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"pineapple" poems
oh honey **** pen and ink **** star warrior pretty little manga girl twinkle wisp with kung fu throwing stars and triple steel samurai sword that tear through others made of pink taffy and cherry juice fizz blood moving like lightening a flying gladiator with dripping sweet rice and tapioca milk shake ******* oh you would taste so good to drink out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl with big blow job star goldfish and hungry pink ***** lips octopus drooling sit on your face suckers oh, fighter of one-legged midgets the best part after a fresh **** victory **** to go down on them their loli pop ***** butter ***** beautiful springing through the top of your skull cause you can't get enough oh wow happy hello kitty ***** plump plops viscous before the coup de grâce as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards with her little swizzle tongue goo ga licious before placing what's left of their hose like glistening entrails around her throat like a pearl necklace only to get strangled with it by double **** UFO boy solar ******* hero of the universe so hard she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts out of pucker pie **** **** banged cross eyed like little girl manga never felt so good addicted to cruel whipped with a hella wet noodle yes no yes no yes no yes pleazzz her big blue marble glass eyes binocular kaleidoscopes spring out on the floor and roll around turning into all seeing anti-gravity magnetized silver pin stripped spaceships peopled by evil omni ****** **** ***** screaming through eternity in search of cosmic tushi sushi ogling wiggling ballerina butts bubble gum for the eyeballs
0
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
zebrablack
**** MANGA POETRY
oh honey **** pen and ink **** star warrior pretty little manga girl twinkle wisp with kung fu throwing stars and triple steel samurai sword that tear through others made of pink taffy and cherry juice fizz blood moving like lightening a flying gladiator with dripping sweet rice and tapioca milk shake ******* oh you would taste so good to drink out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl with big blow job star goldfish and hungry pink ***** lips octopus drooling sit on your face suckers oh, fighter of one-legged midgets the best part after a fresh **** victory **** to go down on them their loli pop ***** butter ***** beautiful springing through the top of your skull cause you can't get enough oh wow happy hello kitty ***** plump plops viscous before the coup de grâce as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards with her little swizzle tongue goo ga licious before placing what's left of their hose like glistening entrails around her throat like a pearl necklace only to get strangled with it by double **** UFO boy solar ******* hero of the universe so hard she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts out of pucker pie **** **** banged cross eyed like little girl manga never felt so good addicted to cruel whipped with a hella wet noodle yes no yes no yes no yes pleazzz her big blue marble glass eyes binocular kaleidoscopes spring out on the floor and roll around turning into all seeing anti-gravity magnetized silver pin stripped spaceships peopled by evil omni ****** **** ***** screaming through eternity in search of cosmic tushi sushi ogling wiggling ballerina butts bubble gum for the eyeballs
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65
breathing the turquoise like lavender, and sipping the blue summer. bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather, floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine. soon, a moment, now rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones we jump the music like puddles splashing in the frequencies. cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry, pumps the air with springing spirals pushing and pulling the senses, reverberating through cells. heavy mud humming, stomping echoes through our atoms dizzy; balancing tuned body to innate electricity the fizz of circulating lemonade energy. we jump the music like puddles splashing in the frequencies. strawberry melodies spilling ribbons, dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats, lines of colours overlapping, colliding, mixing, merging, blending in with the forest. washing over souls the life fire sparkles like a clear water cleansing harmonies, sound waves crashing against inertia. phosphorescent glow of re-charged love for the world, for being, animation flowing through burnt smoky ashes of sapphire charcoal skies; dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days. the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists, trembling lights softening the eyes' grip on outlines, loosening lies. watching the cycles of patterns tumbling colours through a mill rotating, and the silence of listening when the music comes to an end.
0
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
victoria-rachael-nash
Synesthesia
breathing the turquoise like lavender, and sipping the blue summer. bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather, floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine. soon, a moment, now rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones we jump the music like puddles splashing in the frequencies. cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry, pumps the air with springing spirals pushing and pulling the senses, reverberating through cells. heavy mud humming, stomping echoes through our atoms dizzy; balancing tuned body to innate electricity the fizz of circulating lemonade energy. we jump the music like puddles splashing in the frequencies. strawberry melodies spilling ribbons, dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats, lines of colours overlapping, colliding, mixing, merging, blending in with the forest. washing over souls the life fire sparkles like a clear water cleansing harmonies, sound waves crashing against inertia. phosphorescent glow of re-charged love for the world, for being, animation flowing through burnt smoky ashes of sapphire charcoal skies; dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days. the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists, trembling lights softening the eyes' grip on outlines, loosening lies. watching the cycles of patterns tumbling colours through a mill rotating, and the silence of listening when the music comes to an end.
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38
Minnehaha Park is hot in the summer Even by the water Who knew it would be so hot Even down by the water? But all of it is hot And there are acorns everywhere Scattered on the ground Below our butts as we try to sit And have a little picnic On a brightly checkered blanket Between two tall trees That tower above us And grant us shade While pelting acorns down Into our cheese and crackers And fancy rosé wine Whatever that means I thought wine was wine But I guess they have personalities Like people Like couples Some things pair well together Like my crisp pineapple and cheap fuckin' pizza Or your stinky blue cheese and weird cookie-like ******* Like us And the cheese sits on a green marble slab Elegant as **** Because that's just who you are But that marble slab sits on top of a pizza box Simple as **** Because that's just who I am And we pair well On this hot *** summer day While we drink rosé And "I love you" is all we say Because sometimes we don't have to say anything We're okay without words In the middle of a park On a hot *** summer day
0
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC
SerenePineapple
Minnehaha Park
Minnehaha Park is hot in the summer Even by the water Who knew it would be so hot Even down by the water? But all of it is hot And there are acorns everywhere Scattered on the ground Below our butts as we try to sit And have a little picnic On a brightly checkered blanket Between two tall trees That tower above us And grant us shade While pelting acorns down Into our cheese and crackers And fancy rosé wine Whatever that means I thought wine was wine But I guess they have personalities Like people Like couples Some things pair well together Like my crisp pineapple and cheap fuckin' pizza Or your stinky blue cheese and weird cookie-like ******* Like us And the cheese sits on a green marble slab Elegant as **** Because that's just who you are But that marble slab sits on top of a pizza box Simple as **** Because that's just who I am And we pair well On this hot *** summer day While we drink rosé And "I love you" is all we say Because sometimes we don't have to say anything We're okay without words In the middle of a park On a hot *** summer day
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39
3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin) Something's wrong... you don't belong here. I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza. I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni. I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf. He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public. Like I'm a creep.  I'm a ****** What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table. When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates. Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion. After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu. So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places.   Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers.   They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates.   They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings.   They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix.   They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet.   They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies,  if you know what I mean. In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant.   They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes! I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast.   And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks.   I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great!   I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay. ... except for anchovies, of course.
0
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC
PseudoPoet
Pineapple Pizza
3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin) Something's wrong... you don't belong here. I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza. I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni. I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf. He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public. Like I'm a creep.  I'm a ****** What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table. When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates. Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion. After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu. So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places.   Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers.   They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates.   They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings.   They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix.   They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet.   They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies,  if you know what I mean. In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant.   They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes! I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast.   And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks.   I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great!   I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay. ... except for anchovies, of course.
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26
Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch. Tilting with the winds, On arrowy stems, Pineapple-barked, A green crescent of palms Sends up its forked Firework of fronds. A quartz-clear dawn Inch by bright inch Gilds all our Avenue, And out of the blue drench Of Angels' Bay Rises the round red watermelon sun.
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9.9k
Sylvia Plath
Southern Sunrise
Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch. Tilting with the winds, On arrowy stems, Pineapple-barked, A green crescent of palms Sends up its forked Firework of fronds. A quartz-clear dawn Inch by bright inch Gilds all our Avenue, And out of the blue drench Of Angels' Bay Rises the round red watermelon sun.
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18
knock that pizza right out of my brain get that pizza taste out of my mouth exercise that pizza right out of my brain any way you want you see the fat content just makes you fat makes you feel like a big fat cat i have to get that pizza taste right out of my brain with good old exercise and diet you see i have to knock the pizza taste right out of my brain doing sit-ups and sit to stands and training to be as fit as i can be and pizza holds me back you see pepperoni isn't what i want and sugar filled pineapple is nice but i don't want it i just knock that pizza taste right out of my brain with good old exercise every time i think of pizza i do exercise and i pump it up so i don't feel like it again i need to rock that pizza right out of my brain and tell it to **** off i know cheese can be healthy but not on pizza just a little bit just enough for your calcium now smothering your pizza really melting away just think of good old exercise burning fat is better than melting cheese any way or any old how i have to knock that pizza right out of my brain and say to it please **** off
0
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
johnny-georgy-brown
i gotta stop pizza crowding my brain with good old exercise
knock that pizza right out of my brain get that pizza taste out of my mouth exercise that pizza right out of my brain any way you want you see the fat content just makes you fat makes you feel like a big fat cat i have to get that pizza taste right out of my brain with good old exercise and diet you see i have to knock the pizza taste right out of my brain doing sit-ups and sit to stands and training to be as fit as i can be and pizza holds me back you see pepperoni isn't what i want and sugar filled pineapple is nice but i don't want it i just knock that pizza taste right out of my brain with good old exercise every time i think of pizza i do exercise and i pump it up so i don't feel like it again i need to rock that pizza right out of my brain and tell it to **** off i know cheese can be healthy but not on pizza just a little bit just enough for your calcium now smothering your pizza really melting away just think of good old exercise burning fat is better than melting cheese any way or any old how i have to knock that pizza right out of my brain and say to it please **** off
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28
We know you, and your little dark colors too. A picture book in your purse penned in mustaches on the full faces of your fare. We call you from bed, 8 o' clock in the morning, dog-light you slow wander the Peruvian darkness making jellyfish tentacles with your hands while you feel your way through Salem. We're colder than night and we wake thrice the bits of your day gig. You collapse in a green field of dandelion where thrushes drown you in Brown. We gorge ourselves on mango slivers, pineapple yolks, a half of grapefruit. We know you are close to your end. On the tops of the cities you call to your lycan friends, the half-sick and muted bray allures them to you, from Bratislava and Mimon, the thoroughfare through the suq. We wait. The foregone untold, the beep beep jug jug swoop sound of the nightingale, in all her dun glory, we wait. Then, as if descending through the moor-lounging silver smoke, the cool stickiness to your fingertips; the fog. We are there when the blue-less and smoky screen surrounds you, when you shank the auburn Scot hair of the sly fox that stalks, say, a cigarette from your lips. When you take the corners swiftly, gadding the streets. The prize king of vulpicide. You rub its matte fur against your bristly gray beard. And while you lay in your lumps of twelve carat flesh you bleat and you nag. One day you will never come home.
0
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
martin-narrod
Johnny 3:16
We know you, and your little dark colors too. A picture book in your purse penned in mustaches on the full faces of your fare. We call you from bed, 8 o' clock in the morning, dog-light you slow wander the Peruvian darkness making jellyfish tentacles with your hands while you feel your way through Salem. We're colder than night and we wake thrice the bits of your day gig. You collapse in a green field of dandelion where thrushes drown you in Brown. We gorge ourselves on mango slivers, pineapple yolks, a half of grapefruit. We know you are close to your end. On the tops of the cities you call to your lycan friends, the half-sick and muted bray allures them to you, from Bratislava and Mimon, the thoroughfare through the suq. We wait. The foregone untold, the beep beep jug jug swoop sound of the nightingale, in all her dun glory, we wait. Then, as if descending through the moor-lounging silver smoke, the cool stickiness to your fingertips; the fog. We are there when the blue-less and smoky screen surrounds you, when you shank the auburn Scot hair of the sly fox that stalks, say, a cigarette from your lips. When you take the corners swiftly, gadding the streets. The prize king of vulpicide. You rub its matte fur against your bristly gray beard. And while you lay in your lumps of twelve carat flesh you bleat and you nag. One day you will never come home.
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3
study, cram, call, make plans... power point, presentation, speech, rewrite... theory, materialism and idealism and the difference, Marx, Freud to psychoanalyze... on to polynomials, linear equations, I make a scientific notation... take a break. (eat) ham sweet and thick with lots of pineapple and some cherries potato bread and cheese PowerAde to rehydrate little vodca with o.j. and cigarette after lunch, breathe . and it’s back to study lab to mentally beat meat. paper due, final today, did I remember to triple check and get rid of paper clips, include a cover sheet... ready to evaluate... I think. ready to second guess, miss dates and time, "you're late" again... 95, 98, 3.5 GPA? pre-test, for final, make sure your research is done, site, source, quote, student rate and double space power nap, smoke again, is the day over yet?..
0
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
undefined
first half of today
study, cram, call, make plans... power point, presentation, speech, rewrite... theory, materialism and idealism and the difference, Marx, Freud to psychoanalyze... on to polynomials, linear equations, I make a scientific notation... take a break. (eat) ham sweet and thick with lots of pineapple and some cherries potato bread and cheese PowerAde to rehydrate little vodca with o.j. and cigarette after lunch, breathe . and it’s back to study lab to mentally beat meat. paper due, final today, did I remember to triple check and get rid of paper clips, include a cover sheet... ready to evaluate... I think. ready to second guess, miss dates and time, "you're late" again... 95, 98, 3.5 GPA? pre-test, for final, make sure your research is done, site, source, quote, student rate and double space power nap, smoke again, is the day over yet?..
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22
raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling pineapple sweat, ******* neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse
0
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
armonparty
normal ***
raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling pineapple sweat, ******* neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse
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5
Wistful lust and melancholy mangoes Succulent decadence and still I am morose A plum for pining, a kiwi for whining Pineapple dreams are the clouds’ only lining For in the resting realm the reality is nigh Alas cruel consciousness eradicates the high And thrown am I back into awareness That life and love are not games of fairness
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Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 4:01 PM UTC
norah-dimarini-1
Pineapple Dreams
Wistful lust and melancholy mangoes Succulent decadence and still I am morose A plum for pining, a kiwi for whining Pineapple dreams are the clouds’ only lining For in the resting realm the reality is nigh Alas cruel consciousness eradicates the high And thrown am I back into awareness That life and love are not games of fairness
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8
-Until We Meet Again- Pele has lost one of her lovers. I miss the goddess in all her majesty; Her deep blue oceans, sweet sandy beaches, Her dark black hair billowing down like the lava from the peaks of Her highest volcanoes. Her seven sacred pools, each one cascading gracefully into the next, all finally spilling into her magnificent sea. Her gorgeous body will forever entice my mind, with hair dark and beautiful, inhaling the scent of fresh pineapple and coconut, a hibiscus flower pinning back strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes, they were just as deep and amazing as the sea, something with which they were so familiar. With lips red and lined with Hawaiian love songs sung just for you, tasting as fresh and young as the ocean itself. Her body was adorned with fresh tropical flower leis and Kukui beads falling gracefully over ancient Hawaiian dress; all made from the same grass and leaves coming from the islands many trees. All encircling those perfect hips, born to Hula and sway to any island rhythm, be it the slow and steady rattle of the Uli Uli, or the fast and powerful beat of the Pahu drum. Finally pushed over the edge by the sight of her long tan legs, not shy to the suns warmth and fiery grasp, ending in bare feet more familiar to the islands then we’ll ever be. I miss her and all her islands. Oh, how I miss the island paradise Hawaii.
0
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
j-lohr
A Hui Hou Kākou
-Until We Meet Again- Pele has lost one of her lovers. I miss the goddess in all her majesty; Her deep blue oceans, sweet sandy beaches, Her dark black hair billowing down like the lava from the peaks of Her highest volcanoes. Her seven sacred pools, each one cascading gracefully into the next, all finally spilling into her magnificent sea. Her gorgeous body will forever entice my mind, with hair dark and beautiful, inhaling the scent of fresh pineapple and coconut, a hibiscus flower pinning back strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes, they were just as deep and amazing as the sea, something with which they were so familiar. With lips red and lined with Hawaiian love songs sung just for you, tasting as fresh and young as the ocean itself. Her body was adorned with fresh tropical flower leis and Kukui beads falling gracefully over ancient Hawaiian dress; all made from the same grass and leaves coming from the islands many trees. All encircling those perfect hips, born to Hula and sway to any island rhythm, be it the slow and steady rattle of the Uli Uli, or the fast and powerful beat of the Pahu drum. Finally pushed over the edge by the sight of her long tan legs, not shy to the suns warmth and fiery grasp, ending in bare feet more familiar to the islands then we’ll ever be. I miss her and all her islands. Oh, how I miss the island paradise Hawaii.
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12
Jackal in his church pants, Bad kid with punk jams, Cramming nonsense in his conscience, Skateboarding prophets, Dividing light into chambers, Bag of **** for his neighbors, Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper, Applesauce in the inside, A coconut shell for the front, Pineapple knives for the slaughtering, Right into a strawberry's gut, He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth, But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons, Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin, And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,
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Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
dallas-phoenix
Kaleidoscopic Turkey ****
Jackal in his church pants, Bad kid with punk jams, Cramming nonsense in his conscience, Skateboarding prophets, Dividing light into chambers, Bag of **** for his neighbors, Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper, Applesauce in the inside, A coconut shell for the front, Pineapple knives for the slaughtering, Right into a strawberry's gut, He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth, But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons, Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin, And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,
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15
She gave me pineapple kisses her smile was sweeter than sunshine I wish I could make her mine but she slipped away through a different strand of time I've heard Pineapples taste of summertime A humid sticky night, lovers delight but the texture I couldn't bear so eat the fruit I wouldn't dare then my world changed when I met a beauty so rare With hair like dark chocolate and eyes like the sky Her laughter like a familiar song She gave me pineapple kisses her smile was sweeter than sunshine I should have made her mine before she slipped away through a different strand of time
0
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
peter-pan
Pineapple kisses
She gave me pineapple kisses her smile was sweeter than sunshine I wish I could make her mine but she slipped away through a different strand of time I've heard Pineapples taste of summertime A humid sticky night, lovers delight but the texture I couldn't bear so eat the fruit I wouldn't dare then my world changed when I met a beauty so rare With hair like dark chocolate and eyes like the sky Her laughter like a familiar song She gave me pineapple kisses her smile was sweeter than sunshine I should have made her mine before she slipped away through a different strand of time
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17
The sweet pineapple I can taste upon her tongue Not as sweet as what's below
0
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
longhornmimi
Pineapple
The sweet pineapple I can taste upon her tongue Not as sweet as what's below
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3
(the city had fought the fortnight before) fire burned through the little skirts and plastic lunch boxes carrying the nourishment of our future doctors and worldshakers—                                  Future tax paying Americans And beacon of the nation. Wide awake, in the thoughts of a light bulb, (Where sidewalk stairs politic with the devil,) A raindrop fell and whispered to the asphalt, “Tell me what you know about happiness…” And somewhere, in the middle of a pineapple parade, A Pepsi can smiled and danced the night away with Nyquil labels.
0
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
ugochukwu-charles-onyewuchi
How to fit a 1000 suns in a napkin
(the city had fought the fortnight before) fire burned through the little skirts and plastic lunch boxes carrying the nourishment of our future doctors and worldshakers—                                  Future tax paying Americans And beacon of the nation. Wide awake, in the thoughts of a light bulb, (Where sidewalk stairs politic with the devil,) A raindrop fell and whispered to the asphalt, “Tell me what you know about happiness…” And somewhere, in the middle of a pineapple parade, A Pepsi can smiled and danced the night away with Nyquil labels.
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14
Tuesday night and it’s Baked Beans AGAIN! Does she ever stop talking. I used to fool myself that her snore was musical like a sweet sounding flute, Now it’s just a snore. Too loud, all too familiar. What would happen I wonder if I took that tin of Baked Beans on the table And battered her to death with it. They found the ****** weapon in the cupboard on the top shelf, Next to a quivering can of rice pudding. It didn’t look overly angry or guilty, it looked (for what it’s worth) Like any other tin of beans. However it had blood and hair around the rim. “BAKED BEANS **** the front page of The Sun would say, Amnesty on all tinned goods called for, as the masses Started taking ‘tin(g)s” into their own hands. All over the country, partners dying at the hands of Heinz, Or possibly cans of spam or pear slices. The Army may catch on, a major new part of SAS training, Close quarter baked bean tactics. The wail of sirens as Police arrive at an incident “Put down the weapon or we shall be forced to fire… tinned pineapple”. A can of alphabetti spaghetti could spell death. “Let’s not have Baked Beans tonight my love… Chinese?”
0
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 5:09 AM UTC
fred-wakefield
BAKED BEANS ****
Tuesday night and it’s Baked Beans AGAIN! Does she ever stop talking. I used to fool myself that her snore was musical like a sweet sounding flute, Now it’s just a snore. Too loud, all too familiar. What would happen I wonder if I took that tin of Baked Beans on the table And battered her to death with it. They found the ****** weapon in the cupboard on the top shelf, Next to a quivering can of rice pudding. It didn’t look overly angry or guilty, it looked (for what it’s worth) Like any other tin of beans. However it had blood and hair around the rim. “BAKED BEANS **** the front page of The Sun would say, Amnesty on all tinned goods called for, as the masses Started taking ‘tin(g)s” into their own hands. All over the country, partners dying at the hands of Heinz, Or possibly cans of spam or pear slices. The Army may catch on, a major new part of SAS training, Close quarter baked bean tactics. The wail of sirens as Police arrive at an incident “Put down the weapon or we shall be forced to fire… tinned pineapple”. A can of alphabetti spaghetti could spell death. “Let’s not have Baked Beans tonight my love… Chinese?”
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21
I have a bad case of the munchies Should have took a right Maybe the next exit on this stoner highway Will lead to munchville This 1991 Chevy S10 is Casa de marijuana Stoners only ride 6 oz of berry white 2 oz of bubba kush 3 1/2 gs of Pineapple Express I'm ****** Yet I've only had 4 bowls 2 extendo blunts And 1 braided joint Lost my touch Hold on Let me get right Alright I'm not even high Lets smoke another bowl I'm ready to **** it up all night Smoke out the western hemisphere I'm a stoner Staying ****** in ******* Mexico So roll you a blunt Pack a bowl **** up the night Get ******* ******
0
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
robert-guerrero
******
I have a bad case of the munchies Should have took a right Maybe the next exit on this stoner highway Will lead to munchville This 1991 Chevy S10 is Casa de marijuana Stoners only ride 6 oz of berry white 2 oz of bubba kush 3 1/2 gs of Pineapple Express I'm ****** Yet I've only had 4 bowls 2 extendo blunts And 1 braided joint Lost my touch Hold on Let me get right Alright I'm not even high Lets smoke another bowl I'm ready to **** it up all night Smoke out the western hemisphere I'm a stoner Staying ****** in ******* Mexico So roll you a blunt Pack a bowl **** up the night Get ******* ******
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25
Hot chestnuts warming in their skin Wild cherries for the brandy and sloes for the gin Bramley apples and blackberries stewing together Halls decked with bouquets of dried heather. Deep dark red petals from the English rose Pineapple mint food where the rosemary grows. Oranges and lemons added for extra taste Walnuts for the cake and almonds for the paste. October’s pumpkins glowing bright Apples dripping with toffee for bonfire night. But waiting for the polished conkers to fall Makes autumn the best season of them all.
0
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
cheryl-love
The Taste Of Autumn
Hot chestnuts warming in their skin Wild cherries for the brandy and sloes for the gin Bramley apples and blackberries stewing together Halls decked with bouquets of dried heather. Deep dark red petals from the English rose Pineapple mint food where the rosemary grows. Oranges and lemons added for extra taste Walnuts for the cake and almonds for the paste. October’s pumpkins glowing bright Apples dripping with toffee for bonfire night. But waiting for the polished conkers to fall Makes autumn the best season of them all.
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12
Every time we speak I feel like things are looking up, no matter what we speak of, a residual glow is left behind, pineapple cake and birthday wishes; perhaps we can move to new york after all. Perhaps this will not be forever. Drawing lessons and 1 am photos are what is keeping me alive right now, a protective world to shield me from the sandpaper reality And I hope to god that when I call you at midnight you feel the same.
0
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
miriamblaylock
Pineapple Cake
Every time we speak I feel like things are looking up, no matter what we speak of, a residual glow is left behind, pineapple cake and birthday wishes; perhaps we can move to new york after all. Perhaps this will not be forever. Drawing lessons and 1 am photos are what is keeping me alive right now, a protective world to shield me from the sandpaper reality And I hope to god that when I call you at midnight you feel the same.
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11
Paltry people project putrid opinions, propelled from puny pinpoint brains, in their pint-sized prickly pineapple pulp heads. If they stopped and stayed silent, stood still and listened, stuff some significant people said would seep in, and seem simply superb when seen with acceptance and socially sensitive skills
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Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 8:14 AM UTC
martin-trahbeg
Prejudice
Paltry people project putrid opinions, propelled from puny pinpoint brains, in their pint-sized prickly pineapple pulp heads. If they stopped and stayed silent, stood still and listened, stuff some significant people said would seep in, and seem simply superb when seen with acceptance and socially sensitive skills
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2
Dear you, I want you to come closer Although I try to push you away I am awkward And the awkwardness only keeps growing The more I have, the more you loose But the more you have, the more I get The equation is complicated I don’t expect you to understand After all You never understood me either. I am there Beside you and behind you All you have to do is turn turn stealthily enough So I don’t have time to run I told you I am awkward And the awkwardness only grows I slouch, I ******* I squeak just like your bedroom door I creak unopened for centuries Unheard for decades Unseen for years Not because I’m weak but because I am awkward And the awkwardness only grows i live in a pineapple under the sea or you could say I hide Hide from you, hide from me Hide from the rest of the  reality but I am always there I always will For I have to be Don’t acknowledge me Validation is not my need But don’t forget me either For I have this hidden greed Never leave your own side I need to follow Never  leave my side either But know To me, Ignorance is a bliss For I am awkward And the awkwardness only grows
0
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 1:43 AM UTC
ojaswee11
Awkward
Dear you, I want you to come closer Although I try to push you away I am awkward And the awkwardness only keeps growing The more I have, the more you loose But the more you have, the more I get The equation is complicated I don’t expect you to understand After all You never understood me either. I am there Beside you and behind you All you have to do is turn turn stealthily enough So I don’t have time to run I told you I am awkward And the awkwardness only grows I slouch, I ******* I squeak just like your bedroom door I creak unopened for centuries Unheard for decades Unseen for years Not because I’m weak but because I am awkward And the awkwardness only grows i live in a pineapple under the sea or you could say I hide Hide from you, hide from me Hide from the rest of the  reality but I am always there I always will For I have to be Don’t acknowledge me Validation is not my need But don’t forget me either For I have this hidden greed Never leave your own side I need to follow Never  leave my side either But know To me, Ignorance is a bliss For I am awkward And the awkwardness only grows
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46
Math Numbers The only things everyone And everything have in common You can find mathematical proofs written In between the stars Numerical sequences hiding beneath a fern That unfurls to reach the heavens No one can deny, one will always equal one And the sum of two numbers will never change Truths remain truths no matter the language I can't see how my friends can say 'I hate math' Or how people say 'numbers are stupid' Numbers and math comprise the essence of life On another planet the number pi and Sierpinski's triangle may have different names But their rules remain the same Math and numbers make up geometry Which is full of tesselations, and fractals And beautiful diagrams and principles How can you not love something like the Golden Ratio, or the Fibonacci sequence? They provide the curl of a fern, the twist of A snail's shell, the spiral of a pineapple And rotation of axial leaves Such a beautiful, never changing system That appears in so so many forms Why be bored when you can play with fractal-y Tesselating doodles? And don't even get me started on science...
0
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 3:03 PM UTC
luckyqueue
math and numbers
Math Numbers The only things everyone And everything have in common You can find mathematical proofs written In between the stars Numerical sequences hiding beneath a fern That unfurls to reach the heavens No one can deny, one will always equal one And the sum of two numbers will never change Truths remain truths no matter the language I can't see how my friends can say 'I hate math' Or how people say 'numbers are stupid' Numbers and math comprise the essence of life On another planet the number pi and Sierpinski's triangle may have different names But their rules remain the same Math and numbers make up geometry Which is full of tesselations, and fractals And beautiful diagrams and principles How can you not love something like the Golden Ratio, or the Fibonacci sequence? They provide the curl of a fern, the twist of A snail's shell, the spiral of a pineapple And rotation of axial leaves Such a beautiful, never changing system That appears in so so many forms Why be bored when you can play with fractal-y Tesselating doodles? And don't even get me started on science...
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30
I had some baked beans And some canned pineapple too Turns out fiber And vitamin c Is good for you
0
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
MattG
Beans & Pineapple
I had some baked beans And some canned pineapple too Turns out fiber And vitamin c Is good for you
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5
A sunny day's complete Poussiniana Divide it from itself. It is this or that And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit, A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue, To be served by men of ice. The senses paint By metaphor. The juice was fragranter Than wettest cinnamon. It was cribled pears Dripping a morning sap. The truth must be That you do not see, you experience, you feel, That the buxom eye brings merely its element To the total thing, a shapeless giant forced Upward. Green were the curls upon that head.
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4.4k
Wallace Stevens
Poem Written At Morning
A sunny day's complete Poussiniana Divide it from itself. It is this or that And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit, A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue, To be served by men of ice. The senses paint By metaphor. The juice was fragranter Than wettest cinnamon. It was cribled pears Dripping a morning sap. The truth must be That you do not see, you experience, you feel, That the buxom eye brings merely its element To the total thing, a shapeless giant forced Upward. Green were the curls upon that head.
Continue reading...
17