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Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
what, your daddy was a drunk
you’re trying to take it out on me,
in order to keep me as filth and he as pristine?
oi freud! freud! get in here and sort this out,
i'm not minted enough for a recliner-couch,
i can stand in a queue for vine tomatoes
but i can't do it for a soul i'll be paid for
to analyse: just let me eat the **** tomatoes;
i too wished i missed the v.i.p. pass into the 27 club
though, with hendrix licking for slit tongues on
guitar strings, to no door, to no nirvana, only
applauded by charlie chaplin for the effort.
go on... play along with pippi langstrumpf
while i talk to your dear daddy about pigtail ******
and your crass concern for horrid images
but frail words needing censorship, ms. 'adism.
ConnectHook Aug 2019
Hey Pippi--we aren't listening
To your global whine
And climatic rebuke.

Pippi you are a brat.
Your neurotic parents
Did a terrible job.

Your silly religion
Or lack thereof
Does not concern us.

Your long stockings
Make good stuffing
For your mouth-hole.

Hey Pippi--
The world is not ending...
But your delusions are.
That Swedish girl...
https://youtu.be/qpSQuc69R9c
A Mareship Sep 2013
(Give me a London girl every time…)

- I want to push my hands into your hips and smack you back to front against the wall, bunching your **** little skirt in my fingers, unclipping those fifties plastic beauties that cling to your thighs and I want you to be a right proper girl for me, a right proper girl -

(…I’m gonna find one, I’ve made up my mind…)

So she got her phone out and

Smiled her Madonna-Gap smile,

Fine lines floundering

Like speech marks

Either side of her mouth.

So romantic!

A girl with a face of

Punctuation!

***** pennies,

she said,

Your eyes are

*****

*******

Pennies


She would finger the holes

In my tatterdemalion

Charity coats,

And my shop-bought medals.

She would jab her fingers

Against each point

Of the Burma Star,

Spookily,

As though it were a

Pentagram.

She’s a washboard,

Her ******* are  thumb-tacks

In a cosmetic shade of

Gold,

With a crucifix stamped

Like a dagger glyph

Right between them,

like a silver sneer,

on her precious metal chest.

- I want to take your photo -

I want you in Pippi Longstockings

And to angle you just so, my no-knickered **** with her goosebumps on show -


I’ll never forgot when she told me

She owned a leopard-skin

Pill-box hat ,

And I said

* “You’d have to be dead

Not to fancy that…”*

I’m not sure how aware she is though,

Of how many people

Tongue- to- the -floor want her.

She plays bored on purpose!

I’ve watched beautiful boys

Go to pieces

Trying to entertain her

With a curly straw.

She’s a real cheekbone feline,

And around her pupils

Rages a ring of jagged orange,

Like a jester’s ruff.

And I think of all this,

Whilst she stands there,

Moving from toe to toe

In her zig-zag heels,

And wooden bracelets,

And her little lycra

Landmine that

Shop assistants sell

To girls like her.

And then she clocks me.

and she doesn’t say a thing -

she just swims smilingly  over

Through a parted gaggle,

Letting me grab her

Like I mean it,

Spanning her waist with my

Hands like

A corset -

And the fairylights

Are  just smudges

Across her sequins,

And her mottled shoulders are

Ten shades

Of mostly white.
jughead jones Oct 2019
Little Miss Muffet
Told old ones to stuff it
She ate of her shrimp and grits;
Along came a spider
Who ran at the sight of her
Because Pippi doesn't give two *****
Kate Copeland Apr 2019
Walking backwards in my mind
digging in my heels
and eating pears

my dad the best too
taking the world 
from his shoulders
and laughing loudest

happy freckles day
thanks to mum
a curled up nose
and red hair from a box

Thinking about all the wonderful places
beautiful things treasured in my chest 
knowing I'm so so able to do
what I haven't done before

All things true
aren't lies after all
Sirenes Jan 2016
"I'm sorry sweety
But you have a problem
You can't read
This is third grade
You don't even know what you read
You can't even spell

Please pick a hand
You can't write with both
This is your problem
This is the cause
Of your learning disability"

So I picked a hand
And wrote with left
Unaware of the fact
That I shared all other tasks
Between the two

So I asked for a book
For christmas and my birthday
Please give me fairy tales
And I read an hour a day
Two out loud
on the weekends

I read all about
Rapunzel and Sleeping Beauty
I read Pippi Longstocking
Cover to cover

Change of enviornment did the trick
Second year in a new country
And my lowest grade was 8,5
I read all afternoon
And wrote my heart out
I corrected past tendencies
Mistakes other kids got away with

So here's the silver lining:

You may not be the best at everything
But take the challenge anyway
I still struggle with this everyday
Each craft is a channel
For your genious

Never use the word "impossible"
You are setting limits
Where there should be none
For surely, the only thing that matters
If how much you enjoy it.
Never give up and surround yourself with people who believe in you!
"Don't believe me, just watch"
Mix barley grass capsule powder into your old dog's food (barley grass is cheaper than wheat grass). Within barley grass (& in most fruit seeds, except citrus) is Amygdalin (vitamin B17) which controls swelling, stabilizes blood pressure, kills errant healing cells (malignant growth), and deadens pain with its natural analgesic benzaldehyde. All B vitamins are water soluble therefore all B vitamins have no known toxicity. Never take B17 on an empty stomach.
Mix barley grass capsule powder into your old dog's food (barley grass is cheaper than wheat grass). Within barley grass (& in most fruit seeds, except citrus) is Amygdalin (vitamin B17) which controls swelling, stabilizes blood pressure, kills errant healing cells (malignant growth), and deadens pain with its natural analgesic benzaldehyde. All B vitamins are water soluble therefore all B vitamins have no known toxicity. Never take B17 on an empty stomach.
Mix barley grass capsule powder into your old dog's food (barley grass is cheaper than wheat grass). Within barley grass (& in most fruit seeds, except citrus) is Amygdalin (vitamin B17) which controls swelling, stabilizes blood pressure, kills errant healing cells (malignant growth), and deadens pain with its natural analgesic benzaldehyde. All B vitamins are water soluble therefore all B vitamins have no known toxicity. Never take B17 on an empty stomach.
Dear Edward,

[When]
In Search of Lost Time[,]
[Try} Looking Through the Glass Of Mice and Men

Anne of Green Gables
'Knew Why the Caged Bird Sings

[While] The Great Gatsby
[had]
Great Expectations
[in]
A Tale of Two Cities

[T'was]
Steel-heart[ed]
[but]
Insufferable

Ida B.
[friended]
Jane Eyre,
Emma,
Rebecca,
Matilda,
Heidi,

Robinson Crusoe,
Frankenstein,
Dracula,
Ulysses,
Pippi Longstocking,

Othello,
Hamlet, [and]
Sherlock Holmes-
[and?]
The Catcher in the Rye

Something Wicked This Way Comes[-]
I've Been Told There'd be Cake
[but alas, too late-]
Things Fall Apart
As I Lay Dying

...

Far From the Madding Crowd
Tender is the Night

The Grapes of Wrath
[is found when]
Looking for Alaska
[with]
The Fault in Our Stars[...]
[a.k.a.]
Romeo and Juliet

To **** A Mockingbird
[thy needs a temperature of]
Fahrenheit 451

[One more thing-]
Pride and Prejudice
[is]
Deathless

[Okay, fine, more than one:]
The Witch of Blackbird Pond
[was at]
The Last Book Party

[so were the]
Invisible Monsters
[and]
The Lord of The Flies[.]

[In the]
Dying of the Light[,]
Divergent
[and]
Breathless[,]

[emerged]
The Lightning Thief

...

[Ultimately, in the end]
[strikethrough "And Then"] There Was None


Love,
Stargirl
Wake up in Östermalm,     south to Gamla Stan.
I walk,
it is a cool day with albumen clouds,
rivers of snow gloss the streets ecru.

- Meet outside the bookstore;
Pippi Långstrump grins at me from behind glass.
The blue and yellow of the Nordic cross
prods out from a shop,     primrose-skin buildings,
streets riddled with syllables,
Västerlånggatan,     Tyska Brinken,
graffiti a ****** siren on the walls.

- ’75 the first time here,     Waterloo a year before,
birth of the famous foursome
to karaoke machines from Södermalm to south Japan.
And again,     new millennium,
a second time in ’16 where love was love
and peace was peace.

- Practise the numbers.     Seven is sju,
my mouth producing rare noise,
a wispy word between show and swear.

- We walk.
Splashes of island and butterscotch-haired teens.
A girl hums a Melfest song.
I toss a Sverigedemokraterna leaflet in the bin.

- The waitress could be Lisbeth and AVICII’s playing
and isn’t it beautiful,     you,     and this,
where we have found ourselves.
NOTE: Each second stanza is supposed to be indented from the right hand side, but HP is not having it. The first stanza should also begin with a dash.
Written: 2018/19.
Explanation: A poem that was part of my MFA Creative Writing manuscript, in which I wrote poems about cities that have staged the Eurovision Song Contest, or taken the name of a song and written my own piece inspired by the title. I have received a mark for this body of work now, so am sharing the poems here.
Still wet
and I don't mean me
but I've finished my labours
and going home for my tea

It's summer or supposedly so
and yet the rain does not seem to want to let go

I'm buying a kayak or canoe,
a canoe because
I might have my kayak and eat it
haha
see what I did there?
if not
never mind
you'll find that joke
in a ******* that you pull
and I don't mean a girl.

The girl sitting next to me
has taken off her shoes
(I wonder if this is just the beginning )
there's a hole in her sock
but I don't think she's
Mother Kelly,

If you can't sing it
don't bring it to the
table.

Lots of Poppins in this carriage,
Pippi longstockings too, they're
all looking like drowned kittens
and everyone of them soaked right through.
Zywa Jun 2020
The kitchen and the large bed
are Mum's, Pippi and I
live throughout the house

where everything must be in its place
I'm working on it every day
just like Mum, and sweet mouse

Neil hangs on his tail
he watches and sniffs
then I pet him, he likes that



I was two, now I'm seventeen
my room is mine, and Trini
is mine, my stuff

friends, jobs, money and all
the things Mum would not approve
if she knew, are mine

all mine
even if they explode
and I can't help but cry
Collection “The Big Secret”
Kate Copeland Aug 2019
When I was little I only watched Pippi plus
a series with a wizard and his daughter
who was able to make time stop by
simply clapping her hands, saying now
I do this and time stands still. Don't
you just love the idea of being able
to be in a shop and try sweets
to be in a queue and just skip
to play your favourite song forever
to wear your dearest dress every day
To kiss you over and over and
over again.
Brianna Heins Jun 2012
Sometimes I wonder about you.
The smell of rotten dairy and growing pains
pushes crystal clear tear drops onto my face.

So I bite my lip and pretend I didn’t say what I did.

Awestruck caution, distinctive and darting clung to the thin brown braids that sagged,
not that pippi image
the cold temperature of your house must have seeped into your soul
that sinister spring day
While excitement and clarity eclipsed your truth,
a lick lick, smile with the eyes dog and a master puppeteer

I wish you weren’t the one to blame.

My first secret, no roaring, no scratching,
defenseless and warm like a chick-a-dee
coating my lips with a shimmy shine of confidence.
Sitting slow in science class,
letting the sweat on my palms soak my heart covered line paper.
I knew you easy and I knew you true.

Slip slip secret, shut shut eyes, slow slow frown, scorn scorn me.

Sometimes I think it’s funny how much you can ignore.
Like your father, you lend a scary statement to receive back fear
you turned the pillars in my eyes to see-saws
or maybe more like a russian roulette table
because I guess what I can tell you and I know what I can’t.

I wish now you would ask me about my first secret,
your squinted green marble stones spilling sorry as if they knew me in those following years.
As if they recognized the uncivilized eyes I bore to replace the new found exactitude
you smoke screened my panic, as I tried to undo that three syllable word

So I was afraid of myself. Not what I had become.

In the fashion of first kisses I thought you were oh so ready for,
your fishy look hooked on the pronoun not the experience.
You chewed on the “her” and spit it on my soul.

Here I am telling the tale of our tragic traces
So they can know of my “Lesbian” stamped tongue.
But oh idealistic twelve year old shaped, best friend forever
I will never really tell you, me, again.

— The End —