"misspelling" poems
We can dream...
"Donald J. TrumpVerified account
@realDonaldTrump
China steals United States Navy research drone in international waters - rips it out of water and takes it to China in unpresidented act."
** Emphasis mine. Trump's misspelling: all his, baby.
**un·prec·e·dent·ed
ˌənˈpresədən(t)əd/
adjective
never done or known before.
"the government took the unprecedented step of releasing confidential correspondence"
synonyms: unheard of, unknown, new, novel, groundbreaking, revolutionary, pioneering, epoch-making;**
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 5:23 AM UTC
Life is laundry,
life is dishes,
life is mowing the lawn
on a really hot day when you dont want to mow the lawn.
it's an itch where the scratch dont satisfy.
a broken reward circuit.
an endless procession of days punctuated by their ends.
several.
short.
halting.
sentences.
mop the floor.
walk the dog.
go to work.
awash in disappointment.
i'm always misspelling that word
familiar with it yet i fumble.
just like my ******* chores.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Goodnight pumpkin, I luv you. L-U-V U.
Dear mom,
Nothing ****** me off more than misspelling the word Love.
If you’re not willing to put two seconds into a text or even a letter
to spell it correctly, then you need a ******* dictionary.
The only time you looked into a dictionary was to find words big enough so they could fit through ears but not into my brain making it easier for lies to flow out of your mouth like it is second nature.
The only truth that ever spit out of your mouth like lemon juice, was when you told us, not all lives have happy endings.
But when you were still here, and I was only eight,
you let me watch disney movies so I could learn my own fate.
One of the movies taught me that if I said Ohana means family,
that you’d respond with,
family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten
But you left your kids to pursue Your happiness,
Now every time you leave to Pennsylvania another memory of us flies away from the airport you call a body just like the planes you get on,
Your lies create a tornado that destroys everything in it’s path,
and my life is a flat ground so this spiral of emotions won’t stop until you do.
You circled your yin-yang arms around me for the first time in the hospital, that was the same night people in white coats handed you a certificate with my name written on it, Now anytime my name is brought up in a subject you pull your hoodie over your head as a sign of embarrassment.
I want you to feel the pain you have been giving me for the last 2
years when you hear this poem.
I want you to realize that you’re the reason my feelings are
scribbled down to make a mess out on paper.
Every night I make a new river with my tears and when I realize you are
lying to me, it makes waves of depression
and those waves, are created by earthquakes of anger.
These waves are strong enough to break through any hoover dam
made up of antidepressants and pills that will only make me what
you want me to be which is “normal”?
If you tell someone you love them at least have the audacity to
mean it.
Be a the definition of a mom and care about us and our
feelings, and not just your own.
Mom, I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U
Ohana means Family, but no one said family would last forever. But
you always will last forever, in my heart
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
as soon as the banishment in a forest comes to an end
all the rain-drops come to the ball-room with unfolded
umbrellas over their heads
the slumber of the adjourned dialogues
also breaks
all the blossoms of the cucurbitaceous plant
that are supposed to open their petals
have gone to the majlis of the aquatic-plants
riding on a wrong-minibus
then a photograph of the dinner- party
is to be found out and brought for the saliva-gland
there is no voice of the palms of the open-window
of his own
even then
each and every the air-hostess eagers to listen
to the song of boat-rowing from him
here the duck of the mid-noon
is engaged in pleasure
with the flower-vase of class x
their drinking-bowl is flying
along the flame of the rail-line
though it does not bear any grief
to the large lake
that is wetted with perspiration
there is no delta of misspelling as well
it has only the smoking of thousand cusec
all the day and night
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 4:17 AM UTC
I start to write into a
puddle of metaphors
meant to be a love poem
and as I write down
the word love
for the thousandth
of the thousandth time
I accidentally misspell it...
...with the letters
of your name...
and I know visually
that it looks wrong on paper
but when I hear it in my head
it sounds right
and now I can’t quite remember
any other way to spell it
and thats not really the worst of it
because I’m really just rewriting
the same poem over and over again
somehow hoping that rearranging
the letters and the words
will somehow align the stars in heaven
causing my heartbeat to sync with yours
and somehow you will just know how I feel
and I won’t have to stutter
and stammer and choke on the words
because every time
you’re are sitting across from me
or standing anywhere near me
or being anywhere out there
in the world breathing
while just being you
causes my mouth and my hands
and my body
and the whole world around me
to tremble
as I begin
to feel so dangerously close
to not feeling so alone
and alone is a thing
I have grown to be
incredibly comfortably with
alone is a safe heaven
of quite and peaceful solitude
where pain is a thing
easily stitched away
inside secret pockets
of regret
that nobody knows about
alone is something that has
become the best friend
my heart has ever known
a secret companion
no one can steal away from me
the person that knows everything
about me that is too embarrassing
or strange
or heartbreaking to talk about
it knows things that
I don’t even know about myself
I am sure that I am
about to be swallowed
by some armageddon level event
and be forgotten by history
because this isn’t the kind of story
that i get to be a part of
except for the character
that no one notices
so there is no need to remember
who I was
or how when I thought
I misspelled the word love
with the letters of your name
was the first
and only time
I ever actually got it right
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
Everyone has those days,
Where they just can seem to pay attention,
Where all they want to do is look out the window.
For me, Its everyday,
Everyday since I could remember misspelling my name at the top of my paper,
That went on till I was in third grade,
Its funny how I can write it so simply now,
And how the spelling of my name,
Used to be the least of my worries.
I remember when I used to jump around all the time,
Not ever being able to calm down,
Now I have that restless leg syndrome,
Whenever I’m called on by a teacher,
My anxiety kicks in,
But I still have to sit there uncomfortably,
And answer their question,
Honestly, its not fair,
When people think its all an act,
I wish they would see how I struggled,
When I’m unable to ask for things I really need,
Because I’d rather take a zero then let someone make me feel,
Less then,
More than I already do,
When I am the awkward one,
with my “friends” in the conversations,
Not being socially acceptable,
Because sometimes I talk when I shouldn’t,
Or don’t always get everything,
But when teachers don’t even want to try,
And understand you,
And maybe help you when they're supposed to,
Why do they expect me to keep trying?
When I’d get the same results,
if I just gave up.
This is what happens when you have an unseen disability,
Because no one believes it's a really thing,
So everyone gives up,
Everyone thinks kids use it as an excuse to be lazy,
But anyone with it,
Know how hard it takes to work for something,
And then watch it mean nothing.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Please re-read as I will be making changes to this poem over and over
I want to tell you something
I am a man who loves changes
Changes of everything
You will see me suggest
A change in every retrospect
This morning I was re-reading
my own HP site and I was impressed
by my choices and how I ended up
With 3 different reposts of "My Fears"
from 3 different poets
that I reposted without me knowing
It's amazing how I am amazed
of my choices and have read them
like as if I am choosing them again
Now hear out my new suggestion
To HP and if you do like
Please make your voice be heard
It goes as follows:
If you like to relive the poetry
and you like to re-read your choices
and you like to reread the poems
you chose before once more
and get surprised while reading them
as if you did not choose them before
Then, we either need a second love button! Or
we need to automate the love button
and every time we reread it knows
and the love gets even stronger
and somehow it grows
Another suggestion that hit me in the head while I was re-writing my poem
*"The new suggestion is to give a comeback wink
to the previous folks who just read my poem
and ping them of my new important fix
To invite them to re-taste the cake that I just re-cooked
Or the cooking does not get posted
Until I feel its real good
and I press the release button
Before I let it go like I should
And may be we need to check our poem button with people that we trust
Before we embarrass ourselves badly
with a poem that may bust"*
The problem with this is honesty
That we don't do it for just the fame
So for this I need your opinion to fix
my suggestion in playing the game
and make HP an even a better place
and enjoy it again and again!
Additional suggestions to HP:
* please fix the current suggestions which is still lit even when I fixed my suggested misspellings. .. Call it repair
* a suggestion button to HP in the menu
* a share with others button that can grow .. You can click and see who I shared it with ... it can also be private
* a playback button ... Reads out loud
* a favorite button .. Quickly adds it to your favorites
* a read later button
* by double clicking a word you can ping the poet for a misspelling or a suggestion of a new word or love that word
* a unite with another poet button
* Go Interactive button .. Others can re-write your poetry!
* a challenge button .. Encourage challenge with another poet
* a marry me button .. which starts with an enragement ring ..
*friends .. siblings and brothers and family button ... they have to accept you as a family member!
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
expect digression, misspelling,
self-formed words. and for this
to be a long one, therefore not
worth reading.
ten hours, but of awakening for
twenty or so. drinking wine from
bottle to gauge consumption, but
also because that's how one
should show how much of a classy
************ they are. drinking
and re-reading, the prior being
some kinda sin for a writer.
of Hemginway:
'Write drunk, edit sober.'
rules worth breaking and many
a lack of luck permeates. and
this one writes for you. canvas-
flapped this loss of arm. that's
a prior reference, by the way.
he was ruined of them; ruined
a curse propagation brought him.
to rise and wage however a
******* could, yet that however
brought an end in entirety. and
after a summer sweating, and
after a once and always absol-
ution of this winter madness.
(the only cure has ever been
isolation and deprecation)
always fleet-footed in the stressed
moments of the everyday. and
writing here, writing of this the
last few pages, expressioned in
particular voice. recanting
never these sacred art, defending
never the choices made nor whims
of soul or vessel. and breaking, and
influenced - to cite the adjective of
'inspired' - this phonetic will ounces
out restrained. restrained. next line.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
when in doubt-i-hyphentate.
this-also prevents Microsoft-word
from capitializing my i-‘s when i-want them
to stay bite-sized humble pie,
but it still capitalizes
itself)
Microsoft word*
* big ‘m’ added by bill gates
misspelling it prevents this
micropoft word*
* i-am the best kind of rebel
i-refuse to be told how to write by anyone
gate-related or otherwise,
even if i-may occasionally **** myself
on paper, the rain will take it all off,
we shall all be healed.
we *will all be healed.
carried away from the squaggly
green/red/blue lines of a processor
which doesn”t understand: poerty so often is
sentence fragments and uncapitalized i-s
untied shoelaces in a dark boling alley,
my bad breath and watered down alcohol,
stains and the hours spent rubbing them,
sounds on a dead tv set, rubbing carpet in
your aunt’s living room,
i-can spell
things how
i-want to
poerty is fun
like this;
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
with carnivorous eyes without a center
he's secretly moulding the void from behind
too many interrupted gestures
he's afraid we're going to laugh at his naked ****
he has sensitive dreams and nervous fingertips
such is the pain not kidding that he starts misspelling
his name
passionate like a colt, like a murderous silence
he doesn't mind he is a fragment
waiting to be taken somewhere
beyond
to an unknown love
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
3 days
4 months
5 hours
6 minutes
7 ways to make you say "ooh"
I bought pizza kittens flying through space
Find your advertising ******* on my shirt
Let's travel to Pacoima
I hear it's nice there
Left field relationships
Right behind the nearest Amusement Park
It's getting easier not to give a ****
Oh goodness, language, good sir
Let's me and me lay down naked
Bear's fur
I do enough self loathing for the both of us
Single-awareness
I've tried to keep vigilant
Self-fucking for the hell of it
I spaced this one to the right
I take showers in flowers made of Novocaine and sea salt
I just realized the misspelling of lyrics and song names will never by my fault
Long lines of words and *******
Let's go to the nearest cineplex
Bottellas de vino y mas cerveza para mi!
Let's watch Jurassic Park in 3D
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
The facts have never been
All too important to me,
You see,
It’s more about what I feel,
And see and think in my
BRIAN,
-Which is BRAIN spelt wrong,
Because doesn’t always work on cue-
My BRAIN,
That dictates the world around me,
And the girls that **** me
And the girls that **** me.
And the girls that think the world of me and this mind,
Or an admiration of some kind,
Or so I hope,
And no
I don’t expect you to understand.
Not like this, not without my hand
In marriage? Hell no, a proposition, I hand you,
So **** you and your little dog too,
Cindarella,
And I didn’t even spell your name right,
Because the classics don’t lie,
But I think lying’s fine,
At least once, tonight.
Tonight, I’m right,
And tonight we’ll be just fine.
So which one was the lie?
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
It's my work.
It's a certified Personal
Original,
So why is my name marked
As a misspelling -
And why are you
Changing my wording?
Do you know why
I almost cannot write?
Every word is a window,
And every line a bright light inside;
The ending of a sentence
Is a lifting of the blinds:
Anyone can see in.
The ink on the page
(The actors on the stage
Of my mind) are arranged
According to my direction.
(I call action,
And only I.)
But my name is a misspelling
And you change the wording.
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 5:00 PM UTC
more than we can write. erase
and unpick the seams. words tarry,
waver and leave this place, this room,
scuttle back into corners. sweep the house clean,
cross the words and know that when the time is right,
they will come again, dripping from fingers,
folded , torn, photographed in plenty.
wondered about misspelling, maybe
missed the point?
sbm.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
NOTE TO POET, RAT ALUMUGUM:
Dear Sir
I saw your profile
on this site
I love your
profile
and methinks
I fall in love with you
you can send me
email
my email address is:
[email protected]
Write 2 mee
and I slew you my **** **** pix…
and maybe we can live happily ever after
DEAR REALHOTSEXBOMB:
I want to write to you
and give you all I got
but since the last time I gave all I got
I think it was to dirtybombgirl
my wife sits beside me
at the computer
and makes me read aloud every note
and every item on the screen I see
and she forces my fingers on the keypad
and she says –
her words, not mine
and her misspelling, not mine
and her opinion of me, not mine:
"Get off my idiotic man
u beach!
Don’t you steel him
and his money;
God knows
I've waited long enough
for him to die!
Go find some other sucker;
this sucker is mine!"
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 4:01 AM UTC
rusting my nets on the edge of the sink,
i am peeing.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
I don't write poems for therapy.
But because words so freely comes to me.
I've been blessed with this talent.
Which I believe is God given.
That we all have.
Yes, God given talent to contribute nicely to the world.
Whether you're a barber, teacher,preacher, mechanic or a technician.
What comes to mind?
Is instantly written down.
Some upon paper.
Some just a written flow on my computer.
Obviously, the misspelling you must have spotted.
Or have came to know.
We all have this imagination.
Maybe , not on the same level of God.
The first creator.
But he has blessed us to create.
Whether you are an artist, writer or painter.
God given talent should be wasted.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC
(This is by no means an attempt at poetry. It is, instead, a piece of satire.)
Making Adultery Great Again
Make America Groan Aloud
Making Americans Greedy ********
Male American Grandiosity Association
Many Americans Grabbing *****
Mediocrity Actually Grows Annually
Men Acting Grossly Asinine
Masculinity And Grossness Amalgamated
Meanness And Greed Acceptability
Megalomaniacs Abrogating Government Accountability
Mostly ******** Getting Aggressive
Masking All Government Aggression
Miserable Atrocious GOP *****
Mad Animals Getting Angry
Making America Grow Antisocial.
Misanthropic Association Gutting America
Mistaking Accuracy, Growing Artless
Misery Accompanies GOP Analyses.
Misquoting Anybody Gains Approval.
Misspelling Anything Good Anytime.
Magic Ain’t Gonna Appear
Maybe All GOP Avoid
Meanness And Gouging Anytime
Money And Greed Always
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
im not your antonym—
a double negative
im not a flat rhythm
lacking an objective
and im not unstable
or merely unable
to connect the dots
its just that im
terrified of
misspelling
what it is we
are we just two
passersby who
shared a glance or
two and never
looked back at what
could become of
“us” is a pronoun
and we are sentenced
to silent eternity
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 2:33 AM UTC
we make time as we,
just for our own peace of mind,
correct our misspelling:
noise noise noise noise noise!
and everything falls silent...
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Madness be my mistress
My lovely siren song
Satyr in the forest
Chasing naughty nymphs
Demon in the darkness
And monster in my closet
Madness be my lover
Manic movements
Caffeinated frenzies
Typing fast and misspelling much
Strange allusions to those who are touched
Voices in my eardrums
Vision in my breath
Madness be the scent
Of sweaty insane men
Bashing brains
Against their times
Killing quantum equations
That plague their minds
She was my first lover
She will be my last
And from sanity’s flask
I will not sip one sup of it
Madness be my lover
Painter of the stars
Be you jester, genius
Or merely who you are
Madness be my cause to create
Cause no other cause is left
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
there’s a delhi boy, somewhere out there
i like to to think that he is the physical embodiment of opposite day
because when push him away, he pulls me back
when i tell him i hate him, he says he loves me
and when i say i want to leave and im halfway to leaving through the door,
he grabs my arm,
pulls me back,
and gently says,
“this is YOUR house, you can’t leave YOUR OWN house. you’re being ridiculous. also where do you keep the mayo?”
there’s a delhi boy, somewhere out there
and he’s pretty **** wild
when i say wild, i dont mean he lives like every day is his last
i mean he’s wild enough to believe there will always be a tomorrow
and don’t get me wrong, im not saying that like it’s a bad thing
because when i tell him i won’t survive that night
somehow his tomorrow-ness always helps me make it to the sunrise
you see, he’s the first boy i haven’t scared away
with my tendency to want to die
no, it’s much more than that
in fact
he plants entire fields of flowers for me
instead of picking a few to put on my to-be casket
like everyone else does
he writes to me with the flower stems
and makes me feel like im the backbone of all his sentences
even though im more a sentence fragment, missing conjunctions, is that a misspelling of because? kinda gal
he likes to edit, but he never takes credit for fixing me
you see, writer’s block becomes a hollow garden full of red ikea flowers shrouded in my guts when i think of him
because it’s not that i don’t know what to say
its that i have so much to say all at once
because he is so much of everything good i did not know i deserved
for the distance between us not to hurt
the closest thing I have to an accepted prayer
as someone
that doesn’t really believe in soulmates, I mean
can you even objectively define a soulmate?
even if you could, what is the statistical probability that your soulmate isn’t dead?
i guess he can be unfamiliar territory because
im so used to people tearing off the parts of me they need
and hes the first one to ever say he would not let any part of me go
theres a delhi boy out there
and i hope he knows that he always has a home in my notebooks
because my writing comes from my heart and he has mine
i hope he knows that he fits in between the lines of my poems better than the spaces
of our fingers when im holding his hand and
after heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak
he is my first healing
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:29 AM UTC
Top notch legal scholar Erin Go Braw
(less concerned about being fair versus
abominable, irrevocable, and execrable
unforgivable oversight most holy "M" & *****
cabinet of high priests,
sans spelling chieftains ready to claw
your person to bits,
and they presage remote clemency
which decision told, when Jeff Sessions
decides final punishment to draw
now, (see excerpted lines
visited with glaring flaw
"Benediction For Lord Apple Macintosh"
where ...bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks, required a secret char),...
intimates a "hee haw"
and rock'm n sock'm pull no punches
square at yar triangular jaw
YES, on account misspelling,
whence Grammarian Jude Law
at the least aims (to topple a prospective
title of eminence grise), banning access
to such undeserved
catbird seat, sans Rhetorical perch
laughing while ja plaintively call for maw
**** Oxford English Dictionary - but naw
can do, and hence paw
mister trumpeting
"FAKE" wordsmith raw
flesh will turn into....
unreadable print until closing text
that elaborates how holiness felt vexed.
To ye (a freshly minted scalawag),
these 20/20 eyes bulged agog
while steaming with invective
at what attempted
to pass as sacred poetic blog
when thee (Matthew Scott Harris),
now pronounced, an illiterate,
immoderate, and inveterate å!@#$%∑
with a severe cerebral clog
(meaning prefrontal lobotomy
not out of the question),
you m~r mangy whelp of a she dog
(my humble apologies to canines),
less deserving than being
whipped near death's doorstep flog
after henchmen (strongly
resembling Alaskan BullWorms
guarding this royal hutch,
herein Cupertino, California.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC