"mariah" poems
You remind
Of sweet Tea,
Honey Cheerios on,
Sunday morning.
Laughter
Is
Like
Sunshine
Saying
Hello,
A gentle breeze,
A hot cup of tea,
A lovely song
Makes my day lovely .
By Mariah young
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
beyond Montana’s yellow lines
there is a field
~a field of painted soles
and laces rubber tread
~a field of ****** curls
and fallen headlights
where kaleidoscope lenses
look onto twisted frames like origami halos
where teddy bears hug stop signs like pickets
fringed in anger
runaway childhoods sleep cautionary tales
beyond Montana’s blushing acne
there are red cup melodies
blasting from blacked out tints
weaving blues notes through Rock & Rap
distant cries are drowned by Bass
or maybe Bud (light)
a haze of teenage eyes
they might as well be ghost riders
whip game copped from GTA
these pubescents are a Vice to their City
blooming sidewalk sloths
like flowerbeds
beyond Montana
is a country of bar stools
where bar tenders play therapists
and therapists play coroners
precedents are shots of whiskey - taken to the head
and reflected in flooded eyes
beyond Montana
is a country of MADD mothers and SADD students
beyond Montana
is a country of unexpecting pedestrians
beyond Montana
is a field
~a field of wing-clipped snow angels
That field is Mariah's home now
and she challenges you to change
yourself
your friends
your country
she challenges you to
STOP DRUNK DRIVING
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Cheer up Girly
your too happy to be sad
You could brighten
even the darkest day
Don't you cry
Keep your chin up
I know this place *****
and its draining at times
Hell I've been there
I know that look
You want to give up
But hey dont you dare
Just think
Its pay day!!!
its friday
weekends almost here
jsut relax at home
and forget this place
And when monday comes around
I'll be here to make you laugh
:-D :-D :-D
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
.*if, and however many mistakes i made in typo... attempting to compete with Spawn, using the black panther... ****** please... it's like that "healthy" competition of butter, using margarine... Black Panther isn't Spawn... Spawn is... Spawn... yeah... thanks for ruining my 12" wish fetish... i was so dying... to... i was never going to **** an English girl to begin with... thank god.*
you're seriously going
to "correct" me
using black panther....
seriously?
spawn was the ********
to what....
to whatever you're
doing these days....
i don't want to be
the blank panther...
**** being black panther...
************
i want to be *spawn"..
******* quasi-nigger...
john coltrane...
you a mariah carey
back-up singer or some
otherwise alien whacky
alien-backlog?
compared to spawn...
the black panther
looks like a ******* ******
wing guy...
for what's deemed
12"...
black...
mire like bleak Parthenon...
some columns,
no spirals...
waste of time...
black Panther, what?
so Spawn...
was just a waste of time?
Spawn was the gran-daddy
where the Batman was the daddy
given the Joker
was the gran-gran-daddy...
you get me?
Miles Davis too much for you?
the blank panther is such
a ***** move...
it's like... come Kosovo...
when expecting Sarajevo...
****** this **** will not
stick...
high flying ****
if you think this will become
a ******* pancake...
no, ******
take your blank panther back
to Yakanda, or whatever...
your Spawn was cooler than
Lego Batman...
**** your white *****
and leave me to my existentialism
of... making a "heroic" exit..
akin to Elvis...
but more or less minding
Roy Orbison in a sing along.
p.s.
lego batman movie quote:
black panther *****
spawn go go go! spammy!
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
The Billboard Music Awards took over Las Vegas last night as the celebs rocked it on the carpet and on the stage. However, there were more than a few music stars who just missed the mark when it came to the fashion.
From the barely there gowns to the colorful messes that caught everyone’s eye, and not in a good way.
The Billboard Music Awards fashion is usually something to praise, however this year things took a turn for worse. These lucky celebrities top our list of biggest fashion fails from the billboard music awards.
Mariah Carey chose to show it off in a cleavage baring illusion dress.
Hailee Steinfeld’s embraced her girly side in a black and white ruffle number.
The whole Fifth Harmony clan completely failed in their black, white and yellow matching outfits.
Britney Spears covered it all up in an ill-fitting, long, sparkly gown.
And Dencia’s outfit was a messy rainbow that had everyone staring.
It seems like some of the stars got dressed in the dark or just completely forgot to look in the mirror before stepping out on the red carpet.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
I'm sick.
No, not meaning 'dope', or 'awesome'.
Like, 'hey! Let's shoot Mariah in the face cause this
Sinus infection is killing her!'
My only friends right now?
My dog.
Maury.
Chapstick.
and
Jell-O.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
My head against your chest
I love the sound of your heart
Those soft thumps going
Thump,thump
Thump, thump thump
It's music to my ears
I feel calm
when I hear
Your heartbeat
under my ear .
Mariah j. Young
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
She ran a boarding house in Boston,
But they used her size to terrorize men
And lead them to the lock-holes.
Or was she a lady clad in black ruffles,
Presented to the Queen in 1844?
Perhaps she was a racehorse
Foaled in Harlem and won a prize.
She had peddled drugs and run a gang
In the chaos of Civil War,
Black Mariah escaped from the darkness
Of Edison’s studio to roam the world,
But in it found herself re-imagined.
They named police wagons after her
It’s said, but no one knows the truth.
Did she cross the battle lines again,
To tread on civil rights?
Or swing the batons in Chicago
And fire rifles at Kent State?
She seems to take time out to charm
Gruff-voiced men who sing her praise.
She prowled the streets of Brixton,
In 1983, with truncheons at her side.
Through gas clouds, dragging men to jail.
Black Mariah is with us still,
Helping to create tyrants and traitors,
To stop the mouths of those who defy
She’s an accessory to the killing.
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 7:09 PM UTC
The black mariah takes four to a side and it jostles my spine
The window is small so no light can force through so no one looking
In can look in and see you.
Got picked up again on bogus construction.
Going down to the castle for chaos and ruction.
Just cant seem to waylay my certain destruction.
So bad boy. Bad boy wacha gona do.
Wacha gonna do when they come for you.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 12:51 AM UTC
The next time you wander through
the Forest,
give attention to
what makes it live.
From towering oak trunk to timid
wisps of grasses,
Wind
blows through.
Though rampant branches jut
in chaotic cacophony,
wind calms the fray:
harmonic, swaying, symphony.
To refer to Wind by her name
seems almost unfitting.
Product of the sun itself,
impossible to be un-felt,
Wind pervades.
She's a comforting breeze on a calm day,
who soothes whatever goes wrong,
forever on the mind when she's gone.
Perhaps Wind could be better called
by a name that captures all
her beautiful, ceaseless soul,
twisting through life.
My Love,
they should call the wind
Mariah
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
She’s swinging from a different home plate
Our dictionaries don’t have enough words for her
She needs more
But not from here
Cause she’s not from here
She’s from everywhere we’re not
And when she writes
We are well aware of it
She spears me through the heart with her lines
But the last word never fails to politely cauterize
So her poetry leaves a mark
Fascia tattoos from Planet M
Messages sinking deeper in
Underneath everything human
Into the soul’s skin
That’s the reach of her pen
(Down below the circus of our understanding)
She lives down there, and sends postcards up
In the form of poetry
Dear so and so,
“there is a hole in your belly.
this is where those precious things fall that you drop”
Dear Mariah,
I know, I know
But I can’t seem to keep my hands dry
Knowing she will just sigh
And keep writing her poetry post cards
Postmarked “upstairs”
As the circus bustles and bangs above
I am sure she takes breaks
And comes up
For cotton candy
(blue/orange - yellow/purple)
of course
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
The night is soft like cashmere
and dotted with glinting demigods --
all of them knowing
that it is you I think of.
The moon is taking her leave tonight,
so the stars are my confidants.
Beyond the consoling whispers
of the Sycamore and Birch,
aside from the embrace
of Mariah's fair arms,
I can hear them --
the voices of those night-sky nymphs
and know they can see your face.
So I ****** out my song to them
knowing they will sing you my words...
wherever you are.
The miles between us know not our feet,
the frothy gates of Triton's realm
do not know our names...
but the sky sees our aspirations,
knows our stories...
the stars sing the songs of each mortal life.
Now I ask them
to carry you my longings
and I hear my melody
echo among them as they sing it into your dreams.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
Dear Mariah,
Who are you? I don't know.
All I know are your words.
Your words with out capitals,
because they don't need to be constrained my things like grammar,
rules.
Your words without rhymes,
because they pain a picture on their own, just letters,
emotions.
Your words are just letters,
but together they are something more, something incredible-
consciousness.
Your words are something unique, something never before seen,
Your words are hope,
Pain,
Confusion,
Wonder.
Dear Mariah,
Treasure your words.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
Beyond the piles of fractured rocks
And the dunes that echo empty
Lies no more songs of the wind
Or any fruits of pleanty
The sky it darkens so much so
That the nocturnes all come out
But not a star nor moon is there
Just black fog seeping out
The trees are withered well and good
From poison tears that fall
The creatures move - mirages
Of what they were before it all
No more ocean and no more skies
When plastic people pester please
The forges of nature overrun
With men of metal and guys of greed
- Anisah Mariah
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 1:15 PM UTC
I.
The day will soon come
when your children discover
that you are Santa.
II.
After Christmas Eve
no-one really wants to hear
Mariah Carey.
III.
Christmas is about
gifts and time with family
and then Doctor Who.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
The worst sight I can see is a blank page;
the white sheet void of any substance but unspoken words,
because these words seem to drown me
and poison my lips with an itch
that echoes through my fingertips.
There's no space to hear
and there's no sounds to see,
and yet this is when everything fits.
It's like a driving force, an ache, and a pain.
Its hurts and stabs and wails to be satisfied,
but when it is it smiles and swims and flies.
It moves with the rhythm of my heart,
it doesn't fill the space but how can it fill itself.
Despite the melancholy feeling it can leave me with,
there's something quite therapeutic in
the swish and sprint of the pen as it glides past.
A whirlwind of calamities.
But good calamities.
I pick up the pen.
I am breathing and suffocating all at once
and its like opening your eyes for the first time.
A whoosh of self-confidence injects itself into my veins
and seeps through my scalp.
There's no other point in time,
except for when the letters sing,
that I feel so true,
and so wholly me.
It is in this moment that my head
is sitting on a roundabout
and laying on the grass underneath a willow tree.
What is that life that explodes onto the trees beneath my hands?
Its a vibrant detonation of every colour imaginable,
every thought thinkable,
and every life liveable.
Nothing and everything is written.
The pen slips from my grasp.
Its spell is over.
Now, I feel alone.
-Anisah Mariah
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
I.
Some may call it an excuse.
I believe it’s a gift.
Thoughts have no end,
A story pours out
About coincidentally
Finding a penny
With his birth year
To how he has the same
Birthday
As Mariah Carey
To End with a passionate debate on
Who is better?
Mariah or Ariana.
With my original question being,
“Where are you?”
Not a mental disorder but,
A diverse perspective of the world.
He Illustrated
II.
“ADHD is like
I’m watching TV when
I remember I was going to make a hot pocket
So I put my hot pocket in the microwave
Go back to watch TV when
I get a message asking me about my day.
Beep
Oh my hot pocket!
Shoot, I have to do laundry.
Okay But I have to turn the TV off.
My day?
-It was all right, yours?
Dam it! Where’s the remote?
Aw, my hot pocket is cold now.
Forget it-”
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 7:07 AM UTC
A million things to do and
2 millions ways to procrastinate.
All the while I miss you,
And you know I’m always late.
Mariah says I’ve gotta shake you off,
Paul of “Yesterday”, I’m sold.
You’re the light and I’m the moth,
But I don’t feel warm, I’m cold.
And tomorrow approaches, it lunges to the dawn,
The chariot comes forth,
tethered to the morning star,
My heart’s broken but the steadfast dew is on the lawn,
And my soul wonders at where I’ve been and where I am.
I want to take pictures of the people driving past,
I’m unsure of how they are or what they dream,
But their faces are each so different, and I want them to last,
I want to remember that everything is not what it seems.
Off on another tangent I go,
Can anyone keep up?
I’m circling and circling slow,
And what I have is not enough.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 7:28 PM UTC
Black Mariah
like a storm from out of the Kansas dust
she blinded my eyes to the truth
no one scared me so as she took me higher
how could I not know she was a liar
she picked my pocket so completely clean
just as she picked my heart so completely *****
her long black hair down her back and dark eyes
her lips on mine my heart's whispering crys
her magical spell cast all over me
everything I see is just an illusion
the touch becoming increasingly cold
her advances into my mind increasingly bold
that I wanted needed more of her was true
I could not break the chains of lust
the pounding inside my head tempo off beat
the pounding of my heart faster in retreat
get away from this ghostly figure was the cry
or she will bring you down below the earth
if I awaken will I remember will I still know
this Black Mariah she scares me so
Gomer LePoet ....
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
second-rate skies standing solitary
frozen in their own mediocracy
conforming to the wills of majority
because I'm bored out of my mind
fingers tracing the swirls on the ceiling
feels like gravity herself is competing
and all I'm doing is moving, listless
I guess I'm out of time
so maybe I'm a little distracted
like particles of light are refracted
perhaps just a little compacted
from the cages you call fine
living without joy is no policy
so they make it out of complacency
questioning the laws of morality
and answers by design
but I'm reading all the words that aren't written
and suddenly I'm willing to listen
the stardust we're made of will glissten
because freedom I will find.
- Anisah Mariah
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 12:50 PM UTC
Me: Kelly likes you
Him: I wont date her because i like someone else.
Me: Whhhhooooooo
Him: a person in our class
Me: Well if it's not Kelly * unless you like men * hmmmmm Mariah?
Him: no.
Me: Me?
Him: yup
Me: I convinced myself that people cannot like me
Him: you lied to yourself
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
Millions and billions
Of smiles passed
Everyday
A twitch of the lips
A giggle
And a laugh
Why is it that
Even though the sun
Is full
My chest is still empty
My heart fallen
My stomach is full
-By Anisah Mariah
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC
Beyond these thick and earthy browns
Past the muted greens and river dams
Lies the skin forewarn of many few
Holds the chatter far past due.
Here they lay in beds of tears
Made from the anguish of their peers
Not one heart, the beats are mere
How can they breathe when no-one can hear.
Incantations spoken, memories cried
Why do they act like someone has died?
No-one has passed, No-one is dead
She must have a poor, false, clouded head.
If we are the people that live when we die
How can we live if we all survive?
How can we speak when our enemies fall?
When the truth is unveiled, salvage us all.
To win and to victor are two different things.
Whats winning when winners live through the slings?
Whats being a victor when victors always fall?
It's a concept when enemies are made of us all.
Every body buried is another body burned.
Every body buried is a lesson not learnt.
A lesson taught from the beginings of time
And a lesson ignored past the world's decline.
Don't shrug your shoulders, don't join in the cheer
These people they murdered, slaughtered and feared.
They ruined the lives of innocent new
Innocent old and the revered few.
Spilling blood in revenge or prevention of cause
Still stains your hands with that guilty remorse.
So don't be fooled by the excuses they make
Slaughter is laughter with and S and a take.
-By Anisah Mariah
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Those who adhere to the sturborness
Of those little hurtful words
Will be blinded by their ignorance
And by hatered of their cause
Those who scream hallalugieh
as the tears escape their eyes
like the water flowing down their cheeks
is the evidence of life
they’ve proven guilty of those deeds
and now they wash away
how dare those few who look and laugh
then come and expect to play
They cannot play their games with us
Then play our games with them
How dare they insult the broken pride
And live without it again.
Call me a thread about to break
But I know I am unlike it see
I am not what you call
An oppertunity
I am not as fragile as the glass that smashes on the floor. I am not as fragile as the waves that crash upon the shore. I am not as breakable as you who cries when I ignore. I am not mine nor yours nor his nor hers. I am simply on the floor. But that’s not the thing that you should be scared of. Its when I rise from fall. I will scream and shout and laugh and cry. From my lungs fury high. And some fury more. The passion dance will ignite and explode upon the core.
I will not be below your feet.
I am not inferior.
I am whoever, watever, whenever.
So let me steer my own course.
-By Anisah Mariah
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC