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"nuh" poems
helping the kids with homework• no one told you, was part of the job description paycheck earner a-ok, gruff but tender lover, knowing her special places, building a tree swing, a tree house safe and satisfactory, one the neighbors envy taking them to the hospital for broken arms and chemotherapy, part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable, going to school to give that principal a look that will make him think twice before suspending one of his for defending himself you remember your daddy doing the same for you, forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later the tucking in, the pretense ouch when your end of day scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies, carrying tissues in a toolbox, never heard of, nevertheless done, tho not a memory defining the future inclusive, definitely a learning ability, a likeability doing homework, nuh uh, no way jose, don’t dare let them know how you never got a gold star, always sat in the back row, outta sight, all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery, and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much ain’t exactly his strong suit sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him, know where the on/off computer button hides, the rest is up to them; got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am, how to address humans with respect, i’ll promise them anything but not doing any homework, unless it the kind that that makes “a home work
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
helping the kids with homework
helping the kids with homework• no one told you, was part of the job description paycheck earner a-ok, gruff but tender lover, knowing her special places, building a tree swing, a tree house safe and satisfactory, one the neighbors envy taking them to the hospital for broken arms and chemotherapy, part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable, going to school to give that principal a look that will make him think twice before suspending one of his for defending himself you remember your daddy doing the same for you, forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later the tucking in, the pretense ouch when your end of day scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies, carrying tissues in a toolbox, never heard of, nevertheless done, tho not a memory defining the future inclusive, definitely a learning ability, a likeability doing homework, nuh uh, no way jose, don’t dare let them know how you never got a gold star, always sat in the back row, outta sight, all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery, and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much ain’t exactly his strong suit sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him, know where the on/off computer button hides, the rest is up to them; got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am, how to address humans with respect, i’ll promise them anything but not doing any homework, unless it the kind that that makes “a home work
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41
My Haseena late night pillow fights watching stars airplane flights Wow’ babe, come see the morning clouds With peaceful doves Flying above Wet kisses Like a washed dishes Sweat on yo breast Di* grew stronger Felt the touch of your hand on my hair And the other hand romancing my back just me and you After waiting for so long Oh my gosh, Yo high heels tinkling my legs Night gown wet I’m ready and set ***** shaved clean, nuh hair. My dear queen can I come in ? No! Not what you think I mean can I **** it ? Let me give you the legendary of me Dearie
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Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC
Passion of romance
Beat the Congo Blow the horn Wave your hand Out of many one people What a vibration In a this little island Even though we can’t live as one But when a party time We unite Nuh matter the culture (it doesn’t) We a full joy we self You have Rasta talking Christians praying Bay song playing (in the context Bay means a lot) Smiles on everybody faces Out many one people So come the Chinese, British, Syrians, Americans, Indians Every Caribbean and rest of the world Come to Jamaica And feel alright Listen some Bob Don’t carry no jewelry Because you will get rob But come and eat Have a feast Enjoy we beach Entertainment Energy a shot Drink a cold beer Relax under the coconut tree Feel free We have **** chicken Curry goat Festival, rice, Bammy Fry and steam fish Come enjoy we cultural dish Food galore Go back a your country Tell every boy and girl Say Jamaica nice We know say crime and violence Corruption A plague But don’t let that stop you Cause everybody welcome Nuh matter taste (It doesn’t) Come in a haste Cause we have a celebration Jam dung vibration Me a tell the politician Say me a send out a special invitation But first we yard need renovation Build up Jamaica And education Cause we live in a paradise Black, green and gold We proud and bold As we motto say Out of many one people. CHRISTENA ANTONIA VALAIRE WILLIAMS ©2012 JAMAICA
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Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
Out of many one people
“Top of the Morning to ‘Yuh, Guv’nuh.” Oh, to be father of a Cockney flower girl, To be Eliza Doolittle’s Dear old Dad, Alfred P. of that surname. Oh, to be a cockney dustman, On this fine day, Another fine day in Northern New Mexico, as I Sell my daughter to ‘Enery Iggins, or Some equivalent Princeton poofter. I am Rhett Butler, Daring blockade-runner, Persona –non-grata For any decent Family—including my own, Charleston Carolina. In time, I crave Social acceptance for Bonnie Blue—my ill fated Would-be equestrian offspring; I surrender my daughter to the Upper Class.
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
"My Fair Tara Lady"
The house is chaka chaka the guests are due tomorrow but wi hab di ting lack, Mon a Tap a di Tap is a comin' n' we nuh live nowhere but wi hab di ting lack, Mon now a storm's a-brewin' & the Babylon, they outside but wi hab di ting lack, mon but wi hab di ting lack
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
Wi hab di ting lack ( We're in control) - English translation follows
[Intro: Quavo] **** man. Brrrrtttttt Hello? What the hell you mean Ma? I ain't did **** **** [Hook: Quavo] Feds hit the spot man I ain't saying nothin They came around about 5 o' clock this morning (12!) They telling me I'm copping contraband from informants Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!) Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy Feds hit the spot say I'm copping from informants Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!) [Verse 1: Quavo] Yeah, yeah, Quavo I pick up my **** and then hit the door (Oh **** **** 12!) Surrounding my house and they kick the door (Boom! Boom!) "Don't move, get on the floor!" I hit the window and fell on the curb I'm trying to get up and take off, the officer speared me, like Goldberg Say "Where were you 3 o clock on the dot?" "My Momma's house" "You a ******* liar" Have you heard about your new worker? (Nah) Know I put him in your circle I witnessed you purchase the pound (nuh uh) I witnessed you purchase the brown (no you didn't) I witnessed you purchase the white (no!) Say goodnight down the road for a long flight [Hook] [Verse 2: Takeoff] Hot Boy like Silkk the Shocker, pull up on your blocka with the Waka Flocka Momma hit me on my cellular told me that Quavo got caught by the coppers **** They say they've been investigating and Migo gang we connected with the mobsters (Huh?) Can't talk to you ****** my lawyer talk. **** the prosecutor Mr. Marcus **** Lookin out of my window, I see a black truck and it's empty Walk to the door check the peephole (what that is man?) Then I start hearing a noise and it makes me paranoid **** Thinking what the **** is going on? (What the **** All of these tools like it's Autozone If I get caught I ain't coming home (No!) [Hook] [Verse 3: Offset] Offset! They said that I sold to informants I told them I just got off touring They circle my house like an orbit **** He telling me he gon extort me (huh?) 50% of my income, unfortunately he not gon get none Life sentence or freedom so pick one **** ***** you trying the wrong one **** ***** Quavo call my phone, his spot got raided it just got kicked in We all met up in the Westin Who know what the **** going on it ain't making sense (who know?) The police talking they got evidence I told you ****** bout serving them Mexicans (I told you ****** **** There go 12 **** I picked up my **** and I moved out the residence [Hook]
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May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Hot boy
[Intro: Quavo] **** man. Brrrrtttttt Hello? What the hell you mean Ma? I ain't did **** **** [Hook: Quavo] Feds hit the spot man I ain't saying nothin They came around about 5 o' clock this morning (12!) They telling me I'm copping contraband from informants Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!) Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy Feds hit the spot say I'm copping from informants Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!) [Verse 1: Quavo] Yeah, yeah, Quavo I pick up my **** and then hit the door (Oh **** **** 12!) Surrounding my house and they kick the door (Boom! Boom!) "Don't move, get on the floor!" I hit the window and fell on the curb I'm trying to get up and take off, the officer speared me, like Goldberg Say "Where were you 3 o clock on the dot?" "My Momma's house" "You a ******* liar" Have you heard about your new worker? (Nah) Know I put him in your circle I witnessed you purchase the pound (nuh uh) I witnessed you purchase the brown (no you didn't) I witnessed you purchase the white (no!) Say goodnight down the road for a long flight [Hook] [Verse 2: Takeoff] Hot Boy like Silkk the Shocker, pull up on your blocka with the Waka Flocka Momma hit me on my cellular told me that Quavo got caught by the coppers **** They say they've been investigating and Migo gang we connected with the mobsters (Huh?) Can't talk to you ****** my lawyer talk. **** the prosecutor Mr. Marcus **** Lookin out of my window, I see a black truck and it's empty Walk to the door check the peephole (what that is man?) Then I start hearing a noise and it makes me paranoid **** Thinking what the **** is going on? (What the **** All of these tools like it's Autozone If I get caught I ain't coming home (No!) [Hook] [Verse 3: Offset] Offset! They said that I sold to informants I told them I just got off touring They circle my house like an orbit **** He telling me he gon extort me (huh?) 50% of my income, unfortunately he not gon get none Life sentence or freedom so pick one **** ***** you trying the wrong one **** ***** Quavo call my phone, his spot got raided it just got kicked in We all met up in the Westin Who know what the **** going on it ain't making sense (who know?) The police talking they got evidence I told you ****** bout serving them Mexicans (I told you ****** **** There go 12 **** I picked up my **** and I moved out the residence [Hook]
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56
To John – who always told me, ‘I’m fine, it’s the rest of them’ You know that You’re kissing life’s *** When a girl chooses A weedy Airheaded Pompous Obnoxious Nothing Over you. You, with a big heart. A warm touch A sense of humour A sense of love And not just carnal desire. That, no man can do without She will not love you Nuh-huh, no way. And you’re thinking, Jesus: It’s either something he’s got that I haven’t Or indeed that They’re lacking something I’m not.
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Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 9:25 AM UTC
Karma
I taught you how to say my name correctly Uhn-juh-nuh and you taught me how to say the name of your hometown Can-an-day-gua. A fair exchange, perhaps. Canandaigua. Town that manufactured Arbor Mist, the cheap artificial wine I bought [being the only one of drinking age] that we drank all summer, well, until July when everything fell apart. In August When things settled down when you decided that you didn’t love me anymore, we issued that age old empty promise exes make: “We’ll still be friends.” Exchanged a few Facebook messages and that was that. I was never in love with you, but you still made it into my zine, and I still think of you from time to time, visit your Facebook page as if... well, who knows? It’s always the same with everyone I used to know, but Over is Over, no social media changes that. When I see that name: Canandaigua, I think of you, but it’s just another name and you’re just another Over.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Canandaigua
I hold the dice tightly in my palm I shake 'em and roll them on the floor I shut my eyes, hoping my desired number takes the day. 3 For dead end, 5 for Hope 8...misery! She loves me, she loves not She will take me back , nuh, she wont. Since when did my life become such a gamble? I roll All my care into one HUGE ball OUT the window!! Its I now. The light only in MY eyes. It doesn't go this way Enough is here the End has come! ©TheUnspoken
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
The END
transitional times *midst the ordinaries, not paying close attention, the yet to be baked batter of chatter while driving past the familiar, a plain pasta with butter conversation, the human carbohydrates of our racing consuming energy, she slips me up, by slipping in two words, her icing on the cake phrasing "transitional times" pull over to the side of Menantic Road in the early of the late afternoon, Saturday's reclining sunlight, question her closely, CIA taping her words to my brain: did she mean the late afternoon hours of our lives when reflection of sun sprinkles on our bay voyages us as voyeurs past the old longings and into the future recalling? perhaps, the au contraire, the steady stepping, sneaking away of the sheltering night so that the earth's inhabitants and organs may be revived in yellow golden greens of damp grasses and the whiteness of a Sunday's fresh milk? of course, of course, the times when the horizon calls, saying come to me, cross the transition to the newness of everything, in the ages and days of celebration of unfamiliar entrances?* No, no, she answers, bemusedly grinning, not everything is a poem, you thieving wordsmith, simply did I observe that having an extra pair of sunglasses in the car for transitional times was a good idea! *pulling back on the road that goes past the Tuck Ice Cream Shoppe, the island treasure hunt Dump, the ordinary homes on the range, all  along the way to the boatyard where are kept and stored and stockpiled each summer colored sunset evening along with the drinkable French pink Rose wines and gleaming yellow Sancerre and golden ales of Nantucket, I think to myself,* nuh uh, *every transition, every glorious mindless conversation, even in the town dump, treasures in each word, in everything, especially the extra extra-ordinaries, is a poem* June 25. 2017 5:20am
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Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 5:42 AM UTC
transitional times
transitional times *midst the ordinaries, not paying close attention, the yet to be baked batter of chatter while driving past the familiar, a plain pasta with butter conversation, the human carbohydrates of our racing consuming energy, she slips me up, by slipping in two words, her icing on the cake phrasing "transitional times" pull over to the side of Menantic Road in the early of the late afternoon, Saturday's reclining sunlight, question her closely, CIA taping her words to my brain: did she mean the late afternoon hours of our lives when reflection of sun sprinkles on our bay voyages us as voyeurs past the old longings and into the future recalling? perhaps, the au contraire, the steady stepping, sneaking away of the sheltering night so that the earth's inhabitants and organs may be revived in yellow golden greens of damp grasses and the whiteness of a Sunday's fresh milk? of course, of course, the times when the horizon calls, saying come to me, cross the transition to the newness of everything, in the ages and days of celebration of unfamiliar entrances?* No, no, she answers, bemusedly grinning, not everything is a poem, you thieving wordsmith, simply did I observe that having an extra pair of sunglasses in the car for transitional times was a good idea! *pulling back on the road that goes past the Tuck Ice Cream Shoppe, the island treasure hunt Dump, the ordinary homes on the range, all  along the way to the boatyard where are kept and stored and stockpiled each summer colored sunset evening along with the drinkable French pink Rose wines and gleaming yellow Sancerre and golden ales of Nantucket, I think to myself,* nuh uh, *every transition, every glorious mindless conversation, even in the town dump, treasures in each word, in everything, especially the extra extra-ordinaries, is a poem* June 25. 2017 5:20am
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39
In God we trust In  God  we  trust In   God   we   trust I nuh Gaw duh wii tr uhst Ein nuh GAHWD wiie TR UHST EINUH GAHHWD WEIIIE TR UUHS T **EEEEEI NUH GUH AW DH WUH EEIIIE TH RUH SS TH** **EEEEEI  NUH  GUH  AW  DH   WUH  EEIIIE  TH  RUH  SS  TH** **EEEEEI   NUH   GUH   AW   DH   WUH   EEIIIE   TH   RUH   SS   TH** EEEEEI    NUH    GUH    AW    DH     WUH   EEIIIE    TH    RUH    SS    TH**
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Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
In God We Trust
halter of progress bane of evolution frostbite of growth death of the future try to stop me now! I dare you! I know your tricks! your snarly ways! the maybes the sick feelings the doubtful thoughts the double-takes I know them all! every single one and you can’t stop me anymore! nuh-uh you can try, but you can’t! so now, be afraid! be very afraid! because world here I come and honestly, you’ve got no way to stop me (unless you **** me, of course.)
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Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 4:41 PM UTC
inhibition
I watched a Jehovah Witness lugging around 200 lbs of literature in a suit and tie on a 103 degree August day and I was thinking out loud, God, That can't be what you want from us is it?? What DO you want from us? and I heard in my soul the words "Turn on the radio" and I said nuh-uh!! and the voice said, "Yes, turn on the radio" and so I did and right on cue, the Dj said, we don't normally do this but we've got a request to play this song one more time! and it was this song.
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Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
youtube.com/watch?v=J4Bl_VQ2inM
cracks me up this erroneous error message, looks at me and states authoritatively nuh-uh, buddy, “it ain’t you you babe, it ain’t you we looking for babe” makes me crazy crying copiously betw snorting fits of eloquent derision why oh why is it daily savings time prematurely (immaturely) aging me, be it advancing decrepitude or just the AI’s sullen attitude? be it a secret messaging that my mother’s slow descent into senility, loss of speech is now me- visible to the all seeing eyes on a dollar bill, & or the iPhone genie? this erroneous messaging appears with an irregularity regular, just enough to make me think that this        is            not                   accidental come to nyC, come me to see, need an independent   judgement  summary please before the winter pale overcomes my poetic resistance and they park me in the backyard, where I can sit yet, studying for multiple hours the river-fed bay on its way to the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean, where the water will combine. all cells of each of our selected those chosen body’s of water, bodies now interring, while populating intermingling taking stingling diatoms from of each, they will kiss, greet, each other, with the clarity of recognition that our poetry has already bonded us in ways that are irrefutable, been coming long time geological formations new and old, still forces unstoppable foreseeing every, every ever
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Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 6:46 AM UTC
“Your Face Not Recognized”
IN GOD’S NAME, THE COMPASSIONATE MATLOOB BOKHARI O Most Gracious and Most Merciful God Who raised up the heavens without any support. Who forgave our first parents, Adam and Eve Who listened cries of Younus from depth of darkness Who rescued Nuh , and drowned who denied His signs Who ordered the fire to be cool and be safety for Ibrahim Who kept Yousuf away from the seduction of Zulaikhah Who blessed Musa a radiance white hand and a staff Who made Mary and her son a sign for the worlds Whose signs are the night and the day ; the sun, the moon Glory be Thee! O totally forgiving God, I repent to You Ask forgiveness in the name of Muhammad and his progeny I am most meek, I am most humble, I am most obedient O God Who pardons like a mother, I made big mistakes I am worst sinner, I confess my sins, I ask big forgiveness I have wounded my soul; I have gone astray, forgive me! Please forgive me! To err is human, to forgive is Divine Surely, Your compassion overcomes Your wrath!
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
IN THE NAME OF GOD
If you are hurt or betrayed, If you are hurt by people, who share the same blood as you. Remember Yussuf A.S, who was betrayed by his own brothers. If you find your parents opposing you. Remember Ibrahim A.S, whose father led him to the fire. If you are stuck with a problem where there's no way out. Remember Yunnus A.S stuck in the belly of a whale. If you are ill and your body cries with a pain, remember Ayyub A.S who was more ill than you. If someone slanders you. Remember Aishah A.S who was slandered throughout the city. If you are lonely. Recall Adam A.S who was created alone. If you cannot see any logic around you. Think of Nuh A.S who built an ark without questioning. If you are mocked by your own relatives. Think of Nabi Muhammad S.A.W. Can't you see how wonderful our Nabi is and their stories. Islam is indeed beautiful and perfect!
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
Lesson of patience and preseverance
What do I really want? I'll need some time to think but in the meantime let me inform you that your sunglasses turn me off. they haunt me with images of Lady Gaga and if you're anything like her I say nuh-uh. You spend too much time painting your nails checking your phone and looking for sales. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying looking nice is wrong trust me i notice but i need someone with their priorities straight not someone who regularly takes a picture of their plate. and I don't want to just sit there and stare into your eyes saying they're a teardrop from the moon trying to get you to swoon. your eyes could be the most beautiful things i've ever seen but that means **** to me when you're a material queen. instead, while we gaze into each other's eyes i'll probably pick your nose stick it in your ear or wipe it on your clothes i need someone who understands that life is really about where we've been where we're going and most definitely about taking the scenic route because if our eyes are the windows to our souls that's where I'll be looking when we grow old and i'll see all our memories not the cancer the spots or crippling disease. because age may wrinkle our skin, and time pass us like wind what's truly important is what's within. Just like wine we'll only get better in time. so lets make those memories lets scrape our knees really feel the breeze and please please please remember that we can stay young if we just act a little dumb. remember these mountains we climb would take less time if we hold each other's hands and intertwine. that way, whether we make it to the top or life pulls us down we'll be together. my love. my crown.
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Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
just like wine
What do I really want? I'll need some time to think but in the meantime let me inform you that your sunglasses turn me off. they haunt me with images of Lady Gaga and if you're anything like her I say nuh-uh. You spend too much time painting your nails checking your phone and looking for sales. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying looking nice is wrong trust me i notice but i need someone with their priorities straight not someone who regularly takes a picture of their plate. and I don't want to just sit there and stare into your eyes saying they're a teardrop from the moon trying to get you to swoon. your eyes could be the most beautiful things i've ever seen but that means **** to me when you're a material queen. instead, while we gaze into each other's eyes i'll probably pick your nose stick it in your ear or wipe it on your clothes i need someone who understands that life is really about where we've been where we're going and most definitely about taking the scenic route because if our eyes are the windows to our souls that's where I'll be looking when we grow old and i'll see all our memories not the cancer the spots or crippling disease. because age may wrinkle our skin, and time pass us like wind what's truly important is what's within. Just like wine we'll only get better in time. so lets make those memories lets scrape our knees really feel the breeze and please please please remember that we can stay young if we just act a little dumb. remember these mountains we climb would take less time if we hold each other's hands and intertwine. that way, whether we make it to the top or life pulls us down we'll be together. my love. my crown.
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57
Ihi yahnh ihi Dance the calypso Step to irie nuh ire Life’s everliving love song Though mi throat coarse Mi wi sing fi yuh
0
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
Calypso
It's a yell A shout A scream and it's unheard. Believe me, when I say I am not what I seem to be when I am smiling when I am grimacing and I am wishing that I could do it "just like normal people do" But the word "Anxious" is soaked like a tattoo down to my bone, until I feel so alone that I wish I could eat myself Snake scales slowly sliding into place As, with each new word, I slowly want to trickle sand and erase my embarrassment All too aware of harassment which doesn't exist I can't even begin to give you a list of the amount of ways I felt this hole, this weight, this unmistakeable slayer of my breath make me feel bereft again of society, and friendship, and love, My brain is constantly praying for that dove with an olive branch Just to take a stance over my head and let me be led into freedom But instead My mentality lies in tatters and what is left wholesome is scattered with fear on the wind, gradually allowing itself to rescind until it turns, reforms, and falls again I never know when it's going to strike Usually it's when I start to like somebody new, that it begins to brew up it's toxic mess Friend, Other or Lover, it will find a way to slither and make less again, So nuh-uh, no way, not again, I refuse to look you in the eye, because I'm scared I'll cry if I see my fear there, I'm scared I'll see that you're aware, that my fear is slowly drowning me, and crowning me the Queen of Isolation, lost and uncertain Wishing I could pull the curtain, but still blindly hoping that audience will come to, will see the tattoo and not be disgusted. I don't want to be distrusted, because every sorry is laden with uncertainty and regret, that's it not over yet, and the monster still holds me by the throat, I am bathed in mistrust's yolk And I wish I could smell of something different. But, I take a deep breath, and I let another war begin. Because every day I stare into another's pupil, is another day I kinda, sorta, win.
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
"Look them in the eye"
It's a yell A shout A scream and it's unheard. Believe me, when I say I am not what I seem to be when I am smiling when I am grimacing and I am wishing that I could do it "just like normal people do" But the word "Anxious" is soaked like a tattoo down to my bone, until I feel so alone that I wish I could eat myself Snake scales slowly sliding into place As, with each new word, I slowly want to trickle sand and erase my embarrassment All too aware of harassment which doesn't exist I can't even begin to give you a list of the amount of ways I felt this hole, this weight, this unmistakeable slayer of my breath make me feel bereft again of society, and friendship, and love, My brain is constantly praying for that dove with an olive branch Just to take a stance over my head and let me be led into freedom But instead My mentality lies in tatters and what is left wholesome is scattered with fear on the wind, gradually allowing itself to rescind until it turns, reforms, and falls again I never know when it's going to strike Usually it's when I start to like somebody new, that it begins to brew up it's toxic mess Friend, Other or Lover, it will find a way to slither and make less again, So nuh-uh, no way, not again, I refuse to look you in the eye, because I'm scared I'll cry if I see my fear there, I'm scared I'll see that you're aware, that my fear is slowly drowning me, and crowning me the Queen of Isolation, lost and uncertain Wishing I could pull the curtain, but still blindly hoping that audience will come to, will see the tattoo and not be disgusted. I don't want to be distrusted, because every sorry is laden with uncertainty and regret, that's it not over yet, and the monster still holds me by the throat, I am bathed in mistrust's yolk And I wish I could smell of something different. But, I take a deep breath, and I let another war begin. Because every day I stare into another's pupil, is another day I kinda, sorta, win.
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69
Girl : Be a little classy say scenery not view Boy : view, it's a view. Girl : it's a scenery. A scenic scenery. A memorable scenery. Boy : You're a beautiful scenery. See **** doesn't make sense. Girl : That's different. Boy : What's the difference, that's just a sun. You're much prettier. Girl : Such a sweet tongue, how many girls hearts have you broken? Boy : None. Yet... Girl : One day you'll miss having someone to look at scenic sceneries with. Boy : I have you for that don't I? Girl : True that but you'll still miss it when we grow up. Boy : Who says we have to grow up? Girl : We all do. Boy : Nuh uh Girl : Trust me you'll miss having someone to go look at views with. One year later Boy : I already do.
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Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
Conversation With A Piece Of My Heart
next to never (a pair of ones) squeezed between nuh-uh and fugetaboutit, is that long gone notion in the nation of concepts, like one true love, the connected lines on each of our bodies, certifying we are a pair of ones, a strong hand. there are chores to be done: reread Guy de Maupassant, delete two thousand unread emails cry for my so lost children let Walt Whitman wash over my body like oil kick the guy out of bed so he can make us coffee. a ton of stuff to do, good thing, we got a strong hand, that pair of ones. which I am now informed is called a pair of Aces. Who Knew? 7:51 Sun Jul 12
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Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 8:06 AM UTC
next to never (a pair of ones)
Hey you gal, com’ere You notice seh, when word gone round, And people affie frown and deh look pon you. Mi nah say nothing. When word gone round, And people affie frown, And deh look pon me, Why yeah fi see me? You haunted or summthin? Vanilla on cream, Think she prettier then me, You nah nothing Hey goodie, with your white gal ‘air Only thing you better dan me, Is ******* that wood like a lolly lolly pop. Why you affie be so bad mind You have a sad mind, Two tiny ***** knocking side to side, Coming up to me, with ya smile in hand, Yeah lie, yeah lie Me nuh see you, you affie be somebody fi see Hey you gal, you think your better then me? With ya boyfriend Who ya naw even see, see Bringing home hickeys, And deh gurls seh she nah even mean dem. Hahahahahaha Go **** back ya moma Ya, luckier then me!!!
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Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Better then me
Ghetto life, it nuh easy Especially when hungry a bite Hungry can cause man fi a fight Also loose dem life Man hangout pon ends Sey dem a hold a medz, Police draw gun, man affie run Tom get shot him tumble down We cagow sleep a night, cause gun shot teck flight. Blam, blam, bow bow, Kapow pow Pon is floor man get down Whouie him dead!! Gun shot eena him head.
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Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
Ghetto life: