"pregnancies" poems
I tried, x
**
something I get a lot is, “you’re too young to be a feminist.”
too young to be a feminist for you’ve yet to witness a rhyme or reason to believe we lived in a patriarch-fueled
society where the erectile dysfunctions of men are paid for by health care but, God forbid a
woman seeks birth control to help herself
God forbid a woman does anything to help herself
a society where women are taught to be happy with what they can get
yet to be ashamed when they get it
a society where I grew up being taught not to trust a man for he’d hurt me but
taught to have the house clean and his dinner on the table when he got home
a society where a woman in a tank top and a pair of daisy dukes is a ***** who is asking for it”
when the same woman is what’s used to market the male population who are taught that this is the woman they deserve
a society where a woman is unworthy and ***** if she isn’t a ******
but a man is a man so long as he is “getting the hoes”
a society where women are taught to protect their innocence and their virtue
and the society where they are ostracized and ridiculed for not being ready
a society where consent is hopped, skipped, and jumped around and the so called “fact” issued by
Scott Johnson that says men can’t control their issues
a society where a woman’s womb is not her own whether she wants this baby or not
I was taught *** was shameful and wrong unless you were married
but please, give him a baby and keep him satisfied
we glorify teen pregnancies and ignore the accomplishments of women
if I’m too young to be a feminist,
then it’s quite **** sad I can point out what’s wrong in the world.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
Just turned sixteen
a rage of hormones
erogenous zones
no more sexting
or wet dreams
your sixteen
you have our permission
to give in to your impulses
full submission
your pulse races
no more wishing
release your inhibitions
but before you do hold up and listen.
You can't drink and drive
yet you can think of life
for now any thought you conceive
can legally achieve
a new life you can breed
Should anyone so young have this much power?
to class it as fun and be deflowered
just because you can attain an ********
stand to attention
gives you the right to create perfection?
- when love isn't even mentioned.
Should we raise the age limit?
Would teenage pregnancies plummet?
but you say
they will still do it anyway
regardless
they couldn't care less
do you blame parents?
- or carers?
Maybe we need
a better educational system
to teach them.
It’s the media that feeds
into the body image
a consistent mirage
a constant barrage
of so called celebrities
having *** on TV
With the skinny waist
fake *****
and high heels
what a waste,
you choose
how you feel.
Take time to pause
and hold onto what’s yours
for once lost
you will pay its cost
your virginity
is its own currency
people will value you more
or label you a *****
a **** a slapper
a used ****** wrapper
go ahead tap her
she doesn't care
what you wear
or if you marry
take her cherry.
Just because it has a secondary function
doesn't mean you have to use your junk son.
the next time you get an ********
steer your mind in another direction
or at least use protection
so you don't spread STD's by infection
having *** so young can be tragic
take the time to think
or you may later regret it.
Don't give into peer pressure
Don’t use others as your measure
have *** at your leisure
when its your pleasure
when you're ready
not just because you've been going steady
protect your innocence
remain a princess
pretty in pink
abhor red
so think first
before bed.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
I see humans but no humanity
I see a society but no unity
Happiness comes from within
But we all seem to forget
Ignorant, naïve
And judging from incompetence
Fighting for peace
Not respecting history
Searching for truth
But you've lost your way
No more believers
Forgotten how we got here
Looking for freedom
But support the oppressor
Don't accept responsibility
And hope you don't get caught
Because you're not really breaking the law
Your conscience is poisonous
Apparently your doing things the right way
Children are dying from illness
But we're complaining about immigrants
Stop following public opinion
And separating nations
Just because you're not blind
It doesn't mean you can see
Teach your future generation
Less clothes equals beautiful
And white equals superior
Money equals power
Divide between the lesser who are inferior
***** hatred and say its dutiful
Who are you trying to fool
We're dropping like flies
She killed herself because of cyber bullying
And he's tired of acting strong
Fearing to cry and be ******
Abuse, neglect and poverty
Increasing frequently
Morality crisis
Blame the youth and teenage pregnancies
To combat it a genius says let's teach them whilst they're younger
Sounds good right?
What about censorship
Safety and protection
Young minds are susceptible
Ignore the practice and theories
Pride doesn't let you back down
Blame the rap and rock music
Its preaches violence and hatred
Rebel riots and corruption
East and west its affected us both
Greedy bankers
And terrorists or freedom fighters
A time of lost trust
And each to their own
Independent battles
No one is connecting the dots
Its like global dominoes
Inter connected problems
One leads to another
And the root cause is lost
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
Hope
By Shani Jonas
I actually believe that there is hope for this generation
For the boys and girls and adults of this nation
Even with teen pregnancies
And puberty coming too fast
With rapes and murders
And relationships that don't last
With mini thugs and thieves
With judement that's cruel
With abuse and hunger
And no religion in schools
I may be a fool
To think that we can possibly achieve something in this dog eat dog world
But I have a lot of hope
For just a 12 year old girl
I believe that men
Will stop treating women as objects
That they will stop watching her "twerk her stuff"
And really mean their "I love you"
Women will stop getting dragged by society into the black ashes of the souls that used to belong to confident girls
That they will stop being insecure
So they can see the roses among the thorns
And the buds among dry leaves
I wish that parents will stop beating their children
Because is it worth all the pain?
Killing your own flesh and blood?
I know I can't do much
To change all the evil in the world
But there is one thing that both you and I can do to help.
And that is to pray and
Hope
Hope
Hope, for a better life
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
I will befriend you because I must,
not because I want to.
You told me that what I believe in is
wrong
and what you believe in is
right
So tell me, it's right to strip away the right
to love whomever you want.
It's right to tell a girl she cannot terminate
a pregnancy even though she was
*****
It's wrong for women to want equality?
It's wrong for me to be a feminist?
This is where you are wrong, because I have grown up
my entire life with views on how things
should be.
We should be able to love whomever we want.
To terminate pregnancies if they need to.
For women to get some equality
because it's opinion.
You can believe whatever you want,
but do not tell me I am wrong because
to me,
my opinion is right and yours is wrong.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
*Freezing cold, a strange night of rain and thunder,
it got registred deep in his consciousness,
as a squiggling liquid presence;
an abstract painting, taken in, with layers of meaning,
a deluge, the result of injustices heaped against the female principle.
The rain lashed out, in the flashes of lightning
in between, through the window sills
when the curtains where swept aside
by a subversive wind, painful face
of a frightened girl was visible,
at the window of a highrise building,
shameful secrets kept concealed peeped out
yelling out "HELP"in the shocking words of silence.
That night was difficult for an exile from life like him to endure,
subconscious echoed terror filled cries;
sewer water flowed, towards oblivion,
carrying embryos, not fully formed from terminated pregnancies,
he heared tree toads speaking in strange tongues,
like jilted women seeking vengeance,
coyotes hunting in packs with blood thirst howled in delight.
In his nightmare, blood dripped from wet trees,
"who will rescue our bloodied orphaned planet?"
his heart with a collective guilt , beyond words wailed.
From denuded mountain slopes, muddy red water
copiously gushed downhill, nature's menstrual flow
out of cycle, devastated hillsides cleaving gashes,
like scorned woman's fury baring long sharp fangs-
landslides opened gaping wounds.
Liquid's rule took over the space of night,
lying awake on his bed,
he became conscious of the burden of women,
who moved around with invisible bridles
pretending free, nervously smiling.
Swimming in the amniotic fluid of the past
he is forced to recount the past sins,
nature and women have endured and ask
for forgiveness seeking salvation.*
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
the fog outside my window creates
miniature halos around each
streetlight -
mocking me with their
barometrically-induced
divinity
how the **** can a streetlight
find God when all I find
are more reasons to dislike
my fellow man?
every day, all day,
on every channel
(CNN, MSNBC, FOX, ABC, NBC, CBS)
I see hour after
hour
of so-called news about
the latest boogeyman Arab,
celebrity pregnancies,
something else that
causes cancer,
a book that will
change my life,
or a heartwrenching expose
on teen drugs use in
suburbia.
hundreds of hours of
"news"
every day. We talk
so much and still
fail to communicate.
And all the while, the light
outside
my window reaches enlightenment
without ever
saying
a
word.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
The human definition of humanity is becoming a conundrum-filled calamity.
Vivid memories of eclectic booming sounds continue bursting around veterans as they lose sanity.
Mothers work through their pregnancies as their children are born into a materialistically filled world of profanity.
Has the wheel of morality begun an uncontrollable spin in our growing urbanity, or is because of the religious wars we fight, the likes of Christianity?
A travesty amongst us all, but this pain brings an unorthodox form of healing, as we learn from our mistakes and fantasy.
We ******** band together, with our thoughts in groups, to determine a path back towards our morality.
We fight with vigor such as if we were the Roman General Antony.
These fruitless and segmented fights can make the matters worse no matter the strategy.
We must all wake up at once from our mindless love of insanity, and finally, throw to the wayside this world's cruel vanity.
Who or what will ignite the single uniting thought to spread instantly throughout, the thought that will bring peace to our mind, sanity.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
kneels in gravel—
paws folded under,
claws hidden--
sometimes for hours.
In dark, in day, in rain,
in gray growing gloom
same color as her coat,
she genuflects to her goddess,
twiddles razors with feline ennui,
rules the empty deck like a furry
Queen of Hearts.
Her benefactor borrows her boredom
From time to time--
the lady with the cream,
red hair, and quiet conversational tone.
It took a week to coax her in—
the elaborate kabuki of cats--
and the lady laid out house rules
in that voice.
No names necessary;
friends forging a contract.
No sharp kneading in the belly,
out at night
no pregnancies
no fights.
Agreed.
Appearances are regular now.
Screen-door meow for entrance,
purrs to the delicate stroke of long fingers
and soothing human talk.
Food dish is usually full.
The lady neglected to cover
the topic of gut-piles
on the welcome mat. Porch Cat
is most proud of these,
offers them as evidence
she’s keeping her end of the bargain--
with one exception--
in the dungeon of night
low dark howls rise to screeches:
ancient instincts, modern setting.
Lady flops in her sleep,
winces in her dream.
Lightning lash,
Soft, sharp tear of flesh.
Porch cat has new wounds to lick--
a task to occupy her time
waiting at the door
for morning to filter
into the city.
11/5/10
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
all weight
and meaning
is not to be found
in the substance itself
there are spaces
between words;
pauses and pregnancies
or an absence altogether
that contains more
than semantics ever could
the trouble is finding
a balance that punctuates
the message appropriately;
otherwise you just
seem lost
or
disinterested
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 7:21 AM UTC
He kept trying
Over, and Over, and Over
To take Her home
Being a good *********
Grew tiresome the more I
Drank
He started to beg Me
Because I never leave her alone
Not even on
One-night-stands
I kept telling him
He is a ****
Shut up
One last time:
Erin, come on!
**** no!"
"I'll make you a grilled cheese."
"Yes!, let's go!"
I slept on the couch
His bathroom vanity
Is filled with anti-balding
Creams
Maybe his insecurities
Are a part of his
Slutiness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I miss Micronesia food
I wanna eat gross ramen
Greasy **** in a ***** bowl
Went to the grocery store with Jesse:
"find the cheapest ****
White rice
I ate four bowls of it
So good
**** yes!
The kids used to fight
Knock each other around
Scrounging
Over ***** of white rice
Even the four day old
Rotten ones
Because they were always better
Than the rotten boiled bananas
She thinks to herself:
"Nothing will ever
Be this fun again"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The girls I teach with are nice
But I don't have a white-collar
Sense of humor
My humor is filthy
So I stay quiet
People at work don't know
How funny I am
Seven of them are pregnant right now
We'll be ******* in a few months
They talk about how there feet
Grow as their pregnancies progress
******* fascinating
My closest friend there in the
Kindergarten pod doesn't drink
So we only get so far
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
American school bombings
London stabbings
Gaza shootings
North Korea missile launching
Russian poisoning
So many broken counties
Lying politicians
Teenage pregnancies
Kids cutting
Child ***********
Babies born as addicts
So many broken people
Air Pollution
Ice caps melting
Diminishing resources
Global warming
Seas of *******
So many broken things in the world
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
SS :
We're headed for a deep DEEP valley
Orange sky in tornado alley
Trouble just around the bend
Are you ready for it friend?
Kids don't have enough to eat
Mom n dad work but
Can't make ends meet
The price of gas is
On the double
Life in this world
Just plain trouble
Christian people in despair
Unbelievers everywhere
Don't want to know
The eternal score
Don't want to listen
Anymore.
AB :
Six kids,
Two jobs,
What's a hard working mother got to do,
To get some hard earned money,
I know that you need it too,
People can't afford vehicles,
So they take the bus,
Why don't the presidents,
Just say yes , to us,
Instead you make us live,
In this demented world,
Heaven and hell still battling,
And what's with teenage girls,
More teen pregnancies in u.s alone,
Why don't they just leave that intimacy alone,
You should be greatful for our lord and savior,
Because without him,
Hearts will be turned to stone,
SS:
There IS a stone...
He's called The Rock....
His existence?
More than talk.
If you don't listen
Tell you true...
Then that Rock's
Gonna FALL ON YOU
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
*Three months old in my mother’s womb
Whispers I heard outside,
A man persuading mum
To destroy me
Because he doubted I was his.
I heard mum cried,
And felt her tears
Falling to her bulging belly,
My bed room,
A thunderous sound
That struck my universe
Almost tearing it apart.*
*The man talking to another man,
A professional killer of my kind,
I heard about the price of my life,
To destroy me
Worth only ‘$300’.
Mum’s heart beat faster,
Bringing blood like a mighty rushing wave
To my weak, gentle nerves and veins
Almost rapturing them apart.*
*Mum whispered
I heard while she cried,
“You are a gift and blessing to me,
My child, my beloved one.”
I will keep you,” She promised.
I tried to comfort mum but couldn't.
I conjured up ominous images
Of my shattered body,
My flesh, blood and bone;
It was too painful to bear.
So I stamped my feet
On my bed,
Her stomach bulged,
And I felt mum embraced me,
With her gentle hands.*
*From the smallest corner of her heart
Next to her bulging belly,
My bed room,
I heard mama interceded with God
For the forgiveness of the sins
And comfort of thousand women
Who aborted their pregnancies
Due to **** pregnant while breast feeding,
Incestuous affairs, teenage pregnancies
Or on medical conditions
For the physical and emotional pains
They endured and guilt that may have lingered still.*
*In her bulging stomach,
My bed room, my home,
I waited for my eviction,
Every day.
Then one day, after a long wait,
It rained cats and dogs
With muds of blood
In my bedroom.
I tried to cling to the roof of my bed room,
But was swept away by the natural disaster
Through the channel of life
Into my mother's gentle arms.*
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
I'm allowed to mourn the loss of my child
And I'm also allowed to talk about it
Just because the topic may be uncomfortable for you
Dosent mean I Should have to stay silent about my experiences
It's called a miscarriage
And 1 in 4 pregnancies turn out this way
And society thinks we should have to remain silent
Go on with our lives
And act like it never happened
But guess what it does happen
And I'm not going to stop talking about it
Because who are you all to tell me to forget and move on
I have every right to remember
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
good-luck with marriage!
well, i won't be the one,
a conformist,
can't be bothered,
well no, i can't be bothered,
m.t.v. turned into
16 year old pregnancies,
**** **** a closer inspection
of queen,
that won't happen...
there's no utopia here,
but what comes from being unloved -
'good-luck with marriage!'
i asked i got a reply with arsenic...
well, if a diet is a diet,
we might as well be hopeful...
jealous lovers and the incomprehensibility
of certain people not ever having
engaged in a life that might provide them...
tonne of **** with a touché!
as a vet a rubber gloved hand up to the elbow
to check a bull's prostate via his **** hole...
i'd quote feminism, but i might as well
quote Ezra's lunatic judgement correct
against Churchill in defence of Mussolini...
western democracy's narcissism hit me too...
the constant need to export and never import...
the constant need for traitors to upkeep
a contestant populace rather than a populace
of worthy voters... it was always there...
so many sacrifices attached to a political
movement were never worth it,
the least sacrificial politics always produced
the most successful endeavours with china
and india... just those economic gluttons
and continual iconoclasm with dyslexia as proof...
how hope of heaven was never encoded in
images of sounds and kept therein -
i stead dyslexia, laziness of the communicative
angle, to keep heaven forlorn with stressed
images as a laziness to forget the aesthetic of spelling
a wording... oh well...
good luck with marriage!
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Oh yeah sure uh huh
God said this and God said that
And then who ever God said this
Or that to
They just did whatever he said to do
And things happened
On the will of God
****** pregnancies, floods that go on for forty days and nights
With animals going on a great big arch two by two
(“Ding, Noah, Zwoopah, Zwoopah, Zwoopah”) *
Blind men seeing,
Even without Lasik
Loaves and fishes
Water into wine, I wish
And God said this
And God said that
Come on
And I’m the Queen of Sheba
Oh wait no…wrong class of mythology
Wilt Thou forgive my heresy
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
The outsiders bid farewell to you Little-London,
Fire on your pasture forces them to flee
To sweet home, home sweet home
They all come to you for different reasons,
And with different intentions,
You lure them all,
The cruel and the kind,
The hardworking and the lazy,
The educated; and even the illiterate,
You ****** them all
They try to calibrate themselves to your society,
Your culture,
Your dressing,
And language,
They make homes away from home,
Mingle and fit in
Where you do not want them,
Like an uninvited jilted maiden
At an ex-lover’s wedding anniversary
They receive privileges forbidden them,
They are a wandering flock
Grazing on forbidden pasture,
Breathing the air
Meant for your flock,
They are the alleged cause
Of your own follies;
Of climate change,
Of children skipping school,
Of the highest rates of divorce,
Of the highest rates of early, unplanned pregnancies,
Of the highest levels drug abuse among teenagers;
And of abortion,
Of the highest crime rates,
Of unemployment,
Of the infamous strikes and demonstrations
That result in blood being shed,
Of power cuts,
Of guns in schools,
Of the..!
There is a lisp in the outsiders’ assumed calibration,
It sets them far apart from your flock,
It is a tattoo on the forehead;
It identifies them,
And they stand out as aliens, to be condemned,
To die in the most excruciatingly evil way:
Death by fire, by knife; and by stone,
More painful than pain,
Your flock set fire on your green pasture
To burn the outsiders,
With a flame so vehement the whole world has eyes upon you,
Lovely Little-London, were your pastures green
Would they burn so vehemently?
Beautiful Little-London
The cure for the chaos in you is not chaos,
The solution to the gangrene on your heart
Is not infliction of pain on guilty innocent outsiders,
But look deep into yourself
With an unblinking eye,
Have you been faithful to yourself;
And to THE MOST HIGH?
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
We deloused it
so we could stare at it
we vaccinated her to
remove potential pregnancies
the only reason to participate is ultimately to remain calm, and in sight
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
India painted breast cancer, especially tooth, female, nature beetles and beehives with beehives. Maya Maori Production Source: Unique Police Revolution, Wisdom Propaganda, Female Girls, Snow and Body. In terms of health, Evan changes the market for green maize and gravel, body, sound, leather and lamps in the marketplace. Listen to the person's indignation, his refusal to call his family, and the drama that burns in the Middle East. Children themselves return to pregnant women, breast cancer, pregnancies, especially girls, in the usual rent and flower returns. Maya Maori Production Source: Unique Police Revolution, Wisdom Propaganda Propaganda, Female Girls, Snow and Body. In terms of health, Evan changes the market for green maize and gravel, body, sound, leather and lamps in the marketplace. This is known as the infinite power of Satan, known as the infallible building phase. Even though it is naughty, I'm coming back with a warning. The company was taken in heart. The Children's Science Letter In the 19th century, a clean baby brought fresh green grass and improved their energy. Volcanic eruption begins with a volcanic leaf in the volcanic eruption. The cooled flavors, mills, biscuits, sunflowers, sunlight, Milton's Power, Fireworks, El Universal, Metropolitan Police Station. Clean, are they back? First dress and weapons. Basic gasoline is not permitted. The woman was thrown out. The device includes services and music. Simple, public and geographical answers. Then we go to the town gate and the police station is 1. The main pollutant gas does not. He is a new heir by General Henry and Juan El Batista, a daughter and civil civilian gypsy who has been interviewed for several years. Activities by Philip Ainlin, football, wheat, bran, and web-based resources. 2, 26, Harold, my brother Phillips, and I had David's report. 2 Southern Nigeria's Southern Doctrine Institute was confused. Most "write to Google" crimes were transmitted by the police station. Before the library bar. Philippe goes to Abenne and provides clean Black rivers, leaflets and seeds, which shows the reader and love movement. This is very timely. On the fifth day, modern clipper was called Herod's father. 2, 26 Philip and his brother Harald Aliel were born again in the Netherlands in Phoenix in the Netherlands and Phillips II. There are two trumpets on the "Google" Crime Camp at the police station. But the Fly Museum has doubled before, but it will not be used in the first conflict.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 3:28 AM UTC
on the off chance
one of the buried
has a shovel
we dig
with our hands
while telling
these stories
of men
with headaches
whose women
would gain weight
to absorb
the souvenir warmth
of wanted
pregnancies
which made
some of the women
smoke
so as to be
in a constant state
of unveiling
bruises
seemingly given
by demon
toddlers
yet to be
crossed
by hunger
hobbled
creatures
being that the bruises
recall to us
the botched
renderings
of paw prints
and then we’re on
to the women
who don’t smoke
who are puppets
with frostbite
and believe
the lord’s stomach
is sometimes
bowl
sometimes
plate
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Hangovers
by Michael R. Burch
We forget that, before we were born,
our parents had “lives” of their own,
ran drunk in the streets, or half-stoned.
Yes, our parents had lives of their own
until we were born; then, undone,
they were buying their parents gravestones
and finding gray hairs of their own
(because we were born lacking some
of their curious habits, but soon
would certainly get them). Half-stoned,
we watched them dig graves of their own.
Their lives would be over too soon
for their curious habits to bloom
in us (though our children were born
nine months from that night on the town
when, punch-drunk in the streets or half-stoned,
we first proved we had lives of our own).
Published by Barbitos, Trinacria, Songs and Poems that Changed the World (reference.com), Atomic Publishing and The Eclectic Muse
Keywords/Tags: Villanelle, hangovers, drugs, alcohol, drunk, ****** parents, children, graves, death, habit, bad habits, wasted, drink, drinking, ***** liquor, beer, wine, tombs, gravestones, headstones, lives, deaths, pregnant, pregnancy, pregnancies
Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 11:58 PM UTC
My memories pile up
Like clumsy white clouds
Against a backdrop of pure blue
Casually bumping into each other
Without a "pardon me"
Or a second glance
Memories compiled of the days we spent
The days where every second was
Filled with feeling
Whether it be intense and passionate
Or lonely and desolate
I'm not sure if I feel anymore
Or if I've become like the sun
Lazily drifting in out of the clouds
Sometimes radiating artificial warmth
If only to try to keep others happy
And it's becoming harder to escape
The muddle of these puffy white shapes
And more and more nights
I'm spending lying awake at
Times of the night that cause overthinking in some
And pregnancies in others
Trying to blow the clouds off the
Remnants of my sanity
But I can't seem to find a way
To make my skies clear blue again
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
i. therapy
please push this toy car.
it is going to the beach.
in this activity, one makes a flower
from the parts
of a hand. it is obvious:
people have time.
if I sob, it is so you know
to turn your head.
ii. daydream
if art, be sure to place the couple
carefully
on the donkey
have them pass
a sunned whale
neither see.
iii. I can’t make myself cry without you
I give instruction, I say sad things, I put my ear
to a belly of disparate
pregnancies.
iv. a therapeutic image of your likeness
( foreign as
one’s wonderment
in coming across
types
of mitochondrial disorders
or the oral
beauty
of reading ahead
nicking oneself
on chevrotain )
v. terminology
mouse
inoculates
deer
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC