"paragraph" poems
Where do I start
How should i begin,
I guess i will just write
until the very end,
I could start with my name
and where i am from,
Yes, I will start with that
and then more will come,
My name is Dylan
and I was born in North Carolina,
I am nineteen years old
but I feel even older,
I look much younger or so I am told
My days are long and filled with joy
I have a daughter
No, not a boy
I work, go to school, and am a father
I own my own business
As God as my witness
I have a beautiful companion
who is full of life
She is my joy
No, not a boy
My two girls are my life
one is my daughter
The other my future wife
My Passion is Business
My title is Entrepreneur
I love what i do
Which is more than most
If you love your work
Than you too can boast
My business is a brand
Perception Apparel is the name
I create unique Clothes
And nothing is quite the same
Check me out,
The website is the name!
Among my hobbies sports are fairly high
Basketball is my favorite
Still not sure why
Other interests may include:
Food, movies, and long walks on the beach
This is begining to sound like a date
I can't think of anything else to say
My life in 300 words
It is sort of sad in a way
My life in one paragraph
Yet i have nothing left to say?
Well It seems I have begun to rant
I hope now you may know me
There is not much to see
For this is all there is to me
In essence of time
let's bring this to a close
And if you are lost, this was my Prose.
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 9:36 AM UTC
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is not some umbrella term you can use to describe how you feel when your favorite character in a book is in an intense battle unless you can somehow feel how fast their heart is beating until you can feel how hot their blood is until you can feel what it’s like to be that character in that situation the weight of the world on your shoulders
Anxiety is not finding lighting candles to be the only solution, candles are another problem. Another long paragraph to your list of “Things That Can Easily **** Me” example: “I didn’t leave any matches out, did I? I blew out the candle right? I need to check. Do I smell burning?? PUT THE CAP WHEN IT’S DONE! Will set off my fire alarm? Does my fire alarm work? Where’s my fire alarm??? Where’s somewhere I can put it so it doesn’t hurt me. THIS IS OK THIS IS NORMAL THIS IS RELAXATION.”
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is horrible flashing images, constant reminders, the most negative form of “what if” imaginable.
Anxiety is wasting all your time thinking about an 8 page paper due for class in a week but instead of bringing yourself to writing it you are sobbing on the floor thinking of how bad for your grade this will be.
Anxiety is having a crush on a girl and trying out makeup for the first time.
Anxiety is having a crush on a guy and wondering if your sense of humor is funny enough.
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is downloading an app that checks on your health and leaves you wondering how long this has been going on for.
Anxiety is wondering how to fix your eating disorder instead of actually fixing it
Anxiety is outing yourself to fit in
Anxiety is always wearing pants because you’re too afraid of your own scars
Anxiety is staying up countless nights crying crying crying you cannot yell your thoughts are no longer your own
Anxiety is writing a list of pros and cons to killing yourself
Anxiety is lighting a candle so you can slowly burn the list because
Anxiety is telling you if someone finds out, you will die.
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is having making a friend and losing them in less than a year
Anxiety is wondering if all this help is helping or do I need to help myself
Anxiety is your friends questioning you non-stop are they really questioning you or do you question yourself?
Anxiety is memorizing the suicide prevention hotline
Anxiety is beating yourself up countless times “How could you forget something as simple as a Birthday?!”
Anxiety is “I only have three friends and one hates me, one I’m trying not to lose, and the other I love too much to tell the truth”
Anxiety is “It’s only a matter of time before we all die!”
Anxiety is “Congratulations! Two of your friends have died this year alone! One ******* hates you! Oh! HAHA! Wait! They all ******* hate you!”
Anxiety can turn you from “Wow. I look kinda good today.” to ”DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA!”
JUST ******* KIDDING!
ANXIETY IS STRESS!
AND MUCH
MUCH
MORE!!!!!!!!
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
My words became
knives.
A paragraph,
a sword.
And when I
made
my first speech,
the room
was
hit
with
a
grenade.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 12:17 AM UTC
How to start writing
How to keep writing
Write, write, write
Writing
Pick a subject for writing
Make sure you reference your writing
Write, write, write
Keep writing
This amount of words for writing
Plus or minus 100 word max leeway for writing
Write, write, write
Still writing
Quotes in your writing
Punctuation for writing
Write, write, write
Writing
Title for writing
Page numbers for writing
Underline, paragraph, CAPITALISE
Your writing
Margin your writing
Spell check your writing
Re write, research, rephrase
Your writing
Is this your writing?
Question your writing
Read
Hate
***** up
Start again
Your writing
Check your writing
Get a friend to check your writing
Panic, stress, just write
Your writing
****** writing
This will do, writing
Print, bind, hand in
Your writing
Write some more as you sign off your writing
Sigh
Feel sick
Crash
Sleep
Writing
Wait, wait, wait
Wait for someone to read your writing
Judge your writing
Mark your writing
Wait, wait, wait
Receive your writing
Read another's writing about your writing
Their writing, writing about your writing
To write whether the words in your writing are good writing
Therefore RIGHT writing
Or
Infact writing that ought not to have been written in the first place.
Now tell me
From this writing
And writing
And writing
And more writing
How do you write the words that you now want to be written?
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
Intro:
Start with a hook sharp enough to catch many fish.
Move into a broad outline of topic.
Add some examples to peek the interest.
End with a sentence that captures your thoughts.
(Start the way you feel it should be).
Body:
Flavorful topic sentence to open paragraph one.
State in detail specific examples and definitions.
Follow with a reference or two,
This keeps suspicion off you.
Keep same format for paragraph two and three.
(Continue on the feel that increases how you started).
(Or retrograde and start a new direction).
Conclusion:
Wake the reader back up with thesaurus found words.
State again the reason for your thoughts.
Honing specifically on what you want to say,
Without of course bringing in new info.
End with a memorable sign off.
(End with completing your thoughts).
(Or start a new idea entirely),
(Not leaving enough room for explanation).
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
It's not that I don't love you. It's the time I read my mom's old journals and every other paragraph included my fathers name. It's that he cheated on every girlfriend he had with my mom. It's that my mom didn't care she was a second choice or a one night stand. It's that my mother never talked to anyone about him after he got married to one of the many girlfriends. It's that she took twenty sleeping pills on the night of what would've been their anniversary. It's that he doesn't even know she's dead.
It's not that I don't love you. It's the couple I overheard in the bread aisle arguing over wheat or white. It's that I heard the woman say a lot of "she" and **** and I saw her crumble to the ground. It's that he just shook his head and said he was sorry over and over again.
It's not that I don't love you. It's that my best friend is in love with a boy on the other side of the country. It's the morning she took a shower and cried over him. It's that he wasn't even awake to do anything about it. It's that he's always three hours behind and thousands too many miles away. It's that I mean both physically and mentally sometimes.
It's not that I don't love you. It's my geometry teacher, who brought up her husband when she taught me tangents. It's that she also brought up her husband when she taught me the circle unit
too. It's that she gets quiet and smiles after she talks about him. It's that he's been passed away for seven years now and she still has so much to say. It's that she still wears her wedding ring. It's that when she taught me special right triangles, I wondered what her laugh might sound like if he were still here.
What I'm trying to say is; It's not that I don't love you. It's that I do.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
If you are single do not stress it, mainly it's because you understand the complexity of the relationship recipe you're a child of destiny and a victim of intuition, morally gifted, respectfully lifted, GPS couldn't follow your mission, eagerly itching; but if they don't cut the standards you know how to dismiss 'em, If they're not sharp enough they have no place in your kitchen; not smart enough they don't deserve a compound sentence PERIOD
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
*i am a mere word of this page
and you are the phrases i admire most that i can't have.
at least give me a proof of sentence,
that i am still part of your paragraph.
i've never thought that this boundless sea of whiteness
can be so lonesome.
the large gap between us and other words,
feels like the vastness of the ocean,
drowning me in and out of the pages.*
©IGMS
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
Golden Valleys, Growing Naturally
<>
This is a Logo in Ireland, Dairygold™
is the company.
I would safely say, that there is hardly
an acre in rural Ireland devoid of some
form of artificial fertilisers, pesticides,
herbicides or fungicides.
(Ireland is riddled with consumer cancer)
If the Logo was written as follows,
a comma between Growing & Naturally
plus an exclamation mark ! which should
really be a question mark ? (in the absence
of the comma between Valleys & Growing)
i.e.
Golden Valleys, Growing, Naturally! or ?
Then it might pass.
Let's see if we can force them to change
it and by doing so, it will highlight the
fraudulent practice of duping consumers
with blatant grammatical omissions and
the wordplay illusion by clever marketers.
(Well, perhaps not as clever as they thought)
ps.
I spent all morning, wondering should they
be a comma in the last paragraph, in the
afternoon, I removed it. Oscar Wilde.
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 3:27 AM UTC
Semester Exam
Fluorescents flicker and fall upon bowed heads
And printed letter-paper, organized
By title, paragraph, number, and line,
Interrogations set in Bookman Old Style
And then words fall, flung bravely to each sheet
As desperate, inky thoughts flailing for breath
While to battered be by split infinitives
Demanding an A, praying for a prom date.
The paper's a mess, one’s mind is in shreds
Fluorescents flicker and fall upon bowed heads
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
United ***** College Fund
Continuing education in never being outdone
A mind can take you far providing you have the education supplying the fundamental tools
Intellect with the approach to define
Knowledge in resolutions to find
Education be ongoing doesn’t need to end
It’s a matter of affordability with an organization that says can
Having the opportunity with acceleration on when
Achieve is a form of excel
It’s tomorrow being our young people to tell
United ***** College Fund who has education to sell
College education being everyone’s given right
The thirst for knowledge with understanding in plain sight
It’s a solid learning foundation
A word having an expression
A sentence being the given promise
The paragraph forming the success
The College Graduate who can contest
Presentation illustrating achievement
It was the college education where knowledge was gained
United ***** College Fund wants this to remain
The aim to inspire continuing thinking minds
Achieve beyond and turn into wonder
“An educated mind is too precious to lose, but continued learning and not be confused”
Support the United ***** College Fund anyway you can
Put soar in education for our young people to explore, and turn from neglect which is an element of ignore.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 3:20 PM UTC
my intelligence is not defined by a number, nor a letter.
nor should I be graded on a curve
by people
who don’t know me.
What does knowing the pythagorean theorem
have to do with me being a good person?
what will memorizing words on a page
help me with my rage
raging about how education has become
this conveyor belt
chewing up and spitting out
society’s warped up idea
of intelligence.
Throw me in a classroom with twenty-something students
just to tell me I’m better than him
but not as smart as her
teachers saturating our brains
with force fed textbook equations
telling us this is what we have to know to make it
“make it on time”, they say
“Passing it in late is not okay”
but when I am eventually thrown out
of this conveyor belt of education
the realization will be that life does not have
a set schedule.
my life will not change on time, as you ask
I cannot cram my creativity onto a five-paragraph
piece of paper.
I cannot crunch my knowledge
down onto six pages
about who I am
Don’t give me guidelines
my future does not have guidelines
you think you’re teaching us information
but in reality, you’re teaching us around the system
of how to get a passing grade
but not the exceeding knowledge
knowledge about what?
Our history?
what about our future?
We can’t learn about our future by staring at a blackboard
in a dim-lit room
with twenty-something other people
wondering what the hell we’re doing here
but being too scared to stand up
and ask.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
Almost 3 years. That’s all it took, 3 years for me to fall in love with you. We never became anything, it was because I never wanted us to be. I wasted every single thing you gave me. I threw away the flowers you gave me for my birthday because of the reason I thought they were too cliche, I crumpled the love letters you wrote for me for I didn’t want your words to be my medicine, I never accepted the love you were giving me because I refuse to let anyone in. And after 3 years, I realised that I also needed flowers not just thorns, that I was suffering from taking poison for years because I never took your medicine and that sometimes it would be great to let someone in. You gave everything to me, your eyes somehow managed to have some light in them whenever they saw me but I killed the light and turned it into darkness, you do not own your smile anymore since you gave it to me but I returned it to you that’s why right now all you could ever do is frown because I erased it from you, and you gave me your entire universe but unfortunately I wasn’t interested in cosmology back then. But now? There is nothing I want to study but your universe and all that’s revolving around it. I did all of those things, maybe that’s why you became the first word of this paragraph. You became my almost, and not just an ordinary one, but an almost that I could never ever forget.
We were the children of love, however timing wants us to be orphans. Just when I started realising my love for you, you found yourself. You built your own universe and your smile became even more happier than before, your eyes speak a thousand words now, they are no longer the ones I wasted. I would do anything if I could ever just turn back time, I would hold you and tell you that I feel the same, I would give you all the things you gave me, I would do anything for you. Too many could have been, should have been, and what ifs. But nothing could ever change what is happening, perhaps it’s right for me to feel this, to feel this pain, the pain that I gave you. Love wanted us to feel the same. Timing does too, but the difference is timing wants us to feel the same pain. I don’t want to beg you to love me, or to stay, or to do everything just to bring back the flames because baby all I am about to do is to hope. I will not hope for you, but I will hope for days.
I hope for the day everything would finally be okay. I hope for the day that we are both happy, and that we are ready to make each other happier. I hope for the day that we can both see the moon in our eyes and the sun in our smiles. I hope for the day that we are both prepared to let each other in, and that we are no longer cowards but brave people. I hope for the day that we are finally exploring each other's universe and we will both realise that is the only thing we would ever want to study. I hope for the day our fire will warm us both instead of burning us to death. I hope your water will cleanse me and mine will make you feel alive instead of drowning each other because of our deep oceans. I hope for the day that we can finally heal one another instead of destroying each other. I hope for the day that we consider each other to be our home, not just some place you can go to because you don’t have anywhere else to stay. I hope that we will no longer fight the hurricanes and storms we gave to each other, because one day, we would conquer them, hand in hand, together. I hope for the day that you are no longer my almost, but my always. And maybe, one day, timing will be our friend not our foe, or maybe we would even be strong enough to fight it, but right now we aren’t even strong enough to fight for our love. I will hope for these days to come, I will hope for these things to happen, I will hope for everything. Because that’s the only thing I could do right now.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
there's ethical idealism:
where ethics is discussed...
there's ethical relativism:
where ethics is practised...
there's ethical realism...
where ethics is quantified
as an improbability;
and then there's ethical
absolutism,
where we supposedly
"progress" -
in this scenario are
the laws of physics actually
suspended:
whereby oculus qua oculus
is replaced -
a loss of an eye is "relative"
to 10 years in a cage...
really?!
ethics is
ideal, realistic, absolute or relative...
we're encouraged to live
in "realistic relativism"...
never in an absolute realism,
since realistic relativism
only compares itself
to ideal absolutism...
and nothing more...
ever watched that film
secrets in their eyes?
you ever wonder what
ethical idealism is to the ethnical
consequence that can absorb
a realistic libra?
i can only believe in
ethical absolutism,
ethical relativism is horrid to me...
relativism adorns idealism,
absolutism adorns realism...
a life sentence is worse than
a death sentence,
whether justified or not,
prison is sadism,
but at least ****** is simply ******
a space-time intact,
a ****** penalty is not
inhumane, nor a ouija board...
it's time for time,
space for space,
the actual punishment comes
with the missing adrenaline rush
of the unexpected reception of the wielded
weapon...
either send these jealous plonkers to
siberia, or sentence them to death,
for you are no more than they are,
nay, you are more...
you're akin to cats toying,
playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated
mice...
this is why i abhor
ethical relativism of the crucifix...
hence my belief in ethical
absolutism in the paragraph of realism,
which is perfected, by
being exacted, and never, ever,
being leisurely discussed,
on a farcical palette with a grimace
to boot: ******* a lemon;
compensating the horrors within
minutes, is never compensated
with ordeals that last years...
which is why i find the death penalty
an act of authentic humanity,
and not this quasi-humanitarian
act of pardon, ******* hypocrites -
i abhor the caged rat
more than the rat gladly nibbling
on a dead corpse...
at least there was passion
in the ******
waiting for death penalty is like killing
a vermin with poison,
disposing them with nonchalantly...
the wise maxim states:
ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi -
strike the iron while it's hot...
death is the dawn-broker -
a new tomorrow promise -
left intact, the fermenting process
of ethical dynamism takes over...
then again,
the supposedly "evolved"
preferred moral relativism to moral
absolutism,
because there was no
moral realism to speak of,
since morality could only
be talked about in ideal terms of
the supposedly so, supposedly
fashioned via: it ought to never happen to
me...
and then it might, and then:
oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty ****
into shambles of keeping up with
the presupposed pillar of argument
being "impenetrable";
hey, genius, back to the blackboard!
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
How do you get your mind off things?
Oh, read a book! That's it!
Let's read a sentence, a paragraph, a page.
Can you remember what you read?
Yes? Good!
No? Well welcome to my life.
Every sentence of every paragraph of every page
has brought back a memory or a wondering thought.
Memories and thoughts that clog my brain.
Remembering regrets. thinking of alternative solutions.
Reading over and over again the same words.
Not understanding anything it says.
going into deep thought,
changing emotion left and right.
Not even able to sound out a word
or remember its meaning.
trying to block them out!
I need to stop over thinking!
bringing the book inches from my face
because I can't even remember what a letter sounds like!
My mind is fried with deep thoughts
maybe I'll try reading again tomorrow...
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
Anxiety has taught me that the large blue doors at the entrance to the next four years of my life are there to keep me in more than to keep others out
That the best way to keep the students with no future away from the students with one is to create advanced classes that will determine whether a college will allow you entrance without a doubt
Anxiety taught me what it's like to hold back tears
And how to freak the guy next to you out because he's never had to handle a girl crying and being dependent upon and not being able to provide is one of his greatest fears
Anxiety taught me that "it's not just one quiz it's the rest of your life!"
That you must work hard in school and get into college and get a good job and make money and these are the only ways to become someone's wife
That seeing your fears of not being good enough becoming true in the eyes of the only one you love and that it feels like your heart has been stabbed at by a knife
Or when you're sick and throwing up but you have a paper due in 3 hours and it's either sleep or finish the paragraph who's sentences will probably end up slurred
Anxiety taught me that time is not your friend
That it will not be there when the fate of the rest of your life is hanging on 10 more words to reach the 500 word limit
Anxiety has taught me that no matter how many assignments you complete you’ll never get rid of this weight on your chest
That you have to keep working until there's no more time to rest
That you can do problems 1-50 in your textbook and it'll teach you the material but not how to take a test
That no matter how many hours you study you will not perform your best
Anxiety taught me what it's like to put all of your eggs in one basket.
One human shaped basket that isn't always around and won't be awake at 2 in the morning because he has an 8 AM and needs his sleep
But when he doesn't have an assignment going to bed early is one of the many promises he cannot keep
Anxiety taught me what a social barrier is
A beer covered barrier that reminds you that all he's going to want to do this summer is drink because that's all he's done the last 8 months and you haven't been there
And that you don't like the taste of alcohol much and he knows that but he'll still hand you a shot out of nowhere
That you can feel yourself getting drunker and drunker and that terrifies you and he knows that but he no longer seems to care
Anxiety is more than being nervous before you ask someone to prom
anxiety is more than feeling helpless when your parents don't get along
Anxiety is being the hero and failing
Anxiety is being afraid of heights and knowing you'll have to fall every single day
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
The words are a playground,
no bell to call me in.
And wander I must
past fences, over grasses verdant
finding trees that take words
and split them like branches.
I eat the apples
leaving some of me behind along the way.
I am a constant poet.
If every morning that began with words in mind prompted a new poem, then I'd be a constant poet. Like this morning, would have been a bit about gerunds and how you just shouldn't gerundize some nouns because it isn't right. And then some are right but not because the connotation of the word or context remains the same. Take pan and paning, for example. One is breakfast and the other in film. But anyway, if I'm allowed to not make sense often then perhaps I am a constant poet. I asked the question, "Why is the expression take a **** Taking isn't what we do..." Perhaps the language affords us many luxuries of interpretation that forgive literal correctness and rules. Like writing a paragraph of prose for Hello Poetry. But maybe we are here because we question the limits and take the license and more. The words become a playground, not a chore. Yes that's it! My morning meandering leads to a single poetic thought.
The words are a playground,
no bell to call me in.
And wander I must
past fences, over grasses verdant
finding trees that take words
and split them like branches.
I eat the apples
leaving some of me behind along the way.
I am a constant poet.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
The world is an aquarium
We all have a tank
With a paragraph of information about us next to our tank
When people see you they notice your looks and move on
If you are a tall skinny blond boy with blue eyes the girls will stop and get to know you
If you are a shorter boy with brown hair who has acne and is wider people might just move onto the next exhibit
The people in the tanks can't tell what they people on the outside are saying
But they don't care
They are all unique and they know that
People will always judge but they are not the ones you should try and impress
You are the only one who can truly judge you
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
I have an urge to write words that make the soul cry
Weep tears of enlightenment
To summarize my life in a paragraph
No more body criticism, snipping my spaghetti straps
Running in a stumbled line away from confinement
Forgetting the word comprise
Reality takes a stand reminding me, who will be the mediocre house wife
Instead of making a dramatic exit, I drink whiskey and the world has plenty
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
our conversations are all in blue.
i try not to mind it,
like i try not to mind the hair falling out of my scalp.
you're just busy being unattached to me.
i make excuses for you as easy as i double text.
they flood my head like mantras,
but not the kind that make you feel calm or loved.
it's more like telling yourself you won't throw up after the twisty roads up the mountain.
but i want to see the view with you.
so i keep sending you blue paragraphs filled with 'sorry's and 'i love you's.
you send the same grey 'i love you, too's.
and we call it communication.
i'm the driver and the passenger
the carsick kid trying not to throw up and the toddler asking over and over if we're there yet.
but i want to see the view with you.
would it hurt to send a grey paragraph? or ask me,
in your best whine,
if we are at the top yet?
throw up in my lap. drive me crazy.
ask me for the aux cord and i'll give it to you.
i'm done listening to this album on repeat.
i want to hold your hand without worrying if your fingers are numb and you just don't want to hurt my feelings.
this car needs more you.
and i don't mean the you dressed in grey half messages that you probably rewrote three times.
i need the you that talked about faking our deaths together
like it was the only part of life worth living.
wearing that laugh you always say is too loud,
but really it sounds like music.
i like my music loud and angry.
and ****** at your parents for being expired versions of themselves, always expecting you to be organic.
i need that you like i need a vice.
because that's who i want to see the view with.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 3:13 AM UTC
day 1 - I sobbed at the sound of your name, my mom had to listen outside of my door to make sure I was still breathing correctly
day 2 - I woke up early to get your good morning text, and it crashed on me that you were no longer there
day 3 - I went in public for the first time, I looked rough but luckily nobody pointed it out
day 4 - I went to work and cried in the bathroom
day 5 - I spent time with my family and I didn't think about you much
day 6 - I saw you with another girl and I locked myself in my room the whole day
day 7 - I laughed without you
day 8 - I saw a picture of you on Instagram and I threw all the pictures of us away
day 9 - I partied with my friends and I didn't think about you at all
day 10 - what color are your eyes? what does your voice sound like?
day 11 - I saw you in the store, we made quick eye contact but then you looked away
day 12 - I didn't think of you at all because I was too busy telling jokes with another guy
day 13 - when is heartbreak so romantic? it's not romantic when you feel the inside of you just break and you have no willingness to do anything
day 14 - I almost wished you a happy birthday, but your new girlfriend was all over you, so I walked away
day 15 - I threw all of your belongings away
day 16 - I laughed as guys hit on me because I knew that they're all just like you
day 17 - I typed out a long paragraph to send you and my finger was shaking on the send button but I never sent it
day 18 - did you ever love me?
day 19 - my family asked about you, and I was strong
day 20 - I finally opened up to my mom about what happened
day 21 - this is a terrible poem about a terrible person but I don't think of you so much anymore, I don't think of you so much anymore
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
the narrative does not cling to classicalism of stating whether the pronoun usage is either singular or plural or both to allow an armchair of expression; after all... there's enough for us to bypass the classical philosophical debate about subject and object, simply investigating pronoun usage in relation to singularity or pluralism.
there’s a theory where poetry came from,
one read: cleopatra wanted to hear sweet-nothings
calibrating a razor with a viper’s kiss...
another read: she báthory?
she báthory? she the one that turned milk into blood?
she can burn in hell.
i thought we were un-dialectical in the realms of concern?
no... you see... poetry came from punctuated-impressionism...
or a fear of it... punctuation of course, not from the impressionism...
poets fear punctuation...
give them a semi-colon
and
they
treat
it
like a sidelined line of verse.
this is poetry in mathematical equations:
i had a pear(,)
it was a spare(.)
i had a care for traffic(-)
so i missed( )
the expressions and started using an obelisk to quarter up the mammoth
into chop suey...
poets simple say: next line! when prose says next paragraph
and the prized execution of the 100m sprint . . . (.)
that’s universal alpha romeo with alfa bravo charlie delta (echo)...
come on in the u-turn... give us a smile......... :),
poets says... i need breathing space
without sentenced timing of silence, for the toad to feed inspiration
and envy!
no wonder you came with the alpha - zulu
alphabet given that you used ɪɡ and zoʊ...
so tell me... where’s this copernican west upside down
(this heliocentric west with east being the big bang)?!
i'd swear the thing stopped orbiting in circles
and a thing that's on it's thought started to become
orbital... a fashion sense of the 60s 70s 80s 90s repeated -
that's right, the whole thing became heliocentric
and we became narcissists instead of solipsists
in the geocentric system of worked-up plagiarism
with adequate excuses.)
it's here it the poets apprehensive of punctuation symbology
and instead writing "sparingly,"
to write, e.g.:
i
hate
this
love
affair
claimed
to
be
the
world...
i
rather
chisel
chequers
into
geometry
of
x4
90º.
makes sense poets begot fear of
punctuation and not grammar, they
serviced to explore nothing else,
leaving grammar open long enough to *****
mathematics in... remember...
poets are firstly concerned with punctuation...
secondly with grammar...
philosophy for poets is grammar;
**** i'm um um so drunk i'll need to revise.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
I'd love a paragraph wakeup message every now and then...
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
Lavender and metal
Will settle
Whatever is broken in me
I want to be
As stoic as a a cherry tree.
Take enough pills
To block out all the madness thrills.
But that was last paragraph
Accepting blades with a laugh
Lavender and metal
Sharpened to a fine gin edge
Throw out who you are, that's the pledge
I can never utter
Because of the shutter
She causes.
I lost count of the loses.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
Despair unrequited asked of me;
*where do proverbs, poems...
such wisdom's go to die?*
do they expire with the ink of thought
penning themselves out of imagination?
or simply tire of expectation?
tell me
&
i would scourge
that unenlightened grave-site,
guillotine its immoral keeper,
&
decapitate him upon
a writer’s block!
show me
&
i will breach earths bowels
wrenching words from darkness' depths
with the light verse of celebration
&
a calligrapher’s paragraph of praise.
only then should i rest in piece
from wordy passion
scribed with its, novel pleasures
&
when spent,
upon my epitaph do write;
*'she was consumed,
birthing words to life'*
© Qwey.ku
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 12:06 AM UTC