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"pms" poems
A strange weather pattern Appears up in the sky, And a strange sludge splatters Into onlooking eyes. Menstrual matter falls From the great godless clouds, The people struck with awe As they run, scream alloud. A trickle turned downpour Of radiated blood, Now drowning in a storm That yields a *** flood. Dropping violently in pints, gallons, and leagues We become fossils under a ************ sea.
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Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
************ Inundation
* *hold me not touch me not maybe I'm clumsy-clumsy-clumsy! have headache want chocolate shake maybe I'm lazy-lazy-lazy! feel me not mind me not I'm cranky-cranky-cranky! the mood is swinging find me clinging I'm touchy-touchy-touchy! may be crazy sometimes hazy I'm moody-moody-moody! stay away go your way I'm feelo-feelo-feelo! just be there patient listener I'm despo-despo-despo! here i contradict have conflict I'm psycho-psycho-psycho! changing hormones troubling estrogens tell me not a fatso-fatso-fatso! maybe I'll be ok again! maybe you'll love me then!* *
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
***
we were at this table, men and women, after dinner. somehow the conversation got around to *** one of the ladies stated firmly that the only cure for *** was old age. there were other remarks that I have forgotten, except for one which came from this German guest once married, now divorced also, I had seen him with any number of beautiful young girlfriends. anyhow, after quietly listening to our conversation for some time he asked us, "what's *** now here was one truly touched by the angels. the light was so bright we all looked away.
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12.3k
such luck
Beastly is this monster state yet many damsels cannot avoid Some may call it disturbingly conflicting and become annoyed Where rationality coexists with irrationality in an unstable realm Pretty monster states navigate this journey as captains at the helm Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states No need to disguise your fury or depressions Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states This is just part of your amazing expressions Wonder is this monster state since the inception of Adam and Eve Men can only hope to be compassionate, steadfast and never peeved One moment, pretty monster states can be loving and best friends Next moment, challenging one’s good nature and spirit to extreme ends Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states No need to disguise your fury or depressions Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states This is just part of your amazing expressions Frightful is this monster state like a suspenseful thriller or mystery Only those who are not faint of heart can sleuth this case history Where a profound will of character serves to stabilize one’s constitution Bringing the monster state to an uneventful but amenable restitution Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states No need to disguise your fury or depressions Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states This is just part of your amazing expressions.
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Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
Pretty Monster States ***
I need to go running to Pluto I HATE EVERYTHING WITH A ****** PASSION Just because I used to be a desperate psychopath Doesn't mean I'm still a desperate psychopath I AM A PERFECTLY RATIONAL HUMAN BEING WHY ARE YOU BREATHING LIKE THAT GET OUT OF MY FACE WAAAAAAAAAAAAit. Come bAAAAAAAAAck. I'M nOt The pRoblEm I've changed I mean I thOuGht I did Until I rEaliZeD that EvErYOne iS A FREAKING IDioT
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Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC
***
two days before we loaded the car with what seemed like the entirety of my heart and belongings to move me across the state to attend college, my baby brother found me on the kitchen floor, crying about the microwave. well, not just the microwave. he found me in a crumpled up heap, sobbing that this day would be the last i had to microwave things in this particular microwave. i couldn’t justify my lament then. my dad chalked it up to *** my brother called me a drama queen, and my mom told me i needed to eat less microwaveable things. but i think i might’ve figured it out now. five months later. y’see, i grew up an ARMY brat. attended five different elementary schools, two separate middle schools, one high school, and two colleges. i was never good at saying goodbye, but i’m a pro at walking away. i found out quickly that while the faces and names of my friends and classmates change from state to state, the character tropes stay basically the same. people and places become such replaceable things. i worry, a lot, about being a replaceable thing. there are talented people in this world. people that can divine the past and future from coffee grounds and tea leaves. but can anyone here tell me what kinds of awful things my footsteps say about me? there are boot marks, with my name on them, in places i know i should never have been. and clumps of dirt stuck to my heels that have been with me longer than some friends have. i sat on the floor last night while my love explained physics to me. he told me that gravity is a constant force, and of course, the earth’s gravity affects each and every one of us. but our individual gravity affects the earth as well. according to newton’s third law, the earth pulls of me with the same force that i pull on the earth. my mass disrupts space time. carl sagan once told me through the clarifying prism of the television screen, that we are all stardust, collapsed suns and black matter. we belong to no place. i belong to no place. i belong to no place. i don’t cry about the microwave anymore, i don’t waste my tears on saying goodbye. i know that every thing and every one has their time, and sometimes that time is brief. it’s a hard pill to swallow, ultimately my favorite self descriptor is ‘infallible’. but somedays, i fall just to stand up and see: the sun still rises, the earth still turns, the microwave still makes bomb-ass chicken nuggets, and i am still here.
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Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
chicken nuggets
two days before we loaded the car with what seemed like the entirety of my heart and belongings to move me across the state to attend college, my baby brother found me on the kitchen floor, crying about the microwave. well, not just the microwave. he found me in a crumpled up heap, sobbing that this day would be the last i had to microwave things in this particular microwave. i couldn’t justify my lament then. my dad chalked it up to *** my brother called me a drama queen, and my mom told me i needed to eat less microwaveable things. but i think i might’ve figured it out now. five months later. y’see, i grew up an ARMY brat. attended five different elementary schools, two separate middle schools, one high school, and two colleges. i was never good at saying goodbye, but i’m a pro at walking away. i found out quickly that while the faces and names of my friends and classmates change from state to state, the character tropes stay basically the same. people and places become such replaceable things. i worry, a lot, about being a replaceable thing. there are talented people in this world. people that can divine the past and future from coffee grounds and tea leaves. but can anyone here tell me what kinds of awful things my footsteps say about me? there are boot marks, with my name on them, in places i know i should never have been. and clumps of dirt stuck to my heels that have been with me longer than some friends have. i sat on the floor last night while my love explained physics to me. he told me that gravity is a constant force, and of course, the earth’s gravity affects each and every one of us. but our individual gravity affects the earth as well. according to newton’s third law, the earth pulls of me with the same force that i pull on the earth. my mass disrupts space time. carl sagan once told me through the clarifying prism of the television screen, that we are all stardust, collapsed suns and black matter. we belong to no place. i belong to no place. i belong to no place. i don’t cry about the microwave anymore, i don’t waste my tears on saying goodbye. i know that every thing and every one has their time, and sometimes that time is brief. it’s a hard pill to swallow, ultimately my favorite self descriptor is ‘infallible’. but somedays, i fall just to stand up and see: the sun still rises, the earth still turns, the microwave still makes bomb-ass chicken nuggets, and i am still here.
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I hurt I think it's loss and disappointment from "Hopes" that were never born, Which leaves me so forlorn. Oh, and I cry almost every day now and I sigh, then he always asks why.... The pain in my heart, Why does it go so deep? the way I weep; I grieve so hard, they say I even call & cry in my sleep. Pictures in my mind of children at play a dream, a hope, never to be. My grandfathers were veterans of war, they say. Agent orange says "one out of four" you see. Uncle Sam says "no compensation" for me, No big family to be all around me. I think I'll give up on me, sometimes.... "Please make it go away!" I say, he can't, and so he turns away. Our future we cannot see, afraid to dream, afraid for me. Going through the motions, trying to do what's right. Tried all the magic potions, but too much DNA's twisted up too tight. Now I'm hurtin and bleedin all of the time! Doctor says its gotta go, this womb of mine. Adenomyosis, got into me, says I'll be fine. But, no more babies! don't you see I was not finished with my family! I dont want to, but I know I gotta go. Now its gone, still PMS-ing Now I'm not healin' right! Its depressing..... 8 weeks now, still not released and the mourning has not eased Anger abounds when i awake but I can't eat, so then I shake. So I just cry, and blessed be, ask God, Jesus and the angels to have mercy on me
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Balanced Translocation (or dream babies)
It’s bad enough I’m just known as that squiggly piece of the alphabet but what’s worse are the jokes of Why the long face Kevin? Those are the times when I wish I could give as good as I get it's not as bad as facing the guys with bloated stomach and *** and have the amoebas ribbing me incessantly ****** single celled creatures** They have an idea, but they can’t guess Poseidon take you Janet! for leaving me in such a mess! You take all of me without leaving just a single ounce of pleasure and I’m left birthing your demon spawn You were just a mistress Seahorse in disguise weren’t you? I’m no longer an oddity now I’m something less *Seahorse blues a male in distress*
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 8:49 AM UTC
Seahorse Blues
I adore women I refuse to apologize for it I like the way their voices squeak in the upper registers I like the fashions I like the makeup I like the aromas Not the silly runway catwalk Biz that relegates them as awkward mannequins adorns them in  the impractical and cloaks them in the  absurd overreaching  of  the tired  clamoring for something new and unique that which exploits  their  lithesome anorexic perplexing job requirement I like the way they can shape shift, alter and assume new identities I like the fact that some have mood swings and *** I marvel that they can give birth I like being aware that their  'water-weight' make's  them grumpy I'm astonished that they innately ovulate with  the cycles of the moon and that the Huntress Diana inherently  acquired her namesake Doesn't bother me a bit that "it's a lady's prerogative to be late" or that opening a door for them is considered 'sexist' I was raised with a sister and a mother with lace and dainty  frilly things I caused them a lot of aggravation and consternation I think they enjoyed it - nonetheless somewhat I refuse to apologize for it
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
a male's misgivings
my hair is falling out more-- i don't quite understand why. could it be the food I've been eating-- or lack thereof. am i pulling too hard on my ponytails-- or yanking too tightly while twisting my braids. can it be the stress of my final days of school-- or all the assignments still marked in red. possibly the ache in my heart for him-- or the rage simmering in my chest. maybe it's simply symptoms of *** or just my mind pressing buttons at random. would it be because of my anxiety flowing over-- or the jitters from my morning cup of coffee. funny if I've been tearing at my scalp in my sleep-- or clawing the demons from my dreams.
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Aug 17, 2021
Aug 17, 2021 at 10:39 PM UTC
maybe it's telogen effluvium--
Do you want a small mystery? Should I make the postman history? What is in that letterbox? Yet more bills, quite a shock. Or do you want a big mystery? Why are we here? Ask history.... Good question that, We just are, that's that, (Now I sound like *** Dumb question that, I guess, So, next, that small mystery, When do I make the postman history? I guess it's all mystery to me........
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Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
A MYSTERY....
**In deep sleep, her  anguished voice rings a bell in my brain, hear the screams of a woman in my blood stream, hallucination, I loved to believe,  but then it became more frequent at night, she whispers, her intimate secrets, without shame in to my ears, in a seductive voice.Do I like it? she snickers I got used to it's persuasive lilt, sometimes it  sounds like a complaint. If I turn a deaf ear, she knows how to make me listen Then I am all ears; become her single, faithful, captive listener. She questions me sometimes"Tell me what you know about *** I go and learn the fundas on the female of the spices, in detail, pass the test, wonder, how little I know about her as a person. Isn't she my counterpart? She talks about the curtain of ignorance, that still segregates  her from him and chides me "Will you be complete, if I didn't wake you up"**
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Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
A woman's scream, I hear in my blood stream
I stopped loving you on my birthday. Did you know that? It shocked me out of that confused numbness I'd been living in Momentarily. Like a twig snapping A candle, quickly snuffed. All the other cliches people use to say that what was, Suddenly isn't. Can't be, anymore. But it was sudden And it was shocking And I didn't know what to do. So I tried to pass it off as *** Or stress, or distraction. But I knew what it was. I knew what it wasn't, anymore. You didn't. I wonder when you stopped loving me Because surely you've stopped loving me And I'm glad you've stopped loving me. It's all I hoped for, from that day to the end. I hope it was before the end. For my birthday, I made my cupcakes Drank my liquor And prepared myself to remember how to love you. But I knew I couldn't, anymore.
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Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 2:00 AM UTC
anymore
Don't touch me Don't look at me in a funny way Don't take too long to respond to a question Don't walk slowly in front of me Don't even breathe if you can help it Don't talk too much Don't laugh at my frustration to try and ease the mood Just buy me some chocolate Sit 5 feet away And shut the hell up
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Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 8:36 AM UTC
***
.                                     ***                               M  ***    P                              S     ***    M                            P       ***       S                           P          M           S                          P           M            S                         P            M              S                        P             M                S                       P            M M               S                      P            M    M              S                     P            M      M              S                     P            M      M               S                     P             M     M               S                      P              M M                S                        P               M                S                           P            M             S                              P         M         S                                  P     M    S                                          M                                          M                                          M
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Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
*** *****
.                                     ***                               M  ***    P                              S     ***    M                            P       ***       S                           P          M           S                          P           M            S                         P            M              S                        P             M                S                       P            M M               S                      P            M    M              S                     P            M      M              S                     P            M      M               S                     P             M     M               S                      P              M M                S                        P               M                S                           P            M             S                              P         M         S                                  P     M    S                                          M                                          M                                          M
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I’m so tired of men just looking at my chest I wish that some would just Take a hint and give it a rest Once a month I turn evil I rage I cry I laugh and more My hormones just going out of control Im so tired of men just caring about my chest Go **** off It’s just ***
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May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 5:32 PM UTC
***
Girl Can't be anything but A girl *** an ESP Girl Sensitive is weak Girl Rescued becomes rescuer Girl Dance for yourself Girl Water burns too Girl Came from his rib Girl He came from you Girl Bodies in quicksand Girl Stabbed your origins Girl Cheered for your tears Girl I told you so Girl When you went off alone Girl Perfume and death Girl While your wearing a ring Girl See the imprint it leaves Girl As you chisel it off
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Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 8:47 PM UTC
*** & ESP
I'm strong I'm hormonal and I'm gonna cut a *****
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
It's not *** It's You 10W
I've long grown used to your absence And your presence only disturbs me. It upsets the balance of daily life and Tips the scales of normality up to a point where I really can't live with you. I can't stand the sight of you. I just hate it that your friends don't see That side of you. I really hate it that they think You're some goody-two-shoes. Maybe you are and my opinion is Biased as always but I swear if they'd seen The drunk side to you, The perverted side to you, The ******* PMS-ing side to you, Maybe they wouldn't want to Meet you so much. But yet, yet you do the house work. That's the only plus point, I guess. I don't know, that point throws me into confusion. Are you a good man or are you not? If you do the housework, it means you care right? But but, there are so many things that say you're not. I don't want your money, I don't even want your time anymore. I just don't want to see you. Even your friends think you travelled a lot, Even they think you neglected me throughout my childhood. Well, maybe you just realised that in recent years but It's too late now. I don't want your time anymore. I don't want your money. I don't want your ******* love. I just want you to go Far far away, so maybe, She'd be happy and I'd be happy. But you ******* clean the house. And I rarely do. That always makes me feel like Some unfilial kid who's Making her parent a slave. But I do do housework. Right?
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
All Messed Up
The lights are too bright The chair is too hard The pants are too tight You’re being too annoying This pen hurts my hand too much You’re never there for me I’m not that mean. I’m just P M Sing.
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Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
***
Just like the lever on your door, your words won't let me out Your breath to each stanza excites me with... words upon words of what you might say. I might be getting all giddy cause I fall for words just like the days wrapped around this earth. You might not notice me like, lyrically because, I am just.. Your friend . But yes, I do understand. Because, we are just make believing you are, the courtship to being mine. Your presents excite me. Not the ones that you would buy me. But the spirit of your be-ing. You being there to raise my awareness like the poet who spoke of "house alarms" and being aware of what is there. You may not notice me for who I want to be through the passageway of your eyes. The delicate touch you graze the side of my arm as we sit ever so close to each other. I'm just... Over analyzing what may or may not happen. My *** that serves me to be this wild beast chasing after the minor things. You've been on my mind. But for what reason? Like this blood coming out of my body, are you only coming out for this monthly visit?
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Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 3:26 PM UTC
***
mother problems chicken pox asked my aunt she replied shower my mother with love and care after many tries chicken pox appointment to the end of chicken pox sent my mother a message that she wasn’t okay drowsy drowsy medicines drowsy shouts and screams a clueless father a I-dont-give-two-fucking-shits sister exams over results out failed my favourite subject HOW DID I FAIL LITERATURE chicken pox doctor misdiagnosis then gave me wrong number of weeks to rest choreography for bollywood tamil folk parents were showering ill concealed parental concern went to support ran ran ran confused and nervous of the entire world hating me i ran. ran. i ******* ran wash the dishes cooked **** - got scolded for not cooking extremely pms-y father why the ******* hell did that happen cooked messed up dishes ate dinner outside whole family sick syf prac horrendous out of breath trying to run dinner outside everyday people who didnt listen people who didnt care about the dance time limit one week before kanal havent finished choreography CHICKEN ****** POX came back to school parents being *** whole family down with chicken pox mother working her *** off she doesnt want any help dancing dancing dancing mother’s talk about me trying to get away from dance raffles diploma performance november performance i couldnt dance kicked out ruthlessly kanal five minutes before a message no more such activities next year marche dinner screamed and screamed out of breath ******* hole in my throat ran ran ran ran ran away from idiosyncrasies raffles diploma career choices out of money where did all the money go where did all the money go goals fashion designer parents : banker, scientist work backwards from the goal dance i want to dance outings 2 days before go on to khan academy father only listens to himself crushed bones crushed ribcages i cant breathe still running
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
marathon of a life
mother problems chicken pox asked my aunt she replied shower my mother with love and care after many tries chicken pox appointment to the end of chicken pox sent my mother a message that she wasn’t okay drowsy drowsy medicines drowsy shouts and screams a clueless father a I-dont-give-two-fucking-shits sister exams over results out failed my favourite subject HOW DID I FAIL LITERATURE chicken pox doctor misdiagnosis then gave me wrong number of weeks to rest choreography for bollywood tamil folk parents were showering ill concealed parental concern went to support ran ran ran confused and nervous of the entire world hating me i ran. ran. i ******* ran wash the dishes cooked **** - got scolded for not cooking extremely pms-y father why the ******* hell did that happen cooked messed up dishes ate dinner outside whole family sick syf prac horrendous out of breath trying to run dinner outside everyday people who didnt listen people who didnt care about the dance time limit one week before kanal havent finished choreography CHICKEN ****** POX came back to school parents being *** whole family down with chicken pox mother working her *** off she doesnt want any help dancing dancing dancing mother’s talk about me trying to get away from dance raffles diploma performance november performance i couldnt dance kicked out ruthlessly kanal five minutes before a message no more such activities next year marche dinner screamed and screamed out of breath ******* hole in my throat ran ran ran ran ran away from idiosyncrasies raffles diploma career choices out of money where did all the money go where did all the money go goals fashion designer parents : banker, scientist work backwards from the goal dance i want to dance outings 2 days before go on to khan academy father only listens to himself crushed bones crushed ribcages i cant breathe still running
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you have the look they say could **** well i'm not dead, though sufferin' still. i have a mind to tell your mother the way you smile when you're with the other. she'd say she warned me at the start not to burp and hold the **** whatever, no matter, i really don't care im not even bothered, just gimme some air. let me rip this old rug up it stinks of old **** de la pup. i had a gripe to air today so I let it out and blew you away. n'er the mare before the cart show me your money and then your heart. gimme a kiss, and make it quick I can't take pleasure, it gets me sick. a house that smells of fresh cut flowers can't numb heartache, but sweetens the sours. drop kick me out to the farthest field I'll roll back home when all has healed.
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
***
His lips move, stumbles over words. Long pause Professor seems concerned for his obvious lack of intelligence, her eyebrows lowered. I wonder what it would feel like to grab the thin iPod from the desk, and fling it against the wall. How many pieces would it break into? I wonder what it would feel like to grip his greasy hair, and slam his head, just once, onto the peeling table top? I smile to myself and cross my arms, the fantasy playing out again and again.
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Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
PMS-ing