"meyer" poems
We are, THE Ohio State Buckeyes
*Those Oregon ducks look flashy
With pretty feathers made for flight
But The Ohio State Buckeyes
We will clip their wings tonight
Our Buckeye team beat Bama
They were ranked at number one
Now we get to go Duck hunting
With Cardale and his shotgun
The Ducks they did look good
Lets give credit where credit's due
They beat undefeated Florida State
So they deserve to be there too
With Ezekiel Elliott making runs
And Urban Meyer making calls
A quarterback known as twelve guage
The Buckeyes will win it all
So now we get to go duck hunting
And as a team we hunt as one
We are the Buckeye Nation
And Duck Season has begun*
**We Are
THE Ohio State Buckeyes**
Game score
FINAL
OHIO STATE 42 Oregon 20
The Ohio State Buckeyes are College Footballs First Playoff National Champions
Poem by:
Carl Joseph Roberts
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
.
J o h n
Dillinger
"P retty Boy"
F l oyd "Baby
Face" Nelson
Al "Scarface"
Capone "Ma
c h i ne Gun"
Kelly Charles
"Lucky" Lucia
no B u g s y
Siegel Carlo
Gambino Jack
Diamond Tom
Devaney Jame
s Coonan D a
wood Ibrahcan Kray Brothers
Demetrius Flenory Joaquin Guzman
James Burke Meyer Lansky
Bonnie Clyde
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
I love Australia it looks fine to me mate
You see Australia is very cool
There are a lot of fun things to do here
You can go down to Sydney"s beaches
Like Bondi, Manly or even Coogee
You can see if you can run faster
Than the best at city 2 surf
It puts Sydney on the Australian map
And we also have our great sporting games
Like cricket, tennis, AFL and the two rugby codes
If you go to the USA, you'll see so many parades
They have for christmas
While we just have one main parade
Which is from Adelaide, and that is really good
You get at glimpse of the past with come on Aussie come on
Sydney started a great Santa race, where you run
A marathon dressed in a Santa suit
And it was brought to Canberra
And it was very successful too
There are two televised Christmas carols
From Sydney's domain and Melbourne's Meyer music bowl
Yes, if you see the great ocean road and then have a look
At the grampians, you will have a great time
And there are some great surf carnivals on various beaches here
Showing that footy and cricket, is not all we have
We love to drink, sometimes too much
But we are out to have a good time
A ball, we are ready to party this Australia day
Australian sons, oh let us rejoice
But we need to include women too
Australians all let us rejoice
With Tony Abbott wanting to destroy us
AS OUR BELOVED PRIME MINISTER OH YEAH A HEAP
We are aussie through and through
So when we go our on Australa day
We watch the fireworks, yes we are having a big ball of fun
In the country of Australia
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
The US will drive like the rest of the world,
And declare peace on the Middle East for all times ahead;
Good films and books will be successful;
And punk’s not dead.
Justin Bieber will bottom all the charts; Pink Floyd'll be back together;
Bond will like his martinis stirred, not shaken;
Race, gender, class and orientation will be nonsense words;
And there’ll be no sequels to Taken.
Teenagers will fawn reading Tolstoy and not Meyer;
Old, black men will order the "extra whip, non-fat, caramel latte, venti;"
Art galleries will be closed to people over 21;
And poets will feature in the Top 20.
There will be equal jobs and opportunities for everyone;
Humans will give up on colonising mars and the moon;
We will bring down the imperialistic, capitalist, racist, misogynistic hetero-patriarchy;
And you will love me, tonight at noon.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
I love Australia it looks fine to me mate
You see Australia is very cool
There are a lot of fun things to do here
You can go down to Sydney"s beaches
Like Bondi, Manly or even Coogee
You can see if you can run faster
Than the best at city 2 surf
It puts Sydney on the Australian map
And we also have our great sporting games
Like cricket, tennis, AFL and the two rugby codes
If you go to the USA, you'll see so many parades
They have for christmas
While we just have one main parade
Which is from Adelaide, and that is really good
You get at glimpse of the past with come on Aussie come on
Sydney started a great Santa race, where you run
A marathon dressed in a Santa suit
And it was brought to Canberra
And it was very successful too
There are two televised Christmas carols
From Sydney's domain and Melbourne's Meyer music bowl
Yes, if you see the great ocean road and then have a look
At the grampians, you will have a great time
And there are some great surf carnivals on various beaches here
Showing that footy and cricket, is not all we have
We love to drink, sometimes too much
But we are out to have a good time
A ball, we are ready to party this Australia day
Australian sons, oh let us rejoice
But we need to include women too
Australians all let us rejoice
With Tony Abbott wanting to destroy us
TOO BAD JULIA AND KEVIN WEREN’T ANY MATCH BUT
We are aussie through and through
So when we go our on Australa day
We watch the fireworks, yes we are having a big ball of fun
In the country of Australia
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
reign on my charade, but risk the dapple
the first to kayak to mars. Jester, you say?
Messers Metro, Goldwyn and Meyer shan't have floundered
if you had taken the turtleneck, roughshod
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
reign on my charade, but risk the dapple
the first to kayak to mars. Jester, you say?
Messers Metro, Goldwyn and Meyer shan't have floundered
if you had taken the turtleneck, roughshod
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
It's supposed to be
98 and cloudless today.
By the time I roll in,
and park my car,
Roman's walking up to me,
his gold tooth a
full yellow smile in the sun.
“Hey meyer,
I need you to
Pull the box truck around,
We’ve got some plants we’ve gotta load,
Then we’ve got a landscape job
About an hour from here.”
“Are we gonna be back here
Today?”
“Probably not
until
late.”
The box truck
Is a holdover from the old owners
Of Ken’s Nursery,
It’s still got
Ken’s Nursery in large comic sans
On it’s rust-streaked sides.
The wheel wells are rusted
brown as salt deposits
On the shores of sulfuric oceans,
and little ringlets of decay
rock as the truck bounces;
It’s old springs
Giving back after all these years.
Today we have:
Forty-two veriagated ferns.
Ten dragon lilies.
10 cannas,
But cannas have to have a male and female to flower,
So 20 cannas collectively,
And we’ve gotta mulch.
By the time we’ve loaded all the plants;
stuffed the mulch in with the Bobcat,
And thrown in our picks and shovels,
My shirt is soaked through.
98 degrees and cloudless.
Roman walks to his car
and takes off his shirt
To reveal a pink belly
full of folding skin
and matted black upwelling *****
Singing with sweat-diamonds
In the unperturbed vision of the sun.
My shirt is soaked already too.
But even as I loaded the truck,
I thought about Melissa.
When I get home,
She probably won’t be there.
When the female is separated from the male canna,
Nothing dies, the two live happily ever after.
But the canna does not flower,
And doesn’t remember enough
To miss it.
Just continues quietly with a black bulb
The color of a skink’s underbelly.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 12:01 AM UTC
I don’t know what it would be like but a man can dream,
I want to go grocery shopping with Jeandar, you know like a team.
She could drive and I would ride,
Backseat buckled bags by my side.
Where do you want to go?
Natural Pantry? Fred Meyer? Costco?
Ok well we’re gonna go get some healthy food,
Now taste this codliver oil come on don’t be rude.
Here take this bottle of oregano,
It’ll make your skin glow, dontcha know?
Can you go get the milk,
and I mean soy and it better be silk.
I’ll be in the vegetable section,
checking some asparagus for defection.
We’re not gonna get bread here,
We’re going to great harvest for real stuff dear.
Before we go grab a thing of cashews,
oh yeah and some vitamin-D too.
Have you been taking your vitamins?
Hey call Ivory and ask if she wants some treats,
We can find her some healthy snacks to eats.
Have you eaten dinner yet?
a place at the table we can still set
Make sure you wash your hands now,
That’s something I won’t disallow.
Goodnight, drive safe, call me when you get there,
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
reading book with the same title by Stephenie Meyer ...
There you stood in
the pouring downpour
each raindrop dressed
in the scent of
your damp feral being
I gaze long and hard
at those hands
how beautiful they looked!
maybe they were those
of a sculptors
having sculpted
a thousand deaths before
with sheer perfection
Every time
lightening struck
the night would morph from
gray to black to ocher
just like…
those eyes
of yours (?)
those strides promised ecstasy
as they advanced towards me
only when the fangs
dug deep into my fevered flesh
could I Smell blood for the first time
crunchy…salty and peppery
I never wanted the rain to end
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 5:48 PM UTC
Ganjgal, September 8, 2009
They had a job to do that day
in the Valley of Ganjgal.
Afghani and Americans
walked into a metal hail.
An ambush had been laid for them
as they approached the town
Every light was darkened
Taliban held the high ground.
One squad was pinned
Behind a wall and
was taking Casualties.
The gunny Sergeant
for sure was dead
and perhaps the other three.
Corporal Meyer on the radio
called for suppressive fire
but was denied because brass feared
to rouse the natives ire.
With no air support available
and the situation looking grim
Corporal Meyer told his Sergeant
They should take the Humvee in.
They drove into the ambush zone
time and time again
Engaging with the enemy
and rescuing their friends.
Corporal Meyer killed one enemy
at close range with his M-4
He then engaged with a machine gun
and killed or wounded several more.
When air support, at last, arrived
and held the foe at bay
Corporal Meyer entered the killing zone
to take the dead away.
He came across four bodies
that had been stripped of guns and gear
All four had been shot at close range
the postmortems make that clear..
On his broad shoulders he bore a friend
Who’d paid the price of war.
He ran between the bullets
until he had retrieved all four.
Disregarding his own safety
and heedless of his Shrapnel wound
He displayed great personal bravery
without which our cause is doomed.
Corporal Meyer wears an honor now
that few men living bear
The Medal of Honor on his chest
for conspicuous Gallantry there.
He will tell you he’s no hero.
He just had a job to do.
A proud United States Marine
to their motto ever true.
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 11:42 PM UTC
I started reading late and never learnt to put down the book
I guess I burnt out with the strength learning took
I couldn't stop spewing the facts that I learnt in school
But now when I open my mouth I cant help playing the fool
I guess I stopped using words that others could question
I guess I got tired of being the only one awake in lessons
I guess it's not worth it to embrace a humming mind
When being alone is the only solace that I find
Because honestly, we are "in clanging space a moment heard"
And Yeats is the only friend that doesn't think I'm absurd
And my friends take the **** because I read poetry while simultaneously they're reading books that I breathe
"If its not on the curriculum then it doesn't count"
Well I read it all years ago, want to know what its about?
Maybe its dense to think that English Lit numbs your mind but I didn't take the subject and it didn't stunt the meanings that I find
I guess it's my fault for reading Leroux instead of Meyer
But the only fantasy I need has a mask hiding layers
And I guess Lloyd Webber gave it a rebirth but The Phantom of the Opera was my favourite book first
I wish that reading books could make me superior
But I'm in a corner, lips tight, perpetually inferior
I wish I'd learnt the things that they'd learnt in school
Like throwing parties and talking back and breaking the rules
I'm caught between one extreme and the next
One second I'm curled thinking alone the next I'm having ***
Because when I voice my thoughts they're warped and inaccurate
Sometimes I wonder if I'd express them better if I'd stayed celibate
Surely talking shouldn't be so hard
But it's difficult to hold back the words that I want to discard
Discard because my head hurts from the pressure
Of the thoughts that no right mind could measure
I suffer from the pain of never feeling understood but honestly, I would push you away if you could
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Karl Gustav Van der Meyer
era un gran jardinero.
Allá, en su alegre Holanda de cofias y molinos,
de canales y zuecos,
Karl Gustav cultivaba tulipanes extraños
en la penumbra de su invernadero.
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer soñaba con la gloria
de un tulipán fastuosamente *****
íntegramente ***** como las noches árticas,
como un luto total en terciopelo.
Y era así, día a día y año tras año.
Y su sueño era un sueño.
Pero él, imperturbable, regaba sus macetas,
meditando en abonos y en injertos.
(A veces, distraído, se guardaba los bulbos
en los bolsillos del chaleco...)
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer, indiferentemente,
vio blanquear sus cabellos.
Pasó el amor un día y él se encogió de hombros,
para seguir soñando con tulipanes negros...
Pero, una noche, alguien saltó la tapia.
Alguien, con un puñal.
Y el jardinero
cayó de bruces sobre sus macetas,
muerto.
Y alguien cavó en la tierra,
y echó el cadáver y tapó aquel hueco.
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer se quedó para siempre
en la penumbra de su invernadero.
Ah, pero un día, un día
se vio brotar del suelo
un tulipán de luto,
fastuosamente, íntegramente *****
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer no pudo ver su gloria,
pues la abonó su propio cuerpo.
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer
no supo que su muerte le dio vida a su sueño...
(Karl Gustav Van der Mayer siempre llevaba bulbos
en los bolsillos del chaleco...)
Por los viejos canales siguen pasando barcas,
y aún giran, como entonces, los molinos de viento.
Las muchachas sin novio regresan del domingo
entre un blancor de cofias y un trepidar de zuecos.
Ah, y, sin embargo,
Karl Gustav Van der Mayer era un gran jardinero!
1.1k
Robert was his name
A chap with snow skin
A version of the modern Snow White
Yes, not she but he.
He shines not like Rihanna's diamonds
Keeps roaring, but not with Katy Perry
His life was written and published
Meyer was not her lover
Neither did he had his own Vampire Diaries.
The fire sieged
Eyes are in flame
Towards the Goblet of Fire
And the victory was not his
And there he stands in his own grave.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
Smelly house party.
Smelly people.
Beers got tipped over.
Loud people
yelling
happily
all over the house.
And we just stayed in that
corner
all close
and kissing.
The fake tree right beside us
glittered with christmas lights
all night long.
Your eyes burned
and twinkled
giving life.
I didn't want anyone else
to ever see
how reflective
you can be.
"YUKIMI!"
someone yelled.
"THAT'S SO GROSS MEYER,
GO SOMEWHERE ELSE
WITH THAT ****
YOU TWO ARE GONNA START *******
OVER THERE."
THEY FORGOT US
AFTER THEY SAID IT
AND WE
KISSED
DRUNK
UNTIL WE WOUND UP IN A CAB.
WOUND UP SMUSHED TOGETHER IN THE BACK
KISSING MORE AND MORE;
LIPS JUST STUMBLING FOR REST.
WOUND UP BUMBLING UP THE STAIRS.
WOUND UP IN THE APARTMENT.
WOUND UP TAKING EACH OTHER'S CLOTHES OFF.
WOUND UP KISSING NAKED ALL NIGHT LONG.
wound up closer than clowns in a cannon.
we were hot all night long.
woke up sweating.
woke up feverish.
woke up with more love to give,
after puking
and brushing
teeth.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
I miss the things I never
did, the ferry ride I never
took, the brittle cold that
sunk to the depths of my
toes and the sushi place
down the street from my
house. You can whisper
that I'm doing the same
thing but I miss the leaves
at EDCC and the rain,
quality frozen yogurt
and the front row at
Loews Theater, I miss
the sound of my wheels
privy to the Boeing freeway
You can whisper that I'm feeling
the same way but I miss things I
don't recognize, the drive past
the lighthouse and the neighbor
who had music too loud, the
shy cashier at Fred Meyer
and also their apple
display that was
aesthetically
pleasing.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Reign on my charade, but risk the dapple
I found a new water route to Mars.
Messers Metro, Goldwyn and Meyer won't mind
when you take the turtleneck, Angeline.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
A Hound’s Garden
The Citrus Saga
Part One: Cursed
The blossoms were sweetly fragrant
belying their sour harvest
the tree named Meyer bore a dulcet legacy
doomed
to wither in a corner
under the sly vigilance of a young hound.
Part Two: Salvation
It arrived in a plain brown box
glossy leaves without flowers
a solitary green satsuma
flailing in the breeze
transformed under the sleepy gaze
of a furry connoisseur
whose daily test sniff promised
a favorite delicacy’s imminent
arrival.
Part Three: Thankful Harvest
Peeled glory
boasted
succulent slices
of tangerine heaven
just barely enough for one mouth
to savor.
Part Four: Grim Reaper
Growing season came again
fragrant blossoms erupted
sweet branches
studded with unripe fruit
stood proudly in the Texas sunlight
when like a thief in the night
every unborn tangerine
was gone one early morn
sad faces saw the end
of a Satsuma riddled era.
Part 5: Fare Thee Well
Years have passed
Since the hound’s youthful
indiscretions
her sight long gone
nose not as sharp
the tangerine tree
belongs
to someone else
those fruitful bounties
live only in the dreams
of an old dog.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
She is a caregiver.
She who gives complete care is she whose care is completely given -
So much care to give yet none remains for herself.
Built 6 ft. tall she carries:
A Rolleiflex 3.5T,
A phony french accent
And an enigmatical past.
Ms Mayer.
As her lens soaks up the quintessence of normality in
A diluted Chicago suburb or
The emphatic streets of Manhattan;
She was wired to observe.
Her nature, craving to sustain unrepeatable moments.
Instances so human,
A simple photograph just isn’t quite enough
To capture them.
V. Meyer.
She relies unwaveringly on an object whose sole purpose is to
Look through,
To surpass.
But to her it acts contradictorily as
A barrier,
A rationalized blindness.
An outside eye peering into the lives of others
But never within herself.
She is the lady who would rather look through a lens than into a mirror
Because her refracted self is slightly easier confronted than that reflected.
Vivian Maier.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
I don't know how to get close to a girl.
I can look at her"
Listen.
Remember.
Regurgitate.
Affirm.
Re-affirm.
Console.
Consort.
Combat.
But I can't get close to her.
Tell her things like
Meyer's definition of
Fear:
Being too much of something;
Something that the female didn't previously realize was in
the Meyer.
Something that makes the female smile in an
awkward and puzzled way,
a smile previously used in different contexts,
but she has never smiled at
the Meyer
using it;
the female never thought she could come close to
or
would have to
use it,
the Meyer previously seemed
transparent.
You see,
there is something in
the Meyer,
something
crawling
and wet
and in a cave right above
his pelvis
but
below
his
rib cage.
Sometimes
the creature
comes out
of
the Meyer's
mouth
and let's its name
be known.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 9:41 PM UTC
my hair always caught
on the beaded wooden
seat cover on the passenger
side, knees up, feet on the
dashboard, modest mouse
telling me to Float On,
back from the beach
back from home (both)
back from half price
from mcdonalds,
from fred meyer
92nd street park (in the end)
will you go back
and look at what
i etched on the bench?
it was a doodle, but
it meant I l o v e y o u
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
A love triangle
Of two rivals
One shows, but is the love really true?
One truly loves, but doesn't always show enough
A magnet stuck in the middle
Attracting the opposite pairs
Spinning from side to side
To see who really cares
It's hard to make a choice
Between true love,
And what was confused to be love
Turns out it was something else, so to say,
She thinks she's made her choice
Once the darkness goes away
But her darkness soon returns
and things never were the same
With all this confusion
I don't want to play this game
You know,
This sounds really familiar
Our story has already been written
It has already been put to paper,
By the legendary Stephanie Meyer
I'm Jacob
With my warmth, and emotions that I hide
She's Edward
With her false words, and cold darkness on the inside
So you must be Bella
Not knowing which way to bend
But Stephanie Meyer
Already told me how this would end
How about instead
A change in the story line, and fast,
How about this time
The good guy DOESN'T finish last
How about this time
The best friend doesn't take the fall.
How about this time
True love conquers all.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Hopped in the rari
mama said she sorry
gettin all this money
you girl call me honey
droppin bands like its nothin
call me big bad cause im huffin
little piggys want no smoke
they aint nothin cause they broke
Urban meyer know he beatin
not fired cause he cheatin
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
The Ohio State coach Urban Meyer knew about the domestic violence allegations against former wide receivers coach Zach Smith in 2015, according to college football reporter Brett McMurphy, contradicting what he told reporters at Big Ten media days last week.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:11 AM UTC