"mee" poems
Sorry - login failed....
OK...easy - of course it's me;
I’m authentic, not me pretending to be me
or someone else pretending to be me
or me pretending to be Swine Poet;
no, it’s not
Swim Goggles masquerading as Noodles Mee;
or Pretty Pig pretending to be Ugly Duckling;
so let’s try again – it’s easy…sure, I know my password….
OK….
Sorry – login failed….
OK…
it’s easy....I’ll give you my username
and here’s password…Enter…here we go…
Sorry – login failed….
Hey! You’re joking with me, right?
you know it’s me, and you’re just kidding, right?
What?
If at first you don’t succeed – try, try again…
OK, OK…let’s go again….
Sorry – login failed….
Hey, man – or woman, this is serious…
Oh I see – my thick fingers
might have landed on 9 instead of 8
and on g instead of f –
you see? It’s me….I’ll try and use my most slender fingers
and avoid my thick fingers…
Knock and the door shall be opened…
OK…here we go…username…hmmmmm….easy now….
slender fingers, remember….OK….password….careful now….
use slender fingers only….Enter! Yipppppeeeeee!
Sorry - login failed....
Hey- it appears I’m thick-headed as well!
Come on – give me a chance!
It’s almost like being denied at Heaven’s doors!
I’m having an identity crisis here, baby!
You want to see me have a breakdown and
send me to a madhouse, or what?
All right, all right…cool down…easy….easy…calm…
Take a deep breath….
Username…OK….slender fingers, now…eyes on keyboard…
…Password….slender fingers, remember….eyes on keyboard….
Now, all good….I think….Want to say a prayer?
Come on – it’s not that serious….Alright….ENTER!
Yes – I’m in! Hey guys – here I am!
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 1:29 AM UTC
Come! Supper is ready
Come! Boys and girls now,
For her is fresh milk
From the good molly cow.
Have done with your fife
And your row de dow dow,
And taste this sweet milk
From the good Molly cow
Whoever is fretting
Must clear up his brow,
Or he'll have no milk
From the good molly cow
And here is Miss *****
She means by mee ow,
Give me too some milk
From the good Molly cow
When children are hungry,
Oh who can tell how
They love the fresh milk
From the good Molly cow
So when you meet Molly
Please say, with a bow,
"Thank you for your milk,
Mrs.good Molly cow."
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Hwenne, och! slawlie IT, an’ unco Licht!
Afoyr th' wounded frae Lyife Ghaist-Ancestors,
At Calanais Stane Sirkill Auld, an’ Verra IT, Micht!
Wae th' Lost ay! o'er Deep Tyme Unforgivin’,
Hidden Bleezan ay, Sacrificial Rite at Myrk Nicht!
Th' Stowed Oot Moon Conquerin’ rayses IT, tae mee!
Amydde Thae Verra Bluish, cannae nowe ye a' see?
Cauld Cluds ay flashin', an' Verra Thay A' Hye!
Ainlie, ainlie Raw Rid Bridie sloch Ah!
NVNC RVBRA CLARO FVLMINE REFVLGENS LVNA
QVIA REDACTA EST AD FVLGOREM RES RVBRA
TOTALITER INTRA SACRVM CIRCVLVS VICTRIX MIHI
VBI REX INVICTVS AC MAXIME VLTOR OVERMAN
RVBRO LAPIDI CVM MAGNO NECNON PHANTASMATE
ALTA HIC FLAMMA POTENTER ADVENIT RVBRA.
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 5:11 AM UTC
I
On a little piece of wood,
Mr. Spikky Sparrow stood;
Mrs. Sparrow sate close by,
A-making of an insect pie,
For her little children five,
In the nest and all alive,
Singing with a cheerful smile
To amuse them all the while,
Twikky wikky wikky wee,
Wikky bikky twikky tee,
Spikky bikky bee!
II
Mrs. Spikky Sparrow said,
'Spikky, Darling! in my head
'Many thoughts of trouble come,
'Like to flies upon a plum!
'All last night, among the trees,
'I heard you cough, I heard you sneeze;
'And, thought I, it's come to that
'Because he does not wear a hat!
'Chippy wippy sikky tee!
'Bikky wikky tikky mee!
'Spikky chippy wee!
III
'Not that you are growing old,
'But the nights are growing cold.
'No one stays out all night long
'Without a hat: I'm sure it's wrong!'
Mr. Spikky said 'How kind,
'Dear! you are, to speak your mind!
'All your life I wish you luck!
'You are! you are! a lovely duck!
'Witchy witchy witchy wee!
'Twitchy witchy witchy bee!
Tikky tikky tee!
IV
'I was also sad, and thinking,
'When one day I saw you winking,
'And I heard you sniffle-snuffle,
'And I saw your feathers ruffle;
'To myself I sadly said,
'She's neuralgia in her head!
'That dear head has nothing on it!
'Ought she not to wear a bonnet?
'Witchy kitchy kitchy wee?
'Spikky wikky mikky bee?
'Chippy wippy chee?
V
'Let us both fly up to town!
'There I'll buy you such a gown!
'Which, completely in the fashion,
'You shall tie a sky-blue sash on.
'And a pair of slippers neat,
'To fit your darling little feet,
'So that you will look and feel,
'Quite galloobious and genteel!
'Jikky wikky bikky see,
'Chicky bikky wikky bee,
'Twikky witchy wee!'
VI
So they both to London went,
Alighting on the Monument,
Whence they flew down swiftly--pop,
Into Moses' wholesale shop;
There they bought a hat and bonnet,
And a gown with spots upon it,
A satin sash of Cloxam blue,
And a pair of slippers too.
Zikky wikky mikky bee,
Witchy witchy mitchy kee,
Sikky tikky wee.
VII
Then when so completely drest,
Back they flew and reached their nest.
Their children cried, 'O Ma and Pa!
'How truly beautiful you are!'
Said they, 'We trust that cold or pain
'We shall never feel again!
'While, perched on tree, or house, or steeple,
'We now shall look like other people.
'Witchy witchy witchy wee,
'Twikky mikky bikky bee,
Zikky sikky tee.'
3.5k
I never stoop’d so low, as they
Which on an eye, cheeke, lip, can prey,
Seldom to them, which soare no higher
Than vertue or the minde to’admire,
For sense, and understanding may
Know, what gives fuell to their fire:
My love, though silly, is more brave,
For may I misse, when ere I crave,
If I know yet, what I would have.
If that be simply perfectest
Which can by no way be exprest
But Negatives, my love is so.
To All, which all love, I say no.
If any who deciphers best,
What we know not, our selves, can know,
Let him teach mee that nothing; This
As yet my ease, and comfort is,
Though I speed not, I cannot misse.
2.6k
Cerebral woman,,,,,,,,,,, 'I'm a judge jail Mee
she's a technicoloured melodrama
fringed in pink
a loony tune character
penned in indian ink,
she's positive and poignant
blessed with perfect poise
my snake wrangling lady-
she's one o' the boys.
she's a synaptical **** siren
and rather refined
a whoreatical kinda woman;
that ***** with my mind,
she's passionate and pendulous
immersed in deep thought
my minds mary's monster
my cerebral - consort,
alan nettleton.
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 10:28 PM UTC
Taking place where you calumniate
with hidden mask behind interface
An embolism hidden behind your lines
Where a falsetto lies your charm
How you create isobaric pressure degradation between your monodical screaming mee-mee's
Creator of sheol , abode of the dead poets
So supine in way and thought
Where will your Valhalla be
You valetudinarian
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Caluminate - to utter maliciously false statements .
Interface - a shared boundary across
embolism - a swelling of a blood vessel due to blockage
isobaric pressure degradation - lines drawn on a weather map marking increasing or decreasing air pressure
Sheol - the place of the dead
supine - failure to act due to moral weakness
Valhalla - Norse hall of God's where slain hero's are received
valetudinarian - one who shows unduly concern for their health
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
want my fyn porselein is nou skerwe op die vloer
als wat goed is in die lewe;
saam met die suur melk uitgemoer
al my heuningtee en moerkoffie staan nietig in my kas
, ek hunker na n glasie brandewyn
om die herrinneringe mee weg te was.
Want Vader al val 'n duisend aan my sy
en tien duisend hier langs my
vlieg Eros se pyle net die heeltyd verby.
Ek is moeg vir alleen wees
moeg vir bang wees
vir koue voete
koue hande en
'n hart wat altyd koud sal wees.
waars die liefde en genade
waarvan ons in ******
en die Bybel lees.
Waars my stukkie hemel.
Waars my engelkoor.
Is dit ook tussen my suur melk...
of het ek dit deur bottervingers verloor?
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Teen die hange van die berge-nag
Speel die donker op die ligte sag
Die kalm daal op die chaos-stad
Van klank en mense op elke kronkel pad
Dit voer jou mee in 'n sterre mat
In skoon lug met 'n oop kop
Kan gedagtes net vloei en skrop
Aan dinge wat is en kom
Aan mens wees, goed en krom
Aan die eenvoud en dit wat verstom
Woorde lê in 'n niks-wees dwaal
Dis rou, dit is maar net - dis kaal
Net om die stemme wat skree te verlos
Dinge wat 'n uitlaat soek in die kosmos
Dit het ink gevind, soos vuur in fynbos
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
mee lords! let thy
speak a little phase!
thy shadow of mee
dreams.?
my little rose love of
life.mee lady
at castle steel one
evening.
a ghostly person
she be .
i love her but then
you see.
she a ghost of castle steel
she was mee friend,
mee love of life.
when she was liveing.
she call out the window
one evening on moon lite
night . my dear lord
elliot where thy be
mee lovely friend.
by the meadow
stream water of of life.
and then a little bird
flying around
came down from sky
that night.
bite my love.
on her hand.
so i said over here
my love .
by the garden
by our tree .
what is love mee lords
i'll be in the castle steel
because mee lady spirit.
live in these wall at castle steel.
these is true story of us.
we are children of forest
an castle that live once upon
a time in story.
mee sweet love mee little
rose flower of life that she be
mee lady julie .
a flower of my heart.
the sunrise an sunset
of my day. she the spring
water of my life.
my love of life
my soul my heart
thy true friend i had
400 hundred years ago
she was wonderful
person. my julie
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
Being The Shortest Day
’Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th’ hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar’d with mee, who am their Epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin’d mee, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darknesse, death—things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that’s good,
Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that’s nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and so
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaosses, when we did show
Care to ought else; and often absences
Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death—which word wrongs her—
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this
Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.
1.8k
Tell me no more how fair she is,
I have no minde to hear
The story of that distant bliss
I never shall come near:
By sad experience I have found
That her perfection is my wound.
And tell me not how fond I am
To tempt a daring Fate,
From whence no triumph ever came,
But to repent too late:
There is some hope ere long I may
In silence dote my self away.
I ask no pity (Love) from thee,
Nor will thy justice blame,
So that thou wilt not envy mee
The glory of my flame:
Which crowns my heart when ere it dyes,
I that it falls her sacrifice.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
U no, eat sins two mee,
u guise knead
two loose wait
sew hear, aye woosh
two
offal ewe sum add vice
Ewe can star art
**** ditto menation
aunt u knead too exorcise
Moove eat, keep mooving
moove mulch; doe nut ****
down two mulch, move you’re *****
inn smell poorshuns
Ant walk two da shups
in stayed off you sing da carr
Dee impotent ding
hiss da wheel
four wear they’re’s
a wheel, they’re’s all weighs
a weigh
goad lick
loose wait
anne stain hell tea
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other Spheares, by being growne
Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:
Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit
For their first mover, and are whirld by it.
Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West
This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.
There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,
And by that setting endlesse day beget;
But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,
Sinne had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for mee.
What a death were it then to see God dye?
It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,
It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.
Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,
And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes?
Could I behold that endlesse height which is
Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is
The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,
Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,
Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus
Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They'are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,
O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;
I turne my backe to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,
Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.
1.8k
Anatomy
An-at-oh-mee
Will you make a friend with me?
Curves and hairs
And you-know-wheres
Lips and tips
Of fingers
Linger
Kisses from misses
And dangers from strangers
What clothes can hide
Familial and not
Familiar and never-known
Embraces
Bright faces
And moods to go along
Anatomy
Anatomy
Great, beautiful anatomy
Sculpted in clay
Finer than diamonds
When life is up,
To the ground with thee,
Anatomy
From dust
To dust
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 10:49 PM UTC
me no spit English, me no no Englis, OK?
me barbarrrian, why u one me speak Englis?
u teach me inglish then u want me slave, ya?
u teach me englis and mik mee go from nuture,
from da trees and de lakes and hum of me ancesdors, ya?
and you teach me englis
glive me your stinkin additudes
mik me pollute wold and **** wold like you, yes?
I del u, me spit no englis but sdill u offer skolarsips
and mik me shange name, and then tick on Englis name, ya?
then peeple call me englis name like tom, ***** hairy
or my wife become susan or margate
and me become kristian, yeah?
why I say no englis still u want to tich me englsi
and give me book and mi say, mi say,
luk at my nikid bady laik da die I was born
liiiv me one
don't tiich me englis
or wan day I will kurs and swera in inglis
like who, who, who, like that monster I hard play story
is he nime Caliban, yeah?
me barbarrbaian, dun't mike i civilized like u;
me no no inglis;
me happi with me lunguge and me hum
and my trees and likes and annncesdral places¦
I no wants to spit engilsi and khanges my name and culturte!
and un I no wan to go fom humen!
leave me lone wan, I say! me no spit englis!
or I put u in *** if you no go!
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 3:06 AM UTC
*keer op keer
telkens weer
vlak voor zonsopgang
hoevaak nog wakker te worden
met een steen in mijn buik
hoevaak nog betraande ogen te openen
in het holst van de nacht
in de stilte na de storm
als een zwarte koude wind
je neemt me steeds weer
eventjes
mee
naar een plek waar ik niet wil zijn
nee
het is er niet fijn
het doet pijn
keer op keer
een geschaden vertrouwen
wanneer laat je me met rust
dit is wat het doet met een vrouw
jij, geschaden vertrouwen
ik wantrouw jou*
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
Emptying ashes into a bottle cap
Figured in corner eyes
Anxietying into a heart attack
See-saw
Makes sense
Hee-haw
Laughing fence
Mee-maw
Six cents
Chakra
Too tense
Ta-ta
Hence, immense expense condense whence intense dispense defense thence commence pretense.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
To God our strength sing loud, and clear,
Sing loud to God our King,
To Jacobs God, that all may hear
Loud acclamations ring.
Prepare a Hymn, prepare a Song
The Timbrel hither bring
The cheerfull Psaltry bring along
And Harp with pleasant string.
Blow, as is wont, in the new Moon
With Trumpets lofty sound,
Th’appointed time, the day wheron
Our solemn Feast comes round.
This was a Statute giv’n of old
For Israel to observe
A Law of Jacobs God, to hold
From whence they might not swerve.
This he a Testimony ordain’d
In Joseph, not to change,
When as he pass’d through Aegypt land;
The Tongue I heard, was strange.
From burden, and from slavish toyle
I set his shoulder free;
His hands from pots, and mirie soyle
Deliver’d were by me.
When trouble did thee sore assaile,
On me then didst thou call,
And I to free thee did not faile,
And led thee out of thrall.
I answer’d thee in *thunder deep *Be Sether ragnam.
With clouds encompass’d round;
I tri’d thee at the water steep
Of Meriba renown’d.
Hear O my people, heark’n well,
I testifie to thee
Thou antient flock of Israel,
If thou wilt list to mee,
Through out the land of thy abode
No alien God shall be
Nor shalt thou to a forein God
In honour bend thy knee.
I am the Lord thy God which brought
Thee out of Aegypt land
Ask large enough, and I, besought,
Will grant thy full demand.
And yet my people would not hear,
Nor hearken to my voice;
And Israel whom I lov’d so dear
Mislik’d me for his choice.
Then did I leave them to their will
And to their wandring mind;
Their own conceits they follow’d still
Their own devises blind
O that my people would be wise
To serve me all their daies,
And O that Israel would advise
To walk my righteous waies.
Then would I soon bring down their foes
That now so proudly rise,
And turn my hand against all those
That are their enemies.
Who hate the Lord should then be fain
To bow to him and bend,
But they, His should remain,
Their time should have no end.
And he would free them from the shock
With flower of finest wheat,
And satisfie them from the rock
With Honey for their Meat.
1.5k
Can you see it like I can,
a boasting child,
a boating child,
an accident
she drowned.
Down,
the bubbles escape,
race like red toy cars
as blood blossoms out ears,
and pressure builds,
and fingers reach upwards
pop
where small fingers are glassed with soapy water
and white and blue frosting.
scribbled over red lettering, "Happy Birthday Meredith."
And cards were presented with pasts and futures,
torn open like a shark attack
and ripping skin,
flapping back like dog ears, as he sticks his head out the window
and howls at the neighbors
for their loud music ways.
Silent crashing waves,
that boom death metal
and ride tidal curls
that bounce off her head.
As she writhes,
a red ribbon in her hair.
Hair of spun gold
like the sun
smothered by the moon.
Darkness eclipses.
And the last of the air is pushed
through her lungs
for light has drifted away,
torn like a suckling pig from its ****
and she is lost.
As her body floats away, pulled down.
Unclasped, she roams free.
groans, "Meeeee. Find mee...eeeee."
And eels slither from her jaw,
agape and brackish blue,
like pirate ship wine
sunken *** and treasure troves,
and streamline red.
Adding to a salty complexity
of tarnished speckled metal
like speckled eggs.
And brown eyes
bore out by hermit *****
that broke their shells after a gluttonous feast.
Unbuttoning her dress
a flower paisley sort of thing,
a useless scrap of sodden material,
for nothing matters,
as she thinks nothing can hold on to her
now and before.
She is aware,
but not really there, because you would miss her
like you did when she stood in the hall,
your eyes passed over,
and so stayed her silent screams.
So she left our world,
or rather hovered and watched
as much as she could without eyes.
She watched you,
and felt nothing over your cries
because she feels nothing
Now.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
*WHERE I GO FROM THIS SHORE..
WHERE I HAVE REACHED
FROM THAT SHORE..
YESTERDAY
THOSE WHO BROUGHT ME
HERE IN THE BOAT OF LOVE ..
TODAY IT DISAPPEARED IN THE FOGG. .
THE DISTANCE OF TWO SHORES
TRYING TO MAKE US SEPARATE
FROM EACH OTHER. ..
WITH THIS NOW
YOU ARE VERY FAR AWAY FROM ME.
EVEN THOUGH
I KNOW THAT
YOU ARE VERY CLOSE TO ME
.LIKE A HEART AND THROB. .
MADE for EACH OTHER. .
TODAY I AM LYING HERE
WITH YOUR THOUGHTS...
TOO MUCH HURT
TOO MUCH LOSING. ...
.YOUR MEMORIES
KILLING ME SOFTLY
AND I AM NOT RESISTING FROM IT.
.I AM STILL ALONE HERE
WAITING FOR YOU
INTO THIS SHORE OF DARKNESS SCREAMING ALOUD. ..
BUT NO ONE IS HERE TO HEARD MEE..
.I AM DROWNING
HERE IN THE SHORE...
NO ONE WILL COME TO SAVE ME
TO PULL ME..
FROM YOUR MEMORIES. .
WHERE I GO DON'T KNOW. ..
WHERE I WILL REACH DON'T KNOW ...
BUT I AM WAITING
AND NEED FOR YOUR LOVE BOAT ....
ONE DAY
IT WILL AGAIN APPEAR
ON THIS SHORE.....*
.MGO
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
*soms een erg tegenstrijdig gevoel
gelukkig zijn
terwijl je weet hoeveel mensen
er wegkwijnen van de pijn
medeleven, empathie
houden mijn lach nu tegen
heeft niks te maken met verlegen
of depressie
nee, het zijn al deze andere levens
die ik altijd maar dichtbij voel, zie
een gift zou je zeggen?
als iemand de zwaarte ervan begreep
als ik het nu eens op tafel kon leggen
mijn medemens heb ik tot egoïst bekroond
omdat men in mijn ogen
te weinig interesse in elkaar toont
kijken alleen naar zichzelf of scherm
zoemen rustig mee in de zwerm
tot ik mijn mond open trek
verschijnt er plotseling een blinde vlek
noemen ze me gek..
willen de waarheid niet onder ogen zien
ik zeg ze: je kan altijd meer geven of doen
al geef je miljoen keer die zelfde zoen
moet de waarde er dan vanaf gaan?
of kan men gewoon blijven genieten
in dit bestaan
meer dan 'normaal' aan elkaar geven
meer dan deze maatschappij
*** graag ik dat altijd al had willen beleven*
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
*een meisje wilt iets
na een feest
slapen bij jou
want ze is nog nooit
zo ver weg geweest
aan jouw zijde sta ik
en met meelevend hart
zei je 'dat is goed'
op dat moment zei ik
'goodbye' to my mood
ik hou me groot
ik hou mijn mond
terwijl ik wil zakken
me laten vallen
op de grond
als van binnen
een demoon of meer
mij aan het verslinden zijn
negatief van de pijn
ik voel me klein
dat het goed is, zei je
tegen wat?
bij mijn ex had ik hier
nooit last van
geen moeite mee gehad
nu graaf ik dan misschien
elke keer mijn graf
maar dit hier was een droom
gebroken wakker
is niet iets dat ik mezelf gaf
en ik weet niet wat te zeggen
weet niet wat ik moet doen
misschien is jouw hart goed
maar zo is onze ****
laat het de onze blijven
niet verpesten door een heks
rampscenarios om te overleven
bedrogen door eigen boven kamer
maar om **** niet erger te maken
is het soms beter te zwijgen
omdat je de 'ja' hebt
maar 'nee' nog **** krijgen*
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
*ik ben klaar
er helemaal klaar mee
klaar met deze maatschappij
klaar met het zgn 'vrij'
klaar met mezelf zijn
klaar met de maskers
klaar met andermans pijn
klaar met het 'geluk' van iedereen
klaar met herhalend onbegrip
klaar met de dip na dip
klaar met dit met stress gevulde lichaam
klaar met elke kortdurende traan
klaar met zorgen, de toegevoegde ellende
klaar met hoop bewaren
klaar met niets doen, de boel laten varen
klaar met blij moeten zijn, lachen
klaar met de negatieve spiraal
klaar met het gevoel van abnormaal
klaar met al het verderf op de wereld
klaar met eeuwige eenzaamheid
klaar met depressiviteit
klaar met studeren en regels
klaar met de ontevredenheid
klaar met klaar, moeten komen
klaar met een 'leuke' baan vinden
klaar met vaarwel en weer binden
klaar met deze ruimte, het bed
klaar met denken dat ik het wel red
klaar met de harteloosheid
klaar met boosheid en nijd
klaar met wakker liggen
klaar met deze kou
klaar met jou
klaar met de grauwe luchten
klaar met mijn diepste zuchten
klaar met dierenmishandeling
klaar met angstzaaierij
klaar met de doorzetterij
klaar met alle competitie
klaar met twijfelen, niet weten wat
klaar met vergeten, alles wat ik had
klaar met het wantrouwen
klaar met de zware schouderlast
klaar met elke oversekste gast
klaar met verdoofd zijn
klaar met mensen, egoisten
klaar met narcisten en racisten
klaar met de gevoeligheid
klaar met slimme meid
klaar met de druk(te)
klaar met strijden
klaar met lijden
klaar.*
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC