"photocopying" poems - Hello Poetry

You’re wishing plus wanting to win the other side remove your pride, you untied tidal pool, the wide subdivide of these paper pages. Unrelenting numbers remind you of the next stages, taking you wildly to Namibia, surrendering you to Zimbabwe, the terminal station. The narration vocalizes the translation of quotations, your obligation to the violation of the rules, the regulations, vulgarization of spoken word. Pretty paintings plaster typecasts, the pitter-patter of pity’s pretty ****** quickly shifting refurbished velvet sofas. Overcast symphonies outlast witty recast stanzas, scores with notes naturally quote verses romancing seltzer spines noticing the negotiation of sore throats. Oblivion’s oblivious to the people, obnoxiously obscene with syncopated saturation of public vital signs. You’re the vain strain of virus photocopying yourself within skin, waste your sin on tattoos trapped on shins safety pins selecting prints pinning sets of twins to tanned wrappers protecting official reports. The ossuary welcomes records printed on thick paper suspiciously missing skeleton swords. Writing stories reversed while tipsy, quickly preforming risky poetry smog, sweetly omitting secret words, trying to spell simply without the proper prologue.

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Feb 17, 2013

Feb 17, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC

juliana

Tuesday

You’re wishing plus wanting to win the other side remove your pride, you untied tidal pool, the wide subdivide of these paper pages. Unrelenting numbers remind you of the next stages, taking you wildly to Namibia, surrendering you to Zimbabwe, the terminal station. The narration vocalizes the translation of quotations, your obligation to the violation of the rules, the regulations, vulgarization of spoken word. Pretty paintings plaster typecasts, the pitter-patter of pity’s pretty ****** quickly shifting refurbished velvet sofas. Overcast symphonies outlast witty recast stanzas, scores with notes naturally quote verses romancing seltzer spines noticing the negotiation of sore throats. Oblivion’s oblivious to the people, obnoxiously obscene with syncopated saturation of public vital signs. You’re the vain strain of virus photocopying yourself within skin, waste your sin on tattoos trapped on shins safety pins selecting prints pinning sets of twins to tanned wrappers protecting official reports. The ossuary welcomes records printed on thick paper suspiciously missing skeleton swords. Writing stories reversed while tipsy, quickly preforming risky poetry smog, sweetly omitting secret words, trying to spell simply without the proper prologue.

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I'm Photocopying my sole to show you my carbon footprint.

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Jun 6, 2013

Jun 6, 2013 at 1:29 PM UTC

dieingembers

Imprints. 10w

I'm Photocopying my sole to show you my carbon footprint.

5

Chaucer and the Lightendyten 1 “The Prologue” to The Canterbury Tales Grinds from the photocopying machine And thus the casual observer, he wails That technology produces the scene And yet good Chaucer wrote in the long ago Rhymed rhythms to instruct and to delight The copier came later, as you know - Our pilgrim was the first these tales to write Or was he? So here is a problem, which I you begge: Of which came first, the cicen or the egge? 1 There was of course no Middle English word for “photocopier” so I cobbled one together from “lighte,” to give light, and “endyte,” to write. Chaucer said it was okay.

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Jan 15, 2019

Jan 15, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

Chaucer and the Middle English Photocopier

Chaucer and the Lightendyten 1 “The Prologue” to The Canterbury Tales Grinds from the photocopying machine And thus the casual observer, he wails That technology produces the scene And yet good Chaucer wrote in the long ago Rhymed rhythms to instruct and to delight The copier came later, as you know - Our pilgrim was the first these tales to write Or was he? So here is a problem, which I you begge: Of which came first, the cicen or the egge? 1 There was of course no Middle English word for “photocopier” so I cobbled one together from “lighte,” to give light, and “endyte,” to write. Chaucer said it was okay.

13

Life is a four letter word powerful enough to change the whole world🌍 It's plenty of surprises that cannot be seen nor heard.. It can only be lived, till we meet what we were born for.. death And we leave with the memories left.. How to live? Who to believe? Life is a moment, And for you it was meant.. What's right for them can be wrong for you, Cause only you know what you go through...no matter their point of view.. Don't let life be just another word among many in a simple dictionary.. Live it the way nobody else ever did.. Impossible? More than 7 billion people, And god is still creating instead of just photocopying.. Then why be a photocopy? Only you know how to live.. Life never deceives.. Be who you wanna be, See life the way you wanna see.. Cause YOUR life has never been lived before.. Let them all out and close the door🚪 There's a specific reason why god chose to put only one specific soul in a specific body, So that you're free to make your own choices.. Why listen to those voices? Living a life already lived contains too much expectations.. You are one in billions.. What is life? Lying on your death bed, With millions of memories in your head, As your vision fades away, As time ticks life away.. You will find out that you've lived it's definition all life long🌼 -Sharvish®

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Apr 28, 2021

Apr 28, 2021 at 5:57 PM UTC

sharvish-cheekhoory

Life

Life is a four letter word powerful enough to change the whole world🌍 It's plenty of surprises that cannot be seen nor heard.. It can only be lived, till we meet what we were born for.. death And we leave with the memories left.. How to live? Who to believe? Life is a moment, And for you it was meant.. What's right for them can be wrong for you, Cause only you know what you go through...no matter their point of view.. Don't let life be just another word among many in a simple dictionary.. Live it the way nobody else ever did.. Impossible? More than 7 billion people, And god is still creating instead of just photocopying.. Then why be a photocopy? Only you know how to live.. Life never deceives.. Be who you wanna be, See life the way you wanna see.. Cause YOUR life has never been lived before.. Let them all out and close the door🚪 There's a specific reason why god chose to put only one specific soul in a specific body, So that you're free to make your own choices.. Why listen to those voices? Living a life already lived contains too much expectations.. You are one in billions.. What is life? Lying on your death bed, With millions of memories in your head, As your vision fades away, As time ticks life away.. You will find out that you've lived it's definition all life long🌼 -Sharvish®

36

Come with me, what are you afraid of…? The dark? Don't worry, I'll lead you to the brightest garden on earth. Where nothing hurts, and light predominates our dreams. I'll help you feel the rings I wear on my fingers, one by one. Maybe you should kiss me, take me far away, and I assure you I won't come back, not without you. What should I do? Spend another sleepless night, wondering about the taste of your lips? Or just remembering them on my cheek, I'm tired of photocopying each day upon the last one. So come with me, what are you afraid of? Drag me down a hill again, hold me in your arms again. Come with me. We'll go buy a box of pastels, so that our spring can look younger. So that you can rip a page a draw us instead. Content, on a hill. Near a forest, one step away from our glory, gardening.

0

Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC

andrea-rizzo

On gardening.

Come with me, what are you afraid of…? The dark? Don't worry, I'll lead you to the brightest garden on earth. Where nothing hurts, and light predominates our dreams. I'll help you feel the rings I wear on my fingers, one by one. Maybe you should kiss me, take me far away, and I assure you I won't come back, not without you. What should I do? Spend another sleepless night, wondering about the taste of your lips? Or just remembering them on my cheek, I'm tired of photocopying each day upon the last one. So come with me, what are you afraid of? Drag me down a hill again, hold me in your arms again. Come with me. We'll go buy a box of pastels, so that our spring can look younger. So that you can rip a page a draw us instead. Content, on a hill. Near a forest, one step away from our glory, gardening.

36