"owens" poems
there lives a little white boy across the street,
i swear the chaps' got wings on his feet.
but he grovels around in charcoal and mud,
cos they say he hasn't got athletics in his blood.
he breaks British records, doesnt seem to stop,
but the Jamaican colours flutter from his rooftop.
Olympics the dream,but more than that,
little master Owens just wants to be Black.
there lives a little black girl just next door,
i can hear her tap dance on the linoleum floor.
she sings the opera from dusk to dawn,
she prances and twirls on the family's front lawn.
"your dancings' awkward, your voice baritone,"
it's not in your blood, leave the dreams alone.
she smears fairness creams day and night,
little miss Britney just wants to be White.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Now, what the hell has just happened to me?!,
I went to sleep and felt quite human,
Alarm goes off, opened my eyes to see,
Two mounds where my little chest should be.
My ****** armpits have just sprouted some fuzz,
There's some hair where my lady garden was,
My beautiful blonde hair is all goopy and limp,
And my face has a likeness to a spotty chimp.
When i went to bed last night, i loved my dear mother,
Now, the thought of a cuddle makes me run and take cover,
Ant lanky Jimmy Owens used to repulse me, no end,
But now all i want is to be his girlfriend?!,
I suppose i will need to start wearing a bra,
And i'll have to smile through the taunts from grandma,
And my father will watch every move that i make,
And i'll have to conform, for my sanity's sake.
Well, tonight, when i lay down my spotty wee head,
I'll lie here and wait for the morning, with dread,
All these transformations, all yuk and all grease,
O lord, will i make it through in one piece?!.
c eileen mcgreevy 2009
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 20, 2009 at 5:50 AM UTC
Passion fruit. Banana ***** papaya dreams so nice and juicy.
Papa's up. The game is down, these other kings just ain't around.
Bang, Bang, Who's Up?! Bang, Bang, Who's Down?!
These other authors they hit the ground.
I don't mean to fright, I don't mean to leave
I just got this thing that drives me.
I don't need to fight, but it feels, so, soo, good.
But all the po' lease think that it's my neighborhood.
Ooh girl I like ya'
C'mon over I like ya'
Ooh girl I like ya'
C'mon over I'll bite ya'
I know you's a freak, so bring a friend
I got rubber sheets, so I can break you in
Some other girls, think go around
But the truth is I just go downtown
The Rick Owens Store is like my homepage
If you ain't Facebook than you ain't gettin' laid
Obscur is fresh, Henrik's a boss, but I have to say
Trentemoeller really Lost. I liked Last Resort, even
Harbour Trips, but lately he's been on some ****** up ****
My parents want me to go get a Jay Oh Bee
But I'm too busy, sleeping.
My baby's face is porcelain, but I can't afford it
So I said it looked aluminum.
Dem people not, be steppin' on my toes
Cause' I'll show up reppin' Sheridan Rd. with my Colt '44.
Ooh girl I like ya
C'mon over ya ripe now
Ooh girl I like ya
C'mon over I'll bite ya
Your black garters' hot, so is yo' lace bikini
When it comes to lingerie, I play it like Houdini
Whether it's Agent Provocateur or Victoria's Secret
I hold my *** until I can put it in your ****
Relationship is such a ***** word
But when it comes to ***** I like 4-letter verbs
You can bring..um..whatever you want
But if you gotta **** **** ***** I'm out.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Perfection in practice
Determination that was obvious
A movie called “RACE” surrounding Jesse Owens
Jessie Owens being a black man facing the outcome of race and sports challenge beyond one’s own God given talent
Opposition had doubts of what a champion would become
Others tried but wanted to know how they could get some
There was everything that Jesse Owens had to prove
Education at Ohio State
It was strong dedication, dignity and honor not like everybody else
Jesse Owens had to adapt and relate
He was while and during as a unknown
Yet Mr. Owens was going to let his abilities be shown
But if you don’t take a chance how will you advance?
A run for one’s life
No time for thinking, but encouragement being your own advice
Precision in running speed
Determination being the ability to proceed
A score having a definite sure
Mr. Owens having the understanding to go out and explore
Dignity and pride was not a class effort
It was a God given talent that only God can provide
Despite the odds
His recognition was how he made the audience applaud
Mr. Owens Gold Medals in what anyone at any race could achieve
The spotlight with a reason in what Mr. Owens did receive
I had the opportunity to meet Jesse Owens personally when I was teenager, and I was able to get his autograph, speak to him and shake the champion’s hand
The torch had been carried, and Mr. Owens achieved victory
The name of Jesse Owens being in the history books, and his accomplishments are among
Jesse Owens being the runner to the finish and a salute in becoming a champion with recognition in sportsmanship being well done.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
You will not break my spirit burning bright,
turn my day to terror'd night
you will not break my cities tall and proud,
run my family underground
you will not break me!
you will not rob my leaders of their will,
clergy of their faith,
you will not peel stripes from my face
poke holes through my stars
you will not get away with this!
you will not turn my red, white and blue
into painful black and blue,
you will not break my children's acrid innocence,
my freedom to endure,
you will not take my mother and hold her hostage,
break my back first man, 'cause I'll seek justice
I'm an American!
My colors do not run,
I'm black, white, brown, yellow and tan
I'm an American!
You broke into family's home
killed brothers and sisters
one day I will get you
because I'm an American!
and
you will not break me,
you will not break me,
you will not break the hope in my child's eyes
peace will prevail to your surprise,
love is strength in numbers,
your will is bound by hatred
America slumbers no more,
the giant has awaken and
years of complacent, fat-cat politics
is now down to ***** out heretics
I got *****
I got *****
I got ***** swinging from the hips of
Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull
ready to bounce you out of your holes!
I got soul,
I got soul
I got soul like no others got soul,
got soul like Tina Turner, James Brown,
Ella Fitzgerald and the New York City Fire Department
I'm an American!
I got heart,
I got heart like no others got heart
I got heart like the Tin Man found
I got heart like Tony Bennett, George Foreman,
Marlon Brando, Jesse Owens, BB King, John Belushi
Johnny Franco and the Miracle Mets!
I'm an American!
I'm an American!
and
you will not break me
you will not break me
you will not break me!
Frank Messina. 9/11/2016.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
Now, what the hell has just happened to me?
i went to sleep, and felt semi human,
alarm goes off, open my eyes to see,
two mounds where my wee chest should be....
My ****** armpits stink, and have sprouted fuzz,
and there,s hair where my lady garden was,
my beautiful blonde hair is all goopy and limp,
and my face bares a likeness to a spotty young chimp....
When i went up to bed, i loved my dear mother,
now, the thought of a cuddle makes me run and take cover,
and that lanky Josh Owens used to repulse me, no end,
but today all i want is to be his girlfriend....
I suppose i will have to start wearing a bra,
and i,ll have to smile through all the taunts from grandma,
and my father will watch every move that i make,
and i,ll have to conform, for my sanity's sake....
Well, tonight when i lay down my spotty wee head,
i will lie here and wait for the morning, with dread,
with all these transformations,sweaty armpits, hair all grease,
oh dear universe, please help me make it through in one piece !!
(c)[email protected] (re-edited)
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
I'm getting gone.
I'm getting gone.
And the daisies are tryin' to move.
I'm getting gone.
And the sunrise is tryin' to come early too.
I'm getting gone,
And we stayed out late last night.
Tuesday morning we've got an early flight.
But if you aren't ready to go, I'll get dressed for us both.
We're getting gone.
Red pants and these Tom Ford shades.
You'll wear your Rick Owens sneakers and jacket onto the plane.
We survived another night on the road,
Now we've got to wake up before we're eating yesterday's dinner tomorrow.
We're getting gone.
And the neighbor's are going to keep complainin'
We're getting gone.
And we hold our tongues out even when it's not rainin'.
We're getting gone.
Let's get coffee and eat some LSD.
Smoke three cigarettes and then we'll leave.
We're getting gone.
Red pants and these Tom Ford shades.
You'll wear your Rick Owens sneakers and jacket onto the plane.
We survived another night on the road,
Now we've got to wake up before we miss another tomorrow.
We're getting gone.
We're getting gone.
But hold up 'cause I'd like to know you
I'll kiss your neck if you'll touch my face
Let's be a stereotype and make them wait all the time,
Ten more minutes, is that really the worst lie?
(Break)
We're getting gone.
And the girls and boys are running us down.
We're getting gone.
I can't remember, what's the name of this town.
We're getting gone.
**** my tongue while I turn you on.
I'll **** your tongue while you turn me on.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC
Fiery free moments
Are coming for me
They took us to London
Then New York City
As clear as the gel pens
You had while you lived in the sticks
Along with Slip'n'Slide
All the boys you played with
Always paid for your tricks
When the bizarre ill-willing troche
Trap men in their snares, and everywhere
it seems everyone's begin to stare.
Into my eyes (As a tug boat and its bride)
My dad's corduroy ties (In the closet upstairs in the basement)
You wouldn't dare, would you? You wouldn't dare
I embraced the tide that took away our guts
our stuff
when enoughs enough
enoughs enough
So carry around your game in handwritten pamphlets
While you delve into the reasons you didn't want them laminated
When I spoke to Commander Owens ("Let's say the town didn't go wild")
But rather you and I I
Left too long perhaps another time
Remember, Remember
Recital time's at noon
The pianists' laminate cut off the last bar and he's starting in 2(2)
The priest asked Justin if he'd come in earlier too
Venomously he cast aside the bride and groom
So we played Slip'n'Slide for the wedding party in our living room
Dancers start on the left then double-back with the left inside
Turn their bodies, dip their hips, restart and double-back to the right
But before the wedding party, she proposed to him with his favorite song
In the San Francisco Airport arrivals, when he turned the stereo on
Parked at curbside pickup laid down and started Slip and Sliding.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
Why?
Do overpaid millionaire bring politics to sports?
They should just play the game that's what getting paid to do?
Why?
Do we talk about racism?
Just forget what happened in the past.
That's where the problem lies?
Notice, something that the two statements have in common.
It's racist based.
Cause many loves to eradicate into a dream world that doesn't exist.
Players, seem to be the ones able to create havoc for the world to see.
Ministers afraid to go against the grain.
Afraid followers might find another church.
Like many good ministers preach you can leave here for another church of faith.
And realize one truth.
There's no PERFECT church.
Jesse Owens stood up.
Jackie Robinson stood out.
Yes, athletes some not seeking attention or glory.
But leveling out that one group leads in avoiding their creation.
Let's not talk about racism.
Sound great!
Then it does pinpoint that group creating the hell from it.
Mainly for profit.
While many against a player focusing and losing his career for his principles.
Where were the haters when Nazis/Aryans/Klams rising up?
Afraid to be seen.
There lies the problem.
We center on things that don't spotlight our reason to seek the truth.
We sit and simmer and cry over the wrong thing.
When we should see injustice effects many every day.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
Nothing against Tim.
Nothing against Jason.
Nothing against Dierk.
Or even Miranda Lambert.
But when I'm in a country mood for a musical journey.
Give me some Mel.
Give me some Conway.
Tillis and Twitty knew exactly what to say?
Give me some Cash.
Even Johnny Paycheck.
Give me sweet Reba.
Give me some Lynn.
Whether it was Loretta or the other called Anderson.
We aware females always have an answer.
Give me some Buck and the Buckeroos.
Owens and the boys was direct about love troubles.
Play me the Statlers or Barbara Mandrell.
Where she's talking about sleeping single in a double bed?
Or about being country before it became cool
Give me some Faron or Webb Pierce.
Legends of the field we can't forget about them.
If you know country, then you must know Webb Pierce.
Spin some Oak Ridge Boys and Roger Miller.
If you know country music.
Play even some Charlie.
Whether it's Daniel or Pride.
Let forget these legends as time goes by.
Now, I can listen to Wyonna of the Judds.
And maybe a little of Alabama during my musical journey of love.
And let's not forget about Dolly.
Or even Hank Williams.
Just play me some.
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
I chose the narrow path
less trod and
not well-worn
Entangled in briars and brambles
I knew my skin would be torn
As I ran along
voices whispered
taunting, jeering, mocking
my decision to take
the narrow road
But another voice penetrated the darkness
a blanket of hope
laying over all my fears
Gently reminding
this path leads home
As I ran I oft stumbled
was quick to falter and fall
Soon I understood
why this path seemed empty
and unworn
For in the moments
when I could
no longer even crawl
strong arms reached out
to carry me to the throne
by Katy Owens, December 2012
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
On the first day I learned how to spell my name,
‘h’ included,
Daddy knocked on my bedroom door and let himself in—
I was six
when he planted the evil seed inside of me.
It’s been growing ever since.
Mommy told me to go to sleep with the Bible
under my pillow,
dabbing at her swollen face, pink paisley hanky in hand.
Uncomfortable
(the Bible-pillow, that is; after a while I couldn’t care less
about Mommy’s bleeding nose).
She said Jesus listened to everyone’s sorrows,
children’s first,
that there was no need to tell anyone— He could read thoughts.
Impressive,
I thought, for a guy who’d been through a helluva lot himself,
being crucified and all that.
Daddy told Mommy not to make up ******** fairytales,*
that there’s no way
Jesus remained on the cross for as long as he did,
Pah! he said,
*they didn’t have superglue in those days, you dumb *****
Mommy said Yes-Yes, and shut her trap.
Mommy traded in her sanity for the bottle
Daddy fed her.
I stole Daddy’s shotgun and walked over to the Owens’,
where I threatened
to shoot little Jason, then aged five, if he didn’t lick me
up and down in front of his mother.
I’ve come a long way, and rumor has it there’s a price
on my little head,
that they had found Daddy’s ***** bones in the well
twelve years to the day—
but I’ve come to realize that this heart was made to ****
I’ll polish my shotgun and wait.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 2:27 AM UTC
I keep her clothing in the bed,
Fresh wet daggers of this concupiscent World. That is the standard. Don't you Hear it?
I watch the lamps and blankets singe
Cigarettes and Heineken
Nevermind, With the Lights Out
Everything is 'About A Girl',
And faking for no one.
'm too fuxked to know the difference
Stress is a knot that kills the young
I don't care about the other's wasting Their time isn't my business.
My sick is so short sighted. It carries a Black lighter inside its Gareth Pugh jeans.
Ann Demeulemeester top, Rick Owens Boots, an Obscur coat, Rad Hourani shirt
Henrik Vibskov socks, an MB999 tee.
Color is language for the body to read.
Inertia and energy protect me. I am the Opposite of a black hole. This vessel governs its own space, but I don't attempt To understand anything or any one thing.
This lizard brain keeps its ward and Wielding the almighty power of its Nightness, cosy's up near the Community of Death, Magic, and Numinous winter dirges, huffing Parfumes from her death-covered clothes.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
Dear Grandma,
How do I remember you?
You left a challenge, a challenge that has been running through my mind for the past 6 months.
Do I remember you for your Movie star looks,
or your most valued picture? (The one with ****** you, your father, and Jesse Owens.)
Do I remember you for your love of expensive things,
and your love of the Olympics?
Do I remember for you athletic ability, or for your distain of the Irish blood that runs in my veins?
Do I remember you for cutting flowers together in the garden, or for cutting me out of family pictures?
Do I remember you for your blue eyes?
Or the extensive **** memorabilia that you collected?
Do I remember you for your love of red lipstick,
or for your classist view of the world?
Do I remember you for your modeling career, or the way that my father took all your money before you were dead and put you in the cheapest nursing home he could find, and then left you there to be sedated into oblivion until you died? (A fate I would not wish on anyone).
I guess only time will tell.
Although you did not teach me the lesson that most grandmothers teach their grandchildren, you taught me some life lessons that have changed who I am and how I act for the better.
Seeing you, when I was just 7, malnourished because of your inability to cook, instilled in me the absolute necessity to know how to cook for myself and those around me.
Seeing your apartment choked to the ceiling with everything from newspaper clippings, and designer coats, to mayonnaise jars and mold, made me see the point of cleaning my room, and not having to many belongings.
When I was 8, seeing you be cruel to the cleaning lady because of the color of her skin, made me feel sick, and resolve to try and treat everyone I met and knew with equality and fairness.
Watching you squander your money on anything the telemarketer had to offer makes me think twice before I buy anything I think I might need.
You have given me many valuable lessons weather you intended to, or not.
I have heard that the line between good and evil runs in every human heart. This is something I believe. I truly believe, that there was good in you.
The last time I saw you, you were barley conscious.
You said three words to me. "I'm glad you came" and smiled. I will remember you for that smile, and I will remember you for the things you taught me.
I wish you well wherever you choose to go next.
I promise to you that, you will be remembered.
Sincerely, your Granddaughter
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Garage: A keeper and protector of things past and present. A time capsule for future generations.
Rows of expired license plates, tacked to the wall as a memorial to cars long since traded in.
Matching bicycles, hanging on hooks from the ceiling, together
have less total miles than last year’s Boston Marathon runner-up.
The obligatory 4 x 8 sheet of pegboard, with brackets for tools bought just to fill up the space. Only a few, borrowed by neighbors years ago, are missing.
A lawn mower, and a half-full, red gas can, tucked neatly in the corner.
Brown five-gallon plastic buckets, filled with rock salt, oil dry, golf ***** and the remnants of a spilled bag of bird seed.
Garbage cans, resting up for the weekly trip to the end of the drive. One is for recycling.
A snow shovel, a ***** and a *** guard the front corner in back of the garbage cans. The garden was at the first house.
A plastic Wal-Mart storage cabinet, locked shut by spider webs and two old spare tires stacked in front of it.
On the bottom shelf, should anyone care to look, are a number of one-gallon paint cans, left by the previous owner, twelve years ago. The brushes, rigor mortis having set in to the bristles, are hanging on the 4 x 8 sheet of pegboard.
Martin:
Stuff on the walls
Stuff on the floor
Hanging from rafters
No room for more
Kim:
Children's playthings long forgotten
Planks of wood almost rotten
Not a car in sight nor much light
It's a dank dark memory dungeon!
Thomas P. Owens, Sr.:
The old Dodge Dart there
long in need of a ******
back and forth to the A&P;
once a week by my Granny
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
Try JW dot Org
Have you wondered about the meaning of life?
Is God to blame for our trouble and strife?
Do you have unanswered questions that make you sigh?
Do you ever wonder what happens when you die?
Yes - Life may trouble you
Bad news may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.
Have you wondered; "Does God really care?"
“Does He listen when we pray - is He there?”
“Will war and suffering ever cease?”
“How can we find inner happiness and peace?”
Yes - Life may trouble you
Crime may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.
The reasoning is clear - the answers are viable
They always adhere to God's word in the Bible
Yes - Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.
Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
So try JW.org website.
Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
- Brendan Vincent Owens
Have you wondered about the meaning of life?
Is God to blame for our trouble and strife?
Do you have unanswered questions that make you sigh?
Do you ever wonder what happens when you die?
Yes - Life may trouble you
Bad news may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.
Have you wondered; "Does God really care?"
“Does He listen when we pray - is He there?”
“Will war and suffering ever cease?”
“How can we find inner happiness and peace?”
Yes - Life may trouble you
Crime may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.
The reasoning is clear - the answers are viable
They always adhere to God's word in the Bible
Yes - Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
Questions trouble you as well they might.
If life troubles you - questions trouble you, try JW.org website.
Life may trouble you
Doubt may trouble you
So try JW.org website.
Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
Try J W dot Org Website Try J W dot Org
- Brendan Vincent Owens
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 9:30 PM UTC
I walk outside, it's forty degrees and the grass is twinkling like your eyes do.
I stretch and sigh and feel tears ***** my eyes, the same tears that I had when I put an end to this.
So, I ran. I ran and I ran.
I ran like I was Jesse Owens and I ran like I was drunk and I ran like I needed to be drunk.
I stopped and I cried and I sighed and I loved.
I don't love you anymore, Madison, but I did at one point.
I stopped like I stopped running and stopped caring and stopped drinking to get rid of your smile burned into my eyes.
I met someone new, Madison, I met someone else and I'm happy now.
I'm happy without you, Madison.
I don't need to get drunk and I don't need to run.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
I became a customer when I went to a computer store that's called "Mouse's Pad".
When I learned that the man in charge died of cancer, it was very sad.
He repaired and sold computers and Earnest Owens was his name.
He left this world on July the 29th of 2021 and it's a **** shame.
Earnest was intelligent and honest and he was also nice.
When he fixed or sold a computer, he charged a fair price.
I felt bad when I learned that Earnest died.
He couldn't beat cancer even though he tried.
Now he's in a much better place and I'm very sorry to lose my friend.
It's sad to know that when I go to his shop, I will never see him again.
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 8:36 PM UTC
Writing poetry is ******* me off lately
I'm just skipping around life right now asking why
at everything
And I mean that sounds potentially poetic and **** but I am having the hardest time articulating
And It is ******* me off
I usally end up with questions like
Why can't I write poetry
Why won't my English teacher love me
I can tell I am stopping myself from becoming greater
Mr.Owens can tell too
why do I fear becoming grater
I fear loosing balance
I fear this going to fast
This?
I worry I don't read the empty spaces well enough
I worry I forget to breathe
weather it be in poetry or clouds I can not tell you why those empty spaces are there
Or why I need them to have a purpose
Weather it be in loving to much (not Mr. Owens) or getting too exicited about eating I lose my breath alot.
Time not spent eating or with people you love is time that could have been better spent
And after an eating disorder and a lack of (confidence) for the first some odd years I am happy to give my breath to things I love
I am happy to share my energy with people who want it
I want to write poems about everything
about my love for every thing
A space to grow is important
and where if not poems or secret conversations
And I'm not doing very well with poems right now
So let's make this a secret conversation
Please by all means give your attention to someone else who needs it or maybe yourself But if you're just sitting around with it
yes, Ill take some. Thank you.
On a side note: Everyone needs attention it's a living being thing. So it's dumb that we shame people about that and we are gonna stop
If I want to talk about my eating disorder while I have you all captive i will
if I want to talk about the stupid hair at the bottom of my ankles I always miss shaving
I will
And you will sit here and listen
But fortunately I've eaten a good amout today and got so mad at my ankle hairs last night I took the time to shave them
So here we are me talking about what I can talk about and how I can talk about it
You are listening
providing me a space where it is okay to be confused
Something I needed.
Thank you.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
Please see my last post.
I am leaving HP.
NOT because I don't love you all.
But because i love one
Person TOO MUCH!!!
My friend who is below lisred
I will alwaya love you as a friend.
No follow poet is EVER PARTED...
Ocean Blue
Solaces
Chria Fracc
Maggie Grace
Sukreeti
Arlo Disarray
Nathan Colin Owens
Ol' Storyteller
Thank you for sharing part of your hearts with me! !!!
More thanks to come...
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
what you mean by your:
metaphors; you make my heart beat louder than the footsteps of thousands of soldiers marching methodically.
tone; audacious, yet wary, laudatory, and adoring.
allusion; i know this girl who makes my heart race faster than Jesse Owens and she looks an awful lot like you.
repetition; i love you, i'm in love with you, i love your pulse, i love, love, love me.
hyperbole; i'd ****** everyone on earth just to get a taste of your lips.
just tell me what you mean.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Words have less to do
with ideas than actual things,
White, whiteness, and milk-whiteness
are three completely different distinctions,
and comprehension attributed to
connotation falls flat when you say
God.
His name, Empty,
not uttered, small White cot
upon which she rested, at last
—
gathp
—
good fortune, great life,
tangible reality
Destroyed honest(l)y.
Marks on page maneuver different directions
when meaning misrepresents reality.
Locke sent the message, Mill
tagged it, but oblivious you received it;
“Happiness, love, comfort. In no other
way would I have spent life than with you.”
How one can stumble at the Other’s
—
gathp
—
Crumble
A Milk White Whiteness washed over her,
whispered last words, tunneled vision.
The still sheet, face up, veiled eternally
the source of being loved vehemently,
he wept for new empty name.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
@[email protected]
Playing with the moldable minds
undeR
You
I know
You know
I didn't read the book.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
If William Owens caught sight
of the monstrous tugging at
the heart strings of the Chief
Theatric Officer Trump & the
so cheap & cynical little
throw-away line of "The
Bible teaches us ..."
& saying Owen was likely
happy in heaven because
the chamber "broke a record"
for the length of its ovation,
would he be happy to see
his death & his mother's
desperate suffering used
by a shallow vain opportunist
as backdrop to his coming
out as so presidential?
& whilst orchestrating grief
for the folks at home but then
"They lost Ryan" is thrown
out there because heaven
forbid Trump could take
any responsibility for this
soldiers death,
heaven forbid.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC