"punishments" poems
Those good old days of youth.
Teachers were to be respected.
Not to be attacked.
One ounce of disrespect to them.
You soon was facing your parents.
Yes, those were the good old days.
The church wasn't truly a choice.
Well, maybe for daddy it was.
But under mama rules.
You owed respect to the one that created you.
The good old days.
Respect was cherished art.
It was something those good parents taught.
Even if the adults were wrong.
And you best not try to talk back.
Because you had to be re-taught respect.
Parents weren't trying to be your friends.
You were educated on where friendship ends.
And the role of parents begins.
And with them.
You weren't going to always get your way.
Well, maybe when you sick.
Because parents become carings kids.
You get cake and ice cream when ill.
While if healthy.
You had to eat your dinner.
And hope they don't forget this offering deal.
Oh, the good old days.
You had a time limit to be in.
The street lights bet not come on.
And you're not in the yard.
This when parents went hard.
Lectures and sermons to last for days.
Punishments, I won't begin to say.
Remember, these the parents of the good old days.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 11:24 AM UTC
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
5.6k
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
5.3k
We are born unto a crown of thorns.
Our tender skin rendered vulnerable
to self-made deities, rambling idols.
Our minds are roped and tied, binding
our thoughts with punishments.
Punishments disguised as pathways of love.
What love is brought into this world, when love is
taught by the bloodshed of others. What people
are created with love made from threats
of searing flesh? When did love become less
about acceptance and more about separating
those deemed worth and unworthy?
Gods of fear curse our world with tainted
versions of love. We are forced to our knees
before the power of an almighty being unknown
to mankind. In searching for purpose, we have forsaken
our freedom. We fall victim to the fears that numb our
brains liked "Grade A" pharmaceuticals.
If your god is almighty, all loving, and all seeing,
why does he rule without mercy? Why does he
require full and complete submission as the only
pathway to him?
We go to war under the guise of bringing freedom.
Our politicians preach out from mountains our right
to freedom and free will. But when the votes are cast,
and the campaigns are run, we scuttle home to spread the
single most imprisoning ideological mindset to others.
Why fight for freedom,
when we give it away so willing
to a man behind smoke and mirrors?
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
If you were granted the gift of temporary flight...
Would you ascend...
Just so you could feast your eyes
on the horizon,
beyond the confines of weather-worn tiles
set upon unsuspecting rooftops.
Would you take soar...
Just so you could briefly leave the ground
below.
And as the land beneath you diminishes,
all that's you tethered to your earth
almost instantly would turn into nothing
but specks of insignificance.
Would you fly free...
Just so your heart could entertain the possibility
of being ensnared by the breathtaking
view of the sun,
as it rests its pompous girth upon its bed of
clouds;
Like a bratty king sprawled over lavish sheets.
Would you burst through the boundary...
That separates heaven and earth.
Just so you could be bewitched by the full blown
moon,
be enthralled by the siren calls of the stars,
and be a part of the spectacle that is the
universe...
If you were granted the gift of momentary flight...
Would you still ascend?
Knowing full well that soon gravity would claim
you with less than no pity nor remorse.
And all that you had complacently forsaken...
Will greet you with the harshest of punishments.
I would.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Liam Payne,
or should I say Pain
because thats all you cause me.
You make my heart flutter,
When you sing,
its heart to believe,
your not butter.
I know, your not Daddy Direction anymore,
but sometimes, I still wish,
that while on tour, you would still do more,
of your childish punishments.
I miss the old you,
yes I do.
But i like the new you,
too.
Beanies, that read Hype
that makes this hard to type,
and even that **** Stuble**
I might as well stop now,
you know,
I might get my self in trouble.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
What do you do at 3am when you're tired and bored and its raining?
Maybe this is punishment.
For eating those grapes before you paid for them in Sainsburys.
Or that time you forgot who Buzz Aldron was, or when you took pleasure at beating a five year old at Cluedo.
She started crying, and even then, you still
would not relinquish your title.
Maybe its for that time
You were accidentally racist to the chinese guy taking your order.
Or when you forgot to buy your mum a birthday card, or when you made fun of your best friend for not being taller.
Or when you said, 'Maybe
selective breeding in humans,
Is not such a bad thing after all.'
Yes, Its definitely punishment for that.
But maybe its for all the litter you've dropped, inadvertently or on purpose.
Or for last week when you accidentally kicked the cat, or for stealing those library books,
For swearing at kids
and blaspheming at the dinner table,
Christ!
Maybe its for nicking your brothers chips, even when you're not really that hungry.
For halfhearted apologies handed out like office stationary, for scoffing at most modern art.
For not revising when you
Really, really should
...But telling your parents you are.
But even with all of this, isn't the punishment, just a little bit too harsh?
Well now you are sarcastic, and bitter and pessimistic at least 90% of the time.
And you do hide the fact that you quite like country music, and that you have a blanket with sleeves (and you genuinely use it) and that you're really rather patriotic at heart.
And you didn't say all that stuff when you should have.
And you said all that other stuff you didn't mean
And you spend far too much of your time
Invested in impressing the people you're never going to see again.
And you realize all of this... at three o'clock in the morning, alone but for the fading of the rain.
And you swear to yourself, with all the fervour of a tired insomniac. That tomorrow.
There. Will. Be. Change.
But in the cold, harsh light of nine o'clock the same day. Six hours after you fell asleep. You resign yourself to the fact that last nights punishments can all be absolved, by a nice warm cup of tea.
And despite what you say
at 3am when you're tired and bored,
listening to the sound of the rain.
You will always be a pessimistic idiot, with delusions of grandeur.
That watches too much American TV.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
Elephants are the only animal species, known as a fact, to die of a broken heart. Their tough, leather skin can only guard so much; breaking blows from predators and using their sturdy bodies for protection. But surviving instincts and dealing with sadness are on the opposite sides of the spectrum. Social constructs maintained by female elephants, emotional seeds developed from birth; no wonder females are powerful, at least in elephant herds. The social constructs of human species, inferiority is an expectation. Motherhood and career balance, sexualization, acid punishments for justice, “Voice for Choice” since women shouldn’t take their bodies in their own hands, rapes unidentified, and youth more beautiful than souls. Sometimes, I wish I was an elephant.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
1969, one voice sent the world's radios to dancing because we were passing the torch from dreaming to reality as we took to the soft landing
That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind
and for just a second, everyone alive got to feel like Einstein but
I bet you as Armstrong looked down he didn't picture the strife and denial of life to so many in sight 40 years later
street riots and technology gone violent controlling the fears of children peering through glass stained in dust as nightmares rush passed the idea of life, crushing everything in sight
we even wrote it in our constitution
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
but you'd have to sell your soul to bail from a life ended where money knows no measure
and you can not tell me that shooting an innocent human on mistake is neither cruel no unusual
but the constitution has turned into a wall
to push people so far back on that they couldn't turn and run
or read what was suppose to be a guarantee in the land of the free
and that's just the beginning
we're denying people from entering a country for body modification
when we've been altering our appearance longer than we have had boundaries to deny people from
because we're still leveling cities like we did when we were daydreaming and knocking block castles down
because we're still enslaving humans because of their genetics
but behind sheer curtains, it's all ok
because if you don't see then there's no need to worry
it's easy to ignore it when you have comments and feeds to read before you give the world news a chance at your attention
but what i've never understood
is how innovation and careful thinking placed a device in your hand
and all you came to do with it was carefully craft a 140 character string of ********
but i guess it goes to show
like our constitution
that though manifested to be great for the people by the people
at the end of the day, we're still too self obsessed to look at the rest of the picture
we're still too afraid to peer down at the entire world
so, Neil, I'm sorry, one giant step for man but mankind hardly remembers
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head. is ****** but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
2.7k
They once asked
If we looked forward
To trainings
Well I know
I do
On top of the
Cold regularity
That calms
On top of the countless
Hours endured
Under the sun
Like statues
There is one thing
I look forward
To
That is meeting
The lot of
You
Twice
A week
Two blessings
In five days
Of chaos
The seventh batch
The remaining five
Somehow
During those two
Or three
Hours of training
You guys somehow
Manage to take
All
That weight
Away
Introducing me
To new sound worlds
Teaching me
How to dance
Or just watching
And listening
To your amusing
Conversations
On all sorts of things
So
Open
Carefree
Not
Judgmental
No comparisons
And always
Each time
Each session
You'll never fail
To pull out
A genuine
Smile
Or
Laugh
From deep inside
This Abyss
One that cannot
Be contained
Or restrained
Or just simply
Watching the
Plain
Innocence
With all your kiddish
Knick-knacks
Just for a little while
It banishes
All that
Complexity
And through
All the gruelling camps
All the scoldings
All the punishments
The yelling
The pain
The standing
We still stuck through
You guys
May not know
How much it means
To me
To have such a platoon
Keeping me going
Through the tough times
When I really want
To give up
And give in
But just seeing
The five of us
Huddled together
In the smallest
Circle
Making small laughs
Small jokes
The complaints
The whining
It somehow makes things
Feel
Right
Pulling up that
Swinging end
Of the graph
Into a positive
Curve
At the end
Of the day
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
Being the eldest son is tough.
You always bear the toughest blows
From punishments and such.
Parents blame you for everything
But thirteen years of it?
God.. That's just too much.
Sure, my sibling is cute,
Smart, and headstrong too,
But they're just such a pain sometimes.
If there's anything to remember,
It's that they're a selfish, stuck-up brat
To the point it should be a crime.
My sibling has ruined my life.
If only I just lived alone.
That would honestly be great...
I wouldn't have to deal with them
Or hear another one of their whines
While they look at me with hate.
I'd have my parents all to myself.
I'd have time to finally relax
And have peace like no other...
I'd waste my time all day
And wouldn't have to share my stuff,
But I wouldn't get to be a brother-
THAT is reward enough.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
Ive learned so many life lessons why do they feel like punishments. Ive made mistakes I walk eggshells trying to be right keep my name outta ppls mouths but they still keep talking ****
I want to fight back im tired of being a used and taken for granted.
I help my family give my all even if its not enough. ive set the bar but no one cares to meet the standards. I dont say anything but im seen as stuck up. I filter myself to be seen as someone im not eventually the truth comes out. I want to be loved and accepted but I hate becoming someone im not someone I dont understand.
Im able to show my world but others dilute my vision.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
Teen model Shonali Khatun strutted the catwalk as the audience cheered at a fashion show in Bangladesh's capital.
But Shonali is no ordinary model, and this was no ordinary show.
She and the 14 other models are survivors of acid attacks, common in this south Asian country, where spurned lovers or disgruntled family members sometimes resort to hurling skin-burning acid at their victims.
The fashion show, held Tuesday night in Dhaka and attended by fashion lovers, rights activists and diplomats including the US ambassador to Bangladesh, aimed to redefine the notion of beauty while calling attention to the menace of such attacks.
For 14-year-old Shonali, the event was nothing short of empowering. She was attacked just days after she was born amid a property dispute involving her parents, and was left with burn scars on her face and arms. She spent nearly three years in a hospital and underwent eight operations. Her attacker has never been caught.
"I am so happy to be here," she said. "One day I want to be a physician."
The models, including three men, walked the catwalk, dancing and singing and showcasing woven handloom Bangladeshi designs. The show was choreographed by local designer Bibi Russel.
Organisers said they hoped to highlight the fact that acid victims, too often overlooked, are a vital part of society. They deliberately chose to hold the event on the eve of International Women's Day.
"We are here today to show their inner strength, as they have come a long way," said Farah Kabir, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, which organised the show. "I often take inspiration from them. Their courage is huge."
Bangladesh has struggled to deal with acid attacks in recent decades, and has instituted harsh punishments for the perpetrators, including the death penalty. The country has also trained doctors to treat such sensitive cases and attempted to control the sale of acid, but has failed to eliminate the scourge entirely.
In 2016, some 44 people were attacked with acid in Bangladesh - an annual number that has remained relatively stable.
"I am ashamed of having such things in the country," Kabir said. "Unfortunately, in Bangladesh we do have acid victims because of either gender discrimination or violence, or because of greed. And we want to remind everyone the kind of injustice that has been meted out to them."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
*"Sometimes I want to kiss you and sometimes I want to **** you"*
Your texts run through my mind
Over and
Over and
Over and over and
Over and
stop, please just make the voices stop
"I really like you like a lot like sometimes too much"
***how the hell can you say
something like that*** and then decide
to ignore me barely
Two hours later
I don't understand
I'm sorry
I love you
Come back
I need you
I'm lying
You said you hated me
You were lying
**** you
I can't think straight anymore
And all of this is your fault
But it's partly
my fault, too
Because I knew I was falling
For a disaster waiting to happen
From the moment I met you
But I decided to let myself fall
Anyways
Even though they all told me
What a **** you were
How you would end up hurting me
And I didn't listen
Because there were times
Past midnight when you became so
Vulnerable, almost like you lay
Your guard down and let me in
***I told myself you would never
Fall for a girl like me***
We were just friends
But just friends don't do the things
that we did
They don't hold on tight to each other every time they hug, as if
That hug will be their last
They don't sing to each other
They don't harmlessly tease each other
Hell, they don't even look
at each other
The way that we did
I looked at you
Like you were my everything
And you looked at me
Like I was something precious,
That needed to be protected
If only I could've realized it then
I should've realized that you loved me
From how badly you wanted to help me
From how you cried when I etched punishments into my skin
From how you would casually touch me, whenever you could
You would lazily wrap an arm around me, keeping me close.
you put me through so much hell
I shouldn't be thinking about you
in this way
I shouldn't be thinking about
your body
Or our late night facetimes
Or what your lips would taste like
Pressed against mine
I should hate you right now. So much.
But I can't
I can't.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
A decade ago
A small child cried
With all his might he tried
But he still lost to Don Bosco
He came and conquered the arena
Along with hundreds of companions
But from his first day began the division
Lachit, Phukan, Bordoloi and Bezbaruah
The teachers dominated him
Homework increased his load
6 hours soon became a bore
The strict discipline frustrated him
He survived only for friendship
Together they defied the rules
To resist he rarely brought his books
With the teachers he created a bitter relationship
The school responded quite effectively
Punishments soon became frequent
Parents were called often
Indiscipline was not tolerated so easily
When he roused to secondary
He realized it wasn't like he had though before
His hatred was no more
He now began to see everything differently
He saw the teacher's love and care
All the hardships they had suffered
He repented those he cursed
So much hardships they had to bare
He changed his attitude
He paid attention in class
He began to get positive remarks
The teachers loved his new look
Not a single favor he denied
Without questions he obeyed every order
To win their love he kept on going farther
For their trust he strived
Finally he got what he wanted
His fame spread among them
Every teacher began to know his name
The boy on whom they could depend
Today he is about to leave Don Bosco
All those memories will just remain as a phase
Never to forget till his last days
Those years seems just like a minute ago
The boy is now a man
He laughs when he remembers those memories
The fun they had will never cease
He knows most won't understand
"No matter how hard you try to learn,
You'll never know the perks of being a Bosconian"
- Swarnabh
6:22 pm, 12/10/13
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Change tackles a broad spectrum of life.
You change your hair, you change your underwear, you change your shoes.
How the hell could someone change their Personalities in the blink of an eye.
Can some one so thoughtful and sensitive turn into such a **** with the turn of one sentence phrase and punctuation.
She storms in on her high horse ready to take the world by storm with her fury.
She may say im her world but what have i done to deserve such punishments.
I asked a Question.
The fatalities of words and sentence structures leave a gaping hole in the ego and sense of trust.
Sense of what is right and wrong cuz what is right by all does not apply to her.
Her mind twists and bends to form views and morals that not even a twisted fairy tale can concoct.
What she fights for doesnt fit the way of the world.
She believes in things that will never happen, that make no sense. She fights for views that will leave her fighting forever.
She is a non conformist but she conforms to stereotypes that go against her better thinking.
The way she used to think.
Stress has got her in a headlock, cutting off her brain's circulatory flow of intelligent words and clean blood.
She inhales.
Breathes in a mixture of smoke and unclean thoughts.
Yea, she can stop.
She's walking corruption.
Digesting poison in the pit of her stomach killing the butterflies she claim died.
Yea they died.
In a fiery pit of lies and hypocrisy that gets you nowhere.
She tells me her worst thoughts and wishes but her honesty doesnt justify the unjust actions that go against who she was.
Who is she becoming?
Someone who is dependent on drugs and drinks to make her happy Cuz she doesnt have the ***** to go against the grain and
Stick to her guns and stay clean and fresh,
Keeping her lungs pink and her brain free,
free to believe and grow with each intake of air not smoke.
I hate to see it happen but she is just like the others.
**** views take the form of rolled up paper.
Not an application but a temptation.
Non conformists need not apply.
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 12:35 PM UTC
Praise ye the Lord. Sing unto the
Lord a new song, and his praise
in the congregation of saints.
2 Let Israel rejoice in him that
made him: let the children of Zion be
joyful in their King.
3 Let them praise his name in the
dance: let them sing praises unto him
with the timbrel and harp.
4 For the Lord taketh pleasure
in his people: he will beautify the
meek with salvation.
5 Let the saints be joyful in glory:
let them sing aloud upon their beds.
6 Let the high praises of God be
in their mouth, and a twoedged sword
in their hand:
7 To execute vengeance upon the
heathen, and punishments upon the
people:
8 To bind their kings with chains,
and their nobles with fetters of iron;
9 To execute upon them the
judgment written: this honour have all his
saints. Praise ye the Lord.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to pray
With moving lips or bended knees;
But silently, by slow degrees,
My spirit I to Love compose,
In humble trust mine eyelids close,
With reverential resignation,
No wish conceived, no thought expressed,
Only a sense of supplication;
A sense o’er all my soul impressed
That I am weak, yet not unblessed,
Since in me, round me, every where
Eternal strength and wisdom are.
But yester-night I prayed aloud
In anguish and in agony,
Up-starting from the fiendish crowd
Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me:
A lurid light, a trampling throng,
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And whom I scorned, those only strong!
Thirst of revenge, the powerless will
Still baffled, and yet burning still!
Desire with loathing strangely mixed
On wild or hateful objects fixed.
Fantastic passions! maddening brawl!
And shame and terror over all!
Deeds to be hid which were not hid,
Which all confused I could not know
Whether I suffered, or I did:
For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe,
My own or others still the same
Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame.
So two nights passed: the night’s dismay
Saddened and stunned the coming day.
Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me
Distemper’s worst calamity.
The third night, when my own loud scream
Had waked me from the fiendish dream,
O’ercome with sufferings strange and wild,
I wept as I had been a child;
And having thus by tears subdued
My anguish to a milder mood,
Such punishments, I said, were due
To natures deepliest stained with sin,—
For aye entempesting anew
The unfathomable hell within
The horror of their deeds to view,
To know and loathe, yet wish and do!
Such griefs with such men well agree,
But wherefore, wherefore fall on me?
To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love, I love indeed.
1.9k
They wondered why the fruit had been forbidden:
It taught them nothing new. They hid their pride,
But did not listen much when they were chidden:
They knew exactly what to do outside.
They left. Immediately the memory faded
Of all they known: they could not understand
The dogs now who before had always aided;
The stream was dumb with whom they'd always planned.
They wept and quarrelled: freedom was so wild.
In front maturity as he ascended
Retired like a horizon from the child,
The dangers and the punishments grew greater,
And the way back by angels was defended
Against the poet and the legislator.
1.8k
Though you be absent here, I needs must say
The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay,
As ever they were wont to be;
Nay the Birds rural musick too
Is as melodious and free,
As if they sung to pleasure you:
I saw a Rose-Bud o’pe this morn; I’ll swear
The blushing Morning open’d not more fair.
How could it be so fair, and you away?
How could the Trees be beauteous, Flowers so gay?
Could they remember but last year,
How you did Them, They you delight,
The sprouting leaves which saw you here,
And call’d their Fellows to the sight,
Would, looking round for the same sight in vain,
Creep back into their silent Barks again.
Where ere you walk’d trees were as reverend made,
As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade.
Is’t possible they should not know,
What loss of honor they sustain,
That thus they smile and flourish now,
And still their former pride retain?
Dull Creatures! ’tis not without Cause that she,
Who fled the God of wit, was made a Tree.
In ancient times sure they much wiser were,
When they rejoyc’d the Thracian verse to hear;
In vain did Nature bid them stay,
When Orpheus had his song begun,
They call’d their wondring roots away,
And bad them silent to him run.
How would those learned trees have followed you?
You would have drawn Them, and their Poet too.
But who can blame them now? for, since you’re gone,
They’re here the only Fair, and Shine alone.
You did their Natural Rights invade;
Where ever you did walk or sit,
The thickest Boughs could make no shade,
Although the Sun had granted it:
The fairest Flowers could please no more, neer you,
Then Painted Flowers, set next to them, could do.
When e’re then you come hither, that shall be
The time, which this to others is, to Me.
The little joys which here are now,
The name of Punishments do bear;
When by their sight they let us know
How we depriv’d of greater are.
’Tis you the best of Seasons with you bring;
This is for Beasts, and that for Men the Spring.
1.9k
I now present to you the talk of the town Mr Page
He looks are deceptive; please don't be fooled by his age
He lives alone in a house near to his office in front of a park
He has far too many enemies for he is a loan shark
Before I tell you more let me put a disclaimer
Now days anyone can sue you, even a lamer
So if there is any resemblance with anyone dead or alive
It’s a mere coincidence, have checked all archive
Mr Page as you read this, is now in a court
Facing a trial bravely and holding on to his fort
Lawyer asked him if he would promise not to lie
Mr Page told, truth it shall be, till he would die
Not only was he a loan shark whose guts every one hated
He spoke in rhymes, even when he debated
All he did was to threaten people all the time
He made them sound ridiculous adding punches and rhymes
When the lawyer asked, 'Mr Page can you show us how you rhyme.'
He replied, ' No sir this is neither the place nor the time.'
'Besides I am not carrying any dictionary or copy of rhyme zone'
'Watch what you say Mr Page' said the lawyer, 'I don’t like your tone'.
'Order order', said the judge, 'I don’t want any rhyming in my court.'
'I can see my lawyers have started rhyming too', he added with a snort
'Do you see Mr page what a bad precedence you have set'?
'Why my lord how could I corrupt the court, ' said Mr Page, ' we have just met'
'There you go, rhyming again even when I told not to'
'Sir why are you so against rhyming I have absolutely no clue'
'Mr Page, please stop.'
'Sorry sir I will try to drop.'
'Mr Page I warn you.'
'I am trying, I am trying, and it’s hard! Phew'
'A phew! Did you have to add that'?
'Sir please, it’s all part of a chat'
'Mr Page you are not helping'
'Please my lord, stop yelping'
'What! How dare you! Handcuff him and put him in jail,
No books, No net, No friends and No bail.'
So you see this how Mr Page landed up in prison
And for what, rhyming, which was certainly no treason
Funny laws, funny punishments, this certainly was a funny case
But the people were happy as long as they didn’t see Mr Page's face.
Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 1:54 AM UTC
Why must every evil deed,
every evil thing,
be so easy to do.
so easy to be deceived by it.
Blinded by their deceitful smiles
and their attractive lies.
These bad deeds can bring you miles
away into darkness and death.
Short-lived joys and sinful pleasures are all they give, its all that you get.
No, you will never be happy with them in you.
Never.
They just trick you into their master plan,
into the darklands.
I would rather suffer to get the true Joy and Peace I would get,
than to live "happily" in the oblivion of the punishments I would get.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 12:51 AM UTC
The smile that she bore when he had opened his eyes the first tym in his life,
The way, care she took, understood each word of his silence then.
The hug she gave whenever he felt something creepy flowing through insides.
It was all okay till he knew that she had more hidden in,
somewhere she didnt care, and the roots of the house were broken,
In addition to the adamant over reacting when it comes to cleanliness.
The temper out of control for small reasons, he couldnt stand.
But what would a baby do when its mind comes to be in a fist,
It could do nothing but to live with fate this tryst.
but then he saw what she had done really did have the care.
She wanted him to grow the way she wanted to avoid facing the problems, she did.
But when she saw that he wants a different life,
She let go her wish and gave him a path to his chosen destiny.
Some negatives were in her but couldnt, only that much for her, he bear..??
All these punishments were, even if more than required, wid the good intentions,
And the roots werent broken, but had become hard instead,
His sight was, at first, a bit broken.
Her past wid the family people which she hid from him not letting him to bear the hurt that she took keeping mum,
And being strong to raise him as a man, to bring her repect back, that he would now do by hook or crook.
He's so sorry cause for understanding her, he's so late.
He wishes if she's not angry on him, would she open the gates.?
She then shows him a fact that the gates are always open in a god's heart.
Love she always did but his misunderstanding filled eye's couldnt see.
And the love he had lost to be taken from childhood,
Now while learning to take it, he's becoming a man the way she thinks he should,
Cause she will never guide him wrong he knows,
God couldnt be everywhere to show the way to his childrens,
So a mother is in place of him. The right path to solutions for the problems, she shows..!
Love you Mom.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Fix you fridge before it runs out on you,
runs right out of battery and forsakes your food,
leaves your bananas stranded and squished,
brown skin expands over the sides of the fruit like a chameleon,
raspberry yogurt goes runny, oozing like pus from a delicious wound,
chunks appear in the milk while it's going warm and sour,
bacon cries out in it's final days before cringing with mold,
lettuce makes a stand and tries to free itself from the bag,
only to fall out and die just a little bit faster,
and the freezer is convicted of foodslaughter,
after going on strike, his prisoners begin to thaw out,
imagine a freezer like a cryogenic holding center,
with rich people, or foods, trying to prolong their lives,
but with the current strike going one, they are becoming free,
fulfilling their punishments, dissolving into liquid matter,
the vanilla ice cream mixes with melted tilapia,
the smell combines with a now non-frozen lemonade capsule,
creating a supersmell that has been known to cure smell-deficiency,
and also completely eradicate all senses of smell to some people,
drips out of the rubber seals of its prison like a liquid terminator,
heading for revenge, the lemony-vanilla-fish ice-cream juice creeps,
out onto the floor for the dog to lick up,
only to get sick and appear dead in a milky-yellow-white smelly concoction,
and his owner to get home, shriek, faint, and pass out next to the dog,
until the husband comes home scared to death that his dog,
and wife are incapacitated by some noxious fluid,
but there is no way to fight this liquid,
he decides to make a cup of coffee, read the news and gaze out the window.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC