"nintendo" poems
I admit I do not understand
People staring at their hands
A tiny screen controls their eyes
Electronic lows and highs
Folks all wander to and fro
Directed by Pokémon Go
One's free will is all but dead
With Nintendo now deep in your head
It's great to be out in the sun
But, can you really call this fun
The best part though, I think to me
Is the collisions between man and tree
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
I live in the birth of Nintendo vs Sony vs Sega
Trying to beat that high score in the Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat
Combat with a K
That innovative ****
I survived the destruction of Sega Dreamcast
As they became third party
And Microsoft took their place with Xbox and Ninja Gaiden
Alive from that old arcade
I live in the awing of the interactive Wii
And internet friendly Playstation 3
I also live in the original Mario Bros and Pac Man and...
Terminator vs. Robo-Cop
Yea
I bet you don't remember that one
Or Galaga or Excitebike
Or even that good old
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Spacce Invaders!
Yea, I'm from Nintendoland
No... Segaworld
Nah... Sony City
Nu uhn... Microsoft...
Can't even think of a place for that
I am from that video gamer nation
That fight, hack, slash, race, create, explore, role-play
Even play those insane sports
See I'm from that...
See, I am from that...
I am from that
Video gamer heaven descended
That has that powerful curiosity and love for that
Space Invaders!
No
That love for all video games
And that memory of the ****** game graveyard
Where E.T. now resides...
See, I'm part of the new gen
Trying to play Street Fighter 4, Final Fantasy XIII, Star Ocean
Saying "I go harder than you young bloods cause I played
Space Invaders!"
So, what era am I from?
I'm from the era of all gamers
Playing Space Invaders
Space Invaders!
I'm from the
"Game of the Year goes to..."
Mario, Tekken, Metal Slug
Namco, Sega, Bandai, Konami
All those companies that started as something else
But realized their calling was for our nation
Cause you see
I'm from that
Old school Nintendo
New School Wii
Old school Playstation
New school PS3
Old school Sega
New school Microsoft 360
I'm from a legacy that always succeeds in giving us dreams
That always seem to revert back to that
Old school
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Space Invaders!!!!!
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
“T'was the night before Christmas ...”
and Santa was busy.
The reindeer were antsy
the elves in a tizzy.
The missus was tending
the ovens like mad
And turning out cookies
to make children glad.
The wood chips were flying
the sawdust was thick
The workshop was bulging
with toys from St. Nick.
Contractors from Sega,
Nintendo and Sony
Were working on games
(and a robotic pony).
Iphones and Ipads
(with virus removal)
Were packed in their boxes
and stamped "Elf Approval".
Last minute touches
were added with flair
While elf stylists tended
to Santa's white hair.
Elf tailors were making
some last alterations
To Santa's red coat
and his waist tribulations.
The weather was fair
as the weather-elf stated
The routes were approved
and departure was slated.
Bells had been polished
and harnesses buffed
While repairs were addressed
for the hoofs that were scuffed.
The antlers were festooned
with ribbons and bells
And the reindeer were covered
with elf flying spells.
The clock approached
midnight as Santa was seated.
The countdown began
as the flight crew was greeted.
H-hour neared
and the tension was growing.
Outside it grew cloudy
and then, began snowing.
But Santa just grinned
as the weather-elf winced.
"Don't worry, my friend.
Our time has commenced."
For the weather was nothing
to Santa's conveyance.
His reindeer and sleigh
were immune to"delay-ance".
With a whirl of his whiskers
and a flick of his wrist
The reindeer were launched
in a flash of white mist.
And I heard him exclaim
through his teleport ray:
"ALERT TSA. Tell 'em
I'm on my WAY!"
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
the magnolia was a bit of a *******
(as far as trees can be ********
and like very many other things—
like japanese candy from the Fugi Mart in Greenwich
(across from the McDonald’s and next to
the music shop where I got my viola)
and like pokemon cards and nintendo gaming systems
and like Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi” on a pink CD in a Hello Kitty radio
—that ******* of a magnolia was a distinctive taste
of the years I spent growing up in my house at the end of Wyndover Lane.
the ******* thing was almost perpetually in bloom.
it barged into both spring and autumn
(it didn’t give a **** about timing)
those pink and white spongy petals padding the ground
and at first you think it’s ******* beautiful
sitting in the crook of the trunk where it split into
two large
separate branches
tilting your chin back to catch a glimpse of blue between fat blossoms
then the petals start rotting
water-retentive little *******
and you can’t sweep ‘em away because they stick to the patio
brown clumps slipping under rubber soles
my dad lets loose a string of curses
and the magnolia shakes with laughter
I tried pressing the petals in a notebook once
while I was in that naturalist phase it seems all little girls go through
when you make fairy houses out of bark in the backyard
and put flowers between the pages of books because it feels
oh-so-much-more significant
than picking a pretty thing and showing it to mom
but the magnolia seeped through my spiral ring
and when I opened it up a month later they were dry tan papery things
not at all velveteen and rosy
and there were garish pink bloodstains all through the ten pages
on either side
magnolias don’t preserve well
except, honestly they do don’t they
then of course there’s that childhood tragedy that everyone has
when your dog got hit by some soccer mom’s suburban
or your teddy bear was lost in an airport
or maybe you just liked to cry because some things
were just really worth the tears at the time
but when I came home and found out they cut down my ******* ******* of a magnolia
I bawled
there wasn’t
even
a
stump.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
island summer heat
big backyards
shared by three families
with rambunctious kids
sundresses, sandals, swim trunks
a big mango tree and
a merry-go-round with red chipped paint
geckos and mud baths
"boy's got cooties!"
mid-west plains' dry, summer heat
Mr. Sun is our lamp well past 9:00pm
Dow St., a giant hill covered
in uniform houses, filled with the uniformed sacrificial
spinning wheels, acre-wide hide and seek
nintendo and donkey kong, fireflies in jars
front yard mulberry trees
pippy longstocking "lets' go into this 'cave' of vines"
poison-ivy
southern peninsula, humid, summer heat
above ground pools and trampolines
a red brick house; the first home
the first CD collection, Filipino food
THE PARK,
the sandbox lid drowning in the bayou
sleeping in guest rooms, sleepovers a sign of status
pelicans, ducks, fishing,
sleeping in the boat; camping on the beach
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
Whose job is it to make sure our kids are educated properly.
The parents are putting all the blame solely on me.
I was always told that a parent is a child's first teacher.
Although, you want to place the blame on the public school system and teachers.
Why doesn't he know how to read and tie his shoe?
But....he can unlock different levels that were unknown to you.
Nintendo's Wii, PS3 and Xbox 360 are more important to you and your children....not a lesson sent home from me.
He can count to 25.....although he doesn't recognize the numbers when he sees them.
Parents continue to say that I don't teach enough and I don't know what I'm doing.
My response is this.....some of you ruin the children. You want to be their friend and dress them in name brand clothes and sneaks.
Meanwhile....he doesn't recognize the seven days that create the week.
I asked him to read and he became upset and pushed his book on the floor.
He used inappropriate language and said "I don't want to be in this class anymore!
He's in seventh grade and reads on a first grade level.
So....my question is this.....is it my fault or the teachers who came before?
That he's not on grade level when he enters my door.
Homework rarely comes back when I send it home.....although he has a new iPod and an iPhone.
The interNet and social media.....has a strong hold on our youth.
The sad thing about this is......people won't admit that this has a hint of truth.
It still takes a village to raise a child....but things are not the way they used to be.....and you can't tell people about the children that live under the same roof.
We need to go back to the core principals of teaching our children. Teaching begins at home. That's where I first learned....to read and to write.
A little discipline never hurt anyone....it encourages them to learn and to do things right.
My question to you and it's open for discussion ......
Whose job is it ?
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
Where I’m From
I am from wires,
from electricity and TV screens.
I am from the dust covering the console.
(Piled high, thick,
It made me sneeze)
I am from the Sega Genesis
the Nintendo
Who has long been forgotten
amongst the shiny new games.
I am from controllers and memory cards,
From Mario and Sonic.
I’m from the hard core gamers,
And the once-in-a-whiles,
From You win! And Game over!
I’m from Thou saveth the princess
With Donkey and Diddy
And 10 cheats I know by heart.
I’m from GameStop and Best Buy,
brand new plastic and overheating console.
From the controller thrown across the room
To the memories,
bonding brother and sister.
In my closet is a box,
filled with old games,
scratched up discs
that will never again work
I am from these games
created before I was born,
born from the tree of electronics.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 4:33 PM UTC
The poem that I'd never write..
The kind of poem that'd show me in a different light.
I scoff at Benja F bills
Women come and go,
I be popping pills that make the world turn slow.
I yolo ********
Holler at team swag,
Money and the *******
Tell her throw it in the bag..
That's the kind of poem that I'd never write.
The kind of poem where I ****** everyone in sight.
I keep it real hood.
Gangster all day.
Look me the wrong way,
Dead body in the hallway.
You don't want no problems,
I'm strapped like Velcro,
Dummy I don't play no games, Nintendo.
This made little sense,
something wasn't right.
This is the kind of poem I would never ever write.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
Many people get the wrong idea as to what certain abbreviations stand for, so I'll clear it up for you.
Nintendo DS: Nintendo Derek Sanderson
NES: Neely Esposito Sanderson
WC: Wayne Cashman
3D: 3 Docders
SOS: Help
PE: Phil Esposito
ER: Erwin Rommel
SD Card: Sanderson, Derek Card
RC Car: Rodney Crowell Car
GPS: Girls' Phrases ****
BRB: Bring Reagan Back
TTYL: Ta Ta You Loser
BC: Bourque Cashman
TYMDPMFGMTITMTP: Thank You MrDrProffessor Murly For Giving Me The Idea To Make This Poem
NSA: 'Nuff Said Already
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
Born heavy as adorned many: objectivity lifts ready existance carried more steady with the fist than a switchblade as to fist crave: yall just manisfest id shame when you spit back like all my family here to spit crack bone in been gripped back when at grown taught to **** Macks;
I'm the R to the Mack Marck M heavy to my fam born carried since Nas dropped the bomb that Eminem levied in so to spit back, like ghost spittin the **** shittin at all emcees here to spit back:
only time you'd get a note outta me relative is when i'm posing for death: like tupac menacing his pelvis still for the ****** levy in neglection in pics wack;
i spit bone quick when it comes to being notorious in a jacuzzi playing sega and super nintendo **** be in disrespect to ever understand that i don't spit thick back.
i flow sick that before i flow spit that between to post ****
I pose **** to even to boast fits forgotten what the Ohmegaus finds the rest as undereducated life in being in the sun.
Ghost spittin future written past to see all the conjugatives relative like ****** games on the run:
games on the fun like extension big sides as big sizes like chasing dreams again straight to the the sun is what we've become.
unfinished...
this ain't motherfucken games, and you know id through wish-epic
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
Maybe you just don't understand,
I don't think you'll ever guess,
That I would rather curl up with a book
than play on your Nintendo DS.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
The violet sky stood bashful against the dimming horizon. Stark trees sprang from the ground, flourishing in dots midst the blushing stars.
Street lights flicker on, reminding me of how mom didn't have to yell for me to come home, the lights whispered it to me, carried in the caressing breeze.
I'm reminded in the spring, of the day me and my friend ran into the pelting rain and jumped through puddles, soaking our bodies in high pitched laughter and impending colds.
I'm always reminded in the summer months, how everyone including myself, preferred water from the hose over water from the tap. Or how we'd run rampant through the field behind my house, screaming against the heat.
The broken sidewalk reminds me of the time when we all thought we were cool for trying to smoke cigarettes we stole from our parents.
I fell in love with patches of clovers more than that of a boy's selfish smile. I was more in love with the act of collecting lady bugs as pets rather than holding a hand pushed into mud.
I preferred shallow swimming pools over the small voice of a boy asking me if i had other friends like them. Or how the beam of the sun was better than the beam of a slender, pale face with blue eyes.
Blind and innocent children, we fell in love with things we could touch or splash in. We fell in love with the beautiful colors and characters in our favorite Saturday morning cartoons. When we weren't playing cops and robbers, we were lost in a world of SEGA and Super Nintendo 64. We were infatuated with a world that never altered, but our vision cleared of.
We were saturated in a time where our only big worry was making sure we got our recess time. And when the smog cleared we realized our biggest worry was making our parents proud.
And it seems that it should be the other way. We should be proud of the kid our parents raised.
But ultimately, the monsters under our beds became the demons in our heads.
And the kid your parents raised
slowly became the kid you wish your parents never had.
There won't be a day in my life where i wish i could fall in love with the sound of an ice cream truck, or the animals at the end of my bed again.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
I've Put So Much Into This,
I'm Not Going To Give Up Now.
Your Happy To **** Me,
To Show Me Your Deepest Passion.
But You Wont Let Me In,
What's Your Problem,
Your Afraid Of Being Used,
But Happy To Use Me.
I Knew From The Second That I Set Eye's On You You Were Trouble,
But Being Arrogant I Went On,
Now I Am Sitting Here,
Wondering What Happened.
Why Am I The One With These Feeling's?
What Did I Do Wrong?
You Were My Blue Eyed, Blond Hair Girl,
Most People Would Call You The Perfect Trophy.
I Now Know You To Be The Perfect *****
Building Me Up Like That Every Time,
So You Could Just Walk Away And Watch Me Tumble Down.
But I Still Can't Give You Up,
You Are My Worst Habit,
That Hook That Got Me Good,
I Need My Fix,
But You Deny It.
Why Do This,
Is It A Game To You?
Because I Feel Like A Used Nintendo 64,
Just Sitting In The Corner Covered In Dust,
Just Waiting For Your New Play Station To Quit On You.
Is That What I Am To You?
Just A Fall Back?
Am I That Thing You Don't Really Want But Just Keep In Case?
Or Do You Want More From Me?
I Don't Know,
This Is Starting To **** Me Now,
These Question's Hurt More Than The Scrutinising Look We Have Shared On More Than One Occasion.
I Want More,
I Need More,
I Need You.
I'm Not Ready To Be Your Little Bit On The Side Or Back Up Any More,
I Deserve More,
No One Deserves This.
Please Be Humane,
Put Me Out Of My Misery!
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 7:24 PM UTC
a mysterious lady told me i am a landlocked mermaid:emerged from the ocean with legs and a shine i can't lessen even though others might try to make me.
i now give much heed to mysterious ladies.
girls i grew up playing Nintendo with are having babies and starring in their own personal generic happily ever Mormon afters
and the guys are being shipped off straight from high school to preach a gospel they neither understand nor care about,
two years of being ***** and righteous and shrink-wrapped in guilt.
i think they are the landlocked ones
i am getting out of this ocean-less place with a tactic that goes a little something like
throwing a dart and chasing it with my eager feet wherever it may go.
Jun 29, 2011
Jun 29, 2011 at 10:46 AM UTC
Love isn’t a feeling
Love isn’t an action
Love isn’t a person
Love is a place.
It’s the cave of wonders
It’s a hospital room filled with new life, balloons, and flowers
It’s an altar in a church in the countryside of a town unknown
while a man pleads for the soul you’re not ready to give.
It’s a tent pitched next to the lake while fish cook over a crackling fire
It’s a home with a swing-set in the backyard with a dog tied to a banana tree, while naked children dance through sprinklers.
It’s the treehouse in the neighbor's backyard
It’s a living room where friends sit and play Nintendo 64
It’s a bathtub with bubbles and a book and a beverage
Love isn’t butterflies in your stomach
It’s a butterfly garden at the city zoo on a hot Saturday morning
with butterflies flittering and fluttering and flattering around.
Love isn’t jumping in front of a train for someone
It’s the parking lot of a hospital you run through to stand by a death bed, reading from a Bible you haven’t opened in twenty years.
Love isn’t your parents or brothers or sisters or cousins or friends
It’s the patio screened in, with the rain tap dancing on its roof,
while a father of three snores peacefully in a rocking chair.
Love is Calvary’s hill
It’s a trustworthy bank
It’s a dog kennel jam-packed with the loyal, the faithful, the brave, and the true
Love is an underground railroad connecting those who belong together.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
It seems to me that the happiest people are people who barley have the,( I won't say necessities because that would mean to much to most of us in the US), let's say people who barley scrap by. Every day is a challenge to scrap up enough to eat and drink. These people seem to be closer to their families. They laugh more. They share more. They know what is in their brothers heart as well as what is in their own. They live a simple life spiritually and a hard life physically. No TV, no media, no Hollywood. Sometimes I wish I lived somewhere like Ethiopia or a hundred other places on this earth not bombarded every minute of every day with things. THINGS that are not important. To live where just to survive the day and have people to rejoice in that survival with is enough. Body and soul I long for the happiness that comes from a day well lived. We have become a nation that knows not how to live but how to be entertained. We never slow down to feel what's in our heart or to feed our souls. If we never listen to what is in our own heart how can we know what is in another heart. Oh just to live and not to judge. Is that possible? Can it be possible when we are bombarded with the latest, the greatest, the best of fashion, phone, game, religion? Who knows what I could do if I didn't have everyone telling me who or what I should be. And believe me it changes daily. We all look at these " less fortunate" people on TV or in a magazine and we feel sorry for them when it is ourselves that we must feel sorry for. What is to become of us. We are a most intriguing people, we who have done so many amazing things, and yet most of us feel sad or lonely. Yes, you have a beautiful home. Yes, you have people who love you. But wait, how do you know they love you?.....well of course they love you, their suppose to love you, after all you love them.....right. I mean that's the way the story goes....right? You know the story, the one you saw on Lifetime yesterday, while your loved ones were doing....ah what were they doing? Oh yes, your son was playing that new game, you know " **** Zombie **** on that PlayStation or Nintendo or something like that, and your daughter was at the mall buying the latest thing to make her feel beautiful, and your husband was.....well he was doing something on the computer. How can you love someone if you don't know who they are. How can you love someone if you don't know who you are. All of this technology may be bringing the world closer but who needs to know the world when they don't even know their own family....,or their next door neighbor, the one that shot himself yesterday. No one knows why. Please people , I beg you, put down the phone turn off the TV, go out on a date( not at the movies), but somewhere you can talk and get to know each other. And if you don't know what to say just say what's in your heart. After all that is what truly matters. If you can realize that most of the things in your life are meaningless then you too can have a life well lived. In the end isn't that all that matters. So for now I am signing out and switching off, and tuning in to my life. For all I wish is to have a life well lived.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
His name is Mario Mario and he was Nintendo's mascot.
He used to be Nintendo's biggest star but now he's not.
Nintendo fired Mario when they learned that he has a Playstation 4.
They didn't want an employee who plays the games of a competitor.
He thought Luigi would take up for him but he's the one who turned Mario in.
When Mario got done with him, he was sorry and he won't betray Mario again.
When Luigi turned his brother in, Nintendo agreed to let Luigi take his place.
After Mario beat Luigi senseless, he started jumping up and down on his face.
Luigi learned that turning his brother in was a really stupid thing to do.
Mario broke several of Luigi's body parts and his face looks like an old shoe.
Mario believes that Nintendo is dumb because they made his first and last names the same.
And the entire world is shocked because there will be no future Mario games.
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
he was a gangster in every meaning of the word
with a crew so malicious you'd think they were disturbed
they all went by dont make a thot a wife
cuase they all wanted that mario **** life.
moving bricks just to get paid
stomping anyone that gets in their way
getting some shrooms every ones in a while
and trying to get tail though luck or guile
one day, after what started as lewd innuendo
this girl put an end to his life like nintendo
an indian goddess man! she was divine
like a happy troller not a thing out of line
she was a kind engaging intellectual
but she wasn't looking for anything ******
she didn't want a bad ***
she was a girl who cared for social status
now he was no stranger to rejection
but this talk cut him off from multible babes like a c-section
she was different it felt like she was giving him a chance or
to his conundrum of a life she was the answer.
he was adam she was the forbbidan fruit
and he can't go back to the garden with a suit
but he didn't care so heworked like crazy
just to impress this amazing lady
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
1. Your cornflower blue eyes crinkled and laughing, sometimes flashing like the storms you love to chase
2. Your strawberry blond mop that smelled nothing like fruit but instead of sweat and grime, clinging to your brow when you removed that Pepsi baseball cap
3. Easter egg hunts on your birthday, like plastic flowers in melted snow and you up trees and on the roof of grandma's garage
4. Rare compromises that built tree forts or wound up the tire swing until it bounced and whirled its passenger like a spinning top
5. When everything you did, I wanted to do too--whether it was rescuing the princess or flying an X-wing
6. Diddy and Dixie Kong headlocked and tangled in armpits, wrestling for the Super Nintendo controller or for the remote for the VCR until Donkey had enough and made them both watch Barney
7. The laughter of you and your friends from the basement or slipping around the corner, back when I said “Me too” and meant “include me”
8. Games of war crouched behind the couches when the only war you dreamt about was the one in Narnia
9. The cliff in Hawaii over the smoking volcanic ocean water and Mom screaming for you to come down
10. When you push me, like the dominoes you used to line up and watch devotedly as they toppled over, one after the other because sometimes general incivility is the very essence of love.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 12:05 PM UTC
So it's your fourteenth birthday and you must compose a list
A list of anything you want as a birthday gift
But what if the thing you want is really hard to say
The one and only thing you want on this birthday
Most girls my age might want an ipad or a phone
New makeup, a Nintendo or a laptop of their own
But the only thing I want, it would forever last
The one simple thing in which is from my past
All I want is him. Oh, how I miss him
Late June marked three years since I've seen him
It's been too long we've been apart
I want him, yet distance keeps us apart
Oh him, the one. What love shared
In my head I felt he cared
He made me laugh, and never cry
Never could I say goodbye
So can you see, just try to see
That the one thing you can give to me
Though he stands alone on my list
I never got my birthday wish
#7_8/9/11
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
I.
Blurry green and brown shapes rush past me
at the speed of light, i spin around and around.
Trees, people and playground equipment blend together
in a whirlwind, i am spinning around so fast
i think i might die.
My small hands grip the edges of the black rubber tire.
i squeeze my eyes shut,
thinking that might make the dizziness stop
but it only makes it worse. Pain enters
my fingertips - my arms are ripping apart.
Still, i hold on. i’m afraid
that if i let go my head will hit the ground and my neck will snap.
i hear my brother’s laughter swirling around my head.
i want to beg him to stop the spinning
but i know that crying and pleading only makes this game last longer.
When i asked him to play this wasn’t what i had in mind.
So i wait quietly.
This will all be over soon.
II.
Darkness is all around me.
The one tiny hole near the lid of the toy box allows
only a sliver of light into my little wooden prison.
i run my fingers along the dark walls
beside me and all around me, feeling
the grains of the unfinished wood.
My finger catches a sliver and it stings
but i don’t cry because
crying only makes this game last longer.
The old toy box groans under the weight of my brother’s body.
i can hear his fingers mashing the Nintendo controller
and his feet kicking against the outside of the box.
When i asked him to play, this wasn’t what i had in mind.
If i wait quietly, he will eventually get bored
and this will all be over soon.
III.
The grass is wet and yucky underneath
my body, cold and slimy.
Rows of houses watch in judgement
against black suburban sky,
their inhabitants fast asleep and safe in their beds
while i lie here with this strange man’s ***** hands around my neck.
How did i get here? A few too many rounds
of vodka-fueled drinking games,
each sip burning up a piece of my awareness
until all i can comprehend is his heavy body
on top of me, his cold, unfamiliar eyes.
When i asked him to play, this wasn’t what i had in mind.
Each time my ragdoll head smacks the ground,
the sickening sound bounces between my eardrums.
He could easily ragdoll me to death.
i pray someone will step outside and end this game,
but screaming will only make him panic,
and wild animals can be unpredictable when cornered.
So i wait quietly and hope
this will all be over soon.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
sometimes words pour out of me. but mostly i pour them. what comes out is.. is..
monkey suit
ontology that thinks he thinks an original thought or two describes me.
i really need to grow up. act my age. get out of this
place. yuhknow?
hi friend. welcome to my scream of consciousness. boing.
do you ever ever wonder when or
how the was had -even- been,
or whatever? sky outside looks like nintendo again, full of intent and so forth.
yes, of c i feel fine. why, this primal horde is not mine. it's your sub sea too.
all have crawled from it. exchanged that'sfishy for this. ex-istence is weird, sorta.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
you?
made of pixels?
hah, if i wanted pixels i would have played nintendo 64 with my neighbour down the street and angrily whispered "h-e-double hockey sticks" under my breath as one of my pixelated hearts faded away.
you are anything but intangible; i can feel your pulse across two countries.
our hearts are undeniably made of flesh.
i know that word grosses you out,
but the blood pumping, orifice-filled organs in our chests constantly beat with the ferocity of 109 percussionists drumming on the queen's birthday.
hearts are not meant for beautification; one cannot get a cosmetic surgery on their heart to impress the girl next door.
it's up to you to pair with your just-as-ugly brain to prove how beautiful love can be.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC