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"nis" poems
you toss my feelings back and forth like a tennis ball. It was so asinine to think you cared at all. you make it out like you wanna meight, but end up stealing my heart, which isn't condusev in my healing. You make me six. With me, you didn't have a rival. I used to think you were necessary for my surfivel. therefour, from here on, I won't allow you to crush me, no more threel seeing my reaction when you touch me. I don't understand people who just get together to make you think you won and blow you off like a feather. I half had enough and this topic's not moot, I have zeroed in on my target and i am ready to shoot.
0
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
countdown to heartbreak
"Ah took a swing." He said. His profile raised, he drops his head to his left, to face me with his lazy eyes. I was becoming forgetful second by second of the dull bulb that hung over my nerves; our skin. He bared his teeth intentionally, it seemed. "And cracked open his skull." His eyelids would always droop down. But he had wild eyes. We had a description once, "Satan's eyes." she said. Right before having another seizure. T'was a god-crazed epileptic; just our luck. "But ah didn't see 'at. Y'see, it ull 'ent black. But ah wus swingin'. Ah know ah was. Ah felt'et." He was lying. Those hits were too spot on. Intentional. Angry. Mad. Ravishing. "Ah know y'like me doc. Ah c'n see it in ye face. Ye legs. 'Ey shake when ah speak 'bout how they bled." My legs shook.. His voice trailed off into a raspy ending, a whispered sound. "How they begged." The inside of my mouth was flooding with saliva. ..How embarrassing.. He smiled. "'Ee should be pot'nis, ye know. We'd make a pretty couple." There was a pause, almost too long, before he blinked slowly and opened his eyes to observe a crack on the wall to his right. He had complained about it before, "'Tis too fuckin' noticeable." He'd say. He wanted it to be like the other walls. He wanted it to be neat and gray. So it wouldn't be excluded, so it wouldn't stand out. So it wouldn't be treated differently, wrong. So it wouldn't suffer the injustice of the majority. He hated things being out of place. Mostly because he was sick of being out of place himself. Ironic, I'd say. He had a passion for making a mess out of his victims. Ring.. The timer. Ring.. Ring.. "See ye t'morrow doc." Ring.. My legs were planted to the ground he smiled on. Ring.. Ring.. ..I think I love you. Ring.. Ring.. Ring..
0
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
*******
"Ah took a swing." He said. His profile raised, he drops his head to his left, to face me with his lazy eyes. I was becoming forgetful second by second of the dull bulb that hung over my nerves; our skin. He bared his teeth intentionally, it seemed. "And cracked open his skull." His eyelids would always droop down. But he had wild eyes. We had a description once, "Satan's eyes." she said. Right before having another seizure. T'was a god-crazed epileptic; just our luck. "But ah didn't see 'at. Y'see, it ull 'ent black. But ah wus swingin'. Ah know ah was. Ah felt'et." He was lying. Those hits were too spot on. Intentional. Angry. Mad. Ravishing. "Ah know y'like me doc. Ah c'n see it in ye face. Ye legs. 'Ey shake when ah speak 'bout how they bled." My legs shook.. His voice trailed off into a raspy ending, a whispered sound. "How they begged." The inside of my mouth was flooding with saliva. ..How embarrassing.. He smiled. "'Ee should be pot'nis, ye know. We'd make a pretty couple." There was a pause, almost too long, before he blinked slowly and opened his eyes to observe a crack on the wall to his right. He had complained about it before, "'Tis too fuckin' noticeable." He'd say. He wanted it to be like the other walls. He wanted it to be neat and gray. So it wouldn't be excluded, so it wouldn't stand out. So it wouldn't be treated differently, wrong. So it wouldn't suffer the injustice of the majority. He hated things being out of place. Mostly because he was sick of being out of place himself. Ironic, I'd say. He had a passion for making a mess out of his victims. Ring.. The timer. Ring.. Ring.. "See ye t'morrow doc." Ring.. My legs were planted to the ground he smiled on. Ring.. Ring.. ..I think I love you. Ring.. Ring.. Ring..
Continue reading...
56
A world bereft of censorship Would fraught with peril be The populace could fck and sht With b*llocks swinging free The t*tties most voluptuous Assorted a*ses too Could slap together merrily On c*cks, ***** and true Words like b*stiality Might find a daily use How else could someone f*st a sheep Or p*netrate a goose? Teab*gging would hit the news And maybe anl flching P*nis fighting might break out Or rampant fa*ny belching Censorship will save your eyes And stop you going blind But though you might not see the words I've put them in your mind You can’t hide from profanity Behind a single star Why disguise things from yourself? You’ll still know what they are
0
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
An Ode to Censorsh*p
Middle aged couple. playing ten nis when The game ends and they go home the net Will Still be be tween them
0
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
40-love
Cut and gone. It was easy. Why? you would ask. Cut and gone. It was easy. You see, for some trans folk, most I dare say, it's not cut and gone. Your name, the way people used to call you, to know you to be with you. It's not easy. That's why, many of us grow multiple heads. One for my family who wouldn't love me, one for my closest friend, whom I trust; one for the random person who reads my poetry online... I'm fed up with it. I don't want to keep having multiple heads, I want my family to know me for who I am, not the head I made out of their memories. I want to be me, and I'm Nis. That's why I came out on twitter, that's why I'm erasing this pen name and letting my true head speak, that's why I will be soon cutting contact with those that refuse to see me for who I am. This is the end of Headless Starfish, but I'm not gone, so be it. I cut it, and it is gone.
0
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
One head less, dear Starfish
Es gold harrow seep duo's Love emotions swin gently rain, palmers kith whom/ love, bitter till is better not slain. lists much ago groan sweet Iovo nor de-zenith conduce axis path may perch peril and float insect-grave, thoughts kept stay hidden along day 'ivers before she temper trembled passed, shout stalk fortune be-speak, thy slitter salut en-grave sow cutter-clots peer sleep?' lone on a island, o joy being desert till pierce a-moon reflection, behandle a word-stone “lay ignition breast she will orbitals known.” sky lineark clouds image Sweetheart. Jorney journals upon IY Return, “hor hours class throne love, markings or tember yearn.” “may pay not circle anylonger, Sweetheart, but kiss again & kiss again?” “engine of ego-nis steam eyes or march high horns again.”
0
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
The SUn Sounds In Wind
I heard your call, and I immediately ran, To hold you close, and to hold your hand. We stand together now, by our sky-blue sea, With no more angst, our souls forever fly free. And when you call, I swear I will answer. And when you sing, I’ll be your dancer. By all the stars, our dreams will come true. Upon your whim, I’ll be beside you. So in this moment, make your wish, my dear, And whisper your grace, forever, in my ear. ///// Chuala mi do ghairm, agus ruith mi sa bhad, Gus do chumail dlùth, agus do làmh a chumail. Tha sinn a ’seasamh còmhla a-nis, ri taobh na mara speur-ghorm againn, Leis nach eil barrachd angst ann, bidh ar n-anaman gu bràth a ’sgèith an-asgaidh. Agus nuair a dh ’iarras tu, tha mi a’ mionnachadh gum freagair mi. Agus nuair a bhios tu a ’seinn, bidh mi nam dannsair agad. Leis na reultan air fad, thig ar aislingean gu buil. Air do chuim, bidh mi ri do thaobh. Mar sin anns an àm seo, dèan do mhiann, a ghràidh, Agus seinn do ghràs, gu bràth, na mo chluasan
0
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
I'll Be Your Dancer
mi·sog·y·nis·tic Mesthenth throope Drops a dime a day makes the day a lesser​ pain And spreads the pain For gain.
0
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC
Money, money