"ped" poems - Hello Poetry

"ped" poems

Ek arsaa ** gya h aabaadi dkhte dkhte Ab khushal ped nhi patjhad lubhata h mjhe Ab to there ishq mai khaak hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Ab suraj ki roshni nhi andhera pyara lgta h mjhe Ab upar Jana nhi girna pyara lgta h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai raakh hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Ab to dil m pyar nhi dard accha lgta h mjhe Is bejaan shareer mai khoon nhi nasha acha lgta h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai taaj hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Teri ek ek yaad apne ashko se bahani h mjhe Teri ek ek hasi apne gum se chupani h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai zinda laash hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Ishq ki maala m vishwas k motiyon ko todna h mjhe Duniya k jhoote riti riwazo ko todna h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai kisi shayar k labo ki awaz hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe

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Jan 9, 2017

Jan 9, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC

Ab to bas barbaad hona hai mjhe

Ek arsaa ** gya h aabaadi dkhte dkhte Ab khushal ped nhi patjhad lubhata h mjhe Ab to there ishq mai khaak hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Ab suraj ki roshni nhi andhera pyara lgta h mjhe Ab upar Jana nhi girna pyara lgta h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai raakh hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Ab to dil m pyar nhi dard accha lgta h mjhe Is bejaan shareer mai khoon nhi nasha acha lgta h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai taaj hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Teri ek ek yaad apne ashko se bahani h mjhe Teri ek ek hasi apne gum se chupani h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai zinda laash hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe Ishq ki maala m vishwas k motiyon ko todna h mjhe Duniya k jhoote riti riwazo ko todna h mjhe Ab to tere ishq mai kisi shayar k labo ki awaz hona h mjhe Ab to bas barbaad hona h mjhe

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words all have their roots ped = foot saurus = dinosaur photo = light just like my love for you has roots or like a tree has roots and all these things are infinite the power of language the power of nature and the power of love

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Feb 5, 2018

Feb 5, 2018 at 1:19 AM UTC

words all have their roots ped = foot saurus = dinosaur photo = light just like my love for you has roots or like a tree has roots and all these things are infinite the power of language the power of nature and the power of love

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I miss my cargo green canvas backpack Shredded with the mass of three science textbooks: biology, classical history, chemistry. Not like backpack was meant for several colossal three hundred page hardcover books. When it was empty, it was light, barely anything, tugging on my shoulders; but I insisted the friend come with me. But I used backpack for study, drudgery, play. The linen wore with every use. It was my safety blanket, under loose cloth that contained sacarine orange glucose tablets that I hoped to never need Inside the main large pocket, there was a secret zipper, within held a pack of cigarettes, an excuse, to pardon myself into a realm of aloneness- with little questions asked There were strings that adjusted its position on my back that I would pull down, using tension to fling myself terminal to terminal More than fifteen times, I lost count, of my partner traversing across oceans, gently cradling my laptop and phone- my trusted links with the outside world Nervousness alleviated by the tassels in my mouth, I bite and chew on the cloth, but it holds steadfast as I ponder how to approach what's next, the bittersweet coffee they fell into rehydrates with my salivating mouth, hungry for adventure but a stomach empty knots itself anxious for what's to come My backpack weighs on my shoulders, empty or full, but it's trained my body to carry the load thoughts in my head bring upon me But it yielded to what was to come, the seams at the bottom gave out. Backpack let me know: I needed to learn to carry on without reliance.

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Jun 2, 2015

Jun 2, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC

R.I.P(ped) Backpack

I miss my cargo green canvas backpack Shredded with the mass of three science textbooks: biology, classical history, chemistry. Not like backpack was meant for several colossal three hundred page hardcover books. When it was empty, it was light, barely anything, tugging on my shoulders; but I insisted the friend come with me. But I used backpack for study, drudgery, play. The linen wore with every use. It was my safety blanket, under loose cloth that contained sacarine orange glucose tablets that I hoped to never need Inside the main large pocket, there was a secret zipper, within held a pack of cigarettes, an excuse, to pardon myself into a realm of aloneness- with little questions asked There were strings that adjusted its position on my back that I would pull down, using tension to fling myself terminal to terminal More than fifteen times, I lost count, of my partner traversing across oceans, gently cradling my laptop and phone- my trusted links with the outside world Nervousness alleviated by the tassels in my mouth, I bite and chew on the cloth, but it holds steadfast as I ponder how to approach what's next, the bittersweet coffee they fell into rehydrates with my salivating mouth, hungry for adventure but a stomach empty knots itself anxious for what's to come My backpack weighs on my shoulders, empty or full, but it's trained my body to carry the load thoughts in my head bring upon me But it yielded to what was to come, the seams at the bottom gave out. Backpack let me know: I needed to learn to carry on without reliance.

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Kabhi chale ** un raahon pe Jinse jude ** qisse kaafi tumhaare Jin raahon pe hasi mazaak ki thi doston ke sang Unnhi raahon mein tumne bhare the woh yaadon ke rang Kabhi socha na tha ki Akele bhi chalna padega kabhi Goonjti hai woh awaaz tumhaari Jab bhi chalta hu un raahon parr Peeche mudke dekh bhi leta hu kabhi Ke mehez dikh jaaye parchayi tumhari Parr dikhte toh woh adhoore waadein he hein Bebas karr rakhe hein mujhe jinhone Woh baarish..woh dhoop Sabka kiya tha saamna Jab haath tha tumne mera thaama Kya Yaad hai woh fool Jo tod laayi thi tum uss ped se Mere yaadon ke Gulshan mein Khila hai woh fool kabse Hasrat toh dekhiye Woh ped bhi na sambhal paaya Mujhe akela dekhkar Woh bhi murjhaaya Yahin chalte waqt kaha tha na Ki chodogi nahi yeh haath kabhi Chaahe fariyad ** jaaye humse harr koi Tumhaare usi saath ki khoj mein hu Jise laga liya tha apne rooh se kabhi Sahi kaha tha uss shaks ne ki Manzil nahi raahon mein junoon pao Kyunki manzil toh pahuche he nahi the ke Bewafa karr gayi mujhe uss raah pe akele Kabhi Chalke dekhna Inhi raahon pe akele Yaad karna woh beetein hue qisse Aur ** sake toh mudke dekhna Dikhunga mein usi mod parr Jaahan chod gayi thi mujhe..karke inkar Kyunki badal liye tumne apne raahein Jo kabhi samajh na paayi meri yeh fitoor nigaahein

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May 19, 2020

May 19, 2020 at 12:21 PM UTC

Kabhi chale ** un raahon pe Jinse jude ** qisse kaafi tumhaare Jin raahon pe hasi mazaak ki thi doston ke sang Unnhi raahon mein tumne bhare the woh yaadon ke rang Kabhi socha na tha ki Akele bhi chalna padega kabhi Goonjti hai woh awaaz tumhaari Jab bhi chalta hu un raahon parr Peeche mudke dekh bhi leta hu kabhi Ke mehez dikh jaaye parchayi tumhari Parr dikhte toh woh adhoore waadein he hein Bebas karr rakhe hein mujhe jinhone Woh baarish..woh dhoop Sabka kiya tha saamna Jab haath tha tumne mera thaama Kya Yaad hai woh fool Jo tod laayi thi tum uss ped se Mere yaadon ke Gulshan mein Khila hai woh fool kabse Hasrat toh dekhiye Woh ped bhi na sambhal paaya Mujhe akela dekhkar Woh bhi murjhaaya Yahin chalte waqt kaha tha na Ki chodogi nahi yeh haath kabhi Chaahe fariyad ** jaaye humse harr koi Tumhaare usi saath ki khoj mein hu Jise laga liya tha apne rooh se kabhi Sahi kaha tha uss shaks ne ki Manzil nahi raahon mein junoon pao Kyunki manzil toh pahuche he nahi the ke Bewafa karr gayi mujhe uss raah pe akele Kabhi Chalke dekhna Inhi raahon pe akele Yaad karna woh beetein hue qisse Aur ** sake toh mudke dekhna Dikhunga mein usi mod parr Jaahan chod gayi thi mujhe..karke inkar Kyunki badal liye tumne apne raahein Jo kabhi samajh na paayi meri yeh fitoor nigaahein

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it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner. the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to: denial anger bargaining depression acceptance my denial proces: many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident. through denial became anger: i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry. bargaining is a toxic healing method: i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken. depression hit hard: i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help. acceptance: this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.

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Jan 4, 2019

Jan 4, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC

new years resolution

it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner. the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to: denial anger bargaining depression acceptance my denial proces: many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident. through denial became anger: i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry. bargaining is a toxic healing method: i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken. depression hit hard: i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help. acceptance: this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.

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we must be living on opposite sides of the galaxy I can see you are a bi-ped what more can a spider say?

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May 7, 2014

May 7, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC

we must be living on opposite sides of the galaxy I can see you are a bi-ped what more can a spider say?

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Fair-weather front seat Lookin' at the moonbeams Solid, sympathizing The sun on the horizon Sippin' foreign coffee Listening to redwood heartbeats Smoking cigarettes in a black dress At 430 am, nonetheless. 430 am ocean breeze Quiet enough to hear a stop sign sneeze Counting all the bird calls Staring at the fog walls Making entities out of mist and light And thinking about where to crash tonight Or where to drink- How arousing is pink? Pink, plush lips on a long skinny straw It's amazing how I get anything done at all, Always thinking about *** Always thinking about **** He asked for a smile, I said, "Whatever you need." Got some stories I don't care to tell Got a family I don't know so well So, which do you trust? Your love or your lust? Have no resistance at all And get kicked around like a rag doll. My eyes get withdrawals When I ain't near the stars My ears and nose start to bleed When I ain't near the sea Bi-ped amphibean Transplant Caribbean Sittin' here wrongin' wishin I was belongin'

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Jul 27, 2013

Jul 27, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC

Fair-weather front seat Lookin' at the moonbeams Solid, sympathizing The sun on the horizon Sippin' foreign coffee Listening to redwood heartbeats Smoking cigarettes in a black dress At 430 am, nonetheless. 430 am ocean breeze Quiet enough to hear a stop sign sneeze Counting all the bird calls Staring at the fog walls Making entities out of mist and light And thinking about where to crash tonight Or where to drink- How arousing is pink? Pink, plush lips on a long skinny straw It's amazing how I get anything done at all, Always thinking about *** Always thinking about **** He asked for a smile, I said, "Whatever you need." Got some stories I don't care to tell Got a family I don't know so well So, which do you trust? Your love or your lust? Have no resistance at all And get kicked around like a rag doll. My eyes get withdrawals When I ain't near the stars My ears and nose start to bleed When I ain't near the sea Bi-ped amphibean Transplant Caribbean Sittin' here wrongin' wishin I was belongin'

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curse the cigarette per ched between the inde x and the middle on th e left and curse it's phy sical continuity from w rist to arm to elbow to s houlder to ribs to torso t o leftleg to leftfoot cram ped in campus awkward slytherin shoelace concre te sidewalk enter McDon ald's and see u are trappe d --- yer surrounded and p oundin yer head on a wris twatch of visceral grease an d invincible greed and invis ible seeds of 'why cryin' ol' c hild why cryin'?'

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Dec 4, 2013

Dec 4, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC

any philosopher and he ended with an 'ugh!!'

curse the cigarette per ched between the inde x and the middle on th e left and curse it's phy sical continuity from w rist to arm to elbow to s houlder to ribs to torso t o leftleg to leftfoot cram ped in campus awkward slytherin shoelace concre te sidewalk enter McDon ald's and see u are trappe d --- yer surrounded and p oundin yer head on a wris twatch of visceral grease an d invincible greed and invis ible seeds of 'why cryin' ol' c hild why cryin'?'

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How To Dress For My Funeral black or white, hot n'pink, lavender always a fav, at a fun funeral rave, lacy or plain, your choice, tho clean would be nice, won't matter to me very much, the color of your underwear. but do not fail to recall, the dead, their vision keen, can see all! funeral gravity rules to be strictly observed, snickering and giggling to commence in the back row, when holy pomposity gets uttered, let it wend its way forward from the aft, until y'all better be laughing your ***** off anyone who chooses to speak, must commence with words, "Did ya hear the one about" or be haunted by my spectral shadow tickling both feet at midnight, or, worse yet, reciting this awful poem in their head, like Henry the Eighth, I am, I am perhaps a hora dance might be nice, a mamba line, butts, holy rolling n'shaking, past rows of rock n' rolling tombstones, guitar-playing some Metallica, while the rabbi intones somberly, Let's get this party started, gad ****** if my untimely hour should arrive in July, I humbly request that flip flops be the ped-modality, if January should be my season of absence treasoned, use some reason, please stay home, and let the paid professionals suffer in fine phony, professional, seasonal frigidity at the post partum party, should that occur, I humbly repast request, barbecue be the cuisine, in the hopes you all recall to place a generous helping, repeat, generous helping, inside my sauce- proof pine wood casket, with extra napkins for the long trip ahead now these are all post hypnotic, post breathing, helpful suggestions, not requirements, but honor or disparage, cry or vent, curse or bless my perma-absence, don't matter to me, as long as somebody reads this manifesto at the festivities, first and last.

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Jun 3, 2013

Jun 3, 2013 at 11:44 PM UTC

How To Dress For My Funeral

How To Dress For My Funeral black or white, hot n'pink, lavender always a fav, at a fun funeral rave, lacy or plain, your choice, tho clean would be nice, won't matter to me very much, the color of your underwear. but do not fail to recall, the dead, their vision keen, can see all! funeral gravity rules to be strictly observed, snickering and giggling to commence in the back row, when holy pomposity gets uttered, let it wend its way forward from the aft, until y'all better be laughing your ***** off anyone who chooses to speak, must commence with words, "Did ya hear the one about" or be haunted by my spectral shadow tickling both feet at midnight, or, worse yet, reciting this awful poem in their head, like Henry the Eighth, I am, I am perhaps a hora dance might be nice, a mamba line, butts, holy rolling n'shaking, past rows of rock n' rolling tombstones, guitar-playing some Metallica, while the rabbi intones somberly, Let's get this party started, gad ****** if my untimely hour should arrive in July, I humbly request that flip flops be the ped-modality, if January should be my season of absence treasoned, use some reason, please stay home, and let the paid professionals suffer in fine phony, professional, seasonal frigidity at the post partum party, should that occur, I humbly repast request, barbecue be the cuisine, in the hopes you all recall to place a generous helping, repeat, generous helping, inside my sauce- proof pine wood casket, with extra napkins for the long trip ahead now these are all post hypnotic, post breathing, helpful suggestions, not requirements, but honor or disparage, cry or vent, curse or bless my perma-absence, don't matter to me, as long as somebody reads this manifesto at the festivities, first and last.

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A tyrant king, a Vandal’s scream Of moor & rock And fair I sing; Life’s to its Test, guer- don of unrest, &strife; believed! Milked out like utter red; lipids ****** hard at birth: semi- born: made three legion’s **** careful; cuz fate’s, Allectus, mean. Made in sheaths An aural memor- y lock, a- nswer ur calling; tricky to be bad &get; a- way w/it! Caraus- ius’s on guard duty; he’s in. Fog in chan- nel; no lights: Bware! Usurp- ing cou- ntry, mauling& killing men To ob- tain Power; @any risk in Britain. gold insignias! shine ur lite! greed can’t pay—poenas dat! Ascle- piod- otus hears: He, Allectus does a- way w/. Besei- ge in London—rime the trea- sure al- located; Vain he found, good. Crack souls’ ice; To ruin comes conceit, comes that rip- ped part. Ah, to p’wer& knifes Like wo- rds... P’wer slashes Carves, &impales;.

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Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC

A tyrant king, a Vandal’s scream Of moor & rock And fair I sing; Life’s to its Test, guer- don of unrest, &strife; believed! Milked out like utter red; lipids ****** hard at birth: semi- born: made three legion’s **** careful; cuz fate’s, Allectus, mean. Made in sheaths An aural memor- y lock, a- nswer ur calling; tricky to be bad &get; a- way w/it! Caraus- ius’s on guard duty; he’s in. Fog in chan- nel; no lights: Bware! Usurp- ing cou- ntry, mauling& killing men To ob- tain Power; @any risk in Britain. gold insignias! shine ur lite! greed can’t pay—poenas dat! Ascle- piod- otus hears: He, Allectus does a- way w/. Besei- ge in London—rime the trea- sure al- located; Vain he found, good. Crack souls’ ice; To ruin comes conceit, comes that rip- ped part. Ah, to p’wer& knifes Like wo- rds... P’wer slashes Carves, &impales;.

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I yelled at him until my lungs lost their air and my throat felt raw. Yes, he had wronged me, but somewhere deep inside, I knew I was screaming at the one hundred men standing in line behind him. He became the face and the voice of all the men I hate, the men who have shut me up, cut me off, pushed me down, run me over. He has begun to remind me of the angry man in my house, the man who r*ped me, wronged me, used me, left me. When I say that I hate him to his face, in some ways, I do. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I know I have been harboring and fueling a hatred that was left to fester by someone long before him.

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Jul 7, 2023

Jul 7, 2023 at 2:32 PM UTC

christianemarie

I yelled at him.

I yelled at him until my lungs lost their air and my throat felt raw. Yes, he had wronged me, but somewhere deep inside, I knew I was screaming at the one hundred men standing in line behind him. He became the face and the voice of all the men I hate, the men who have shut me up, cut me off, pushed me down, run me over. He has begun to remind me of the angry man in my house, the man who r*ped me, wronged me, used me, left me. When I say that I hate him to his face, in some ways, I do. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I know I have been harboring and fueling a hatred that was left to fester by someone long before him.

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Old beaten path, bent backward on its axis acting like a scientific textbook projection map. Becoming something impossible to traverse even for expert woodsmen or a genius of a certain variety that is imbued with Zoom Zoom PED's, just enough red wine, or some self appointed enlightenment that "never failed me before" Ignoring all traces of anxiety, disregarding inhibition, conquering every whim and mental roadblock desperately vying for success and representation as SOMEone instead of everyone else who writes in blue ink and drinks their coffee black and hides in plain sight and doesnt care what other people think and watches primetime reality television programs and believes in Jesus Christ and chews with their mouths closed and keeps their finges clean. The Path remains forever unbeaten how far we get along it is our legacy that no one ever gave a **** about until we wrote about it.

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Jan 23, 2014

Jan 23, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC

Old beaten path, bent backward on its axis acting like a scientific textbook projection map. Becoming something impossible to traverse even for expert woodsmen or a genius of a certain variety that is imbued with Zoom Zoom PED's, just enough red wine, or some self appointed enlightenment that "never failed me before" Ignoring all traces of anxiety, disregarding inhibition, conquering every whim and mental roadblock desperately vying for success and representation as SOMEone instead of everyone else who writes in blue ink and drinks their coffee black and hides in plain sight and doesnt care what other people think and watches primetime reality television programs and believes in Jesus Christ and chews with their mouths closed and keeps their finges clean. The Path remains forever unbeaten how far we get along it is our legacy that no one ever gave a **** about until we wrote about it.

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ed med head shed ped jed led dead bed ted qed yedi ved zed ied pled said sed wed yhed snnjsndderped bfjnskjnkjnknkfnodosjnfkjdnksfnned ned nnnsanjnskjgnweojfnoenofgnowenofjoshogowornfewiuogniwied ewkbveihqiuvehiwgihg13g4gkbkjfbsdkfbjhdbf87sy87ysded !#@REDFGV#JKUIL&(&^Y%TEWRFGFDHFJHKGUL)^+_)OZXC>ed IHAVEAPhD-ed wazup-ed imsmartererthanu-ed ifurreadingthisurweird-ed

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May 8, 2014

May 8, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC

docter-jedingaling-phd

superer ryming poem

ed med head shed ped jed led dead bed ted qed yedi ved zed ied pled said sed wed yhed snnjsndderped bfjnskjnkjnknkfnodosjnfkjdnksfnned ned nnnsanjnskjgnweojfnoenofgnowenofjoshogowornfewiuogniwied ewkbveihqiuvehiwgihg13g4gkbkjfbsdkfbjhdbf87sy87ysded !#@REDFGV#JKUIL&(&^Y%TEWRFGFDHFJHKGUL)^+_)OZXC>ed IHAVEAPhD-ed wazup-ed imsmartererthanu-ed ifurreadingthisurweird-ed

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Jun 15, 2015

Jun 15, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC

***** - whipped

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Zarathustra told me "be calm" And gently folded closed my eyes “There’s no depth to escape from There’s no eternal prize. Your wire was our bridge, dear son Above the raging current of man” No, wise one, say it isn't so Will I balance again Above the glistening, crystal waters? Please tell me that it doesn’t end! “Be calm, dear son, you’ve neither Lost nor won Your trials will soon be over” Why do you carry me into the night? Why am I in the trees? It’s cold here, friend! Don’t leave me here afraid, dark and lonely “Relax, and breathe,” he said to me “It’s begun to end" and raised me upward slowly I’m propped atop an arbor burial Like a dead-egg’s nest ready to die Before I realize to my horror As the bi-ped's shadow awkwardly trots off He was a stranger and my friend, Regardless, Zarathustra's just another guy!

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Aug 11, 2010

Aug 11, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC

sansara-justinovich

Der Seiltänzer

Zarathustra told me "be calm" And gently folded closed my eyes “There’s no depth to escape from There’s no eternal prize. Your wire was our bridge, dear son Above the raging current of man” No, wise one, say it isn't so Will I balance again Above the glistening, crystal waters? Please tell me that it doesn’t end! “Be calm, dear son, you’ve neither Lost nor won Your trials will soon be over” Why do you carry me into the night? Why am I in the trees? It’s cold here, friend! Don’t leave me here afraid, dark and lonely “Relax, and breathe,” he said to me “It’s begun to end" and raised me upward slowly I’m propped atop an arbor burial Like a dead-egg’s nest ready to die Before I realize to my horror As the bi-ped's shadow awkwardly trots off He was a stranger and my friend, Regardless, Zarathustra's just another guy!

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☆ silver tinsel wrap ped around the christmas tree in the living room and glass bau bles hanging from the branch es with white lights woven in be tween such a soothing sight to see as i start my early morning with some pepp ermint coffee and i just love these december days with the tree

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Dec 3, 2019

Dec 3, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC

concrete ☆ tree

☆ silver tinsel wrap ped around the christmas tree in the living room and glass bau bles hanging from the branch es with white lights woven in be tween such a soothing sight to see as i start my early morning with some pepp ermint coffee and i just love these december days with the tree

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The Packrat has morphed into a hoarder I tried to removed the monkey in a suite off his back and put it in he barrel with the rest of them even though it wasn't my business, although I was its uncle Get in A quaint little bungalow Where sweltering heat is a constant "There's coffee on the back burner, ya want some?" It was a blessing in disguise A bona fide slice of paradise We read up on the complex of Oedipus Rex and the debate of moral fiber when talking about Ped Xing We hopped on to a plane going to Pismo Beach and joined the mile high club then enjoyed clams on the half shell We listen to a dollar fifty nickelodeon And talked about how music is dead because everyone is just na na naing and yeah yeah yeahing their way to the top of the pop charts Over a *** pie I confessed my love His rebuttal seemed abysmal to my sleeve dwelling heart He said this was an unnatural habitat for him And if we were to be together it would raise eyebrows Tarnish his illustrious reputation It was an unanswered prayer After all the whatnots and whathaveyous He got sick and died of AIDS about a year and a half later He never came out Dodged a bullet there on that one

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Jun 27, 2014

Jun 27, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC

Easy Come, Easy Go (But Not Really)

The Packrat has morphed into a hoarder I tried to removed the monkey in a suite off his back and put it in he barrel with the rest of them even though it wasn't my business, although I was its uncle Get in A quaint little bungalow Where sweltering heat is a constant "There's coffee on the back burner, ya want some?" It was a blessing in disguise A bona fide slice of paradise We read up on the complex of Oedipus Rex and the debate of moral fiber when talking about Ped Xing We hopped on to a plane going to Pismo Beach and joined the mile high club then enjoyed clams on the half shell We listen to a dollar fifty nickelodeon And talked about how music is dead because everyone is just na na naing and yeah yeah yeahing their way to the top of the pop charts Over a *** pie I confessed my love His rebuttal seemed abysmal to my sleeve dwelling heart He said this was an unnatural habitat for him And if we were to be together it would raise eyebrows Tarnish his illustrious reputation It was an unanswered prayer After all the whatnots and whathaveyous He got sick and died of AIDS about a year and a half later He never came out Dodged a bullet there on that one

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The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian: Long-Winded I just learned the strangest word: An adjective ne’er seen or heard. Sesquipedalian. Sesqui-pedal-ian: Are we the aliens depicted? Is it us the word has painted? Latin for a foot plus half** Which makes me laugh. “Polysyllabic or long-winded”.** If there ever was a winding Longish ended word, it is sesquipedalian. You have to laugh At something that’s a ‘foot plus half’ That uses fourteen signs to say it. ‘Sesquipedalian names, or prose’ God only knows how long is wrong, And even, what is wrong with ‘long’! Eighteen inches, fourteen letters. Something in the letters fetters. Words are born from situations: Every nuance. each emotion. How they come about’s the question. Are we so observant, we, Disposed to live linguistically? I’ve no idea, But it sure is ****** funny. **18 inches or 45.72 centimeters. The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian 9.27.2020 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin sesquipedalian | ˌsɛskwɪpɪˈdeɪlɪən | adjective formal (of a word) polysyllabic; long: sesquipedalian surnames. • characterized by long words; long-winded: the sesquipedalian prose of scientific journals. ORIGIN mid 17th century: from Latin sesquipedalis ‘a foot and a half long’, from sesqui- (see sesqui-) + pes, ped- ‘foot’.

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Sep 27, 2020

Sep 27, 2020 at 6:56 AM UTC

The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian

The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian: Long-Winded I just learned the strangest word: An adjective ne’er seen or heard. Sesquipedalian. Sesqui-pedal-ian: Are we the aliens depicted? Is it us the word has painted? Latin for a foot plus half** Which makes me laugh. “Polysyllabic or long-winded”.** If there ever was a winding Longish ended word, it is sesquipedalian. You have to laugh At something that’s a ‘foot plus half’ That uses fourteen signs to say it. ‘Sesquipedalian names, or prose’ God only knows how long is wrong, And even, what is wrong with ‘long’! Eighteen inches, fourteen letters. Something in the letters fetters. Words are born from situations: Every nuance. each emotion. How they come about’s the question. Are we so observant, we, Disposed to live linguistically? I’ve no idea, But it sure is ****** funny. **18 inches or 45.72 centimeters. The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian 9.27.2020 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin sesquipedalian | ˌsɛskwɪpɪˈdeɪlɪən | adjective formal (of a word) polysyllabic; long: sesquipedalian surnames. • characterized by long words; long-winded: the sesquipedalian prose of scientific journals. ORIGIN mid 17th century: from Latin sesquipedalis ‘a foot and a half long’, from sesqui- (see sesqui-) + pes, ped- ‘foot’.

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I'm sitting here taking a **** Looky right at a roll of **** Well at least that's what it wipes off, I am bored as a car on Sunday that got hit in slow motion, By a mo-ped, Good god I am bored as **** THIS ISN'T EVEN A ******* POEM!

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Jun 12, 2016

Jun 12, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC

I'm sitting here taking a **** Looky right at a roll of **** Well at least that's what it wipes off, I am bored as a car on Sunday that got hit in slow motion, By a mo-ped, Good god I am bored as **** THIS ISN'T EVEN A ******* POEM!

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let's go back. to. the. start. Texts-and-Snaps late-night-talks can\we\start\over,..? reread Clementine andcrytogether,... how about a re//do? Before;...I overused_my_verbs and you would\\n't hear. me. anymore. I could turn-down-the-noise ...to a suit/ab/le level for us to continue ...ex》ploring each》 other I want {you} to be back whenall_ I couldhopefor ...was. your. lipPsSsss awake\every\night ...with °thou°ghts° of. your. kiss. _____Before my s/t/u/p/i/d ₩,...romanTIC...°°mind Caved>> every//thing//in But,..then;.... a__gain,... maybewewereneverreally meant;... to be ...JUst,... friends

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Dec 25, 2015

Dec 25, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC

let's go back. to. the. start. Texts-and-Snaps late-night-talks can\we\start\over,..? reread Clementine andcrytogether,... how about a re//do? Before;...I overused_my_verbs and you would\\n't hear. me. anymore. I could turn-down-the-noise ...to a suit/ab/le level for us to continue ...ex》ploring each》 other I want {you} to be back whenall_ I couldhopefor ...was. your. lipPsSsss awake\every\night ...with °thou°ghts° of. your. kiss. _____Before my s/t/u/p/i/d ₩,...romanTIC...°°mind Caved>> every//thing//in But,..then;.... a__gain,... maybewewereneverreally meant;... to be ...JUst,... friends

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Now M O V E Could not stand still U M J PED up THEN M O V E was OVER there.

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Aug 10, 2014

Aug 10, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC

W O R DS in MOVEment

Now M O V E Could not stand still U M J PED up THEN M O V E was OVER there.

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Squish down below the filmy line Eyes buckled, buttoned Snap ped in half to achieve a tepid calm is all

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Aug 16, 2011

Aug 16, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC

samuel-the-poet

Squish down below the filmy line Eyes buckled, buttoned Snap ped in half to achieve a tepid calm is all

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