"mainly" poems
My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.
There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.
My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses
My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.
My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.
My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)
My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.
Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.
There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.
Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.
My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.
One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.
My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs
The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.
My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.
My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.
My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.
My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions
My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.
According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
They say, The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain
But I blame, in vain, the rain for the insane, you see
This plain pain hasn't the same name, nor the same game
For the rain's pain is the same sane as they claim
And since the pain's shame resides mainly in Spain,
Neither the rain nor Spain is to blame for the insane, so now
This sane can claim the uneven plane's plain's the name to blame
But the strife of life is held under the knife of a wife
Where strife runs rife throughout the wife's life
The knife, learning from the fife, plays with the life
While the fife excites life, the knife excites strife
The wife with the knife is at fault, fact or fake?
Is the knife to blame for the strife of the wife's life?
Or the fife for teaching the knife to play with strife?
This just goes to show that no one knows the real rose
For the rose, in it's thorny clothes, just shows the nose
The smell, a pose, so close, tingles the nose till it glows
But the finger, too close, chose to trust the nose's prose
Blame the rose who proposed the show and showed the pose?
Or the nose, whose clothes glowed from the smell of the rose?
The finger couldn't 'ave known the true pose of prose from the rose to the nose.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
Back in the days of old
when knights were bold
who with a sword or lance
in armour sought romance.
It was the age of chivalry
long ago in man’s history
when to fight for a righteous cause
one did gain considerable applause.
It was mainly for show, love and glory
they deemed themselves being worthy
to capture the heart of some fair maiden
which was the most desired prize laden.
Oh, they would strike heavy blows
on all of their opponents and foes
in a one to one combat defying death
as crowds watched with abated breath.
Yes, it was far back in those days of yore
that courage and strength came to the fore
where there was this life and death struggle;
such issues at hand the knights would juggle.
And in fighting for their country, faith and king
noble impressions on people’s minds would ring
that even through the ages are held in high esteem
those knights in shinning armour do now all seem.
There are many legends based on their heroic exploits
a legacy of tales which have been told with much adroit
highlighting aspects of human wisdom related to virtue and vice
and the lessons to be learnt are those of goodness and sacrifice.
History usually repeats itself time and again
as it often happens a situation comes when
we’re asked to do something for a just cause
and acting with chivalry we shouldn’t pause.
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 10:20 AM UTC
My Favorite Pokemon as a kid was always Squirtle,
I always named him Squirter,
Not knowing anything about how ****** it sounded with my 7 year old mind,
I was always in the backseat of the car saying things like, oh no Squirter died,
or yes my squirter learned hydro pump!
and my favorite, I’m gunna give my Squirter one rare candy.
I always caught girl Pokemon,
Mainly because the symbol for the Gender looked unique to me..
So I would never catch Mewtwo because it was never a girl.
Once I learned you can cheat in Pokemon,
I was getting ready for every gym leader like a high schooler preparing for Spanish Test.
Pokemon levels the same number as the grades of the Spanish Test.
As time goes by you can realize pokemon can be like friends, you can’t catch them all, especially when their falling.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
can i tell her tht
she was her.
i wanted
...her...
all of she!
i juss knew
she is
guaranteed.
to be w me..
her... she is
juss so beautifully.
...scrutiny...
eyes, nose, lips
& body... mainly
personality!
she is her
her is she
wow she’s so
carin..lovin
mainly
extraordinary.
i juss want her
to be with me
can i make you my
queen on saturday?
nvm.. i think
she’s has somebody..
sadly i thought
maybe it
was jus an imaginary
but now were friends..
and in the end
can i tell you tht?
she is her.
her is she
... i wanted her to be w me
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
This little man that I know with money in his sockets and routine in his pockets has self proclaimed that he is a tight *** When I envision a *** such as this, I imagine a bundle -- of securely aggregated, perfectly sharpened number two pencils. The businessman just shy of adulthood and too tired to remember –even the beginning of his of disclosure, denied his struggle to acclimate a multifarious lifestyle, appropriately suggested in the form of a triangle, and a circle, both of which embody polar opposing adaptations of humanistic routine.
The two shapes: The circle, denies the break in motion by imposing a constant cycle of diligent compression, there is no room for pause only steady flow and relentless drive. This influence of life impression slows down the heart, body, and soul while speeding up time. This particular commitment accommodates the dry colorless beings that embrace and accept boxed imprisonment.
Traditionally, the triangle denotes rhythmic patterns that elevate and drop to a point in which imposes a healthy reflective pause: progression, reflection, balance. As stated, as a provincial approach, a regular triangle flat on its base, peaking at the top represents a healthy, solid life routine. In contrast, the triangle can be flipped upside-down introducing an entirely new dynamic, composed of flat-lined monotony, tapered off to a regressed realm of destruction, regret and disorder. Despite the uniqueness of the standard triangle model to the man in question, it is important to compare the negative reflection, for it applies to the entirety of this investigation.
We used to be lovers, he and I. We shared my giant pillow-top that I bought on the black market for a meager two-hundred fifty. -- A mere steal at that rate.
We occasionally exchanged ideas, mainly about ethical concerns related to globalization and the environment.
I attempted to give him a cooking lesson once, but that failed, indefinitely. The bust was not my doing, but simply, a great disinterest on his part; or better yet an inability of not being better than me at something.
Everything has gotten so crowded.
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
This is a fictional account, but based
On truth for many women. I was,
Myself, abused by an ex-boyfriend.
---
Here's the ballad of Hammer Hand,
I'm here to spread it 'cross the land.
He loved to hit, as you can see.
What he hit was mainly me.
He was a brawler in the day,
But I left him where he lay.
This is for you gals out there
Who are hopeless, in despair,
Who are battered, made to kneel,
I do this so we both can heal.
I was kicked upside the head,
But now ol' Hammer Hand is *dead.
~~CHORUS~~
Hammer Hand, oh Hammer Hand,
Did beating me make you a man?
I have suffered your attack,
You have made me blue on black,
Your heart was black, my soul was blue,
Your soul was false, my heart was true.*
~~~~~~
Hammer Hand was tall and lean,
He was big, and ha was mean,
He would snack and he would punch,
Then he would demand his lunch.
He used to hit me when he drank,
His breath was fetid, his body rank,
Whenever help I'd try to seek.
He would hit me into next week.
~~~~~~
Hammer Hand is dead today
And this is what I have to say,
I told him when he broke my teeth,
He would pay and come to grief!
*Satan himself will take you down,
And you'll be six feet underground.*
~~ CHORUS ~~
I'm a woman so you're bold,
But Hammer Hand, you're getting old,
Hammer Hand you've had your fun,
But don't forget I have a SON.
You can make me black and blue,
But don't you go and hit him, too!
Don't make him hate you, make him mean,
Soon he will be seventeen.
You said a thing which I believe,
You said you'd **** me if I leave.
But me 'n Jamie gonna pack,
We're gonna leave and not come back.
When I die, at least I know,
Where I'm bound, which way I'll go!
Down inside you know as well,
You are goin' straight to hell.
Hammer Hand, O Hammer Hand,
Now we've left, are you so grand?
You won't hurt us anymore,
'Cause you're dead upon the floor.
I don't think that you'll survive,
Shot with your own 45,
It wasn't me, I'm not that brave...
*T'was Jamie put you in the grave.
At sixteen he was pale and shy
But he put a slug between your eyes.
You made him beg. You made him bow.
Well. I hope you're happy now.*
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) June 11, 2011
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
I want to go back, back to my New Orleans
This place that I call New Orleans is actually Louisiana
But still, the gorgeousness of this dirt and grime
The live oaks stretching over the 6-lane wide streets,
Touching leaftips, making a canopy over the passerbys
Crepe myrtles showering streets with lacy pink faerie dresses
Smells of beignets and seafood fill the French Quarter
Intense, consuming, warm, loving sun burning through your shirt
In New Orleans to say horses sweat, men perspire and women glow
is to be ridiculous.
In New Orleans everyone sweats like pigs.
As for the grime I mentioned, this exists mainly in
the sidewalks cracked by live oaks which make an adventure of every walk down the street
And in any semi-deserted street
To have a Mardi Gras or St. Patrick's Day without a parade and citywide party is to toss aside traditions and the New Orleanian way
The New Orleanians are welcoming, hearty and heartwarming, tough and unafraid to talk to a stranger on the streets.
An old black man once greeted me with 'konichiwa' as I walked past
A middle aged white man once struck up a conversation with us as he realised we had shared the same ferry earlier in the day
An old asian woman conversed familiarly with our family at Cafe Du Monde simply because we are Vietnamese as well
A teenaged white boy waved at us as we drove past him jogging
A different old black man stopped and serenaded my siblings, mother and me with his trumpet just because we smiled
Several young mothers and women have stopped my mother to gush over my siblings and me, usually when we were very small
I, myself, have given directions to a tourist or two, lost near Cafe Du Monde or the levee,
And I hope that the warm smiling spirit of the Big Easy will remain forever immortal.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
*An upscale lounge well known,
For its ambiance and specialty cocktail,
Which includes live entertainment dancers,
On stage, in fine detail.
While a glamorous female stood in front of the bar,
With a deep sea blue martini, in her right hand,
In an ice cold oversized snifter, dipped in sugar upon the rim,
Where she leisurely stands.
With a pink orchid,
And blue twisted glow stick, placed inside her drink,
Taking rhythmical steps,
Side by side, in sync.
Dressed in a strapless dress, slightly above her knee,
Nicely fitted, in shades of purple, green and teal,
Displaying a genuine soft look,
With such great appeal.
When a young man walked in,
And gazed into her seductive dark brown eyes,
Reaching out his hand,
Asking her to dance, as he passed by.
She was absolutely stunning,
With fair complexion, short black hair, a beautiful silhouette,
And a radiant smile, reliving her early days,
An unbelievable night, quite difficult to forget.
She appeared divine,
Upon the dance floor, mainly surrounded by youth,
Dancing salsa throughout the night,
And mixed melodies, near the DJ booth.*
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
If you are single do not stress it, mainly it's because you understand the complexity of the relationship recipe you're a child of destiny and a victim of intuition, morally gifted, respectfully lifted, GPS couldn't follow your mission, eagerly itching; but if they don't cut the standards you know how to dismiss 'em, If they're not sharp enough they have no place in your kitchen; not smart enough they don't deserve a compound sentence PERIOD
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
Dear Lesley,
I'm sorry to have to do this through a letter, but
last time your crying just humiliated
the other couples in your group session.
Although, this might save embarrassment,
and make me look better, now that we are
both sleeping with other people. (If you
can call conjugal visits to your ex-husband people.)
This letter may well be the last memory
you will have of me, if your social worker
lets you keep it as a memento anyway.
I am leaving, and I won't be looking back either.
I am sure you won't be surprised or terribly upset.
It is completely your fault, no doubt about it!
Mainly, it is your long history with lying problems,
even more than your alcoholism, that keeps me
from being even remotely interested in continuing
this relationship with you. (I told you I forgave
you for sleeping with your boss, but I guess I
never really did.)
You would be so much better off finding someone
that can accept the emotional baggage that
you carry around, the ones with the orange tags.
Maybe your analyst can explain that to you better
than I can. I must say, I will miss some of the exciting
times we had together. Like when you got so drunk
and flirted with my father at our family Christmas
dinner. My mom has still not gotten the red wine stain
out of the tablecloth where you puked on it.
I'm glad this is finally done and we can go our
separate ways. I think you will find someone else
with whom to have an unhealthy relationship based
on physical attraction and a passion for strip-club bars.
Hopefully, this will happen incredibly far away.
Good riddance, and Happy New Year.
PS Maybe you should just go back to being a lesbian.
PPS I have no idea where you parked your car.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
on the other-side of a grave wall
there may rightly be a water-vessel
that is chicken-hearted by birth
there may not be around her
a stretching of water-body
do remember
when we all went that day to catch the train
the room of the rail-station was totally vanished
after enquiry it was revealed that
it had gone to observe holidays with its family
in the yolk of the eggs of the snipe
before opening the no-door to take a leap i also knew
that the top-branch of a green and large grasshopper
was mainly made up of white-stones
i did not also have
any mystic words
given by the moon
to recite silently
so without caring for the water
i made a all-complete ocean
with sands and cement
throughout the year
solvency gets down
from the body of the traffic signal
even-then
the monsoon this year
has been under the poverty-line
and the ray of hope is that
it is this circuitous route
leading to the top of the himalaya
that would one day
play the tune of differential calculus
on her guitar
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 6:58 AM UTC
Some win awards.
Some win recognition.
Then some barely recognized for their effort and time.
Some hardly ever late.
Some dedicated more than many bosses.
Who take it upon themselves to take multiple vacation?
The good employee that others measure themselves by.
Rain,sleet or show , you're most likely see them at work.
Some takes pride just in working to accomplish an agenda.
They probably wouldn't strike even, if in a union.
Some has came in present time to regret being a members.
When they don't see any accomplishable gains from their leaders.
Good employees, don't fake an excuse to miss work.
Good employees, know all jobs depends upon a team.
A mission is set to be met.
Those that mainly complains has minor points.
Which soon becomes a distraction in the level of work.
Oh, good employees has complaints too.
In reality, we all do to some degree.
Except, good employees all companies need.
They make the weakest link becomes a member of a strong team.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
Did you know its legal for media to falsify ur news,
Then I ask you what good can this do,
This makes it real hard for people to stand up,
And tell the truth about the corporate corrupt,
They will say its mainly for security,
I don't think so they aren't fooling me,
They love to lead us like a herd of cattle,
Leading us up the creek without a paddle,
So when will all of our voices be heard,
When do we break out of the herd and become a pack,
This would give many a heart attack,
At what time do we stand up and fight for what's right,
If the answer is never there may be no end in sight.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
It has always been said, it what inside that count.
And it's true.
The heart, the mind, can state so much about you.
While others goes with the physical outside.
They mainly insecure to understand many things.
That what others lack?
They make up with inner beauty.
It says a lot.
It really says a lot more.
Who's to say?
Who's the most beautiful person must be?
Just to see their true self come through.
As someone of pretense.
Thinking they are better than others.
To many in existence inner beauty speaks volume.
Always have.
Always will.
It's like the brain.
Knowledge is power.
And wisdom comes through.
When people comprehend that inner beauty says a lot about you.
No one is as cute.
That they can't be ugly inside.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
I seem to disappear
Do you know where I go?
Now, it all seems so clear
You're so fast; I'm so slow.
Take what you need and leave.
Please, please. I beg of you,
My heart hangs on my sleeve
Held together by glue.
You took the best of me,
Then lost the soul inside.
I seem to disappear
Mainly from people like you.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks --
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
5.4k
Oh, many can recall them spanking from the day.
Which probably now, you can laugh at.
Whether from a belt.
From a switch or maybe a paddle.
Oh, they all left an after effect.
Yes, those old school spanking.
Many of us faced as a child.
Mainly because of getting out of line.
Too much mouth or not accepting parental decision.
Some call them beating.
Others just old school spanking.
That got its point across.
Least to some.
Especially when you think back from who it came from?
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
I hate this place
I hate it so much
It makes me want to leave
I hate this place
I hate it so much
I want to sit and cry
I can't leave this place
This is my hell
This is my prison without bars
Sometimes I can grin and bear
And take the daily routine
But mainly I just want to die
And take this place down with me
You know the place of which I speak
It's in your heart too
We all go there sometimes
Maybe a lot, or just a few
I hate it when I'm here
This prison with no walls
This cell that has no boundaries
This cage for my mind
My soul is entrenched
By the constraints of my brain
So I take leave in a rush
And hope that you will too
This place is not long for us
But maybe it'll be good for you.
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
Knock knock, who’s that?
Glance through the peephole
**** I’ve missed you and that’s a fact
Here take my money and my soul
Can I ask you what your name is?
Oh, wow what a lovely name
Tina, I remember our very first kiss
You walked out and I’ve only myself to blame
It feels as if I cannot live without you
That I wouldn’t make it out alive
There’s an explanation that’s due
You keep me alive long enough to survive
My mind has many thoughts but mainly parasites
I can’t control the want because it has now become a need
Between my mind and surroundings I don’t know what the **** is right
I wish you never would have planted that first seed.
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:59 PM UTC
I really never use the word hate
But boy do I hate when people ask me if I’m okay
Mainly because I can never gather the words
To tell them how I really feel. But if
You’re looking for my answer to that question
It goes a little something like this.
“No I’m not okay. I’m breaking into a million
Pieces right in front of everyone and no one notices.
I’m losing weight and it’s not from working out.
My thoughts are creating a hurricane in my brain
And I can not calm the storm.
My heart is a battlefield at war with my mind
And I’m afraid I’m losing this battle.”
But wait there’s more...
“My nose hurts from snorting to many lines of insecurity, my arms are weak from trying to pull myself out of all this self doubt and worry, my wrists are wounded from the cuts I allowed others to make.
My smile has been playing hide and seek for awhile now and I’m still searching for it... by the time I find it I may just be 6 feet under.. which doesn’t sound like
A bad idea... I’m tired. I want to sleep.
I think I’m going to take the rest of this pain medicine
Because this pain is to deep, the wounds won’t heal
And hell im tired of feeling. So I think I want to sleep.
Yeah. That’s what I want to do sleep and be at peace” But instead I’ll smoke this blunt filled
With fake I love yous and it’ll be alrights, to numb the pain for a little while. Instead I’ll drink this whiskey until I’ve drowned out all this feeling. Instead I’ll just say goodnight and sleep to forget about being alive for a little while. But trust me “I’m okay”
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 6:58 AM UTC
thankful for my angels
thankful for my demons
thankful for the battle occurring in my mind.
I'm thankful to have experienced the torture
and the pain.
I'm thankful for the bad and the good
but mainly the terrible.
for if it weren't for the terrible,
I would not be where I am today.
whether that's alive, or a writer.
either way, my heart continues to grow and learn from my past mistakes.
i am a flower,
who's petals are sure to bloom soon.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
I fangirl (too much) over
-cute guys (my god them hormones though >~<) (and mainly kiyuki cx)
-awesome anime/manga
-kawaii fluff
-books
-most stuff XD
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
As I sit and ponder, My mind begins to wander, here are my thoughts:
Mainly at night, as I look at life, "What is it?"
Is destiny just everything between life and death, or are we put in the positions of predicaments for a purpose:
Are poor single mothers and fathers given such a path so they may teach their children to live a lonely life; or,
to show them how to get out of that life?
Convicts, are they truly meant to receive life in prison; or, learn the essence of change, and share that wisdom?
Gangsters and thugs, call them what you will, are they only to have a short life consisting of death and sorrow; or, come out of the grind so they may one day return to help change the places and people of which they came?
Are those with clinical depression meant to remain on a medication for the remainder of their days; or, are they to learn that the deepest of pain allows one to truly appreciate joy?
These are just a few of the things I contemplate as my mind wanders, while I sit and ponder.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:45 PM UTC