"reimbursed" poems
49
I never lost as much but twice,
And that was in the sod.
Twice have I stood a beggar
Before the door of God!
Angels—twice descending
Reimbursed my store—
Burglar! Banker—Father!
I am poor once more!
4.5k
I resign from your love
It's far too hard a job
My experiences have been too rough
I give my all but it isn't enough
Where does your love come from anyway?
Is it your gut that gives it away?
Myriad words I could right now say
If only it mattered, I could go on all day.
My walls are all blank, I stripped all our pictures
It reminded me of my failure; your silence tortures.
I munch no more popcorn like we used to in the movies.
I watch movies no more either, just hoping to be at ease.
I've had enough of my dreams crushed
Not sure if they can be reimbursed
It's far too hard, even for a job
I quit, I resign from your love.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 11:18 AM UTC
But then that Bronze you would Commercialise
Out of those Hands which reimbursed your Win
Need not be Displayed; For Humble concise
The Best Blown Victory embraces your Skin
Like that Gold-Dresser his Scriptures resume
Though unexpected Prime Tarriff despite
Saw this Next Call for Excitement subsume
For the Corvocado Christ he'll incite
And as for you, to Teeny-Bopps you relate
And Promote your Sport as a Pop-Ear's Rage
With Some at-risk, masturbed and hate
The Artist's Garden stolen for corsage.
There are certain Themes which need no Reform
That if we do, such Gremlins we Transform.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
I am the vessel of my ship,
I am to wrestle a little twit.
Will you help me find my virginity?
I think I've lost it somewhere,
Or someone borrowed it.
I am a farmer of black beans,
I am the Tarmac at the airport,
Will you join me for coffee?
I think I'm seeding the soil,
I found purchase in this toil.
I hate traffic and sputnik,
I love triptychs and music,
Is it you, me and everyone we know?
I guess we can play monopoly,
Just lay down your weapons, I'm fun you see.
Of course you can trust me,
I'm not a wet black bean,
Can I sing the national anthem?
I speak ****** and some other lingo,
I read French and women undress.
On second thought I'll be a stallion,
And yes I'm part French-Italian.
How far does it go?
I'll tell you what, do you know the muffin man?
The one that lives on Drury Lane?
If you do open up, let Thomas the train do his run.
A hippopotamus would laugh at this,
These lines said with such a clever lisp.
It'd have to be high as a koala bear,
Eating eucalyptus leafs at the fair.
I couldn't be more assured of this,
I wouldn't be reimbursed to read miss.
Doesn't it hurt? Aren't you choking yourself?
No me feel no pain,
Cookies are like nova cane.
Last but not least,
It feels better than summer heat,
The question everyone is a critic for,
Are you happy?
If Lois Lane was a *****
Cookie Monster a compulsive eater.
Then of course I'm sure.
May 20, 2011
May 20, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
Before this ardent Prank you consider
Concern your Senses on how they'll react
If, with Plomb expressed, breach this Barker
To demote his Heresy into Fact
Of course, seldom would we fancy such scene
And kiss Companion we will christen Hope
Which, by your Rights thereof, absorb such Mean
Then ferry those Weights as a New Year's Dope
It is a Being. Sentient as he
Whose Cuteness reimbursed his Nature make
Which, invest his uttermost Respect be
Will his Innocence and Comfort bespake.
Humour cures. In this Shaky World indeed
To sew its Scars; Promote Contempt at speed.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
She lay in the bath, half asleep or half awake she wasn't sure, but the warm water floated gently around her infinitely. And just like the memories in her mind the water lapped aimlessly at nonexistent edges, spilling over, as if wandering off the edge of the world.
She moved her hand carelessly to tuck an escaped strand of hair behind one ear as the water hugged the creases and crevasses of her body, all contained in a white bowl of serenity with the only disruption in her mind. She starred absentmindedly into the reflection in the water, a distorted and watery version of her blue eyes and curly hair, although somewhere inside her she knew she was beginning to feel more like her reflection every day. Her tear stained eyes stared back at her, the makeup smudges making her look skillfully tired and worn as though an artist himself had hand crafted her very face and in the process aged her 5 years. Inside she lulled away, wanting to melt into the water and never care about anything more than was necessary. The soft, happy, carefree side temporarily locked away, with a combination that even she did not yet know. Instead an emotional whirlwind of feelings, angry and powerful tunneled out, amplified by so much as a word or a thought. It was these moments that almost took her by surprise, as if it was someone else pushing these people out, in an attempt to avoid explaining. This was accompanied by feeling as though the world had given her everything to live for and everything to lose in one breath. Her ragged breathing had eventually softened to an emotional sigh of trembling lips as she reimbursed herself with more hot water. Feeling it burn on her leg she watched pink ovals appear, stinging with regrets and pain, a constant wishing to go back and re do and apologies and pause and rewind and forward.
With a click of her heel she snapped the plug away, maybe in some attempt to also drain herself of her tribulations that had almost enveloped her entire bath. Watching the water disappear quickly, she was entranced at the waters escape, loving how eager it was to run away from her. And with this she felt relief, as though she could finally breathe.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Traversing through sacred memories
Doting nostalgia with tinted glasses
Half asleep while going to classes
Reimbursed debut shaken by Aries
Nursed you unshaken by parries
Quoting romance with the masses
Toting kinetic theory of gases
Lost in the forest while searching for berries
You'll look and ask if I have seen the dark
A knowing look and a loving gaze
I'll respond that I had, but now it's lit by your heart
When I first led my search I had no idea what I would find, no idea if I could love or be truly kind
Led me battered out of the haze
My fond memories of our moonlit park
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Be free
Of this family curse
That is me
It'll only get worse
You'll see
What emerges first
And agree
Not to be coerced
A "we"
Will definitely die of thirst
Time can't be
Truly reimbursed
The key
Never start to converse
My company
Not even close to worth
What you'll be
Forced to traverse
©2024
May 5, 2024
May 5, 2024 at 9:43 PM UTC
Things are bad and getting worse
And what's worse
Is this stagnant curse
One maybe set from birth
But who knows
All I know
Is it can't lead to the back of a hearse
First things first
And for what is worth
I need to find my worth
But while searching for said worth
I find myself dying of thirst
Realizing life can't be reversed
Opportunity dispersed
I have to accept the empty
Path I've traversed
And acknowledge the wasted good karma
Will never be reimbursed
©2025
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 7:10 PM UTC
we went to hiroshima
to look at salvaged pieces
of mangled corpses,
twisted limbs
that were once controlled
by human brains
we lowered our heavy heads
and squinted our blood shot eyes
to read the time frozen on
the wristwatch of a
severed arm,
10:18
it was 10:18 twice today,
it will be 10:18 twice tomorrow
and my arm is in its socket now
but when will my watch stop ticking?
when will my wrist disintegrate
so much that the tan leather strap
will cease to be strapped to anything at all?
as if my senses have been
heightened in this instant
i can hear the faint
whisper from my arm,
"tick, tock, tick, tock"
i am older with every slight
motion of each narrow hand
consistently aging,
rhythmic like perfect breathing,
always dying,
always dying
there is no space
that time doesn't occupy
but we went to hiroshima
to look at salvaged pieces
of mangled corpses,
twisted limbs
that were once controlled
by human brains
and we were comforted,
all gathered between museum walls
to see the depth of our mortality,
without really having to feel it
here,
we were safe,
at least we pretended to be
because here,
we were looking at death
encased in glass,
death right beside
a hanging sign that read
"do not touch glass"
in red ink
here,
we could see death
but we couldn't get too close
and to us that meant
death can see us
but it couldn't get too close
so we stood before
every expression
of frozen time,
the end of time,
the continuation of time,
with this plexiglass shield
that we thought was immortality,
drunk on this illusion
that we were somehow
being protected from our own
inevitable doom
by some material
produced by men in a factory,
and held down by two screws
on either side
every time we inhale,
every time we exhale
the unpredictable moments
that cradle our glass lives,
while reaching over
glistening concrete
where we can turn into
a heaping pile of blood
and sharp edges,
losen their grip
every single time
we inhale,
every single time
we exhale
we can pretend
that air is endless,
and i guess it is
but individually
it can't be
individually,
air is limited
each one of us
are only allowed so much,
some of us less than others,
but for all of us the same rule applies,
each breath is spent,
never lended
each breath
is a breath we will not
be reimbursed for
so,
we pay to
scrunch our noses
up like sleeping bags
and open our eyes wide like
neglected *** holes,
at the sight of
time all caged up
cause we need to
believe we have a say
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC
It’s good, but not what we’re looking for right now.
Oh, but it stings. And how!
The position’s closed, better luck next time
Your lips are bruised purple from that smile.
We loved it, but it doesn’t fit with our current line-up
You take a bitter sip of the salty tea-cup.
It’s good, dear, just not for me
You nod, you understand, ‘cause it ever is.
Your throat stings from not screaming loud enough,
Frustration the itch of a swallowed cough.
You’ve heard it a hundred times, and yet the hundred-and-first
Burns like every regret thrice reimbursed.
But while they wound, they aren’t nearly as bad,
As the radio silence of indifference ironclad.
Refreshed inboxes and double-checked call logs tell
The sordid tale of a dream drowning in the wishing well.
Vacancies disappear and resumes languish
Receptionists pout in parodied anguish.
It’s never you, it’s always them,
It’s never you’re-not-good-enough, it’s always not-the-right-fit.
It’s all the same, yet unique every time
Nobody’s got a minute, but asking’s not a crime.
It’s self-flagellation with a calling card
We don’t give a **** best regards.
Your name’s not on this list, or the next one
And yet you walk, ‘cause you can’t outrun
The ghost of a dream, of a hope long gone
Of finding the happily-ever-after in life’s lexicon.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
*
**The happiness, an asset
not to be hidden in closet,
In multiples, it is reimbursed
when generously, it is disbursed!!**
*
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
*
*Good that LOVE is not life
Good that LOVE is not work
Good that LOVE is not a marriage
Good that LOVE is not an agreement
Good that LOVE is not a signed contract
Good that LOVE is not a Terms of reference
Good that LOVE is not a Job description
Good that LOVE is not an Annual plan
Good that LOVE does not have a budget
Good that LOVE does not have to give account of expenses
Good that LOVE does not have targets
Good that LOVE does not come under HR rules
Good that LOVE does not come under LEGAL laws
Good that LOVE does not follow rules, regulations
Good that LOVE does not care for moral, ethics
Good that LOVE does not get awards, trophies,
Good that LOVE does not get citations, certificates
Good that LOVE does not get applause, fame
Good that LOVE is not a post or position
Good that LOVE does not care of hierarchy
Good that LOVE is not about status and power
Good that LOVE does not fetch you friends
Good that LOVE is not a job or business
Good that LOVE is not about 9 to 5 job
Good that LOVE does not expect meetings, conferences
Good that LOVE does not expect workshops symposiums
Good that LOVE does not make you pretentious
Good that for LOVE one has to wear a fake mask
Good that LOVE does not let you follow any ideology
Good that LOVE is not reimbursed by salary, wage
Good that LOVE is not paid for your work done
Good that LOVE is not found on Internet, social media
Good that LOVE does not bother about likes, dislikes
Good that LOVE does not exist on laptop and mobiles
Good that LOVE is unlike any other relationship
Good that LOVE is not restricted to family & friends
Good that LOVE is not about learning, knowledge
Good that LOVE is not about literacy and education
Good that LOVE does not care for wealth and riches
Good that LOVE is not about decisions and making choice
Good that LOVE does not believe in religions, God/dess
Good that LOVE does not suffer from phobias & neurosis
Good that LOVE does not hide behind ideologies & doctrines
Good that LOVE is liberal and progressive
Good that LOVE is a rebellion against everything
Good that LOVE is the one that kills EGO "I"
Good that LOVE is.... "LOVE"...!*
*
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 11:39 PM UTC
For money and gold
For you
His life was sold
Gave his location
In sin you gave into temptation
Then with a greet of a kiss
From your deceitful lips
He was betrayed
By you
A heart that was lost and filled with greed
But in this transaction you went insane
Infected
Cursed
In your realization
You tried to get reimbursed
But your faith was sealed
For the prophecy had to be fulfilled
And as you stood at the top of the hill
Beneath a tree past its prime
You hung yourself
Until the kicking in your feet went
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
I know I shouldn't care
about who He likes.
I mean, we were never really together.
But, I have spent
two ******* years of tears
on Him.
Are my tears reimbursed?
No.
But, someone likes Kaitlyn
and It could very well be Him
See, she is the other Girl.
And I don't know how to talk to them.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Well being, it's a curse!
The brains waves it will disburse
With it's nonsense verse
Leading us to the bad that we will be submersed
Saving it's good intentions
and
Nothing will be reimbursed
Causing such thirst
Making it come first
Seeing the worst
Sometimes it plays over in your head
as though it was being rehearsed
Not allowing you to dread
It moves you fast ahead
No speaking of it's intention
always unsaid
It's intentions are well designed
causing your state of mind
only from one mind
your mind
Maybe not of sound mind
or a opened mind
it's intention is to close your mind
to undermine
Listen to it
It will be hard to stay of sound mind
Most powerful,
The subconscious mind
!!
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
every bodies broken
yea nobody works
Like giving up a paycheck
stedda giving up your shirt.
Happiness is broken hands just chokin out the hurt.
Well more like life is such a tease who cheats til death is just a flirt.
Well I know I'm a nice guy
who's really such a ****
I saw that light casts its own shadow so it has a place to lurk.
worms are treats for creatures but they're life inside the dirt
the same dirt our lovers bodies become when they meet their worst.
Your body is a vessel carried round inside a hearse.
The road in the cemetery can't be rode in reverse.
Like life makin little eggs or was it chickens who were first
we cluck and **** and find no answers but have knowledge of a thirst.
we do doing poorly so well that it must've been rehersed.
I'd rather see a play where we're all getting reimbursed.
the endings always happy cuz we're happy being cursed
We'd probably take that money buy unhappiness or something worse.
Ok.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC
Trains don't run
Planes don't fly
Cars & buses come to borders and reverse
I'm bumping into myself
trying to tell her
I miss her
Films are lame
Music's bland
art is feeble & inert
and none of the books on my shelf
can make me forget
that I miss her
City's bare
shops are closed
someone's getting reimbursed
I await the government's help
since I've declared
that I miss her
Flat is clean
dinner's cooked
and this hangover is a curse
Now that I've allowed myself
beyond all hope
to miss her
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 4:50 PM UTC