"nicknamed" poems - Hello Poetry

"nicknamed" poems

I wonder if you've noticed, I'm becoming less appealing, Our conversations are getting very... Very, boring... And I wonder if you've noticed, That I'm becoming less appealing. You can tell me, I didn't meant to approach you, It was a decision made in a split second, And it seems like my heart's voice was louder than my brain's then: I'm being honest, My chest was about to explode, My heart was a ticking time bomb And I could only disarm it by giving it a voice, Converting its electric impulses into sound waves. But now, It's been a while since then, And, We're drifting apart... I haven't told you that I nicknamed you zebra because of that cute black and white shirt you had on... Because, I'm scared that would just trigger the slow end of our... Our?! I mean, It will make our friendship awkward. I told my friends I don't like you, But apparently you like me - But, I just have a question, After getting to know me - Ummm... Have I lost my charms, Or are you still googly-eyed over the stupid fifteen year old boy that nearly tripped over his own words as he uttered, "You're very pretty"?

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Mar 13, 2016

Mar 13, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC

Slowly losing interest?

I wonder if you've noticed, I'm becoming less appealing, Our conversations are getting very... Very, boring... And I wonder if you've noticed, That I'm becoming less appealing. You can tell me, I didn't meant to approach you, It was a decision made in a split second, And it seems like my heart's voice was louder than my brain's then: I'm being honest, My chest was about to explode, My heart was a ticking time bomb And I could only disarm it by giving it a voice, Converting its electric impulses into sound waves. But now, It's been a while since then, And, We're drifting apart... I haven't told you that I nicknamed you zebra because of that cute black and white shirt you had on... Because, I'm scared that would just trigger the slow end of our... Our?! I mean, It will make our friendship awkward. I told my friends I don't like you, But apparently you like me - But, I just have a question, After getting to know me - Ummm... Have I lost my charms, Or are you still googly-eyed over the stupid fifteen year old boy that nearly tripped over his own words as he uttered, "You're very pretty"?

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Dear Ashley, Congratulations! Your parents decided to give you one of the most popular names of the 90s! This is your letter of introduction to being Ashley! However, be informed that your name will not only be just "Ashley". Since it's very common, non-Ashleys will need to differentiate between all of you. You may be nicknamed "Ashley #2" or "Ashley Last Name Initial". Preparing yourself for embarrassment is also essential. Instructors will call out your name, resulting in either you pointing to yourself mouthing, Me? or managing to chirp a "Yes?" in unison with three others, only to feel stupid when it's not you. With a name so stale and boring, you may grow a hatred for it. You will fall in love with unique signatures, wishing they were your own. Over and over again, you will fantasize about changing it. Keep in mind that other Ashleys feel the same. At least you can be thankful you weren't named Frances. Sincerely, Ashley P.S. - Although, personalized key chains are easily accessible!

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Dec 15, 2014

Dec 15, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC

To Those Named "Ashley"

Dear Ashley, Congratulations! Your parents decided to give you one of the most popular names of the 90s! This is your letter of introduction to being Ashley! However, be informed that your name will not only be just "Ashley". Since it's very common, non-Ashleys will need to differentiate between all of you. You may be nicknamed "Ashley #2" or "Ashley Last Name Initial". Preparing yourself for embarrassment is also essential. Instructors will call out your name, resulting in either you pointing to yourself mouthing, Me? or managing to chirp a "Yes?" in unison with three others, only to feel stupid when it's not you. With a name so stale and boring, you may grow a hatred for it. You will fall in love with unique signatures, wishing they were your own. Over and over again, you will fantasize about changing it. Keep in mind that other Ashleys feel the same. At least you can be thankful you weren't named Frances. Sincerely, Ashley P.S. - Although, personalized key chains are easily accessible!

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are you generally happy? a semi-innocuous query now actualized as a two sided bladed poker, hot stabbing me smack dab in the chests hollow crown bullseye, continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a “yes” it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that refreshes with every breath; a life long struggle for an accurate definition, be a general of genuine happy, that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction as a human, one operates on parallel continuums; slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years, their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles formed by twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves, marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost, complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words “The End” a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours, reality is shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable and a piece of a peace that comes and goes like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing - the opioids of the mind offers are rejected the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall - the place where the poems come from, and go to die, a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized but never been and never left, the crazy contradictions come in two flavors; vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have etched pathways cheek-chiseled the city is a struggling strife for most, the next red line on the side of the measuring cup and everyone has a cell, a credit card, and a measuring cup <•> here I stop can’t finish someone missing alerts me to their real worlds troubles making my complaints super superficial but the silent running of the stilleto cuts shallow repeated hourly the cut color, pitch black

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May 26, 2018

May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC

pitch-black-god-8

are you generally happy?

are you generally happy? a semi-innocuous query now actualized as a two sided bladed poker, hot stabbing me smack dab in the chests hollow crown bullseye, continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a “yes” it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that refreshes with every breath; a life long struggle for an accurate definition, be a general of genuine happy, that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction as a human, one operates on parallel continuums; slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years, their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles formed by twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves, marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost, complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words “The End” a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours, reality is shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable and a piece of a peace that comes and goes like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing - the opioids of the mind offers are rejected the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall - the place where the poems come from, and go to die, a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized but never been and never left, the crazy contradictions come in two flavors; vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have etched pathways cheek-chiseled the city is a struggling strife for most, the next red line on the side of the measuring cup and everyone has a cell, a credit card, and a measuring cup <•> here I stop can’t finish someone missing alerts me to their real worlds troubles making my complaints super superficial but the silent running of the stilleto cuts shallow repeated hourly the cut color, pitch black

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Through grain fields with bayonets fixed, from Belleau Woods the Germans came. The sixth Marines in shallow pits unleashed a deadly metal rain. The French collapsed upon the left Their flank exposed by craven fear The Marines held fast when urged to flee: "Retreat?, Monsieur? We just got here." By June the sixth, it fell to them to take a Hill to save the French. A German company with machine guns waited for them, well entrenched. Their tactics from another war, Audacious yes, but not too clever "Come on, you ******** Dan Daly roared, "Do you really want to live forever?" With casualties high, so many dead The Marine Corps held the hill by night. Counter attacks were fended off some times with fists and K bar knife. Now the cannon of both sides rained steel where the combatants stood: A once beautiful preserve of princes was turned into a shattered wood. Through mustard gas and cannon fire The Marines advanced into the Wood. Silenced machine guns and cut bared wire till the enemy fled, this time for good. Before the flag at Iwo flew, Before the Canal's jungle squalor Marines were nicknamed "Devil Dogs" by the Germans who admired valor.

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Jan 14, 2012

Jan 14, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

Through grain fields with bayonets fixed, from Belleau Woods the Germans came. The sixth Marines in shallow pits unleashed a deadly metal rain. The French collapsed upon the left Their flank exposed by craven fear The Marines held fast when urged to flee: "Retreat?, Monsieur? We just got here." By June the sixth, it fell to them to take a Hill to save the French. A German company with machine guns waited for them, well entrenched. Their tactics from another war, Audacious yes, but not too clever "Come on, you ******** Dan Daly roared, "Do you really want to live forever?" With casualties high, so many dead The Marine Corps held the hill by night. Counter attacks were fended off some times with fists and K bar knife. Now the cannon of both sides rained steel where the combatants stood: A once beautiful preserve of princes was turned into a shattered wood. Through mustard gas and cannon fire The Marines advanced into the Wood. Silenced machine guns and cut bared wire till the enemy fled, this time for good. Before the flag at Iwo flew, Before the Canal's jungle squalor Marines were nicknamed "Devil Dogs" by the Germans who admired valor.

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I might have told you some of these things, If you were alive. You had an amazing body from the moment we hit seventh grade. Your ***** just sat, round and high, Your ******* pointed straight outward, Like a freak of nature, or an action figure. Cheering at football games Girls hated standing next to you because You peeled their boyfriend’s eyes from their skirts to yours. One summer night on Garrett’s roof, After making turkey sandwiches at two in the morning, ******* the fumes in your thin lips, Watching the smoke twist in the air In front of your ice blue eyes, And your white blonde hair, We talked about *** About how it’s ****** up how it is so much harder For girls to have ******* Then I dated Jesse, After you. We were 16. Sometimes I think about the night I told you I was sorry, In the parking lot by the river. Your breath smelled like Doritos and cherry ***** You fooled around with your pink shirt Telling me it was ok. We talked about our secret handshake. We talked about how you used to want to be nicknamed cupcake, We talked about the time we had a séance. Age eleven bringing back ****** On your screened-in porch, Warm air swayed the candle flames, Crickets in the darkness around us, Suddenly, A biker knocked over your trashcan in the ally. You are dead now. But you did it. Sometimes I’ll eat too much, Or ***** Or smoke half a pack of cigarettes, When I think about you. One night last summer I ate an entire half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, Alone in my kitchen. My stomach felt sick for three days. I walk the trail behind your house, The one where you think you started your period. The first place we ever smoked *** I talk to the trees about you. When the wind blows the branches And the dry leaves sound, In that gentle shudder, Along the cold ground, My skin prickles, And the hair on my arms rises towards the sky.

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May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC

I might have told you some of these things, If you were alive. You had an amazing body from the moment we hit seventh grade. Your ***** just sat, round and high, Your ******* pointed straight outward, Like a freak of nature, or an action figure. Cheering at football games Girls hated standing next to you because You peeled their boyfriend’s eyes from their skirts to yours. One summer night on Garrett’s roof, After making turkey sandwiches at two in the morning, ******* the fumes in your thin lips, Watching the smoke twist in the air In front of your ice blue eyes, And your white blonde hair, We talked about *** About how it’s ****** up how it is so much harder For girls to have ******* Then I dated Jesse, After you. We were 16. Sometimes I think about the night I told you I was sorry, In the parking lot by the river. Your breath smelled like Doritos and cherry ***** You fooled around with your pink shirt Telling me it was ok. We talked about our secret handshake. We talked about how you used to want to be nicknamed cupcake, We talked about the time we had a séance. Age eleven bringing back ****** On your screened-in porch, Warm air swayed the candle flames, Crickets in the darkness around us, Suddenly, A biker knocked over your trashcan in the ally. You are dead now. But you did it. Sometimes I’ll eat too much, Or ***** Or smoke half a pack of cigarettes, When I think about you. One night last summer I ate an entire half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, Alone in my kitchen. My stomach felt sick for three days. I walk the trail behind your house, The one where you think you started your period. The first place we ever smoked *** I talk to the trees about you. When the wind blows the branches And the dry leaves sound, In that gentle shudder, Along the cold ground, My skin prickles, And the hair on my arms rises towards the sky.

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453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we— Taking turns—at the Chimborazo— Ducal—at last—stand up by thee— Love—thou are deep— I cannot cross thee— But, were there Two Instead of One— Rower, and Yacht—some sovereign Summer— Who knows—but we’d reach the Sun? Love—thou are Veiled— A few—behold thee— Smile—and alter—and prattle—and die— Bliss—were an Oddity—without thee— Nicknamed by God— Eternity—

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3.7k

Emily Dickinson

Love—thou art high

453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we— Taking turns—at the Chimborazo— Ducal—at last—stand up by thee— Love—thou are deep— I cannot cross thee— But, were there Two Instead of One— Rower, and Yacht—some sovereign Summer— Who knows—but we’d reach the Sun? Love—thou are Veiled— A few—behold thee— Smile—and alter—and prattle—and die— Bliss—were an Oddity—without thee— Nicknamed by God— Eternity—

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It was one of those mornings where you peer out your bottom floor window, and look up at the raindrops freshly fallen. You feel broken, and yet rushed with an unexplainable emotion. but you know it’s a good one simply with a bad aftertaste. You see people everyday, no, you stare at them. You wish for relationships you once had. Others you wish you could hold, and those you could never give up. Have you ever heard the saying about faking a smile? It’s an understatement. It’s not sadness, or anger really, just pain. It doesn't start out as pain, it just evolves, over time. The madness results in Emotionally caused Physical pain. The pain doesn't hurt, it just...sits. This emotion that we've nicknamed pain, rushes through the body, Arms numbs, legs shaking, eyes holding back, everything. It’s all caused from sight, with a drop of longing. You see this person everyday. You long for the same people every single day. And your body just longs for them. It’s not as lustful as it sounds. You just possess an attraction to these people. An attraction that even the most specific and descriptive of words could not describe. You sit there and you are bound by society’s lock on intermingling. You are bound by the mock and disgust of others. You are bound by that person of which you desire. You are bound simply by yourself. All this. All of this Emotion, if you will, was bound in that little drop that clings to the window. That was but a drop of what I feel every single day. You can’t imagine but don't let me sound as if I am exaggerating. For I am not. I have felt wonderful things. Things I am not sure most of you have felt. Though I wish you could. I wish I could place my hand on your chest I wish that all of that energy, that emotion, would flow into you and then back into me. I could look into your eyes, and I would know, that you know, how I feel. You could understand everything. You could sympathise. but the fact of the matter is, you simply can’t. I do not believe you have felt what I have felt too, no. Different version and variations, yes. But this feeling of impossibility, I know you have not felt. You are common rebel, this is not bad, no not at all, you have more opportunities to release this emotion than I ever will. And i envy you. All of you. Every Last one. You look away from the rain drops. You go back to living. You go back to hiding. You go back to solitude. Yeah, it was just one of those mornings I guess.

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Apr 26, 2013

Apr 26, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC

It was one of those Mornings...

It was one of those mornings where you peer out your bottom floor window, and look up at the raindrops freshly fallen. You feel broken, and yet rushed with an unexplainable emotion. but you know it’s a good one simply with a bad aftertaste. You see people everyday, no, you stare at them. You wish for relationships you once had. Others you wish you could hold, and those you could never give up. Have you ever heard the saying about faking a smile? It’s an understatement. It’s not sadness, or anger really, just pain. It doesn't start out as pain, it just evolves, over time. The madness results in Emotionally caused Physical pain. The pain doesn't hurt, it just...sits. This emotion that we've nicknamed pain, rushes through the body, Arms numbs, legs shaking, eyes holding back, everything. It’s all caused from sight, with a drop of longing. You see this person everyday. You long for the same people every single day. And your body just longs for them. It’s not as lustful as it sounds. You just possess an attraction to these people. An attraction that even the most specific and descriptive of words could not describe. You sit there and you are bound by society’s lock on intermingling. You are bound by the mock and disgust of others. You are bound by that person of which you desire. You are bound simply by yourself. All this. All of this Emotion, if you will, was bound in that little drop that clings to the window. That was but a drop of what I feel every single day. You can’t imagine but don't let me sound as if I am exaggerating. For I am not. I have felt wonderful things. Things I am not sure most of you have felt. Though I wish you could. I wish I could place my hand on your chest I wish that all of that energy, that emotion, would flow into you and then back into me. I could look into your eyes, and I would know, that you know, how I feel. You could understand everything. You could sympathise. but the fact of the matter is, you simply can’t. I do not believe you have felt what I have felt too, no. Different version and variations, yes. But this feeling of impossibility, I know you have not felt. You are common rebel, this is not bad, no not at all, you have more opportunities to release this emotion than I ever will. And i envy you. All of you. Every Last one. You look away from the rain drops. You go back to living. You go back to hiding. You go back to solitude. Yeah, it was just one of those mornings I guess.

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I was not good at Hide and Seek, So I was always chosen the last in a team. I could never tell a lie, So my friends and family never told me their secrets, They nicknamed me tell tale. I could never fight my battles, My siblings and friends were there for me. Now that I have a broken heart, Wounded and scarred, I have learned to hide my pain and tears behind my veiled eyes, I have learned to hide my sorrow behind my fake smile, I have learned to make my silence my strength, To face my ordeal, heal and move on. 18/2/2019

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Feb 18, 2019

Feb 18, 2019 at 3:53 AM UTC

salmabanu-hatim

I was not good at Hide and Seek, So I was always chosen the last in a team. I could never tell a lie, So my friends and family never told me their secrets, They nicknamed me tell tale. I could never fight my battles, My siblings and friends were there for me. Now that I have a broken heart, Wounded and scarred, I have learned to hide my pain and tears behind my veiled eyes, I have learned to hide my sorrow behind my fake smile, I have learned to make my silence my strength, To face my ordeal, heal and move on. 18/2/2019

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Barnacles crunch like fast food under your sneakers, my gnawed-on boots. We pass over cat-eyed shards of glass still spicy with beer bubbles and still fizzy with teen rebellion; It molds like an infection here. In a town nicknamed "Little Norway." ~ This place hoards candy-colored suburbia in its pockets. Houses like skittles weigh down its pants and it belches out tourist traps weaker than expired pepsi, yet it still manages these moments where I can trot by your gazelle legs and blast Julie Andrew's confidence. And I want to heap myself on the oyster shells, say STOP Put this moment in a snowglobe, sigh into it before we move on, do anything before the wind whips it away. Etch it into your hand if you have to. But breeze dimples the water like a golf ball and rips at the seams of the shore. Please don't forget me when you leave.

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Mar 6, 2012

Mar 6, 2012 at 1:20 AM UTC

It's safe to say we talk about Everything

Barnacles crunch like fast food under your sneakers, my gnawed-on boots. We pass over cat-eyed shards of glass still spicy with beer bubbles and still fizzy with teen rebellion; It molds like an infection here. In a town nicknamed "Little Norway." ~ This place hoards candy-colored suburbia in its pockets. Houses like skittles weigh down its pants and it belches out tourist traps weaker than expired pepsi, yet it still manages these moments where I can trot by your gazelle legs and blast Julie Andrew's confidence. And I want to heap myself on the oyster shells, say STOP Put this moment in a snowglobe, sigh into it before we move on, do anything before the wind whips it away. Etch it into your hand if you have to. But breeze dimples the water like a golf ball and rips at the seams of the shore. Please don't forget me when you leave.

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it's a college party even though i never finished and the rest of y'all are spending money you don't have on the ingredients necessary for homemade sangria so you can drink the crippling anxiety of not knowing how to pay off your student loans away there's a man living in a tent in the backyard, and i'm pretty sure we put one too many pieces of scrap wood in that very-hard-to-maintain bonfire. that has to be a metaphor for the state of most of our lives. stop throwing things i'm unprepared for in what already feels like a situation that is going to **** me. is this a literal housewarming i'm drunk, and sitting on the deck, counting the christmas lights. i smell **** and there are white people dancing and singing to blink 182 inside. i paint my name on a drywall with a brush and canisters i find on my way to the living room, where i'm asked to referee a game of beer pong. i lose interest quickly. i scroll through my phone, sober enough not to text you but drunk enough to desperately want to. someone sits down next to me because i've apparently become that person at the party. i talk about rent with a guy who really wants to connect on the fact that we're both middle eastern, even though i'm not middle eastern. he smells like PBR and completely believes what he's saying. he says he's proud of me for following my dreams of coming to new york and that he likes my "crazy hair" and that he wants to **** me. i raise my eyebrows, more in disgust than interest, but he then takes his perceived cue to shamelessly ask me if i have a ****** i don't, and i leave before he brainstorms any alternatives i am just as aversive to. ironically, i find a ****** dispenser attached to a tree on the walk to the subway. considering the amount of catcalling i experienced on the way to the station, my level of discomfort is amplified by the fact that the neighbourhood literally, physically implies, ******* is going to happen in the streets. it's 2am, and i just want to go home. and i'm sitting on the J train, recalling everyone who's told me it's shady and unreliable and makes you feel like you're going to die. a few months later, i am nicknamed J train.

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Sep 21, 2016

Sep 21, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC

sincerelybillie

it's a college party even though i never finished and the rest of y'all are spending money you don't have on the ingredients necessary for homemade sangria so you can drink the crippling anxiety of not knowing how to pay off your student loans away there's a man living in a tent in the backyard, and i'm pretty sure we put one too many pieces of scrap wood in that very-hard-to-maintain bonfire. that has to be a metaphor for the state of most of our lives. stop throwing things i'm unprepared for in what already feels like a situation that is going to **** me. is this a literal housewarming i'm drunk, and sitting on the deck, counting the christmas lights. i smell **** and there are white people dancing and singing to blink 182 inside. i paint my name on a drywall with a brush and canisters i find on my way to the living room, where i'm asked to referee a game of beer pong. i lose interest quickly. i scroll through my phone, sober enough not to text you but drunk enough to desperately want to. someone sits down next to me because i've apparently become that person at the party. i talk about rent with a guy who really wants to connect on the fact that we're both middle eastern, even though i'm not middle eastern. he smells like PBR and completely believes what he's saying. he says he's proud of me for following my dreams of coming to new york and that he likes my "crazy hair" and that he wants to **** me. i raise my eyebrows, more in disgust than interest, but he then takes his perceived cue to shamelessly ask me if i have a ****** i don't, and i leave before he brainstorms any alternatives i am just as aversive to. ironically, i find a ****** dispenser attached to a tree on the walk to the subway. considering the amount of catcalling i experienced on the way to the station, my level of discomfort is amplified by the fact that the neighbourhood literally, physically implies, ******* is going to happen in the streets. it's 2am, and i just want to go home. and i'm sitting on the J train, recalling everyone who's told me it's shady and unreliable and makes you feel like you're going to die. a few months later, i am nicknamed J train.

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Here's to the... Calorie counter Long sleeve wearer Excessive water drinker Mirror believer Professional over-thinker Clever liar Hair puller Tongue biter Thigh hater Toilet bowl hugger Magazine lover Belly fat **** At home cryer Bedroom hider Internet follower Social stink bug One sided therapist Friend loser Terrifying truth Reality dodger Space-brained Nicknamed Love rejector Anxiety collector Roller coaster rider Personal antagonist Perfection chaser Hopeless dreamer Nothing achiever Unnoticed angel Silent rainbow Blood seeker Soul-searching rebel Wilting rose

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Jan 26, 2013

Jan 26, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC

Here's to the... Calorie counter Long sleeve wearer Excessive water drinker Mirror believer Professional over-thinker Clever liar Hair puller Tongue biter Thigh hater Toilet bowl hugger Magazine lover Belly fat **** At home cryer Bedroom hider Internet follower Social stink bug One sided therapist Friend loser Terrifying truth Reality dodger Space-brained Nicknamed Love rejector Anxiety collector Roller coaster rider Personal antagonist Perfection chaser Hopeless dreamer Nothing achiever Unnoticed angel Silent rainbow Blood seeker Soul-searching rebel Wilting rose

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Dont hate me cuz I am beautiful Looking Hijabi-licious for Allah, devoutly dutiful Shaking your head at me cuz I cover Wouldn’t take you nor your wingman as a lover Glaring at me crazily cuz I’m veiled An ocean of chastity you’ve never sailed And you’re all alarmed cuz I’m devout I’m hijab-tastic! Not even a single toe is out! You can quit cat-calling me too; Cuz I’m chaste Aint’ no welcome sign wrapped ‘round this waist Tryna peer pressure me cuz I’m concealed And ain’t out here tryna cop a feel Pontificating that I’m oppressed cuz I’m different “miss Muhammed is much too modest, we like ‘em ignorant” And you’re kinda curious cuz u cant cuddle this Jelly Joker, Lord knows ur stupid tail ain’t ready So don’t hate cuz you, your boy, and your girl cant touch this I’m a female manifestation of feminine justice ********************************************* And girl, now you’re just jealous cuz you think he likes it Said “wonder what her hair’s like when she unties it?” Yeah She’s hoping to high heaven that I’m hot in my Hijab So she can get me to join her in flashing flabby flabs of abs Don’t be mean to me cuz real men find me appealing Kindly consider concealing all the cleavage you’ve been revealing You’re surprised because our boss recognized my mind? Could it be because he isn’t busy admiring my behind? I heard there was insane party where the office nicknamed you Lil “Miss loose & cray cray” Oh, Dang. Anyway, they nicknamed me Lil Miss gotta go pray pray You out here hating cuz my beauty is discreet But if I was half naked, girl you know you couldn’t compete So later for you, your lewd dude, and your half **** crew! It’s not your pleasure that I seek Allah, the Beautiful Fashioner, formed this physique Verily Allah made everything valuable a challenge to achieve Pearls, diamonds, gold, heaven, and— yes!— even ME He, Almighty, offered me a trade treaty, His commands for my Destiny So I traded in ****** for decency I traded in popularity for modesty And I’m trading in your knuckle-headed opinion For His highest heavenly dominion Hijab-ulous 4 life!

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Dec 7, 2020

Dec 7, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC

Dont hate me cuz I am beautiful Looking Hijabi-licious for Allah, devoutly dutiful Shaking your head at me cuz I cover Wouldn’t take you nor your wingman as a lover Glaring at me crazily cuz I’m veiled An ocean of chastity you’ve never sailed And you’re all alarmed cuz I’m devout I’m hijab-tastic! Not even a single toe is out! You can quit cat-calling me too; Cuz I’m chaste Aint’ no welcome sign wrapped ‘round this waist Tryna peer pressure me cuz I’m concealed And ain’t out here tryna cop a feel Pontificating that I’m oppressed cuz I’m different “miss Muhammed is much too modest, we like ‘em ignorant” And you’re kinda curious cuz u cant cuddle this Jelly Joker, Lord knows ur stupid tail ain’t ready So don’t hate cuz you, your boy, and your girl cant touch this I’m a female manifestation of feminine justice ********************************************* And girl, now you’re just jealous cuz you think he likes it Said “wonder what her hair’s like when she unties it?” Yeah She’s hoping to high heaven that I’m hot in my Hijab So she can get me to join her in flashing flabby flabs of abs Don’t be mean to me cuz real men find me appealing Kindly consider concealing all the cleavage you’ve been revealing You’re surprised because our boss recognized my mind? Could it be because he isn’t busy admiring my behind? I heard there was insane party where the office nicknamed you Lil “Miss loose & cray cray” Oh, Dang. Anyway, they nicknamed me Lil Miss gotta go pray pray You out here hating cuz my beauty is discreet But if I was half naked, girl you know you couldn’t compete So later for you, your lewd dude, and your half **** crew! It’s not your pleasure that I seek Allah, the Beautiful Fashioner, formed this physique Verily Allah made everything valuable a challenge to achieve Pearls, diamonds, gold, heaven, and— yes!— even ME He, Almighty, offered me a trade treaty, His commands for my Destiny So I traded in ****** for decency I traded in popularity for modesty And I’m trading in your knuckle-headed opinion For His highest heavenly dominion Hijab-ulous 4 life!

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I guess we were bored, Or looking for something new. And there was a party coming up. Someone's hosting debut. So we thought we'd ask around, See what else was to do. And our **** dealer told us He sold other things too. He nicknamed it dizz, And it sounded quite fun. So we talked all about it, Decided to get some. We all pitched in, Asked for five or ten pounds. And went and collected it; Tin foil bound. Accompanying us Was a sober mate. He said it would be fun To watch and spectate. So we unwrapped it, Crushed it, Poured it, And drank it. The taste was disgusting, Of abstract chemicals. But we swallowed it down, A moment; seminal. They said twenty minutes, So we sat and waited. Our hearts were pumping Way before eight. And we went downstairs, Sat on a sofa, Biding our time, Sipping on cola... And there. What was that. A feeling. It entered the chat. Some warmth, No stress. And then a Very deep breath Of fresh air And emotion. Like emerging from the bottom Of a very deep ocean You had been down for years. Reggae was playing At very high volume. And none wanted staying Where we were. So we got up keen, And started dancing. One even went on the wet trampoline And bounced Up, down, Up, down, Could've gone till sundown. And the sky was gorgeous; Metallic, steel blue Mixed with orange and yellow. It was quite the view. But time was Moving on, So we packed up, And were almost gone Before keys jangled, And the door swung open. A parent walked in, And caused a commotion Of boys rushing out, Mumbling words and plans. We left quite abruptly, And sprinted and ran. Once round the corner, We couldn't care less. Nonchalant as usual, We enjoyed the success. And we walked and talked About pure, utter, ***** The iPhone X, some girls, And the absolute banger that would be tonight. So we strolled around, The sun on our faces, Feeling elated. Going some places.

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Aug 21, 2018

Aug 21, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC

I guess we were bored, Or looking for something new. And there was a party coming up. Someone's hosting debut. So we thought we'd ask around, See what else was to do. And our **** dealer told us He sold other things too. He nicknamed it dizz, And it sounded quite fun. So we talked all about it, Decided to get some. We all pitched in, Asked for five or ten pounds. And went and collected it; Tin foil bound. Accompanying us Was a sober mate. He said it would be fun To watch and spectate. So we unwrapped it, Crushed it, Poured it, And drank it. The taste was disgusting, Of abstract chemicals. But we swallowed it down, A moment; seminal. They said twenty minutes, So we sat and waited. Our hearts were pumping Way before eight. And we went downstairs, Sat on a sofa, Biding our time, Sipping on cola... And there. What was that. A feeling. It entered the chat. Some warmth, No stress. And then a Very deep breath Of fresh air And emotion. Like emerging from the bottom Of a very deep ocean You had been down for years. Reggae was playing At very high volume. And none wanted staying Where we were. So we got up keen, And started dancing. One even went on the wet trampoline And bounced Up, down, Up, down, Could've gone till sundown. And the sky was gorgeous; Metallic, steel blue Mixed with orange and yellow. It was quite the view. But time was Moving on, So we packed up, And were almost gone Before keys jangled, And the door swung open. A parent walked in, And caused a commotion Of boys rushing out, Mumbling words and plans. We left quite abruptly, And sprinted and ran. Once round the corner, We couldn't care less. Nonchalant as usual, We enjoyed the success. And we walked and talked About pure, utter, ***** The iPhone X, some girls, And the absolute banger that would be tonight. So we strolled around, The sun on our faces, Feeling elated. Going some places.

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*an Ode to Eppie I once had what I thought was a brilliant idea My friends listened dutifully without the eye roll the less loyal would have thrown in Before announcing that I am not allowed to name any children I end up having So I sure as **** better find a husband with an idea of what a name is I wanted a daughter named Epic Because I couldn’t imagine a bigger adventure than parenting And there was no way I was dealing with the torture of pregnancy To produce a child that was anything less than epic I wanted a daughter with the world laid out for her There would be no painful heart wrenching breakups for her No gangly awkward phase She would be the physical representation of the bond her father and I shared She would be love incarnated And I can’t imagine anything more epic than that I wanted a daughter named Epic Nicknamed Eppie Bambi told me that nickname was even worse than hers And I named her after a cartoon deer with a dead mother I guess they might have a point in this who name thing I wanted a daughter named Epiphany Because if I am ever (crazy) lucky enough to bring a girl into this world With my genes and the cruel ways of boys stacked against her I will sure as hell had some major epiphany If I am ever (stupid) blessed enough to have a daughter I want every moment with her to be a grand realization of my life This is who I am This moment is what I was made for Whether it’s picking her up after a scraped knee Advising her that Alphie only hit her because he likes her Or telling her that no, leggings are not pants She would be the reason I went through all of this The reason I got my heart broken by the world over and over again So that it could complete me I wanted a daughter named Epiphany Nicknamed Eppie “Like an EpiPen?” Fluffy (Patrick before I went about nicknaming) questioned “No, not like an Epinephrine auto injector at all.” Maybe naming isn't my forte I wanted a daughter named Epitome Because a name is more than a word A name is a decision I would make it clear that she was loved She would be the embodiment of every hope dream and wish I ever had Just by breathing each day I wanted my whole life to be leading up to the day I met her If I was ever going to give a new life She would be everything The epitome of my entire life I wanted a daughter named Epitome Nicknamed Eppie Laci (aka Frida) whose nickname could be interchangable with that of a stripper Laughed And decided that 'Emily' would be just fine for any daughter of mine

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Sep 17, 2013

Sep 17, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC

I’m not allowed to name my own children

*an Ode to Eppie I once had what I thought was a brilliant idea My friends listened dutifully without the eye roll the less loyal would have thrown in Before announcing that I am not allowed to name any children I end up having So I sure as **** better find a husband with an idea of what a name is I wanted a daughter named Epic Because I couldn’t imagine a bigger adventure than parenting And there was no way I was dealing with the torture of pregnancy To produce a child that was anything less than epic I wanted a daughter with the world laid out for her There would be no painful heart wrenching breakups for her No gangly awkward phase She would be the physical representation of the bond her father and I shared She would be love incarnated And I can’t imagine anything more epic than that I wanted a daughter named Epic Nicknamed Eppie Bambi told me that nickname was even worse than hers And I named her after a cartoon deer with a dead mother I guess they might have a point in this who name thing I wanted a daughter named Epiphany Because if I am ever (crazy) lucky enough to bring a girl into this world With my genes and the cruel ways of boys stacked against her I will sure as hell had some major epiphany If I am ever (stupid) blessed enough to have a daughter I want every moment with her to be a grand realization of my life This is who I am This moment is what I was made for Whether it’s picking her up after a scraped knee Advising her that Alphie only hit her because he likes her Or telling her that no, leggings are not pants She would be the reason I went through all of this The reason I got my heart broken by the world over and over again So that it could complete me I wanted a daughter named Epiphany Nicknamed Eppie “Like an EpiPen?” Fluffy (Patrick before I went about nicknaming) questioned “No, not like an Epinephrine auto injector at all.” Maybe naming isn't my forte I wanted a daughter named Epitome Because a name is more than a word A name is a decision I would make it clear that she was loved She would be the embodiment of every hope dream and wish I ever had Just by breathing each day I wanted my whole life to be leading up to the day I met her If I was ever going to give a new life She would be everything The epitome of my entire life I wanted a daughter named Epitome Nicknamed Eppie Laci (aka Frida) whose nickname could be interchangable with that of a stripper Laughed And decided that 'Emily' would be just fine for any daughter of mine

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Neon is rare on earth, hard to find. But I bet it’s harder to find any second of the day where your warm, monotone voice, reading an old picture book, doesn’t echo through my ears. Did you know that after adding eight thousand volts of excitement to helium, it glows? Yet my own face lights up by counting down the slowly melting seconds, minutes, hours and days of excitement, leading up to your arrival. Your own engraved dog tags, silver and shiny, metal magnesium, hang from neck like a personal reminder that you’re not too far away. Arsenic is nicknamed Poison of Kings because it had been used to numb and **** royal family members. Although no poison in the world can numb the tingling sensation, that reaches to my toes, as your camouflage boots descend from the plane. At this point the only thing that separates us is the carbon dioxide in our breathe and the oxygen in the thick, humid, Texas air. So when I see your face the tears will rush out like water out of a faucet, simply because there is no scientific equation to explain how slow these thirteen months have passed.

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Jun 5, 2013

Jun 5, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC

118 Elements of Reuniting

Neon is rare on earth, hard to find. But I bet it’s harder to find any second of the day where your warm, monotone voice, reading an old picture book, doesn’t echo through my ears. Did you know that after adding eight thousand volts of excitement to helium, it glows? Yet my own face lights up by counting down the slowly melting seconds, minutes, hours and days of excitement, leading up to your arrival. Your own engraved dog tags, silver and shiny, metal magnesium, hang from neck like a personal reminder that you’re not too far away. Arsenic is nicknamed Poison of Kings because it had been used to numb and **** royal family members. Although no poison in the world can numb the tingling sensation, that reaches to my toes, as your camouflage boots descend from the plane. At this point the only thing that separates us is the carbon dioxide in our breathe and the oxygen in the thick, humid, Texas air. So when I see your face the tears will rush out like water out of a faucet, simply because there is no scientific equation to explain how slow these thirteen months have passed.

Continue reading...

I can feel the changes You are my addiction I used to think you're a dentist You give me some kind of filling I blame the way that we living That has my feet on the edge Nicknamed your love Wels Fargo How I was putting in check My friends would talk and say you weren't loyal and give it a rest But you impress me No need for yelling You handle the stress You used to handle a tech When you were so out of place Initials double H So that means double hate But all the fellas who've seen you Knows that you keep a reliever You've seen more L's than the bobcats arena You keep it incognito But you're far from a bully When it comes to ink you're a monster Mike wazowski and sully You're a diamond in the rough You have a special shine There is no competition You're the hottest thing out Them others may claim you But they know that you're mine Girl I'd Jehovah witness for you I'm out here knocking doors down

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC

I can feel the changes You are my addiction I used to think you're a dentist You give me some kind of filling I blame the way that we living That has my feet on the edge Nicknamed your love Wels Fargo How I was putting in check My friends would talk and say you weren't loyal and give it a rest But you impress me No need for yelling You handle the stress You used to handle a tech When you were so out of place Initials double H So that means double hate But all the fellas who've seen you Knows that you keep a reliever You've seen more L's than the bobcats arena You keep it incognito But you're far from a bully When it comes to ink you're a monster Mike wazowski and sully You're a diamond in the rough You have a special shine There is no competition You're the hottest thing out Them others may claim you But they know that you're mine Girl I'd Jehovah witness for you I'm out here knocking doors down

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I'm one of those blessed I know To get along with my toes So I took time out in my day To give them all different names The big toe I have on the right I gave him the name of Frank You may ask the reason why But frankly it's escaped my mind The one that's sitting next to him I went ahead and named him Slim Skinny is as skinny does And he's the skinniest of the toes Then there's the one in the middle He's the one that loves to wiggle So he needs a special name And that is why I call him Dave The toe that is next in line Has gotten crooked over time So I nicknamed him Senator Which seems to suit him fine And then there's little Pinky But doesn't everyone I'm thinking Try as hard as I might a new name to find Pinky's the name that comes to mind Don't you know when it comes to toes And you have more than one of those To cut out on the confusion I gave them all names of my choosing

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Oct 19, 2018

Oct 19, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC

My Toes Have Names

I'm one of those blessed I know To get along with my toes So I took time out in my day To give them all different names The big toe I have on the right I gave him the name of Frank You may ask the reason why But frankly it's escaped my mind The one that's sitting next to him I went ahead and named him Slim Skinny is as skinny does And he's the skinniest of the toes Then there's the one in the middle He's the one that loves to wiggle So he needs a special name And that is why I call him Dave The toe that is next in line Has gotten crooked over time So I nicknamed him Senator Which seems to suit him fine And then there's little Pinky But doesn't everyone I'm thinking Try as hard as I might a new name to find Pinky's the name that comes to mind Don't you know when it comes to toes And you have more than one of those To cut out on the confusion I gave them all names of my choosing

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We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. We see the youngens, they little bait, but once we hooked them,they'll be piranha's in our tank, stripping the dignity from out of your voice in 20 seconds flat. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. We strung up your boys, gasping for air. But once we got our hooks on you were gutting you easy. But not before we get what we need from your pleads. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. Look little fish you in a tank of sharks, we grin our grills gravestones of what you see last before your dispatched. But don't you worry there are plenty to keep you company down there, you ain't the first and you ain't going to be the last. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. We got nicknamed the fisherman, we sail into your town catching what ever we want. We don't scrap the sea floor hoping for a catch. We fish for the real deal. Disillusioned of the fish bowl they swimming in. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. Making it even easier to catch, to turn them from neighbourhood trash to one of our sharks. showing other that once we got you hooked, the only way you leaving is dead floating at the bottom of the tank. We coming to your postcode. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact.

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Feb 25, 2020

Feb 25, 2020 at 6:23 PM UTC

We Hooking Up Postcodes

We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. We see the youngens, they little bait, but once we hooked them,they'll be piranha's in our tank, stripping the dignity from out of your voice in 20 seconds flat. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. We strung up your boys, gasping for air. But once we got our hooks on you were gutting you easy. But not before we get what we need from your pleads. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. Look little fish you in a tank of sharks, we grin our grills gravestones of what you see last before your dispatched. But don't you worry there are plenty to keep you company down there, you ain't the first and you ain't going to be the last. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. We got nicknamed the fisherman, we sail into your town catching what ever we want. We don't scrap the sea floor hoping for a catch. We fish for the real deal. Disillusioned of the fish bowl they swimming in. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact. Making it even easier to catch, to turn them from neighbourhood trash to one of our sharks. showing other that once we got you hooked, the only way you leaving is dead floating at the bottom of the tank. We coming to your postcode. We got your crew like you were an easy catch, cos once we got our hooks in your postcode we ain't letting go, fact.

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Over the course of my tenure I've noticed something about These concrete walls and me. Something's changed i n m e. Over the course of these days It has completely eaten away My tongue . Cutting a w a y Neatly and p a i n l e s s l y . It even has a personality, I've Nicknamed him C l e e t i s P. However, instead of parasiti- -zing my life. It u p - graded Me. Replaced that uncouth T Somewhat enlightened m e . Above the soloists -no longer "I" or "me"; but "us" and "we" you see self-communality i n "we". It's slimy-self now fun- -ctions as o u r newest ***** A mouthpiece & a voicebox It lives off of small drops o f Blood from my tongue-stub That won't ever, ever c l o t! My business has a s e c r e t I t s a y s t o m e : Regardless of Earthly losses Give y o u r everything to us W e are your dearest bosses .

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May 11, 2012

May 11, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC

Cymothoa Exigua *****

Over the course of my tenure I've noticed something about These concrete walls and me. Something's changed i n m e. Over the course of these days It has completely eaten away My tongue . Cutting a w a y Neatly and p a i n l e s s l y . It even has a personality, I've Nicknamed him C l e e t i s P. However, instead of parasiti- -zing my life. It u p - graded Me. Replaced that uncouth T Somewhat enlightened m e . Above the soloists -no longer "I" or "me"; but "us" and "we" you see self-communality i n "we". It's slimy-self now fun- -ctions as o u r newest ***** A mouthpiece & a voicebox It lives off of small drops o f Blood from my tongue-stub That won't ever, ever c l o t! My business has a s e c r e t I t s a y s t o m e : Regardless of Earthly losses Give y o u r everything to us W e are your dearest bosses .

Continue reading...

I'm from the land overflowing with milk and honey and my mind is more rich that The Europeans useless green paper money yes far from a dummy and like the dawn of day my personality is Always sunny. I am a rare soul On the outside I am just another hueman but on the inside I'm a being of the supernatural I am a radiating rainbow Shinning in between blue and purple I'm the canvas of the star child so paint me Indigo. I'm a lantern in the darkness of the heavily wooded forest, I glow. My heart is as pure as the whitetess snow I am a farmer planting seeds, So, I reap what I sow. I expand my horizons because the more you know the more you grow. I am vibrant just as the stained glass window. My soul is a strong and fierce bolt of lightening, quite powerful. I am Fearlessly and wonderfully made in the image of The Most High, Quite beautiful. I'm an individual whose energy is a current thats just flows. Maybe because Love is My religion no matter where I go. I was Created from the particles of stars hidden in the cosmos Mixed with the elements of earth Descended from the heavens, past the galaxy and from the wombman my spirit and body became one at birth As it bursted thru my Earth mother, The Universe. this body became both a gift and a curse My life became as song unrehearsed I guess thats why they nicknamed me lyrics because my words were my hook and verse. I am like many phases of the Luna very diverse I am the moon that rises to rest in the midnight sky upon the evening shore as the cool ocean passionately kisses the sparkling sand. I am the wombman with a vision and a plan. I am India Arie, boosting your souls immunity. Healthy for you like vitamin C. Loving me unconditionally Embracing the Queen in me. I am free! I am Lauryn Hill opening your eyes to see the things that Are Real. I am the peace that is still. I express the way I feel. I am Jill Scott giving you some food for thought. Pay close attention because lessons are being taught. I'm am Erykah Badu giving you something you ain't use to. I'm Alicia keys Feeling the music putting my mind at ease As the nature gives my skin goosebumps with its cooling breeze. I am Janet Jackson giving you that that fire and passion. lacing it with that poetic justice style and fashion. Yet I will have you talking to and looking at that man in the mirror like Michael Jackson.

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Apr 3, 2017

Apr 3, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC

I'm from the land overflowing with milk and honey and my mind is more rich that The Europeans useless green paper money yes far from a dummy and like the dawn of day my personality is Always sunny. I am a rare soul On the outside I am just another hueman but on the inside I'm a being of the supernatural I am a radiating rainbow Shinning in between blue and purple I'm the canvas of the star child so paint me Indigo. I'm a lantern in the darkness of the heavily wooded forest, I glow. My heart is as pure as the whitetess snow I am a farmer planting seeds, So, I reap what I sow. I expand my horizons because the more you know the more you grow. I am vibrant just as the stained glass window. My soul is a strong and fierce bolt of lightening, quite powerful. I am Fearlessly and wonderfully made in the image of The Most High, Quite beautiful. I'm an individual whose energy is a current thats just flows. Maybe because Love is My religion no matter where I go. I was Created from the particles of stars hidden in the cosmos Mixed with the elements of earth Descended from the heavens, past the galaxy and from the wombman my spirit and body became one at birth As it bursted thru my Earth mother, The Universe. this body became both a gift and a curse My life became as song unrehearsed I guess thats why they nicknamed me lyrics because my words were my hook and verse. I am like many phases of the Luna very diverse I am the moon that rises to rest in the midnight sky upon the evening shore as the cool ocean passionately kisses the sparkling sand. I am the wombman with a vision and a plan. I am India Arie, boosting your souls immunity. Healthy for you like vitamin C. Loving me unconditionally Embracing the Queen in me. I am free! I am Lauryn Hill opening your eyes to see the things that Are Real. I am the peace that is still. I express the way I feel. I am Jill Scott giving you some food for thought. Pay close attention because lessons are being taught. I'm am Erykah Badu giving you something you ain't use to. I'm Alicia keys Feeling the music putting my mind at ease As the nature gives my skin goosebumps with its cooling breeze. I am Janet Jackson giving you that that fire and passion. lacing it with that poetic justice style and fashion. Yet I will have you talking to and looking at that man in the mirror like Michael Jackson.

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When night shimmers away and dawn appears, Awakening all living things from slumber, The sun is welcomed by all with cheers As its heat signifies everything warm and dear. Flowers arise in glory and bloom, While butterflies carry on their endless pollination. The first sign of day sweeps away all gloom, And the sun is nicknamed,” god’s greatest creation” And birds spread their wings and soar the skies, Aiming to reach for the sun, While the hapless baby bawls and cries, And while the labourer butters his bun. When the sun shines upon them, All living things know, That everything happy and new is brought about by the bright yellow gem, And hence with joy does their life glow. Because it’s the beginning of a brand new day, Fresh, unique, and different from the last, Fun and fulfilling in every way, To help forget history and the past. And so, also, as I look at the world around me, Taking in the view, Whatever I see, Is not what I saw yesterday, but something new. And as the bees store up their honey, And businessmen store up their money, My heart, warmed by the sun does sing Gleefully welcoming a brand new day that’s just beginning…

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Nov 5, 2010

Nov 5, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC

rakesh-vijayakumar

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW DAY...

When night shimmers away and dawn appears, Awakening all living things from slumber, The sun is welcomed by all with cheers As its heat signifies everything warm and dear. Flowers arise in glory and bloom, While butterflies carry on their endless pollination. The first sign of day sweeps away all gloom, And the sun is nicknamed,” god’s greatest creation” And birds spread their wings and soar the skies, Aiming to reach for the sun, While the hapless baby bawls and cries, And while the labourer butters his bun. When the sun shines upon them, All living things know, That everything happy and new is brought about by the bright yellow gem, And hence with joy does their life glow. Because it’s the beginning of a brand new day, Fresh, unique, and different from the last, Fun and fulfilling in every way, To help forget history and the past. And so, also, as I look at the world around me, Taking in the view, Whatever I see, Is not what I saw yesterday, but something new. And as the bees store up their honey, And businessmen store up their money, My heart, warmed by the sun does sing Gleefully welcoming a brand new day that’s just beginning…

Continue reading...

I was helping my little sister with a fiction story she has to write for her school She was creating a character I told her to create some personality traits, some tendencies that define her character, some unique habits so that the character is sharp in the readers mind, like a real person, nothing vague. She then had me read what she had written. Brace yourselves, her level of sanity is a little concerning... Here it is: **she can not talk because her mother died and now she is too angry at fish to talk she is missing one hand because she had to do cooking at home to help out but she accidentally cut off her hand she does not have any hair because she has cancer she has a obsession with clowns and dressed up as a clown every year for Halloween she is deathly afraid of daisies she wants to be the prime minister when she grows up , even though she lives in the U.S her backup plan is to become a clown she loves buying turtles as pets she already owns 14 turtles and they are all either named Abrocombie or Fitch She despises the names Abrocombie and Fitch but she loves all her turtles especially Fitch who she nicknamed Bob she owns a leather jacket that she wears every day except for on the days she buys turtles on... so she never wears her leather jacket**

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Jan 4, 2015

Jan 4, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC

ember-evanescent

The ...."special"est thing you have read all day.

I was helping my little sister with a fiction story she has to write for her school She was creating a character I told her to create some personality traits, some tendencies that define her character, some unique habits so that the character is sharp in the readers mind, like a real person, nothing vague. She then had me read what she had written. Brace yourselves, her level of sanity is a little concerning... Here it is: **she can not talk because her mother died and now she is too angry at fish to talk she is missing one hand because she had to do cooking at home to help out but she accidentally cut off her hand she does not have any hair because she has cancer she has a obsession with clowns and dressed up as a clown every year for Halloween she is deathly afraid of daisies she wants to be the prime minister when she grows up , even though she lives in the U.S her backup plan is to become a clown she loves buying turtles as pets she already owns 14 turtles and they are all either named Abrocombie or Fitch She despises the names Abrocombie and Fitch but she loves all her turtles especially Fitch who she nicknamed Bob she owns a leather jacket that she wears every day except for on the days she buys turtles on... so she never wears her leather jacket**

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Just as eating is the test of pudding, we can't really do anything with our deliberately inward-flowing, draughty tears. Our residual, mushy, pathetic life is divided into three hundred and sixty-five tiny particles not only by Time or the calendar - but every day has that cheesy, almost shameful story to the core, according to which: we should adjust better to our alternate endings. Love ready to unfold would draw in vain increased comfort if there were no roots, seeds-germs left from which the whole emotion would sprout; why does the delicious roasted coffee, which we brew in the dim light of dawn, also have the smell of burnt ***** Because we must naturally inhabit the accumulations of lasting annoyances, so that later they can't say about us: "Well! This was also that kind of person!" As if the spiritual-physical connection had already - in many cases - finally come to an end, i.e. a person must always compromise with himself first and foremost, and bargain at the same time. He often stumbles or gets lost in flooded jars if he is not paying enough attention, and because sooner or later the body also stretches itself towards the horizon of Nothing. The goals and planned ideas seem to testify to conscious helplessness; why should the disillusionment nicknamed permanent be skinned when there is still usable emotion there?! A state of voluntary death also outlines the order of the living, where they can go. From inside, the World already seems like a torn Band-Aid.

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Sep 25, 2025

Sep 25, 2025 at 12:15 AM UTC

THE LAW OF ALTERNATIVE ENDINGS

Just as eating is the test of pudding, we can't really do anything with our deliberately inward-flowing, draughty tears. Our residual, mushy, pathetic life is divided into three hundred and sixty-five tiny particles not only by Time or the calendar - but every day has that cheesy, almost shameful story to the core, according to which: we should adjust better to our alternate endings. Love ready to unfold would draw in vain increased comfort if there were no roots, seeds-germs left from which the whole emotion would sprout; why does the delicious roasted coffee, which we brew in the dim light of dawn, also have the smell of burnt ***** Because we must naturally inhabit the accumulations of lasting annoyances, so that later they can't say about us: "Well! This was also that kind of person!" As if the spiritual-physical connection had already - in many cases - finally come to an end, i.e. a person must always compromise with himself first and foremost, and bargain at the same time. He often stumbles or gets lost in flooded jars if he is not paying enough attention, and because sooner or later the body also stretches itself towards the horizon of Nothing. The goals and planned ideas seem to testify to conscious helplessness; why should the disillusionment nicknamed permanent be skinned when there is still usable emotion there?! A state of voluntary death also outlines the order of the living, where they can go. From inside, the World already seems like a torn Band-Aid.

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