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"ninjas" poems
The aftermath of poorly applied algebra is a scramble of numbers, letters, lonely coefficients, and an unemployed ninjas. These characters are much like those of a barbershop quartet, where members can either harmonize or simply fall flat. All of this depends on the song they sing and the order it is sung; algebra sings a song of SVSCOS (Same Variables Same Coefficients Opposite Sides) What else can come of bad math? Nothing less than a burning hatred for radicals, imaginary numbers, the saying 'PEMDAS', or maybe the fact that if you're 21 you must stay out the bars. This being said, Algebra 2 is very much like a dream; once you wake up, most of it is forgotten, but also in that it can be strived toward and reached.
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
Algebra 2
I s’ppose rattlesnakes can’t be ninjas. Yes — they got the striking and the stinging part right, but they are not really masters of subtlety; they make too much noise and take a considerable amount of time to make a **** and they can never hold katanas and hurl throwing stars. I guess rattlesnakes are doomed to crawl and rattle on, announcing Hey, I carry venom, as the rats would thank their ears and the hawks circle above.
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
Why Rattlesnakes Can't Be Ninjas.
The start of the day look so bright, who would have belived it would end in a fight. The clatter off glasses and the shout of "Who's Round?! All drinks were picked up and swiftly downed. Moving on to the next watering hole, get there quick to watch the match winning goal. The lads want more dancing, ***** Stippers but not before we stop of for Chicken Dippers Intoxication is power or so we belived but a fight with what we thought were ninjas brought us down to our knees. We picked up our injured and clean up our wounds, then move on to the next place so we could re-group. Our ego's in tatters our wallets all spent, I think its time we bring this epic night to an end
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Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
Night out with the lads
Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu maverick, defender, O lover of justice Shintaro walks with grace Shintaro’s life is concentration and quiet, peace and silence Shintaro is skill and perfection Shintaro is protector of child woman and the poor and the orphans the weak, the helpless and of any who has been wronged Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu maverick, defender, O lover of justice the ninjas come like speeding stars one after another secret killers with weapons of death but none can beat Shintaro - Akikusa Shintaro, master of peace and stillness Samurai who sees with his being Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu maverick, defender, O lover of justice - you live in time you live in mind
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Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
Shintaro
***“While the rules for writing haiku in Japanese are clear, there is no Clear consensus for any other language. This means that I am write and everyone else is wrong.”***                                                                   ~writer unknown~ Definition of: haiku (according to Words Of Warner) ***A secret and ancient Japanese style of poetry. Invented and protected by the elite group of ninjas known only as The Basho. Some say, The Basho dwell in a sacred temple made of gold and rice paper, hidden deep in the bottom of Mt. Fiji. Others claim they are in elaborate tents made from the finest silks at the highest peak of Fiji. But no one knows for sure. Except maybe James Mc. But he’s not talking.*** How to write a haiku - ***First, pick a subject. You must choose from the chosen list; rain, wind, the sun, bugs, Mt. Fiji, Bruce Lee or frogs on a pond. The only exception is snow, and only used during the winter. Second, pick a form.  You can write in 1, 2 or 3 lines, sometimes 4. It all depends on those silly syllables, or as the Japanese call it, morae. Remember, less is more, more or less always but never. Here’s a tip, the best haiku are written backwards.*** ***Now you are ready to write your own fun little foreign poems called haiku.*** Note: if you are counting “morae” or words, don’t forget to divide the number of “morae” by the number of lines, or is it divide the number of lines by the “morae” and please use the on-line    Japanese counter/converter.
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
DEFINITION OF: haiku
***“While the rules for writing haiku in Japanese are clear, there is no Clear consensus for any other language. This means that I am write and everyone else is wrong.”***                                                                   ~writer unknown~ Definition of: haiku (according to Words Of Warner) ***A secret and ancient Japanese style of poetry. Invented and protected by the elite group of ninjas known only as The Basho. Some say, The Basho dwell in a sacred temple made of gold and rice paper, hidden deep in the bottom of Mt. Fiji. Others claim they are in elaborate tents made from the finest silks at the highest peak of Fiji. But no one knows for sure. Except maybe James Mc. But he’s not talking.*** How to write a haiku - ***First, pick a subject. You must choose from the chosen list; rain, wind, the sun, bugs, Mt. Fiji, Bruce Lee or frogs on a pond. The only exception is snow, and only used during the winter. Second, pick a form.  You can write in 1, 2 or 3 lines, sometimes 4. It all depends on those silly syllables, or as the Japanese call it, morae. Remember, less is more, more or less always but never. Here’s a tip, the best haiku are written backwards.*** ***Now you are ready to write your own fun little foreign poems called haiku.*** Note: if you are counting “morae” or words, don’t forget to divide the number of “morae” by the number of lines, or is it divide the number of lines by the “morae” and please use the on-line    Japanese counter/converter.
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25
i am a predator, preying on my self interests, allied with wounded spiritual ninjas, seeking absolution, ferreting out truth and substance; a live action rat dragging the world's biggest piece of stolen cheese. What are you that is better?
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Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
appraisal
Love ninja I discovered love is like a ninja. Ninja hide in the dark waiting to attack there pray. Well love doesn't attack there pray. But it hides in the dark like a ninja out of sight of thoughts looking for love. It comes out when we aren't looking for love. Just like ninjas we try are hardest to find ninjas but we never can, we try are hardest to find love but we never can. In till it finds us.
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Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
Love Ninja
Now for those that don't know I'm a huge fan of ninjas From cyberpunks like Hiryu and Jago I guess my subconscious is linked to them These warriors in the wind From Sheik to Smoke Ermac's telekinetic choke Ryu Hyabusa to scorpion subzero to Joe Musashi These warriors in the wind are part of what defines me Raven and Yoshimitsu I'm nowhere near the ability or agility of a ninja Ninjutsu probably would end up being the tool of my demise. I may never reach the skill of a ninja but that doesn't mean I won't try
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Warriors in the Wind
A conversation with my little cousins: Him: Knock knock! Me: Who's there? Him: Doctor! Me: Doctor Who? Him: Exactly! HAHAHAHAHAHA Me: Hahaha That's very funny darling. His little brother: KNOCK KNOCK! Me: Who's there? His little brother: um... um... I forgot, wait no um POTATO MUFFIN BANANA NINJA! Me: Potato muffin banana ninja who? His little brother: EXACTLY! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Me: Um... yeah. hahaha... Him: HAHAHAHAHA THAT'S FUNNY! Me: Um, yes. Sure. ha. haha. hahaha... His little brother: It's funny because I said POTATO MUFFIN BANANA NINJA and then you said WHO and then I said EXACTLY! HAHAHAHAHAHA Me: *** I think they are both having seizures... --------------------- But I love them with all my heart!!! <3 (My littlest cousin is obsessed with potatoes, muffins, bananas, and ninjas. I don't know it's weird dont ask)
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Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
A conversation with my little cousins
Did you know Ninjas have a language That we can't understand? While it isn't terribly complicated it can be tough to comprehend I happen to be fluent I've studied for some time Below I've crafted a poem using Ninjutsu as my rhyme I can only hope you found my poem to be delighting there are few things I enjoy quite more than ninja writing
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Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
Silence as a Second Language
The Queen of Absentia rises from royal stool to watch the moon set sheathed in broiling cloud as she skips whirling adders that hiss in fat jagged coils, their hollow blades jutting death in sprinkler sprays of misting veils and her head is hypethral; a Gaudi shipping container soldered in reptile curves, licked by arrowheads of falcate flame as she rounds its laughing corners; an adderaled lab rat, eyes black funnels drinking electrodes pulsing crimson and the stars are crackling in the pan as she     sees planets torn shrieking down Hell’s hungry plughole as fallen Gods divide by zero and the clock’s skittering claws scratch prophecies of consequence of poorly sewn seams, but she smiles like a risen crocodile and says,      ‘you’re just jealous cos the              voices only talk to me.’ And again she dives as unwanted advice gibbers up out snapping drains, and power points shoot sharp blue spears lighting substrates of ancient horror, inchoate but fattening before her eyes as she sits, wrapped in ghosts, guarding her ochre tea in its chalice of steaming bone, trying to sell herself a ticket to tomorrow’s sunrise, staring at thunderheads bunching up satin over sodden ninjas sprouting cardboard hair, slicing down legions of roaring pearl as death hunts hollow-eyed below. Her Majesty holds court, amid the percussion of steel and plate, a matador to shadows that clasp their hands and dance around, as clouds hammer rain to the ground.
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Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
The Queen of Absentia
The Queen of Absentia rises from royal stool to watch the moon set sheathed in broiling cloud as she skips whirling adders that hiss in fat jagged coils, their hollow blades jutting death in sprinkler sprays of misting veils and her head is hypethral; a Gaudi shipping container soldered in reptile curves, licked by arrowheads of falcate flame as she rounds its laughing corners; an adderaled lab rat, eyes black funnels drinking electrodes pulsing crimson and the stars are crackling in the pan as she     sees planets torn shrieking down Hell’s hungry plughole as fallen Gods divide by zero and the clock’s skittering claws scratch prophecies of consequence of poorly sewn seams, but she smiles like a risen crocodile and says,      ‘you’re just jealous cos the              voices only talk to me.’ And again she dives as unwanted advice gibbers up out snapping drains, and power points shoot sharp blue spears lighting substrates of ancient horror, inchoate but fattening before her eyes as she sits, wrapped in ghosts, guarding her ochre tea in its chalice of steaming bone, trying to sell herself a ticket to tomorrow’s sunrise, staring at thunderheads bunching up satin over sodden ninjas sprouting cardboard hair, slicing down legions of roaring pearl as death hunts hollow-eyed below. Her Majesty holds court, amid the percussion of steel and plate, a matador to shadows that clasp their hands and dance around, as clouds hammer rain to the ground.
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37
**Self analysis? Or self induced creative paralysis? There's a fine line Between correcting, perfecting... and losing your spine Mine Is a critical look at what I do And it's a positive, laid back method too Go with the flow Make you read it quicker/faster/sprinting Michael Johnson... or, slow... mo' "These new generation poets, they just don't know no more"... They say The older generation, fail to understand how we play With words... swim with the sharks And glide with birds Dangerous sometimes... poetic cliffhanger Still stronger Faith is unbreakable... diamond lasts longer You see? It's 'kicking', like a thousand ninjas... And Bruce Lee.**
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Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 1:33 PM UTC
Self analysis.
*Good sir, I remember when our adventure first began At that party, among many hugs and the odd “I love you man!” After that life has never been quite the same You brought another sun into my world, for me to bask in its flame In time we got to know each other and it grew brighter until You made me a Protagonist, and I joined you in battling evil However, you were so sad for reasons only you can really know For its true the greatest enemy lies within, and it’s not easy to show But we all cared for you so much, and again our days grew brighter After all, you are a Protagonist, and at heart the greatest fighter Together we overcame all, defeating the darkness we ever faced With the mages power, the warriors skill, the ninjas stealth and haste And while you may sometimes feel sad, as the good-hearted often do I will always say; this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you For when you tire from life’s battles, and all others fail or flee I will always be by your side, for you to lean on me Even when I leave the world, and am set free of this mortal coil My spirit will be there to guide you, through all hardships and toil Though I think you will seldom need me, no matter your feelings hue Because you possess a  unique soul, one Beautiful, Strong, and True Though yet many sunny days and moonlight night lay ahead, filled with laughter, good times and a friendship most epically won I think our adventures, Sir Brandin, have only just begun*
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
To Brandin
We strike when it's dark, And we will rip your neck. We sneak in the shadow, We will strangle you to death. We are one, too much to handle, We will mutilate you, armed with a blade and a sickle. We are the wind that blows silently, We are ninjas that kills stealthily. You can run as far as you can, We will shred you to pieces with our shurikens. Don't breathe too hard we can hear your heart beats, Our katana will pierce through your heart till' it no longer beats. We have the heart of an assassin, We live shredding blood of those who are unworthy. We cleanse the world of the cunning corruptionist, **** one, save a thousand! We are sworn to **** as cold as can be.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
The Silent Assassin
Take me back to the days When we were artists With the clouds as the paint, With the sky as the canvas; Who sang their hearts out In front of the electric fan Which became the microphone and auto-tuner. Take me back to the days When we were adventurers Who ran outside after morning showers to Find the end of the rainbow Hoping to meet a fellow Who can grant our greatest wish That tomorrow would be sunnier than today; Who balanced between life and death Every grocery shopping with our mothers As we carefully tried to avoid the lines of the tiles which We believed was made up of deadly red lasers. Take me back to the days When we were heroes: Scientists who calculated the intensity of the rain In the race of raindrops that Roll down the car window In the pouring traffic jam. Ninjas who would wake up early to Catch the floating dusts that swim in the sun's rays When you open the curtains of the wide window. Generals of an army who built Mighty forts of cotton and feathers and Found safety beneath warm pillows and sheets On dark and windy nights. Take me back to the days When we were Engineers, Doctors, Politicians, Pilots, Astronauts, and Teachers Take me back to the days When we were Who we wanted to be.
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
Take me back
we'd wake up and play with magic like any other game of pretend bath towel tied into a cape we'd approach an empty plastic top hat wand in hand   we were tapping into an ancient power that we barely even knew we've played a superhero, Sub-zero and now, a miracle worker there was nothing we couldn't do   we'd climb trees to the summit branches as high as we'd dare to go we'd lower the hoop and dunk with ease alley-oops, 360s sometimes in slow-mo   there was nothing but room to grow and explore frontiers of the imagination seized on roller blades with plastic swords   we'd tie skateboards to the back of bicycles and Jamaican bobsled down the street we were free ninjas in the 90s off to adventures no one sees   we'd front roll down hills like hedgehogs we'd scrape knees we'd footrace to the stop sign and back to pretend we're going faster we'd kick clouds of dust in our tracks   we'd steal bricks from the neighbor's garden and throw them into lakes to see the splash we'd throw pebbles to see how high they'd go or paper planes from the top of the staircases one time, we jumped off: it was a dare we did it though   we unscrewed the air cap from the tires of our enemies' parked cars we clapped back with super soakers the block was truly ours   we'd play until the streetlights came on with more discoveries left unseen and in the shadows while sleeping we'd play catch with our dreams
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May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
Free Ninjas
I wake up No breakfast  today, life's much to fast. A cup of coffee will do So I set the coffee maker, turn on the shower, And lose myself in the mirror. All the while watching, Waiting. Waiting for something But finding nothing in the end This morning is not my own It belongs to someone else I once read on a dollar bill a few years back that “You can't sing the blues without blood on your hands, And you've got blood on you hands.” I spent that dollar but the blood staid on my hands. We absolve our tender memories Of what it was like to be children To not have worry on our brows To have an unstoppable imagination which could build floating boats and mega droids the size of skyscrapers. An imagination that would make us all ninjas and princesses and cow boys and girls Each of us have saved the world with a cardboard swords and index finger barrels and gun hammer thumbs Now, we sing requiems of missed messages All for a few lousy blood soaked dollars.
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Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 2:47 PM UTC
Absolving Tender Memoires I
Thank you Costco for not calling the cops as 3 dark ninjas ran through your gate fought over chocolate pondered over flowers crashed carts into books and then disappeared.
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Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Costco
I am not a Savior. I am not a Killer. I am not Lover, Warrior or even myself. I am not alive or dead. I am a Dreamer. I have died trying to save the one I love, Only to awaken without her. Parts of me missing, Replaced parts mechanical in nature, And electric in soul.   Spurred by the government to do their bidding. I only go on to find my love again. I have flown you over the river. Shown you the most romantic gestures. I have died in your arms. My funeral was touching. When you died in mine I died to. Reborn in the spirit of vengeance. Never resting till I avenge you. I am hero warrior. Battling demons, ninjas and everything else. I am humble in my sword and fist. Power in my bones. You can count on me. I am Death, A Monster born of my own darkness. Deep inside It arises. Razes my soul. Spreads its carrion wings. It wants nothing but destruction. I hides in the fires that blaze. Turning this world to ash. I am a Dreamer I am a Dream
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Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
Day Dreaming
Wtfux a satan? Who the hell is God? Two sides of the same coin? Do they work for the same guy? Twelve foot ninjas fall from the sky. Are we even ready for the apocalypse?
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
Them
i trip my life on turpentine. i smoked my wife, she's clandestine. i woke up to a wall, of dust and a mirror shattered by these insisting dreams. everything is three -- i thought myself a pool of doubt, he bought my ego, cut in halves. i walked behind his flawless steps, covered in sweat. i flinched. i read a tale of the disintegration of a rowdy generation. a touch of a glimpse of her bare feet. and a single gray hair, coming out of her neck - trying to speak. i might've screamed. apples and oranges and almonds on a one way street. i read about the disintegration, of a vibration - within your chest. i think you're dead. you disagree! protesting my funeral, of a glimpse of your skin. i've lived on a fleet, of preachers and secret fighters -- dressed like ninjas and decaying in an utter rut. seiged by truth - and one correct turn to exit amongst shivers and loud moans flames & dirt loans creases and a handful of drones. i tripped my life on fastened seats. i smoked your hair, you're fast asleep.
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Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 11:04 AM UTC
crossing 7
Memories of the past It was such a blast But you blink and its all flown by Remember chillin' on the corner laughing at the guys? Not thinking about a job, or the struggle, or the how-to's of the hustle. Listening to music and dreaming such and such. When the black outs would come on the streets, and we got to be ninjas as we all roamed the street Christmas with family getting told 'you're so big' Nowadays these kids have kids Stealing kisses in the shadows of the day We were innocent once Looking the world in wonder and chasing everyday Never had time to wonder if someone was gay. Times changing fast Seconds to months and we barely understand Childhoods lost in photos staring back with knowing smiles. Look around Today is the past, isn't that wild?
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Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 11:13 AM UTC
Grown
Why would you throw elephants at me? Especially pink, purple, and orange Stuffed ones smaller than my tiny hand? Oh mommy, why do you enjoy throwing elephants at me? Is it because we be so abbynormal or because of all your coffee making you uneasy? Did you fall off your pet unicorn When you threw the soft elephants at me mommy? Was there love in your heart when you did it? Or was it because i made you laugh so hard you cried in the middle of starbucks in front of All those cute dudes? Arent we friends mommy? Dont we send ninjas to stalk peoples Who think we're odd And then ride dragons across perfectly blue skies? Oh mommy why dos you throw elephants at me
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Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
Elephants Flying through the air
The red folk and the purple people were distinctive in their hue.  In contrast, the Set Up bunch were chameleon, and to the casual observer they could pass for members of the congregation. That was by design, to be known only by their levite nature, their early arrival and late departure and (if you looked closely) by their hands. The early bunch had remarkable hands. They were strikingly ready and willing, and could be turned to a wide variety of tasks. They could never be described as specialist, and would never wish to be.  Their true specialty, if they have one, is only to be quick to serve and slow to draw attention to themselves.   If they were ever persuaded to wear team tee shirts, they would have 'Ninja' brazoned across the back.  And that would be kinda cool.
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Jul 22, 2024
Jul 22, 2024 at 8:49 AM UTC
Sunday Morning Ninjas