"niches" poems
AllVideosAppsImagesNewsMoreSearch tools
About 358,000,000 results (0.35 seconds)
Search Results
Free **** Videos & *** Movies - ***** *** **** Tube ...
www.pornhub.com/
Free **** *** videos & ***** movies. **** hub is the ultimate *** porn,sex and ***** tube, download *** videos or stream free *** and free *** movies.
Categories - Teen - Pornstars - ****
Free **** Videos! PORN.COM, *** ***** Tube! HD ...
www.porn.com/
Free **** mega site! Hourly updates! Watch unlimited ***** videos! Watch Live **** Cams or Upload your own videos to PORN.COM! Offering incredibility ...
**** Videos, *** Movies, *** ***** Free **** Tube ...
www.youporn.com/
YouPorn is your home for free *** **** videos. Watch unlimited, high quality HD **** entirely free! Enjoy the sexiest ***** with the hottest naked girls on ...
Free **** *** Videos - Redtube - *** Movies - Home of ...
www.redtube.com/
RedTube brings you new free **** videos every day. Watch great *** *** videos and ****** at the best free ***** and **** tube site on the web.
Free **** *** Tube Videos, *** Pics, ***** in ***** ...
www.xnxx.com/
XNXX delivers free *** movies and fast free **** videos (tube **** Now 1 million+ *** vids available for free! Featuring hot ***** **** girls in *** rated **** ...
Free **** *** Tube Videos - New *** videos - Best *** videos - Hot!
**** videos - XVIDEOS.COM
www.xvideos.com/tags/porn
(31 min) **** quality: 99%. Connecticut **** Gets ****** 0061. (1 min 30 sec) **** quality: 98%. Playgirl with large curves adores *** (7 min) **** quality: 99 ...
Free **** Videos & *** ***** *** Movies, **** Tube and ...
https://www.tnaflix.com/
Free **** *** videos & ***** movies. TNAFlix is the ultimate *** **** *** and ******** tube, free ***** movies. Download free *** videos and **** movies.
**** a public health crisis? Utah state senator thinks so ...
www.foxnews.com/.../porn-public-health-crisis-utah-...
Fox News Channel
1 day ago - The divorce lawyer turned politician said he's not trying to impose morals on anyone but simply making people aware of porn's perils.
***** Movies. Free **** films. *** Clips online here!
www.pornolaba.com/
All ***** Movies Here. The sheer number of ***** movies that this website has is enough to keep you busy for months to come. It's got niches you never ...
Cliti - Free **** Tubes
www.cliti.com/?lid=1
Full Free **** Tube Movies & DVDs - Cliti. ... Free **** Categories A - Z. #. 10+ Inch Cock39764 · 18 Year Old20051 · 19 Year Old8064 · 3D50789 · 3D Monster ...
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
Your fingernails give away the debris you've collected
I've known you for a while but it feels like longer
feels like sunsets under my tongue
blue bruises behind my eyes
every skip of the needle brings back our old skins &
the hush-hush type of self worth,
keeping pens full of red ink so we can
play the demon in this one instead
of closing the door, we don't wanna gossip
at the edge of the room like strangers,
we wanna be in the center
and your fingerprints look a lot like mine sometimes, especially when we laugh and cry together
especially when you fall asleep and I watch
for soft signs of openmouthed breathing that signal
we are in deeper than we thought.
I can't stand the way you look at yourself though, sometimes I wanna
run away from everyone here
sometimes I wanna just up and leave it all
in a shallow grave where it belongs,
but the moments are softer when you slip my name onto your cotton tongue,
and I don't punch out a pattern for my self loathing quite as quickly when
we tally up our thread counts and what time we have left
together.
Inevitably, I still paint my teeth black,
because words about my future never felt right coming from my pink and purple mouth
but your lips could twist anything up into a lot of sense,
I could kiss you and **** time forever
in parking lots and on the edges of stained mattresses
I didn't ever want a home until I thought of hanging up your colors to dry
keep them here in the niches or
scrawled onto notepads I keep beside my bed,
put down your demon scripts and ask me in the morning
if it takes a while for seeds to grow,
I'll tell you to keep a can of water nearby
and to make sure it's somewhere sunny
I know there's something foreign growing in me and it's
bigger than I've ever been,
but I think maybe you know and
it's bigger than both of us, maybe
you know and
you've been doing some growing, too.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
Somebody is shooting at something in our town --
A dull pom, pom in the Sunday street.
Jealousy can open the blood,
It can make black roses.
Who are the shooting at?
It is you the knives are out for
At Waterloo, Waterloo, Napoleon,
The **** of Elba on your short back,
And the snow, marshaling its brilliant cutlery
Mass after mass, saying Shh!
Shh! These are chess people you play with,
Still figures of ivory.
The mud squirms with throats,
Stepping stones for French bootsoles.
The gilt and pink domes of Russia melt and float off
In the furnace of greed. Clouds, clouds.
So the swarm ***** and deserts
Seventy feet up, in a black pine tree.
It must be shot down. Pom! Pom!
So dumb it thinks bullets are thunder.
It thinks they are the voice of God
Condoning the beak, the claw, the grin of the dog
Yellow-haunched, a pack-dog,
Grinning over its bone of ivory
Like the pack, the pack, like everybody.
The bees have got so far. Seventy feet high!
Russia, Poland and Germany!
The mild hills, the same old magenta
Fields shrunk to a penny
Spun into a river, the river crossed.
The bees argue, in their black ball,
A flying hedgehog, all prickles.
The man with gray hands stands under the honeycomb
Of their dream, the hived station
Where trains, faithful to their steel arcs,
Leave and arrive, and there is no end to the country.
Pom! Pom! They fall
Dismembered, to a tod of ivy.
So much for the charioteers, the outriders, the Grand Army!
A red tatter, Napoleon!
The last badge of victory.
The swarm is knocked into a cocked straw hat.
Elba, Elba, bleb on the sea!
The white busts of marshals, admirals, generals
Worming themselves into niches.
How instructive this is!
The dumb, banded bodies
Walking the plank draped with Mother France's upholstery
Into a new mausoleum,
An ivory palace, a crotch pine.
The man with gray hands smiles --
The smile of a man of business, intensely practical.
They are not hands at all
But asbestos receptacles.
Pom! Pom! 'They would have killed me.'
Stings big as drawing pins!
It seems bees have a notion of honor,
A black intractable mind.
Napoleon is pleased, he is pleased with everything.
O Europe! O ton of honey!
7.8k
Dust flowers up from the Chilton County dusk
Rust is flaking off the pickup that has a skunk musk
Bullet , the blue tick hound from your sleeve pulls it
Could it be another hot day in August , would it ?
Peaches have last month gone to fill the niches
Beaches at the river are low , full of leeches
Summertime in Alabama is a long ******
Funnier than that song , swing low number
Gathering distant dark blue clouds that are a mattering
Battering thunder rolling , lightning shattering
Huge drops splattering on clay so Rouge
Deluge now soaking , coming down like a luge
Passing with one loud Crack blasting
Massing clouds now are just in a fasting
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
when my time comes
it comes
and I will gladly leave
to those who go on living
the task of sorting out
the mess I have accumulated
over years
let them discover
not only the stamp collection
the bank accounts
but also unknown niches
of their father’s/friend’s/husband’s life
the words unspoken
scribbled on some paper
thoughts never shared
for lack of time or opportunity
the letters to a friend of yore
emails to many people
hints of potential
love affairs that maybe never happened
ideas to change the world
into a better place
here I am
now with a 7 before my years
envisioning life after death
a sign of vanity
perhaps
or an expression of despair
I am not sure
it may just be
the fleeting thoughts
on a clear winter evening
when cold creeps slowly
but insistently
into your bones
reminding you
of all that cold space
in our universe
how it grows larger by the second
making you wonder
if it has a plan
and if that plan
includes you
speculating
about your destiny
* * *
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
UNDERDOG RAP
We are a population which is
Awaiting loaves and the fishes
And other unfulfilled wishes;
No chance to know what rich is,
While graduates are digging ditches
Immigrant PhDs are doing dishes.
Never quite knowing which is
Snake oil salesmen pitches.
Politicians too big for their britches.
Fools don’t know where the hitch is
Whatever the larcenous pitch is;
Reacting with kneejerk twitches
Due to governmental glitches.
And creeps like that guy Mitch is
Are rapacious sons of *******
Hunting for Democratic witches
In all the freedom fighting niches
With hearts as black as pitch is.
And the rich have a wish list
In which they scratch their itches
Regardless of what our ***** is
By wallowing in stolen riches
Punishing watchdogs snitches.
Politicians too big for their britches.
We are a population which is
Awaiting loaves and the fishes
And other unfulfilled wishes.
No chance to know what rich is.
Brent Kincaid
March 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
he makes me feel like beyonce,
volumptous and wanted,
like he'd wanna be the blanket to hold all my curves.
and he takes control when im too nervous to even breathe,
and my backs to him but i dont feel the need to look behind me to see if he'll catch up because he... he's already there
he holds me tender,
and sometimes he grasps like his afraid id leave him, almost like i could slip through his arms.
i poke fun at the gentle men tendicies he attributes to his mum,
sometimes though i wonder if i can trust him
i wonder if he s real
and maybe im just used to the more rough around the edges, fake it till you can take it, and when you got it drop it -love con artists that steal away moments of your life like bites
off your aorta
But you're smooth babe and rounded fitting into all my weird niches
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
as a child i had a sense of before
i only a tenant in this world
i dreamt, i remembered
a place of light and freedom
of flying weightless
without a care
recurring reveries
of changeless drifting
but as i got older
my astral excursions
turned to thin air
much to hearts despair
i fell weighted to this terrestrial sphere
by thickened accumulations
of hard niches and obscurations
a delicate spark burdened
by sheaths of gnawing reason
engulfed in brutish struggle
at times
i obsessed
aching to go
back from where i came
maybe stepping in front of a speeding car
desperate to get home
where the dead
live it up
cadaverous child
a strewn tangle of little limbs
broken
on a country highway
who made a hard sacrifice
for a bigger life
where the very sensation of existence
was a floating ecstasy
like an atomized cloud puff
where the dead
are not dead at all
but enchanted children
living
with faces like suns
on the other-side of the looking glass
feet to the stars
in the arms of heaven
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
i.
Alleluia, I proclaim, six month's it hath been, an eternestial
Keep. None need for word's to cometh out of mine mouth and lips, none need for mine sight to peep. For now; soundly do I sleep. Slumbering in mine dulcet Jane's deepest desires and wishes.
ii.
Every fibril of mineself, shalt be tucked away in her niches, warm and cozy therein I wilt abode; I wouldst selleth all possessions, to be next to her, though I knoweth patience hath
Us on hold.
iii.
In the meanwhile, we shalt cosmogyral, ground to air, a many whilsts. Creshinta lovenairs, O' another six month's wilt cometh again. A lifetime I looketh forward to, kindred spirit, best friend.
iv.
I will not cease, from building upon thee ourn bedrock, thus the ticking hand tick's away, and the minutes betray the clock's. In heaven amour, is where we do belong, with melodious angel's singing hymn's; and saint's to play ourn song. We wilt forever be, six month's from now, six year's, six generation's, six hundred fear's, six-thousand kisses, six million glares, six billon glimpses, of thee mine wife and me all ourn lives. In matrimonial bozeere.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
aromatic coffee awakens senses
midst the gestured warmth of radiant
smiles's 'tween morning brew,
reverently paused to catch
the awe inspiring poignancy
of sunrise's exhilaration,
whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl
of captivating poetry's skillful delectation
a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,
tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness
enlightening sensibilities as it
enriches the day's appreciation
'pon the keen awareness of poets,
tempests from all niches of the world
coming together amid upheavals and serenity,
ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations
of words expressly borne, communing the
artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,
procuring special collective bonds that
only poesy can wholly dictate,
they look upon us as enigmas
rather strange breed of puzzling characters,
as this inexplicable endeavor
escapes their stifled perceptions
of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile,
we're merely cognitive passages for
experiences on common ground
in realizations of all-too-human foibles
eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude,
released deliverance of potpourri
serving up inky joy beyond expression,
intention's distinction deciphering
reflections in meditative affirmations,
breadth of unrestrained beholden visions
conjured notions of paramount significance
wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings,
beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences
wept in resolute celebrations of existence
as only a poet could discernibly translate
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Earth: our ominous all-mother,
she, the greater good:
the interminable fountain out of which stems life and vivacity itself
always reaching
and grasping for the abstruse azure heavens above.
her hair never stops growing. the mites and parasites never cease to fester her scalp. She is growing and changing and rotting and dying. but where death comes, there is no long interval until more
life.
the liveliness is everywhere; it promotes to all faces and regions and niches. Multiplying, begetting, propagating. all for the greater good of our orb and its inhabitants. Most dwellers are humble and solicitous toward her, and learn to keep a vigilant eye
as she can be so
forceful and violent.
She does have, however, one rascal who believes that the globe belongs all to Himself.
He is the man.
He has a masterful gift, yes. He is profound and competent. He forges the impractical query into a conclusive answer. He, however, is also egocentric and pompous, and He sees her as a specimen to which
He has the rights to dismember and pervert.
He makes a mess of her unique vistas. He tramples and stamps on her face, running about as if she were the coliseum in which the gods gather to view the Species fight itself to extinction. He works her to the
core, always asking for more, more, more, more,
until she has little left to give.
But she never loses courage in His asinine and moronic views and His sprawling village,
for she created Him
out of herself
she is the framework out of which the mind is able to mundanely manifest itself.
Without her, He would be nothing.
And she is so immeasurably loving and benevolently caring and forevermore giving; for
She is life, she is love.
We are love.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
In the velvet dark that holds all dreams,
A thousand hopes are given flighted chance.
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.
A gentle ashen pallor moonlight reams;
A billion shadowed niches seem to dance
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams.
A bluish glow though leafy vellum seams
Can thread its way through thick and wooden lance.
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.
And oh! the silken light above that streams,
Dissolving all the hundred million "can't"s
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams.
The night that's holding precious breath, it teems
With broken vows, inconsequential rants;
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.
The wish for what is come to be, it seems,
Envelopes friendships, hopeful romance.
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams,
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
Come to me by the moonlight, Beloved,
While the stars shine down this dark well
deep in the wilderness of my heart.
Come and draw the bucket, Beloved,
lift some sorrow slowly; take it away with you,
Empty this well a little, by the moonlight.
Smile as you turn from the well, Beloved,
As your shadow curls around the niches,
Let the bucketful of emptiness come back to me.
Each drop you take from this heart, Beloved,
Why does it always remain in here?
Why does it stay with me, still?
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC
I am aggravated ether
in the moment
so I can't sleep on it
enigma dramatic
bathed in acid & oil
& all the clouds in the sky
are mostly smoke
blown in consoling faces
dole full in the wasteland.
dam & sire fanning the fire
in the furnace
lighted up for days.
they didn't know it could
turn around & burn us.
oh but,
I'm not learned enough.
all the **** while I'm
taking it all in.
three sixty, panorama.
light a ******* candle
& put me up on the mantle
when the mainframe scrambles
&don;'t let me down til
they've figured out time travel.
I won't have any of this.
still in my soul I am savagery.
& these bad *** habits
are all tragedies
considering the fact
that I can make magic
if I see it fitting
to the situation.
which doesn't clique
with certain niches,
they get kinda ******
...they shouldn't.
it's all ******** anyway.
sun slivers.
new day.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
Raindrops on
My windowsill
Race down
Paths that
Light trace for it,
Faint slants
Which carve
Niches for
The innocent—
Mornings which
Cough faintly,
Smoke lingering
On her throat
But still singing.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
I don't want to be like ravana
Who always looking for vedavati figure
Never tired searching for a figure who isn't exist anymore in the world
Although vedavati as a body has long gone in the world
But her soul is immortal
Immortal in the niches and minds of ravana
Her name will be eternal in his soul
Either ravana can't forget her
Or
Indeed himself who doesn't want to forget her
Maybe it's too divine to forget her beauty
His real love doesn't belongs to Citrawati, Kausalya, Mandodari, and not also Sita
They just a similar figure to vedavati
His eternal love belongs to vedavati
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
Bottoms of glasses, under ***** caps and vases. In pepper pots, though holes in socks, twixt blooming buds and fasteners. Kitchen’s sink; shades of pink, through willow-wood hearts and:
Behind Polaroid frames and flashbulb flays, measuring pixels and yards and:
In sewing thimbles, between knitting needles; gentle beetles, playing cards and:
Through laddered tights and telephone drawers, on written paper under boarded floors. On cotton shirts caked with dirt and in refuge sacks of reticence begirt. Cushion covers and shopping bags, through electrical wire and sodden rags. Under flower pots, inside sticky locks. In coffee mugs and china cups, Teabags and teaspoons and niches for tee lights. Bottle necks, glass jars, coin dish, cream jugs. Window sills, knife block, light bulbs, plugs. Plate stack, lotion *** saucer, dust. Record slips, ornaments, lamp, clock. Table, chair: drink and sit around it.
I’ve hidden my heart almost everywhere and you still haven’t found it.
Jun 29, 2011
Jun 29, 2011 at 3:14 PM UTC
she wanted to be skinny.
she wanted to ignore the skin on her body
until it hung loosely off her skeleton
like a wrinkled shirt on a hanger
that needed ironing.
she wanted to be a stick
so that she could fit through the
spaces in the dark of trees
and understand how they fed off of
themselves.
she wanted to know what it was like
to have knives instead of collarbones,
carving off the little chunks of fat,
and throwing them to the side, letting the
festering rats devour the residue of
fourteen years of life.
she wanted to have hips that served as
mountains, looking like the alps,
with climbers covered in furs throwing hooks
over the niches in her body.
she wanted a ribcage that would hold
even the mightiest bird, without letting
a single feather breach her defenses,
never letting a ferocious caw escape her,
because she wanted to be thin.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
Dreams take you to unknown lands,
So why not come with me?
For those lands are our destiny.
Dreams take you to places you thought impossible,
Whether to a land of love, sweet, or riches,
You will find me in those niches.
Dreams take you to your fantasy,
So while you search far and wide,
I will not cease to be at your side.
Dreams take you to good fortune,
While you try to find yours,
I’ll be along to open new doors.
Dreams sometimes lead you astray,
If you ever find you’ve fallen off track,
I shall help lead you back.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:44 AM UTC
I can hear his heartbeat beating next to me
Thump-de-thump-de-thump-de-thump
It’s like a drum
Beating to the rhythm of life
I was 13 when I found him.
He was strong
The way he used to stand next to me
Towering, but not quite
He was a tree
A figure of authority
Show of power, confidence, poise
We weren’t the same
Everyone dubbed us ‘the couple’
He was the popular nerd
Always knew the answers to everything
Strong opinions
While I was…well
I was the wallflower
Sheltered and supported by his strong and tall roots
We were young love
A relationship built entirely on chocolate and flirting
The way you could weave your words around me
Like a warm fleece blanket
In the glistening snow
Around the hearth
His arms wrapped strongly around me
Holding me in, but never letting me fall
My hands fit perfectly in his
Always
Like puzzle pieces
Little nooks and niches resting in each other
At the end of a long day
And his eyes
They spoke of the ocean
Waves crashing back onto shore
Coming back to me every time
A clash
The way my chocolate eyes met his candy ones
And I knew that everything would be all right
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
Don’t you wish this feeling could last forever? You know, that feeling you get when things are going good, smooth sailing not a wave in the water to rock the boat. That smile that you want to just hide but you can’t? The feeling of accomplishment because today was just so fantastic you want the feeling to last a lifetime. It’s the feeling. What we strive for from beginning to end it’s all we ever wanted. But why do we encounter it less as we grow older? Do we grow out of feelings like we do our own clothes? One day we are at the peak of Everest the next it’s like we are looking for Atlantis. Sometimes it’s just nowhere to be found, other times it’s hidden in plain sight. We trade what we know and what we have to get a little taste of it. Whether temporary or impermanent we stop at nothing. Forever fades and loses its meaning physically and creates a whole new one for itself because of we; the people. Like a tv show on our favorite network it’s there only for so long then made into copies to be preserved in time, so why can’t we do that? Capture what little happiness we can obtain in a jar and save it for a rainy day? It would be too easy, everyone would do it, might even try to steal each other’s. Is our world sick now? Will we ever find a remedy for this ailment we create ourselves because of addictions and niches? How far will we go to be better than everyone at something that virtually has no meaning? What’s going to happen if we can’t be the best at our little something, **** Nothing seems to add up anymore and I’m sick of it, I hate math. Unless we divide and conquer I think I’m outta here. World peace can never happen until we are all at peace within our own society.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Only a year ago, we were all just kids thinking we held forever at our fingertips.
Invincibility was upon us as we stepped on campus for the first time as students,
Beginning our journeys into the unknown realm of college.
Everything was new and exciting;
Classes, food, activities, clubs, schedules, people…
Remember how we didn’t want to go home?
The best place in the world to be, at the time, seemed like it was right there.
If we left for a second, we would miss the whole planet,
Be left out of the loop for an entire week.
High school seemed too close and too far,
And we were stuck in this limbo where we were not sure how to act.
Running around like tweens out past their curfew,
The upperclassmen were so cool, and calm, and collected…
We aspired to be like them one day,
Copying the way they blended into this campus with so many colors.
And slowly but surely, we have…
Without even realizing it, we have matured worlds, and
Realization has dropped itself into our hands where pixie dust sat before.
Isn’t it funny, now, watching the new group of freshmen repeat the cycle?
Looking back, I thought life was so easy.
The only cares I had in the world were attending class and finishing homework.
Making friends appeared to be simple; keeping them did, as well.
Things seemed to fall into place as if they knew where to be dropped.
Now, we make things happen for ourselves rather than sitting back and watching.
Instead of running aimlessly, we stride with a purpose.
For we know our niches and where we are needed most.
Our eyes sparkle even brighter, I believe,
Because we have found a place where we belong and want to be.
I am waiting now, looking at this group of new kids,
And wondering how long it will be before the change happens to them.
How long will it take for them to realize that home is not such a bad place to be?
As a matter of fact, as I sit here in the room I grew up in,
I feel nothing but nostalgia that makes me want to be nowhere but here.
Here, I have no worries, and I can reflect on this past year and how much I have grown.
Growth. Isn’t that something that we forget about?
Assessing how far we have come over the past twelve or so months?
Because I now see with open eyes, where before, I merely just looked.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
.
Moonlight
creates shadows,
places of magick
and realms of mystery.
Niches beyond the wildest dreams
playing with images in colour dimensions,
pouring their scorn on the childish imagination,
a weakling substitute for what cannot be known.
© Pagan Paul (04/06/18)
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Seattle, so full of angry and bitter memories
Failed love affairs, dreams and careers
Seattle the Black Hole! We call it
Stifling people’s hopes
Raining on everyone’s parade
I am happy for those who are happy here
And I feel for those who are not
Miscommunications fill the air
Much like the *** smoke fills the small niches of building entryways
The streets are flooded with STD’s and STI’s
And all around me I see my friends dying
Dying from drug addictions and failed marriages
Dying from being accused by their own judgmental minds
They are all dying; rotting from the inside
Seattle, the most beautiful hypocritical city I know
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 9:24 PM UTC
I'm interested in the prospect of exponential growth
and often wonder how some people are able to cope
when they find themselves in favour with all the hope
of realised dreams in life due to their efforts or oath.
Or where there has been a sudden increase of wealth
such as those we hear of who rise from rags to riches
for there are many true stories told of people's niches
and the way they have acquired a fortune by stealth.
______________________________
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 11:19 PM UTC