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"muss" poems
And when I die, surely from sin and dirt and living- Do not bury me in white. Do not brush my hair and paint my nails. Do not shine my heels and iron my dress. Do not speak of me so bittersweetly. Bury me in lingerie with frayed lace. Muss my hair and smear my lipstick. Scuff my boots and rip my tights. Speak of me with thinly-veiled vehemence. Do not love me, when I am dead. For none did during life, other than in the glow of a t.v. that only played to hide the moans. Do not bury an imposter and spin tales of a sweet ****** who died too soon. Bury a ***** and rage that you were not the one to finally silence her.
0
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
Burying a *****
The Little Bird came a hopping up And flew into his arms. She cooed and chirped and occasionally burped As she snuggled from all harms. Her eyes so blue and so inquisitive She searched his face for a smile. Then saw what she  was waiting for... Spread across a country mile. Her feathers so fine and very blond Flew around when she did move. As the music began to play and sway Her body began to groove. Her love of music, things so fine Came naturally to her. When Papa  played his old guitar It caused her feet to stir. She laid her head upon his chest And let out a great big sigh. All was well in little bird land That, you could not deny. Her eyes fluttered closed, her feathers a muss The face of an angel shone. Asleep in the arms of her grandpa Little Bird and him, alone. Good night Little Lucy Bird.  Sleep tight Princess.
0
Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 12:39 PM UTC
The Little Bird
iPad Love 4:49 AM, and by the light of the silvery moon and our iPad screens turned down low, we snuggle side by side, our fingers glide so softly upon each, each of our own devices, this technique, it could be an app, teaching how to caress a human being. No need to tell you in sound, out loud, how you turn my heart upside down, I'll just post a note of appreciation on Facebook, you will see it faster, and besides, you got your earphones on and could not hear my sweet nothings if I screamed them in high definition. The newspaper arrives on the electric "doorstep" - no longer will do we venture outside in pink bathrobes and curlers, or boxer shorts, a legal gesture of neighborly disdain. Americana, losing another icon, as well as insuring the unemployment of thousands of newspaper deliverers, boys and girls, on bicycles, their first job, now obsolescent. Your feet, so cozy and warm, touching mine, the sensation, lovely and fine, duly recorded in a poem that on my iPad I scribble, as my typos disappear, out of sight. your ear, I nibble, something you hate and I love, but electronically, it's done with no fuss or muss, and I don't even have to move! Sadly, I can find no app that will bring the warmth of a cup of coffee to my night table, and the gun metal casing of this invention is chilly, but still Steve, with almost God like vision, you brought us closer in ways prior unimagined. So baby, shut it down, turn me on, make me warm for real, glide your now practiced fingertips on my grizzled cheek, whisper a phony "ugh," cause I know, you will read this iPad love poem and cherish us for evermore. Nothing, something, even as thin as my iPad 2(!) will come between us and the holiness, the uniqueness of the human touch. 2011
0
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
iPad Love
iPad Love 4:49 AM, and by the light of the silvery moon and our iPad screens turned down low, we snuggle side by side, our fingers glide so softly upon each, each of our own devices, this technique, it could be an app, teaching how to caress a human being. No need to tell you in sound, out loud, how you turn my heart upside down, I'll just post a note of appreciation on Facebook, you will see it faster, and besides, you got your earphones on and could not hear my sweet nothings if I screamed them in high definition. The newspaper arrives on the electric "doorstep" - no longer will do we venture outside in pink bathrobes and curlers, or boxer shorts, a legal gesture of neighborly disdain. Americana, losing another icon, as well as insuring the unemployment of thousands of newspaper deliverers, boys and girls, on bicycles, their first job, now obsolescent. Your feet, so cozy and warm, touching mine, the sensation, lovely and fine, duly recorded in a poem that on my iPad I scribble, as my typos disappear, out of sight. your ear, I nibble, something you hate and I love, but electronically, it's done with no fuss or muss, and I don't even have to move! Sadly, I can find no app that will bring the warmth of a cup of coffee to my night table, and the gun metal casing of this invention is chilly, but still Steve, with almost God like vision, you brought us closer in ways prior unimagined. So baby, shut it down, turn me on, make me warm for real, glide your now practiced fingertips on my grizzled cheek, whisper a phony "ugh," cause I know, you will read this iPad love poem and cherish us for evermore. Nothing, something, even as thin as my iPad 2(!) will come between us and the holiness, the uniqueness of the human touch. 2011
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41
Stress Jeden Tag Stress Ich kann nicht mehr Es ist 5 Uhr morgens Mein Wecker klingelt Ich will aber noch weiterschlafen Mindesten noch 5 Minuten Das geht aber nicht Sonst verpass ich noch den Bus Ich komm an Wieder Schule Ich kann nicht mehr Es reicht Ich hab kein Bock Ich muss aber durchziehen Nur noch 2 Jahre Dann bin ich endlich fertig Dann zieh ich endlich weg Aber dann geh ich in die Uni Ich weiß nicht mal was ich studieren will Noch mehr Stress Und danach? Arbeiten Arbeiten bis ich sterbe Wieder Stress Vielleicht sogar noch mehr Man kann dem stress nicht entgehen Oder? Kann ich dagegen was machen? Kann ich den Stress ausweichen? Nein Das geht nicht Denn Stress bleibt Es ist so wie ein Kaugummi den man nicht abbekommt Es ist so wie ein Monster das dir hinter läuft Es ist Stress
0
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
Stress
Yesterday night I was there on a bus. Road was jammed and was a muss. Bus was empty, travelers were few. Amidst the jam it crawled through. Soon I got curious about two old chaps; Sitting on seats marked 'for handicaps'. They were different from common folk. Without making any sound they spoke. To talk some sign language they used. I didn't understand and was confused. Different ****** expression they made. Lips and hands moved, heads swayed. With hand they wrote on other's hand. They savvied but I didn't understand. On the next stoppage halted the bus. Holding each other both left without fuss. I looked but my vision came to a naught; Mind got occupied with their thought. Many languages recognized and known. But their language had beauty of its own.
0
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Yesterday on bus
My name is bill, no capitalization, required, the Writer will be ill, soon, once he gets me, or my friends in the mail, my cousin e bill. Won’t be far behind, a marvel of technology! I am famed and legendary, but be wary, we attack in groups and bunches and don’t rely on hunches that you settled with us. We don’t make a fuss or a muss, we will cut off your cable, and internet, see? Hydro and Natural Gas you can ill afford to miss, we do pay dates, instead of play dates. So if you don’t pay up we are through with you, hope you can find your self in the dark, call us and we will talk until your cell phone loses power or they drop your call from their towering collection. So with affection, from us named bill, make a plan and a will, to pay us on time, after all it is your dime, until it is ours, all ours. You can take that to the bank, but we will do it for you too! Save you the trip... signed the bills P.S.(we were going to list a few, but we don’t name names, we just collect Presidents and Prime Ministers, they may be dead or royalty, but they are acceptable to faceless nameless ones,called bill(s), Thanks!) ©DWE042013
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
What is in a name (unofficial Ode to bill)
found myself on a greyhound bus travelin far from all that muss them lonely hearts them angry cops them vacant eyes them burned out shops that dark cold city sure ain't pretty too many jail cells too many private hells too many bloodshot mornings too many deaf eared warnings not enough to keep me here not enough of that free beer never enough  dope to shoot not enough  in pirate loot not enough warm pillow dreams no thread left to sew my seams not enough to keep believing not enough... i think i'm leaving just too manny worn out souls count my toes to count the holes run down on empty gotta get my fill lookin for another pint to spill sippin on some stolen ***** i got nothin left to lose sleepin under concrete bridges shivering and cold as fridges chipped teeth and blood stains on my shirt Aww hell i'm fine it didn't hurt spare change for whiskey root beer chase and hopes to get between her lace first kisses and them pretty lies crumble into last goodbyes the laughter fades the raindrops burn on open road the wheels turn i got two thumbs i'll level one and i'll ride off into the sun...
0
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
RAVEN SONG
Liebe ist nur ein Gefühl, doch verspricht sie uns so viel. Sie steht für Freude und Zusammensein, denn niemand fühlt sich gern allein. Ein Gefühl das dir die Lücke füllt, und dich mit Glücklichkeit umhüllt. Wenn miteinander schweigen, für Ewigkeiten reichen, Und alles rund um dich herum, wirkt so unnötig und dumm. Denn das einzige was zählt ist, dass dich keine Sorge quält. Doch auch bei so viel Positivem Vergiss niemals das Negative. Denn Liebe kann enttäuschend sein, betrügerisch und fälschlich schein‘. Liebe kann zwar so viel geben Doch genauso schnell die Hoffnung nehmen. Liebe füllt dir oft dein Herz, doch genauso oft mit Schmerz. Liebe muss nicht böse sein, doch auch die Liebe ist nicht rein. Pass nur gut auf, auf was du tust, dann läufts auch mit der Liebe gut.
0
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 8:34 AM UTC
Liebe - ein Gedicht
Alles, was bleibt, ist ein Riss, genau in der Mitte des Seins. Lass mich nicht die sein, die an allen Standpunkten teilhaben muss, nicht die, die mit Stift und Worten Angst zu bekämpfen vermag, nicht die, die sich im- mer brav rechts auf den Weg hält, die, deren Blick immer Fremdens Füße begutachten, nicht die, die sich ohne eine Tasse Koffein wachhalten versucht, die, die überhaupt nur zu den traurigen Songs tanzt, die, deren Herz sich nur schwer erwärmen lässt, die, mit den melancholischen Augen den Raum er- misst Someone taught me to be me - Es sind die Kämpfe mit meinem Selbst, die sich in meine Haut gebrannt haben, die Angst vor höheren Mächten, die meine Augenringe abzeichnen, es ist das große Vielleicht von dir, dass mich zittern lässt.
0
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
I; the shortest word with the longest story
Gäbe es keine weitere Wörter zum Sprechen , kann ich noch deine Schönheit beschmieren? Würde der Wind nicht mehr wehen, wem muss ich die Sehnsucht anvertrauen? Könnte das Herz nicht mehr sprechen, können die Tränen dir zugehen? Würde dein Dasein nicht in meinem Leben existeren, kann ich noch in jemanden verliebt sein?
0
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
Wenn...
Miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today Sadly , miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today She's so sorry to be delayed But last night At lover's lane instead of being faithful , she strayed Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today When she got up from her dream Discovered her man had tasted her sweetness and gone Sadly, she ran after him And made it his final earthly time to play And from her chic matching outfit She fired that first bullet into his chest Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today Than the cops came and put on the cuffs Read her rights calmly with no muss or fuss She served ten years  right away Used the long years of time to think and pray And not long after her release miss lee died Few folks were at the graveside to cry Sadly , miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
Miss Lee Regrets By Victor Tripp
Ich habe es satt am Leben in dieser Welt zu sein. Ich habe es satt im Sozialkreise zu laufen. Ich habe es satt falsch zu sein auch wann ich ruhig bleibe. Ich bin in meinen Mitmensch bitter enttäuscht und habe keine Lust mehr ihm zu vergeben. Sie gehen immer zu weit. Ich bin mehr Wohl gesinnt gewesen als sie je verdient gehabt haben. Ich muss ebenso geduldig warten.
0
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Frustrations seem to mount like the Himalayas; perpetual, gradual.
Your eyes send impulses that traverse the convoluted muss that started as a single point, maybe then spindling outwards then inwards, still so much that I couldn't reach you there until they founded the internet and you sat breathing in some fashion, possibly, mousing your way here, now.
0
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
Pointless
I think that a Bar-B-Q is an extension of a guys manliness. Or manhood. Now before all of you start disagreeing with me, listen to this blondes logic. When a man goes to purchase a grill There are many factors a man has to take into consideration. And they are, in this order, as follow: 1. Propane vs. Charcoal and Charcoal Fluid 2. The size of the grill 3. Rotisserie? 4. Accessories 5. Bar-B-Q covers Let us take each consideration in turn. Propane vs. Charcoal and Charcoal Fluid. Propane men: Some men want instant gratification.  Twist a **** or two, push a button here and instant heat.  Give it a few minutes to build to the right temperature and BAM!  In with the meat.  Once done, turn a **** or two and walk away.  No muss.  No fuss. Charcoal men: Other men are more inclined to take their time.  savor the experience.  They enjoy watching the flames build and turn into a glowing bed of meat searing heat.  When everything is just right, they gently place the meat.  They stand gaurd over it.  Tending to it.  Every once in a while poking it to test if it's ready.  These same men will sometimes sit snuggled around the glowing embers afterwards.  Watching the heat fade and cool.  Then they will ask their woman they had served  "How'd you like your steak babe?" Charcoal Fluid And Men: Some men should never be allowed near a Bar-B-Q that requires something to stimulate the flames.  It always ends in disaster and or injury. Size Of The Bar-B-Q: O.K.  Now this is a touchy subject for most men.  It has been known to cause envy, jealousy and has broken up a marriage or two.  Men think bigger is better. When buying a Bar-B-Q , a man thinks about; cooking area, the possible need for side burners, portability, and the all important factor of presentation.  That's right.  How will it look to the neighbors and guests?  Will they be properly impressed with it? Also, can it handle the extra meat when company comes over?  Heaven forbid it should let him down and make him look foolish. Rotisserie: This is an important decision.  Does having your meat spin make it better?  I think that this is more of an individual decision. Accessories: Now we have reached a critical point.  How to accessorize.  Of course, every man needs the right equipment to ensure success.  And all of the tools need to have a long reach and be durable. Tongs, fork, knife, spatula, basting brush. Some men even splurge and go for a flavor injector.  Now that's a man who cares about his meat. Bar-B-Q Cover: Finally we reach the last consideration a man has to make.  To cover or not to cover? Men!  Always, with out fail, should cover.  It is for their own protection.  And it shows you care. Thank you.
0
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
Men And Thier Bar-B-Q's
I think that a Bar-B-Q is an extension of a guys manliness. Or manhood. Now before all of you start disagreeing with me, listen to this blondes logic. When a man goes to purchase a grill There are many factors a man has to take into consideration. And they are, in this order, as follow: 1. Propane vs. Charcoal and Charcoal Fluid 2. The size of the grill 3. Rotisserie? 4. Accessories 5. Bar-B-Q covers Let us take each consideration in turn. Propane vs. Charcoal and Charcoal Fluid. Propane men: Some men want instant gratification.  Twist a **** or two, push a button here and instant heat.  Give it a few minutes to build to the right temperature and BAM!  In with the meat.  Once done, turn a **** or two and walk away.  No muss.  No fuss. Charcoal men: Other men are more inclined to take their time.  savor the experience.  They enjoy watching the flames build and turn into a glowing bed of meat searing heat.  When everything is just right, they gently place the meat.  They stand gaurd over it.  Tending to it.  Every once in a while poking it to test if it's ready.  These same men will sometimes sit snuggled around the glowing embers afterwards.  Watching the heat fade and cool.  Then they will ask their woman they had served  "How'd you like your steak babe?" Charcoal Fluid And Men: Some men should never be allowed near a Bar-B-Q that requires something to stimulate the flames.  It always ends in disaster and or injury. Size Of The Bar-B-Q: O.K.  Now this is a touchy subject for most men.  It has been known to cause envy, jealousy and has broken up a marriage or two.  Men think bigger is better. When buying a Bar-B-Q , a man thinks about; cooking area, the possible need for side burners, portability, and the all important factor of presentation.  That's right.  How will it look to the neighbors and guests?  Will they be properly impressed with it? Also, can it handle the extra meat when company comes over?  Heaven forbid it should let him down and make him look foolish. Rotisserie: This is an important decision.  Does having your meat spin make it better?  I think that this is more of an individual decision. Accessories: Now we have reached a critical point.  How to accessorize.  Of course, every man needs the right equipment to ensure success.  And all of the tools need to have a long reach and be durable. Tongs, fork, knife, spatula, basting brush. Some men even splurge and go for a flavor injector.  Now that's a man who cares about his meat. Bar-B-Q Cover: Finally we reach the last consideration a man has to make.  To cover or not to cover? Men!  Always, with out fail, should cover.  It is for their own protection.  And it shows you care. Thank you.
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33
Ditch ewe sea Mai poem? Eye sore year phlegm on yootoob! Knot of ill my mean, Ice awe yore fitty oh on yewtwoob! No won you sis Phil mini moor... Aisle Ike did the Bell eve id Dio. **** wear wuss aye at? Cuss ein owe fur sheer. God Knowed out debt Hugh phlegmed me giddy Nth arc are! Wail? Watt Chew say a bow to that? Weight. Whole Don. Dead Yew sin sir writ? Sense err meow tough fit? High share open aught! Bay bee! Hi muss tar!!!
0
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Yessed Ear
Miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today She's so sorry to be delayed But last night instead of going home , at lover's lane she strayed Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today When she got up from her dream Discovered her man had used the act selfishly it seems Sadly, she ran after him, and that led to his final day And from her matching outfit she fired that first bullet into his chest Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today Than the cops came and put on the cuffs Read her rights calmly with no muss or fuss She served ten years right away Used the long years of time to think and pray And not long after her release miss lee died Few folks were at the graveside to cry Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
Miss Lee Regrets By Victor Tripp
"Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darueber muss man schweigen." Young, we understand the world, but not ourselves. Old, we understand ourselves, but not the world. Between falls the mysterious and baffling substance of our lives. Confusion marks any real life of consciousness. Certainty is the lie we believe in to smooth the transition. Death is the period that punctuates the end of our sentence, when we finally know what we really know in silence.
0
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 6:25 AM UTC
Epistemological Conundrum
Kaincha tok normal, ever sangle wunnaya? Omina tellya diss. Nuthin lie kat is good. Alla us oiz tok English good allatime Ever day uhda world in mah neighborhood. Us is sum, y’know, good tokken people. Yeah, ain’t nobuddy speaks good lie cuss. Lessen there from round here, ah mean. We got eddycated good, no muss, no fuss. We don’t need no college, no way Jose. We gunna do jess lock are parents did. We go to school every day till eitghteen Jess lock dey did win dey was a kid. Ever now and then, you can get ahold Of sum buddy whose totally iggnent. They stick there noses up in thuh air. They think there better, sumthin differnt. But really, it’s just a mute point, I mean Irregardless of whut they bin sayin’ They jess turn stuff round 360 degrees. It’s jess a nother word game there playin’. Thuh important thang is to be understood Not that thuh people say everthang rite. The important stuff to tok about is To know whut is wrong and whut is rite.
0
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
PLAIN SPEAKIN'
Miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today She's so sorry to be delayed But last night instead of going home , she strayed Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today When she got up from her dream Discovered her man had hit and run so it seemed Sadly, she ran after him and treated him to his final day And from her matching outfit She fired that first bullet into his chest Sadly, miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today Than the cops came to put on the cuffs Read her rights calmly with no muss or fuss She served ten years right away Used the long years of time to think and pray And not long after her release miss lee did die Few folks were at the graveside to even cry Sadly,miss lee regrets She's unable to dine today
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
Miss Lee Regrets By Victor Tripp
Sah ein Mädchen ein Röslein stehen Blühte dort in lichten Höhen Sprach sie ihren Liebsten an ob er es ihr steigen kann Sie will es und so ist es fein So war es und so wird es immer sein Sie will es und so ist es Brauch Was sie will bekommt sie auch Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben wenn man klares Wasser will Rosenrot oh Rosenrot Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin Sie will es und so ist es fein So war es und so wird es immer sein Sie will es und so ist es Brauch Was sie will bekommt sie auch Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben wenn man klares Wasser will Rosenrot oh Rosenrot Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still An seinen Stiefeln bricht ein Stein Will nicht mehr am Felsen sein Und ein Schrei tut jedem kund Beide fallen in den Grund Sie will es und so ist es fein So war es und so wird es immer sein Sie will es und so ist es Brauch Was sie will bekommt sie auch Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben wenn man klares Wasser will Rosenrot oh Rosenrot Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still --
0
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
Rosenrot - Rammstein
i believe we all have in our lives a crazy love consumed too late or too early too fast or too slow. we all have that love that will always stay there no matter what whose remnants won't be able to be erased no matter what. it is like a scar from childhood which will remind you of that fall... there will be other men each of them will hold my hand they will muss my hair each in their own way and they will all laugh at they way i sleep. each in a different way. i will probably live with each of them a late 20 of July or i will maybe meet them every time in an empty intersection at midnight. and will possibly wear the same clothes the same flowery top the same shoes or we will run foolishly under the same umbrella. i will have a particular ritual with each of them we might drink tea instead of coffee, or we won't drink anything, or on the contrary, we might drink too much. or we will smoke like Turks. maybe we will quit smoking. we might ride our bikes every day or go out rollerskating or maybe i will get my driver's licence i will drive one of those old Beetles. we will listen to the same riotous band we will sway on the same songs and maybe then he will hold me in his arms the same way. and so what? everything will be the same but in a totally different way. with someone else. always someone else and not him. it is that love that made you fly and then slammed you to the ground for a few times without thinking about anything and then it repeated the process for a few times and then it left you like this hovering between sky and earth. adrift. it is that love which is agony and ****** in the same time and... it is that love that has left a scar in your soul and whatever you would do you can't forget it. and you hope that this time, maybe. but it's not working. it's that love...
0
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
that love...
i believe we all have in our lives a crazy love consumed too late or too early too fast or too slow. we all have that love that will always stay there no matter what whose remnants won't be able to be erased no matter what. it is like a scar from childhood which will remind you of that fall... there will be other men each of them will hold my hand they will muss my hair each in their own way and they will all laugh at they way i sleep. each in a different way. i will probably live with each of them a late 20 of July or i will maybe meet them every time in an empty intersection at midnight. and will possibly wear the same clothes the same flowery top the same shoes or we will run foolishly under the same umbrella. i will have a particular ritual with each of them we might drink tea instead of coffee, or we won't drink anything, or on the contrary, we might drink too much. or we will smoke like Turks. maybe we will quit smoking. we might ride our bikes every day or go out rollerskating or maybe i will get my driver's licence i will drive one of those old Beetles. we will listen to the same riotous band we will sway on the same songs and maybe then he will hold me in his arms the same way. and so what? everything will be the same but in a totally different way. with someone else. always someone else and not him. it is that love that made you fly and then slammed you to the ground for a few times without thinking about anything and then it repeated the process for a few times and then it left you like this hovering between sky and earth. adrift. it is that love which is agony and ****** in the same time and... it is that love that has left a scar in your soul and whatever you would do you can't forget it. and you hope that this time, maybe. but it's not working. it's that love...
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78
A novelist of aces Behind the cover of abstract designs It gets deeper than what is behind eyes Enclosed is a map only the two of us could understand Certain minds are condemned by the world But the keys your fingers stretch to reach steal the breath from my airways The grammar is skewed but it’s all the same   Boiling beneath your skin What’s been refused to pass your lips Weak tongues won’t form the letters written on our souls You and I, We’re just ignorant to the nonfiction cloaked between these lines Like Beethoven’s last quartet, Muss es sein? Es muss sein! Es muss sein! (C) Tiffanie Doro
0
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
The last quartet
I'm lying on my bed and Green Day is singing, I'm drinking my tea and sometimes i'm thinking. Dreaming about the time when we'll be together, If you left me alone tell me i'll go to where? My cat is sleeping early today as always, I've tried to walk to you with the all ways. But you burned down every bridge between us, You gone away and now i'm totally in muss.
0
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC
Single Night
Das brennende Herz Ich liebe dich. Ich blute dich. Ich beobachten Ihren jeden Atemzug. können wir immer weglaufen, bis nichts mehr übrig. Lassen Sie uns gehen weg für immer, können wir in der Samt Mond tanzen. Ich werde dich halten. Ich werde dich küssen Bis meine zitternden Lippen blau. können Sie Ihr Zuhause in dem Feuer meines Herzens finden oder Sie können mich mit dieser sengenden lange stare brennen Ich brauche dich. Ich werde Verzweiflung. Ich werde Sie Schlaganfall. Auf der Wange so weich und langsam. Aber ich will nicht das Gefühl, die Liebe, die Sie tun, Ich werde mit kaltem gefüllt werden. Ich werde bis zum Tod zu springen. Ich halte den Atem an. Wenn das alles was man braucht um dir zu gefallen. Also sag mir, Liebling, was Sie wollen, was muss ich tun? Sie sehen unsere Liebe ist ein brennendes Herz. Ich brauche es. Ich hasse es. Schmerz, aber notwendig von Anfang an.
0
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
The Burning Heart (German)
We fumbled some, We Technology fools. One more new thing to sort out, and learn. Then there you were looking back at me in real time, Your face devoid of makeup, hair a muss, Still Beautiful as always. My face top right, smaller then yours, smiling. Looking slightly embarrassed. Hand holding the devices, made it feel we were at sea. How very strange and yet wonderful it all seemed. Some real 21st Century **** Star Trekking it, as it were. Two old "Face Time" virgins. Laughing and flirting, like teen age kids.
0
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
Call Me