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"nutritional" poems
I saw a brinjal... I saw a brinjal... I saw it on the roadway... Yes it caught my eye, As I walked on by... There must be a vendor... With desperation on his face... Who thought I would buy you... And he dropped you on the road... You're nutritional! You're nutritional!! You're nutritional!!! It's true! There must be a vendor, With a smile on his face, When he thought I would buy you, But it's time to face the truth... I shall never ingest you...
0
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
You're Nutritional
French Fries Frying, sizzling, greasy, Salty, crispy, oily, potato nastiness French fries are gross They have no nutritional value They're a pile of grease that you can't put down They're a highway to obesity that never ends They just keep sizzling in their pool of oil Coating themselves in a thick layer of fat They're greasy, salty, and down right gross
0
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
McDonalds
My heart bleeds **** wine while my back aches with lust And the hummingbirds they feed on leaves that lack nutritional value.
0
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
The Alamo window
My heart bleeds **** wine while my back aches with lust And the hummingbirds they feed on leaves that lack nutritional value.
0
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 8:40 AM UTC
The Alamo window
I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. Life’s fantastic! I feel like plastic, aiming for an 18-inch waist because I can afford to throw my internal organs away. I feel like plastic, a neck so slender I have to choose between eating and breathing; there’s not enough space for two tubes. I feel like plastic, a 38-inch bust and 3-times the average amount of forehead. I feel like plastic, a size nine shoe squeezed to a three, spending three to nine avoiding meal time because my weight-loss book says, “Don’t eat.” I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life’s fantastic, but I’m not plastic. Bile tastes all too organic, its taste chasing after me if I exceed my daily nutritional limit of 2,000 calories. I’m skinny enough that people think I’m healthy. I’m not skinny enough for people to think I’m unhealthy. Anorexia is as familiar as the back of my hand, poised like a gun to the back of my throat, waiting and ready to blow. I’m a sixteen-year-old suicide case, product of the war of production, wearing battle wounds in the form of uniform lines across the tops of my thighs. I’ve been rewriting this poem since its conception. I feel like the rough draft: concision is key. (Be smaller.) I’m trying rewriting, trying to leave out things that aren’t important enough, like: four of my ribs and my esophagus and my stomach and my small intestine. I’m testing the limits of realism. But here’s the thing: I’m a real girl in a real world. Life’s not always fantastic, but I am not plastic. I am not plastic. I refuse to be plastic, aiming for generic weight range based on content, not scale number. I refuse to be plastic, eating and breathing like both are vital aspects to living. I refuse to be plastic, an actual hip-to-bust ratio for not a thirty-year-old but a teenager. I refuse to be plastic, shoe size nine in size nine shoes, trying to start enjoying mealtimes because my “weight-loss book” has been chucked down the chute. I’m a living girl in a terrifying world, trying to remind myself that “Life in Plastic!” is not fantastic.
0
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:00 PM UTC
revisiting Barbie Girl
I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. Life’s fantastic! I feel like plastic, aiming for an 18-inch waist because I can afford to throw my internal organs away. I feel like plastic, a neck so slender I have to choose between eating and breathing; there’s not enough space for two tubes. I feel like plastic, a 38-inch bust and 3-times the average amount of forehead. I feel like plastic, a size nine shoe squeezed to a three, spending three to nine avoiding meal time because my weight-loss book says, “Don’t eat.” I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life’s fantastic, but I’m not plastic. Bile tastes all too organic, its taste chasing after me if I exceed my daily nutritional limit of 2,000 calories. I’m skinny enough that people think I’m healthy. I’m not skinny enough for people to think I’m unhealthy. Anorexia is as familiar as the back of my hand, poised like a gun to the back of my throat, waiting and ready to blow. I’m a sixteen-year-old suicide case, product of the war of production, wearing battle wounds in the form of uniform lines across the tops of my thighs. I’ve been rewriting this poem since its conception. I feel like the rough draft: concision is key. (Be smaller.) I’m trying rewriting, trying to leave out things that aren’t important enough, like: four of my ribs and my esophagus and my stomach and my small intestine. I’m testing the limits of realism. But here’s the thing: I’m a real girl in a real world. Life’s not always fantastic, but I am not plastic. I am not plastic. I refuse to be plastic, aiming for generic weight range based on content, not scale number. I refuse to be plastic, eating and breathing like both are vital aspects to living. I refuse to be plastic, an actual hip-to-bust ratio for not a thirty-year-old but a teenager. I refuse to be plastic, shoe size nine in size nine shoes, trying to start enjoying mealtimes because my “weight-loss book” has been chucked down the chute. I’m a living girl in a terrifying world, trying to remind myself that “Life in Plastic!” is not fantastic.
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70
i. Elated, I'm afar from the aqua sphere beneath mine toe's, I've been taken up by flight, an angel in the night; A woman, a queen, a mystical paranormal beam, God heard mine weeping, and with her he sent, She dried mine Tear's clean. ii. I sniveled for eon's, with none hopeful lover's future Mine joint's were weak, from the lack of nutritional feature's; At mine lowest point, after imploring mine lord for help, He sent me mine other half, Earl Jane Nagley, an Asiatic path, Mine beloved, mine darling, mine seraphic helper. iii. I found wholeness, the other purpose to mine sustenance, She's not for sale, she's not a slave, she's a cherub; not some anecdotal tale. She's not one to taketh man's bribery, she's not a peasant sold and payed for rent: tis she's heavensent- the answer to mine prayer's, she's delicate, she's an empress doth thou seeith, I was birthed for her, as she for me, both made for another, to cherish each other, on cloud nine we shalt be seen. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedication-Filipino rose
0
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
siyam na ulap ( Cloud nine) filipino tongue
Well where do we start? Bob, That answers a lot of questions before asked. He was a vegan, kind of? Never did he linger on thoughts of animal flesh, vegan you could single him upon in certain words. He would not linger on the animal nutritional formalities. Could he linger on the repulsive tastes of pork, beef, lamb. He would heave at mere thoughts of digesting these peaceful recipients of the plant we delve all upon. But even fish was out of his lingering taste buds. He did how ever have a taste that differed from the palettes of most, for it was of those he called friend. He contorted on the repulsiveness of what his hunger desired in wanting attention, but as those around waited for there inevitable ending. He lingered on how they were savoured. Bankruptcy of morals was his downfall, he saw others as just meat sacks. Things that were as wanting in consumption as those they fed upon, There screams were so inviting. Have you heard an animal scream. No they don't, they just look cynical in why your ending, their existence and stare. Where we cry like lambs to the slaughter of our ending. Emotion makes those that tear salt upon features taste that much better than those unintelligent creatures that just except there oblivion with eyes of so be it. I have a sickness that thrives on the taste of you superficial fear that I will not end you. No I will cease you light and endeavour to feed on you lifeless carcass now silent. *"Hi I'm Bob I'm a vegan struggling with the concept of no meat in my diet, I don't eat animal, but I still linger for the taste of meat inbetween of my moist lips and teeth.*
0
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
Bob The Cannibal
Well where do we start? Bob, That answers a lot of questions before asked. He was a vegan, kind of? Never did he linger on thoughts of animal flesh, vegan you could single him upon in certain words. He would not linger on the animal nutritional formalities. Could he linger on the repulsive tastes of pork, beef, lamb. He would heave at mere thoughts of digesting these peaceful recipients of the plant we delve all upon. But even fish was out of his lingering taste buds. He did how ever have a taste that differed from the palettes of most, for it was of those he called friend. He contorted on the repulsiveness of what his hunger desired in wanting attention, but as those around waited for there inevitable ending. He lingered on how they were savoured. Bankruptcy of morals was his downfall, he saw others as just meat sacks. Things that were as wanting in consumption as those they fed upon, There screams were so inviting. Have you heard an animal scream. No they don't, they just look cynical in why your ending, their existence and stare. Where we cry like lambs to the slaughter of our ending. Emotion makes those that tear salt upon features taste that much better than those unintelligent creatures that just except there oblivion with eyes of so be it. I have a sickness that thrives on the taste of you superficial fear that I will not end you. No I will cease you light and endeavour to feed on you lifeless carcass now silent. *"Hi I'm Bob I'm a vegan struggling with the concept of no meat in my diet, I don't eat animal, but I still linger for the taste of meat inbetween of my moist lips and teeth.*
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31
depends on me for sustenance, companionship, and reassurance. she's like every other partner I've ever had She comes everywhere with me she walks around the lake with me and loves to visit the strange mountains. she leaves when i ignore the truth. Today I spent hours watching thick peels of clouds raking shadows on one another without crying, then I told my doctor exactly how I feel. My body scars so easily but has never been broken it's pointless to despair no matter how old you are. My nerves are alive, behind my teeth, in my tear ducts i'm a shivering rabbit ready to bolt seeing everywhere with my wide ears for a sign of Danger, dressed in disguise. her angry love emerges from the humus whispering like a father: "Lie down before you hurt yourself." "Why did you try to lift so much?" it replays all the stupid, lazy, selfish **** I've done in the past 6 months "Why are you still ******* around with that?" Hold the door open for your friends then give them some misdirection as they pass. you must be the first genius in the world to think of it: avoiding vulnerability by any means necessary. all attempts to justify my behavior fall short of conviction. i align my ethics with my actions when it's most convenient. (and, as I'm reminded, only amidst the most detailed instruction.) Danger knows I almost believe it. But we both know I'm a hypocrite i may never have stopped stealing from animals without all the recipes other people have written. the militant voice would've insisted, "It's Impossible! humans didn't evolve to limit their nutritional pool! and you're already shuffling half-assed through work and school! Just think of something else to make you frown, cut your losses and leave this large-small town. They are nature's slaves caught unawares." So who notices? And even then, who cares?
0
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
my girlfriend, Danger
depends on me for sustenance, companionship, and reassurance. she's like every other partner I've ever had She comes everywhere with me she walks around the lake with me and loves to visit the strange mountains. she leaves when i ignore the truth. Today I spent hours watching thick peels of clouds raking shadows on one another without crying, then I told my doctor exactly how I feel. My body scars so easily but has never been broken it's pointless to despair no matter how old you are. My nerves are alive, behind my teeth, in my tear ducts i'm a shivering rabbit ready to bolt seeing everywhere with my wide ears for a sign of Danger, dressed in disguise. her angry love emerges from the humus whispering like a father: "Lie down before you hurt yourself." "Why did you try to lift so much?" it replays all the stupid, lazy, selfish **** I've done in the past 6 months "Why are you still ******* around with that?" Hold the door open for your friends then give them some misdirection as they pass. you must be the first genius in the world to think of it: avoiding vulnerability by any means necessary. all attempts to justify my behavior fall short of conviction. i align my ethics with my actions when it's most convenient. (and, as I'm reminded, only amidst the most detailed instruction.) Danger knows I almost believe it. But we both know I'm a hypocrite i may never have stopped stealing from animals without all the recipes other people have written. the militant voice would've insisted, "It's Impossible! humans didn't evolve to limit their nutritional pool! and you're already shuffling half-assed through work and school! Just think of something else to make you frown, cut your losses and leave this large-small town. They are nature's slaves caught unawares." So who notices? And even then, who cares?
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45
(Authors note: I realize this is more short story than poem. I hope you find it poetic as well. Apologies in advance if this is not an appropriate forum.) Have You Seen This Girl ? I sat sleepy eyed one morning enduring yet another cardboard and treebark bran flavored bowl of breakfast with milk, 2 percent of course, and I stared at the carton. First I reviewed the measures of various fat content, and nutritional values listed as a matter of law. And as usual, I thought of you. This time by way of pondering the plight of the American Dairy Farmer and remembering it was the “corporatizing” of the independent dairy farms which led your family to other uses for the land they had raised dairy cows on for over a century. And I missed you terribly. To quickly shake the associated feelings of loneliness, and your face from my mind, I was drawn to the deep dark eyes of the child who was missing and apparently exploited on the other side of the carton. She had innocent, kind eyes that indicated she wouldn't even harm an insect. Curious eyes that would watch an insect for hours as it munched on grasses and leaves she fed it. She would be two years grown and two years older since last seen in blue jeans and a t-shirt in Amarillo, Texas, in the company of her biological father who was possibly armed, dangerous, and driving a pickup truck towards Mexico. Or Canada. And it struck me. You needed to be on the side of a milk carton. 2 percent of course. At some point in our life together, you had been kidnapped. Whoever was responsible had gone to a lot of trouble to replace you, to carefully drop you right back into my life. It was a great attempt but finally my belief that the real you would never do the things you did to me were validated. You had the misfortune of actually having an “evil twin” and corporatized or not, it seemed only the Dairy Council could help, since there is no Center For Missing and Exploited Adults. Big red letters screaming “Have You Seen This Girl ? ” were what we needed now. God knows I had recent photos, and could describe all of your features-distinguishing or not. I think tomorrow, I'll have French Toast. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on my work at www.emotionalorphan.net.
0
Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 9:13 PM UTC
Have You Seen This Girl ?
(Authors note: I realize this is more short story than poem. I hope you find it poetic as well. Apologies in advance if this is not an appropriate forum.) Have You Seen This Girl ? I sat sleepy eyed one morning enduring yet another cardboard and treebark bran flavored bowl of breakfast with milk, 2 percent of course, and I stared at the carton. First I reviewed the measures of various fat content, and nutritional values listed as a matter of law. And as usual, I thought of you. This time by way of pondering the plight of the American Dairy Farmer and remembering it was the “corporatizing” of the independent dairy farms which led your family to other uses for the land they had raised dairy cows on for over a century. And I missed you terribly. To quickly shake the associated feelings of loneliness, and your face from my mind, I was drawn to the deep dark eyes of the child who was missing and apparently exploited on the other side of the carton. She had innocent, kind eyes that indicated she wouldn't even harm an insect. Curious eyes that would watch an insect for hours as it munched on grasses and leaves she fed it. She would be two years grown and two years older since last seen in blue jeans and a t-shirt in Amarillo, Texas, in the company of her biological father who was possibly armed, dangerous, and driving a pickup truck towards Mexico. Or Canada. And it struck me. You needed to be on the side of a milk carton. 2 percent of course. At some point in our life together, you had been kidnapped. Whoever was responsible had gone to a lot of trouble to replace you, to carefully drop you right back into my life. It was a great attempt but finally my belief that the real you would never do the things you did to me were validated. You had the misfortune of actually having an “evil twin” and corporatized or not, it seemed only the Dairy Council could help, since there is no Center For Missing and Exploited Adults. Big red letters screaming “Have You Seen This Girl ? ” were what we needed now. God knows I had recent photos, and could describe all of your features-distinguishing or not. I think tomorrow, I'll have French Toast. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on my work at www.emotionalorphan.net.
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10
Some people call them toe-mae- tos. They’re toe- mat -toes to other folk. Monsanto has patented versions that may poison us and leave us broke. Their genetically modified brand belongs neither on plates nor in cans. Their health effects may include cancer In some other countries they’re banned.. They are touted for being resistant To herbicides, thus reducing toil- But herbicide residue is persistent How quickly it poisons the soil. If farmers, each season, must purchase Genetically modified seeds Monsanto will corner the market For supplying nutritional needs. How many Monsanto execs infiltrated the executive branch? With so much political sway Its no wonder that they get their way.
0
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 5:38 PM UTC
The Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (political)
i dream of a coven of witches quaaluding through the night to kidnap me and fly me away as an object of their seasonal *** magick ritual, to conjure a 5th dimensional being, who will possess me when the ***** & planets are aligned just right. the cult of drunk chicks laughs on butterscotch and blood, born in the early 90s, they are mtv-obsessed, twitter/tumblr toned, disney-raised and disney-praised and trained in the ways of camping and conjuring and makeup and volleyball, or soccer, or both. they have killer legs. & i fall asleep for 1000 years to penumbra. the demon has my body, and he worships their legs. and they worship his wars. and his money. and his twinkly brass knuckle conference calls. they worship his ability to peel the spines from culture and countries and cook-off the clinging meat-bits left on the bone in a broth or stew or gruel of hopeful has-beens and dreamers of love. awaken. to the apocalypse so long and wrought and beautiful as the novels and films and serials proposed. the bomb was loved, and the love mushroomed, and the mushrooms were plucked and ****** upon by gleeful young savages for nutritional values. and those values grow. and the growth is seen as succulent fruit hanging from trees in gardens in groves and the groves are in troves where they blanket and blush. the world is made right again, by seedlings and the green.
0
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
the american dream as seen through a prism of colorful ********
I know everything about tobacco. Cancer stats, asthma stats, usage rates among teens tweens and young adults. Give me five minutes and you can have a list of the taxes on tobacco arranged by state (alphabetical or by rank?) and a dozen studies that all say "smoke up, Johnny, it's good for you!" Data is my nicotine and I am hooked. We're surrounded by Smoke, Lies, and the Nanny State and no one gives a **** Follow the rules and hide your smoke, your ***** and keep away from the kids. Carcinogens in hot dogs are all well and good because there's "nutritional value" but you can't eat a cigarette. Eat your lies and **** your e-cigarette like a lollipop because that's the cool thing these days.
0
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Light Up the Numbers
Do I have what it takes to step on the Bodybuilding stage? Competitions to compete in Intensity training too begin Muscles focus at the end Muscles to tone until pumped Nutrition in muscles feed Plenty of muscle magazines to read Posing until perfect Structure in the Bodybuilder’s mind Having a mind set to take effect Mirror checking flexing results The hardness in muscles felt Training through pain with the term dealt Having a Bodybuilding Coach guiding any Bodybuilder to perfection the whole way This is training principles usage every day If a Bodybuilder intends to win, he must have high intensity determination to the very end It’s more than just lifting weights It’s the preparation in how it relates It’s the protein intake It’s also requires drinking nutritional weight gain shakes Later at Prejudging during the day and competition night The Bodybuilder must be properly oiled for the heavy spotlights Practice posing backstage Step on center stage to let one’s muscles amaze Cheers from the audience encouragement being the phase The competition will require standing next to other bodybuilding competitors in comparison In the eyes of the Bodybuilding Judges whose muscles standout However competitions can become a flexing bout But you can depend on audiences with a shout However, it is the winning bodybuilding circle where the focus will be a winner profile everyone will be talking about Bodybuilding is about weight gain or weight reduce Yet it is a sport where men and women are enthused But there are drugs where including young people should refuse Bodybuilding good or bad No pain with everything to gain It’s about exercise Some might say it is an enterprise But people must realize Shape having tone But I am sure this everyone has known Muscle training comes from anywhere across the shore Yes bodybuilding is something one should explore Muscle Appeal Having a muscle flex feel The bottom line, Bodybuilding is for real.
0
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
WHAT GOES THROUGH A COMPETITIVE BODYBUILDER’S MIND DURING TRAINING?
Do I have what it takes to step on the Bodybuilding stage? Competitions to compete in Intensity training too begin Muscles focus at the end Muscles to tone until pumped Nutrition in muscles feed Plenty of muscle magazines to read Posing until perfect Structure in the Bodybuilder’s mind Having a mind set to take effect Mirror checking flexing results The hardness in muscles felt Training through pain with the term dealt Having a Bodybuilding Coach guiding any Bodybuilder to perfection the whole way This is training principles usage every day If a Bodybuilder intends to win, he must have high intensity determination to the very end It’s more than just lifting weights It’s the preparation in how it relates It’s the protein intake It’s also requires drinking nutritional weight gain shakes Later at Prejudging during the day and competition night The Bodybuilder must be properly oiled for the heavy spotlights Practice posing backstage Step on center stage to let one’s muscles amaze Cheers from the audience encouragement being the phase The competition will require standing next to other bodybuilding competitors in comparison In the eyes of the Bodybuilding Judges whose muscles standout However competitions can become a flexing bout But you can depend on audiences with a shout However, it is the winning bodybuilding circle where the focus will be a winner profile everyone will be talking about Bodybuilding is about weight gain or weight reduce Yet it is a sport where men and women are enthused But there are drugs where including young people should refuse Bodybuilding good or bad No pain with everything to gain It’s about exercise Some might say it is an enterprise But people must realize Shape having tone But I am sure this everyone has known Muscle training comes from anywhere across the shore Yes bodybuilding is something one should explore Muscle Appeal Having a muscle flex feel The bottom line, Bodybuilding is for real.
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45
"Your heart is a place that hides how you feel But it can be hard to express how you feel Your mind can erase what your heart feels I jus want love from you All I want is for somebody to walk up behind me I want somebody to walk up behind me And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck " I want you to trust me w/ ur heart Not only love me physically mentally and spiritually Love me from behind so hard it's imprinted in the forefront of my mind You say you got love for me but I wanna feel it...hear it...be it Encompassed in a warp of me and you Grant me the opportunity to pay off the debt I feel I owe you See I mindlessly pay to stare at you Even when I'm not around you I stare at the memories I have of you No decoder to this mental vault I know the code Common realities of time spent w/ you Moving towards life long memories I want you to trust me w/ your heart Hold it in my hands....gently caress it No cutting it with an eyetooth Standing in a booth pronouncing "Hey you...Im in love w/ you!" Hopefully one day I'll be able to say it But it gets caught in the back of my tongue as the words form cuz I don't wanna be rejected... Reflected off a thought of the worst Cuz I jus don't understand why you won't tell me how you feel I mean s**t jus say it cuz these thoughts I have are beating so hard on my brain like a bass drum Giving lyrics like... "I want somebody to walk up behind me and kiss me in my neck and breath on my neck" Giving lyrics as long as a niggas' rap sheet Oh and it's explicit up here so please don't let your children in I just want to walk freely along a market and pick up your emotions Read the nutritional content I just want to go on a shopping spree with your being Everything is up for grabs cuz you trust me So jus endow my eardrums w/ what I know is there Help me understand Help my comprehension cuz I'm starting to get apprehensive Sensitive about my ish... All I want is for you to trust me w/ your heart Don't be afraid to be loved cuz that's all I wanna do You are my friend... my confidant Closing the door to your past seems to be your problem when all I wanna do is close it and open up a new one I know it's hard cuz it's hard for me too But it's harder for me to continue like this Hey I must be a *********
0
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC
Confessions of a Secret Passion: Untold Vulnerabilities Pt. 4
"Your heart is a place that hides how you feel But it can be hard to express how you feel Your mind can erase what your heart feels I jus want love from you All I want is for somebody to walk up behind me I want somebody to walk up behind me And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck " I want you to trust me w/ ur heart Not only love me physically mentally and spiritually Love me from behind so hard it's imprinted in the forefront of my mind You say you got love for me but I wanna feel it...hear it...be it Encompassed in a warp of me and you Grant me the opportunity to pay off the debt I feel I owe you See I mindlessly pay to stare at you Even when I'm not around you I stare at the memories I have of you No decoder to this mental vault I know the code Common realities of time spent w/ you Moving towards life long memories I want you to trust me w/ your heart Hold it in my hands....gently caress it No cutting it with an eyetooth Standing in a booth pronouncing "Hey you...Im in love w/ you!" Hopefully one day I'll be able to say it But it gets caught in the back of my tongue as the words form cuz I don't wanna be rejected... Reflected off a thought of the worst Cuz I jus don't understand why you won't tell me how you feel I mean s**t jus say it cuz these thoughts I have are beating so hard on my brain like a bass drum Giving lyrics like... "I want somebody to walk up behind me and kiss me in my neck and breath on my neck" Giving lyrics as long as a niggas' rap sheet Oh and it's explicit up here so please don't let your children in I just want to walk freely along a market and pick up your emotions Read the nutritional content I just want to go on a shopping spree with your being Everything is up for grabs cuz you trust me So jus endow my eardrums w/ what I know is there Help me understand Help my comprehension cuz I'm starting to get apprehensive Sensitive about my ish... All I want is for you to trust me w/ your heart Don't be afraid to be loved cuz that's all I wanna do You are my friend... my confidant Closing the door to your past seems to be your problem when all I wanna do is close it and open up a new one I know it's hard cuz it's hard for me too But it's harder for me to continue like this Hey I must be a *********
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47
She’s talkin to cows again Cattle candied side Licorice fence A mother hen’s Cherry eggs Chocolate fudge smears On her legs Slide over grape ice pond Atop frosted clover Sugared world beyond Three soft cows before her Describe the candied world One says, “I produce chocolate milk just for me A little bit of strawberry for she And vanilla for all three” Smooth Cocoa will flow Sweetness will fill your pores A crystal rain pours Sugared quartz upon Caramel whirlpools Nature’s homemade molecules Blueberry skies drip Fields of lollipop Glimmer rainbow sunshine Sweetest Harvest Candy wrappers fall Wind blows them Over by candy-wax waterfall Marshmallow hikes With chocolate pretzel poles Strands of sugary pink glass fall From Cotton candy clouds A new farmer’s way to plow He says, “young lady Do you vow Cherish this nutritional place And make it your Delectable space?” “I do” she proclaims ~ “To make it mine I have no shame Only a request Of cinnamon I suggest A form of healing zest Sprinkled on this candied land Where you are I so happily stand A powerful purpose You will see Your nose will thank you I suppose A Favorite of every herbivore From a former land I will go no more An offer of sticky bun To sweeten the score From here to the slushie seafloor Of a confection land adored”
0
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 8:46 PM UTC
Candied World
the school room the teacher and i too and who-ever so wishes to come in everyone can love me truly they can the riots fill the streets the nutritional advisors says "oh well....out of food" you can always join the military you can always join a gang you can always sit at home the school room is empty of people the school room is crowded with ghosts with the teacher and i, too and who ever so wishes to come in
0
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 3:54 PM UTC
school days
******* think yer mighty fine with your big ole bugged out eyes you all scruffly and ***** like a home doesnt have you nobody does youre all you all yours no chores youre probably high drinking the day away eating tabs like they have substantial nutritional value and its kinda **** the way you look like a mangy dog could bite and bark but youd rather snuggle be sweet could snap any moment couldnt support the weight of the world with your little arms but youre you so you and its me you should become accustomed to
0
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
In the Middle of the Night
does food ever feel heavy like dead weight in your stomach pulling you down this is not poetry no matter how small the portions are even the fewest calories or lack of nutritional value this is not poetry have you ever felt wrong just for eating unable to choke down bites this is not poetry have you ever wanted to be thinner than your bones to just evaporate this is not poetry
0
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
heavy
Sophy’s mom sent her a giant case of “Fun dip” - a thousand packets of sour, fruit-flavored sugar. Is there anything more junkavore a parent can buy a child - well, ok, an 18 year old? She LOVES them and so does Leong who’s from China where, apparently, you can’t get useless, non-nutritional snacks. The two of them are running around, all sugar hyped with their emo-grape-chemical-lips, sticking out phosphorescent-green-tongues and threatening to tickle everyone with cherry-red-fingers. It has me wondering, should I switch to dentistry? Our college prep has moved to a new phase - with just 16 days until we move back into our residential college. We’re suddenly sleeping-in. It’s nothing we planned or even discussed, it just started happening. We go to sleep around 10pm and sleep until 10am - or later. I think we all subconsciously realized that soon we’ll be back to sleeplessness. I’m peachy - in a great mindspace - these days. I’m well rested (see above), we’re killing our sophomore prep - even the physics, my period was a nothing, we spent over two hours in Ulta sampling perfumes, I have a new Macbook M2 (see below) and I painted my nails in tropical colors. The FedEx man rolled up yesterday. “Anyone expecting something?” Anna asked the crowd of roommates attracted by the driver bringing packages to the door, two at a time. No one was expecting anything. Eventually he’d delivered 8, back to school, M2-Macbooks (2 in each color) - one for everyone - from my Grandmère. If that sounds needlessly ostentatious, then you’re thinking she went to the mall and paid full price, but she probably just traded Tim Cook a half ton of lithium or something - one of her companies mines it - in Chili - I think. But still, my roommates were blagabloo. I picked a starlight one. An odd thing about the new, flat Macbook Air design is that you can’t pick it up with one hand - unless you hook it underneath with a long fingernail - what are guys going to do?
0
Aug 9, 2022
Aug 9, 2022 at 2:28 PM UTC
junkavore
Sophy’s mom sent her a giant case of “Fun dip” - a thousand packets of sour, fruit-flavored sugar. Is there anything more junkavore a parent can buy a child - well, ok, an 18 year old? She LOVES them and so does Leong who’s from China where, apparently, you can’t get useless, non-nutritional snacks. The two of them are running around, all sugar hyped with their emo-grape-chemical-lips, sticking out phosphorescent-green-tongues and threatening to tickle everyone with cherry-red-fingers. It has me wondering, should I switch to dentistry? Our college prep has moved to a new phase - with just 16 days until we move back into our residential college. We’re suddenly sleeping-in. It’s nothing we planned or even discussed, it just started happening. We go to sleep around 10pm and sleep until 10am - or later. I think we all subconsciously realized that soon we’ll be back to sleeplessness. I’m peachy - in a great mindspace - these days. I’m well rested (see above), we’re killing our sophomore prep - even the physics, my period was a nothing, we spent over two hours in Ulta sampling perfumes, I have a new Macbook M2 (see below) and I painted my nails in tropical colors. The FedEx man rolled up yesterday. “Anyone expecting something?” Anna asked the crowd of roommates attracted by the driver bringing packages to the door, two at a time. No one was expecting anything. Eventually he’d delivered 8, back to school, M2-Macbooks (2 in each color) - one for everyone - from my Grandmère. If that sounds needlessly ostentatious, then you’re thinking she went to the mall and paid full price, but she probably just traded Tim Cook a half ton of lithium or something - one of her companies mines it - in Chili - I think. But still, my roommates were blagabloo. I picked a starlight one. An odd thing about the new, flat Macbook Air design is that you can’t pick it up with one hand - unless you hook it underneath with a long fingernail - what are guys going to do?
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7
My whole life is numbers Your whole life is numbers It starts the moment you are born, a size a weight. They tell you have to have so many of this, so many of that This milk, that milk. This food, that food a balanced diet You have to comply This is the myth they would have us believe But once past 12 the system leaves It leaves the model nutritional path Instead becomes a media plan When a young girl diets to a size 10 The numbers they play with are nothing more But some can't see they are just right! OK correct a pretty sight To some poor young minds it is so much more. An 8 a 6 or maybe a 4 How far do you go to be just right, till it kills you? Your born complete with all the parts You are unique, special, a one off Then as you grow your life it changes As the numbers start to re arrange it To look like her to walk like another You sell your soul, fashion becomes your new mother. Oh that dress only goes to 10 but I'm a 12 so diet again That perfect body you had at birth Is now elastic and shrinks to a skirt You don’t eat the food you need This new mother has you on your knees Face in the bowl they sold you this But its ok you’ve just been sick You don’t have to eat the world; for a size 16 is an average girl Look around at models galore, I wish they would smile a little more So if someone says too fat, to thin what’s it really to do with him If he wants twiggy or May West the go find her you total pest! For I’ve seen the fat the tall the thin the small the black the yellow the pink It’s just one thing that makes me smile Yes it’s the woman who’s inside So if you’re a guy and don’t agree You will never deserved the woman your'e with
0
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
Numbers
My whole life is numbers Your whole life is numbers It starts the moment you are born, a size a weight. They tell you have to have so many of this, so many of that This milk, that milk. This food, that food a balanced diet You have to comply This is the myth they would have us believe But once past 12 the system leaves It leaves the model nutritional path Instead becomes a media plan When a young girl diets to a size 10 The numbers they play with are nothing more But some can't see they are just right! OK correct a pretty sight To some poor young minds it is so much more. An 8 a 6 or maybe a 4 How far do you go to be just right, till it kills you? Your born complete with all the parts You are unique, special, a one off Then as you grow your life it changes As the numbers start to re arrange it To look like her to walk like another You sell your soul, fashion becomes your new mother. Oh that dress only goes to 10 but I'm a 12 so diet again That perfect body you had at birth Is now elastic and shrinks to a skirt You don’t eat the food you need This new mother has you on your knees Face in the bowl they sold you this But its ok you’ve just been sick You don’t have to eat the world; for a size 16 is an average girl Look around at models galore, I wish they would smile a little more So if someone says too fat, to thin what’s it really to do with him If he wants twiggy or May West the go find her you total pest! For I’ve seen the fat the tall the thin the small the black the yellow the pink It’s just one thing that makes me smile Yes it’s the woman who’s inside So if you’re a guy and don’t agree You will never deserved the woman your'e with
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41
Amanda, Do not become the spying rat, Do not invade their habitat.     Do not become a **** Do not do the scientist's evil deed. He does not care for his fake plant, You are simply a decoration, He is using you. Bought for beauty, thrown on the shelf. Do not overestimate yourself, fake a strong back, and bluff about the things,     you are lost in. You will not win. Amanda, Chop off your synthetic stem, before you grow into something so unknowingly fake. Amanda, Do not make people up, and drop them like impostor petals. Do not make excuses up, or blame your actions on substances, to salvage your pride,     and save your lies. Do not fake life amongst the butterflies. Accept defeat. Burn from it,     Learn from it. Regrow from your ashes,     Like an organic phoenix. Fall with the seasons,     Nutritional blue. We're living, we heal.     We always do. Amanda, Save scars as reminders, And only open the wounds, When you are too. Remember the things that we once knew, put past us as we said we grew, and lied to ourselves, as we sprouted plastic leaves.     Turned into information thieves. Repeat this course, like a failed grade.     Re-burn from it.     Yearn for a different ending. Like a request that is pending, Flashing yellow, like the neighbor stoplight, And it maybe, maybe, might,       Change,           Amanda.
0
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 1:47 PM UTC
Plastic Leaves.
Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true? A: Heart only good for so many beats, and that it... Don't waste on exercise. Everything wear out eventually. Speeding up heart not make you live longer; it like saying you extend life of car by driving faster. Want to live longer? Take nap. Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake? ... A: Oh no. Wine made from fruit. Fruit very good. Brandy distilled wine, that mean they take water out of fruity bit so you get even more of goodness that way. Beer also made of grain. Grain good too. Bottom up! Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program? A: Can't think of one, sorry. My philosophy: No pain...good! Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you? A: YOU NOT LISTENING! Food fried in vegetable oil. How getting more vegetable be bad? Q: Is chocolate bad for me? A: You crazy?!? HEL-LO-O!! Cocoa bean! Another vegetable! It best feel-good food around! Q: Is swimming good for your figure? A: If swimming good for figure, explain whale to me. Q: Is getting in shape important for my lifestyle? A: Hey! 'Round' is shape! Well... I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets. And remember: Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO-HOO, what a ride!!" AND...... For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies. 1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you. Concocted (for a sort of reconciliation) ...for our weekly fatty club weigh in. Ha! M.
0
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Love this Japanese Doctor!
Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true? A: Heart only good for so many beats, and that it... Don't waste on exercise. Everything wear out eventually. Speeding up heart not make you live longer; it like saying you extend life of car by driving faster. Want to live longer? Take nap. Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake? ... A: Oh no. Wine made from fruit. Fruit very good. Brandy distilled wine, that mean they take water out of fruity bit so you get even more of goodness that way. Beer also made of grain. Grain good too. Bottom up! Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program? A: Can't think of one, sorry. My philosophy: No pain...good! Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you? A: YOU NOT LISTENING! Food fried in vegetable oil. How getting more vegetable be bad? Q: Is chocolate bad for me? A: You crazy?!? HEL-LO-O!! Cocoa bean! Another vegetable! It best feel-good food around! Q: Is swimming good for your figure? A: If swimming good for figure, explain whale to me. Q: Is getting in shape important for my lifestyle? A: Hey! 'Round' is shape! Well... I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets. And remember: Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO-HOO, what a ride!!" AND...... For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies. 1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. 5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits. CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you. Concocted (for a sort of reconciliation) ...for our weekly fatty club weigh in. Ha! M.
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28
people should come with sodium labels so we can know ahead of time- how much salt one carries to throw in our wounds. how much of the pounds they count- have the potential to become water weight from caused tears. maybe if people came with a nutritional warning we could better see who had the propensity to be hazardous to our health.
0
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Untitled
time may be a lot of things but time is not money. those poor capricious capitalists. time isn't money. time is life ticking past you. time is death ticking closer. time is just a fraction of your unknown duration. time is a lot of things but it's not money. nothing is money because money is nothing. what those notes of paper? those round pieces of metal? not even any nutritional value? no sir, theres not much that money can do for me. now time, thats valuable. I can do things with time. I can make things with time. I can learn things with time. trade my time for money? well I think I'd rather just hang on to my time and you keep your money, hows that? good.
0
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:45 AM UTC
keep your money