of my bryght colers/ tell me you love me
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Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 11:14 PM UTC
Meadnyght Dreems
my life is **** my life is **** b-cos of u i dont understand wot i shud do 1 day ur sweet den wen im hurtin u get discrete wif otha boys flirtin my life is **** i wish i cud die i cant understand Y i dont try u say u love me den reject my touch i wish u cud see da pain iz 2 much my life is **** now go away my life is **** sorry 2 say my life is **** its ur fault girl my life is **** Fallen angelz?
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
My lyfe iz ****
Sometimes I get into this lyfe style. A lyfe style of remorse for feeling bad for myself. A lyfe style of projecting my loneliness on others and trying to title a book titled "The times I've broken my heart". And that's just the start of the story.  It seems I was walking home one day and the oncoming traffic of the overhead displayed a sign that read "You've caught feelings today" my love was expressed through the form of tears. Or "white lies" I guess you could say because my tears are invisible to others and they're lies disguised till this day like the dust bunnies you sweep under a rug. And I know I messed up by talking to you so much. Because that was my first mistake. Getting attached is the quickest way to getting heartbreak. But to me its something more.  You see I'm a mold of clay passed around for the whole elementary class to see. Some people jam their fingers in me and others mold me completely differently until no one can even realize I'm playdough so instead I'm just tossed away. Or an even better one. We'll start with the cliche "I'm a towel put out to dry" but my owner never returned so instead my skin just bleached in the winter and I withered away into a line cloth that eventually floated a stray... Or maybe I was swallowed up by the lies of others who told me I was something more than an eroded piece of ripped line cloth clay. Whatever the matter I'm an endangered endangerment to myself. I'm not suicidal but my thoughts tell me otherwise. Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen you're two bad sides holding each others hands? Singing lullaby's about how you're lyfes demands are mediocre and no were near ideal. You're a joke to the joker and even worse you're a joke to the ones around you who only see your smile.  Because they don't even know who you truly are. Maybe if you put away the childish dreams of falling in love and picked up an adult magazine to hide forever any sort of horseplay that comes along with being alone, and being so weak to love. And maybe that's just it. I'm to weak for love but, I'm to weak to be loved. So maybe my fake strength can offer me an attribute to this loneliness. Or maybe I'll just make a new title and call it "Moving on and moving away" Its just I easily succumb to the idea of love. And it seems everyone around me doesn't feel the same. So I guess I'll just remain here as dried up shriveled line cloth clay.
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
Line Cloth Clay
Sometimes I get into this lyfe style. A lyfe style of remorse for feeling bad for myself. A lyfe style of projecting my loneliness on others and trying to title a book titled "The times I've broken my heart". And that's just the start of the story.  It seems I was walking home one day and the oncoming traffic of the overhead displayed a sign that read "You've caught feelings today" my love was expressed through the form of tears. Or "white lies" I guess you could say because my tears are invisible to others and they're lies disguised till this day like the dust bunnies you sweep under a rug. And I know I messed up by talking to you so much. Because that was my first mistake. Getting attached is the quickest way to getting heartbreak. But to me its something more.  You see I'm a mold of clay passed around for the whole elementary class to see. Some people jam their fingers in me and others mold me completely differently until no one can even realize I'm playdough so instead I'm just tossed away. Or an even better one. We'll start with the cliche "I'm a towel put out to dry" but my owner never returned so instead my skin just bleached in the winter and I withered away into a line cloth that eventually floated a stray... Or maybe I was swallowed up by the lies of others who told me I was something more than an eroded piece of ripped line cloth clay. Whatever the matter I'm an endangered endangerment to myself. I'm not suicidal but my thoughts tell me otherwise. Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen you're two bad sides holding each others hands? Singing lullaby's about how you're lyfes demands are mediocre and no were near ideal. You're a joke to the joker and even worse you're a joke to the ones around you who only see your smile.  Because they don't even know who you truly are. Maybe if you put away the childish dreams of falling in love and picked up an adult magazine to hide forever any sort of horseplay that comes along with being alone, and being so weak to love. And maybe that's just it. I'm to weak for love but, I'm to weak to be loved. So maybe my fake strength can offer me an attribute to this loneliness. Or maybe I'll just make a new title and call it "Moving on and moving away" Its just I easily succumb to the idea of love. And it seems everyone around me doesn't feel the same. So I guess I'll just remain here as dried up shriveled line cloth clay.
Continue reading...
8
O Father What done haveth I in acordaunce The Maiden ress between me eyes Lyke brimstone et a pedestal Dreams are distracted in me lyfe In Marigold, Mahogany, Maroon Venus Trifecta et Holy Grail Et is et discorse ov Destiny ov myne So I asketh of Thyne To wash anew me acordaunce Exceptionly et is in tyme Tho I kno regret may form Et is for the greatr good Imperative deed so tru An may I drown not In red temptations Fore done me fair aims Wyth pursuits ov sound For promises ov gold To replnish retribution Ov souls unheard I am thyr messenger From Alpha to Omega May no fair Maiden Put et in her pocket
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Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
Jon's Lament
Insect carcassi litter the floor but who has time to go out and buy a floor sweep with sturdy wooden handle that doesn't snap while ridding the world of your bug ridden plight
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Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
Bug Lyfe
I can't get you out of my head. And no that's not a means to an end. Its the start of a braceful beginning. Or an irrotational sense of my state of mind which is questionable around this time. 3:52 and I'm still thinking of you. If love is defined as constantly admiring anothers lyfe and worrying about their well being then why can't I call my feeling for you love? Is it because you won't let me? It seems the closer I strive the further I get pushed away. It's like swimming to shore feeling you're almost there only to notice the waves swept you to a perilous trench, Coated in black ink. But no matter how many times I'm swept away by that tidal wave it never discourages me. Because only I see that beautiful weeping mermaid alone on her glistening island of black ink. Just let me wash it off. And together we'll live in your treasure. And darling we might not be pirates But we might be peasants. And I may not bare any sort of sensational fruit. But I bare presents. In the form of my love. The strongest communication I can join your communion of common relation. And together we'll strive for that feeling of common knowledge and shared intentions. Common strife and shared dimensions. Because we may not be peasants for much longer. We've been plungering and sailing this ship of love long enough. That I'm sure we're pirates with greedy ambitions. And tedious repetition of unknown religions. And one day we'll be rich off of this boat we've made from out love. And one day we can stop sailing and settle down. But until that day. Our love is yet to be found. So let's stop waiting around, And set sail.
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Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 5:00 AM UTC
4am
I can't get you out of my head. And no that's not a means to an end. Its the start of a braceful beginning. Or an irrotational sense of my state of mind which is questionable around this time. 3:52 and I'm still thinking of you. If love is defined as constantly admiring anothers lyfe and worrying about their well being then why can't I call my feeling for you love? Is it because you won't let me? It seems the closer I strive the further I get pushed away. It's like swimming to shore feeling you're almost there only to notice the waves swept you to a perilous trench, Coated in black ink. But no matter how many times I'm swept away by that tidal wave it never discourages me. Because only I see that beautiful weeping mermaid alone on her glistening island of black ink. Just let me wash it off. And together we'll live in your treasure. And darling we might not be pirates But we might be peasants. And I may not bare any sort of sensational fruit. But I bare presents. In the form of my love. The strongest communication I can join your communion of common relation. And together we'll strive for that feeling of common knowledge and shared intentions. Common strife and shared dimensions. Because we may not be peasants for much longer. We've been plungering and sailing this ship of love long enough. That I'm sure we're pirates with greedy ambitions. And tedious repetition of unknown religions. And one day we'll be rich off of this boat we've made from out love. And one day we can stop sailing and settle down. But until that day. Our love is yet to be found. So let's stop waiting around, And set sail.
Continue reading...
32
Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain I leave my heart open but it stays right here empty for days She told me in the morning she don't feel the same about us in her bones It seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
THE STORY OF MA LYFE
I never asked for it But you forced it on me I tried living with it But you changed the flow I listened to it But you asked me to make choices instead I cry when it gets too much But you tell me to grow more So I grow... I mature..I dream.. I become happy So why do you change your mind? It’s not yours anymore I made it.. I am me..aint i?
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Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 12:05 PM UTC
Gift LYFE
Absurdity is as throwing a fork at a banana, Giving them nicknames And a narrative and calling the event a Funeral, for every banana that's Never made it out Alive o'cafeteria Sorry I gave mundane- twisted ! a me- O aning B as my a lyfe n ho a lds n nun A Justyn Huang
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
Absurd
See me the way I see you. See me so I know at least something is true. Because I'm tired of the lies. And I'm tired of her eyes. They pierce me and make me want to cry. To drown out my emotion and maybe truly feel nothing. I want to look in the mirror and see, An empty motionless body. Looking at me. I'm already a ghost. Just covered in decaying flesh. I'm melting My limbs are crawling My heart, What heart? You've let me down again. Seems like lyfe hates me, To the bitter end...
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May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
Empty