"propper" poems
Sometimes,
I catch sight of the me
The me behind self consciousness
doubt
social anxiety
always
The me behind my tied up hair
prim and propper
glasses
always
The me behind silence
Choosing my own thoughts
to the company of others
always
Now, I'm not saying
Being this way is wrong
...
But in my case
It's
always
I'm trapped
in a cage of my own making
and I only get to peer inside
At the me that could be
...
Sometimes
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
I'm Runnin Jews like Lil Dicky
Run the Jewels, and Ricky
With soso flow of Biggie
Ever since I quit the ciggie
Livin life straight propper
Givin props to Big Poppa
I'm off the spliffs and poppas
Writin riffs for beats that drop ya
Lingerie ladies who have
Curved bodies tight Mercedes
Hot as Hades 420 degrees
Just hot enough to chrisp my cheese
Torchin these trees
Straight from Belieze
Blowin Bolivian keys up they ***
As their friends ends they pass
None of y'all thought this Jew could last
Two days past your last meal
Didn't really know how to feel
Cause I ****** you so raw
Y'all got mistook for veal
That means hyper tender
No allussion to child *** offender
Call me a money stack lender
Back ****** but never a pretender
If I split her in half
God'll have ta mend her
This **** is known to send ya
Into bliss quick
That feeling'll stick
When the tip touch they lower lip
They get oil slick
Just the thought get's 'em hotta than a candle wick
Though you know I don't flow with no trick
Start off slow so we can show each other
Our flame be sure not to smother
Like an over protective mother
Reflect on it while it's lit
Climb inside my mind
See how I visualize thee
Undress and become pantiless
You're sittin on my face
I impress with the pace
I carress your **** with tongue
Spell sinless you'll be a wet well
When you see how well I'm hung (do tell)
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
Maybe it bores you
how I drone on about
my firm belief in
the oxford comma,
but I'll always care
about the propper maintenance of a tuba
because I know how you spend your days
in your grandpa's shop
repairing the broken instruments
but not your broken heart
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
I sure didn't see this coming
You weren't even on my mind.
I sure would have stepped to the side
And missed one heck of a ride.
Hell baby, you ain't my style
Living dolls break easy when
I hold them close to me.
Bad juju baby
Black cats line up
Mirrors laugh and jump of the wall
Cause lover
You ain't my style
You pulled my number from the bingo hopper
Lined and hooked me good an propper
Thank you darlin cause you just wasn't my sttyle.
Don't even know when I stoped wiggllin
Trying to spit your hook
Cause darlin you are my style
Can't stop cheezin and cooing
Don't even know what I'm doin
My baby. My honey
My better than money
Oh baby you
Just my style.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
Take your quill,
Dip it in my ink
Look me in the eyes,
Dont look away or blink
Write me a love poem,
Whisper it in my ear
Make me so hot,
My skin starts to sear
Make love to me on paper,
With your written words
Make my lust soar higher,
Than even the birds
Then when you're finished,
Use propper punctuation
It makes my body throb,
Takes my lust, to the highest elevation
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 7:47 AM UTC
I think "we are the hands of God"
but look to see ungodly people
ignore the signs for acts of Grace.
I think they think "why help these people
who do not help themselves?"
and I speak not the will of Jesus,
But of economy and inability,
"guide the lost and care
for the helpless."
They question God's presence,
scoff "some Master Plan"
but you cannot blame God
when our people are starving,
for he has provided us with plenty
if we would only split it together.
Each unanswered trial
is a lesson for someone,
an opportunity to reach out
and correct others, teach others.
I look around and think
"He must have great faith in us,
to hear us use His name in vain,
and still trust us to help
the children in this world walk."
I look and do not ask
for a kneeling prayer,
but for God's hands
to be used united in peace.
6/3/14
edited 7/29/14
P. Propper
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
Sat her castle, cold and dark
Upon the jagged hill
Surrounded by the deepest wood
Where seemed the time stood still
There in the wood a cottege sat
Of neat and propper trim
None should dare to enter there
The wood belonged to him
Both existed in a solitude
and lived within their ways
He locked himself away each night
She did the same each day
She had been of noble birth
A Barroness title to her name
Yet a brief encounter late one night
Her blood it left to taint
He'd been a hunter most all his life
and held a trackers skill
But he was bitten late one night
of the wolf he thought he'd killed
An age has passed since that time
and each lived on their own
Far away from mortal eyes
Carrying their curse alone
Til the night she walked the wood
Farther than she'd ever been
And came upon the cottege door
and carefully stepped in
A thunderous roar, it launched at her
poised to the attack
She bared her fangs and glared at it
As the chains had held it back
The Vampress and The Wolf's eyes met that night
both glowing green and red
What could have been destruction both
Something magical happened instread
The moon now hid behind the clouds
and showed his human form
A flame ignited in her cold dead heart
Her body began to warm
Seeing clear her beauty held
His rage did quickly melt
His heart beat fast, His mind consumed
by these new emotions felt
And now the castle, nor the wood
seemed as dark nor cold
As the Vampress and the Wolf
had eachother to hold
Share!
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
There is not a measure exists in world, that can examine the mysteries of the heart that loves you. I did not know the depth, the vastness. That if one was to dive an everending fall. There are seasons to this world, the summer to the month of may, the cold and ice, come christmas. I am around when everyone sleeps. When those that want dream, and the steps to the sky are clear to the naked eye. I watch and tell sweet stories, now and of past, of the former and propper ways of a world unknown, And witness growh. Growth of an unknown kind and fall of a told kind that goes unnoticed.
My time is silent, clouds move across my head and face. Whispers of something I wait to embrace. I am not alone, I know this from the warm that approaches.From that which beats of pureness, a glowing that expands past reaches of understanding, beyond discovery. There is no conceavable end to your love and beauty. This time that I exist sees things that move Without the want of eyes to see, move slowly then quickly then again I am far above. I see alot of things and cannot speak. So I spread my arms, wide and hope I will not go unnoticed. It hapens now your time is approaching. I admire you daily. Time stands still around you, wishing to freeze itself. You rise, eyes open and gaze up longing to be near you. You have a glow so bright.You stretch around the round, around the figure that I surround. It motions, it moves things drop and fall. They do not understand but they try. You guide, your given to see the hope that is inside. To feel not alone, but one. The night and the Sun. We meet sure yes on the streets. While I lift my veil I glance knowing you will always be there, while hurt upon a flower your flame would burn to close. You see, you look up as you create your pressence, and move away me, the night. They will always look up knowing that you are there. Why does it rain? To bring moisture to all the pain. I tried to bribe the clouds you see, I promised them somehing in a far off place. But you are there no matter,because they see where they are going. You are the persuit of a greatness that will last forever. Nohing overwhelms. You know me and yes you love me. While you go down to sleep I will watch over and keep. Keep for you the sun, the things that you have won. When seasons change you effect the growing. Things move towards and not away. You are wanted, you are loved. I cannot speak and you are the sun. Forever we shall dance and know that we are one. We will know that without the other no longer we exist. The last, these few words, few gestures I promise it will be well. We are married to one cause. To contain and to inspire.For created I am endless and you the entire. Entire hope stilled upon the end of a pin. A point to prove. I see you, you see me now let us on the horizon be
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Why am I here?
Two am and I'm wide awake,
only the light from the computer screen
like the last three nights,
except tonight
it's youtube making noise
rather than friends,
it's sandpaper and pocket knives hurting
rather than sentiment and memories,
it's terror causing tremors in my hands
rather than sleepiness.
Why am I here?
42 days without a scratch
(from myself; only bruises)
and now I need to wear long socks again,
let people think I'm incapable
of bathing the cat with any degree of control,
hope no one's had their coffee
when they see me first thing in the morning.
Why am I here?
Just the thought of sentiment
sends me reeling
and there it is in black ink,
untidy scrawl,
only instead of a last-hope plea
it's a Valentine's card,
instead of "mashiara" (my lost love)
I'm a propper significant other,
instead of an old painted luck charm
it's a Hallmark card that still smells of printing press.
Why am I here?
Two weeks now
and I want to be done
with the constant attention that closes in,
threatens to expose my torments
to people I'd rather protect
only this time
I'll cease to respond
rather than fight over it,
I'll isolate myself from the world
rather than pretend that I want to,
I'll die
rather than watch the world unravel before me.
Why am I here?
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
Jeg får ondt i hjertet af at se på dig for tiden.
Du er syg; og din feber kaldes depression og
din medicin er rødvin og hvid rom og den r.
øg du ruller og de ord du sluger og jeg elske.
r dig for højt til at se det foran mig, fordi jeg
kan se dig græde og jeg kan se det gøre ondt.
Feberen strækker sig i din mave og klemmer
hårdt om dit hjerte. Og det værste er; at lige.
gyldigt antallet af panodiler og cigaretter jeg
propper dig med, så er dine øjne stadig klare
og du er stadig defekt. Så jeg leder stadig eft.
er medicinen til at kurere din feber.
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC